by Lynn Carmer
“I can’t tell you. The drive won’t take too long.”
They meandered through the base of the San Gabriel Mountains until they came upon a dusty sign hanging over a dirt road that read: Rusty’s House.
“Oh God. All I see is dirt.”
He laughed and hopped out of the truck, swinging the gate open. “I wanted to give you a taste of Texas. In California. Get ready. It’s going be the date of your life.”
“It’s not a date.”
“Oh yes, ma’am, it certainly is. It’s in black and white. Surprise date, Sebastian Jacobs, guaranteed fun,” he said and winked.
“Not. A. Date.” She narrowed her eyes.
He laughed out loud, not intimidated in the least. She tried to be tough, but he saw the light dancing behind those knowing eyes.
As they drove across the bumpy road, her mouth dropped and her eyes grew wider. His hard-core belief that she would love the mountain house and the dust, began to wane. Slightly. Once she saw the crowd, the party atmosphere, she’d understand the place was much more than rocks and dirt.
He pulled up to the crowd. Smokers and barbecues littered the wide field. Picnic baskets, and red-checkered blankets were strewn about, while a few trailers housed thirty-inch televisions, all blasting the football game. There was even an artificial snowmaker pumping out fake snow for the kids. They had a blast, rolling and sliding in the white flakes.
Sebastian opened the truck door, and Ai shrank back into her seat. He grabbed her hand and helped her down from the high truck.
“In Texas, there are four seasons: winter, summer, spring, and football.” He pointed toward the hundred or so milling along rolling hills. “It’s not all about the cows. It’s about the tailgate.”
She hung back, and he saw the light fade from her eyes.
“You have to taste the pulled pork. These smokers are amazing.”
“I’m good. I’ll stay back here.” She dragged her feet, her smart face closing down.
“Taste the pork. It’s to die for.”
“Where?” she asked, but didn’t look up.
“Right here.” He pointed to the smoker by the edge of the large group of people milling about.
Ai nodded, and slowly walked toward the cooker.
“This is the date? A bar-be-cue?” It was hard to read her face. She had gone completely blank.
“It’s a tailgate. We all get together for the game.” He hooked his thumbs in his jeans. “But don’t worry, I have a few surprises up my sleeve.”
“Um, Sebastian. I don’t—”
“Sebastian!” A man called.
“Bas.” Another man.
“Sarge! Where you been? We’ve been waiting on ya.” And another.
Sebastian waved and walked toward his friends, greeting everyone. But when he turned to introduce Ai, she had veered off toward the side of the house, toward the snow. “You guys are going to have to excuse me.”
“Hot date?”
I thought so.
He walked over to Ai as she studied the screeching kids. She looked lost in thought, and he wondered for the thousandth time how she saw her surroundings. As an artist, would she look at the world completely differently?
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She didn’t answer so he put a hand on her shoulder and she jumped. “Hey, are you—”
“I can’t do this.” She shook her head. “I need to go.”
“Go? What do you mean? We just got here.”
She pulled out her phone. “I know. I’m sorry. Don’t worry. You stay. With your friends. I’ll call a ride share.”
“You think there’s going to be ride share way out here?” He threw his hands up.
“I can’t do it.” She backed away from him, swiping at her phone while her eyes glazed over.
“Ai. Hey, talk to me. What happened in the last five minutes that changed your mind?” He looked around, half convinced someone must have said or done something to her. “Are you hurt? Did someone say something to you?”
“No. No, of course not. I’m going. Now.”
Chapter 7
‡
Breathe. Breathe, Ai. You can do this. Don’t let the panic get the best of you. She fought against the pressure on her chest, trying to suck in air, but it didn’t seem to be working. Her hands tingled yet felt numb. She kept squeezing her fingers, hoping to regain normal sensation.
“Ai, you’re okay.”
“Do you think it’s possible to have a heart attack in your twenties?” She felt around her wrist, feeling a steady thump against her fingertip. Then she realized she was checking for a pulse which told her nothing.
I’m not a doctor!
Her heart beat out of her chest, pounding so loud and so heavy, she felt rocked by each thump.
“Ai. Listen to me. You’re not having a heart attack,” Sarge had obviously snapped into policeman mode, his tone soothing and calm.
She didn’t like it. It made her feel even crazier. “Stop talking like that,” she wheezed.
“Like what?” He blinked in surprise.
“Like I’m a five-year-old having a temper tantrum. Heart attacks are real and can strike at any time.”
“I’d never think that. Let’s figure it out together.” He led her over to a shady bench. “Sit and tell me your symptoms. I bet you a hundred bucks it’s not a heart attack.”
“Hell no. You bet me the price I paid for this date. Six hundred bucks. I should at least make back my money before I die. Right here in the dirt.” She wished she were joking, but it felt like a rhinoceros had copped a squat on her chest.
“Ai, talk to me.”
“Okay,” she wheezed. “My heart is attacking itself. I can’t breathe. I feel so…anxious, kind of like I’m going, ‘coo coo for cocoa puffs.’ Which makes no sense,” she whispered. Why even say these things out loud? They made her sound extra loony.
“And what brought it on?”
“Hay fever? I don’t know.” She stood, fully intending to run. “I saw all these people, and my heart freaked out. Does there have to be a reason for it?”
“Do you have a history of heart disease? Have you had problems with your heart before?” He stepped in front of her, blocking the crowd from view.
“No. Never.”
“I think I know what it is.” He nodded.
“What?”
“You’re having a panic attack.”
“The hell I am. I don’t have panic attacks,” she muttered, “That would be totally embarrassing.”
“I do have a solution,” he crowded in. “You want to hear it?”
She looked up and up, his rugged face the one thing she saw. The only thing she wanted to focus on. “No, please. Let me continue to suffer.”
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” He leaned in and brushed his check against her.
Shivers erupted down her spine, taking her focus away from her runaway heart.
“You trust me?” he asked.
God, yes. Why had that thought come so quickly? “I’ll do anything to stop feeling this way.” His earthy scent surrounded her, drowned her in its rugged spice. She wanted to strip her clothes off and wallow around in it, in him.
His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks and the side of her hair. The rhythmic pass grounded her, centered her as she waited for each soft brush. His piercing gaze drifted down to her lips, and he stared, not rushing, as if waiting for permission.
Her eyes drifted shut and she acquiesced, leaning toward him, asking for the contact. A second later, his warm lips pressed against hers. Gentle, dotting presses that stole her breath. She opened her mouth to breathe, and to invite him in. The first brush of his warm tongue sizzled. It gave her a jolt she felt down to her toes.
She perceived nothing but him and the soft glide of his tongue. No matter how much she craved more, he maintained the soft touch. Until she burrowed her hands in his short hair, pressing her breasts against his broad chest.
He sucked in a breath, and the floodgates opened. He gave her the intensity she needed, the release of all the anxiety and worry of the day. Tongues tangled and teeth banged.
It was the best kiss of her life.
“Sebastian. Get the hell over here! The game’s about to start.”
He pulled back with a reluctant groan. “Be there in a minute,” he called over his shoulder.
Ai came down from her heels with a thump. She hadn’t realized she’d been up on her tippy toes. Reluctantly, she untangled her hands from his hair and stepped back.
He crowded back in, “Tell me you felt that.”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She touched her trembling finger to her lips. “That was—”
The crowd whooped. Opening kickoff. The shouts saved her from answering.
“This was the worst date idea ever. No privacy,” he grumbled.
His genuine discontent somehow made her happy and feel a little more normal. Her heart calmed as she collapsed back on the bench.
“How are you feeling?” He sat next to her.
“A little better.”
“Happens to the best of us.” He held out his hand. “Squeeze with all your might, and I bet it’ll pass in a few minutes. But don’t look at those people. Look at me.”
She squeezed her eyes tight, and held onto him with a death grip. She relaxed the tiniest bit when she heard him grunt in pain. Served him right. Gradually, her heart rate slowed and air returned to her starving lungs. He’d been right—about the kiss and the panic attack.
I hate being wrong. “Stupid panic attack.” It had never happened to her before. Low level anxiety affected her, but she usually mitigated things before they got to this point. Not this time. Sarge’s friends, along with her absolute lack of social skills, had done her in. Her heart slowed, but she kept her eyes shut. No need to face the man who would undoubtedly think she was crazy. And weak.
Plus, she’d practically begged him to kiss her. In the space of fifteen minutes, she’d lost all street cred.
“I will take cash and checks, Venmo, Bit coin…PayPal, even.”
“If you tell Dacey, I will kill you.” She flipped open her eyes and stared him down, a look that usually withered people on the spot.
“I am so gonna tell.” He laughed out loud.
She wanted to collapse back in a lump, all the adrenal left her body in a rush. Plus, she couldn’t take the warmth in his blue eyes.
“I’m not above blackmail.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” She tightened her hair. It had slumped to the side of her head, again. No matter how she styled it, her bone-straight mane never cooperated.
“No cop. No crime.” He laughed again.
“You’re the cop. There’s the crime.” Damn, he was sweet. And handsome. And so sexy, even in cowboy boots. Way to fuck it up, Ai. Time for damage control. This fantasy date was a bust, thanks to her and her mental meltdown. How to live down the shame? She couldn’t do it. “Look. This is my fault.”
“What? A panic attack? It’s nothing.”
“No, this.” She twirled her hand around herself and then at the crowd. “I obviously am unable to cope with whatever you have planned. I better go home.”
“This the first time it’s happened to you?”
“Yeah. I don’t do well in big groups, but I’ve never completely freaked out.”
He nodded. “I could tell you weren’t yourself the other night at the auction. Were you feeling it then, too?”
“I…” He had noticed she’d been uncomfortable? Her own bestie had escorted her to the front of the crowd, but he, a virtual stranger, had figured out she was upset. His quiet observation softened her panicked heart. God, he was too good. Too kind and way too real for her bullshit. Didn’t he know she was more than a breaker of hearts? She demolished men’s souls. “Yeah. I better go.”
“You’re going to let it win?” The easy smile faded. “If it happens again, what are you going to do? Run away?”
“It might happen again?” She wrung her hands, but took a deep breath to settle down. “Not your problem. Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal. And I’m not running.”
He studied the crowd with a narrowed gaze. He looked so intense, working through the problem that was Ai.
She imagined giant cogs swirling and clanging under that handsome noggin. Smart is so sexy.
“Is it the people or the place?”
“What?
“Or me?” He motioned toward himself. “That overwhelmed you?”
“I think it was the crowd.” She blew out a breath.
“If it were just you and me, you think you’d want to stay?”
He pierced her with such an intense gaze, it made her whole body clench. There it was. A question that meant nothing and absolutely everything. This was Sebastian’s line in the sand. If she said she wanted to leave, he would walk away forever.
After the little time they’d spent together, she craved more. More time, more of his attention—a selfish getaway with a man who looked at her like she was beautiful. And interesting. And not harsh, or cold. He put up with her surly personality. “Maybe?”
God, I am such a bitch.
“Yes or no?” He crossed his arms and waited. His broad shoulders pulled tight against his bulging arms.
She absolutely melted. Her stomach clenched and she fisted her hands to stop from touching him all over, shaping him with her fingers, kneading his smooth muscle. This man was a stubborn temptation, and she was weak.
“Okay, fine, yes. If it were you and me then, yeah, of course, but—”
“Wait here!” His grim countenance lifted, and the cocky smile returned. “Give me a minute. This was only phase one of the plan. Don’t move a muscle.” He pointed at her until she sat back down. “Be right back.”
She sighed, totally thrilled yet deeply disappointed in herself. This was exactly why she had turned him down before. He was too kind, and caring, and Karma was not going to let her keep him. Not that she could explain her reasoning to her vajajay, who, she was beginning to suspect, was a total hussy.
Chapter 8
‡
Why the hell hadn’t I come up with a Plan B?
Bullshitting was an artform he dabbled in, especially as a kid, but he tried to avoid it with people he cared about. And he cared too damn much about Ai. But this ornery woman made him pull out all the tricks. When he’d first constructed the date, he never dreamed Ai would bid. The assumption had been he would be stuck with a stranger, and they’d shoot the shit with his friends and then watch the game a few hours later.
But when Ai had actually agreed to join him, he thought she’d be more comfortable in a crowd for their first date. He refused to go to a bar.
Time to call in a few favors. The owner, Rusty, would do him a solid, if he could pull him away from the Q. Tailgating before a game was a sacred time, but he was desperate. Checking over his shoulder every few minutes to see if Ai had bolted, he schemed.
Fifteen minutes later, Sebastian had a picnic basket full of bar-be-cue and beer. He’d even scrounged a bottle of wine in case she didn’t like ale. Pasting a smile on his face, he sauntered over to Ai. It looked like the panic had receded, and a sour-faced, porcelain doll remained. The woman could rock dour like nobody’s business, but that made her smiles all the sweeter.
From the first night he’d laid eyes on her, he couldn’t get enough. Her beauty floored him. Silky hair, almond eyes, delicate brows—and those lips, shimmering coral and pillow soft.
She hid her heart behind titanium walls, but it made him want to break them down all the more. He had tonight and he would do whatever he could to make it count.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Better,” she said between tight lips, as she pulled at her high pony. “Thanks.”
What had that thanks cost her? “My pleasure. We’re all set.”
“For what?”
“The rest of the date, remember?” Hi
s stomach dropped when she didn’t immediately follow. He trudged forward and looked over his shoulder to add, “Don’t worry. We’re heading away from the crowds.”
She remained seated and eyed his truck longingly. Eventually, she sighed and followed.
“We’re headed to the shed. Back behind the house.”
“A shed? That’s our date?” She fished around her jeans and pulled out her phone. “Come here.”
“What? What are you—”
She slung her arm over his shoulder and pressed her cheek against his. If he turned his face slightly to the side, their lips would meet.
Her phone flashed, and she dropped her hand and quickly typed on her phone. “There.” She showed him their photo and the caption that read, “I am currently with this man—in the hinterlands of the San Gabriel Mountains. If you don’t hear from me by tomorrow, it’s all his fault.”
“You know I’m a cop, right? Upstanding citizen and all that.”
“If you say so.”
They headed toward the shed, and he plopped the picnic basket in the back of a golf cart.
“This is what we’re doing? We’re riding around in a golf cart?” She crossed her arms. “I thought you had a bunch of surprises in store.”
Nope. None. The tailgate was all he had, except for one big finale toward the end of the date. Time to keep the bullshit rolling. “Trust me. It’s going to be awesome.”
“Are there mountain lions up here?” She slapped at her arm and flicked off a bug. “Since you’re doing the whole ‘Texas’ theme, shouldn’t you have taken me to a horse ranch? I’ve never ridden one before.”
“Me neither.” He winced when her head whipped toward him, disbelief painted across her face. Definitely shouldn’t have said that out loud.
“You, who sports cowboy boots and probably a hat if you weren’t in Cali., haven’t ridden a horse? Isn’t that a requirement to live in that state?” Her lips tilted in a wicked smile. “What kind of Texan are you?
“The kind that had a Jewish mother from Jersey who said horses bite your face off. She swore she’d seen it on TV somewhere.”
