One Hundred Ways: An Aspen Cove Romance

by Collins, Kelly

  She joined her aunt for a cup of coffee and a frank conversation. “I’m new. I’m learning my way around the town and the people. I don’t want to rock the boat.”

  Maisey shook her head. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to rock the boat, but you do need to drive it. Meg will strap you to a float and drag you behind if you let her. Don’t let her.” She reached over and laid her hand on top of Riley’s. “There are drivers and passengers. You’ve been a passenger your entire life. Happy to sit in the back seat and let someone else determine your destination. When you got in the car and came to Aspen Cove, you became the driver. Where will you take yourself?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Meg was like a sticky booger Luke couldn’t shake off. He sat there at the diner and told her in no uncertain terms he wasn’t interested in a relationship. At least not with her.

  As he went over last week's calls and filed the paperwork, he thought about the toaster fire in the diner. Had it been two days since he’d been there? Two days since he’d seen Riley?

  He had hoped she’d seek him out. That would tell him for sure she was interested in him. There had been no mention of their kiss, but he’d never forget it.

  He’d kissed a lot of women in his years, but never had a kiss made his heart beat like a bass drum. The minute their lips touched, the heat between them was inferno-like.

  “Fizzle, my ass.”

  “What’s that?” Thomas walked in the office and took the chair in front of the desk. “Did you say you sizzle?”

  “Nah, man.” He replayed the entire conversation with Meg in his head. “Meg told me she’s more fizzle than sizzle.”

  Thomas’s eyes got big. “Meg claimed to be more fizzle?”

  Luke set down his pen and looked up at his friend. “No, pay attention. She says Riley is more fizzle than sizzle.”

  “You disagree?”

  Luke licked his lips, hoping somehow, he could remember the taste of hers. “Without a question.”

  “You’ve experienced Riley’s heat?” He moved forward, folding his hands on the packet of papers he set down. “Like, her heat-heat?” He glanced down.

  “Get your head out of the gutter. I’m not going to kiss and tell.”

  Thomas’s head nodded slowly. “It all starts with a kiss.”

  “Says the confirmed bachelor buying a family home on a street called Pansy.”

  He sat back and frowned. “It gets me more bang for the buck.”

  “With your crazy standards, you’ll never see any bang in that house.”

  “What standards? My only prerequisite is they have to be breathing and willing.”

  “Not true. Abby wants you.”

  “No, no, no. She raises bees. I’m allergic to bees.”

  “And commitment.”

  “True, I’m allergic to that, too, but it’s not like there’s a lot of options here.”

  Luke filed the last paper away and leaned back in his chair. “What about that schoolteacher who lives on Daisy Lane? Mercy… Mercy Meyer, I think.”

  “No, no, no. She’s a first-grade teacher. She likes kids. I’m allergic to kids.”

  Luke laughed. “There’s Reese Arden. She house sits for her uncle Frank, the hockey coach. You like hockey, right?”

  “I do like hockey, but she’s a writer, which means she likes words, and honestly, I’d be afraid she’d talk my ear off.”

  “You’re allergic to words, too?”

  Thomas nodded. “Would seem so.” He shifted his attention to the papers in front of him. “What do you think of this house?”

  Luke rolled Thomas his pen. “Stop being a pansy, and sign the damn papers. It’s not like you’re going anywhere, and if truth be told, it would be nice to get you out of the firehouse on occasion.”

  “Why? You want to chase Riley around? Let her slide down your pole?”

  “I know why you’re single. It's not because you’re allergic to anything. It’s because you’re an asshole.”

  “I’m that, too.” He wrote his name at the bottom of the initial offer. “What about you? Are you going to rent that piece of crap on Bark Lane forever, or are you going to put down roots?”

  “I’m in negotiations right now for a sweet piece of property. I’ll let you know how it all goes.”

  “You do that.” He rose from the chair and walked to the door. “I’m going to Doc’s.”

  “That’s a man of many talents. He can heal ya, kill ya, marry you and sell you a house.”

  “Currently, I’m only in the market for option four. The others…”

  “I know, you’re allergic to them.”

  Thomas pointed at Luke. “You’re a smart one.”

  He nodded. “That’s why I make the big bucks.”

  “Yep, and why you get to do all the paperwork.”

  Luke wanted to ask him if he was allergic to that, too, but he didn’t want to beat a dead horse. Thomas was a good man. He was hard-working, thorough, and he never complained about anything except the lack of available women and the smell of James’s dirty socks, which honestly could make a man faint.

  Left to himself, Luke’s thoughts went back to Riley. Maybe it was time to pay her a visit. His lips ached for another kiss. His eyes craved another look. His heart begged to have the blood pump like a raging river through it again.

  He picked up his keys and walked over to the diner, hoping she’d be finishing her shift. When he got there, the only person he saw was Meg.

  “Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”

  “Meg, we talked about this. You need to set your sights on someone else. I’m not your man.”

  She groaned. “How do you know? It’s like saying you don’t like chocolate without ever trying it.” She let her finger crawl up the buttons of his shirt until she tapped his chin. “Don’t you want a taste?”

  “Jeez, Meg, let it go.”

  She gave his chest a push, sending him back a step or two. “I bet you’re not even that good a kisser.”

  Was she trying to use humiliation to get him to act? “Yep, you pegged me right away. I’m an awful kisser.” Did he dare take it up another notch? “You thought the pool player had a small stick?” He walked toward the kitchen. “Is Dalton around?”

  “You missed him. He’s at the culinary school, teaching Basil Dawson how to debone a chicken.”

  “Now, there’s a man for you.”

  “You think I’d be interested in a cowboy?”

  He wanted to tell her he thought she’d be interested in anything with a job and a penis, but he didn’t.

  “He’s handsome. He’s motivated. He’s a man who spends his days on the range. I bet he’d be an attentive boyfriend.”

  “Hmm, I like attention.”

  God help me. Luke pulled his wallet from his back pocket and took out two singles. “Can I have a coffee to go?”

  “Sure.” She picked up the coffee pot and poured him a to-go cup. “You know what they say?”

  Luke poured a stream of sugar and a splash of cream into his cup. “I haven’t got a clue.”

  Meg smiled. She reached up and tugged her ponytail. “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy.”

  He pressed the lid onto the Styrofoam cup and turned around.

  “That’s the way to rebound.”

  “I’m not giving up on you, Luke. I’m giving you a break from me. I’ll be back.”

  Of course, you will. Thanks for the warning.

  “See you later, Meg.”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  Luke walked out of the diner with one destination in mind—the Guild Creative Center. With any luck, he’d find Riley. Stopping to see Dalton was simply a shortcut to finding her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Several large sheets of metal had been delivered to the studio this morning. Riley looked at the materials and let out a happy giggle.

  Once she was organized, she’d get started on moving the design to the metal, then cutting them out.

  In order to w
ork efficiently, she had to know she was safe. Keeping the tanks at a reasonable distance from the work area was important. She’d asked her father to invest in longer connections so an accident like the one she’d survived at sixteen would never happen again.

  She rolled the tanks close to the wall and unwound the cords and connectors.

  In the center of the room, she put a long metal table and a couple wooden horses to support her work-in-progress.

  On a table next to the wall, she laid out her smaller items—a box of wire and beads, pin backs and earring clasps, pliers, a small hammer, a soldering gun, and a small propane torch. The equipment she used to make jewelry and ornaments.

  All the while, she thought about Meg. Had she turned the toaster back to five? It would have been nice to have a friend, but she wasn’t sure where she stood with Meg.

  “It’s about Luke.” She looked around the room and laughed at herself. Anyone looking from the outside would think she’d lost her marbles but talking to herself helped her analyze her life. The spoken words helped define situations.

  “Does she hate me?” She lined up her tools like attentive soldiers. “Or does she hate that I’ve caught the eye of Mr. Sexy Fireman?” All she knew was Meg wasn’t someone she wanted as an enemy if she could make her a friend.

  Dalton had brought over a roll of butcher paper. She pulled out a six-foot length and taped it to the table in the center of the room.

  Freehand, she drew the outline of a guitar and closed her eyes to imagine how it would look on stage.

  “Fire.” She sketched a few flames shooting from the neck. “Hot, smoldering…Luke.”

  How she’d melded Luke into her thoughts about the sculpture, she didn’t know. Maybe because his kisses made her feel on fire, maybe because he had smoldering eyes and a mouth that could ignite her flame.

  “Damn man, looks like a calendar model and kisses like a playboy.” Is he a playboy?

  “What if he kisses all the girls in town?” Riley touched her lips with her hands. “What if he kissed Meg and that’s why she’s mad at me?”

  “I don’t, and I haven’t.” His deep voice floated through the room.

  She whirled around to find Luke leaning on the door, holding a pizza box.

  “How long have you been there?” The heat rising to her cheeks was like an ember ready to flame. She feared she’d need a fireman to temper the burn.

  “Long enough to know I look like a model and kiss like a playboy.”

  She opened and closed her mouth. What could she say? “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

  “Ruder to gossip.” He pushed off the wall and walked into her space. When he got close, he set the box on the table and looked at her.

  “I wasn’t telling stories.”

  He rubbed the scruff on his chin, and the scratchy sound moved through the nearly empty space. “Fire. Hot, smoldering Luke.” He said the words like an actor trying to seduce her with his low, gravelly voice. One brow lifted, as did the corner of his mouth, which shifted into a half-smile. “Will you deny it?”

  “Oh my God, you were here for the whole thing. I was talking to myself.”

  “And what advice would you give yourself? You obviously like my kisses. Would you pursue another or sacrifice the pleasure for a friendship with Meg?”

  “I was merely comparing your kiss to a far superior kiss. While you have rudimentary skills, you’ve got room for improvement.”

  “Is that right?” He took a step closer, placing himself inches from her body.

  She hadn’t realized how tall he was. Normally, he was sitting in a booth when she saw him. When he kissed her, she’d had several drinks, so everything was fuzzy.

  “I had a few glasses of wine, which could have distorted my perception.”

  “For better or worse?”

  “Hard to tell.” All of a sudden, her mouth dried up like a desert. Her tongue was like coarse sandpaper scuffing the roof of her mouth.

  “I’d like another chance to at least tie with the superior kisser. Who was he?”

  Thoughts of kissing Luke again sent a flood of desire rushing through her.

  “My brother’s pug, Samson.”

  “Oh, hell no.” He inched forward until they were chest to chest. Luke lowered his mouth to hers in a gentle brush of his lips before he crushed them against hers.

  She had no choice but to submit. Not that she wanted to do anything else. The moment his lips touched hers, she opened her own in a soft moan.

  A sweep of his tongue and the minty taste of him made her mouth water for more. A lash of his tongue against hers. A nibble on her lip. His hands wrapping around her body as if somehow, he knew her knees were but rubber bands.

  Without a thought, her arms wrapped around his waist and her fingers traced the firm muscles of his back.

  A rattling of keys broke them apart. They fell against the work table, out of breath.

  “Oh, sorry.” The lawman took in the whole scene. “Saw the lights on and wondered who was here so late.”

  “Hey, Mark.” Luke wrapped his arm around Riley and led her toward the man in the sheriff’s uniform. “This is Riley Black. Dalton’s cousin.” He turned to her. “This is Deputy Sheriff Mark Bancroft.”

  Riley had a brief moment where she wanted the cement floor to open up and swallow her, but she pulled back her shoulders and smiled. It wasn’t as if she’d been caught doing something illegal.

  “Nice to meet you, Sheriff.”

  He looked at her like she was in a line-up. Then his eyes went to Luke.

  “So glad you found your own girl. Now you can stop pretending to be my wife’s love interest.”

  “Oh.” Riley slapped her palm to her chest. “I’m not his girl.”

  “No? You kiss everyone like a dieter sneaking a piece of cake?”

  She wanted to react in shock, but his metaphor was too funny to ignore, so she laughed.

  “Oh, the kiss.” She nodded and glanced up at Luke. “I’m trying to help him perfect his skill set so he doesn’t disappoint others.”

  “You keep telling yourself that.” He took in the box of pizza on the table. “Hope you like your pizza cold.” Mark left the studio; his laughter was heard until he walked outside the center and the door slammed behind him.

  Riley’s nose lifted and inhaled. The faint smell of baked cheese and bread scented the air.

  "You brought pizza?” She knew it would be full of meat. If he offered her a slice, she’d have to turn him down because it wouldn’t be nice to pull off the crust and toss the rest in the garbage.

  “I did. I’ve kissed you twice and haven’t once bought you a meal.”

  “Had I known that was the going rate for a kiss in Aspen Cove, I’d never go hungry.”

  “Don’t sell your kisses so cheaply. They’re worth far more than a meal.”

  “Depends on who you’re talking to.”

  “I’m talking to you. How you see yourself is how others will see you, too.” He looked around the room. There wasn’t a chair in sight. “Can I use one of those?” He pointed to a stack of moving blankets sitting unused in the corner.

  She chewed on his words of wisdom. Her experience was, how others saw her was how she saw herself. She glanced at the quilted blankets in the corner. “Knock yourself out.”

  He picked up one and spread it out on the floor. “Care to join me for a picnic?”

  Everything in her screamed yes, but she wasn’t sure. Sitting down for a meal would only give him a quick look at how different they were. She’d seen his plate at the diner—half-filled with bacon. “I’ll join you while you eat, but I don’t eat…”

  He held up a finger and rushed to get the pizza box. With the flourish of a game show host, he opened it to show a vegetarian pizza.

  “How did you know?”

  “I asked.” He walked to the blanket and took a seat, patting the space beside him.

  It was a simple answer, but one she wasn’t accustomed to. The concept of s
omeone asking about what she liked was as foreign to her as speaking German or French.

  “Wow.” She sank into the spot next to him. “Not used to that.”

  He gave her an odd look. “Get used to it. You first.” He held the box while she pulled a slice out.

  “Do you like veggie pizza?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I like bread, cheese, and vegetables. I’ll pretend this is a combo without the meat.”

  Flexibility and consideration were also foreign to her.

  “Are you a holder or a folder?” She looked at the slice he picked up and watched.

  “Is there a right way?”

  She bent the crust so the slice collapsed in the center, turning her piece into a makeshift calzone.

  “No, but I like mine neat and tidy. Folding limits the risk of ruining my clothes.”

  He kept his flat and bit off the end. “I guess I’m a holder.”

  She thought of how he’d held her during the kiss. “Yes, you are. You’re an amazing holder.” She knew she must have had some dorky, dreamy look in her eyes by the way he smiled at her.

  “We’re no longer talking about pizza, are we?”

  She took a bite and shook her head.

  “Can we revisit your assessment of my kiss? I’d hate to fall second to a pug.” He took another bite and chewed while he waited.

  “No contest. You win. Samson uses too much tongue and saliva. When he kisses my face, I need a shower.”

  “Glad you don’t feel the need for soap and water after me.”

  She tried on her bolder persona. “No, when I kiss you, I just want more.”

  He dropped his half-eaten pizza back in the box.

  “Hold that thought.” He rushed from her studio and returned with two bottles of water. After a drink and a thorough swish, he moved closer. Moments later, they’d forgotten all about the pizza. In a tangled mass of limbs, they fed each other kisses.

  She had to admit he might be the best kisser she’d ever experienced. When her stomach growled, he pulled away.

  “Appetizer is over. Time for the main course.”

  A surge of excitement arced through her. He seemed to like her kisses as much as she liked his. Could this be the start of something good? A flash of Meg’s unhappy face flashed in her mind. Not wanting to ruin the moment, she tucked all thoughts of Meg away for later. “What are you offering?”