Something Sweeter

by Candis Terry

  Cheeks flushed, she plopped down on a nearby bench beneath the shade of an ancient live oak. He lifted the lid of the grill, stepped back from the wave of smoke, and slathered the brisket with another splash of sauce.

  “So you want to let me in on the reason for the party?”

  “No.” A grin spread across her face. “And don’t you keep asking, or it will ruin the surprise.”

  He laughed. “I’m not sure my heart can take any more of your surprises.”

  “It’s all going to work out just fine, son. Martin’s a good man, and he’ll take good care of me.”

  “Hope so. I’d hate to have to break his legs.”

  “I’ll admit . . .” She chuckled. “He is a little intimidated by all you boys.”

  “Good. At least we’ll keep him honest.”

  “I have no doubt.” She brushed a leaf from her shoulder. “How are things going with you?”

  He closed the lid on the grill. “The clinic has been pretty busy. Spent last night waiting with Ms. Meyers for Dandelion to foal. Got herself a pretty little filly.”

  “Well, that’s nice.” She looked up and squinted against the late-­afternoon sunshine. “But I’m not talking about your work.”

  “Then what?” As if he didn’t know.

  “You’ve got two brothers getting married. Figured your time should be coming up soon. Any prospects?”

  He didn’t stop the laughter that rumbled from his chest. “I think you need to admit that I’m probably going to be the eternal bachelor.” He couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease her even though he knew someday he hoped to be lucky enough to have a wife and family. “You know, like Chester Banks?”

  “You are nothing like Chester!” Her face flushed, and her eyes sparked. “That man’s been married too many times to recall. Don’t even know how he made it into his eighties without one of those wives shooting him right through the heart.”

  “Yeah.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Don’t sign me up for that.”

  “Love is out there for everyone.” She stood and gave him a hug. “I never thought I’d find it again after your daddy passed. He was the love of my life. Always will be. But I don’t want to go through the rest of my days alone and lonely. Martin and I have a lot in common, and we have a healthy respect for each other. And for marriage.”

  “I just want you to be happy.”

  She reached up and gently patted his cheek. “Right back atcha, my beautiful boy.” Then she tugged his ponytail. “Which reminds me. Maybe you should get a haircut before I have to start calling you, my beautiful girl.”

  He chuckled, knowing he’d been long past due for a haircut. Amongst other reasons, the long hair was just one of those little things he did to keep his family fussing at him instead of each other.

  At the sound of tires on gravel they both turned to see Martin Lane’s big blue dually truck pull up in the shade of the barn.

  “Oh goody!” His mother’s high-­toned enthusiasm shot Jesse’s curiosity into WTF mode. “The surprise is here!”

  He shaded his eyes with a raised hand to get a better look until his mom grabbed him and pulled him toward the truck. “Come on.”

  Everyone halted the party preparations as the truck idled, and the passenger-­side door opened. One heavy boot stepped out onto the gravel drive. A big man dressed in desert camo followed. And a collective gasp rolled throughout those gathered.

  “I didn’t fly halfway across the world for all y’all to stand there gawking at me.” A familiar smile broke across the man’s face, and he opened his arms wide. “Bring on the hugs.”

  A rush of exhilaration shot through Jesse’s heart, and he smiled.

  Little brother Jake was home.

  With the exception of Annie, everyone rushed to gather him back into the fold, including Charli, who’d never even met him before. After an animated round of “Oh my Gods” and “It’s so good to see yous” they stepped back to give him air and allow their mother to touch his face, make sure he was okay, and shed a few happy tears. In the midst of the joyful reunion, the slam of two truck doors closing was barely noticed.

  When the dust settled, Jesse looked up to thank Martin Lane for bringing his brother home. The smile on his lips died.

  Standing beside Martin was none other than the hot little brunette who last night had turned the tease dial up to full volume just before she set her sexy red high heels on sprint.

  Reno leaned in, and murmured, “Isn’t that the—­”

  “Yep.” Jesse folded his arms and tried not to laugh when her eyes met his in startled recognition.

  “What the hell is she doing here?” Reno asked, echoing Jesse’s own thoughts.

  “Looks like we’re about to find out.”

  “Everyone?” Martin’s voice filled with pride as he announced, “I’d like you to meet my youngest daughter, Allison.”

  Daughter?

  As Martin began the individual introductions, Jesse and Reno looked at each other, eyes wide.

  In unspoken words, holy shit, became the understatement of the year.

  Breathe.

  Beyond the huge ranch-­style home, the enormous barn, and the tall oak shade trees, Allison didn’t have far to look to find the source for her sudden racing heart. He stood about ten feet away—­tall, blond, and stunning with his hair pulled back into an untidy ponytail and a hint of beard stubble dusting his masculine jaw. He wore a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of jeans with specific and infinitely interesting areas worn to a faded blue. His muscular arms were folded across what she knew was a rock-­solid, mind-­blowing, want-­to-­lick-­it-­up-­one-­side-­and-­down-­the-­other chest. And the boots on his big feet were planted in the soil as if claiming his territory.

  Though it seemed impossible, the man looked even tastier in the daylight.

  Unfortunately, the steady scowl on his face was a clear sign that while all her girl parts might be buzzing at the mere sight of him, anything male inside of him—­and she guessed there was a whole lot—­was still a bit miffed that she’d pulled a fast one on him in that parking lot last night.

  She’d had no choice.

  She wasn’t usually a woman who had trouble saying no. But if she’d have leaned into his kiss a bit further, tasted him a little more, inhaled his warm, male scent just a smidge longer? She’d have been toast. There hadn’t been a possibility in hell that her lips would have formed the letters n and o.

  Dragging her gaze from the blue-­eyed glare shooting bullets in her direction, Allison took a quick glance at her surroundings. The large ranch-­style home’s open veranda had been made inviting by the addition of wooden rocking chairs and colorful pots of red geraniums with trailing purple and white alyssum.

  The huge, weathered barn and the horses moseying about in a nearby corral finished off the reality that this was an authentic working ranch. Beneath the canopy of a large tree, extralong picnic tables had been set with colorful cloths and dishes in a fashion she could imagine on the cover of a country-­lifestyle magazine.

  Maybe the goat and the little orange poodle playing tag was a bit unusual, but other than that, the entire place had a welcoming atmosphere.

  Except perhaps for the firing squad of Wilders waiting to make her acquaintance.

  With one of her more professionally affable smiles, she tuned her ears in to her father’s enthusiastic introductions.

  “Sweetheart,” he said to her, wrapping an arm around the most seasoned female in the crowd. “This is Jana.”

  What the woman lacked in actual height, she made up for in big blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a warm smile. Her simple jeans and button-­down floral blouse were a complete 360 from anything Allison’s own mother would wear. A woman who, with her five consecutive marriages and divorces to men each more wealthy than the l
ast, refused to wear anything unless it bore a designer tag from Nordstrom or Neiman Marcus. A woman who depleted vast portions of her divorce settlements for the series of nips and tucks she believed would keep her young.

  Jana Wilder had pleasant, soft features that hadn’t been subjected to needle or scalpel. The crow’s-­feet at the corners of the blue eyes said she laughed often.

  Allison extended a polite and friendly hand for a formal greeting to her potentially future stepmother and let out a squeak when the woman pulled her into a tight embrace.

  “Welcome to Texas, sugarplum.”

  Allison wished she could share in the excitement of her father’s recent engagement. But she couldn’t. Not yet.

  Once she unraveled from Jana’s enthusiastic greeting, her dad guided her down the reception line while she tried to figure out how to avoid the man at the very end.

  “You’ve already met Jake,” her father said.

  Like the rest of the men gathered, Jake Wilder was mouthwatering. And, as she’d learned on the thirty-­mile ride from the airport to Wilder Ranch, he was always ready with a flirtatious smile and a humorous story.

  With a hand firmly grasping her elbow as if given the chance she’d run, her dad continued down the really long line of really good-­looking ­people. “This is Jackson, a firefighter in San Antonio. His fiancée Abby, who’s recently opened an animal-­rescue center. And Fiona who was once married to Jackson. She’s moving to Sweet soon and plans to open a cupcake shop.”

  While the women all gave her a friendly hello, Allison couldn’t help but be fascinated. Ex-­wife and current fiancée? Interesting.

  “And this cute little muffin . . .” Her father picked up an adorable little girl with golden ringlets and a shy smile. “Is Jackson and Fiona’s daughter, Isabella. Or, as we call her, Izzy.”

  Allison adored children. While part of her wanted to run off with Izzy and play dolls just to get away from the awkwardness of meeting potentially new family members, she managed a simple hello.

  A quick glance between Fiona the ex and Abby the new told Allison that any obvious animosity was absent. Hopefully, that worked well for little Izzy. Being the child of combative, dissociated parents sucked. Allison knew that sad story only too well both in her personal and her professional life.

  Her father then gave a hug to a beautiful and very pregnant young woman. “This is Abby’s sister Annie, who just moved back to Sweet from Seattle.” Farther down the line, her father said, “And this is Reno and his fiancée Charli. You might recognize Charli from My New Town, the cable TV show she hosted.”

  Allison didn’t have much time for boob-­tube viewing, but Charli’s smile was infectious and did a lot to put Allison at temporary ease. The slight frown on Reno’s handsome face tempted her to say they’d already met, but she would never be one to instigate ill will between an engaged ­couple. Even if she believed that the marriage in which they were about to embark had a slim chance of survival.

  A quick glance at the three sets of happy ­couples, all of whom appeared to be utterly in love, gave her pause. She’d been witness to too many “happily ever afters” that were doomed from the start. And she wondered how many—­if any—­of these pairs would actually make it for the long haul. Thus her entire reason for coming to Sweet in the first place. Her dad had already suffered one devastating end to a relationship; she didn’t want to see him have to endure another.

  She’d made the trip to Texas to figure out the specifics of his sudden push to tie himself to a woman he’d just met. Allison might not have been around to pull back on the reins of his disastrous engagement to her own mother, but she darned well wouldn’t stand by now and let him make another grievous error.

  The end of the greeting line came up way too fast, and she found herself face-­to-­face with Mr. Gorgeous.

  “This is Jesse,” her father announced. “Our resident veterinarian. And like the other boys, a Marine.”

  “Former Marine,” Jesse politely corrected her father.

  The intensity of his blue eyes flipped her stomach as she extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  A smile brushed those chiseled lips as their palms met midair. The instant heat felt like she’d been zinged by a bolt of lightning. Electricity snapped between them, and her mind went right back to last night when she’d had to crawl inside her rental car so she didn’t crawl all over his big, muscular body.

  “A handshake instead of a hug?” One sexy slash of brow lifted. “That’s not how we do it here in the Lone Star State, darlin’.”

  With the ease of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, he gathered her in, and both of those strong, muscular arms went around her. Flashes of dancing within those arms and against that chest the night before zoomed back. And just like the night before, unwanted desire pinged through her system.

  In that brief moment, with their bodies pressed together, she knew she’d have to put up every guard, every fence, every barrier she could find to keep her hands off the merchandise and her heart locked up nice and tight.

  “Award-­winning performance,” he whispered against her ear. “You always that good at faking it?”

  The innuendo hit its mark.

  Sometimes, when a girl met a new guy, she knew immediately whether she’d have to fake it or whether she’d get the real deal. Everything about Jesse Wilder shouted “satisfaction guaranteed.”

  With as little fanfare as possible, she extracted herself from his hold. “In Seattle, we usually just say hello with a cup of coffee or a flying fish.”

  “Proof that everything’s bigger and better in Texas,” he drawled.

  “Would you like a tour of the ranch?” her father asked.

  She tore her gaze from the challenge in Jesse’s eyes and snapped her head around to look at her dad. “What?”

  “Perhaps Jesse could give you a tour while the rest of us finish getting things together,” her dad clarified.

  “Oh. No. That’s okay, I—­”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Jesse interjected.

  “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “Nonsense,” her father said. “Southern hospitality. Right, Jesse?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Lane.”

  “Martin.” Her father’s smile drooped a little at the corners as though that hadn’t been the first time he’d had to remind the handsome Mr. Wilder to address him in a more informal manner.

  She took a closer look at Jesse and recognized a hint of stubbornness in the dark blue depth of his eyes. Maybe she wasn’t alone in the not being jump-­up-­and-­down-­happy department at her father and Jana Wilder’s sudden engagement announcement.

  Sensing that any argument she might want to broach would land on deaf ears, she raised the proverbial white flag.

  “Before I do anything, I need to let my dog out of the car.” She turned toward the gas-­guzzling blue truck her dad had bought to replace the Prius he’d driven in Seattle. Jesse, of course, followed.

  “Your dog?”

  She nodded. “Wee Man.”

  He stopped in his tracks and a puff of dirt kicked up from beneath his well-­worn cowboy boots. “Your dog’s name is Wee Man?”

  She stopped too and jammed her fists on her hips. “What’s so funny about that?”

  “I’m sure it’s not funny to your dog.” He came closer, and she had to look way up. God, she hated being short.

  “Were you trying to give him a complex?” he asked. “Or do you just have a problem with men in general?”

  Was that fire filtering from her nose? Because she certainly felt some dragon spikes popping out on her fingers. Too bad she had an audience and most likely wouldn’t get away with sinking those nails in his strong, tanned throat.

  “He’s a little dog. There was no diss intended.”

  “Then shouldn’t you have called
him something like Brutus, or Kong, or Maximus?”

  She yanked open the truck door. As if he wore springs on the bottom of his paws, her energetic Jack Russell terrier jumped out and trotted off toward the closest tree. When he lifted his leg, she could almost hear his Ahhhhhhhh. “Does he look like a Maximus to you?”

  “No.” Jesse smiled. “But he is cute.”

  Somehow, the word cute coming from such a masculine mouth just seemed odd.

  “And a little overweight,” he said. “You might want to change his food.”

  “My dog is not overweight.”

  “So you’re the expert?”

  “No.”

  “Well, too many years of college and several degrees tells me he’s got some pudge on.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Smarty Pants. I’ll make a note of it.”

  He laughed as he bent at the knees and made a kissy sound toward her dog. She smirked. Wee Man wouldn’t have anything to do with strangers. He was a one-­person dog. Dedicated. Loyal. He’d never . . .

  Allison refrained from dropping an F-­bomb when Wee Man took one look at Jesse and ran right to him, smiling and acting all wiggle-­butt happy as if the man were a lifelong pal. She expected them to do the whole high-­five, knuckles-­to-­paws bump thing, but Jesse simply picked up her dog and held him against his broad chest. Wee Man, disappointingly, slurped the shadow of a beard dusting his chin.

  “That’s odd. He usually doesn’t like ­people he doesn’t know.”

  “I’m a vet.” Jesse grinned up at her.

  “He hates his vet.”

  “Then you’re taking him to the wrong person.” He gave Wee Man a little rub across the top of his head, then set him down. Her dog took off like he owned the place—­sniffing here, whizzing there. And then he spotted the poodle. Yikes.

  “Wee Man! Come back here.”

  “Pumpkin’s safe.” Jesse laughed. “He’ll be fine.”

  “What about the goat?”

  “No worries. Miss Giddy’s more of a lover than a fighter.”

  “The goat has a name?”

  “Of course. The goat is Mom’s pet. Mom has also been known to name the lizards and hummingbirds too, so—­”