“Not to mention,” the old woman went on, “there’s the added bonus of sharing yourself with more than one person. Group encounters can be very healthy and enlightening. You’ll learn more about that when you reach Eden…”
The engine roared and the plane started down the runway. Deanie clutched the arms of her seat and did her best to ignore the hollowness in the pit of her stomach. And her chest.
Instead, she focused on the old woman who went on to fill Deanie in on the health benefits—both mental and physical—of publicly exposing one’s self.
What the hell am I doing?
The thought struck fifteen minutes later as they started their descent.
You’re changing. Evolving. Getting in touch with your inner female.
The trouble was, Deanie’s inner female wasn’t any more enlightened than her outer female. If getting in touch with her sexuality meant streaking buck naked through a crowd of people, then she was doomed to stay out of touch.
No way was Deanie shedding her clothes in front of a classroom of people, not even for education’s sake.
Some might call her naive and unsophisticated, and they would be right. Deanie was both.
She still believed in one man and one woman. She believed in love and commitment and romance and leaving a few things to the imagination. And she knew, deep down inside, that no makeover, no matter how extreme, was going to change that.
“Aren’t you getting off?” the old woman asked when they rolled to a stop and she and her husband stood to file off the plane.
“No, ma’am.” Deanie refastened her seat belt. “I’m going home.”
RANCE STOOD OUT in front of the Feed-n-Seed in downtown Romeo and stared across the street. It was only February, but the air was already starting to heat up, foreshadowing the blistering summer that would soon follow. A drop of perspiration slid down Rance’s temple, but the heat gripping him had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the woman who’d taken up shop in the newly renovated building that sat directly in his line of vision.
A new sign, just delivered and installed that afternoon, sat out front of the green and white building that had once been home to the Senior Ladies’ group, all of whom had been Deanie’s most loyal customers. They’d shown their support of the town’s only female mechanic by pooling their money and helping to fund Romeo’s newest business.He eyed the sign, white like the building, with big green letters that read Deanie’s Auto Repair.
He tipped his cowboy hat back and searched for a glimpse of the owner the way he’d done every day for the past two weeks since Valentine’s Day and their twenty-four hour interlude.
The longest two weeks of Rance’s life.
He wanted her so damned much that his first instinct when he’d heard she’d come home was to drive over to her place, hitch her over his shoulder, take her into the house and love her until she trusted him as much as she loved him.
That was the key ingredient they were missing. While she loved him, she didn’t trust him enough to believe that he really loved her.
She knew he lusted after her, and taking her to bed would just prove it.
So he’d kept his distance and bided his time, busying himself with the renovation on the old rodeo arena and hoping like hell she came to her senses. He’d been sleeping on a cot in the main office, putting off actually finding a place of his own until she came around.
But he’d just about reached his limit.
He spotted her through the window that led to the office of her shop and his heart skipped its next beat. As if she sensed his presence, she turned and caught his stare through the window.
It took everything Rance had not to cross the street, but he kept his boots rooted to the pavement and tipped his hat instead. He wasn’t going to screw this up by rushing in and bullying her the way she’d done him so many times in the past when they’d been kids.
Rance had something a damned sight different in mind. Something romantic. Something a woman like Deanie Codge wouldn’t be able to resist.
At least that’s what he told himself. He could only hope like hell that he was right.
DEANIE STOOD in the massive garage that had once hosted bingo parties and Friday afternoon lunches and blinked. Once, twice, but they didn’t disappear.
They, as in flowers. Red roses, to be exact. Everywhere she looked. They sat in vases in the corners and on the machinery she’d recently purchased thanks to the senior ladies and a small bank loan. There were roses on the wall-to-wall toolboxes. Her refurbished hydraulic lift. They sat in front of her mountain of oil cans and her computerized transmission test unit.“Happy Valentine’s Day.” The deep husky voice drew her attention to the doorway that led from a small office area to the garage.
She turned to find Rance standing not more than two feet away. He wore faded jeans, a white T-shirt and dusty boots, and he looked every bit the real cowboy now that he’d come home.
She blinked to make sure it was really him because she’d imagined him there too many times over the past two weeks to actually believe it.
But he didn’t disappear this time.
She’d seen him around town, but he’d kept his distance and so she’d kept hers, concluding that it had been exactly what she’d feared. Lust, not love. At least on his part, and now it was over.
Finit.
Th-that’s all folks!
But now that she saw him up close, she wasn’t so sure. He didn’t look anything like a man who’d moved on to bigger and better things.
“You look terrible.” She noted the taut lines around his mouth and the dark shadows beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.
Two weeks, to be exact.
“And you look good enough to eat.” His gaze roamed her from head to toe, pausing at all the interesting spots in between.
As if she were standing there wearing a sexy teddy rather than old, faded navy blue overalls, her hair pulled up beneath a baseball cap.
As if.
Even as the doubt rolled through her mind, it didn’t stir her insecurity. Because Deanie hadn’t just come home two weeks ago. She’d come to the realization that she actually liked herself. She wasn’t perfect and pretty and sexy like a lot of other women, but that was okay. Being all of those things didn’t guarantee success when it came to relationships—Savannah Sierra Ellington had shown her that much.
Likewise, Mavoreen had shown her that a woman didn’t have to be any of those things to be wildly successful.
The key, Deanie had come to realize, was being happy with who you were. Content.
Deanie was both of those things now that she’d come back to her element. And she was no longer willing to accept a man who couldn’t see beyond her rough exterior. She wanted one who appreciated the fact that she had a wrench and knew how to use it as much as he appreciated the size of her breasts or the length of her legs.
A man who looked at her with his whiskey-colored eyes as if he wanted to eat her up right then and there.
A man who would send her flowers—a whole garage full of them—for Valentine’s Day.
She frowned. “It’s not Valentine’s Day.”
“Not technically. But I was hoping we could still celebrate.” He crossed the distance to her and handed her a heart made out of red construction paper. “Will you be my valentine?” Before she could reply, he shook his head. “To hell with that.” His gaze grew fierce. “I love you, Deanie, and I want you to be a helluva lot more than my valentine. I want you to be my wife.”
She stared down at the heart she held in her hands before lifting her gaze to the man who’d held her heart in his for so many years.
And still did.
“I think I can arrange that.” And then she threw herself into his arms and kissed him for all she was worth.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5316-6TALL, TANNED TEXAN
Copyright © 2006 by Kimberly Raye Groff.
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