When Petals Fall: A Cowboy, Second Chance Romantic Suspense (Chance Creek Book 1)

by A. L. Mercier

  He grinned showing off his straight, white teeth that braces had perfected in high school. "What I really think is that you're trying to deny what's going on between us."

  "There is no 'us' to deny

  "That's where you're wrong."

  "I'm n—"

  He placed a finger across her lips, effectively cutting her off. "Yes, you are. You know it, and I know it. So why don't you just stop denying it, let go, and have a good time?"

  "You're assuming a lot. Who's to say I don't have a boyfriend?"

  "Do you?"

  She didn't do cheating. "Well no, but that's not the point."

  "I think it is. Why is it, do you think, that you're still single?"

  She lifted a shoulder in a shrug and looked away, still watching from the corner of her eye. "I don't know. I guess I haven't met the right guy yet."

  He smiled, one side of his mouth kicking up in a grin. "Sure you have. Like I said, you know it and I know it. You're just denying what we both already know."

  Her gaze snapped to his. "Whether or not that's true, some things just can't be forgotten."

  His cocky grin faded, and a V of frustration formed between his brows. "You're right."

  "I am?"

  "Yep. But I'm a decent guy, so I forgive you."

  Now she laughed aloud. "You have got to be fucking kidding me. You forgive me?"

  "Sure do."

  "That's not what—I have nothing to be forgiven for."

  "You left without a word." When she started to interrupt him, he cut her off with just a look. "You left without waiting for an explanation. You ran then, and your denial of what's still between us tells me you're still running."

  "No, I'm not. Jake, I'm not staying."

  "So? You want casual, we'll do casual. No sense in denying the attraction, right?"

  "Well, I…" She was denying it. It was an effort at self-preservation. An ineffective one, but one way of protecting herself from him. From herself. From what they were together. She let out a breath and relaxed against him. What was the point in fighting the inevitable?

  "Did you want to dance outside, under the stars?"

  "No." God no. If they went somewhere private, somewhere they would be alone, somewhere romantic, she'd lose the last of her inhibitions. She needed to keep what little focus she still had. "I'm fine here."

  "Relax," he said as he pulled her close again, "and enjoy."

  Lizzie sighed. He was so stubborn, and there was nothing she could do about it now unless she wanted to argue with him. Again. And she was just plain tired of arguing with him, of arguing with herself, of fighting her feelings. She'd denied herself any meaningful form of pleasure for seven years so, damn it, she was going to linger in the seductive sway of his body.

  It'd been a long damn time since she danced like this with Jake. She was going to savor every second in his arms.

  His hand slid from the small of her back and up her spine in a sensual caress. And just like that the tingles were back, sparking awareness with the slightest of touches. Lizzie wrapped her arm tighter around his waist and he pulled their clasped hands to his chest. She snuggled deeper into him, then closed her eyes and let her mind shut down and her body take over.

  The music faded into the background, and when Jake rested his cheek on top of her head and shifted to pull her impossibly closer, everything and everyone else faded away. It was as if they were the only two people in the universe, dancing in their own little seductive cocoon.

  Despite the lazy movement of the dance, his heart beneath her ear beat as rapid as her own. A tingle started at the pit of her stomach and moved lower to become a throbbing ache. His erection pressed into her stomach, and with every sensuous slide of his body against hers, she wanted nothing more than to touch it, stroke it, ride it. Just the thought of his thick cock sliding in and out of her had moisture pooling at the apex of her thighs. She imagined how glorious it would feel, going over the edge, his cock pulsing inside her as she hurtled toward release. She wanted to feel that. Now. With him. Good grief! The man seduced her without saying a word. How pathetically easy did that make her?

  A cool breeze blew over her as Jake turned, and she welcomed the refreshing chill.

  He kissed the side of her neck. She tilted her head away, "Jake, someone might see."

  "No one's going to see a thing," he growled as the door clicked shut.

  "What…?" She opened her eyes. They were standing outside. She couldn't believe it. She had been so lost in sensation that she hadn't even noticed Jake dancing her out the back door of the Town Hall. Faint strains of music drifted from inside the building.

  "Let's dance out here."

  "This is such a bad idea."

  Jake nipped her bottom lip, then sucked on it.

  "I think it's a very, very good idea."

  The groan was totally involuntary, as involuntary as her stepping toward him in search of more of the sensation.

  He chuckled then kissed her. First with just a light press of his lips against hers, then his tongue ran along the seam, pressing until she opened for him.

  He walked her backwards, one step, two steps, until her back rested against the brick wall. The coolness of the night air faded with the press of his chest to hers.

  She swallowed as reality hit her. She was caught between a rock and a hard place—literally. He ground his hips against hers. Oh, what a wonderful place to be.

  With the first touch of his tongue against hers, her breath caught. With the second, she arched against him for more. Tongues dueled then retreated, at first tentatively, then more aggressively as the kiss went on, as their hunger for one another grew.

  One of his muscled thighs moved between hers, rubbing against her, forcing a whimper against his lips. She pulled back from the kiss, panting and straining for the pleasure she knew he could give her, would give her, if she would only ask.

  He cupped her breast in his hand, ran a thumb across her hardened nipple, sending a wave of pleasure straight to her core.

  A cool breeze washed over her, reminding of where they were and what she was doing and with whom. She pulled back.

  "Jake, we have to stop."

  He looked into her eyes and nodded. "I know."

  That was another thing she liked about Jake. He had never, ever gotten angry when she'd asked him to stop, and as a virginal teenager she had stopped him a lot.

  "Let's go over here." He eased her down, held her hand in his, and led her to one of the picnic tables in the shadows next to the building. He lifted her so she sat on the edge of the table then tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  "You sure you want to stop?"

  "No," she whispered. She grasped his shirt in one hand and pulled him down for a searing kiss. She pulled back from the kiss and tilted her head to the side.

  "Did you hear that?"

  His brows furrowed. "Hear what?"

  "It sounded like—" Footsteps retreated. "That."

  Jake just shrugged. "Probably someone who didn't want to wait in line for the bathroom."

  "Probably. It's not like the town doesn't have the money to make the bathrooms larger. I think Mayor Clark just likes watching everyone hop around from one foot to the other while they have to wait in line."

  Jake chuckled. "The sadist."

  "Yeah," Lizzie said with indignation as she flopped back on the picnic table.

  Jake sat next to her, lifted Lizzie's head, and rested it on his thigh.

  "How's that?"

  "Perfect. Thank you."

  "You're welcome."

  Silence surrounded them and then it sank in. What had she just done? Again. Crap. "Um, Jake?"

  "Hmm?" He ran his hand through her silky curls. She loved it when he did that.

  "We need to talk."

  "We've already talked."

  "Not hardly."

  "What did you leave out?"

  "I'm not staying in Chance Creek, Jake. I've got five, maybe six months before All
About ME is up and running and then I'll be living in Jackson Hole."

  "Alright."

  "I don't think you're hearing me."

  He ran his fingers lazily up and down her arm. "I heard you. I don't see why we can't take things as they come."

  "You make it sound so simple."

  "What's so hard about it?"

  She blew out a frustrated breath. "So many things."

  "I disagree. We can go out, have a good time, and if we happen to have hot, sweaty sex, well, that's just a bonus."

  She rolled her eyes. "Oh brother."

  "What?" he asked, feigning innocence. Jake was many things, but innocent wasn't one of them.

  "You know exactly what."

  He chuckled. Silence filled the air, not an uncomfortable one but rather a welcome one, one that Jake broke.

  "We're going to have to talk about it sometime, Lizzie."

  "I know." She closed her eyes as tears burned. "But I'm not ready to hear it yet."

  "Darlin'?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Just let me know when you are, and we'll clear the air."

  She nodded, a solitary tear slid free.

  "It's not as bad as all that, I can promise you." He wiped the wet trail from her tear away.

  She nodded again, then sniffled. It sure felt like it. Her heart hurt with an intensity that stole her breath at the memory.

  "We better get back inside. I'm sure everyone is wondering where we are." Yeah, right. In a town this small everyone already knew where they were.

  She hopped down from the picnic table and straightened her clothes as they walked toward the door.

  "Why don't we start with dating," she blurted out.

  He lifted a brow. "Sure. Any rules to this dating?"

  "No sex." What? What was she saying?

  He eyed her up and down, his gaze lingering first on the apex of her thighs and then the blush on her cheeks. She hated how much she blushed.

  "You think you're up to it?"

  "I bet I can hold out longer than you," she challenged.

  "Is that right? You want to put a wager on that one, Darlin'?"

  "What kind of wager?"

  "Well now, let me think for a minute."

  She rolled her eyes. Like he needed a minute. She knew he had something in mind. He always had something in mind.

  "How about this. If you hold out longer than me, I'll be your willing servant for a weekend."

  She laughed and rubbed her hands together. "Oooh, that could be interesting. Same goes for me. If you hold out longer than me, I'll be yours."

  "You already are mine, but I'm going to enjoy winning this wager," he said with a smile.

  It was funny how he thought he could beat her at no sex. Not likely.

  "You're going to eat those words." She hopped down from the picnic table and straightened her clothes as they walked toward the door.

  She nodded. When Lizzie turned the doorknob, it didn't budge. She twisted it from side to side, then again. She looked at Jake, half panicked and half irritated. "It's locked."

  "One last rule," he added.

  "Now you're making up the rules?"

  "Just this one."

  "Alright. Let's hear it," she said.

  "No sex is what you said."

  She nodded.

  "My rule is no touching yourself. No getting yourself off."

  She laughed again. "Can men even function without masturbating?"

  He smirked. "You'd be surprised."

  "One thing though." She gave the door another rattle. "You do realize this will have to be just a casual thing."

  "We'll see how it turns out." He leaned in and gave her a brief kiss.

  She supposed she should get used to the pecks instead of the passionate kisses. She was already hating this bet.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  He ignored her question and pulled out his Swiss Army knife. "Let's see what I can do about getting us back in there."

  "Wait, what did you mean by that?"

  He fiddled with the lock until it unlatched, opened the door, and met her gaze. "That means I bet I can change your mind."

  8

  Lizzie

  She slept like a baby.

  From the minute Lizzie's head hit the pillow last night she'd been out like a light, sleeping peacefully and deeply for the first time in nearly a week. At first her insomnia had been due to anticipation of coming home, then due to Jake. And now, she had none. Wonderful.

  As a result, she couldn't even work up resentment when Bailey licked her cheek and whined in her ear. She eyed her furry friend.

  "You need to go outside, boy?" Bailey barked, tail wagging with such force his whole body wiggled. "Out?" Lizzie teased. Bailey barked again and spun in a circle.

  While she packed up her things, Katie'd done her a solid and picked up Bailey a few weeks earlier. Watching him run in circles reminded her of how much she'd missed him and his antics. Bailey was her buddy. She gave him a scratch behind his ears.

  She'd had such a good time last night, fitting in with everyone as if she'd never left. It was an uplifting feeling and one that had potential to turn her into a morning person after all, she thought as she pushed the covers back. That, and the thought of her mother's coffee. At least for the next six months.

  Lizzie changed from her pajamas into jeans and a t-shirt, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, tugged on her shoes, and then headed out the front door.

  Lizzie stepped into the early morning sunlight. While she was home, she'd be staying in the loft above the barn. It was her favorite place. Bailey bolted down the stairs He had free rein here on the Bar T and he loved every minute of it. Truth be told, so did she.

  She headed toward the house with Bailey playfully running ahead, chasing after the birds on the lawn that were seeking their own breakfast. Lizzie could smell the bacon from across the yard and her mouth started to water. Her stomach growled at the thought of one of her mother's breakfast spreads.

  Bailey spotted Duke, the family's lazy old hound dog sprawled out on the porch taking a nap. Bailey had been trying to make friends for the past week, but Duke just wasn't giving in, this morning being no exception. Duke laid there stiff and annoyed, one eye open, one still closed, while Bailey sniffed around him.

  Lizzie called Bailey off before the old dog got too irritated. She leaned down to give Duke a rub behind his ears and the dog let out what might have been a weak bark, but it sounded more to her like a protest that someone had disturbed his nap. "Good to see you too, old fella. Bailey here wants to be your friend, but you're not being very welcoming."

  "He never was much of a people person, or animal person for that matter," her dad said from behind her.

  "Morning, Daddy," Lizzie said turning to greet him. Her father was a tall man, well over six feet, his shoulders broad and strong like the rest of him. His hair was now more grey than brown, and his tanned face barely wrinkled, contradicting his age of sixty-two. There were the ever-present crinkles around his hazel eyes and mouth, telltale smile lines of a man who lived and loved happily.

  There had been the occasional weekend visit over the years, but no matter how much time they spent together on those weekends it never seemed like nearly enough.

  "You're up early." He put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  "My doggie alarm clock woke me up." Lizzie nodded toward Bailey who unrelentingly continued to try to play with the birds.

  "Ah. He looks like he'd be good at that." He steered her toward the steps to the house. "We better head on in before your mother—"

  "Before her mother what?" her mother said from the screen door. Margaret Thomason was a tiny woman, five foot nothing and small framed. Her fiery hair, a testament to the Irish brewing inside her, curled about her shoulders and lay silkily down her back, contrasting sharply against the white shirt and apron she wore. Her jeans were weathered and worn as were her sneakers, but no matter what the attire, her mothe
r, with those piercing emerald eyes and striking features, always looked like she belonged on the pages of a fashion magazine rather than in the kitchen on a ranch in Wyoming.

  "—calls us in for breakfast."

  "Hmm." Her mother raised a brow. "I'm thinking that's not what you were going to say, Peter Thomason."

  "Margaret, my love, you know I'd never say anything bad about you," her dad replied as he opened the door then gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  "At least not to my face," she added as she swatted at him with the dishtowel in her hand. "Go on with you then," she said in her Irish lilt. "Breakfast is on the table."

  "Morning, Mama."

  "Good morning to you, my girl. It's so good to have you home." Her mother gave her a quick hug then pulled back to study her, a near mirror image of herself. Where Lizzie's hair was auburn, her mother's was a more vibrant shade of red. The deep green of her eyes reminded Lizzie of sparkling emeralds whereas Lizzie's were the color of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

  "Well, you're looking nice and rested this morning."

  "I feel great." Lizzie gave her mom a kiss on the cheek then took her seat at the table where Brand, Matt, and her dad were already seated. Matt and Brand were eating with vigor, fueling up for the day ahead. In spite of the fact that they had already put in an hour or two, they still had many more to go before their workday was through.

  "Well, that's good then. I think you've been needing a good night's rest."

  "That she has," her father said. "At least those dark circles are starting to fade some."

  "Now all we've got to do is put some meat on her bones." Her mother took her seat at the table, next to her father who sat at the opposite end as her brother.

  "You better be careful. Lavishing me with all those compliments will make my head swell." She hadn't realized she looked like death warmed over, but now that things were less hectic, she hoped to rectify that.

  Lizzie looked at the meal spread before her and thought there'd be no doubt about putting on the pounds while eating her mother's cooking. She seriously needed to get back into exercising, so she would put on muscle rather than fat, but the thought appealed to her as much as having a tooth pulled. Did walking to and from her SUV count as exercise?