What I Love About You (Truly, Idaho)

by Rachel Gibson

  The bell over the door rang, and she looked up as the source of all those hot shivers strolled in wearing a gray and white flannel shirt tucked into those jeans with the interesting button fly. The door swung shut behind him, and he pulled a pair of dark sunglasses from his face. His gray gaze met hers, and all the bits and pieces of her memory flooded in on her at once. The memory of his lips on hers and his long, deep kiss made her cheeks flush like a girl’s. Embarrassed, she broke eye contact. She lowered her gaze to his squirrel picture, and . . . Crap! She’d been caught snooping through Blake’s pictures, and he was too close not to notice. “Are you here for your prints?” she asked the obvious, trying to act all natural like snooping was a service she provided for her customers.

  “Yeah.” He stopped on the other side of the counter as she scooped up his prints. “You about done being nosy?”

  “I was just checking to make sure the printer stayed on line. It’s called quality assurance.”

  “Uh-huh.” He pointed at the photos with his glasses, then shoved them on top of his head. “More like you’re checking for dick pictures.”

  Her mouth fell open. That had not occurred to her. Now it did though. Had he sent in a penis pic? Was it beneath his Sparky and squirrel photos?

  “No,” he answered as if he’d read her mind, and planted his hands on the counter. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up his thick forearms. “I don’t need to take a shot of my package to get a woman’s attention.”

  A piece of her memory fell into place like a missing shard and was embedded with the recollection of his “package” pressed against her. She shoved the prints into a photo envelope and wished she could shove aside the memory of his big erection shoved up against her crotch. “Charlotte told me Sparky chewed up your leather sofa,” she said, changing the subject.

  Blake frowned. “Down to the wood.” He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “His chew toy was on top of the stuffing like a cherry on a cake.”

  “He got one of my blue suede pumps.” She rang up his photos and he swiped his American Express black card. She thought only rappers and rock stars had black cards, which made her again wonder what the man did for a living.

  “I finished the mailers, Natalie,” Brandy said behind her. Natalie turned and introduced her new employee to Blake. Brandy blushed and stared at a spot on the counter. Natalie knew how she felt. Blake Junger was the biggest and best-looking thing to hit this town in years.

  “How many Horcruxes have you created?” Blake asked as he put his card back in his wallet.

  Horcruxes? Natalie looked from one to the other. What was a Horcrux?

  “One,” Brandy answered.

  “Let me guess. Your cat.”

  “No!” She glanced up. “I would never hurt Pixel.” A shy smile tilted her lips. “My car.”

  “You have an evil car?” Blake chuckled.

  Brandy nodded, and Natalie had to ask, “What is a Horcrux?”

  Her employee looked at her through her glasses like she was surprised Natalie didn’t know. “An object where a witch or wizard hides a part of their soul so they can live forever. It’s evil.”

  What?

  “It’s from Harry Potter,” she explained further, and Natalie felt like she had a big arrow above her head, pointing to the only person on the planet who hadn’t read the books. But evidently Blake had read Harry Potter and knew about Horcruxes. He was just full of surprises.

  He shoved his wallet into his back pocket, then turned his gaze to Natalie. “Do you have a few minutes? We need to talk.”

  No doubt he wanted to talk about Saturday night, and that was the last thing she wanted to discuss with him. She just didn’t want any more of the blanks filled in. “I’m kind of busy.”

  “It’s about Charlotte.”

  “Oh.” That threw her a bit, and she turned to Brandy. “Do you think you’ll be okay if a customer comes in?”

  Brandy nodded and looked so earnest, Natalie felt comfortable leaving her for a few moments. She led Blake to her office and left the door open just a crack. “Did Charlotte do something?”

  “No.”

  Charlotte was usually such a good girl, it was hard for Natalie to imagine that she’d done something so horrible it warranted a conversation behind closed doors. She sat on the edge of her desk stacked with stray photo paper and invoices, and she folded her arms under her breasts.

  “She knows her dad is getting out of prison.”

  Her arms fell to her sides and her heart skipped a painful beat. “How?”

  “She told me she overheard her grandparents talking about it.”

  She’d told him? “When did she tell you all this?”

  “Sunday. By your mailbox.”

  Natalie lowered her gaze to the buttons closing the flannel shirt over his big chest. A myriad of emotions tumbled and twisted in her stomach. Among them anger that the Coopers hadn’t been more careful, and Natalie wasn’t so sure Charlotte hadn’t been meant to overhear them. The Coopers were good to her and Charlotte, but sometimes they did an end-run around her. “What else did she say?”

  “That you don’t know he’s getting out because you would have told her.”

  “Crap.” She raised her gaze to his eyes. “I didn’t tell because the last time he said he was getting out, he didn’t.” How was she going to tell her child that she’d known about her father but hadn’t told her? What could she say? God, she hated Michael. “I try really hard to never lie to that child. I sometimes might leave things out that might scare her, but I don’t lie. Never. And now she’ll think she can’t trust me to tell her the truth.”

  “Everyone lies just a little.”

  She shook her head and looked into his face. “I don’t lie, Blake. I hate lies and liars. Lies ruin lives.” She rubbed her forehead and closed her eyes. “Did she say anything else?”

  “She’s scared that she won’t like him.”

  “She doesn’t know enough about him not to like him.” She stood and turned to her desk. “She talks to him sometimes on the phone when she visits the Coopers, but she’s never met him in person.” Her hands shook as she reached for the invoices on her desk. “Maybe she’s overheard me and Lilah talk about him.” She spoke her thoughts out loud. “Or maybe me and my mom. God knows what I might have said throughout the years.”

  “I think she’s afraid she might have to live with him.”

  Natalie spun around and dropped the papers at her feet. “That will never happen.” It was just like Michael to think the world still revolved around him. “He didn’t want Charlotte.” She felt her temper rise, and she didn’t bother to contain it. “I tried for five years to conceive that child. Five years, and the day after I told him I was finally pregnant, he skipped town with his twenty-year-old girlfriend and several million dollars of investors’ money. He was planning to start a new life in Sweden or Switzerland . . . or wherever!” She raised a hand and dropped it to her side. “If he hadn’t gotten caught, I never would have known if he was dead or alive. His own parents wouldn’t have known!” She let out a breath and shook her head. “I wish he hadn’t gotten caught. I wish he’d gotten away. I wish he’d frozen to death in the Alps. I wish his prison bus had caught on fire on the way to the big house. I wish he’d gotten shanked!” She covered her mouth with her hands. Okay, she shouldn’t have let that last wish out for anyone but Lilah to hear. Lilah understood. She dropped her hands to her side and glanced up at him. He looked more amused than horrified by her bloodthirsty outburst. “Sorry to vent. I’m done. It’s just that I hate him for what he did.” She swallowed past the dry rage clogging her throat. “The last time I talked to him on the phone, he said he wants to see a lot of Charlotte and me.” She guessed she wasn’t quite done venting yet and felt it pressing in on her like a black fog. “He asked me to think about working on our relationship.” S
he held up quote fingers. “ ‘For Charlotte’s sake.’ ”

  She didn’t love Michael anymore, and she certainly didn’t trust anything that came out of his lying mouth. “That will never happen, either. He doesn’t really want to be a family. It’s just a con. Plain and simple. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Probably not all.”

  God, was Blake like everyone else and thought Michael deserved a second chance?

  “I imagine he wants to get laid.”

  She stared at him without saying anything, but her eyes spoke for her.

  “Hey.” He held up both hands. “The guy’s just getting out of prison. It’s a given he wants to get laid.”

  She frowned. “Then he should probably hire a hooker. I’m not the young girl he dated in high school or the naive wife he married and dumped.” She took a few short breaths and stared at the bump of his Adam’s apple above his plaid collar. “It’s not like he went to war for the past five years or got stranded on a desert island. He’s been in prison for stealing retirement money from old people, but everyone around this town is acting like they can’t wait to welcome him back. Michael Cooper, star quarterback and all-around good guy. I can understand why his parents forgive him. But everyone else?”

  His touch under her chin brought her attention back to his cool gaze. “Breathe or you’re going to pass out.”

  She shook her head, and the tips of his fingers brushed her skin. “I never passed out.”

  He tapped a finger on the tip of her chin, then dropped his hand. “Humor me and take a few deep breaths.”

  She did and felt the fog clear a bit.

  “Are you afraid of your ex?”

  She was afraid he’d charm her daughter’s susceptible heart. “I’m afraid he’ll try and take Charlotte from me.”

  The cool in Blake’s gray eyes turned frosty. “When the lead starts to fly, I’m a good man to have around.”

  Lead? Did he mean bullets? “I don’t think Michael will shoot me. I hate him but I would never kill him.” She’d just admitted that she wanted Michael dead, and she paused for half a second to collect her scattered thoughts. “No. Really. I mean . . . I’d get caught. The ex-wife is always the first suspect. Just last week, a lady in California was arrested for hiring a hit man she met in a bar. The hit man got caught and turned on the woman.” She shook her head with disgust. “There’s no honor among assassins.”

  “Never look for a hit man in a bar, Sweet Cheeks.” He took her hand and dipped his face to look into hers. “Professional contractors don’t get work out of a bar.”

  Natalie’s eyes widened. Professional contractors? “Are you a hit man?” She probably shouldn’t have just come out and asked that out loud, but it made sense. He didn’t work nine to five but had money.

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  She opened her mouth but nothing came out. Was he a hit man? A soldier of fortune?

  He chuckled, and humor lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. “No. I’m not a hit man. I am a professional security contractor.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I’m a retired Navy SEAL, special operator first class, with a toolkit full of skills. Private military companies pay me a lot of money to use those skills.”

  “Is it legal?”

  “Yes.” He grinned and pulled her against his chest. “Mostly.” He slid one arm across the small of her back.

  Her hand found his shoulder as she fell against his flannel shirt and wall of muscles. She had more questions about his skills and exactly what that meant, but she suddenly couldn’t think beyond the heat rolling off him like a radiator and warming up her breasts and belly.

  “I’m on my way out of town.” He pulled her onto the balls of her feet so her nose was level with his. His eyes a soft, sexy gray. “I stopped by to let you know so you don’t bitch me out like last time.”

  Inside her crammed office, everything pressed in on her until there was only he. His eyes shone a seductive gray and his big hand slid to her butt. “What are you doing?” came out on a shocked breath.

  “I got skills. Skills the military didn’t teach me. Skills I’ve learned all on my own.” He lowered his face to hers and his lips brushed hers when he said, “You’re going to love the skills in my own personal toolbox.”

  She should push him away. They were in her office. Really she should, but his lips brushed hers, teasing her with warm touches, and the memory of deeper kisses. Bits and pieces of hot kisses, and she decided to wait a minute. One minute to determine if the memory of his kiss was as good as she remembered or just her drunken imagination. She tilted her face to the right and tested her recall. He smelled good, like soap and skin and cool breezes, and he tasted better. Like warm mouth and hot sex. Yes, she remembered that part.

  One minute of light, chasing kisses turned into two. She told herself it was just kisses. Nothing more, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The moment she ran her finger through his short hair, the air inside the office turned carnal and possessive. Her tongue touched his, and he tasted so good she didn’t give another thought to stopping.

  Against his solid chest and soft flannel, her breasts felt heavy and her nipples tightened to hard, aching points. He fed her hungry mouth with deep, soul-sweeping kisses, and she ate them up. Hot threads of fire ran through her veins and pooled low in her abdomen. Low where her thighs met, and she squeezed her legs together against the onslaught of sensation. Sensation that wanted him to slide his warm hand from the curve of her backside and slip it between her thighs. Hot, liquid sensation that made her forget she stood in the office of Glamour Snaps and Prints, and a mere cracked-open door separated her from the rest of her business.

  Then he tilted his head to the side and deepened the kiss, and she wanted even more. He forced her to take a few steps back, and he lifted her. Her backside hit the top of the desk and he moved between her parted thighs. The pockets of his gray cargo pants brushing the inside of her legs.

  The tips of his fingers brushed her collarbone and slid to the top button of her shirt. She held on to his shoulders, and her lips clung to his as every breath filled with sensuous longing. The kind she’d let herself forget as she’d fought to survive.

  His shoulders were so solid beneath her touch. Solid and warm and so powerful, she arched her back toward the heat of his chest. His fingers teased her skin and brushed her cleavage as he worked each button from its hole. Then his big hand slid inside and she moaned deep in her throat. Deep down in the primal part that wanted and lusted. The part that needed pleasure. He cupped her breast, weighing her in his hot palm, and his mouth kissed the side of her throat, leaving a moist little path just below her ear. Shivers ran down her spine to her bottom, and his thumb brushed her nipple, back and forth through the thin nylon of her bra.

  “Your skin tastes sweet,” he whispered against the patch of her neck he’d wet with his mouth. “You smell good. God, I want you so much I’m about to explode.”

  “Yes.” A warning bell rang in her head and she shut it out.

  “Take me out.” He lightly bit her just below her ear. “Take me in your hand.”

  “Mmm.” She slid her palm from his shoulder and down his chest. His muscles bunched beneath her touch. His breath brushed the side of her neck, rapid and heavy, then caught and held in anticipation of her touch.

  The warning bell rang again and Natalie’s fingers curled around his belt buckle. Something wasn’t right. The bell sounded a lot like the service bell at the front counter. It rang again, and everything in her stilled. The noise beyond her office reached her foggy head and she heard Brandy’s voice and a deep male response.

  “Stop,” Natalie whispered, and pushed at Blake’s shoulders. “Someone is out front.”

  “So.” His hand on her breast tightened. Not painful but not like he wanted to let g
o, either.

  “We can’t do this here.”

  “Yes we can.”

  “No.” She pushed him and he dropped his hand.

  “Great.” He moved back far enough for her to stand. “We’ll go to my house. I have an hour if we hurry.”

  “I have a business. I’m a mother.” Her fingers shook as she buttoned her blouse. “I don’t do this sort of thing.”

  “You didn’t do anything. Yet.”

  “I’m not going to, either.” She glanced up into his eyes, all stormy now beneath his lusty lids. He was so handsome and she was so tempted to go to his house and fall in bed for an hour. “Ever,” she added for emphasis, more to herself than Blake.

  He took a deep breath, and he looked like he wanted to hit something. Instead he pointed at her. “Then don’t come near me, Natalie Cooper. ’Cause I can guaran-goddamn-tee the next time I’m not stopping. I don’t care if you’re drunk or standing in the middle of Main Street.” He yanked the door open. “You’re getting naked and I’m climbing all over you.”

  She dropped her hands and watched his retreating back as he walked out of her office. He moved past the printers, and she wondered how many customers were out front.

  Act natural. Anxiety tumbled with the lust still warming her stomach as she followed close on Blake’s heels. She put a smile on her face and pretended like nothing happened. Like Blake Junger hadn’t just stormed out of her office looking all hot and sexy. Act natural. Like he wasn’t a dark, angry cloud rolling past Frankie Cornell.

  “Hi, Natalie.” Frankie stood at the counter with a pack of photos in his hand, all cheery and pleased like he didn’t know he’d just dodged Hurricane Blake.

  “Hello, Frankie,” she said, a little too friendly to be natural.

  Blake yanked opened the door but stopped in his tracks. His shoulders looked so wide framed by the entrance. Then he slowly turned and pinned poor Frankie with his gaze. “Let me give you some advice, my friend.” He took the sunglasses from the top of his head and shoved them on his face. “Keep your camera out of your pants. No one wants to see your cock.”