by Merry Farmer
Scott very much doubted that. “Can I help you with something?” he said, voice a little harsher than he usually let it get.
Ronny made one last “Mmm” sound, then focused on Scott. “Women, am I right?”
Scott had no idea what he was talking about, so he remained silent and stony-faced.
“So about the other day.” Ronny finally got to the point.
“What about it?” Scott schooled his expression into neutrality.
“The city council meeting,” he said as if clarification were necessary.
“Yeah?”
“Sorry about the way things went.”
Scott blinked. The sense that whatever the something else that had been going on behind the scenes was about to be revealed grew stronger. “How did they go?” he asked just to see how Ronny had interpreted things.
“We were a little harsh on you,” Ronny answered with a wry twitch to his expression.
“You think?” Slowly, Scott’s impulse to be polite and calm was being replaced by utter lack for respect for the weasel in front of him.
Ronny had the gall to laugh. “It’s just that there are a few things my old man and me have been trying to push through the council for a while now. This house project of yours might be a golden opportunity for us.”
Scott just stared at him for a minute. “My dream of building my own house plays into your plans? For what?”
At last, Ronny caught on to Scott’s hostility. It was terrible timing. Instead of spilling whatever ulterior motives Ronny and his dad had, he pressed his lips tight and frowned. “I really shouldn’t talk about it. Not until after next month’s meeting.”
“I won’t tell,” Scott muttered, narrowing his eyes.
“Are you dating Casey Flint?” he asked, seemingly out of the blue, and nodded to the corner where the ladies had disappeared.
Scott followed his glance and saw Casey, Sandy, and Rita on their way back, steaming paper cups in their hands. “That’s none of your business,” he told Ronny.
“Hey!” Casey shouted as she noticed who Scott was talking to. The ladies picked up their pace, all three of them frowning like a raccoon was eating their garbage.
“Gotta go,” Ronny said, pushing back from the wall. “I’ve got a game to win.” He turned and skated off, heading for his teammates at the other end of the ice.
“What did that idiot want?” Sandy asked as the ladies reached him.
“Nothing important,” Scott said. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t just tell Casey what Ronny had said. If it had been just her, he might have, but the Templesmith sisters helped themselves to seats on the bench behind them as Casey settled in by his side again and handed him a steaming cup.
“That pretty much sums up Ronny Bonny,” Rita snorted behind him. “Although good luck telling him that he’s nothing much.”
“Oh, come on, he’s daddy’s big boy,” Sandy mocked.
The girls burst into a fit of laughter.
“The Bonnevilles have always been pills,” Casey, ever the Haskell historian, said. “They’ve been rivals with the Haskell family since day one. It was their ranch versus ours—well, Paradise Ranch before it was willed to our family.”
“Sounds like quite a story.” Scott inched closer to her on the bench, far more interested in Casey’s stories than the hockey players who were taking their positions out on the ice.
“It was a lot of stories,” Casey laughed. “But overall it was really just one time-honored story. Who would gain the upper hand in the end?”
“We all know the answer to that,” Sandy said, though her gaze was locked on the center of the ice where the puck was about to be dropped. “The town’s called Haskell, not Bonneville.”
The referee blew his whistle and dropped the puck, and in an instant, the modest crowd that had gathered to watch the game burst into shouts as Ronny shot forward with the puck.
Scott gave the game a fleeting glimpse before turning back to Casey. “So I take it the Haskell family ‘came out on top,’ as you put it.”
Casey dragged her eyes from the ice and smiled at him. “Obviously. Or to be more specific, the Haskells made good decisions—brilliant decisions, really—when it came to investments and building their fortune over generations, and the Bonnevilles made bad decisions. The Bonnevilles lost the last of their money in the Stock Market Crash of ’29 and had to sell their ranch. Ever since, they’ve been just like anyone else in town, although they certainly don’t think so. If you listen to them tell it, they had a minor set-back and have been working their way back to the top ever since.”
“That almost sounds like a sad story,” Scott said.
Casey snorted. “You don’t know them very well or you wouldn’t say that.”
Actually, after the conversation he’d just had with Ronny, Scott figured he knew them well enough.
“They’ve bounced back to a certain extent,” Casey went on. “Not only is Richard Bonneville the mayor, he owns a truck dealership. Ronny works with him there, and apparently they do okay. More than okay. But man, there are days when I would love to revive the old feud and show them a thing or two.”
Scott laughed. “So no love lost between the Flints and the Bonnevilles, eh?”
“None at all,” Casey answered, more serious than Scott expected.
He latched on to that unexpected hardness. “So did they do something to you personally at some point?”
Casey let out a breath and made a funny, pinched face. She was stopped from answering as the action on the rink swooped around in their direction. One of the Eagles players had the puck, but a Bonneville Bear checked him hard against the boards only yards from where Scott and Casey sat.
“Whoa! That’s not little league checking,” Scott said.
“The Bonnevilles play dirty,” Sandy informed him from just a few feet behind.
“You can say that again,” Casey seconded her.
She still hadn’t lost her strange, irritated expression, like someone had put a pickle in her hot chocolate. The action of the game ebbed slightly as the Bonneville player was sent to the penalty box and the puck sailed across to the other side of the ice.
Casey watched for a while, then continued, eyes still on the game. “I said that Ronny and his dad were doing okay at their dealership, but the truth is I think they’ve made a lot more money than they’re letting on to people.”
“Really?” She suddenly had Scott’s full attention. It was as if another piece of the puzzle building in his brain had turned up. He wasn’t sure where that piece fit yet, though.
“Yeah.” Casey turned to him. “We all think they’ve got money hoarded away somewhere, but they’re not spending it. They live in a dumpy ranch-style house on the west side of town. They drive nice trucks, but those belong to their dealership. Ronny’s sisters, Katrina and Abby, always talk about fashion and jewelry and stupid stuff like that, but they don’t actually wear any of it.”
“Katrina Bonneville couldn’t handle a pair of Jimmy Choos if they walked up to her and sang her name,” Sandy muttered behind them, sending Casey into gales of laughter.
Seeing Casey laugh with her friends ignited a special kind of fireworks in his chest. Seeing her happy did something to him on a visceral level. And then the Eagles scored, and she whooped in victory, along with most of the rest of the spectators. After that, her focus was fully on the game. Scott doubted she was even aware that she’d left her speculation of what the Bonnevilles might be scheming up in the air.
Scott wasn’t sure if he truly cared what the Bonnevilles were plotting. Through their story, he’d inadvertently learned something about Casey. Something important. Town historian that she was, she must have taken the story of the Bonneville clan losing their ranch, their sense of purpose and their identity, to heart. Here he’d been thinking she was being just a bit of a brat about the five acres of what was once hers that was now his, but according to stories she’d probably been raised with, it was a big deal. She knew w
hat she had to lose, and she’d seen others lose it.
He kept that thought in the back of his mind for the rest of the game, although as the action mounted, it was pushed further back.
“Yeah!” Casey shouted in triumph as the Eagles scored a goal late in the third period that all but assured they would beat the Bears. “Woot! Woot!” She even did a fist pump for good measure. And then she asked, “What?” when she saw Scott grinning at her instead of the ice.
“I love your enthusiasm,” he said.
Her cheeks—already pink from the excitement of the game and the chill of the rink—turned a sexy shade of rose. Better still, pure, unadulterated joy filled her eyes. “You do?”
Everything on the ice was forgotten. “Yeah, I do. A lot.” Even when it was working against him.
“Thanks, Scott.” She lowered her head just enough to show how flattered she was. Her long lashes brushed against her cheeks.
The urge to sweep her into his arms and kiss her the way he had in the stable was almost impossible to resist. “Hey, do you want to do something special for Valentine’s Day?” he asked without hesitation.
She blinked wide, her whole face aglow. “Yeah, I’d love to.” A second later, she deflated. “But Valentine’s Day is three weeks away.”
Scott shrugged. He hadn’t felt so mischievous since…he couldn’t even remember. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Let’s move V-Day up a few weeks. Wanna celebrate on Friday?”
Her mouth dropped open, and then she giggled. “You can’t just change the date of a national holiday.”
“Says who?” He winked, enjoying the confident feeling of being full of himself, maybe a little more than he should have. “This is Haskell, after all, and anything is possible here. And hey, if we move it forward, we could celebrate twice.” He was in a rink full of people, two of Casey’s closest friends just one row behind them—pretending not to be listening in, if he knew anything about girls at all—but he couldn’t stop himself from filling his words with innuendo.
“I like the sound of that,” Casey said with equal heat.
It struck Scott that Casey was so different from any other woman he’d dated with her open affection—and her open anger, when she felt it. But he liked it. He liked it a lot.
“Good,” he said. “It’s a date, then. I’ll pick you up on Friday.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the buzzer blared to end the game, and the stands erupted with applause. Casey whipped her attention back to the game in time to see that the Eagles had defeated the Bears, 4-2. She cheered along with everyone else.
So did Scott, but his enthusiastic applause wasn’t for hockey. Instead, it was for the victory of inching things toward the next level with the most beautiful and enigmatic woman he’d ever met.
Chapter Nine
The feeling of fluttery elation that Casey picked up at the hockey game didn’t leave her. The elation part was great. From the game until Friday, she could hardly think of anything but Scott and their pre-Valentine’s Day Valentine’s Day date, although a huge part of her still screamed that she was flirting with the enemy. Scott’s steady kindness—not to mention his dazzling eyes and broad shoulders—overrode her feeling of indignation every time she thought about the land he’d swiped and the house he was planning to build. It was a relief to know his project had been put on hold.
But that in itself gave her even more pause.
“What do you think Ronny and his dad are up to?” she asked Melody and Calliope as they helped her get dressed for the big date.
“Those two?” Calliope said as she curled a strand of Casey’s long hair with an iron. “Who knows? It’s probably something horrible.”
“Scott mentioned some sort of veiled threat in what Ronny said to him at the game,” she went on.
“Ronny always thinks he can push people around,” Melody said, glancing between the dresses she held up in front of her. “I think it’s small man complex.”
“But Ronny isn’t short,” Casey pointed out.
“Mentally he is,” Melody said offhandedly, then held up the slinky red dress in her left hand. “The red,” she said. “I would say the black under almost any other circumstance, but this is a Valentine’s Day date, so red.”
“It’s not Valentine’s Day,” Calliope said.
“Scott decided to move the holiday up,” Casey told her, unable to conceal her giddy grin. “He decided he didn’t want to wait three weeks to have a special date.”
“Well in that case—” Calliope met her eyes with a pointed look in the mirror. “—it’s not the dress that matters, it’s the underwear.”
The three of them burst into laughter. Calliope unwound the curl she’d just made in Casey’s hair and started on another. Melody hung the black dress back in Casey’s closet and threw the red dress across her bed before heading to her dresser. “Let’s see if you have any hot-date-worthy undies in here.”
“I’m sure I don’t.” Casey could feel her cheeks heating. She knew for a fact that the only thing in her drawer was a bunch of serviceable cotton stuff. It’d been that long since she’d dated anyone.
Melody searched through the drawer with a half-grimace. “Hmm. You’re right.” She straightened, face lighting with an idea. “Why don’t you go commando?”
Casey gawked at her. “No underwear at all?”
“Ooh, fun,” Calliope giggled.
“Why not?” Melody asked with a particularly sly grin.
“Because I’ve never gone out in public not wearing underwear in my entire life?”
Melody shrugged. “Well, this is a special occasion, isn’t it? A time to try something new?”
“Um, I’m not sure I want to go that far.” Casey sent her a mock serious look.
“But think of it this way,” Melody pressed on. “Are you going to sleep with him?”
Casey’s face burned even hotter. Squiggles of urgency bounced through her, settling in her core at the very thought. It’d been ages since she’d had sex too, and whatever conflict her brain was dealing with, her body had no question at all of what it wanted.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Melody went on when Casey didn’t answer. “So, logically speaking, if you’re going to end up sans-panties anyhow, why not just start off that way?”
“Yeah, it’ll be an awesome surprise for Scott once he gets to that point and realizes you’re already raring to go,” Calliope added, finishing with the curling iron.
“Listen to you two,” Casey laughed. “You’re such bad influences.”
“How is encouraging healthy sexual activity between two consenting adults who are dating being a bad influence?” Melody asked, her smile teasing. “Or suggesting you go natural?”
“Well it’s not weird for you two,” Casey giggled. “You were raised by hippies.”
“For which we are eternally grateful,” Calliope added.
“I dare you to go commando,” Melody said, crossing her arms. “At least try on the dress without underwear.”
Casey sighed. “Okay, but I’m not sure it will fit that way.”
Not only was she wrong, but as she slipped the glittery sheath dress on along her bare skin, the sensation of the silky lining sliding across her flesh left her wishing her friends were gone and Scott was there and ready to go. And there was a definite appeal to wearing that dress with no panty-lines and without having to worry about bra straps peeking out from under the thin straps of the dress itself.
“I’m going to freeze like this,” she said, glancing down at herself once the dress was zipped.
“You were going to freeze in that dress in this weather anyhow,” Calliope pointed out.
“Yeah, but if I get too cold, it’ll be nip city up here.” She cupped her breasts where her nipples were already too hard and showing through the fabric.
“He’ll love it,” Melody assured her. “He won’t be able to think of anything else but getting you in bed.”
Another sh
iver passed down Casey’s spine. Like it or not, in Scott’s bed was exactly where she hoped the night would end.
“I wish Mom were here,” she whispered, running her hands down her sides. Her mom would be full of advice on how to handle the whole situation. She’d have preached caution, lectured Casey on making sure Scott wore protection, and assured her that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to do. But she’d never been the sort of mom to forbid any sort of hanky-panky or pretend her daughter was a virginal flower.
Melody and Calliope stepped over to hug her at the same time. It was comforting to know she had good friends by her side, even if her mom wasn’t there anymore.
“She’d be so proud of you,” Melody said, blinking back tears.
“She loved you so much,” Calliope agreed.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang, and Casey was spared the trauma of crying away her make-up and having to redo it by the jolt of nerves that struck her. Melody and Calliope loosened their hug as they heard Ted answer the door and greet Scott.
“Go make his eyes pop out,” Melody told Casey, giving her one last squeeze.
“Shoes, shoes!”
Calliope jumped away from the hug and fetched a pair of low-heeled pumps from the closet. They were as high as Casey could manage, and under the current circumstances, even one inch made her bristle with nerves. The last thing she needed in her current, natural state was to fall and expose herself to the world. Her skirt was only just above her knees, after all.
Three minutes later, all of her effort and angst seemed worth it. She walked carefully down the stairs, working hard to appear completely at ease and even mysteriously sexy. The minute Scott laid eyes on her, his reaction was palpable.
“You look amazing,” he said, his voice rougher than casual conversation dictated.
“Yeah, sis, you look nice,” Ted said, though his expression was pained.
That was just the dose of cold water Casey needed. If her brother looked like he’d rather have his eyes poked out than continue to see her like that, she must look hot.
