by Nicole Snow
A woman he’s seriously in love with.
He hasn’t left my side all night between introducing us to the townspeople, praising me like I was sent down just for him, hugging me, teasing me.
Holy Hades. Teasing me.
Honestly, it was far more than simple teasing. My libido must be halfway to Mars by now.
Dancing with him was a dream. Those slow, close, shockingly graceful movements.
Every time he reeled me in close, I got a whiff of his aftershave mingled with his scent. It leaves me delirious, this dense, earthy shadow in every breath. Inhaling Ridge Barnet affects my ability to breathe, to think, to control myself.
Did I mention his body?
It’s hard in all the right places. Muscle and ink fused together by a crazed perfectionist, dusted with a halo of raspy stubble and eyes like a wild thing forever on the hunt.
I could go on forever, but that’d require my wits, which I’m not sure I’ll ever find again.
Praise for Ridge aside, I have to admit, I wasn’t half bad tonight.
His lead was easy to follow and he told me where to go, to act as in love with him as he is with me.
Never once did the high stakes behind what we’re doing leave my brain.
Standing our ground is the best option, and I’m grateful we have it, considering everything else close to going haywire.
After being around him this long, I expect the unexpected from a handsome, overly sexy, foul-mouthed beast-man hell-bent on saving our lives.
What I didn’t expect?
That I’d ever have this much fun.
It’s easy when your Not Fiancé is a natural jokester, too. He’s had people laughing all night, including me.
Especially me.
Astounding, considering I haven’t laughed so hard my sides hurt in ages.
I haven’t felt so carefree since college.
I’d partied more than one night away back then, and remember how I felt the next morning. So I’m nursing my margaritas rather than doing shots with lime and salt on my well-licked hand.
Truth be told, tequila has nothing on the high he delivers.
Ridge is the life of the party, hell, the entire gravity.
His exuberance has the bar as hyped as he is, everybody in wild spirits. I think they’ll be talking for ages about the night a billionaire movie star bought out half the booze on the shelves and let it flow like water.
After another round of dancing where he twirls, dips, and kisses me—leaving me thinking terrible things about his god-like stamina—I’m so breathless I could keel over.
“I need to sit,” I say, tumbling into a chair.
So, another revelation for the night is just how easily he leaves me in the dust. I’m an active woman, yet I feel my inner couch potato dragging a hundred miles behind an ex-military workout fiend.
“Too much?” He sits beside me, hanging an arm around my shoulders.
I laugh. “You’re like the Energizer Bunny.”
“Aw.” He leans over and nuzzles my neck, stamping several more fiery kisses on the tender skin under my ear. “You sure you want to think of me as some cute, warm thing, darlin’? Whatever else you do, don’t think of me as small.”
Does. He. Hear. Himself?
Honestly, I’m sure he does. He’s trying to kill me with innuendo that’s about as subtle as a sausage to the face.
“Does your ego bruise that easily?” I bite my lip and roll my shoulder, easing him back. “How’d you like to be a jackrabbit?”
“Real smooth, Grace. I like the sound of that.” He lifts my chin with one hand and kisses my lips, sending another shock through my system. “Never skips leg day? Awesome hearing? Fucks like it’s going out of style? I can work with that animal.”
“You’re incorrigible!” I spit back, going slack in his arms, hating myself because it just opens the door to more mischief.
“And you’re adorable—especially when you whip out those ten-dollar words, darlin’.” He winks at me and then stands. “Ready to call it a night?”
I have to say yes, even as regret floods me, knowing the fun is over.
It’s back to stressing over Dad’s recovery and the psychos with B-movie villain names who might show up any day.
Ugh.
Nodding, I get up and wait for him to fetch my coat. A shadow falls over me, about as big as Ridge, but when I look up, it’s a tall, muscular man with a similar build, dark hair, and emerald-green eyes.
I tense as he extends a hand.
“So you’re the little lady giving Ridge all sorts of hell.” He grins, an accent in his voice that’s not from North Dakota. Somewhere southern, I think. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am. I’m Quinn Faulkner, aka Faulk to almost everybody here.”
“Oh!” I snap my hand up and give him a hearty shake. “Right. He’s mentioned you. If you’re helping us with our problem, I—”
Faulk holds a finger up to his lips, still smiling. He’s handsome, chiseled in his own right, almost like Ridge belongs to some secret club of sexy strange men hiding in this little town. But I know which one’s my favorite.
“Sorry. I didn’t know you’d be here. Is everything all right?” I whisper.
“Besides losing a night of work so I could enjoy some good music and a buzz, it’s peachy,” he says with a nod. “I didn’t want to interrupt the main man while he was giving his speech, but I had to come over and introduce myself.”
“The hell are you doing here, man?” Ridge materializes behind him, holding my coat. “I thought I was hallucinating.”
“You know me,” Faulk laughs, raking a hand through his hair. “I gotta break up the monotony and put my finger on the pulse in Dallas. I’m just glad I came out and caught a live performance by the amazing Ridge Barnet. Especially seeing how it’s starting to feel like spring, and trouble’s coming with the pretty weather.”
“Yeah.” Ridge’s face goes serious, his smile melting. “Well, I’m glad you had a chance to say hello. I’m waiting on pins and needles for every email.”
His eyes flash, and he slaps Ridge’s shoulder. “Enjoy a night off. I heard from Drake that you’ve got the place all rigged up, looking out for any surprises. Everything’s quiet on my end, hoping to have some new leads for you soon. And if shit goes hot...”
He leans in, and I hear them whispering back and forth, but I can’t make it out.
“Lovely meeting you again,” Faulk says, turning back to me with a wave. “You two make a cute couple. Can’t wait for the wedding.”
He winks, scurrying away before Ridge can push him.
“What was he saying?” I ask, leaning in closer to his ear.
“Telling me he’s got our back. That’s Faulk for you, hell of a pain sometimes, but I’d be less of a man without friends like him.”
I smile, weirdly warmed at getting to meet someone else close to him.
A friend who’s willing to go out on a limb to banish our nightmare.
I slide both arms in my coat as he holds it for me.
The entire time, I tell myself this is all an act. There’s no good reason to be disappointed when we get home and everything reverts back to normal.
I’m just relieved it’s over and we managed to pull this off without starting a fire.
Well, not one that isn’t connected to a suspicious number of nerve endings.
It takes a good while to cross the room. Nearly every patron stops to say congratulations, or asks me a question about starting design work, and to thank Ridge for the open bar.
We’re almost to the door when another man walks up to us.
“My compliments to both of you, and thanks. The entire town’s gonna be talking this up forever.” He frowns, tugging on the bill of his hat. “Say, those newshounds you mentioned...they’ll do anything to get the scoop, won’t they?”
Ridge nods, but rather than answer, says, “Grace, this is Jess Berland. I bought my truck from his dealership when I first moved here.”
“Right, sorry,” Jess mumbles. “It’s real nice to meet you, Grace. I didn’t mean to be rude, I just...”
“You weren’t being rude,” I say, concerned by how he’s frowning.
“I was just asking because I stepped outside for a smoke earlier. Saw two guys near your truck.”
My insides freeze.
“They might not have done anything, but it looked kinda funny to me.” Jess digs around in his pants pocket and pulls out a key ring. “Here, take my ride. Just traded my old one in for something better, doesn’t even have its plates yet. It’s parked out back. I’ll have yours towed to the shop and check it over in the morning.”
“Funny how?” Ridge asks, sizing him up.
Jess shakes his head. “Well...it was pretty damn obvious. There was a dude climbing out from under your truck while the other guy stood lookout. They didn’t see me because I’d gone out the back door and walked around the side of the building.” He rattles his keys, still holding them out to Ridge. “Seriously. Take my truck, man.”
“How will you get home?” I ask.
He laughs. “Aw, hell. I’m related to half the people in here. I’ll get a ride.”
Ridge takes the key ring and passes over his own set of keys. “Thanks, Jess. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem! I’ll check it over real good for bugs—uh, surveillance devices,” Jess says, quickly darting a look around the room before leaning in. “I saw it in a movie once.”
Ridge gives him his best poker smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing like that. Just a few nosy-ass reporters who never learned to mind anybody’s business.”
“I’ve been watching, made sure you didn’t leave until we talked. Sorry it wasn’t sooner. I got held up by Arthur Snowden talking about how he almost cut his finger off fixing his wife’s washing machine last night.” Grinning, he tells me, “Arthur has a frequent flyer card for the clinic. He’s a walking accident and loves to tell everybody about his last ER visit.”
Nodding at me, Ridge says, “Your truck’s out back?”
“Yep. You might as well use the back door so you don’t have to walk around the whole building.”
Jess and Ridge talk about checking the truck as we move to the back door.
As we cross the patio, where there’s a tall outdoor heater blasting hot air, we say good night to several people, including a hefty-looking man with one hand wrapped in gauze—the infamous Arthur, I assume.
My stomach has been gurgling with dread ever since Jess told us about the men near Ridge’s truck.
I can’t believe I thought this would work.
Clay’s goons are wolves, plain and simple. Trying to scare them off might just make them more determined.
After we climb in a white pickup with Berland Auto Deals painted on the doors, I say, “It was Pete, wasn’t it?”
“Probably. A prick with a name like Jackknife seems destined for crappy jobs,” Ridge says. “I’m glad our announcement worked.”
Confused, I look at him. “Did it? How do you know?”
“Jess is a good guy. By showing up tonight, he saw those busy little fucking bees buzzing around the truck. Proves we’ve got someone else on our side looking out for us. And now we have a bar full of fine people who’ll spread our engagement news far and wide. By the end of the weekend, everyone in Dallas will be on the lookout for unfamiliar faces, thinking they’re reporters coming to shake them down.”
That’s...not half bad.
I lean back, letting it sink in.
“You ever lived in a small town?” he asks, looking over, his eyes dancing with blue mischief.
“No. Our farm was outside of the city, but still close enough. The nearest town was a suburb. It was different from city living, but it wasn’t the same as living way off the beaten path.” That’s the only way I can describe it.
“Can’t say I’m flush with experience either,” he says. “But I had Army buddies who came from small, homey places. Split Harbor and Heart’s Edge and plenty more sleepy little places in between. Hearing them talk about their hometowns made me curious. That’s what I was looking for when I hit up my buddy, Faulk, knowing he’d moved out here after years in the FBI. First time I visited Dallas, I knew I’d found my place.”
“Small towns can have their issues, too,” I say, having heard that. “I read about that Heart’s Edge place one state over. Jesus, all that Galentron stuff...”
“I know. There are demons everywhere and plenty more people who are just damn annoying. I’m used to it. It’s the community I’m after,” he tells me, this dark, whimsical look coming over his face.
“Why?”
“Can’t find that in L.A. Can’t even buy it. Plus, when it comes to little towns, their bad apples are easy to root out. Bastard scum like Clay just fester and thrive in their big city cover. And honestly? I’ve had enough of being worshiped by strangers back home. I want to be part of something normal, deeper, lasting.”
His eyes light up the longer he goes on, blue flames dancing around his pupils when he smiles.
If there was any question about Dallas being some kind of phase he’s going through, it’s gone.
“What about your family?” I ask, glancing over, choosing my words with surgical precision.
We’ve left town, and now we’re on the highway.
He glances in the mirror as he says, “Don’t have one anymore. Not counting Tobin, I guess. He’s not blood, but the man’s been around ever since I was a kid. He’s dedicated his entire life to service.”
“No one else since your mom died? No extended relatives?”
“No. My father had some kind of falling out when Grandpa’s airline was sold off in the merger. If it was deeper than that, I never knew it. So that side was just a big black hole. Mom, she ran off from home when she was sixteen and risked everything for her career. She landed in Hollywood, and always swore her family only reached out for money after abandoning her for years, so I never met them, either. Her folks are both long dead. Died before I went into the Army.”
My heart aches for him.
He speaks a pain I know too well. Outside Noelle and her family over in Miles City, Dad and I haven’t really had anyone since my mom passed on.
“What made you choose the Army?” I wonder out loud. “When you were arguing with your agent, I overheard her say something about covering for you?”
“Bebe Silk has a big damn savior complex...even if it’s well deserved. I had to get away, Grace.” He reaches across the console and takes my hand.
I turn, studying him, awed by how gorgeous he looks painted in the shadows.
“From everything. Mom had me in commercials and advertising since I was born. Then it was TV. Name a show from the nineties, and I was probably in several episodes as the neighbor kid, the injured kid, or the dead kid. Then I shifted to movies when I got older. Guest appearances in Mom’s big hits at first. By the time I was a teen, like they always do, I rebelled. Just wanted normalcy, to go to school instead of having on-site tutors as we traveled around the world, wherever the next movie was filming.”
“Wow. It sounds stressful.”
“That’s the trouble,” he says darkly. “The pressure became the norm, the only life I knew.”
“And Tobin?” I ask, too curious not to.
“He was my mom’s valet originally, and always too regal to settle for the term 'butler.' She couldn’t leave me home alone all the time while she was off filming or meeting very important people, so Tobin looked after me when I was young. Then when I hit my teens, he became my guy full time—another fun thing about being Hollywood royalty. Most kids hit a certain age and can’t wait to have their own lives. I got tied down with a glorified babysitter, who’d gladly report back to Mom if I snuck out with my friends twenty minutes too long.”
I smile. “It must’ve been hell on dating.”
“Yeah, just a little.” Ridge snorts, a smirk on his lips. “I got lucky he looked the other way one time when a
box of condoms fell out of my backpack. He’s not all bad, though. I’m thirty-three and still keeping him around...more for his benefit than mine. But even now, sometimes I appreciate when he saves me from my own dumb ass. Sometimes.”
The warmth of his hand sends lightning up my arm.
I should pull away, but I can’t.
“How old were you?”
“Fifteen.” He huffs out a laugh. “By the time I was sixteen, I decided I didn’t much like school either. So I made peace with acting. Started to put some real effort into it, not just going through the motions. It rubbed off on my studies so I could graduate...no thanks to Tobin again.”
“Oh? That good a teacher?”
“I hated the fuck out of history. Flunked every test in my life until junior year,” he says with a scowl. “I’m older and wiser now, and appreciate the past, but it took Tobin screwing my head on straight. He managed to get me interested with his books on trench warfare and heads getting hacked in the French revolution. By senior year, he’d rapped me over the knuckles enough times to get me writing essays on Tom Paine and Teddy Roosevelt...and enjoying it.”
Hilarious. I can almost see a younger Tobin fussing over Ridge with his Peter Pan good looks back in his teens.
I’d read a lot about his career online, especially all the films he’d been in as a child star. I’d even watched a few clips on YouTube, scenes from old movies I haven’t seen in years.
“How long were you in the Army?”
“Four years of active duty, one more in the reserves. I would’ve re-upped for active duty, but a bullet to the leg put me out of commission. Not bad enough to screw me over permanently. I could’ve come back, but Mom...it wasn’t fair to her anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“She hated having a son in the military and the constant worry that came with it. She thought it was too dangerous, especially when I came home for the last time with a purple heart. I had all sorts of people trying to get my time cut short when Judy Barnet put in the word. Congressman, the governor, it was goddamn embarrassing. So after my second tour was up, I discharged honorably.”
I still feel like there’s a cloud over him, something he’s holding back.
