by Amy Andrews
The entire town not at the street party would have been tucked up in bed an hour ago. CC had a feeling she could strip off her clothes and walk naked down the middle of the road right now and Credence wouldn’t be any the wiser.
He shrugged. “It never hurts to be careful.”
CC ignored him as she started on her way again. If he thought any woman with five brothers needed a lecture on personal safety, he was crackers. Wade fell into step beside her, and her pulse, which had started to settle, picked up again.
“You don’t have to walk with me.” It was difficult to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other when a large portion of her brain was deep into the logistics of pushing him into the hedge and showing him just how adept she was at taking care of herself. And her needs. “Go back to your friends.”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’m done now.”
CC went to object again but decided to keep her mouth shut. They were less than five minutes away from Casa Del Tara. She was sure she could make it home without succumbing to the urge to jump him.
The hedges of Credence were safe.
So they walked, turning right onto their street, leaving the lights and music behind, the quiet of a sleeping Credence surrounding them. Whether it was the silence or the man beside her, CC was hyperaware of her surroundings. The pool of light below the streetlamp up ahead, the trill of insects, the hooting of an owl, and the rustlings of little things in the undergrowth.
Unfortunately, she was also aware of Wade, too, and how her body was reacting to his nearness. She kept her gaze trained firmly on the path ahead, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. She was attuned to the sound of his boots on the sidewalk and the occasional brush of his arm and how it made her aware of herself. Of the cool play of air around her knees between the fringes of her skirt and the steady thump of her heartbeat as it pressed against all her pulse points. Her temples, her wrists, her abdomen.
The thick pound right between her legs.
How had this unwanted physical awareness of him started? Had farmer porn been the inciting incident? Or had it been less overt? Like him opening up to her about Jasmine? Maybe her opening up to him? Or had it just been the closeness of their dance?
“Do you know who that woman was dancing with Wyatt?”
His voice startled her as it broke the silence and fractured her thoughts. She wasn’t usually the jumpy type, but Wade was making her jumpier than a june bug.
Tonight she just had jumping on the brain.
“Yes.” CC cleared her voice. It sounded too wobbly in the stillness of the night for her liking. “Her name is Jenny. She’s one of the two women your mom and dad are hosting at the farm. She seems really nice, quiet but nice. She’s from Pittsburgh.”
“They seem to have hit it off?”
CC laughed at the understatement. “You could say that.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
CC risked a glance at him. “You guess?”
Wyatt looked happy as a clam. Surely Wade wanted that for his brother? His gaze met hers, and even in the night she could feel the power of it.
“What if she doesn’t want to stay? Liking Wyatt’s only the half of it, right? There’s a big difference between Pittsburgh and Credence, CC. What if she stays for a while and my brother falls in love with her, and she decides one day that she just can’t stand not being able to walk into Macy’s on a whim or hit the nearest Starbucks? Or that being in a relationship with a guy who’s going to spend a lot of his life smelling like hog shit isn’t quite as gosh darn awesome as she thought? What if she’s just setting him up for a whole bunch of heartache?”
CC wasn’t sure if Wade was talking about a potential situation for his brother or the actual heartache that Jasmine had caused him, but the flash of worry she caught in his eyes as they passed under the streetlamp was genuine. He may have been projecting, but he was definitely coming from a place of concern for Wyatt.
“All those things could happen, that’s true. But what if she loves it here?” The night blanketed them again as they stepped out of the pool of light. “What if she starts up a business that’s successful and willingly becomes an integral part of the town? What if Wyatt and Credence and the farm fill her up and give her joy and purpose?”
CC could see Jenny was smitten. This afternoon, just stepped off the bus, Jenny had looked tired and five years older. Tonight, she’d practically glowed.
“None of us are guaranteed a happily ever after, Wade.” She knew that better than anyone. “It doesn’t mean we still shouldn’t strive for it. Or take a risk on it.”
CC wasn’t sure if she was talking about Wyatt now, either. Wade certainly hadn’t let any woman close, taken any risks since Jasmine.
He huffed out a sigh. “Yeah…yeah, I know. I hope for his sake it does work out.”
“Me, too.”
“It’d be good to see Wyatt settled. I think Mom and Dad would love to see it, too. Maybe they might even finally get those grandchildren Mom keeps bellyaching about.”
CC laughed. “Your mother would be an awesome granny.” She’d only had one grandparent growing up, her maternal grandmother, who had died when CC had been about six years old. She didn’t remember much of her, just a little gray-haired old lady, hunched in a chair.
Wade grinned. “Memaw, please. In great Southern tradition, she will be called Memaw. As my grandmother was and her mother was and her mother before her.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “And on it goes.”
CC laughed harder, but there was a strange hollowness in the pit of her stomach. She’d always figured she’d have kids one day, but at thirty-two she guessed time was running out. Had Wade ever thought about kids? She could just imagine a mini Wade with a cute little lisp calling Ronnie Memaw.
She blinked at her sudden train of thought. She was thinking about Wade’s kid? She’d given Wade’s kid a lisp?
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Snap out of it!
“It’s hard to imagine your mom being a Memaw. She seems so young.”
There. That was better. Normal. Sane. No imaginary kids with imaginary lisps.
“Yeah, Dad’s heart thing notwithstanding, I think they’re pretty good for their age.”
A sigh slipped from CC’s lips. “It was nice to see them dancing. You’re lucky to have parents that love each other.”
CC wasn’t sure why she’d added that little extra observation. She certainly hadn’t planned to. It had just slipped out. They passed under another streetlamp, illuminating their faces, and Wade’s expression was searching as he looked at her before the dark swallowed them up again. It was warm with empathy, which caused a stupid lump in her throat.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I know.”
Seeing a couple still so happily married after forty years, seeing them express that love and closeness in public, was a novelty for CC. One she couldn’t get enough of. How she’d yearned as a kid to have parents like Ronnie and Cal—loving and affectionate. Parents who went to things, who turned up together, who laughed and touched and enjoyed each other’s company.
CC still remembered the ball of anxiety that had blazed in her gut whenever her parents had been in the same room. Her father politely indifferent, her mother weepy and fanning herself like some delicate Southern belle.
He didn’t say anything else for a beat or two, and CC’s nerves stretched in the silence. Was he gathering himself to ask more about her family? She hoped not. Her emotions were a little too raw right now.
“I’m surprised Mom let him dance at all,” he said eventually, as if sensing, like he had the other night, her desperate need of a subject change. “He’d dance all night if it was up to him, but she’s still trying to get him to take it easy.”
“He’s been given the all-clear though, right?” she asked, her brain returning to the conver
sation.
“Yeah. Cardiologist is happy.”
Another circle of light illuminated the white wrought iron fence of Wade’s house. “Home sweet home,” he said with a flourish and bowed as he opened the gate for her, indicating for CC to precede him.
CC laughed at his use of the word home. She was getting used to living in the monstrosity of a house, but she wasn’t sure it’d ever feel like home. Had it felt like home to the woman for whom it had been built?
He crammed his hat back on his head as she brushed past him and started down the path. The faint squeak of the gate shutting indicated he was following. She walked under the giant portico, the sensor light detecting her movement and flooding the vast area in white light. She’d traversed the four steps and was inserting her key in the front door when Wade joined her.
“Listen,” he said as she coaxed the old lock, which needed a bit of a jiggle and a certain tongue position before it would admit anyone. “Thanks for helping my mom with this whole thing.”
The lock gave, and the door opened, but CC wasn’t paying it any attention as she quirked an eyebrow at Wade.
“I thought you were annoyed that I was spending all that time on your mother’s crazy-ass scheme to pimp out strange women to the bachelors of Credence. Or words to that effect.”
He chuckled, unperturbed by having his sentiments thrown back at him. “I may have been exaggerating for dramatic effect.”
CC gave a soft snort. “Ya think?”
“I was wrong.”
She shook her head. Wade’s ability to apologize had always been his redeeming grace. He was man enough to own his mistakes.
“Who knows…” He shrugged. “It might just work.”
“Could I have that in writing?” she asked sweetly.
He grinned down at her, the deep grooves bracketing his mouth adding an extra layer of sexy, and CC’s breath hitched. Just as suddenly, though, his smile faded, and his gaze grew serious as it trekked north and zeroed in on her bangs.
“CC…” He put up a hand in a stopping motion. “Stay. Very. Still.”
CC froze. “What? Why?” Adrenaline surged into her system as Wade’s hand slowly moved toward her hair. Keeping her head still, she looked up, trying to see what he was seeing even though part of her did not want to know.
“Wade,” she hissed. “What?”
“I think you collected a spider when you were parlaying with that hedge.”
A wild surge of fear cramped through her diaphragm. Spider. Jesus, she hated spiders.
“Don’t move.”
Despite wanting to jump up and down, shake her head, and brush wildly at her hair like a mad woman, screaming, “Get it off, get if off,” she doubted she was capable of moving.
She turned her eyeballs upward again, suddenly seeing in her peripheral vision what Wade was seeing. The creep of skinny legs traversing her bangs like the spider was already setting up house.
“Oh God, get it off!”
He chuckled as he stepped closer, his fingers at face level and descending unhurriedly. Heat poured off his body, but CC was oblivious to everything but the frantic beat of her pulse rushing like a waterfall through her ears.
“Is it big?”
“Nah. It’s only a baby. It’s quite cute, actually.”
Cute? She glared at him. Or as much as she could with her head straight and her eyes practically rolled back in their sockets, trying to monitor the progress of her unwanted arachnid visitor.
CC clamped her teeth together. “Get. It. Off. Me.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, yeah.”
He slid a hand onto her nape. Probably to stop her from taking matters into her own hands and doing the wild, hand-flapping spider jig, which every primal instinct she possessed was urging her to do.
CC shut her eyes tight as he reached for the uninvited creature with his other hand, not wanting to watch as a live spider was plucked from her hair. The thought of having to touch it herself gave her the heebie-jeebies, and she was grateful Wade was volunteering.
Even if it was his fault she’d ended up in the damn hedge.
She felt a light brush against her forehead and squeezed her eyes even harder, tensing everything so tight she doubted she’d have been able to squeeze a credit card between her butt cheeks.
“Is it gone?”
Another chuckle, the warm fan of his breath on her face. “It’s gone.”
CC slowly opened her eyes and unclenched, Wade coming into hazy focus, looking at her with amusement sparking in his gaze.
“I didn’t know you were an arachnophobe.”
She’d already told him tonight he didn’t know everything about her, and she wasn’t going there again. Besides, his closeness, his intense gaze, the way his thumb was stroking at her nape was more than enough to deal with at the moment.
Her heart was beating entirely differently now. He was so big. She was so used to seeing him, to being around him, she sometimes forgot how big he was. Hard to ignore the span of his chest from this close, though.
She should be moving away. She knew that. In fact, somewhere her wiser angels were telling her just that—screaming it at her, actually. But his stubble and the sexy indents around his mouth and the softness of his lips were dangerously fascinating.
Their gazes meshed for a beat or two, and she couldn’t look away as his dropped, drifting to her mouth. As if he was going to kiss her. The stroking of his thumb halted, and they just stared at each other. They stayed so still for so long the sensor light went out, plunging them into darkness again. CC’s breath grew thick as the night surrounded them, her body throbbing with awareness and need.
“Cecilia,” he whispered.
And that was enough. In a blinding flash, CC threw out caution and almost six years of professional boundaries, rose on her tip-toes—and kissed him.
He met her halfway, their lips clashing in a frantic mash, opening wide, tasting and searching and demanding everything from the other. It was no tentative starter, no teaser, no slow and steady. It was on fire from the first touch of mouth on mouth, and it was far sexier than anything he had done to her in her dream life.
He tasted better, his body against hers felt better, he smelled better and he sounded better, groaning deep in his throat. She felt that groan all the way to her toes and every hot spot in between. His spider-catching hand slid onto her hip, hitching her closer as the hand at her nape held her fast.
The movement must have tripped the sensor, because the portico flooded with light again, and it was like a bolt of lightning had hit them, repelling them from each other, forcing them apart, forcing them two steps back.
CC gasped in horror. Holding her hands up in front of her, she contemplated what the hell had just happened as her heart beat a wild tango in her chest. It was no consolation that Wade looked just as stunned.
What had she done? She’d kissed Wade. And he’d kissed her back. This was not good.
Not. Good.
Wade recovered first, taking a step toward her. “CC—”
“No.” She shook her head, taking a step back, her hands up higher now, almost level with her ears. Whatever he was going to say, she couldn’t deal with right now. Her cheeks were flushed, and she was hot all over.
Sweet baby Jesus! He was her boss! And she wanted to die.
“I’m so, so sorry…”
CC desperately tried to come up with some justification for her actions to follow her apology. Like being in post-arachnid shock or temporary possession by the devil. But nothing—not even the clear and present need for exorcism—justified crossing the line she’d just crossed. The line that she had drawn all those years ago.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice calm and placating, as if she was some kind of incendiary device primed to go off at any second.
CC shook her head veheme
ntly. How could he be so damn composed? How was kissing him ever okay? God…she just wanted to hit the erase button.
Yes. That was it. The erase button. Or the next best thing.
“Do you think,” she asked, locking her gaze with his, “it might be possible to never speak of this again?”
If they couldn’t erase it, they could at least pretend it had never happened, right?
“Sure.” He nodded, his voice still placatory. “Whatever you need.”
What she needed was a time machine, but this would have to do. “Thank you.”
Then she turned on her heel, shoulder checking the door open as she hurried inside, her shaky legs carrying her up the stairs and into her bedroom, where she burrowed under the covers and curled into a ball.
Sweet mother of pearl. What had she done?
What. Had. She. Done?
Chapter Fourteen
Wade was still kicking his ass as he sat it down on a stool at the bar. He hadn’t planned on coming to Jack’s, but staying home hadn’t appealed after what had happened. The semi-dark and the smell of hops were far preferable.
The bar was jumping tonight, with many of the street party-goers obviously deciding to keep the night going. The booths were full, and what looked like an impromptu line dancing lesson was going on over by the jukebox. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen this many women—single or otherwise—at the bar, and he was pleased he’d switched out his Stetson for a ball cap.
Everywhere he looked, there were women with pink drinks decorated with little umbrellas. City chicks. If they thought this blur of noise and color was Credence, Colorado, they were going to be left bitterly disappointed when the dust settled.
His anxiety kicked up another notch. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about, what with losing his mind and kissing CC.
God knew how many workplace laws he’d broken. How many sexual harassment suits he’d opened himself up to. Not to mention how badly this might screw up his chances of getting CC to stay on as his PA now he’d done the one thing he’d promised he’d never do.
