He caught her lips in a kiss that silenced them both and before long, he’d chased away even the thought of leaving. For now.
Chapter Eleven
The weeks flew by. During the days, Kari was busy at the store. Customers had come when the doors opened—Ty had been their first and he’d let her outfit him from head to toe. He’d looked damn good, too. But in general, business was sluggish and their revenue alarmingly low. So far, this store had the poorest Grand Opening of any of the other four. If not for the nights she spent with Ty, Kari might have worried herself into an early grave.
But when he had her in his arms, Ty refused to let her stay in her head and obsess over the dollar signs. Not that she had much of choice, once he started touching her. She’d expected her attraction to him to wane over time. She couldn’t have been more wrong. He seemed to feel the same—hopelessly addicted to her touch, the feel of her body next to his. Some dark, self-destructive part of her began to think he might be happy about her failure. He’d made it clear that he wanted to her to stay here. With him.
As each day passed, the idea of staying grew in appeal until Kari wasn’t certain why she was fighting it. But Ty could never understand what drove her to achieve. He hadn’t seen the way failure had broken her father down, had turned her mother into a shrew, had embarrassed Kari until she’d quit bringing her friends home. Quit telling them that her father invented things. In the end, she’d been ashamed of him. Worse, he’d known it.
Failing at this—a different kind of invention—it just couldn’t happen. Not to her.
She was surprised, therefore, when Ty walked in the Monday before Thanksgiving and said, “Got a minute?”
“Sure,” she answered. She had plenty of minutes, maybe hours before the next customer came in.
He was dressed in the jeans and button down she’d picked out for him and she couldn’t help the rush of possessive pride she felt when she saw just how good he looked in them.
“I have an idea that I think will help you,” Ty said.
“Help me what?” she asked.
“Generate some revenue, for one. The hockey team has their last game of the season tomorrow night. It’s a home game, so they have to wear their best to school tomorrow.”
She had a vague memory of high school sports and seeing all the jocks show up in ties on game day.
“How is that a revenue generating idea?” she asked, frowning.
“Instead of wasting any more money on a marketing plan that clearly isn’t working, why don’t you try living ads?”
Miffed at how blunt he was, she said, “Human words, please.”
“I’ve been wearing your clothes to school every day. And I know I look good.”
Said with an earnest expression, completely lacking in ego. The credit was all hers, that look said. She felt unreasonably sappy as she stared at him, wanting to hug him, maybe even cry a little.
“But I’m an old guy to your demographic. They can think I look good all they want, but they won’t be able to picture it for themselves unless they see it on themselves. Why not dress up my hockey team—the gods of Starlight Bend High—and let them do the marketing for you.”
She blinked at him for a moment while the image formed in her head, twenty-two sturdy young men played for Ty. He told her as much before. They came from different families, different parts of town. They were a diverse pool, products of the American melting pot. And dressed in the HardWear brand of clothes, they would look stunning.
It was a good idea. It was a great idea, actually.
“Simone,” she called, never looking away from Ty’s face. His eyes had a sparkle of excitement and his smile . . . it was just for her.
Simone emerged from the backroom with a napkin in one hand and a bite of her sandwich in the other. Kari turned to Ty. “Tell her what you just said.”
Simone wore the same stunned expression as Kari by the time Ty finished. It was such a simple, elegant plan. And she absolutely believed it would have impact.
“They’d be wearing them tomorrow?”
“If I tell them they have the choice of wearing their father’s hand-me-down ties or coming here for some free clothes, they’ll take the clothes. And they’ll wear them.”
Simone looked at Kari. “What do you say?”
“What we’re doing isn’t working. This is the best idea I’ve heard in a long time.”
“Okay then. Let’s do it.”
Kari grinned at Ty and nodded. “Send them over, Mr. T.”
“They’ll be here before you close.”
Simone thanked him and went back to her lunch. Kari wrapped her arms around him and thanked him quite a bit more.
“My pleasure,” Ty said. “Those wheels grinding in your head have been keeping me awake at night.”
“Sorry about that.”
He shook his head. “No need. I know how important it is for you to succeed here. Get your ticket punched.”
Move on . . .
Away from him.
“Doesn’t that go against the grain?” she asked, her voice low and serious. “Helping me when you know what it will lead to?”
He cupped her face and kissed the tip of her nose. “Sweetheart, what happens here, to your business? That’s not going to be the reason you go or stay. Don’t tell me you think it is.”
She stared into his eyes. She wanted to tell him he was wrong—that her business was the dime that everything turned on. Maybe it had been when she first arrived, but since she’d met Ty, things had changed. She’d changed. Every other town, every other venture, she’d only seen as a means to an end. A jumping off point to the next Big Idea in the next town. Settling anywhere had felt like going backwards—something she couldn’t do. But her emotions had been at odds with her ambition for weeks now. A lot of it was Ty and how important he’d become to her. But part of it went deeper. Starlight Bend was filled with community—something she’d never had in her life. It had skewed her perspective on how this life of hers should be lived. Going so fast that she never stopped to appreciate a dawning day or crisp evening—was that really living? Did it matter what she achieved if she never took the time to enjoy it?
He smiled at her and shook his head. “I don’t want you by default, anyway,” he said. “Either you choose me, or you don’t. I’ve already made my decisions.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders, lifted her off her feet, and planted a kiss on her that made her toes curl with delight. When he set her down again, he said, “Figure things out, Kari. We’re running out of time.”
Chapter Twelve
Dressing the hockey team had been a brilliant idea and it worked like a charm. The team even won their home game, and Kari and Simone had been there to watch it. The very next day, business took a turn for the better. Customers were waiting for them to open their doors in the morning, and by the time they closed shop that night, Kari was filled with hope for record sales on Black Friday.
The week before, Ty had invited her to Thanksgiving dinner at his house. He and a group of friends had been rotating host duties for years. Kari hadn’t been to a Thanksgiving dinner since her parents died and was inexplicably nervous about joining people she hardly knew for such an important day. It seemed like a lot of work for little reward and it always made her bittersweet. Too much family time for someone who no longer had any family. But Ty wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“This is our fourth year and it’s my turn to host.”
“And you’re inviting me because you think I’ll help cook?” she asked incredulously.
“Hell, no. I know how to put a turkey in the oven. Everything else is potluck. You can bring pie. Doesn’t even have to be homemade.”
“Oh, believe me, it won’t be. What about your dad?” she asked. “Do you invite him to join your little celebration?”
“I did. The first year. He told me to stuff my turkey where the sun doesn’t shine.”
“Ouch.”
“I told him the invi
tation was always open. He told me to put my open invitation in the same place.”
“I’m sorry, Ty.”
“It’s nothing I haven’t heard before, sweetheart.”
“So if he doesn’t spend it with you, who does he spend it with?”
“Last I heard, Becky Smith had taken him under her wing.”
Becky from the café? “Lucky Henry. I’ll be buying my pies from her, just in case you were wondering.”
“I knew I could count on you. Last year one of the teachers brought the pies. She made them herself.”
He grimaced and Kari laughed.
“I’m not surprised about Becky, though,” she said. “I thought there was a vibe between them the last time I went for my morning coffee.”
Ty looked amazed. “What kind of vibe?”
“The kind that gets a guy a seat at Thanksgiving dinner. I’m glad he’s not spending it alone.”
“Yeah, I’m glad, too.”
And in his voice, she heard the other note. The sadness that he and his father would be at separate tables, in separate houses. Never together.
When she arrived on Thanksgiving Day, Ty opened the front door with an apron around his waist and a smile on his face. He didn’t wait to pull her in for a kiss that she felt deep inside.
That morning, she’d marked another day off her calendar, feeling like her departure date had become a predator that stalked her. That threatened to take away the happiness that she’d felt since coming here.
For weeks now, she’d been telling herself that a long distance relationship could work. She’d even convinced herself that she could talk Ty into it, too. Since she’d met him, Ty had somehow managed to steal the core of her, the very heart. If he didn’t come with her, would he give it back when she left? Or would she be forever missing that piece of herself? Wasn’t that what she’d been afraid of from the start? The reason why she’d bolted the morning after?
“You look like you need some wine,” someone said from inside Ty’s house.
In moments, she was pulled into their warm and friendly circle. Ty was a laid-back host who had plenty of wine and beer to go with all the food everyone brought. Before long, they progressed from stilted introductions to hilarious stories about growing up in Starlight Bend, getting in trouble in a town where everyone knew your parents. She enjoyed the company and yet, at the same time, she became increasingly aware of how little she had in common with these people. With this town. They had roots sunk so deep, their parents had shared childhood memories. Kari had been transient her entire life, moving from new start to new start with her mom and dad, until they’d hit the dead-end of Dunlap, New Mexico, where they’d left her to survive on her own. She’d never stayed in one place long enough to fit in.
She wouldn’t be here long enough, either.
It was with relief that she finally stood to leave. “Tomorrow’s Black Friday,” she told Ty’s friends when they protested. “We open at seven and don’t close until ten. It’s going to be a long day.”
Ty walked her to her car, a cautious light in his eyes. “You don’t want to stay tonight?” he asked.
“I do, but I have to be up early and . . . .”
He cocked his head to the side, watching her. She had the feeling that he knew what was going on inside her head.
He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She met the kiss hungrily, needing him to chase away the shadows inside her. She held him tight and lost herself in all the good that was Ty Timberlake.
When he finally lifted his head, his eyes held a satisfied gleam. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” he said against her lips.
And even though the voice of sanity told her it was wrong to say yes, to encourage him when there was no future for them, Kari heard herself agree. “See you tomorrow night.”
Her house felt empty when she got home. No surprise, there. That was how she liked things. Quiet, orderly. Temporary. It was easier that way. She could leave when she wanted to without looking back. She had a plan, one she’d honed to perfection. Unlike her father, she would see the fruits of her labor. She would find that shimmery success that had always eluded him. And she would seize it with both hands.
She couldn’t do that if she was looking over her shoulder. If she was missing what she’d left behind. Success required clarity and purpose.
Not an aching heart. Not regret.
She stared at the calendar on her wall. Forty more nights. That’s all the time she had left here. Mentally, she braced herself and nodded.
Forty nights and she’d be gone.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day was so busy that by the time Kari looked up, it was nearly eleven p.m. She’d missed dinner. She may have missed lunch, too. She couldn’t remember. There’d been so many shoppers, so many credit cards handed over from mothers who’d come as far as Billings, Boise, even Alberta. Their sons wanted clothes like the Starlight Bend hockey players wore. They’d seen Ty’s “living ads” in person or on Snapchat, Instagram, or Facebook. Or they’d simply heard from a friend of a friend. If she could have kissed every boy on the hockey team, she would have.
Ty had called around seven and she’d told him not to count on seeing her that night. He was understanding, and yet there’d been a dark note in his voice when he’d said goodbye. She couldn’t help but think that maybe he’d been staring at a calendar, too.
And not in a good way. It was something to think about later, when she had the time.
But later seemed to be an elusive horizon that never came. Because the next day was just as busy, a continuous blur of shoppers and Christmas music from the playlist Simone had made. Even after they turned it off, Kari could still hear it in her head. And the day after? Busier still. During a rare lull on Sunday, Simone told her to take five.
“You haven’t had a break all day. Go, before they start coming back.”
Afraid if she sat down she’d never stand up again, Kari took the break, hoping a caffeine pick-me-up would get her through the rest of the night. She was filling up the coffee pot when she felt him behind her. Big, warm, and smelling so good she almost groaned.
His hands slid up her hips, one slipping down, over her belly to cup her sex, the other moving high to her breast.
“Ty,” she breathed. “What are you doing here?”
He pressed his hips into her, letting her feel the hard length of him. Letting her work out what he was doing on her own.
“We can’t. Simone might….”
He pressed again, a slow grind that spoke to every neglected nerve in her body. God, she’d missed him. It had only been three days since she’d seem him, but it felt like forever.
Slowly, she turned in his arms, her gaze finding his as he shifted his hands, keeping her in his grasp. He stared down at her with hooded eyes but she saw the fires burning there, the edge of need that was as sharp as a blade.
Silently, he inched the hem of her skirt up her thighs, then slipped his hands under, against her skin. She loved his hands—they were big, like everything about him, and roughened. Man’s hands. All over her.
His thumbs hooked in her panties and began working them down. Right there, in the tiny back room kitchen while Blue Christmas played in the store.
“Ty—”
“Shhhhh,” he said against her lips.
And she shushed. Because now his fingers were inside her and the ability to speak . . . think . . . breathe . . . it was all too difficult. She didn’t protest when he lifted her, spun around and set her on the table, just like in her fantasies. Her fingers were there first when he reached for his fly, working the buttons free, finding him ready, satin over steel. The moan in her throat was primal and it sparked an already smoldering fire.
Her head fell back when he finally entered her, hot and hard and demanding. They covered each other’s mouths as he drove deeper, pushing her to an edge she needed. Deep, in places that had never held such irresistible cravings. Her muffled cry escaped his fingers.
His groan made her come again. She didn’t care if Simone walked in on them. She wouldn’t have cared if they’d been stripped bare in the middle of Main Street. The power of his touch had become more important than anything else. Her body rejoiced and he rejuvenated her, mind and soul. It shouldn’t be possible, the effect he had on her. Yet, denying it was pointless.
Afterwards, he helped her straighten her clothes and stand. Her legs felt wobbly, but everything else felt wonderful. He caught her lips in a long, slow kiss.
“I’ll let you get back to work now. Just wanted you to know I’ve been missing you.”
With a wicked smile, he left her in the tiny backroom kitchen, but it took her a long time before she was ready to get back to work.
Chapter Fourteen
In Starlight Bend, Christmas was a state of being. The people who lived here were friendly all the time, but now, with snowflakes falling and chestnuts roasting, carolers dressed in long dresses with fur muffs, the season had taken hold and worked its magic, even on Kari. Every sale was accompanied with a “Merry Christmas,” every glance had a smile. The café buzzed with talk of a Winter Carnival and Wish Tree giving. Kari tried not to get too caught up in it, but good cheer was a contagious disease, it seemed.
Still, in quiet moments Kari found herself looking inward and finding only worries.
Out of necessity, she and Simone hired four additional sales clerks and ordered a surplus of stock, because they’d completely sold out of several styles of jeans and at least five of the shirts. And when Kari finally had the chance to check in with their other stores, she learned that sales were up there, too. Significantly, so. The fuse they’d lit five years ago had finally reached the gunpowder. The HardWear brand was about to explode in all the right ways.
It was a dream come true. Everything she’d worked so hard for was happening now, so fast she could hardly catch her breath. She should be skipping in the streets, belting out Christmas songs with the carolers. Instead, she wanted to slam on the brakes.
Holiday Heat: The Men of Starlight Bend Page 17
