“Did he say that?” He put the truck in gear and they pulled out of the parking lot. “Because if he did, so help me...”
“He didn’t, but he’d like that. What he did say was that you like to mess around with girls, then dump them. Is it true?”
Dean rolled his eyes. “Thanks, Dad. What a load of horse shit. I’ve never done that. And I’m not messing around with you. I genuinely want to help. The only thing I want out of this is supper.”
London shook her head. “I offered gas money. No dinner, slick. Daddy Trulove would flip out if he heard about us so much as breathing around one another after work hours.”
He wagged his finger at her. “You don’t know me very well yet, London, but I’m persistent. By the time we get this crib and get it inside your apartment, you’ll be dying to say yes.”
Her turn to roll her eyes. “Doubt it. You don’t know me very well, cowboy. I’ve sworn off Stetsons and boots and spurs and belt buckles. All of it.”
Dean slapped the steering wheel as he laughed. “You think that walking catalog model you were seeing before was a cowboy? Honey, the only horse he’s ever ridden is the mechanical one you drop a quarter into outside the drug store.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “Let’s get this done so you can be home by a decent hour. We don’t want Daddy Trulove to worry about his baby boy.”
He snorted. “I’m gonna tell him you call him that. Right after we have a nice long talk about who I can and can’t see in my social life.”
“Don’t you dare!” Horror flooded through her. “I’ll have to leave the state if he finds out.”
“He’s got you right where he wants you—a scared little chicken cornered by a coyote. You stand up to him. He has respect for people with gumption.”
“Easy for you to say. He wasn’t giving you the stink eye.”
Dean pulled the truck into the thrift store parking lot. “Let’s load ‘er up. Am I going to need tools when we get back to your place or is it already put together?”
“I have my own tools.” She pushed her chin up. “I’m not a total damsel in distress.”
“All damsel, only a little distress. Got it.” He got out of the truck. “I may stick around to watch you put it together, purely for entertainment purposes. I got a kick out of watching my sister and her husband bicker at one another when they set their crib up for the twins.”
She followed him out of the truck and into the store. “You’re a riot, Dean. A real hoot.”
He flashed that far too sexy grin. “I know it.”
London approached the cashier. “Hi. I was in earlier and placed a hold on the white three-in-one crib you have. We’re here to pick it up.”
“Oh, sure. It’s right where it was sitting.” The girl waved down the aisle. “Go ahead and take it.”
“Thanks.” London gestured for Dean to follow. Under the bright fluorescent lights, it looked a little shabbier than she remembered. “This is it.”
He eyed it critically. “Needs some paint.”
“But jiggle it a little. It’s sturdy. Paint is the easy part.”
He lifted it and gave it a shake. “I guess it’ll do. Doesn’t seem like a baby will go tumbling through the bottom.” He lifted the pieces and carried them outside.
London got back in the vehicle. At least she had something purchased for her new arrival.
“I could paint it, if you want. Instead of taking it to your house, I’ll slap on the paint this weekend at my place. It’ll look brand new when I’m done.” He got into the truck and started it. “It wouldn’t take very long, little thing like that.”
She shook her head. “Oh, no way. Your dad will freak if he finds out. It’s a kind offer, but I can manage.”
“Is that all you care about? What Darren Trulove thinks about us?”
“There is no us. Get that out of your head right this second. I appreciate your offer, but it won’t take me long to repaint it either. I like crafty projects.”
“You told me before that you’re no good with your hands. Let me do it.”
She shook her head. “No way. I know what this is about. I already dragged you down here to pick it up. If I let you paint it, you’re going to say you want supper as payment. Nope. Not happening.”
“What are you so afraid of when it comes to me?” He leaned across the arm rest. “I’m not gonna bite.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“Supper doesn’t have to be a date.” He stared at her, unblinking, with big brown eyes begging for her attention. Eyes that swayed her good intentions.
“You’re impossible, you know that?” She threw up her hands. “Fine. Paint the crib if you want. Take me to supper. There’s no resisting you.”
His deep laughter stirred her blood.
“Told you so.” He got the truck back on the highway.
“Where are we eating?” Hopefully he’d go for fast food. Something quick so they could go their separate ways.
“I’m taking you to Chez Trulove. We have the finest quality meat around, a microwave for mouth-watering sides, and plenty of sparkling clear water straight from the well.”
“Your house? Not a good idea.” She clutched the door handle, but there was no way out. “I’m drawing the line here. I agreed to supper, but it’s got to be in a public place.”
He drove on, not even braking at her sudden outburst. “You haven’t even seen my house. What could possibly be wrong with it?”
“About a million things. Like your dad could drop in.”
“Like I’m a naughty frat boy? He’d call first. Relax. First you worried about being seen with me, then you worry about privacy. Let me do the cooking, you take a load off, and everything will turn out fine. I promise.”
It seemed impossible to strip the grin off his face.
“Only if you promise to take me home the second we’re through eating. No bargaining, no surprises. We eat, then we leave. This is not a date, no matter how charming you think you are.” She folded her arms. “Swear?”
“Cross my heart, London. I won’t even load the dishes in the washer. We’ll climb into the truck and get you home.” His words were earnest, but his smile pure mischief.
“Okay, it’s settled.” Saying it out loud didn’t shake the feeling that she was making a mistake by allowing Dean to get his way.
CHAPTER SIX
Dean laid chicken breasts on the sizzling grill, arranged corn cobs sprinkled with a mixture of herbs, and veggie kabobs around the meat. He closed the lid, then made his way back to the kitchen with the dirty cutting board.
London sat at the table, her shoes cast beneath it, bare toes curling and uncurling against the hardwood floor.
He dropped the cutting board into the sink. “Comfortable enough? Can I get you a refill?”
She held up her nearly empty glass. “A cowboy who drinks water infused with fruit. Who knew?”
“Chrissy got me started. She does that Pilates or yoga or whatever. Fruit water is supposed to be good for you.” He accepted her glass and carried it to the fridge. “It tastes okay.”
Strawberry lime was the choice of the day. Even if it seemed girly. The pitcher that held the water was even worse. Mermaids and seashells decorated the ugly thing. A gift from Chrissy when she introduced him to the idea of infusing.
London watched him refill the glass. A smirk twisted the corners of her mouth.
He crammed the pitcher deep into the back of the fridge. “It’s easy to get dehydrated in this heat. A little natural flavor in the water doesn’t hurt.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
The smirk didn’t go away, either. “How’d the first week of work treat you?” He set the glass in front of her. “Think you’ll make it after Patty leaves?
She picked up his toothpick holder, then rolled it between her palms. “I hope so. She said I could call her any time I have questions. Are you planning to throw her a retirement party?”<
br />
“Combined with Dad’s. I hope you won’t be too scared of him to drop in. There’ll be cake.”
“As though cake will smooth over the situation between us.” She rolled her eyes. “For Patty, I’ll go. I might even clap when you say some nice words about your dad, but don’t expect too much.”
“Forget about him. It’s just us here.” It would be easy to take the toothpick holder away from her and take her hand. A light glaze of pink polish covered her nails. Pretty, feminine, and utterly London.
She let out a breath. “I guess so.”
“You want a tour? I love this house. It’s the original farmhouse my granddad built when he moved to Oklahoma in the early twentieth century.” He pointed at the ceiling joists. “It started out just this kitchen and about half of the living room. It was a tiny cabin. He didn’t add on for a few years. Not till my grandma demanded it once they started having kids. The trim in the corners is original stuff that he put in. The paneling along the bottom parts is newer and hand stained to match.”
She rose. “Neat. Did he do all of the wood cutting by hand?”
“Most of it. He had help. His brothers moved out here too. One was an Indian agent. Mom keeps all the old family photos at her house. I’d love to show you sometime.”
“Mmm. I’ve got to meet your mom one of these days and tell her what a gentleman she raised.” She dragged her toes across the floor. “So, are the floors original too?”
She wanted to meet his mother. That warmed his heart. “I’d introduce you to my mom any day of the week. She actually wants you to come to a meal with us sometime. And yes, original floors.”
“I’m assuming Daddy Trulove will be out of town when this meal happens?” She put one hand on her hip. “Can’t imagine him issuing an invitation.”
“He’s not as bad as he seems.” It burned his ass that his dad acted so frostily toward London. They’d have to have a chat about it.
“Show me the rest of the house?”
“Sure.” He entered the living room, pointing out various touches like the hand-carved mantel and the old stone fireplace. He’d tried to keep too many modern amenities from cluttering the space while still giving himself a space to watch football, a home office, and a laundry room. She’d visited the downstairs bathroom when she arrived, so he passed by it to take her upstairs.
Old photos decorated the wall of the staircase. She admired them as they climbed.
“Who are they?” She straightened one of a stoic-looking couple in nineteenth century garb.
“Beats me. I pick them up at flea markets sometimes because they’re interesting. Is that weird?” He paused in front of a sepia photo of a man with a big mustache. “I like to pretend this one might have been a lawman.”
“It’s cool. What a great idea. All the family you ever wanted without the hassle.”
He bit his tongue. His family wasn’t much trouble, not really. They got along better than most. “Yeah, Great-uncle Fred here with his sharp bowler hat. Aunt Marge in her fox fur stole.”
She followed him up the stairs.
“Master bedroom over there. A spare and the home office on that side of the hall. Another bathroom. The plumbing up here wasn’t done until the seventies. I had some remodeling done when Mom and Dad built their house. Creature comforts, mostly, but adding closets where there were only bureaus before. Nicer bathroom features including a jetted tub. Why do I suddenly sound like a sissy?” He couldn’t help smiling at the grin on her face. “If it makes me any more manly, I did a lot of the work myself.”
“That helps,” she teased. London flipped the light on in the master bath. She let out a whistle. “Dang, cowboy.”
He’d selected paneling to match the downstairs, but the tub was a mottled brown, black and white faux marble that better resembled a hot tub. Behind it, a window offered a spectacular view of the valley that separated his house from his parents’. A couple dozen head of black Angus dotted the grass expanse. Nearby the tub, a glass-enclosed shower with waterfall showerheads and a real river stone floor.
“This is something else. Can I see the bedroom?”
“Sure. Right across the hall.”
She stepped across the hall into his bedroom. “No less impressive.”
He owned a king-sized bed because why not? No corn husk mattress like the one that had originally graced the room when his granddad built the house. He’d had the closet expanded, thinking ahead for his future bride’s comfort. An oil painting of a windmill against a sunset on a landscape that looked a lot like Oklahoma hung over the bed. A Shaker-style armoire hid his big screen TV from sight.
“The trunk at the foot of the bed belonged to my granddad. He brought it here with him from Tennessee. I had an antique dealer restore it. Cost a fortune, but it was worth it.” The sea trunk gave him extra storage he didn’t currently need, but it added a finishing touch to the rustic style.
“This is fantastic. It must have cost a fortune to redo the place.” She shook her head. “It’s cozy, a little rustic, but nothing about it is uncomfortable.”
“It cost a little bit, but I figured make a house a home. For when I get ready to settle down.”
“When can I move in?” She bumped his arm with her shoulder. “The things I’d do just to be able to use that tub.”
His throat and groin tightened. “Say the word, the place is yours.” He sounded gravelly and cleared his throat.
“If only it were that easy.” She rubbed her hand over her stomach. “You’d better check the grill.”
“Yeah.” It had slipped his mind.
They went downstairs again, then he headed out to flip the chicken.
“Shouldn’t be long,” he called through the screen door.
She came to the door, pushed it open. Still barefoot. And oh, so sexy in her denim skirt. London’s hair hung loose around her face. “We can sit out here. The breeze is cooling things down.”
Everywhere except in his pants. “Sure.” He waved his spatula at the patio furniture. “Have a seat.”
She lowered herself into one of the chairs. “You have horses?”
A feed trough and water tank sat near the barbed-wire fence.
“Yeah. Two. One was my sister’s, but she moved to the suburbs. They’re herd animals anyway, so it makes sense to keep them together. I ride both to keep them from forgetting their manners, but I’ve owned Digger since I graduated college. Chrissy’s boys ride him when they come over. Both of us grew up on horseback, but she freaks if I let them ride without an adult too. You’d think she’d never ridden a horse herself.”
“I like horses. Never owned one. We didn’t exactly have anywhere to put a horse while living in an apartment.” Her mouth flattened and her gaze shifted to the gentle swell of the landscape. “It’s peaceful here. My apartment is noisy all the time.”
“The only time I ever lived in a town was when I went to OU. It didn’t suit me very well.” The four most uncomfortable years of his life.
“This place does. You just blend right on in.”
When she relaxed, a hint of Okie twang came out in her voice. The girl from all over Oklahoma, without family to rely on. No wonder she acted uneasy when he tried to get her to see him as more than a friend.
His heart clenched. Poor London.
“What are you looking at?” She wrinkled her nose. “Do I have something on my face?”
“Just the fine features you were born with.” He ducked when she threw an ice cube at him. “What? It’s the truth.”
“No flirting.” She wagged her finger. “This is a friendly dinner. That crossed a line.”
“You could say something about how damn good looking I am.” He closed the grill lid. “I’m waiting.”
“You have a nice ass. Those Wranglers were made for you. Happy?”
“Very.” She wasn’t immune to his ass and probably not to the rest of him. Good. He settled in the chair next to hers.
“Why do you want to flirt with me
so bad, Dean?” She crossed one leg over the other. “I’m pregnant with another man’s baby.”
“So? It doesn’t make you any less beautiful or interesting. Doesn’t make you any less of a person.”
“Then why do other people think so?” She picked at one fingernail where the nail polish was starting to chip.
“They’re jerks.”
“I guess.” London stared at him, unblinking. “I wish I’d met you instead of Billy that night. That would have been perfect. Me and you, we could have gotten somewhere instead of getting wasted and having a one-night stand that led to a lot of regrets.”
He leaned toward her. “Me and you could still get somewhere if you’d let go of those judgmental notions pounding around in your head.”
“It’s going to be a rocky ride. I don’t think you want any part of it. Or, if you do now, you could regret it later.” She licked her lips. “I don’t have a history, not like your family. I don’t have money or a business or very much education. I go to church, but I’m no saint. I’m not the kind of pretty little housebroken debutant your parents want for you. More like trailer trash from across the tracks.”
“London.”
“What?”
“Don’t ever say that again.” He leaned across the few inches between them and kissed her. Gently, so he wouldn’t frighten her. The thrill of the kiss intensified when she didn’t push him away.
She opened her mouth and invited him in.
He didn’t want another one-night stand. He wanted a woman committed to him. To family. And he wanted that woman to be London and the family to be whoever she brought into the world. Next time, it could be his son or daughter.
He drew back. “Give me a chance. In exchange, you can use that tub whenever you like.”
London touched her lips. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“You won’t. Let’s try.” He squeezed her hand. “C’mon, darlin’. Don’t think about what could go wrong. Think about everything that could go right.”
She nodded. “Okay. Then I guess this is our first date.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cowboy Six Pack Page 14
