by Jillian Neal
“Everyone who’s known me since I was four calls me Kit-kat. Keith and I were Heath and Kit-Kat to most everyone. Like the candy bars. Get it?” She rolled her eyes.
“While I agree you do taste like candy, other than that, I don’t get it.”
“Keith was my twin. Sophie is two years older than us. She couldn’t quite pronounce our names when we were born. Her K’s sounded like H’s. So Keith was Heath and she only managed Hat-Hat out of my name. A few years later we had our first Halloween candy. There are pictures of me covered in chocolate because, well, I love all things chocolate and I always have. I ate it all as soon as I got it.
“Even when he was four Keith was perfect, so he saved all of his candy and never ate more than one piece a day. Heath bars were his favorite because my dad told him stories about how they used to be in soldier’s ration kits in World War II, so he saved those for very last. I guess it just stuck. It even makes sense if you think about it. He was tough and hard to break. I was fragile, already mostly broken.”
Grant swore right then and there if he ever got the chance to meet her shit-stick of a father he’d put his fist through the asshole’s face. What the hell kind of man let his daughter go on believing she was fragile?
“That’s a bunch of bullshit right there,” he huffed. “You ain’t fragile, and you sure as hell aren’t weak. Takes a whole lot of strength to walk out on some ass-kisser just before you’re supposed to walk down the aisle. Takes a hell of a lot of guts to run away with some dimwitted cowboy you barely know, too. And just thinking about you keying that shit wagon’s car makes me want to figure out how to draw your little hellcat side out in the open ‘cause it sure is right there under the surface. Has to take a heap ton of guts to face up to losing your brother and not let it end you. I stand by what I said, you’re probably the bravest person I know. So, tell me this, what is your favorite chocolate bar, Katy-Belle? ‘Cause it sure as hell ain’t a Kit-Kat.”
She stared at him like he’d just sprouted an additional head or had suggested they turn around and head back to Lincoln. Silence extended between them. Grant couldn’t quite figure what was going on in her head.
“You’re the only person who has ever asked me that. Everyone always just gets me Kit-Kats.”
“I told you. When it comes to you, I pay attention.”
“I don’t want to pick just one. Sometimes I like Butterfingers. Sometimes I’m craving 3 Musketeers. And if I’m really PMS-ing, I dunk Reese’s cups in peanut butter. Now that I think about it, can we just pretend I didn’t admit that out loud?”
Chuckling, Grant shook his head. He wished he could snap his fingers and get past this ridiculous introductory stage. They had enough heat and enough lust between them to go on and get the awkward shit out of the way. She had no reason to be embarrassed with him. “Because you figure I’m dumb enough to think you’re the one magic female on the planet that don’t PMS? I still got that old knapsack I used to sleep on when I first moved into my house. I can take it out to the barn if it gets too bad.”
“Very funny, but you’re not dumb, Grant. I just can’t seem to keep from saying whatever pops in my head when we’re talking. The whole thing is insane. I’m crazy attracted to you, but I still haven’t officially ended it with Seth. I’m going to stay at your house. We haven’t even been on a date yet. Now, I’m telling you about PMS, but as long as I’m going to keep talking, you might as well know, if you keep me supplied in Reese’s you probably won’t need your knapsack.”
“Good to know.”
“It’s just strange how we talk like we’re going to date seriously.”
“Some reason we ain’t?” He didn’t like her thinking like that, not at all.
“We just met.”
“Have I done something that’s a deal breaker or something?”
“No. You’ve been completely amazing. Stubborn, but amazing. You might get me out to wherever we’re going and decide you don’t like me. I’m not much of a cowgirl.”
“That ain’t how the Camdens work.” Well, shit. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one who said stuff they’d intended to keep to themselves for a little while longer at least.
“How do the Camdens work, then?”
Now was definitely not the time to go off announcing that the Camden men—and women, according to his sister Holly—met their one and only and knew it from the moment they laid eyes on them.
“I don’t want nothing to do with a cowgirl so you can forget about that right now.” Mildly impressed with his ability to dodge, he waited to see if she’d let it go.
Her bottom lip slipped between her teeth as her brow furrowed in debate. He held his breath and nudged the accelerator a little harder, desperate to get her to the ranch and to escape this particular line of questioning.
“I take it the girl who cheated on you, the one who got married yesterday, is a cowgirl.”
Relief raced through his veins. “Don’t matter what she is or was. Someone else has all of my attention and I don’t think that’s gonna change.”
“How are you so sure about me? Assuming I’m who you’re talking about. Otherwise I’m extremely self-centered.”
“You’re sure as hell who I’m talking about and I know ‘cause I know. I live by my gut. Always have. Always will. Gut’s never steered me wrong.”
“What about your cheater?”
“Yeah, well, I was listening to another part of my anatomy with her. My gut didn’t like her from the start. Probably why I didn’t really let it sting too bad when I found out somebody else was warming her sheets. Same problem with Macey, I expect.”
“I’m oddly jealous and a little put off that the other part of your anatomy isn’t as enthralled with me.”
“Oh, trust me, sugar, that part likes you real good. Believe you felt that when we were on the couch. I’m happy to show you again anytime, though. You just say the word.”
“And what word should I say, cowboy?”
“’Saddle up’ works just fine. ‘Take me. Make me wet. I want you. I need you.’ Let’s see here, oh, how ‘bout ‘fuck me so hard I can’t walk, Grant’. That’s ‘probly my favorite.”
God, he loved making her blush. Streaks of heat painted her face and neck, settling in seductive roses in her cheeks. Those adorable little freckles that played peek-a-boo most of the time made an irresistible showing.
Every fiber of his being needed to see her naked in his bed. Exposed all for him. He gripped the steering wheel tighter, lest he pull the truck over, the police be damned. He’d show her just how enthralled he was with every part of her. She had nothing to worry about. He’d never wanted anything the way he wanted her.
He longed to show her just how wild and dirty good girls could be when they were with a man who knew how to guide them, knew how to strip away any pretenses that made them believe they didn’t deserve the pleasure he could give.
Those baby blue eyes narrowed. Her cheeks were still ablaze. “Think I’m going to go back to the way the Camdens work for that comment.”
“Get used to hearing all of that, peaches. Plan to make you say it quite often. And how ‘bout we go tit-for-tit on the Camden thing. I’ll tell you what you want to know when you tell me something I want to know.”
“I believe it’s tit-for-tat.” She giggled.
“Yeah, but I like tits way better than tats, so I like it my way.”
“Very funny.”
“I thought so.”
“I told you about why people call me Kit-Kat so you tell me the Camden thing,” she tried negotiating.
“Nah, see, that ain’t how tit for tit works. We didn’t make the deal ‘til after you told me about you being as sweet as a candy bar so it don’t count.”
“How about if you tell me how the Camdens work, I’ll let you play with my tits.”
“Tempting as sin, sweetness, but I figure you’ll let me play with ‘em anyway.”
“And how do you figure that?”
“’Cause,
baby, I seen the way you lit up in my arms, remember? And I know how to give you what you’re needin’. I’d dare say you ain’t been with a man who can show you and teach you what you’re really wantin’.”
“But you’re sure you know what I want.” Her scoff irritated him, but not half as much as her eye roll. Redhead through and through. Oh, he’d show her. Come hell or high water or whatever might be headed their way, he’d prove himself right on her account.
“Try me,” he challenged.
“Tell me how the Camdens work.”
“Tell me what happened to your brother.”
“No.”
“Then no.”
“My God, you’re stubborn.”
“Right back ‘atcha, peaches.”
Hesitant sunlight danced just behind a windmill in a postcard scene. Kaitlyn started to snap a picture with her phone, but was certain Grant was accustomed to seeing sunrises like this and would think she was silly.
She’d never been so far west. Before that moment, she’d been certain sunrises over the skyline of New York City were the most beautiful thing she’d ever witnessed. She’d loved the energy of the city, but this was entirely different. Contentment pervaded the prairies, turning them from indigo to a dusty orange. As if the land had been awaiting the sunrise after the storm and was finally assured it was on its way to ease the turbulence of the day before. When it made its way into the cab of the truck, she saw Grant ease back in his seat. An involuntary smile formed on his features.
His ease calmed her frayed nerves. Her entire body responded to his. Before she allowed herself to think thoughts about him being her sun, or perhaps the moon to her ocean, she called herself stupid and turned her cell phone off instead of snapping a picture. She had no reason to believe that her father wouldn’t call in favors to have her tracked. She’d check to see if her sister had called her later.
They had to be almost to Wyoming. Maybe. Geography wasn’t her best subject, but she felt like they’d been driving for hours.
Popping the crick out of her neck, she watched for other hallmarks of ranch land, anxious for reassurances that they were far away from Lincoln and everything the city held. His ranch had to be close. All markers of city life felt foreign to this untouched landscape. An entire lifetime away, she wished. The last small town they’d passed had been at least twenty miles back.
“Are we almost there?” Her curiosity was getting to her and he’d gone quiet again, back to communicating in grunts, after her refusal to tell him what had happened to Keith. Maybe one day she could find the words to explain to him that talking about Keith’s death made it real and she simply couldn’t allow it to be real again until life settled down.
“Anxious, sugar?”
“Kind of.”
That earned her a genuine grin. She caught herself staring at his lips again. They were flawless. She’d been reading lips since she was a toddler. Everyone’s were a little different. Some thin and almost non-existent, others full and lush. His were the perfect shape, masculine and full. Another hungry rush surged in her belly. Thoughts of kissing him still made her weak with need. The remnants of guilt over not yet officially talking to Seth released her with every mile Grant put between them. Seth was the asshole who was pressing charges against her for his car. Grant was right. He’d deserved much worse.
“We got a few miles yet ‘til we’re in Pleasant Glen. Ranch’s ‘bout five miles down a dirt road off the other end of Main Street. We’ll cross the tracks in another mile or two.”
“I’ve never seen so much land. It’s beautiful out here.”
When he grunted his agreement, she giggled.
“What are you laughing at?” he teased.
“I’m learning to distinguish your grunts. Not sure if I’m speaking cowboy-language or just Grant-language, but I’m proud of myself.”
“You should be. And you’ve been speaking my language ever since you ate my hitch with the front end of your car. I don’t want you learnin’ any other cowboy’s speakin’.”
“Possessive and stubborn. Interesting.”
“Interesting good or interesting bad?”
“I’m not sure yet, and for a girl who’s had her whole ridiculous life planned out for her from the moment she was born, I can’t tell you how freaking exciting that is.”
There. He wanted honest, wanted her to tell him something she’d never tell anyone else. Well, that was more honest than she’d been in years, with anyone including herself.
“You still not gonna to tell me about your brother, are you?”
“You going to tell me how the Camdens work?”
This time there was a grunt of consideration. “Maybe if I let out a little rope while I ride I’ll catch a filly.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“A filly’s a female horse, sugar. First thing we’re gonna do when we get there is give you ranching lessons.”
“So, I’m a horse?”
“I don’t know. Gotta see how you ride, first.”
“Do you ever think about anything but sex?”
“Not when you’re sitting two feet away from me smelling like strawberry candy and looking even sweeter. I’m strung tight, sugar.”
Still unable to believe that he would readily admit whatever he was thinking, Kaitlyn was certain her cheeks were going to be permanently stained red. “It’s my lotion,” she babbled to try and cover her embarrassment at his admission. “I wear a different flavor every day. Seth hated the strawberry scent. Probably why I wore it yesterday.”
“Interesting.”
“Interesting good or interesting bad?”
“Both. Good, in that you clearly couldn’t stand him and looked for most any way you could to annoy him. That makes me happier than a bull in a field full a’ heifers in heat. Also means you probably won’t lose much sleep over him, and he sure as hell don’t deserve you suffering on his account. Also good, ‘cause I don’t much like other men thinking they have some kind of claim on my girl and it remains to be seen how much of a pecker-sore Seth’s gonna be. Bad in that somebody or something convinced you to go on with the engagement, and I don’t like whatever or whoever did that at all. I’d say it’s ‘bout six in one half dozen in the other.”
Kaitlyn found herself giggling again. “You have a very colorful vocabulary, cowboy.”
Another grunt.
“And I like the way you sound when you talk.” Okay, Kaitlyn not a normal thing to say. People who hear properly do not say things like that. She needed to get the hell out of his truck or to locate some kind of tape to stick over her own mouth. “So, I’m your girl already?” There, surely that would cover up her bizarre assessment of the tone of his voice.
“If you wanna be. I don’t mind courtin’ you either, though.”
“Courting me? Apparently, your truck is some kind of time machine, which makes hiding out from the cops way easier.”
“If you don’t hush your sassy mouth, I won’t be able to say welcome to the Glen ‘cause we’ll be out of it in about another two shakes, seeing as it’s gotta be the smallest town in the great state of Nebraska.”
Kaitlyn turned to study the shops they were passing. Railroad tracks ran along the left side of the truck. She noted trees down along the road. The storm had tracked through this town as well.
The church on her right was larger than the grocery store nearby, but didn’t appear to be able to hold more than 200 people. One of the large windows of the grocery held a poster of a silhouetted bull rider. ‘PBR Champion Austin Camden to ride in the Western Nebraska Stampede Rodeo’ was printed at the bottom of the sign. “Is Austin Camden related to you?”
“If you meet a Camden in the Glen, peaches, they’re related to me. Austin’s my younger brother.”
There was a CVS, a feed store, and an old gas station after that, and then something called The Cut ‘n Curl. If Grant had confessed that his truck was indeed a time machine she probably would’ve believed him. The littl
e town didn’t appear to have changed much in the last sixty years.
The weakening glow of neon lights as they sun rose alerted her to a decent sized bar on the other side of the tracks. The sign in the parking lot declared that Saddlebacks Honkytonk Bar and Grill had live music on weeknights when they could get a band. Kaitlyn’s brow furrowed. The brick surrounding the sign had the Pleasant Glen United Methodist Church insignia on it. “Is it a church or a bar?”
“Oh, that, yeah, that’s the bar. Church is across the street. See, the preacher belly-ached just fore they passed the plate each week ‘til we all up and bought them a big enough sign to get a bible verse on. Ed Olsen, he and his wife Eliza, own Saddlebacks. Ed’s so cheap he’s still waiting on the bible to come out in paperback, so he up and decides he’s gonna use the church’s old sign to advertise for the bar since they were throwing it out. The Ladies Aid society ‘bout gave birth to four bulls a piece, horns and all, when he put the original slogan for the bar on the church sign so he went back to advertising the music.”
“What was the slogan?” Kaitlyn swore then and there she would love nothing more than to spend hours just listening to him talk about life in this tiny town.
“It ain’t all that original. He probably stole it from some bar in Dallas or Sheridan or somewhere.”
“Well, I still want to know what it was.”
“Liquor in the front, poker in the rear.”
“Sounds like something you would say,” she laughed.
“Definitely two things I’d do, not sure if I’d say ‘em or not. Depends on if you like dirty talking or not, peaches.”
Before she could think of a comeback, they turned down a long dirt road. Trees were down along either side and the gravel appeared to have been scattered in several places. The buildings in town hadn’t suffered any damage that she could see, but the winds here must’ve been bad.
“That ain’t a good sign,” Grant sighed.
“Have you talked to your parents? Is your family okay?”
“Pops called ‘em and told ‘em we were on our way. I was trying to get you out of town quick-like. If anybody had been hurt, they would’a told Pops, but I don’t know how the corn or the cattle did.”
