Something Sweeter

by Candis Terry

  Dedication

  For the amazing and beautiful Lisa Filipe.

  Because sometimes ­people come into our lives

  and we are just thankful.

  XOXO

  Acknowledgments

  My sincerest thanks and appreciation to the incredibly talented geniuses at Avon Books for helping me put my best foot forward and for making me look good even on a bad hair day: my editor, Amanda Bergeron; Pam, Jessie, Caroline, and Abigail in Publicity; Shawn, Dana, and Julie in Marketing; Tom and his incredible team in the art department for my amazing book covers; and all those who put their hands on my books to produce such an incredible outcome. Thank you so very, very much.

  Over-­the-­moon gratitude to award-winning photographer Greg Lumley, and Ronald and Jennifer Anne Vleggaar for their generosity in allowing me to use their gorgeous wedding photo for this book cover. The moment I saw it I knew it was perfect to represent the romance, fun, and joyfulness I wanted to convey for this story.

  Also, thank you to Lisa Jaramillo and “Earl.”

  Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  An Announcement page to Sweet Surprise

  About the Author

  By Candis Terry

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  Jesse Wilder prided himself on two things: his dedication to his family and that he was the best damned veterinarian in Sweet, Texas.

  Everything else was up in the air.

  Including the fact that in a sticky situation, minding his own business was a total shot in the dark.

  Up until a ­couple minutes ago, everything in his little world had been stable and serene. But as he cut a glare across Seven Devils Saloon dance floor to the woman who had just dragged his soon-­to-­be-­married older brother out for a little country swing dance, all bets were off.

  It was obvious the petite brunette had no clue how to execute the lively dance steps. It was equally obvious that as a former Marine, Reno could handle himself. His brother had been drowning in grief until he met his vivacious fiancée Charlotte Brooks. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d do anything to risk the relationship.

  Still, somehow, the evening had gone haywire.

  Initially, Jesse had agreed to meet up for a quick beer, so Reno could avoid the flurry of females and the wedding-­detail crunch going on at his house. Then the brunette fluff ball blew in and dragged Reno right out onto the dance floor.

  Reno’s Southern gentleman manners prevented him from walking away.

  Jesse had no such problem.

  He might be the best damn vet in town, but protecting his family was his number one job. Therefore, he wouldn’t allow her and her dazzling, flirtatious smile to threaten his brother’s happiness. As the middle child in a family of five boys, he’d struggled his whole life to figure out where he fit within the circle. In the past few years, tragedy had hit their family hard. With each heartbreak, Jesse had been shown not only where he belonged but also the duties he needed to accomplish. After the deaths of his big brother, then their father, he’d vowed to make sure each of his family members found happiness.

  Reno was currently tops on his radar.

  The woman in question was sexy and hot in a compact package. But she was clearly not local. And she had no idea you didn’t mess with Texas—­or an engaged Wilder brother.

  Not while Jesse was around.

  Her long, wavy hair looked to be a shade of rich caramel with a toffee-­colored streak that dangled near her exquisite face like a satin ribbon. At this distance, Jesse couldn’t tell the color of her eyes. He only knew the deep hue drew him in and made him think of making love on a lazy, rainy morning. Definitely one of his favorite pastimes. And definitely something he’d gone too long without.

  Something about the woman’s energy told him she’d have to be taught to take things at a leisurely pace. Not that he minded playing teacher to a willing student, but there was something about the expression on her face, the way she moved, that said she could be more than a handful of trouble.

  For his tastes, she was a bit on the short side, but a man would have to be dead not to notice the way she filled out a pair of jeans. And he, most certainly, was not dead.

  She wore a ruffled little nothing of a top he was sure he could see through if he looked close enough.

  Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

  He ignored the way her arms and feet kept getting tangled up. Instead, he studied the playful smile tilting the corners of her perfectly bowed top lip and succulent bottom lip. A clear indication she was having way too much fun.

  A groan of frustration rumbled through his chest. While he sat on the barstool playing Fashion Police, his brother needed a rescue.

  The powerful rhythm of Miranda Lambert’s “Kerosene” vibrated the dance floor, and the overhead red and amber lights shone down in a hazy inferno. Resigned, Jesse set his bottle of Shiner Bock down on the bar and turned to the bartender. “How about you save these stools for me?”

  Rory McIntire—­Irish by blood, Texan by choice—­grinned. “You coming back with Reno or the hot-­bodied brunette?”

  Jesse considered the female in question and had to agree, she had one smokin’ body he wouldn’t mind taking his time to get to know. And those killer high heels at the bottom of her nicely toned legs? Totally shooting his testosterone level over the red line.

  “Hard to say,” he responded.

  “Don’t know why I even bothered asking.” Rory shook his head. “This is you we’re talking about.”

  Jesse gave him a tight smile.

  Years back, he and his brothers had developed quite a wild reputation. Though they’d never spent a single night in jail for their sometimes risky antics, they had spent a lot of time with the ladies. As much as folks liked to think boys talked, it was the girls, then later, the women in Sweet who’d spun the gossip into a firestorm that was often exaggerated beyond imagination. He was pretty sure he’d never had sex in a tree or on top of a horse before, but he also didn’t bother to squash the rumors.

  It never hurt to be known as a good lover.

  Of course, if he’d done even half the women whose favors he’d been rumored to have partaken of, he’d never get out of bed. The older he and his brothers became, the faster the rumors flew—­most of them courtesy of a very bored community.

  With Reno and Jackson now off the market and Jake in Afghanistan, he’d become the main focus for the hotbed of gossip, the poster child for playboys everywhere. Didn’t matter that he’d served honorable time in the Marines, or maintained his status as a good son, or had become a trustworthy caretaker of poodles and potbellied pigs alike. All anyone in this ranching community cared about was who he slept with and how long it would last. The going bets ranged anywhere from one night to a week. Apparently, a monthlong relationship took imagination past its limits.

  Everyone would be disappointed to learn that the rumors were far-­fetched, and he was far from the town manwhore. Yeah, it was his bad that he let them think what they wanted. Under normal circumstances, he’d never let that happen. Instead, the ru
mors worked in his favor. As long as everyone believed he was a confirmed bachelor, it kept the serious-­minded women looking elsewhere. This allowed him the time and focus he needed to help his family.

  The gossip didn’t make a difference to him or the business he ran, and he supposed there were worse reputations to be had. Of course, his mother didn’t feel that way, and he’d often have to run interference and assure her that no, he didn’t sleep with every woman he met. And no, the reason he couldn’t keep his vet assistants employed wasn’t because he was sleeping with all of them but because the job paid low wages. And often the commute to their little town was too far.

  He’d swear that on a stack of King James’s.

  When everyone in his family was settled, he’d have time to focus on his own future. His own happiness.

  Although, at the moment . . . he tilted his head as the brunette on the dance floor did a sexy hip wiggle . . . he wouldn’t mind putting his bad-­boy reputation to good use.

  A last sip of beer cooled his throat before he headed toward the dance floor. When he came up behind the brunette, Reno speared him with a “What the hell took you so long?” glare.

  In a smooth maneuver they’d perfected back in the day, Reno handed her off. Jesse took her in his arms and spun her off to a corner so his big brother could escape. On the way off the dance floor, Reno gave him an “I’m outta here” signal.

  Jesse nodded.

  He was on his own.

  With a hot little brunette.

  Who looked up at him with “Who the hell are you?” sparks shooting out of what he could see now were smoky gray eyes with flecks of fools gold and whiskey brown flashing in their depths.

  In a blatant disregard of the lively dance steps, he slowed down, pulled her close, and watched a tiny wrinkle appear between her perfectly arched brows. Over the twang of guitars and vocals, he smiled and poured on the Southern charm.

  “Hey there, darlin’.”

  She glanced toward Reno’s retreating backside, then at him again. “What are you, some kind of tag team?”

  He kept his smile in place as he enjoyed the way she fit against him. “Just didn’t want you to waste any more of your time in his direction. In case you didn’t notice, the man has taken written all over him.”

  “I didn’t see a ring.”

  “Women wear the engagement ring. Not the men.”

  “Ah.” She glanced back at the exit, where the exterior neon light shrunk to a sliver as the big door closed behind Reno. Then those smoky eyes came back up with a hint of amusement. “So you’re what . . . his rescue party?”

  “His brother.”

  Her nod was as slight as the way her hand felt captured within his own. “Duly noted.”

  Those fingers with the sexy red nails slipped away, and he had to wonder why that felt like such a loss. In response, and because missing a display of such sexuality would be a sin, he watched her walk away. As she moved across the dance floor, her hips swayed in an easy fashion that spoke of confidence, not arrogance. Sensuality, not desperation. Unlike Lila Ridenbaugh, who’d cornered poor Brian Doolittle and was trying to convince him to be baby daddy number five or six or whatever position she was currently trying to fill.

  As the brunette sashayed back to the bar, he had no choice but to follow. Because really, his mama didn’t raise any dummies. Five crazy-­ass Southern boys? That’d be a big hell yeah. Dumb? Not a single one.

  As they approached, Rory the bartender looked up, grinned at Jesse and his choice of returning company, and set out two fresh bottles of Shiner.

  Judging by her abrupt withdrawal, Jesse hated to admit it would probably take more than an icy bottle of beer to get her to stay put. After all, she’d chosen Reno to dance with, not him. Still, he was willing to give it his best shot.

  As she reached that scarred pine bar, she surprised him by leaning a curvy hip on the barstool and lifting the fresh bottle to her lips. At the sight of that seductive mouth pressed to the rim of the amber glass, a hot and naked image of her pressing her lips to his body leaped into his head. He barely suppressed a groan as he lifted his own bottle and took a soothing drink of the mellow ale.

  She gave a little smile like she knew what he was thinking. And if she was looking anywhere south of his belt buckle, then, yep, his thoughts were probably pretty transparent at this point.

  “So . . .” She turned toward him and leaned her elbows back on the bar, which thrust her ample breasts into the ruffled little nothing of a top for him to appreciate. She flashed a playful smile. “Come here often?”

  “Worst pickup line ever.” He grinned, appreciating the playfulness for what it was. Even if it led nowhere. He raised his bottle of Shiner in a salute. “In this case, it just might work.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a million pickup lines.” A low, sexy chuckle rumbled from that long, delicate throat. “Some I’ve even stockpiled for when I need a good laugh.”

  “Try me.”

  As if preparing for an improvisational monologue, she stepped back, rolled her neck, and cracked her knuckles.

  He chuckled until she jumped into character. Those smoky gray eyes took a slow ride down his body, then inched back up. When she leaned in closer, everything inside him tightened. He breathed in the warm feminine scent that hinted of something sweet and tasty like cotton candy.

  “Do you believe in love at first sight,” she purred. “Or should I walk by again?”

  He was starting to believe.

  “Or how about . . . Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got FINE written all over you.”

  Back atcha, gorgeous.

  “And then there’s always the classic . . .” She slowly dragged her finger down the buttons on his shirt. “If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put U and I together.”

  “Nicely done.” He gave her a small applause.

  “But . . .”

  Uh-­oh.

  “Going back to my first line? It wasn’t meant as a pickup.”

  Color him disappointed.

  “Obviously, in a town this size, you’ve realized I’m not from around here.” Her head tilted as she studied him once more. “I’m looking for a place to have breakfast in the morning.”

  “Since I’m guessing you’re not going to follow up with ‘your place or mine,’ it’s just your luck I’m born and raised in this area.”

  As she took a quick sip of beer, he leaned an elbow on the bar and did a visual slow ride down her body just to keep things even. “I’ve got everything you need.”

  Her lips parted, and her tongue darted out to swipe away a drop of ale. “I’ll bet you do.”

  The air between them shifted into the hot-­and-­heavy zone before he realized he was getting mixed signals. Her words were flirty. Her long hot gazes definitely showed interest. But something deep in those smoky eyes said she wasn’t a hundred percent on board. And since he’d been brought up to always wait for an invitation, he wasn’t quite sure which way to rock this . . . encounter.

  “Nothing finer,” he said.

  She laughed. “And you’re confident, too.”

  He sipped his beer and watched her over the lip of the bottle. When he set the bottle down, he clarified, “Bud’s Nothing Finer Diner. Best place in Sweet for breakfast. They serve up a killer fresh strawberry banana French toast with whipped cream that’ll make you want to lick the plate clean.”

  “Sounds like you’ve enjoyed that once or twice.”

  “Consider me an expert licker.”

  She grinned. “Are we talking about breakfast?”

  “I don’t know.” He grinned back. “Are we?”

  The hesitant half laugh she gave him told him two things. One: She wondered just how good he’d make on his innuendo. And two: She was definitely thinking it over.

  “Well, Mr. . . .”

&n
bsp; “Just Jesse. Folks around here don’t call me mister. And you are?”

  “Just Allie. Folks don’t call me mister either.”

  He laughed and extended his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  The warmth of her skin settled against his palm, and he felt like he’d been hit with a thousand volts. The electricity she threw off sizzled from his hand, zipped through his heart, and rocketed down into his crotch. He couldn’t help wonder. If she had that much energy balled up in just one little handshake, what could she do with the rest of that curvaceous body?

  “Well . . . Jesse, I thank you for the beer.” She glanced down at the rhinestone watch on her wrist. “But I really need to be on my way.”

  “Where you headed?”

  One slim shoulder lifted in a careless shrug. “Just passing through.”

  “And yet you asked about a good place to have breakfast?” He searched her eyes. Even though he found himself drawn in by the flashes of silver and gold, he still found no invitation.

  Her lovely shoulder came up in another shrug, and all he could think was how badly he wanted to lower his nose right into the soft curve of her neck and inhale her delicious, mouthwatering scent.

  When Blake Shelton’s ballad “Who Are You When I’m Not Looking” came over the sound system, Jesse saw perhaps his last opportunity before she blew through the door and back to wherever it was she came from.

  His mother taught him how to be a gentleman. His now-­deceased father had taught him how to treat a lady with respect. His older brothers had taught him how to get laid.

  The brothers were winning on this one.

  He held out his hand. “Then maybe you’ll do me the honor of a full dance before you go?”

  Allison glanced out across the dance floor, then swung her gaze back to the man in front of her, who held out his hand and gave her a smile. She pulled a breath of stale air into her lungs while she considered her choice and him.