She laughed and hiccuped. The bleached blonde to her left flashed her a Seriously? glare.
She wasn’t drunk. Tipsy? Hell yeah. Enjoying herself? Absolutely. Even when most of her crew had picked up and gone back to their perspective loaner homes, she’d chosen to linger. After all, it was Friday night. All she had to do tomorrow was put some finishing touches on the senior center and host the reveal. Easy cheesy.
She’d never been in an environment like Devils before. She never thought she’d fit in with a roomful of hell-raisers looking for a good time, but she found she kinda did. They were different than the store owners who looked to her for help. The people surrounding the bar, dance floor, and pool table didn’t expect anything from her other than to have a little fun. And she was doing her best to keep up her end of the deal.
When a couple of women in blue jeans and snap-front Western shirts dragged her out onto the dance floor, she learned to do the Electric Slide in flip-flops. For the Tush Push, she’d kicked off her shoes and dared to boogie barefoot. By the end of the song, she’d come out laughing with toes intact and a vow to buy a pair of boots before she visited Devils again.
And all the time, she couldn’t help but keep looking over her shoulder at the tall, dark man leaning over the pool table.
Common sense and past experience told her to keep away. But he was like a fishing lure, and she was just an old largemouth bass. Admittedly, she was weak for a man who held tradition and memories so close to his heart, he’d give up everything, including his own happiness, to hold on. Those dark eyes of his held secrets and heartache. And within their depths, she often thought she saw unity.
But she’d been wrong before.
When he popped the last ball on the table into the pocket, the crowd cheered. Charli watched as, with a big grin, he leaned over, swiped up the money lying on the felt, and accepted a kiss on the cheek from Bambi with the big belt buckle. Charli decided she’d spent enough time ogling. It was probably time to call it a night. She carried her beer over to a rare open stool at the bar.
“You want another one of those?” the bartender asked.
“I’d probably better have coffee.”
“If you’re serious, I’ll put on a pot.”
“Thanks.” In the meantime, she planned to finish the . . . she lifted the bottle and looked at the Blue Moon label. She’d always thought of herself as more of a teetotaler, wine connoisseur. But by the bottom of the first bottle, she’d decided she liked beer. She’d probably be bloated as hell tomorrow, but tonight, she’d been down with the nice orange-colored brew drifting through her bloodstream.
Reno folded his winnings into his pocket and headed toward the door and home. Alone. As usual. Even though he’d had several offers for companionship.
Absently, he scanned the room, wondering if Charli had left. He’d caught her in his peripheral vision now and again—dancing, or talking, or laughing. To his surprise, she’d managed to fit in with the hell-raising mob.
When his gaze hit the bar, there she sat—her hand wrapped around a bottle of Blue Moon, her chin propped up with her palm, looking like she could pass out any second. Before he could stop himself, he was zigzagging through the crowd.
“Weren’t you supposed to turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”
She looked up and gave him a smile that melted a frozen chip off his heart. He’d never had a woman smile at him like that since Diana—like she was genuinely happy to see him.
Then again, maybe it was just the beer in his system.
“Is that an insult to my poodle?”
He chuckled, leaned a hip against the bar. “You got a comeback for everything?”
She grinned. “I try.”
“You’re pretty good at it.”
“Wow. Is that a compliment from Mr. Grumpy?”
“I’m not grumpy.”
A husky laugh, which made everything inside him tighten and swell, escaped those pretty lips.
“You so are grumpy. And you have the most amazing dimples.” She reached up and trailed a finger down his cheek. “You really should show them more often.”
He didn’t flinch when she touched him. In fact, he liked it so much he wanted to grasp her hand before she could pull it away and make her touch him some more.
Then again, maybe that was just the beer in his system.
And maybe he seriously needed to quit blaming the two bottles of beer he’d had much earlier for his reaction—or attraction—to her.
“Are you flirting with me, Ms. Brooks?”
She looked up, batted those full, thick eyelashes, and tilted her head. “Maybe.”
Blood raged through his veins when he looked at those cherry red lips that matched her skimpy little sundress. He wondered what it would be like to kiss them. To find out if they were as soft as they looked.
He inhaled a deep breath meant to calm him down.
It did not.
“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted.
“Say you’re flattered.”
“I’m flattered?”
“Thank you.” She twirled her index finger around the rim of her bottle. “So where’d you get a name like Reno anyway?”
“From a mother who was so high she couldn’t remember anything except the city she was in.”
She leaned her head back. Her eyes assessed him. Her luscious mouth parted just enough for a small gasp to escape. “I’ve met your mother. She hardly seems the type.”
“She’s not. But she didn’t give birth to me,” he admitted openly though he didn’t know why. “Joe and Jana were my aunt and uncle. They adopted me and became my parents out of the kindness of their hearts.” And that was about all he planned to tell her. Ever.
“Then you’re a very lucky man.”
“I am.” He gave a nod to her empty bottle. “You about ready to get out of here?”
“The bartender is making coffee, so I can drive home.”
“Caffeine will only make you a wide-awake drunk.”
Her smooth brows crinkled together. “I’m not drunk.”
“Uh-huh.” He glanced over his shoulder, looking for her design crew, but they all seemed to have disappeared. “You got a purse or something?”
“In the Hummer. Why?”
“I’m taking you home.”
“Oooh, I like the sound of that.”
He couldn’t stop the smile that pushed at the corners of his mouth. “Only so you don’t put anyone’s life in danger.”
“Well, that’s too bad.”
What did she expect? That he’d take her home, and they’d do the wild thing?
He didn’t like her.
He didn’t like that she could look at him so direct and find a way to extract pieces of his life before he knew what the hell he was saying.
He didn’t like that she had practically everyone in town mesmerized with her pretty words and false promises.
He just didn’t like a damned thing about her.
When he took her arm to help her from the stool, the warmth of her soft skin beneath his hand brought everything together like the eye of a hurricane. And he had to admit the one thing he’d been denying since she slipped out of that big yellow Hummer and poked her high heels into Ernie McGreavy’s grass.
He wanted her.
Bad.
Charli had never been one to lack for things to say. Her mother had once told her she even talked in her sleep. On the ride back to Reno’s ranch, she was unusually quiet. Until she realized her silence probably made him happy. And she could think of a dozen better methods to make the man smile.
“At the bar, I heard a song something about a truck, and a beer, and a girl in a red sundress.” She floated a Vanna White hand down the front of her dress. “Ironic, isn’t it?”
When he glanced across the dark of the cab, she could swear a smile tilted his lips.
“Completely.”
“Of course, there was also something in that song about a kiss and a creek at 2:0
0 A.M.” The beer tingle in her veins squashed down her man ban and gave her an extra boost of bold. Not that she needed one. Just being around him took all her professionalism and her cool and turned it inside out. Common sense? Pffft. Gone. Hormones raging? Oh yeah. Which begged the question—why were women so intrigued by the unattainable man? “Didn’t I see a creek on your property?”
The dashboard lights reflected off the buttons on his shirt and the side of his face as he turned his head with a What the hell? look on his face.
“You whip off your clothes there, and you’re likely to become mosquito bait,” he said.
“Well, that’s not very romantic.”
“You know the difference between fantasy and reality?”
“Of course. But it’s my job to mingle the two.”
“I know I’ll regret like hell asking this but . . .” His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “How so?”
“Well . . .” She kicked off her flip-flops and tucked her feet up. “Sometimes when I meet a client, they bring me a box or a binder full of pictures of things they like. Images that inspire them no matter how far out of their reach they might seem. It’s my job to bring those fantasies to life.”
“Sounds frivolous.”
“Oh, it is.” She leaned toward him and grinned. “Very often it’s decadent. Like a rich chocolate parfait eaten in bed on a Sunday morning after a night of drinking champagne and making love.”
He leaned his head back and looked at her like he didn’t know what to make of her.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never done that,” she said. Not that she ever had.
“I’m not much of the parfait type.”
She gave him her most innocent look and poked the bear some more. “Not even when you can lick it off someone’s body?” She’d never done that either. But she was willing to try.
He coughed.
She laughed.
Damned if she wouldn’t break him out of that shell somehow.
“Most of the time I mingle fantasy and reality in the form of creating environments where families can bond over meals, or quiet time, or even game time,” she said. “Before I started this job, I created a game room for a family of eight that was like The Jetsons meet Happy Days. It was a bit extreme, but I created all kinds of nooks where they could all just gather and have fun. The mom and dad complained that as their children were getting older and had so many activities, they were rarely home. So they wanted someplace the kids would want to come. Maybe bring their friends over.”
She laughed, remembering the way those kids’ eyes lit up when they saw the room. “I called them after a few months, and the mom said their game room had become the neighborhood hangout, and now they needed to create a space for the parents to have some quiet time.”
“What did you create for them?”
She sighed. “I wasn’t able to work with them because of the schedule for the show. So I had to hand it over to a designer friend.”
“Sounds like that bothers you.”
“It does. When you work in someone’s home for weeks or months, you feel like you become a part of them. You get to know them. Sometimes, they become friends. I liked being in that house with all those kids running around. It was fun.” She glanced out the side window at the passing rows of trees to mask a pang of longing. Sometimes, the task of creating those warm family environments made her realize what she wanted but didn’t have.
“Anyway.” For a distraction from the ache in her heart, she reached forward and turned the volume up on the radio. A male country artist came on singing about wanting to know what he had to do to win someone over. “Is this a classic truck?”
“No.” He kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. “It’s just old. It belonged to my father. I have a newer one in the garage. I just like this one.”
She could relate. Sometimes, the connections you had to objects were all you had left of a person. She had her mother’s jewelry box. Though it had been given to her empty, she could still imagine the baubles her mother had once stored there. A few times she’d even let Charli play dress up in those dangly earrings and huge necklaces. “I like old things.”
“Right.”
She looked up and noted the frown tightening his brow. “You sound doubtful.”
“Hard to buy from someone who’s single-handedly trying to change everything old about this town.”
“I didn’t choose to come here and change things, you know. I was asked to come here. I’m just doing my job. And I’m doing my best to preserve the soul of Sweet while giving it something that will make it more attractive to those who want to come in and spend their hard-earned cash. People in Sweet have to make a living, you know.”
“Sweet was never meant to be a tourist attraction.”
“But it would bring in more revenue.”
“Everything can’t be about money.”
“Why do you like to argue all the time?”
He turned his head, gave her a long look. “I don’t.”
“You argue with me every chance you get.”
“Because you piss me off about 90 percent of the time.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yes. That leaves at least 10 percent in my favor.”
He laughed. And by the expression on his face, that surprised him.
“Do you always just say whatever the hell you feel like?”
She tilted her head and studied the sudden Grrrr look on his face. “Don’t you?”
In response, he turned the truck onto the bumpy gravel road that led to his house. They rolled to a stop and parked by the barn. After he shoved the gearshift into PARK, he said, “Look. I offered you a ride so you didn’t injure yourself or anyone else. That’s it. I don’t want to talk about the age of my truck, or argue with you, or figure out why you’re so outspoken.”
He grabbed the keys from the ignition and got out before she could respond. A bit dazed, she sat there, expecting him to disappear inside his house without another word. Instead, he came around to her side of the truck and opened her door.
“Maybe it doesn’t matter to you . . .” she said, dangling her legs over the edge of the seat. “But I had to learn to be outspoken, so I wouldn’t be completely ignored. The general wasn’t the most attentive father a girl could have. In his fleeting moments at home, I had to make him aware of me. Whether he wanted to or not.”
His eyes searched her face for a long, breathless moment. Then his face softened. Silently, he held out his hands.
Her heart skipped as she placed her hands in his and slid down from the big red truck. Her bare feet hit gravel cooled by the night air, and her toes dug in.
They were breast to chest, and she swore she could feel his heart beat. When she thought he’d let go, he held on and drew her closer. She knew that even as he did so, the conflicts in his soul battled for dominance. She, on the other hand, had never been a woman to let a good thing go. At the moment, they might be like fire and gasoline, but something in his eyes said Reno Wilder was a man worth fighting for. And her heart was more than willing to take a chance.
His gaze swept her face, fell to her mouth, then came back up to her eyes and held. His thick dark lashes lowered on a slow blink. When she thought her heart would knock through her rib cage, he cupped her face between his strong hands, lowered his head, and brushed her mouth with his warm lips.
“I’m sorry you had to fight for your father’s attention,” he whispered against her mouth. “But you definitely have mine.” Then he kissed her so slow and sweet, she thought her hammering heart would shatter. For a moment, surprise immobilized her, and she could do nothing more than stand there while he fed her a tender kiss.
His lips were soft yet possessive. Commanding yet gentle. When his long fingers slid into the hair at her temples and tilted her head for better access, she wrapped her arms around his waist. His lips tested, and teased, and made her want more, more, more.
Then he was gone, a
nd her arms were empty.
He lowered his hands to his sides and turned to leave.
“Wait a minute.” She reached out and grasped the firm muscle of his forearm. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.” He looked over his shoulder. “That’s it.”
While everything inside her buzzed and snapped, he was content with one kiss?
“Are you serious?”
“To be fair, I’ve been pretty up front about everything.” He turned—halfway toward escape. “You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Then what was that kiss all about?”
His broad shoulders lifted. “Momentary insanity.”
“Bullshit.”
“Call it what you want.” His dark slash of brows pulled together, and the silver at his temples glinted in the moonlight. “It won’t happen again.”
Bullshit. She wanted to argue or prove him wrong, but, for the moment, she’d let it go. “Will you be at the senior center reveal tomorrow?” she called to his retreating backside.
“Don’t count on it.”
Charli grabbed her purse off the seat of the truck and walked into the darkness of the barn. There she turned and, with a skip in her heart, watched those long legs and slow gait put space between them.
She considered herself a reasonable woman.
Reasonably smart.
Reasonably cautious.
Reasonably patient.
Reasonably tolerant.
Reasonable did not come to mind when she considered the flood of feelings she’d quickly developed. He was a physically beautiful man. But that wasn’t all that attracted her to him. It was what went on behind those soulful eyes and deep within that broad chest. She was intrigued as hell by the curiosity of the man’s mind and heart and the glimpses she caught of the passion he’d locked away.
When he reached his back veranda, he called for Bear. The Australian shepherd appeared and danced around until Reno leaned down and gave the dog some love. Charli sighed as they both disappeared in the darkness.
Walk away now, Cowboy. But this isn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
Reno closed the door behind him. Without turning on the lights, he walked into his room and sat down on the bed. Bear jumped up and lay down beside him while he sat there in the darkness, wondering exactly when he’d completely lost his mind.
Candis Terry - [Sweet, Texas 01] Page 10
