He rinsed it. Dried it. “Fear, maybe? I don’t fucking know.”
I reached for the next plate.
“Maybe I worried you’d think I was a creeper if I said, ‘Guess what? I’m part of a pilot program between the armed forces and the Veterans Administrations medical personnel. I’ll be living in Phoenix and attending school here the next two years. Is housing available in your neighborhood?’” His laugh resembled a groan. “Which could actually be considered a death wish since your dad warned me against stalking you.”
I whipped my head toward him. “You talked to my dad? When?”
He draped the dishtowel around his neck and rested his butt against the counter. “You refused to see me when you were sick. Then after he happily informed me that you’d gone back to Phoenix, I…was a little pissed you’d left. So I demanded he hand over your address and phone number, and well, you can imagine how that went over.”
“What did he do?”
Boone’s cheeks turned pink. He brought his clasped hands on top of his head like a suspect under arrest. That movement caused his T-shirt to ride up.
My gaze zoomed to the hard ridges of his abdomen and a tease of dark hair that disappeared into his waistband. His silence had me peering over at him, half-afraid he’d seen me checking out the map to his treasure trail.
But his eyes were closed. “He gave me the address to your office and told me what floor you worked on.”
“I can’t believe my dad just handed it over.”
Boone looked at me. “Not until he passed on three articles of what constitutes stalking behavior. And not until I…” He emitted an embarrassed laugh. “Not until I told him I’d let all the bad-tempered McKays beat my ass in public if I ever did anything to hurt you.”
“What?”
“Yeah, that was my brilliant idea to prove my sincerity or whatever. I just didn’t expect him to take me up on it and actually make me sign a fucking contract.”
I had to have misheard him. “You signed a contract. With my dad. Allowing my family to beat you up…?”
“If I ever harmed a hair on your beautiful head.”
“Boone. Why would you do that?”
Then those soulful brown eyes were close enough I could discern flecks of gold. “Because I want a chance to get to know you and for you to get to know me, so we can see where this goes.”
“And if it doesn’t go anywhere?”
His expression said he didn’t buy that at all.
Neither do you.
Boone touched my face, so sweetly, so tenderly I couldn’t breathe. “Please. Think about it.”
After what he’d told me? About how he’d talked to my dad before all this happened? How could I not? I managed to choke out, “I will.”
Relief passed over his face. “Thank you.”
“You’re really here, in Phoenix, for two years?”
“Yeah. I’m working at the VA and I’ll be taking classes. Some of the details are still vague—and that’s not me being vague, that’s just how the government works. So, see? I have no idea why I wouldn’t just tell you that.” He tugged at the strands of hair that stuck to the corner of my mouth and tucked the hair behind my ear. “Does knowing I’ll be here longer than two weeks change anything?”
I managed to keep from blurting out “Yes!” and said, “We’ll see.”
He continued to caress my cheek as he locked his eyes to mine. “I’ve had your face in my head for so long…imagining what I’d say if I had the chance. And now that I’m right here in front of you, I can’t come up with anything more original than you’re just so damn beautiful, Sierra.”
“It’s safest to stick with a classic.”
He laughed. “I am happy to see that smart mouth hasn’t gone all PC.”
“Oh, it has. But that’s a business thing. When I’m not in a suit and heels representing DPM? All filters are off, baby.”
Boone was close enough I felt the press of his lower body into mine. Close enough I saw the rapid pulse in his throat. Close enough if I stood on my tiptoes, I could taste those full lips. Close enough if he lowered his head just a little, he could taste mine.
Step back! Step back, step back, step back. You are supposed to be thinking about this. Not tossing caution aside because he paid you a compliment. Step back and retain some dignity.
I cleared my throat. “Boone?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you dial it down some?”
He frowned. “What?”
“Lower the wattage of the intensity that is Boone West.”
He took a big step back. And another. Then he turned away to rest his hands on the top of his head again. He blew out a breath. Now his T-shirt rode up in the back, giving me a peek at the curve of his spine above his hips. Nice. Very fucking nice.
Stop ogling him.
When he turned around I had to pretend I hadn’t been checking out his ass. And damn near drooling at seeing his T-shirt pulled against the muscles in his back. How had he achieved such ropy forearms? That was some serious sexy right there.
“Let’s finish the dishes.”
It didn’t take us long. We didn’t fill the air with chatter but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. More contemplative.
The guys whooped and hollered in the den and Boone and I looked at each other.
“I’m too damn restless to sit still.”
“Me too.”
“Come on, I have an idea.” He clasped my hand in his and we exited the patio door and entered the garage. He flipped on the lights and headed toward the rack of sports equipment.
“What are you doing?”
“There’s a basketball hoop out back. Let’s shoot baskets.”
“I love doing that almost as much as I love Greg’s junior assistant calling me during lunch.”
He stopped in front of me. “When was the last time you played?”
“Like fifth grade. Why?”
“Bet you thought boys were gross in fifth grade. Bet you thought you’d never kiss a boy and never ever ever kiss with tongues.”
“And your point is?”
Boone grinned at me. “Everything changes. If you haven’t actually tried messing around with a basketball, how do you know you won’t love it?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. Did he intend for that to have a double meaning?
“Try it. If it sucks we’ll stop. Then you can watch me draining three pointers and dunking in an effort to impress you.”
“I don’t have the right shoes.”
He glanced at my flip-flops and shrugged. “We’re not playing one-on-one. It’s stand and shoot. You’ll be fine.”
“Boone, I don’t—”
He loomed over me. “Work with me here. There has to be something that’d get you out on that court.”
My hormones launched a mutiny and seized control of my mouth. “You could take off your shirt.”
He blinked at me in utter surprise. Then he said, “Done. Let’s go.”
On the court, he grabbed the edges of his shirt and slowly lifted up, exposing his flat abdomen, then that fan-fucking-tastic chest. As he faced me, he granted me a look that ignited a slow curl of heat in my chest and the flames licked lower…and lower.
“Sierra.” He drew my name out in a honey-coated rasp. “Dial it back.”
Shit. I closed my eyes. I shouldn’t have asked him to take off his shirt.
Gee. Do you think?
“Pay attention to how I’m shooting.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Thud thud thud echoed off the cement as Boone dribbled. Then he pivoted and launched the ball at the hoop.
Swish. He made it.
Afterward, he sauntered over to me. “Your turn. Do exactly what I did.”
“Including the weird pivot?”
“Including that.”
I didn’t dribble the ball. I carried it to the place where he’d stood.
“Gotta dribble.”
Mine was a double dribble
for sure. Then I pivoted and threw the ball over my head at the basket.
It hit the side of the house.
Boone raised both eyebrows. “Interesting technique.”
“Thank you. Where’d you learn yours?” He didn’t play sports in high school. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have the skills to play. Working two jobs had left him little time for normal teenage pursuits.
“Army. Ends up being a bunch of downtime and there’s always a basketball court. The black guys loved showing us up. Except…they didn’t all of the time.” He pointed at me. “You missed so you have an H. My turn.”
“I think those rules suck.”
“What do you suggest?”
“Uh, that we don’t play basketball?”
He laughed. “Nice try.” He hustled to center court. “Watch closely.”
How could I not? He had his damn shirt off. I could spend all day drooling over his chest. All day, and night, and part of the next day.
Dribble, dribble, dribble. Jump.
Swish.
Dammit.
I stormed to the middle. “Gimme the ball.”
“Hey, not so fast.” He dropped the ball between his feet, then he crouched down. “This is supposed to be fun. We used to have fun together, remember?”
“Because that wasn’t organized fun.”
“Really. The McKay/West project we worked on for three fucking months wasn’t…organized?”
I couldn’t help but smile at him. Then I poked him in the chest. “Stop ruining my example with logic.”
“Do you really want to quit playing?”
“What else would we do?”
His gaze slid over me. “I have a suggestion, but I guarantee it’ll peg the intensity meter.”
“I might choose that over this.”
“Jesus. Don’t get my hopes up, McKay.” He moved to stand behind me. “Maybe you just need a few pointers.”
Then his arms came around me, but he held the ball out in front of me. “Watch my hand position. Up and out.”
“Always? For the best result?”
“I don’t get what you mean.”
“Variables. Isn’t that a thing?”
“You mean, like a field condition?”
God. Stop with that sexy rasp in my ear.
“How about we just concentrate on you making this one shot?”
My breathing turned choppy. He had to feel the increased movement of my chest rising and falling with the way my back was pressed against him.
“Power comes from here.” He squeezed my arms with his. “Tighten your core, that’ll keep you stable.”
Stable. I was starting to come unhinged. And the core part of me that tightened wasn’t my damn abs.
“Hold the ball. Dribble a couple of times and then shoot.”
Boone stepped back and I almost crumpled into a pile. The man was such a powerful force. Once again the universe proved the joke was on me. I’d asked him to tone down the intensity. But this playful, helpful, goddamn sweet side? A hundred times worse. As I stood there, clutching a ball, I understood that I had no defense against this man. None. A good offense wasn’t even a good defense.
“Concentrate, Sierra. You can do this,” he said in a “yay team!” pep rally kind of voice that I never in a million years imagined I’d hear from Brooding Boone West.
That was the last straw.
I whirled around and whipped the ball at him. “Who are you?”
When he peered over his shoulder with a smirk, all cute-like, I wanted to punch him. Seriously. How was I supposed to resist this?
You can’t. More to the point: You don’t want to.
“What is going on with you?” he demanded.
“I don’t know!”
“Well, who am I supposed to ask?”
I might’ve snarled at him before I stomped into the yard where it was dark and I couldn’t see his chest dripping with sweat, or hear that rough voice in my ear, or feel his hard body pressed behind mine or wonder why I was even fighting this.
He shuffled across the grass and stopped behind me, so close his exhalations drifted across my hair. He said one word. “Talk.”
“I don’t know what—”
“Look at me, Sierra. Talk to me. Not into the damn air.”
I faced him. “Fine. I want to talk about new rules.”
“New rules. When did we have old rules?”
“Before. Unspoken ones.”
Boone studied me. “What the fuck are unspoken rules?”
“You know. Before. When we were friends. We hung out. We ripped on each other’s choice of music. We argued about TV shows. We heckled each other’s favorite movies from the 80s—”
“Again with all the negativity, McKay,” he said with annoyance. “We had some of the same favorite movies like Top Gun, The Princess Bride and The Terminator. But I’ll never understand what you saw in Dirty Dancing because that one is just plain stupid.”
“You want to talk stupid? How about Blade Runner?” I shot back. “This is what I’m talking about! You complained when it was my turn to pick a movie and I acted like you were a grumpy pain in the ass. You pretended not to notice that I had a massive crush on you.” I took a breath. “Those rules.”
“Those weren’t rules,” he scoffed. “But whatever. New rule.” He bestowed that dangerously devilish grin. “No rules.”
I put my hand on his chest to push him back. “Stop being cute!”
Just like that, he did.
Boone flattened his palm over my hand on his chest. He dropped his other hand to my hip, spreading his fingers out and squeezing my flesh; the erotic intimacy nearly liquefied my bones. Then he upped the ante and pressed his warm, firm lips to the base of my jaw. “Truth between us, Sierra. I’m not the cute couple guy. I’ll always be intense. Especially when it comes to this. Especially when it comes to you. I’ve wanted you for too fucking long to pretend it’ll be anything less between us.”
I slid my hand across his chest to feel the increased pounding of his heart and felt my pulse race in response. “It’s always been like this. I didn’t imagine it, did I?”
“No, baby. You didn’t.”
The interruption from Kyler calling out our names was probably for the best.
Boone stepped back. He brought my palm to his mouth for a soft kiss. “We’ll pick this up later.”
Later tonight? Later this week? When?
By the smirk on his face, he knew exactly how much he’d flustered me.
Not with the admission of the need between us, but that he hadn’t indicated a time when we’d have another chance to act on it.
Ky had done me a solid, interrupting at that moment.
I didn’t have much willpower when it came to Sierra, probably because I’d had titanium-coated resolve during our friendship before and things were different now.
Very different. She’s the one who’s holding back, not me.
I sent her a sideways glance. She’d wrapped her arms around herself as if she was cold. Thankfully I’d slipped my shirt back on before I’d followed her across the yard, or this might look more like an interrupted hookup.
“What have you two been doing?” Kyler demanded. “It’s almost halftime and you haven’t watched any of the game.”
“Gimme a break. I was cooped up inside all day. We’ve been out here shooting hoops.” I pointed to the basketball by the goalpost. “Why?”
“I saw the basketball. I just didn’t know where you guys had disappeared to.”
“Sierra thought she saw a kitten run across the yard and we went to check it out.”
She snorted beside me.
“Are you coming in to watch the second half?”
“Who’s ahead?”
“Denver. Seven to zip.”
I looked at Sierra. “You sticking around?”
“I think I’ll head home to call my dad so he and I can commiserate about the game in real time. See what my roommate has going on this week
.” She raised an eyebrow at Ky. “Want me to leave the food?”
“You have to ask?”
“I will have to take a brownie to Lu.”
“I hope Mase didn’t eat them all,” Ky grumbled.
Back in the kitchen, Sierra said to me, “No bullshit about your housing situation. Do you need me to refer you to a Realtor?” as she sliced two brownies.
“You ditching me as a client, McKay?”
“You weren’t ever my client, West.”
She had that same piece of hair stuck to her mouth. I loosened it and tucked it behind her ear. “If you’d pass along a name, that’d be great, but it’s pretty much impossible for me to look at anything this week.”
“Why?”
“I’m in training. Once they’ve worked with me a few times, they’ll have a better idea where to utilize me. I do have some…limitations.”
“Such as?”
“Such as, I choose not to be a charge nurse. There’s more paperwork. I don’t do med carts for the same reason. I’m great at the heavy lifting. I end up being the go-to guy for IVs since I’ve done so many. I’d rather be on the floor taking care of my patients than dealing with staffing issues so I’ll skip the management track.”
Sierra smiled at me and fuck if I didn’t just eat it up.
“What?”
“I love to hear you say ‘my patients.’ It is obvious you love what you do, Boone. Any hospital is lucky to have you.”
I felt my neck heat. “Thanks.”
“Although, you did jam that needle in my ass a little harder than you needed to.”
“Bull. You were feverish. Everything is more amplified, including pain.”
“No.” She tapped her chin as if deep in thought. “I clearly remember you offering to kiss it and make it better.”
“Now I know you were delusional. I’d never even joke about that. It’d be highly unprofessional.”
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’d been wishful thinking on my part…me telling you to kiss my ass.”
I hooked my arm around her neck and ruffled her hair until she squealed. Christ. When had I reverted to a twelve-year-old boy?
But she didn’t look like she’d minded. In fact, she wore the cutest smile. One I’d seen a lot during our “friend” days.
I smoothed her hair back in place as an excuse to touch her. “In all seriousness, can we find some time to see each other?” I traced the edge of her jawline with the backs of my fingers. “Maybe toward the end of the week?”
Unbreak My Heart (Rough Riders Legacy Book 1) Page 10
