She glanced down at her grubby self and shook her head. She’d kicked off her shoes hours ago and just had thick socks on her feet. Without her heels, she felt small, vulnerable.
“Okay,” Ty said. “Maybe dinner’s a bad idea. But I’m a little lost here. I don’t understand what happened, why you left like you did. Is it me? Something I said? Something I did? Say so if it is.”
Because that’s how things worked in his open, honest world.
“It’s not you, Ty. It’s me. I told you, as soon as the holidays are over, I’ll be moving on. Getting involved with you wouldn’t be fair.”
“So it’s my feelings we’re worried about?”
“Not just yours,” she said softly.
“You afraid you’re gonna fall head over heels for me and want to stay?”
Maybe.
Probably.
Okay, yes. And absolutely, she was afraid. She’d spent one night with him and hadn’t been the same since. What would she be after a week? Who would she be after month? And what if he changed his mind as soon as he realized she wasn’t the same girl he’d met in that bar, not on the inside?
“I just don’t want any hard feelings when I leave,” she said. Convincingly, too. “And that’s my plan. To leave. January eighth. It’s on my calendar.”
“Well, if it’s on your calendar . . . .” he said, smiling. “But you’re here now and by my count, we have what? Sixty? Seventy, long, cold nights before you go? Seems a shame to waste them.”
A smile curved his lips, but the look in his eyes . . . that was serious. He wanted her. He wanted to be with her. And he wanted it enough that he’d come looking for her when she’d run away. Only a fool wouldn’t be scared of that. He made her feel like she was on a rollercoaster, only there were no safety belts, no operator, no emergency Off switch. Just dizzying heights and plunging free falls.
But if she let him walk away . . . . She shook her head again. She didn’t even think she could let him walk away.
“There’s still a kitchen in the back,” she said. “Your dad even left the fridge and the table and chairs.”
He cocked his head, trying to follow those words to their source. “You feel like cooking?”
That made her smile. “I only cook for people I don’t like.”
His brows shot up. “So you do like me. Against your will—I can see that.”
And now she was laughing. This was such a bad idea.
“I was thinking we could order a pizza. I could be done with Joaquin—” She pointed at the mannequin on the floor, “—by the time it gets here.”
“Joaquin?”
“We’re friends. Don’t judge me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Pizza sounds like a great plan, but there’s no place that delivers in Starlight Bend. I could pick one up, though, while you and Joaquin finish your business. Bring it back. Maybe some wine, too?”
“I like all those words. I have a bottle of wine in the back, though. We could share it.”
“That works.”
Like a puppy, she followed him to the door, watched him turn the collar of his sheepskin lined jean jacket up and step into the freezing cold. The air here already smelled of winter, and she swore that Christmas music was always playing somewhere. Santa Baby drifted on the crisp air, even now.
Ty stopped and looked back at her. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said.
And then he was striding down the street, long legs, broad shoulders and perfect behind. Like the fool she was, Kari watched him until the shadows gobbled him up.
Chapter Six
In a daze, Kari dressed Joaquin, fighting stiff limbs and unbendable body parts to get pants, shirts and shoes on him, before manhandling the plastic hipster into the display window. She was out of breath and sweaty again by the time she finished. Ty would be back any minute now, and she probably smelled like she’d been herding cattle all day.
In addition to the kitchen, the shop had a small bathroom in the back. Nervous, excited, thrilled, she snagged a clean t-shirt from the stock and wasted no time washing up and doing what damage control she could with her limited supplies.
A glass of wine calmed her down a little. She was sipping, though. She wanted a clear head. No more poor choices if she could help it.
Problem was, she didn’t think she could.
The cow bell gonged a moment before Ty walked in again, pizza box balanced in his right hand, a six pack under his arm, and a bottle of wine gripped by the neck in his other hand. He set everything on the table, then paused, waiting until she looked at him.
“Second thoughts?” he asked.
She smiled, feeling unbelievably shy. “No.”
He shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of the chair, snagged a beer and opened the pizza box.
“In that case, I give you, Pizza Frank,” he said.
“Pizza Frank?”
Ty nodded sagely. “Trust me. He’s a genius.”
And once again, he turned on the charm, making her laugh. Making her feel funny, too. The pizza was amazing, but it paled compared to the company. All the hollow hurt that had filled her this past few days began to dissipate as she relaxed and enjoyed herself.
Her glass of wine was empty and she wanted another, but didn’t pour it and shook her head when Ty offered. He still nursed his first beer.
“So,” he said softly after they’d both finished. “This calendar of yours. It’s set in stone?”
“Kind of,” she said, wary. “Once we get through the launch of this store, I’ll be looking for the site of the next one.”
“Building an empire?”
“Not really. It’s more about proving I can turn straw into gold.”
His brows went up in surprise. “Okay. Why?”
She let out a deep breath. There was so many ways to answer that, but in the end, it really came down to her dad. “My father was an inventor. Everything he saw, every day of his life, he was thinking of how he could fix it. Make it better. More efficient. Some of his ideas were shit—I won’t kid you—but every once in a while, he’d come up with something genius.”
“Like?”
“eReaders.”
Ty looked shocked. “Your dad invented eReaders?”
“Yes. Does he hold the patent? No. His prototype is in a pile of junk somewhere, along with a hundred other prototypes—electric potato peelers and rotating shower heads. My personal favorite? Vibrating alarm clock pillows—the gentle waker-uppers.”
“What happened to those?”
“Eight out of ten people fell into a deeper sleep when the pillows started vibrating.”
“No shit?”
“Right? He had so many ideas that he couldn’t tell the good from the bad—hence the eReader tragedy. Before Sony, before Kindle, before all of them, he had a working model, but he threw it in the junk pile and moved on.”
“That’s still pretty impressive.”
“Sad, is more like it. Which is why I don’t want to follow in his footsteps.”
She fiddled with a piece of crust on her paper plate, not looking at him. She didn’t talk about her dad, hadn’t for years.
“What do you do instead?” he asked.
“I succeed,” she answered.
“Lucky you,” he said, totally at ease, which was precisely not how she was feeling, despite Pizza Frank and the glass of wine. Tension knotted her shoulders and she could feel her brow furrowing. She tried to smooth it out. She was not a fan of conversations about failure. Or a fan of anything about failure.
“Oh, I’ve had my share of false starts, too,” she said, brushing her hair back with her fingers. “But that’s because I take risks and stay focused. Believe it or not, this is one of the safer ventures.”
“What were the others?”
She gave him a wry smile and held up a finger. “First, there were Planterns.”
“What are they?”
“Flammable, as it turns out. Just like the trees they were suppos
ed to hang in. Thank God for insurance.”
He grinned, obviously picturing that debacle.
“Okay. What else?”
“I sold knockoff designer purses for a while. That was lucrative, but not sustainable. Too many customs issues, trying to get them in the country. Then the factory I was using burned down. I took it as a sign.”
“Stay away from fire?”
She stared at him, startled—not many people joked about burnt-out factories. She wasn’t sure how to react to it. It had been a monumental disaster, a crater in the middle of her road she almost hadn’t gotten around.
“It wasn’t funny,” she said indignantly.
“Sorry,” he answered, not looking sorry at all. In fact, he was having a hard time keeping the smile off his face.
“You don’t seem too shocked by all my failures,” she said, mystified.
“I’m shocked that you haven’t invested in fire extinguishers yet.”
This time, she laughed, too, and the tension flowed out of her. “Oh, trust me, I have. They’re strategically placed in every one of our stores, including this one, and my house. I even have one in the car.”
He was still grinning when he got up to throw their plates away.
“So after your purse business went up in flames?”
“It took me awhile, but I was able to sock away enough money to buy into this. This,” she said, gesturing at the store, “is working. It’s a slow return on investment, but it’s building. We’re so close to making it, I can feel it.”
“And then what?”
“We sell and move on.”
“To?”
“The next big thing, whatever it is. That’s how fortunes are made.”
He took his seat at the table again. “Why small town hardware stores, though? I mean, I get the connection to your brand, but it seems like you’re limiting your potential, moving into low population areas—even if the ratio of men to women is a trillion to one.”
She rolled her eyes at his exaggeration.
“Men’s fashion is a four-hundred-billion-dollar industry. To get a brand in Leimann’s, Nordstrom’s, or even a store like Kohl’s, there has to be a track record. We didn’t have the money to open up in multiple malls—which is what it would have taken to get noticed—but a small town like this? We could afford to start up right away. The competition is scarce and we’re the biggest fish in a tiny little pond. We’re pretty much the only fish.”
“The only fish, without a lot of fish food.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” she said, warming to the subject, forgetting for the moment that he didn’t know this calculating, unsexy side of her. “There’s also the element of exclusivity. You can’t just buy our products anywhere.”
“And that’s a good thing? You’re not online?”
“Not yet. We need to build a demand first. People want what they can’t have. The harder it is to get, the more they want it.”
“And the more they’ll pay to get it. Smart,” he said, and she felt a warm flush at his approval. “So how are you going to accelerate that return on investment?”
“This is the fifth store. The others are turning a marginal profit, but we need a splash. Something that puts us on the radar and draws in a major buyer. It could be this store—or it might be the next one. But like I said, we’re close. I feel it in my gut.”
“And this splash? How are you going to make that happen?”
She puffed out some air and shook her head. “I’m working on it.”
And by working on it, she meant trying frantically to figure out something that would break them out of the pack. Searching out the trendiest fashions, always pushing the envelope on what they stocked. Staying in touch with designers and buyers overseas, while at the same time, mining sites like Etsy for that new, undiscovered “voice” that would define what men wore tomorrow. That’s where they found the designers who were as hungry to be discovered as Kari and Simone were to make it big.
“And that’s what it’s all about for you? Cashing out and moving on?”
When he said it, this golden dream that had kept her going sounded very tarnished. Hollow. At the same time, cashing out and moving on was liberating. Cleansing in a way he’d probably never understand.
“It is right now,” she answered, not meeting his eyes.
He nodded, contemplative as he toyed with his beer bottle, saying nothing. She wanted to ask about his past—his marketing jobs that he’d walked away from, but she’d already shared too much with him and those confidences felt like vines, wrapping around her. Learning more about this man who already intrigued her so much would only make them bind tighter.
She stood and began cleaning up. Silently, he rose to help, loading her refrigerator with the beer he’d brought, but hadn’t drank, and the last few pieces of pizza. They’d be good for lunch tomorrow. Maybe even breakfast.
She was rinsing her wine glass in the sink when he came up behind her. “So what happens now, Kari with a K? You going to spend the next couple of months pretending I don’t exist?”
“That would be easiest.”
“Would it?”
She shrugged, keeping her back turned. Afraid of what she might see in his eyes if she faced him. Afraid of what he might see in hers. It wasn’t her way to ignore an issue, and running from this man had only twisted her up inside. Doing it again made even less sense.
“What do you have in mind, Ty the History Teacher?” she asked softly.
She couldn’t see him smile, not when he stood behind her. But she felt it, right down to her toes.
“Cards on the table?” he said in a low voice. “I like you. You’re a breath of fresh air. I want to spend some time with you before you move on to that big future of yours. I’m not looking for a woman to make me dinner and babies, Kari. Hell, I wasn’t looking at all.”
“Yeah, I got that when you waited five days to even see if I was still alive.”
It was a tactical error, one that he obviously picked up on right away. He swung around and leaned against the counter beside her so he could see her face . . . so she could see his. A slow smile—the same one that had shimmied her right off her barstool the night she’d met him—spread across his face.
“Have you been waiting for me?” he asked.
“No.”
“Counting the hours since the last time we kissed?” he teased.
Hours, minutes . . . he had no idea.
“No,” she whispered again.
One small step, that’s all he needed to take, but instead, he leaned in, so close she could feel his heat. Still not touching, though. Damn him.
“Liar,” he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.
And she wanted more. A lot more. She wanted him to pull her to him. Take her right there on the Formica table.
He straightened and reached for his jacket. “I should be going.”
“You should?”
“I’ve said my piece. Ball’s in your court, now.”
He shrugged into his coat, leaned down and gave her a soft, slow kiss.
“Drive careful going home.”
“But . . . wait. What ball? I don’t even have your number.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve had it since hello.”
Wasn’t that a line from a movie? Her face was hot and a panicky feeling started deep in her belly. She liked the ball better in his court.
He said, “You want me, come find me. Doesn’t matter when, doesn’t where.”
“But . . . .”
“You know where I live, you know where I work. It’s not that hard to track me down.” He paused and held her gaze. “If that’s what you want.”
And then he was gone. Kari still hadn’t moved when she heard the door open and the cowbell gong. In fact, she’d even forgotten to breathe.
Chapter Seven
The next morning was a blur of last minute details, and Kari didn’t have time to even think.
Yet somehow Ty ne
ver left her mind. In fact, he plagued her to distraction.
You want me, come find me . . .
At once a challenge and an appeal. She couldn’t resist either one.
The Grand Opening of HardWear was scheduled for Friday, the day after tomorrow. Simone had placed sale ads in the local paper—which as near as Kari could tell was more like a flyer. They’d put signs all around town and sent announcement postcards to a purchased mail list of all residents within a hundred miles of Starlight Bend. The company website was updated, press releases completed, though to date, the media hadn’t really cared about anything they did. In short, they were as ready as they’d ever be.
“I don’t know about you,” Simone said, “But I’m going to drive into Kalispell, check into the most expensive hotel I can find and order some food and a bottle of wine from room service. I’m spending the whole day at the spa tomorrow. Want to join me?”
Kari shook her head. “I don’t think so. I want to explore Starlight Bend a bit. I haven’t seen many of the sights since I’ve been here.”
“You’ve seen the bar, you’ve seen the lake. There’s not much more to it.”
“You know that’s not true. Every one of these towns we’ve been to has had something cool to see. Who knows, I might even go for a hike tomorrow.”
“How are we friends?” Simone asked with a shudder as she pulled on her very expensive cashmere coat.
Simone came from money. The launch of their company was an experiment for her, not her livelihood. For Kari, the scenario was quite a bit different. This chain of stores would be the bedrock of her career . . . or the gravestone, depending on the outcome.
“Have fun at the spa,” she said.
“Don’t fall off a mountain,” Simone answered.
Mountains were the least of her concerns. And of course, the only sights she was interested in could be found on tall, dark and handsome Ty Timberlake. He’d said the ball was in her court and it had been bouncing around inside her, causing all manner of mayhem.
Now, she was in the exact situation she’d tried so hard to avoid. Entangled. With a man she already liked way too much. But winter was in the air and there was something magical about this little town of Starlight Bend. Twice today, she caught herself singing Christmas carols. The holidays were almost here and wouldn’t it be nice, for the first time since her parents had died, to spend them with someone special?
Holiday Heat: The Men of Starlight Bend Page 14
