God. So fucking adorable. And sweet. He chuckled and cupped the back of her neck, not even remotely interested in forgoing touch with her innocent gaze locked onto him. Her hair slicked against his knuckles in a soft, silken touch. For a second, he was tempted to fist his hand around it and drag her across the console for a kiss in lieu of an answer.
“Because you cook for an army and take the leftovers to your neighbors,” he said instead. “Because you’d take on a roomful of men you don’t know with nothing more than those kitten claws of yours to protect your brother. Because you try to make that same brother eat healthy food even though you know he’s cramming Big Macs down his throat when you’re not looking. Because you could sashay around in a burlap sack without any makeup on and still make every damned man in her path rubberneck for a better look. You want me to keep going?”
She shook her head and tried to avert her face.
He tightened his grip and held her still. “You get this is a date now?”
“What if I don’t want it to be a date?” she whispered.
Leaning in, he cupped the back of her head and ghosted his lips across hers in an almost kiss. “Then I’ll find a way to change your mind.”
Her sweet little gasp grated at what little control he had left. He couldn’t go there. Not yet. Not if he wanted her to see he was willing to put in the effort. That she was worth going the extra step. He slid his hand down and fanned his thumb along her lower lip. “I don’t mind fighting for your attention. After everything I’ve seen of you in the last few weeks, the fight will be worth it.”
Knuckles rapped against his window behind him and Gabe jumped back, nearly knocking her head on the passenger-side window. Zeke glanced over one shoulder at the teenage boys waiting for him. Their none too subtle, yet thankfully muted laughter promised all kinds of razzing once he got on the field. He grabbed Gabe’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “Bet that’s the first and last time you’ll ever be saved by three teenage boys.” He motioned to her purse. “Get your stuff and let’s go.”
The boys were still laughing when he opened his door. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. All three of you are running bleachers for touching my ride.” He tried to make it sound stern, but the truth of it was he remembered being in their shoes. At fourteen and fifteen, everything and anything about, or leading to sex, was a male’s primary source of amusement.
“Ah, come on, Doc.” Tommy was just as lanky as Zeke had been at his age, all bone and no muscle. “We were just havin’ a little fun.”
“Mmm-hmm. So was I until you ruined it.” Zeke popped his trunk, dug out two equipment duffels, and tossed the first one to Tommy. “Remember, karma’s a bitch. Could be the girl’s dad who knocks on your window when you’re about to score a lip-lock.” He tossed the second bag to Xander and sidled up to Gabe, waiting near the front of his car. “You guys get those on the field and get out of my hair. I wanna talk to my girl for a minute.”
He hadn’t thought her cheeks could get any redder, but the open male appreciation they aimed her way as they trudged past made her look like she’d spent a whole August afternoon in the sun. He wrapped one arm around her shoulder and guided her to the field. “You know anything about rugby?”
“Um.” Her gait was a little awkward next to his, like her body wasn’t quite used to ambulating so close to another one. Then again, it was probably kind of hard for her to put one foot in front of the other the way she kept glancing at his hand on her shoulder. “No.”
“Well, you’re about to learn. You remember Trevor, right? Cowboy? Thought he’d stake a claim before I did?”
“Stake a claim on what?”
His laugh rang out loud against the quiet morning. “Man, you really have no clue, do you?” When she just stared back at him with a blank look, he squeezed her shoulder and pulled her tighter against him. “You, gatinha. He wanted to stake his claim on you. Not that I’d have let him.”
He steered them toward the bleachers. “So Trevor and I work with some boys who’ve gone sideways with the law. The best way to handle young guys prone to trouble is to give them an outlet. Something to look forward to. So, every Saturday, we give ’em a way to burn off energy with rugby. His team versus mine. It’s nothing fancy or official. You’re gonna be my timekeeper and snap me some killer pictures I can share with the parents the next time I email them our schedule.”
“But I don’t know anything about rugby.”
“It’s easy. Two forty-minute halves and a ten-minute halftime. The only time you stop is if someone gets hurt. And I mean really hurt. Not just shaking their head and stumbling around and looking for who rung their bell.”
They stepped onto the bleachers and Gabe dug in her heels.
The stands weren’t packed to the gills, but they weren’t empty either. Mostly it was a clump of twenty or so parents, mostly mothers, each of whom eyed them with curious stares.
“You made it sound like a private thing,” Gabe muttered.
Zeke shifted in front of her and gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. He lowered his voice for only her. “I know you said you get locked up in the social stuff, but that’s not going to happen this time. You’ve got a purpose in being here. I need a timekeeper and photos. If you start to freeze, remember what you’re here for and focus on that. Plus, it’s a rugby game. No one’s going to expect you to be a conversational genius.”
She cocked her head and frowned. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Bringing me here. Introducing me to people you know.”
So sweet. Untamed and beautifully innocent. He cupped the sides of her face. “Because I like you with me. Because I want people to know you’re with me.”
“You’re trying to fix me.” The words might have been accusatory, but the vulnerability behind them was so blatantly raw, his insides flinched.
“There’s nothing to fix. You’re perfect exactly like you are. I’m just giving you some tools for when you feel anxious. If they work for you, great. If they don’t, that’s cool, too. But I’d want you with me even if you sat in the corner by yourself and flipped everyone the bird. The only person’s opinion I give a shit about when we’re together is yours.”
He leaned a fraction closer and inhaled her elusive, exotic scent. Her lower lip shone in the morning sunlight, slick and plump from the way she’d worked it with her teeth. “And, gatinha, you should know I’m really looking forward to the part of our date where I kiss you stupid.”
Catcalls roared from the field, mixed with laughter and a few sharp whistles.
“Yo, Zeke.” Trevor stood rooted in front of their avid teenage audience, hands planted on his hips and a goofy grin on his face. “Get our girl set up and let’s get this going.”
What a pain in the ass. As brothers went, Trev and he were probably the closest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to deck the guy with regular frequency. Like now. Maybe again later too for good measure. He chin-lifted to Trev instead and eased back.
Putting himself between Gabe and the boys on the field, he coiled his arm around her waist and led her to a prime watching spot. “Come on. We leave that pack unfocused much longer and they’ll dream up some convoluted scam that gets us all thrown in jail.”
Chapter Eleven
Seventy-eight minutes, twenty-seven pictures and only two minor social freeze-ups. Not too bad for a girl who’d rather suffer a root canal than volley random banter with a stranger. Especially when said freeze-ups came from curious mothers sniffing around for details on her relationship to Zeke. She’d bet all the money she’d saved for her new computer they were angling for a chance with either him or Trevor. Not exactly a long shot bet given the spectators were primarily estrogen based.
The digital timer on her phone flipped to seventy-nine minutes. One more and she’d be another ste
p closer to the rest of their date.
A 100 percent, man asks woman out, gets to know her, then kisses her stupid when it’s over date.
She still couldn’t wrap her mind around all the things he’d said, let alone imagine what his lips would feel like against hers. Not the soft, teasing whisper of his lips he’d given her before the boys had knocked on the window, but a real one. Firm and heated.
Not for the first time, her heart kicked hard enough to hurt, and she eyeballed the parking lot. She still had time to run. To call a cab and disappear before things went too far, but that was the safe route. Danny was right. Not everyone had to be like her mother. And with the limited time she’d spent with Zeke, she wouldn’t dare compare him to the other men she’d been with. He opened water bottles for her and actually had manners when he ate. No way did Zeke belong in any category remotely close to Jimmy Franklin.
The clock flipped to eighty minutes, and Gabe nudged the wide-eyed ten-year-old boy she’d finagled as an assistant about thirty minutes into the first half. The gangly redhead shot to his feet and blew on the ref’s whistle with all he had, making half the people around them wince and cover their ears.
Gabe laughed, genuinely enjoying his delight. Recruiting the boy had been an intuitive stroke of genius. He’d paced, antsy and anxious, along the bleacher walkway, watching his brother on the field, obviously uncomfortable and without anything to do. Plus, he didn’t seem to have a parent or guardian to look out for him. Gabe had wanted zero part in blowing the attention-garnering whistle, and keeping an eye on the boy gave her something to do like Zeke had suggested, so she’d recruited him. A perfect win/win for both of them.
Slowly, the mob of teens ambled toward the bleachers, Trevor and Zeke each surrounded on all sides. Both men gave time and attention to each kid, confirming they’d be around next weekend, then sending them on their way. When Zeke stopped and talked with the last boy on his team, her assistant leaned in and said, “That’s my brother, Pete.” Before she could comment, the boy hopped down the bleachers, waved back at her and jogged toward his brother. “Thanks for letting me help!”
Pete finished up with Zeke just as the boy reached them, and Zeke shot her a heart-stopping smile.
Oh, yeah. Definitely a stroke of genius on her part if it meant getting Zeke Dugan to look at her that way. She ducked her head and scrolled through the action shots she’d taken to hide her fluster.
Sharp, heavy footsteps sounded on the bleacher’s metal walkway. “Anything good?” Zeke slid in beside her, his black shoes and socks smattered with mud. The heat coming off him was a welcome warm-up after her chilly morning.
She angled the phone so he could see and flipped through the pics, still not brave enough to look him in the face. “I think so. I can touch them up later and send them to you. The panoramas I took during halftime are nice, too.”
Another set of cleats hammered against the bleacher’s tinny surface. “Good game, brother. Your boys are gettin’ too fast. I’m either going to have to steal someone, or recruit some ringers.” He handed over a set of keys and hiked one of two equipment-laden duffels higher on his shoulder. “You two headed to the hangar now?”
Zeke leveled an Oh, you did not just say that look at Trevor.
“Oh. Right.” Trevor raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, man. Surprise. I forgot.” He winked at Gabe and paired it with a smirk that said he wasn’t sorry at all. “Y’all have fun this afternoon. And don’t let Zeke hog the pictures. I want copies, too.” He ambled toward the parking lot on the opposite end of the field, his easy cowboy stride not the least bit diminished by his rugby attire.
Gabe tucked her phone in her purse. “What was that about?”
“That’s my brother giving me shit.” He stood, held out his hand, and helped Gabe climb over the bottom row to the main walkway. “I think it’s a universal standard for men to give each other a hard time when they see one of their comrades pull out all the stops for a woman.”
“You’re pulling out stops for me?”
“I don’t know.” He splayed his hand along the small of her back and focused on her mouth, his own lifting in a wicked grin. “You’ll have to tell me what you think when the date’s over.”
The electric frisson she’d wrestled to a slow simmer during the match flared a notch higher, burning off the dregs of her anxiety and leaving her anxious for the day to come.
Ten minutes later, Zeke had them back on Highway 75 headed north. It probably made her the oddest duck in the country, but she loved watching him drive. The confident way he controlled the car and shifted gears, like he and the car were fused together instead of two separate pieces. Maybe it was the fact that she’d grown up with two confident drivers. Maybe it was the fact that she appreciated the way he manhandled the horsepower he had to work with. Whatever it was, it was sexy as hell.
“You hungry?” he said.
She tore her gaze away from his strong hand coiled around the gearshift and studied the nonstop businesses zooming past along the highway. She could’ve scarfed back three trips to an all-you-can-eat buffet two hours ago, but no way was she confessing that today. He probably already thought she had the appetite of a linebacker. “A little.”
He chuckled, and the low sexy sound scampered along her skin in a phantom touch. “Gatinha, your stomach grumbled on the way to the car. If you need something, I want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me.”
A breathtaking quiver whirled behind her sternum, the sensation twice as powerful as the one-liners from her favorite romance movies. It was like he was determined to break through every barrier she’d fought to build, literally dismantling it brick by brick. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Okay, yeah. I’m hungry. Really hungry. Those donuts didn’t last long.”
“Good, because there’s a ton of food where we’re headed. If you can make it another five minutes, you can eat until you’re too stuffed to move.”
Five minutes was more like ten minutes. She barely noticed it though with his easy banter, asking questions about the match, what she thought of the parents, and how she’d talked Pete’s brother into sitting with her. Through it all, he exited the highway and drove another three miles down a less-traveled country road. She was just about to razz him about how the predominantly female populated stands were there to watch Zeke and Trevor more than the boys when he pulled into a long and winding newly paved driveway. The black iron gate was open, and a rustic four-rung wood fence stretched out for what had to be a mile in either direction.
“Where are we?” she said.
“Trevor’s ranch. The guy’s got two loves; horses and planes.” He navigated the long drive toward the dark wood home with the green tiled roof. If she’d fallen asleep on the highway and woken up at this second, she’d halfway think she’d been teleported to Montana, minus the hills.
Instead of pulling up to the main house, he drove around back. Two wide metal buildings sat off to one side with a miniature replica of the main house centered between them. Solid concrete lined the front of all three and led to a runway that stretched toward open acreage in the distance. “He’s got his own airplane hangar?”
Zeke nodded and parked in front of the mini-house. “Honest to God, I’m surprised he only keeps one out here. If he didn’t need a bigger runway for his jets, he’d probably keep the whole fleet out here. Of course, then he’d have too many people traipsing all over his property. He might get along good with people, but when Trevor wants to be alone, he doesn’t want any reminders of civilization.”
“Unless it’s got wings.”
“Exactly.” He helped her out of the car, grabbed one of the duffels out of his trunk, and guided her into the house.
The inside was just as warm and cozy as the exterior. Exposed wood ceilings, honey-stained wood floors, and a rugged rock fireplace. None of the furniture matched, at le
ast not in the classic sense. More like someone had picked loads of odds and ends and matched it together via magic. Unlike some leather sofas, the one lined up in front of the fireplace looked soft and comfortable, with loads of wear and tear giving it character.
Zeke strolled to the open kitchen and pulled a whole stack of plastic containers out of the fridge. “Momma McKee made us lunch. There’s a little bit of everything here, so just take what you want and we’ll leave the rest for Trevor.”
“Who’s Momma McKee?”
“Axel’s mom, Sylvie.” He set the containers out and started prying off lids. “She and Jace’s mom, Ninette, live not too far from here at Jace and Axel’s ranch, Haven. The way I see it, I’ve got three moms. Mine, Jace’s and Axel’s.”
“That must be nice.” More than nice, actually. She’d have killed just to have one. “Your friends seem like good people.”
“You say that like you find it hard to believe.”
It was a little hard to believe. Granted, she was slow to give people a chance, but she’d never met anyone like Zeke and his friends. “I’ve just never known people who are so close-knit. You’re kind of intense on your own. As a group, you’re overwhelming.”
“You’ll get used to us.”
Another long-term reference that plucked an old and out-of-tune chord in her heart. A part of her that only stirred in fantasies and imaginary happy-ever-afters. Across the table, all kinds of finger foods and sandwiches blurred into a misty haze, the prickling burn of unease and worry building up steam.
Footsteps clipped against the hardwood floors, and Zeke’s hands rested on her hips a moment later. “Gatinha, turn that head of yours off for a minute. It’s just you and me right now. An easy, fun date between two people getting to know each other.”
His heat radiated across her back and his hands smoothed across her shoulders in a comforting touch. Relax. She could do that. Just focus on the moment. Not tomorrow or any day after it. Only right now. She pulled in a deep, calming breath and let it out slow.
Wild & Sweet (The Haven Brotherhood) Page 12
