He finally extended his own hand, which Heather grasped and shook briskly.
“I’m Phil Evans.”
“Y’all must be so excited about Susan’s wedding tomorrow!”
“Exhausted is more like it,” Dave griped with a good-natured grin. “We’ve spent the whole morning getting ready for the rehearsal dinner tonight. Martin’s folks have retired and moved away, so Ma offered to have it out back.”
“Can I help?” Mick offered.
His father and Danny snickered, before Danny answered with derision, “In those clothes, I don’t think so.”
“Always did want to be more than he was—with his fancy clothes and car.” His father sneered.
Boy-oh-boy, no wonder Mick had run from this house and didn’t stop until he got to the west coast and ran out of land in Oregon. Heather thought if she was in the same situation, she might have hopped in a boat and kept paddling until she hit Japan on the other side of the ocean.
Mick was dressed in khakis and a sky blue polo shirt, for Pete’s sake; it’s not like he showed up in an Armani tux. Oh man, she hoped he hadn’t actually brought a tuxedo with him in his expensive leather garment bag. It would make things even more awkward, if he brought a tux to wear to the wedding.
Mick glanced down at his clothes and shrugged. “So, I’ll change.”
Heather was proud of his calm tone of voice in the face of such antagonism from his father and Danny.
She popped the trunk of the car with the key fob. “We’ll get our stuff, and then we can both change and pitch in to help.”
Mick’s mother’s eyes widened in panic as his father shouted, “What do you mean get your stuff? Aren’t y’all staying down at the Dew Drop?”
Mick raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Must be your lucky day, Dad, because we’re staying right here with you.”
Billy and Dave hustled over to help with the luggage, and Carol pointedly avoided her husband’s angry stare. She tucked her hand in Heather’s arm, and Heather gave it an encouraging squeeze.
“Heather, we have a sleeper sofa in the basement family room for you.”
“But you can keep your stuff in my room,” Susan offered with a shy smile, as she took a tentative step toward her mother, who rewarded her act of support with a grateful smile.
“And you can bunk in with me, Mick,” Billy offered with a nervous glance at his father, who stood by with his fists clenched and teeth grinding.
Heather cocked her head as she observed him. It was funny. For all their differences, Mick did the exact same thing with his jaw when he was tense. Somehow, she didn’t think either man would be thrilled with her observation.
Chapter 9
Heather paused on her way back to the kitchen, after changing into jeans in Susan’s bedroom. Photos of the Evans kids in various stages of development lined the walls of the narrow hallway. She smiled at one image of little Mick in his Peewee football uniform.
“We’re in the kitchen, Heather,” Carol Evans called.
She followed the sound of her voice and found Susan and Carol in an outdated, but homey and spotlessly clean, kitchen. They were cutting vegetables and slicing cheese, and arranging them on trays for the rehearsal dinner.
She peeked out through the red and white gingham curtains at the window, to the backyard. She expected to see the men hard at work, getting things ready for the party; instead she saw the yard empty of people, but full of tables and folded up chairs.
“Where are the guys?”
“They had to run out to do some errands. They needed something at the hardware store, and to get the wine and beer.”
“Mick went too?” Heather couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice.
Mrs. Evans glanced up as she sliced a red bell pepper. “Billy insisted on going to the hardware store in Lola, and Dave wanted to ride in her too. Phil and Danny took the pickup to get the keg and the wine.”
That made more sense to Heather. She couldn’t imagine Mr. Evans, Danny, and Mick going out for a jaunt together, unless it was to the Thunderdome. Three men enter, one man leaves. Seriously, the tension between them was out of bounds, but the younger Evans brothers didn’t seem to hold any grudge against Mick. In fact, they seemed to admire him—probably wondering if they’d be able to escape the mine and the oppressive atmosphere of this house like he had.
“Billy seemed really interested in Lola. Is he a car guy?”
Susan rolled her eyes. “He’s a car nut! That hunk of rust on blocks in the yard is his; he swears he’ll get it running someday.”
“He will,” Mrs. Evans said staunchly. “He’s an excellent mechanic.”
“Does he work at a garage?” Heather asked.
Mrs. Evans cheeks turned red, and she focused intently on her pepper, maybe to avoid looking at Heather. “No. He works at the mine with his dad and brother.”
“Oh.” Heather didn’t know how to respond.
Susan grimaced. “Billy would love to work full-time as a mechanic, but Dad’s a Nazi about all the boys working at the mine with him. Thank God, I’m a girl. Mick’s the only one who’s gotten away.” She paused, and then added meaningfully, “So far.”
“It’s important to him they carry on the family tradition,” Mrs. Evans half-heartedly defended her husband.
Susan’s knife thumped as she drove it through the cheddar with more force than was necessary. “Let Danny carry on the tradition. He wants to do it, but let Billy and Dave choose what they want to do with their lives.”
An uneasy silence settled over the kitchen. Man, Mick was going to owe her for this weekend. Talk about tensionpalooza! Although, the messed up family dynamic did give her some insight into what made Mick tick.
She spotted an old radio on a shelf over the sink. “Do you mind if I put on some music while we work, Mrs. Evans? It’ll make it more festive.”
Mrs. Evans cast her a grateful smile. “Sounds good, dear, but please call me Carol.”
Heather flicked a switch, and an upbeat country song filled the room. “Okay, what can I do to help?”
“You could grab the celery and slice it. There’s a bowl with a cream cheese and pineapple mixture in the fridge; cut the celery into little boats and fill them with it.”
“Sounds yummy.” Heather grabbed the celery and rinsed it in the sink. She began to sing along with the song on the radio, and Susan joined in as she worked.
Carol smiled shyly at Heather, before softly singing along with the girls.
****
The rest of the family was at the church for the rehearsal, but Mick and Heather stayed behind to finish setting up for the party.
Mick smiled as Heather danced out of the kitchen door, a tray of cheese and crackers in her hands. He’d hooked up the stereo to speakers they’d brought outside, so music filled the warm, spring air. It was a party song about drinking beer, and girls dancing on the beds of pick-up trucks, so of course his girl Heather knew all the words. Hold on, Evans—what was he thinking? Heather wasn’t his girl. She was just helping him out this weekend.
But she sure was great with his family. She maintained her sunny disposition, even with his ill-tempered father, and she really helped to lighten up the atmosphere. She’d proved herself to be a good friend to him—maybe the best one he’d ever had.
She stopped at the long table, which was set up for the buffet, and leaned over to fuss with the arrangement of the platter. His attention was riveted to her fabulous ass, as she swayed her hips along to the music. He’d rather take a bite out of it than any of the appetizers on the tray. Friend, dumbass, she’s your best friend.
“Were you staring at my ass? Did I get something on my skirt?” Heather turned around, but she swiped at her behind and craned her neck to try to get a look at it.
He grinned ruefully. “I was staring at your ass, but not because there’s anything on it. You just look really good in that denim skirt.”
She rolled her eyes, but flushed with pleasure, so Mick didn’
t think he was in too much trouble for ogling her.
“You’ve been a real trooper today. I owe you big-time. To pay you back, I was thinking next weekend we can go up to Frederick, and I’ll treat you to dinner at that celebrity chef’s restaurant there. I’ve heard it’s really good.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts, which only served to draw his attention from her ass up to them. They were lovely breasts, not too big or too small. They were just right.
“Are you looking at my boobs now? First you stare at my ass; then my boobs, and now you want to take me on a dinner date to a fancy restaurant? What’s going on here?”
“Damned if I know,” Mick admitted.
A slow song came on, and he held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
She swatted at it. “What? No! Everyone will be back in a few minutes, and we don’t have all the food out yet.”
Shot down.
Huh.
It didn’t happen to him too often, but he could always count on Heather to surprise him.
He followed her into the kitchen. “Tomorrow then, at the wedding, we dance.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and he saw confusion and pleasure at war in her expression.
“Okay, you’ve got my I.O.U. for a dance at the reception tomorrow.” She shoved a bowl of onion dip at him. “Now bring this out and put it on the table with the chips.”
****
Heather tossed and turned on the thin mattress of the torture device that was the Evans’ sleeper sofa.
She tossed back the blanket. You’d think it would be cooler in the basement family room, but with no windows to open, it felt still and warm.
She heaved an exasperated sigh. Maybe it was just thoughts of Mick that had her feeling toasty. He’d stuck by her side all night; oh-so-casually touching her while they talked to people, putting his big hand on the small of her back when they walked somewhere.
And who knew the small of your back was such an erogenous zone? It had never done anything for Heather before. Maybe because it had never been Mick’s big, warm hand doing the touching.
What was with him tonight? They were supposed to be friends, right? Well, Bethanne and she were friends, but she’d never seen Bethanne ogle her ass before. Magda and she were friends, but Magda had never looked at her with bedroom eyes and commanded her to ‘dance with me.’
As if her thoughts had summoned him, she heard the basement door open, and saw Mick silhouetted in the dim glow of the kitchen nightlight at the top of the stairs.
He clumped down them and whispered, “Heather? Are you awake?”
She giggled. “Who could sleep through the ruckus of you thumping down those stairs? I thought Bigfoot was coming to get me.”
He chuckled and perched on the edge of her bed. “Don’t be silly. Bigfoot? In West Virginia it’s far more likely to be Mothman.”
She laughed, but it was a little breathless as she took in the wonder that was Mick Evans without a shirt. His chest wasn’t ripped like it had been in his playing days, but it was still broad and muscular, with a light smattering of brown hair. The athletic shorts were slung low on his hips, and her eyes followed that brown hair down its happy trail. She licked her lips.
“Heather,” his voice was rough. “We’re in my parents’ basement, for the love of God. Stop looking at me like that.”
As his hungry eyes raked over her, Heather became very aware of her tiny sleep shorts and thin cami top, which she was sure revealed all too clearly, her breasts’ traitorous reaction to his presence in her bed.
Why hadn’t she packed a flannel nightgown, or better yet—a suit of armor? Yeah, that might have provided some protection from the desire on Mick’s face as he looked at her and groaned softly.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come down here, but I couldn’t sleep. I swear the cot is ninety years old and stuffed with rocks.”
He bounced twice on her bed. “This isn’t any better, sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Heather knew she had to change the subject from their respective beds, or else she was going to drag him down to test the springs on hers. “I wonder if Susan’s getting any sleep, or if she’s too nervous?”
“Her room was quiet, when I walked by on my way here.”
“They’re a good team, Martin and Susan. I think they’ll be happy together.”
“He seems like a good guy.” He paused and grinned at her. “Almost good enough for my baby sister.”
“She must’ve been just a little kid when you left home.”
“She was the cutest little thing. The only girl, we all spoiled her something rotten.”
She smiled at him. “It’s nice how you’ve managed to stay so close to her.”
He nodded. “I have, and with my mom, Billy, and Dave too. Everyone except my dad and Danny.”
That killed the simmering sexual tension between them as effectively as a bucket of ice water.
“I’m sorry it’s been so strained. Your father’s a hard man.”
“And Danny’s his clone. They’re both still angry with me for taking the football scholarship and going to college.”
Heather plumped up her pillow behind her and leaned back. She crossed her legs at her ankles. “It’s so different from when Jeff went to college. Mom was over the moon when he got his full ride to Alabama. It would’ve been a real struggle for her to put him through school without some help, and it was obvious raising horses wasn’t his thing the way it is Jason’s.”
Of course, her own college scholarship was also the source of her lone serious disagreement with her mother, but tonight wasn’t the time to get into her sad story.
Mick stuck the other pillow next to hers and reclined against it. When he stretched his long legs out on the bed, she saw the wicked-looking scar on his knee—the result of the surgery following his terrible injury. She fought back the urge to crawl over and press her lips to it. Yeah, right, they were friends…no sexual feelings here, no sirree.
“It was my ticket out. Without football—without my scholarship—going to any college would never have been an option for me, let alone going to Stanford. I don’t just mean the money. My father was furious I wanted to learn something, to be something. He took it as a personal insult. Evans men have lived in this town and worked in the mine for generations,” he imitated his father’s gruff voice. “If it was good enough for all those men who came before you, why isn’t it good enough for you, boy? You sayin’ you’re better than us?”
Heather’s jaw dropped. “He actually said that to you?”
He grasped the sheet in his fist and crumpled it. “He did. I don’t have anything against his choices, or Danny’s either, but they weren’t mine. And I don’t think they’re Billy or Dave’s either.”
“No, you’re right, they’re not. Billy would love to be a mechanic; he’s even gotten his certification. Dave confided in me he was offered a baseball scholarship to West Virginia University. I told him my nephew Craig is going there too. I invited him down to visit, so they could meet up before they go. It’s always nice to have a built-in friend at a new place, right?”
He nodded in agreement, but one side of his mouth quirked up. “You’ve certainly won over the Evans men.”
“Some of them, your dad acts like he doesn’t know what to make of me, and I think Danny just sees a pair of boobs on legs when he looks at me.”
“A luscious pair of boobs, on a world-class set of legs. Danny can be a huge jerk, but on this matter I can’t entirely blame the man.”
“Oh you sweet talker!” Heather felt her cheeks heat up and leaned forward to pull the sheet up over her body.
Mick leaned too, to still her hand. “Don’t cover up on my account. I’m sorry I teased you. I think you’re really beautiful.”
Heather’s heart pounded at his words, and at the heat and sincerity in his tone. His hand still covered hers on the blanket, and it burned into her skin.
“Mick,” she whispered, “friends don’t talk to eac
h other that way, and they most certainly don’t look at each other the way you’re looking at me right now.”
He ran the back of his hand up her bare arm, and responded in a low voice that sent shivers up her spine. “Then maybe, just for the weekend, we can pretend we’re not friends.”
His hand reached her shoulder and continued on, skimming over the sensitive skin on her neck until he cupped her face in his big hand. She shut her eyes and leaned into his touch. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
He brushed a feather light kiss to her temple. “Right about now, I think it’s an idea that has definite merit.”
She tilted her face up to his, and he closed the small distance between them to kiss her. Once.
Twice.
Three times, very lightly on her lips.
His lips were firm and warm, but Heather wanted more. Hell, she needed more. She turned to press her body against his and was very aware the thin cotton of her cami was all separating them from being skin to skin. Her breasts peaked against his broad chest, and when he groaned low in his throat, she knew he felt it too—this irresistible, electric pull between them.
He pulled her on top of him and deepened their kiss. He kept one hand buried in her hair, while the other roamed freely across her body.
She put her hands on his shoulders, and then slid them down to his chest. His skin felt like silk, but silk stretched taut over the iron of his muscles.
Her hands decided to take a southerly tour of the wonderland of his body.
Upstairs a toilet flushed and the water whooshed through the pipes to the basement. The sudden sound made them both freeze in place, as they came to their combined senses and remembered where they were.
“Someone else is awake, you’d better get back upstairs,” she whispered.
His eyes widened in disbelief. “What! Why?”
“Because they might realize you’re down here with me in my bed, and I don’t want your family to think I’m a hussy.”
Love is Lovelier Page 8
