by Meg Benjamin
Yet she wasn’t sure how else to sound. She wanted to keep it light, as if she went out and had sex with gorgeous men all the time. No biggie. Maybe Liam went out and had sex with gorgeous women all the time. He wouldn’t necessarily be impressed with her. Maybe she should pretend not to be impressed with him.
Games? Really? At your age?
Ruth threw up her hands. Obviously, she didn’t know what she was doing and she was a lunatic. She might as well just put on her date clothes and head over to the tavern. Maybe if she saw Liam and reminded herself who he was, she’d be less likely to freak out over whatever was going to happen or not happen during the evening.
You’re not going out with Thor. You’re going out with a fallible human being.
Right. And she needed some reminders of that fallibility.
She dug out one of her more respectable shirts, dark blue silk, along with her best-fitting jeans. Casual, but not too casual, as if she were taking the date seriously, but not too seriously. She even managed to find a pair of leather sandals that weren’t too beaten up.
She paused as she buckled the sandals. When was the last time she’d bought clothes for herself, anyway? She was always buying clothes for Carol, but somehow she never had time for anything else. Maybe she should consider her own wardrobe for a change. Maybe she should spend some time getting herself into shape.
At six thirty, she walked over to the Black Mountain Tavern. The large, dark room seemed mostly empty. A few customers sat in booths at the back and a few more were clustered in the tables at the center. The crowds were probably smaller on weekdays, but this seemed sparse even for a Thursday.
Liam was still behind the bar, pouring a draft beer for one of the waitresses. Ruth slid onto a barstool to wait. When he saw her, his face lit up in a grin.
“Hey,” he called. “Be there in a minute.”
The barmaid departed with two drafts, and Liam ambled to her end of the bar. “I need to stick around a little while longer. The night bartender called to say he’s running late.”
“That’s okay. Is it just me, or do you guys have fewer customers than you usually do on weeknights?”
Liam grimaced. “We only have big weeknight crowds during ski season, but yeah, this is smaller than usual. We’ve got a new guy in the kitchen. That has something to do with it.”
“People don’t like his stuff?”
“That’s putting it mildly. The menu’s been pared down to basics—burgers, steaks, nachos, and wings. He’s even dropped the fried chicken because it takes too much time to cook it right.”
Ruth narrowed her eyes. “We’re not having dinner here, are we?”
“Not on your life. As soon as my replacement arrives, we’re out of here.”
Liam’s replacement showed up around seven fifteen. He nodded at the night bartender, then put his hand on her elbow to usher her to the door.
“Are we running away?” she asked, since they seemed to be moving pretty briskly.
He gave her a quick grin. “We’re leaving a place I don’t like much currently to go to someplace better. Plus, I’ve been looking forward to this all day. Why wouldn’t I hurry?”
“Oh.” She didn’t bother to hide her grin. At least she wasn’t the only one who’d been anticipating this date.
“How late can you stay out? Does the babysitter have a curfew?”
“There’s no babysitter. Carol’s spending a few days at my brother’s place. His wife is feeling lonely, so Brett asked Carol to come cheer her up.”
Liam paused, turning to look at her. “There’s no curfew at all?”
She shrugged a little nervously. “Nope. Just whenever we feel like calling it a night, I guess.”
He went on staring. Then his lips spread in a slow grin that sent a shot of heat from her head to her toes. With several significant stops in between. “Cool. Let’s grab dinner.”
“Okay. What are we eating?”
“The fastest thing we can find.” He caught her hand, towing her along behind him as he headed down the street.
…
Liam wasn’t sure how Ruth had managed to get Carol out of the house. Maybe she hadn’t done it on purpose. Maybe it was all a matter of luck. That wasn’t important. The most important point was that Ruth had the whole evening free. And so did he.
He’d told Bec he wouldn’t be in to work at the brewery that evening. She’d managed to get him to explain why, and her grin made him feel faintly embarrassed. At the time, he hadn’t been sure where the evening would go exactly. Now he had a much clearer idea.
Probably taking Ruth back to his apartment immediately would be a little too obvious. He didn’t want her to think he was entirely devoid of romance. Besides, the things he wanted to do with her required stamina. Skipping dinner wouldn’t be a good idea.
“How about Chinese?” he asked as they rounded the corner. “Jade Garden’s just up the street.”
“Okay with me, but they need reservations sometimes.”
They needed reservations that night, unfortunately. It seemed that restaurants other than Black Mountain Tavern were still doing fine in terms of customers. But then, the Jade Garden’s chef was first-rate, unlike Black Mountain.
Liam stood on the sidewalk, trying to come up with alternatives. The sushi place was a couple of blocks over. And there was always barbeque at the Rusty Fork. He could even manage Italian at the Noodle Haven, assuming they could get in, but the kitchen there frequently took a while getting its entrees out. And he wasn’t up for waiting. Not even a little bit.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asked.
Ruth looked up at him, her eyes almost coffee-brown in the twilight. “We could do takeout. Pizza’s good.”
“Pizza’s great. Capparelli’s?”
She nodded. “I like them. Your place or mine?”
Liam blinked. Was she asking what he thought she was asking?
“To eat,” she added. “The takeout.” Her cheeks flushed pink.
Liam loved the fact that he could make her blush. He intended to work on doing that a lot more later in the evening. “How about mine? It’s just up the street from Capparelli’s.”
“Okay.” Her eyes were still wide, but her expression was resolute. He hoped she wasn’t talking herself into something she might regret later on. But he wasn’t going to back out himself, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to suggest that she might want to.
Fortunately, there was no line at Capparelli’s, although the takeout counter was busy. He ordered something simple and was absurdly grateful when it was done within a half hour, even though he’d spent that half hour sipping a glass of milk stout with Ruth.
He’d managed to clean up his apartment that morning in the hope he’d be able to bring her back there. It wasn’t as classy as the condos nearer the resort, but it had a lot of character, which was a polite way of saying it was a little weird.
Ruth paused on the sidewalk outside the Victorian with its pink siding and maroon shutters. “This is yours?”
“Not all of it. My landlord bought it from a family here in town—they didn’t want to have to keep it up anymore after their grandma died. He put in some additional bathrooms and a spare kitchen and turned it into two apartments, one per floor.”
Ruth stared up at the stained glass fanlight over the front door. “Cool. Which one is yours?”
“The top one. The county clerk rents the first floor. The house tends to be pretty quiet.” Particularly since Liam was the only hell-raiser in the place, and these days he was usually too tired to find any hell to raise.
Something he hoped to change within the next couple of hours.
He ushered Ruth through the door. The only drawback to the upstairs apartment was the hike up a flight to get there, but people who lived in Antero were already altitude-adjusted. Flatlanders usually had to take a break on the landing.
She followed him through his front door, then paused to take in the room. The large windows were origina
l, but the ceilings were a bit lower than the ones on the first floor. Liam was occasionally in danger of braining himself, and he was particularly careful going through doorways.
There were only three rooms, but all three were large—a living room, a combination dining room and kitchen, and the bedroom. His landlord had kept everything simple by painting all the walls a light cream. During the daytime, the mountain sunshine could make everything toasty. During the evening, the breeze dropped the temperatures. He closed the windows he’d left open earlier to air the place out.
“Sorry. No air conditioning, or rather, air conditioning the old-fashioned way. If I leave the windows closed in summer, it’s an oven when I get home.”
Ruth shook her head. “I don’t know anybody who has air conditioning at home around here except the big hotels at the resort. Why bother for a couple of months when the nighttime temperatures are in the forties and fifties?”
“Right. The tourists are always a little horrified, though.”
“Yeah, they’re sure it’s going to get as hot as it does back in Dallas.” She gave him a comfortable smile, two citizens of Antero, shaking their heads at people who lived beyond the mountains. Her dark hair feathered around her cheeks, framing her face in the twilight. Would it be possible to head for the bedroom before they had any pizza?
Knock it off, Romeo. You’re supposed to be civilized, remember?
He dropped the pizza box on the kitchen table. “Let me find some beer and a couple of plates and we’ll be good to go.”
Fortunately, he had some of Bec’s wheat beer on hand. It had been her first production after she’d restarted the brewery, and it was popular. He’d helped her increase the run, and they’d started up the bottling line again. It had been the first solid indication that they were getting back on their feet.
He set two bottles and glasses on the table, then paused. “Sorry, I didn’t think to ask if you wanted beer or wine. I’ve got some red wine in the cupboard if you’d rather.”
She shook her head. “Beer is fine. Especially Bec’s beer.”
He opened the pizza box and lifted out slices for the two of them. “How’s Peaches doing?”
“She’s ecstatic. So am I. We’re pretty much back to where we were when Honoria was in the kitchen. Maybe better. Honoria was a great cook, but she didn’t do much in terms of experimenting. If you gave her a recipe, she could do it, but she wouldn’t search out the recipe herself. Peaches is always trying stuff, and a lot of it works out. Like, next week we’ll start offering the goat cheese brie in a puff pastry shell that people can warm up at home and serve as an appetizer. Peaches put it together in an afternoon. It’s commercial puff pastry, but it still tastes great.”
“Good for Peaches. She never was that happy in the kitchen at the tavern. She couldn’t bake anything there—not even cookies.”
Ruth frowned slightly as she sipped her beer. “Has Stanton given you any trouble over her leaving?”
“No, not really. He questioned me about it, but he didn’t do anything. Stanton doesn’t know what he’s doing, and his main concern is keeping costs down. If you work there, you get used to it. Which is not to say that you like it, just that you get used to it.”
“Do you have to keep working there?”
He paused. This would be the time to tell her about Park City. And he should do that soon. He just…wasn’t ready to admit he was leaving yet. “I’m going to move on to something else soon, but I sort of like Black Mountain. It’s a great location and it used to be a great bar before Stanton took over the lease this year—lots of people to talk to, lots of action. But the new cook he hired is a disaster. I feel like I’m pushing everything behind the bar just to keep people from walking out.”
“I remember when Black Mountain was the place to be.” She grimaced. “Of course, that was back when I was hitting the scene, somewhere around the Jurassic Period.”
“I remember when you made the scene last month—a memorable night.” The words slipped out before he could think.
Ruth stared at him, her eyes widening slightly. Then she gave him a slow grin. “I remember that, too. And quite a scene it was.”
A dozen different scenarios danced through his mind, most of them ending in the bedroom in record time, but by the time he found his voice again, she was looking away. The shadows in the kitchen etched her cheekbones. “You have a beautiful view here.”
“Hard to have a lousy view in Antero. It’s gorgeous everywhere you look.” She was gorgeous, too, but he wasn’t sure how to say it without sounding like he was trying to get her into bed.
Which he was. But he wanted to show a little finesse.
She nodded. “I know. That’s one of the reasons I couldn’t leave. One of the reasons I hung on through all the crap until the Salty Goat got on its feet.”
He stretched a hand across the table, resting his palm against her fingers. “Can I say I’m glad you did?”
She grinned, her teeth flashing white in the gathering dusk. “Sure. I’m glad we all stuck around—you, me, and Bec. Sort of the new Antero generation.”
“God, that makes us sound old.” Liam shook his head. “I swear I’ve never used the phrase ‘in my day’ in my life.”
Her grin faded slightly. “This is our day. Or anyway, that’s the way I see it. This is the day we’ve got to do our thing and make it count. Who knows? We might not get another chance at this.”
Liam’s pulse did a quickstep. “Sounds like a good philosophy to me.” He moved his chair closer to hers, leaning forward slowly, giving her a chance to back out if she wanted to. But he had a feeling she wouldn’t take it. He knew he wouldn’t. A moment before he kissed her, he found himself thinking, This could change everything.
And then, before he could analyze that thought any further, his lips touched hers and he was done for.
Chapter Thirteen
Strangely enough, as soon as she felt Liam’s touch, the nervous tension Ruth had been suffering all day seemed to flow away. Maybe this was what she’d been waiting for, what she’d needed to focus herself again. She brought her hands to the sides of his face, letting the heat slide through her senses, letting herself feel, letting herself wake up.
That was what it felt like, anyway. As if she’d been asleep for a long time, and now her body was beginning to function again.
Liam lifted her effortlessly into his lap. His hands rested at her waist, sliding down to the curve of her hips as he angled his head slightly to let his tongue move into her mouth.
She pushed her fingers through his hair, feeling the thick, silky strands. Her pulse sped up, pounding more loudly in her ears. She sucked on his tongue lightly, moving her own tongue against his, and he hummed in pleasure.
His hands moved up to her breasts, cupping them as his fingers pinched the nipples through her blouse. She pulled back to catch her breath, staring into those hazel eyes as he dropped his hands.
“Okay?” He raised an eyebrow.
She nodded. “Definitely. Very okay.”
He smoothed the hair back from her face, his palms warm against her cheeks. “I waited all day for this. Thinking about it made me a lousy bartender. Here’s hoping I didn’t poison anybody.”
“Here’s hoping.” She licked her lips, trying to get her pulse to slow down again. This being awake business was tricky.
He leaned forward, touching his lips gently to the side of her throat. A jolt of energy swept through her, sending a tingling to her stomach and lower. She laid her hands flat against his chest, feeling the hard plates of muscle under his T-shirt. Everything she touched seemed to send her spiraling higher, heat and light swirling in her belly.
He nipped the skin where her throat and shoulder joined, and she moaned restlessly. The table was a barrier, even though Liam had pulled her into his lap. She wanted to move, but she wasn’t sure how or where.
Liam was sure. He pushed himself to his feet, pulling her along with him. “Doing this next to a kitchen
table takes more coordination than I’ve got. Want to move on?”
She nodded a little jerkily. “Yeah, I do.”
“Okay, we’ve got two choices here. There’s the living room, which has a medium comfortable couch. Or there’s the bedroom. That would be my choice. But I don’t want to rush you.”
Ruth blinked, trying to get her slightly hazy mind to focus. Bedroom versus living room. Was that really a question? “The bedroom works for me.”
He gave her a slow grin. “Bedroom it is.”
One wall of the bedroom held a large dormer window with a window seat and a view of Black Mountain. Liam moved to close the curtains, but she shook her head. “Can we leave it? The view outside is wonderful.”
He turned toward her again. “The view in here is better.”
Her cheeks flushed, one of her more annoying traits. Adult women who had their own businesses shouldn’t blush. Even if the man in the bedroom with her was toeing off his shoes, which seemed like a good idea. She stepped out of her sandals.
He moved next to her, his hands shifting to the buttons on her blouse. She slid her own hands under his shirt, feeling the slight crinkle of hair beneath her fingertips and the jut of his hardened nipples against her palms.
“You’re distracting me,” he murmured. His hands slipped beneath her bra, pushing it up so that he could cup her breasts.
She bit her lip. “Seems mutual.”
“That it does.” He flipped open the catch at the front of her bra, pulling it back and off, along with her blouse.
She reached for his shirt, pulling it up as he moved his arms to help her.
He took her hands then, holding her arms wide to look at her. His eyes looked soft brown in the darkened room. “You are one hell of a woman, Ruth Colbert, if I do say so myself.”
His body was silver in the pale moonlight. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him—the smooth muscles of his chest, with the slight dusting of dark hair, the dark arrow moving down from his navel to the rest of him, still hidden by his jeans. She wanted to strip him naked, to see him whole, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
