“The same thing that brought me to this bar,” she answered truthfully. “Work.”
“You don’t like your job?”
“I love my job. I’ve just been in overdrive lately. I guess I’m a little burned out.” A lot burned out, actually, but she was in the homestretch of this sprint. Almost there, if she could just keep it together long enough to reach the finish line.
He nodded with understanding. “Burn out is hard to get past. What kind of work do you do?”
“I co-own a small chain of men’s clothing stores,” she said. “My business partner and I have opened four so far.”
“Impressive. And you’re opening another near here?”
“Right here. In Starlight Bend.”
Ty let out a bark of laughter. When she didn’t join in, his expression turned incredulous. “You’re serious?”
“Absolutely. I have just enough time to get the doors open and catch the holiday retail wave.”
“Wave? Starlight Bend isn’t big enough for a wave.”
“Maybe, maybe not. It’s an easy drive from Kalispell and not far from the Canadian border, though. Canadians like nice things, right?”
“Sure.”
She narrowed her eyes, not trusting that sure. “It’s a solid location. Our other stores are in similar demographics and they’re doing fine.”
He took a drink of his beer, eyes glinting again. “Have you ever even been to Montana before, Kari?”
“No, but—”
“No?”
“It doesn’t matter. We know what we’re doing.” She might have left it at that, but he looked so unconvinced that she had to go on. “The ratio of men to women is very high in Starlight Bend,” she told him. “That’s good for sales.”
Had she really just said that? Had to be the alcohol. Normally, she was very articulate about their strategic plan and the success they’d had so far. But normally, she wasn’t drinking shots in a bar beside a man who looked like this one. Up close, he took attractive to a whole new level.
“And you think that ratio’s going to make all the men go shopping?” he asked, clearly perplexed.
“Well, yes. If they want to catch the eye of the fairer sex.”
“The fairer sex?” he repeated skeptically. “I hate to tell you this, Kari, but that’s not really the way things are done out here.”
“Yeah, that’s what they said in the last town, and the one before that. But some things are the same no matter where you go. If a man wants to make a good first impression—”
Ty held up a hand. “Sweetheart, in this town, first impressions get made when you’re born.”
“My point exactly.”
“What point?” he said with a teasing laugh that made her smile, too.
“He’s going to have to make her look twice,” she insisted. “The women here know everything about the men in their vicinity. And frankly, they’re bored.”
“Did you Google that?”
“Starlight Bend has almost twice as many men as women, yet sixty percent of the single women of marriageable age, choose to remain single. That’s a majority,” she said, in case he’d missed it.
“Who does your math?”
She smiled. “Right now, Irish whiskey.”
“In that case . . . Stan, load us up.”
“Load us up,” she agreed, laughing.
Evidently, Stan didn’t see the humor. Scowling, he poured them each another shot, which only made it funnier.
“I don’t think he likes us,” Kari said.
“He loves me,” Ty said. “I think it’s just you he’s got problems with.”
The door opened and a gust of cold air came in with two men. “Hey, Ty,” one of them called out. The other waved, looking curiously between Kari and Ty.
Ty returned the wave, but angled his body toward Kari, putting an arm over the back of her stool.
“Are they coming this way?” he asked.
Casually, she glanced at the men. “They’re thinking about it.”
“Lean closer. Act like I’m saying something important.”
Trying her hardest to look serious, she nodded intently. “And you think Kim Jong-un is really an alien time traveler? How did I not know that, Ty?”
The two men hesitated a few steps away, then moved to take seats by the window.
“I think you’re safe from your friends,” she murmured.
“Did you just say Kim Jong-un is an alien time traveler?”
“You put me on the spot,” she protested.
“And that’s what came to you?”
His expression made her laugh again. She liked this history teacher. He was quick to smile, smart. Charming, with just enough worldliness gleaming in his eyes to intrigue her. Make her want to know more about him.
He picked up his shot glass. Dutifully, she did, too.
“All right, Kari. Are we going for blackout drunk or just drunk enough to make poor choices?”
“Definitely poor choices.”
“Poor choices it is,” he said with slow smile that she felt right down to her high-heeled, fur-lined boots.
And it felt good.
She didn’t usually mingle with the natives. Her job demanded that she travel light, literally and figuratively. It was simply easier not to form relationships she’d have to deal with later. But she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a little fun. Or she’d let a man sit close and flirt with her. Or had sex.
She glanced at Ty from beneath her lashes and caught him watching her again. From the heat in his eyes, he’d picked up the gist of her thoughts. Now, awareness filled in the spaces between them. The tension added spice to her buzz. Neither one of them had a ring on their finger; they were both of age. Why not relax and enjoy the night?
The door opened again and five or six people tromped in, shouting hellos at others already there. Ty’s name rang out a few times. He waved, but didn’t encourage anyone to come closer. She was glad. She didn’t want to share him with anyone else.
“Tell me something else about yourself,” he said to her. “Where do you live when you’re not passing through?”
She caught her lip with her teeth, worrying it. The question felt personal, though she knew most people would put it in the same class as talk about the weather. But to Kari, it seemed like a gentle pulling back of layers to find what was inside. That worried her. Inside-Kari was nothing like the woman who sat beside him now. Inside-Kari was focused, determined, and very ambitious.
Ty raised his brows.
“I live in Arizona,” she finally said. “Downtown Phoenix. My balcony is right above the light rail station. I hear it dinging and clanging first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. But I don’t care. It reminds me that I have tracks, too.”
He leaned back, looking at her as she spoke. Listening to what she said. Not something attractive men in small-town bars usually did. Anywhere, for that matter. Usually, they had a phone in their hand and most of their focus on the screen.
Not this man, though. He made her feel like she had his undivided attention. Had, almost since the moment she’d sat down.
“Where do your tracks go?” he asked. The whiskey had added a soft rasp to his tone that was sexy as hell.
“Up,” she answered. “Up and away.”
“Huh,” he said. “Interesting trajectory for train tracks.”
“I’m all about the interesting.”
“I can see that.”
Silence fell over the bar as the song changed, a thick quiet heightened by Ty’s nearness, by her unexpected yearning to be closer still . . . by the answering gleam in his eyes. More people came into the bar, but neither Kari nor Ty looked their way this time.
Rocking Around the Christmas Tree suddenly blared out of the jukebox and made Kari jump. It ruined the smoky mood that had cocooned the two of them, here in this dark bar with the cold breath of winter misting the windows.
“God damn that woman,” Stan muttered
under his breath.
“I can hear you, Stan,” a female sitting far enough away that she couldn’t possibly have heard him, called out.
Kari looked at Ty. Ty moved closer and lowered his voice. “Stan and Marianne play this game every year. Stan’s not much for the Christmas spirit. Marianne never takes her tree down.”
Kari glanced over her shoulder so she could see the young, black-haired woman laughing with her friends.
“If you don’t quit cursing at me, Stan, I’m going to play another one,” the woman taunted loudly.
Stan looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. He flipped her the bird and went back to making drinks while everyone at Marianne’s table hooted with laughter.
“I think Stan secretly likes it,” Ty said, his lips close to her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.
He sat back and smiled again and Kari got lost in the heat of his gaze. Up close, the color of his eyes was more pewter than gray. A patina that came from adversity and maturity. There was something kindred in those eyes.
And that was not a good thing. She was here for business. Important business. Forgetting reality for a night—sure, she could roll with that. Anything deeper? Disaster. This town was a stepping stone for her, a bridge for her tracks to cross. Not a terminus. Not even a hub. When she left, she didn’t want to look back, either.
The thoughts were sobering, but Ty was so intoxicating it counteracted the effect and boosted the whiskey in her system. She felt capable. Bullet proof—perfectly equipped to handle whatever might come of this night with Ty the History Teacher.
He still faced her. She’d turned, and now her knees were between his spread thighs and she could feel the heat of them, framing hers. It would be so easy to lean forward, into him.
He shifted and his right arm came to rest on the bar, sleeve pushed back to reveal muscle and crisp, dark hair. His fingers grazed the soft angora of her sweater when he reached for his glass. The brief touch made her breath catch and her eyes meet his. Caught up in the subtle dance they’d begun, she turned her hand so it brushed against his bare skin. He was so warm and he smelled so good—soap and winter, fresh scents with notes of pine and rain mixed in. She wanted to press her nose to his throat and let those intangible scents take over.
“What about you?” she asked, her voice husky. She couldn’t even remember what they’d been talking about. “Have you always been a teacher?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling I guess.”
He gave her that slow smile again, and his left hand brushed the side of her knee. Just a touch, a fleeting caress. Glancing, yet somehow possessive. She felt it everywhere—the heat of it, the promise. There was no denying it. No pretending she wanted to.
“I went the corporate route for a while. Marketing. GM hired me right out of college. I hated Detroit, though. Jumped to Yahoo, loved San Francisco, but . . . .” He shrugged. “Wasn’t for me, all those long hours trying to crack some secret code—figure out the magic combination that would pay off. It felt pointless after a while.”
“What point were you trying to make?” she asked, completely taken by the matter-of-fact tone, mixed as it was with a slight note of confusion—as if he spoke of some stranger whose actions would forever remain a mystery.
Now, his smile had a shy quality that tipped her over the edge of charmed and smack into smitten. “I guess I wanted to make a difference. To someone. Maybe just to myself.”
Honesty, unadorned. It resonated within her, waking something that had been dormant for so long she didn’t even recognize it. Once upon a time, she’d cared about making a difference, too.
“So you decided to come home and be a teacher?” she asked.
He moved his head side to side. Not a nod, not a shake. “More or less. My dad lives here and I thought if I came back, we might reconnect.”
His tone had changed. She might have missed it if she hadn’t been paying attention. But Ty had become the center of her focus. His gaze dropped to his empty shot glass.
“And did you?” she asked carefully. “Connect?”
His lips quirked. “I liked it better when we were talking about you.”
“Am I getting too personal? I’m sorry. I can back off if . . . .”
He shook his head and leaned in. So did she, closer still. His breath was warm, and whiskey laden, soft against her skin.
“Don’t back off.”
And her lips almost felt the words.
“Okay.”
He touched her forehead with his for a moment and settled back on his stool. Hot and fluttery feeling, she did the same.
“No, we didn’t connect. Haven’t.” He shrugged. “Call it a work in progress.”
Curiosity piqued, she wanted to ask, Why not? But despite his words, she felt she traveled taboo lands and pushing wasn’t the way to go. Instead, she said, “What about your mom? Is she around?”
His smile became more natural, his body language more at ease.
“My mom lives on Maui and I see her a couple times a year. She’s married to a ukulele player.”
Surprised, Kari laughed. “Please tell me you know how to play one, too?”
“Only when I wear my grass skirt and hula dance.” She laughed again, and Ty grinned at her. “If you don’t make me talk about my parents anymore, I might show you later.”
Later.
Layered with nuance, the word became a promise that traveled like a current between them. She wanted later. The look Ty gave her said he did, too. The whiskey was still working its magic on her and she’d lost all track of time. While they’d sat and drank, winter night had rushed the windows, turning the view into silver and slate. She and Ty had been talking for hours.
Smiling, Ty took her hand in his, turning it so her palm was against his, fingertips to wrist. The sudden touch startled her. Made her heart thump against her ribs.
“I don’t see a ring,” he said, touching the third finger on her left hand. “No husband holding down the condo back in Phoenix?”
“No husband. No boyfriend. You?”
“No one.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t you mention something about a million men to every single female here?”
“Not exactly, but I don’t believe you haven’t been noticed anyway.”
“Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”
“Maybe there’s something wrong with both of us,” she answered, intending to sound light and witty. But something throbbed in her voice, betraying her.
Ty laced his fingers with hers and stood, holding her hand and gazing down at her with something undefinable in his eyes. Something she wanted to know, to feel. He stood close, his thighs against her knees, his head down, hers raised, their clasped hands between their bodies. His touch was deliberate. Unexpectedly straightforward. This was no casual caress that might or might not have been accidental. And they both knew it on a deep, sexual level that trumped banter and confidences. It was hard to breathe. Harder still to care as all of her attention narrowed down to his hand, holding hers.
“I think….” he began, but he seemed to get lost as he stared into her eyes.
Welcome to the club. She’d been lost from the start.
They stared at each other for an electrifying moment, and then he smiled. A sparkling, mischievous flash of amusement that upended her equilibrium.
Whatever he was thinking, she was in. She liked his wit, the wry glitter in his eyes, the sharp intelligence when he spoke. And running through it all was that deep, kindred feeling, rooting inside her, weakening her guard.
“Ty,” someone called from the room behind them. “Let the girl breathe. In fact, bring her over here so I can meet her, too.”
Still looking in her eyes, Ty asked, “What do you want to do, Kari? Pull up some chairs and meet the rest of the town? Or get out of here? Go for a walk, maybe have dinner. With me?”
“Yes,” she said. “The second one. With you.”
She lost herself in his gaze for another moment, drawn to him like the tides to the shore. Then something over her shoulder caught his attention and made him look around. He frowned. Kari looked, too, wondering what had put that expression on his face.
The bar had filled up with people. Now, every head was turned their way and Kari and Ty might as well have been standing on a stage.
“Why is everyone watching us?” she asked.
“It’s a small town and you’re the most exciting thing to walk through the door in . . . well, forever.”
“And if I leave with you….”
“Everyone will know.”
“Does that bother you?”
“I’m not the one trying to start a business here.”
And you are, a voice of reason tried to intercede on the side of sanity. She ignored it. This was a magical place and she didn’t have to be responsible Inside-Kari here.
“So you think I should…not come with you?” she asked a little wary.
He shook his head. “That’s pretty much the opposite of what I think. But it’s up to you. If you want to, you know, play it safe, go your own way. I’ll understand.”
His eyes glittered with the challenge, and she arched an eyebrow back.
“No,” she said softly. “That’s not what I want at all. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Two
It had been a long time since Ty Timberlake had picked up a woman in a bar. Anywhere, for that matter. In fact, he’d been flying solo for so long that he’d forgotten the thrill of meeting, of learning, someone new. The bone-deep excitement of wondering what might happen next, of trying to create a certain outcome. Like persuading this very beautiful woman to come away with him.
And she’d just said yes. She’d looked him in the eye, and she’d said, Yes.
She smiled now as she scooted off her barstool. Her soft blue-green sweater picked up the colors in her hazel eyes and made them glow like jewels. Snug jeans that hugged the curve of her hips were tucked into high heeled boots. The boots looked hard to walk in and wouldn’t last two weeks of winter here, but they did look good. Despite the drinks, she seemed steady on her feet. He felt steady, too. Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t all about the alcohol.
Holiday Heat: The Men of Starlight Bend Page 11
