Candis Terry - [Sweet, Texas 01]

by Anything But Sweet

  She stood, brushed the dirt from her hands, then planted them on her hips and looked up at him. The sunlight hit her eyes, and, for the first time, he realized they weren’t just dark, they were rich maple honey with flecks of gold and copper that flashed at him like the sparks of an electrical storm.

  “I know you hate what’s going on here,” she said, “but—”

  “I didn’t say I hated it.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head. A lock of hair slipped from its knot and fell across her smooth shoulder. She reached up and swept it behind her ear. “You could have fooled me with all that frowning and growling going on.”

  “I don’t growl.”

  A smile tilted those pretty lips. “You totally growl.” She reached down and picked up her planting trowel. “So I’m sure something important dragged you from your cave, or you wouldn’t have come over here.”

  “You’re awful prickly today, Fancy Pants.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  “Wow. You’re going to give in that easy?”

  “I never give in.”

  “Never?”

  “Ever.”

  “Seriously?”

  He couldn’t help smile. “Dead serious.”

  She grinned like someone had given her a fresh scoop of ice cream with colored sprinkles. “Then you’re on.”

  “And you’re not making sense.”

  “Sure I am. I’m taking that challenge.”

  “I don’t remember issuing one.”

  She took a step closer. “We’ve pretty much established that other than a moment or two of wonderful insanity or a break in hostility, you don’t like me much.”

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about her anymore. Parts of him wanted to strangle her pretty neck or kick her cute backside all the way out of town. Other parts wanted to pull her into him and kiss her all damn day long. And then there were other parts that just wanted to grab her, back her up against a tree, and go primitive.

  “So I’m taking the challenge of making you give in,” she said.

  “Give in to what?”

  She stepped even closer and got all chesty, like a bulldog looking for a fight. “Me.”

  He laughed. “Not going to happen.”

  “Really?”

  “Nope.”

  Her head tilted again, exposing that sweet, soft skin. He really wished she’d quit doing that. “Want to make a bet?”

  “I don’t take money from women.”

  “Good, because I don’t want your money.”

  “Then what do you want?” he asked, knowing that what he wanted right at that moment was to tear off that little tank top and put his hands all over her.

  “If I win, I get to make over the hardware store with no whining or interference from you. If you win, I leave your precious dusty conglomeration of paraphernalia alone.” She stuck out her hand. “Deal?”

  “How will I know who wins?”

  “Oh, you’ll know.” She grinned. “Believe me. You’ll know.”

  Well, didn’t that just sound intriguing as hell? If only to find out exactly what she had in mind, he engulfed her hand in his and shook on a bet that was too stupid for him to believe that he’d taken a part in.

  “So what’s in the boxes,” she asked, still latched onto his hand.

  He looked down. “Landscape lighting.”

  “You mean the landscape lighting that supposedly you couldn’t find?”

  “Yep.”

  “Just like the ceiling tiles you couldn’t find, then somehow they mysteriously appeared on the ceiling of Goody Gum Drops?”

  “Yep.”

  She tugged on his hand and drew him closer. And all he could do was get lost in those electrical flashes in her eyes.

  “I’m onto you, Reno Wilder.”

  “You’re delusional, Fancy Pants.”

  “Uh-uh. You’re not half as tough as you think. And don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul.” She reached up, patted him on the chest. “But believe me, you only get a temporary reprieve. Because I plan to be on top very soon. So you’d better watch your stuff.”

  While he wondered exactly what part of his stuff he was supposed to watch, she gave him a sassy little grin and strutted away.

  An unexpected chuckle rose from his chest.

  As much as he’d liked to be pissed off about everything, he couldn’t. Because at the moment, all he could think about was Charli.

  On top.

  In his favorite position.

  Wearing nothing but a smile.

  “If you dare to stray from the expected, you get a big old mouthful of sweet, delicious heaven.”

  Immersed in the patriotic “Don’t Mess with Texas” décor, Charli sat around a big table in the heart of Bud’s Nothing Finer Diner surrounded by blue hairs, big hairs, and no hairs. Age—and obviously hairstyles—had no boundaries when the topic turned to the potluck dishes everyone had chosen to bring to the Wilders’ celebration on Friday night.

  “I got a crate of honeycrisp from Paige’s orchard last fall,” Hazel Calhoun continued to tell Gertie West, “and I swear on the good book they’re a better choice than Granny Smiths.”

  “What did you call that recipe again?” Charli asked, intrigued, and suddenly inspired to order a slice of Bud’s fresh apple pie.

  “Apple, cinnamon, and walnut rolls with cream cheese,” Hazel said, as proud as a mama bear.

  “Mmmmm.” Charli’s mouth watered. “I’m looking forward to tasting those.”

  “They won’t beat my sweet-potato fries and apple-butter dipping sauce,” Gertie West proclaimed. “That butter’s been a blue ribbon winner for two years’ running.”

  While the argument over whose recipe reigned supreme, Charli couldn’t help wonder a little bit more about Jana Wilder’s get-together for the entire population of Sweet.

  “So what goes on at this party?” she asked.

  “What doesn’t go on?” Ray Calhoun jumped into the female-dominated discussion. “Obviously, if you listen to the womenfolk, it’s just a bunch of eatin’. But there’s dancin’ too. And entertainment.” He hooted a laugh. “Old Chester’s been known to tip back a bottle of Dickel, get a little crazy, and haul his scraggly old bones out for a skinny dip in the creek.”

  A mental image of the ancient cowboy in nothing but his boots brought forth a giggle. “Does the entire town actually show up?” Charli asked.

  “Nah,” Ray said, “ ’bout a third do, though. Those Wilder boys built their mama the biggest smoker grill I ever seen. Looks like a damned military tank. But it sure does make a sweet barbecue.” Ray licked his lips.

  “And you said there was dancing?” Charli asked.

  “Always a local band,” Gertie said. “Think this year Jana rounded up Moonshine Mayhem.”

  Again, Charli laughed. “Well, that sounds lively.”

  “Yeah, they play down at Devils once in a while when they’re in town. Singer sounds a little like Brad Paisley.”

  “Who?”

  They all looked at her as if she’d popped a brain cell.

  “We don’t have many country stations in L.A.,” she explained.

  “Well, who in blazes would want to live somewhere like that?” Hazel Calhoun said. “Country’s the only music anymore that has something to say.”

  From what Charli had heard since she’d been in town, she’d have to agree. She thought about the truck song she’d heard when Reno drove her home from Devils. She liked that and the one she’d heard on his back veranda. Country music talked about loving, and losing, and telling your boss to shove it. It spoke of heartache, and happiness, and how to walk the line. “I heard a song I really liked by George—”

  “King George,” they all said.

  “Bless his heart,” Hazel added.

  Charli couldn’t help but be impressed that someone who made music for a living could create such devotion from those he sang for. But this was Texas. And if Charli had lear
ned one thing about the great state, it was that things grew big there—including hearts.

  One heart in particular interested her more than the rest.

  She lifted her coffee cup, took a sip, and flagged down the waitress to order a slice of that pie.

  In just a couple of weeks, her and Reno’s relationship had gone from growls and demands to a bit of laughter, and even kisses. He’d helped her with her projects even when he didn’t want to. And as much as his hands stayed in the pockets of his jeans, his eyes danced all over her body like he wanted those hands to follow.

  She didn’t know him well, and yet she felt like she’d known him all her life. And while she understood the pain of losing his father and brother, she couldn’t understand why he’d chosen to put a “hands off” sign on his heart. Something else—something beyond devastating—burned inside him and kept him from finding happiness.

  “You bringing anything to the party, dear?” Gertie asked.

  “Absolutely.” Charli dug her fork into the flaky crust of the apple pie and slid the sugary treat into her mouth. Friday night, she had an opportunity to change things up. To make him notice. She was going to follow Arlene Potter’s advice and turn up everything she had to full volume. She planned to bring her secret weapon. Even if she didn’t know exactly what it was yet.

  As much as she’d often wished her upbringing could have been different, she appreciated that she’d been brought up with a military mentality.

  Fight for what you believe in.

  Fight for honor.

  Fight for love.

  And when it came to Reno Wilder, she was prepared to fight dirty.

  Chapter 13

  After a long week of putting in hours at the store, moving cattle, and helping put everything together for the party, Reno was surprised he had any energy left. But as he buttoned up his shirt and set his favorite Stetson on his head, energy zapped through him like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket.

  In past years, he’d offered to help his brothers man the party grill, which often took up most of the evening hours. This year, he’d assigned himself to other projects that might not be so time-consuming. Tonight, he’d decided to take a break and try to enjoy himself for once.

  What had changed?

  Everything.

  Each morning when he awoke, he had thoughts running through his head that were often accompanied by a throbbing erection. Those thoughts always included Charlotte Brooks. Naked. Half-naked. Fully dressed. But mostly naked.

  It had become a habit. She’d become a fever in his blood he couldn’t ease. An itch he couldn’t scratch.

  A dream he couldn’t make real.

  But that didn’t stop the dream from coming night after night after night.

  Stretched out by his boots, Bear gave a colossal groan.

  “Sorry I can’t take you this time, boy.” He bent down and gave the dog a good rub. “You’d either get stomped on the dance floor or lost in the shuffle.”

  Bear’s head snapped up. He whined, jumped to his feet, and trotted out of the bedroom. Moments later, a knock on the door rose above Jake Owens on the radio complaining about some girl only kissing him when she was drunk. In Reno’s mind, that didn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. As long as she knew what she was doing and remembered it the next day.

  And when a man started trying to make explanations for a song, he needed to wake the hell up and get out a little more often.

  He nudged an anxiously wiggling Bear aside and opened the front door. In a flash of orange, Pumpkin dashed inside, took a running nip at Bear’s ear, then disappeared into the back of the house. Bear followed.

  “Would you mind if Pumpkin stayed here tonight?”

  Reno swung his gaze back toward the door and did his best to keep his tongue inside his mouth.

  Standing in the doorway with the waning sunlight highlighting her from behind, stood Charli, in a floaty, short, and sexy sundress. Her dark hair floated down over her slender shoulders and wide, halter-style straps in loose, sexy curls. The creamy color made him think of the famous Marilyn Monroe dress, and he wished for a sudden breeze to lift the fabric and give him a glance at Charli’s long legs. His gaze traveled down the deep-cut cleavage-revealing front of her dress to a pair of red Western boots.

  He swallowed.

  “Would that be okay?” she asked, her lips sparkling with a sheen of gloss. “I mean, I don’t want to intrude. But our dogs seem to have a good time together.”

  His gaze snapped up, and he noticed that in her hands she held a large bowl of something that smelled sweet and delicious. Or maybe that was just her. “What?”

  “Our dogs? Pumpkin gets bored waiting for me up in the apartment. And since I don’t know how late your mother’s party will go—”

  “Late,” he said. “Sometimes the last stragglers don’t leave till sunrise.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s why Mom always holds it on a Friday night.” Damn she looks good. “Gives everyone the weekend to recuperate.”

  “Well, then, do you mind if Pumpkin hangs out with Bear until I come home? I expect to be back long before sunrise.”

  “No problem.” His eyes took another slow ride down her body. “You need a lift?”

  “No thanks.” She flashed him a smile. “I’m picking up Sarah, my assistant, on the way so we can have a little girl talk.”

  “About?”

  “Boys.” She gave a throaty chuckle that turned him inside out. “What else?” With a casual wave, she stepped off the veranda. “See you later, Cowboy.”

  Reno leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and watched her sashay toward the Hummer parked near the barn. She sure had all the right moves. No doubt she’d be the hit of the party.

  Something in his chest gave a hard thump.

  He didn’t like that notion at all.

  When she finally drove off, he closed the door, grabbed his keys, and with a “Behave” threat to the dogs, who were too busy playing tag to care, headed toward his truck.

  The closer he came to his childhood home, the more the cars began to clog the parking lane, and the more he realized he would need to figure out how to keep the male population of Sweet away from Charli.

  He had no right.

  And he didn’t care.

  But if anyone was going to dance with her tonight, it would damn well be him.

  Charli had been to military soirees, Beverly Hills bashes, and Mardi Gras masquerades, but she’d never been to anything like the Wilder BBQ Blowout.

  Jana had said the party was a celebration. An understatement to be sure. Beneath the live oaks, people gathered in groups under multiple strings of decorative lights. In the barn, there were fabric banners in playful colors. Tables were covered with blue cloths and adorned with watering cans full of bluebonnets and sunflowers. Dishes of potluck delights dotted the tabletops with a tasty array of homemade favorites. Charli added her bowl of Chinese chicken salad to the mix, then guided Sarah over to the beverage table, where galvanized buckets were filled with ice, bottles of soda, and sweet tea. Hay bales were strategically placed for folks to gather or kids to use as launch boards.

  When Reno strolled into the barn beside his brothers, Charli caught his eye, smiled, then casually went on about her business like her heart wasn’t about to leap from her chest. Everything about the man made her stand up and smile. Made her feel like there was the possibility of light at the end of the tunnel.

  For so long, she’d focused on survival, then her career. When she thought she’d found love, she’d learned that there were men out there who were less than honest with her and themselves. She had no doubt that Reno was the most honest man she’d ever met. Honest to a fault to be sure. What woman wouldn’t want to be with a man so honorable, so traditional, so loyal? A man so tied to family and friends that he would sacrifice his own happiness.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw him stop, lean down, and hug an elderly woman sitting beside a gen
tleman in a wheelchair. When he rose and saluted the man, Charli’s eyes misted.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Sarah commented.

  “Me either. It’s fabulous.” Charli glanced over the heads of the people in line in front of them. “Someone needs to do a magazine spread on this event.”

  “I can’t believe Mrs. Wilder puts this together all by herself.”

  “I’m sure she has plenty of help. After all, she has three muscular sons here to give her a hand and a fourth who, I’m sure, wishes he were here.”

  “Where’s the fourth one?”

  “Still in the Marines. Deployed, I’m sure, risking his neck so we can party. Kind of makes you feel guilty, doesn’t it?”

  Sarah nodded. “Really guilty.”

  Charli wrapped her arm around Sarah’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want us to feel that way. Not if he’s his mother’s son. I know my father has never regretted a moment he’s spent wearing a uniform.”

  “Still.”

  “Uh-uh, young lady. This is Mrs. Wilder’s way to celebrate. You’re wearing a pretty dress with your hair all fixed up, and you’re even wearing your contacts.”

  “I feel naked.”

  “You look amazing. And I want you to have a good time tonight. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Charli corrected her on the name usage. Tonight was no time for formalities. Charli had something a lot less conventional in mind. With that at the forefront of her plans, she accepted a red Solo cup filled with raspberry lemonade and led Sarah out of the barn and into the festivities.

  Outside, the decorations were just as appealing. Galvanized buckets filled with wildflowers brightened up the wooden fence posts. Colorful piñatas hung from the shady oak trees. And colorful paper lanterns were crisscrossed on rope over a makeshift dance floor. A four-piece band played an energetic tune, with the singer proclaiming all you have to do is put a drink in my hand from atop the bed of a flatbed truck. And the scent of sweet barbecue wafted and curled through the air from an enormous, smoking, kettle grill.

  People stood in groups chatting and laughing, or gathered around long picnic tables snacking on pulled pork, tender brisket, and corn on the cob.