What did Darren see in her? Whatever it was, she didn’t see it.
She covered herself with a long silk robe and headed back to the living room. Darren sat on the sofa, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a half-empty bottle of bourbon. Eyes shut, his head rested on the top of the sofa back, his shaggy dark hair tousled as though he’d been running his fingers through it.
For a long moment, she stood watching him, studying his face. Rugged. Tanned. Late-day whiskers dotted his chiseled cheeks. A chin that was a little sharp. A little bump on his nose that suggested it’d been broken in the past. But it was his full lips that drew her gaze every time. They looked made for the perfect kiss.
Her heart rate ratcheted up so hard, the pulse in her neck made it hard to swallow. The front of her robe popped with each hard stroke of her heart.
Yeah, she had it bad for this man.
The next time he kissed her—if there was a next time—he’d find a receptive woman on his hands.
Chapter Eight
She was standing right there. He always felt her presence when she was in the same room with him, but tonight, the scent of lavender had washed over him when she’d entered. Shampoo or soap, he assumed. Didn’t matter. Lavender was now his new favorite aroma.
He waited for her to say something. He played opossum, like she’d done this afternoon. Oh, yes, he’d known she was awake when he’d found her after his four-wheeler ride. He didn’t know why she pretended to sleep. In the end, it didn’t matter. But he let her believe she’d fooled him.
And two could play this game. He could pretend she wasn’t standing in the same room as long as he didn’t open his eyes, because as soon as he did, he knew his gaze would give away everything.
The desire he felt for her. Just her. No one else.
The emotional hit he took every time he looked at her.
The boredom of days when he didn’t talk to her.
Not a day went by that he didn’t have something he wanted to tell her, be it a story about his horse, or a bird he saw or joke he’d heard. Any excuse that would let him hear her voice.
The bottle in his fingers moved. He opened his eyes to an angelic vision. Porchia leaning over him with her hand on the bottle. Her blond hair, still damp from the shower, hung like a curtain around her beautiful face.
“Hi,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
He released the bottle into her grasp. “You can wake me anytime, darling.”
“Mind?” She indicated the bottle by lifting it. More than half of the bourbon was gone. Hadn’t that been a fresh bottle he’d opened?
“What’s mine’s yours.”
She was a little burry around the edges. And she seemed a little shaky. Hmm. Maybe he was more tired than he thought.
Porchia straightened, tilted the bottle opening to her lips and took a drink. That was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. His cock must have agreed as it woke suddenly from its nap. If she noticed the tent forming in his jeans, she didn’t mention it.
“Shower’s all yours,” she said. Then, with a lift of an eyebrow, she teased, “And there’s plenty of cold water, should you need that.” Her gaze fell to his lap, which only made him harder. Then she took another draw off the bottle and he groaned.
“Damn, woman. You’re killing me.”
She frowned with confusion.
“You smell great and you can toss back bourbon like a pro. Every man’s dream.” Including his.
He shoved off the couch to stand. He might have wobbled a little, but Porchia didn’t rush over to help him and he appreciated that.
“You okay?” she asked. “I think you might have had a little too much hooch.”
“I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Uh-huh. The shower’s slick. Be careful.”
He leered at her. “Want to come hold my hand? Or better yet, wash my, um, back?”
She laughed again. “When I do, I’d rather you were sober enough to remember it. Now go. If I hear a crash, I’ll check on you.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” He started toward the shower and said over his shoulder, “I would have remembered.”
And he would have. There wasn’t enough booze in the world to wipe out a memory like that.
What stood out in his memory was her comment when I do. Not if, but when. He smiled. He’d loosened a brick in the wall she had around her heart and he had every intention of continuing to pick at the mortar until enough bricks fell to leave an opening large enough for him.
Until then…he turned the cold tap to full and climbed in.
The cabin was quiet as he made his way down the hall to the bedroom. He wasn’t sure where he should sleep. They’d agreed to share the bed and then Porchia had gone all I’ll-sleep-on-the-sofa on him.
She wasn’t on the sofa. He checked. That meant she was in the bed…his bed. But did that mean she wanted him in there too? Or was she expecting him to take the couch?
His brain was as mushy as fresh manure. The bourbon only contributed to that. He flipped a mental coin, decided it landed on bed and he headed that way. If he was wrong, she’d sure let him know.
The door to the bedroom was ajar. Light leaked into the hall. He pushed the door open, ready for anything but what he saw.
Porchia sat upright, her back against the headboard. A pair of reading glasses were perched on her nose, a book in her hand. His heart sputtered for a moment. For just a second, he saw his future. Porchia as his wife, in their bed, reading and waiting for him.
He blinked, the vision real enough to be confusing. His yearning for the domesticated scene so strong he sucked in his breath.
“You all right?” she said, setting her book upside down on her lap. She jerked the glasses off her face. “Oh my God. I forgot I was wearing these.” An embarrassed flush pinked her cheeks and he thought again that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Put them back on,” he said. “You look adorable.”
“I do not,” she protested, and her cheeks reddened more. “I look stupid.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and caught her chin between two fingers. “You could never, ever look stupid, because you’re not. You’re smart and bright and funny. And I love your glasses.”
He leaned in to kiss her. Not sure what her reaction would be, his first kiss was a light touch of his mouth to hers. When she didn’t pull away, his second kiss was gentle but longer. This time, she came toward him, leaning into the kiss. He pulled back and stared into her wide eyes.
For a moment, they just looked at each other, and then he traced the outline of her jaw with his fingers. And still she didn’t say stop or pull away.
Threading his fingers into her hair, he pulled her toward him. She came willingly, meeting him halfway. Their mouths crashed together in a frantic kiss of tongues and teeth. Still holding her head in his hands, he changed the slant of his head and took the kiss deeper, slipping his tongue into her welcoming warmth.
The touch and taste of her mouth sent his heart roaring. She scooted closer until her breasts cushioned his chest. Snaking her arms around him and up his back, she pulled him tight against her.
He bit her bottom lip and then soothed it with his tongue. Wrapping her luscious lips around his tongue, she drew him back into her mouth. She tasted of his bourbon, and that made him crave her all the more.
When she released the suction on his tongue, he swept it around inside her mouth, sampling all the textures and tastes she had to offer. No one tasted this good to him. No one. He could taste the innate sweetness he saw in her. All he could think was mine.
He pulled back far enough to see her face, try to figure out what was happening here. Her striking jade-green eyes sparkled with pleasure. As her lips turned up into a smile, the corners of her eyes narrowed into smile creases. Man, he loved her laugh lines.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Not that I’m not enjoying the hell out of this, but…” He hiked an eyebrow questio
ningly.
“I like how you kiss.”
“And I like how you kiss.” He started to kiss her again but stopped. Porchia wasn’t acting like herself. The sudden one-hundred-eighty-degree turn in her response to him left a storm of questions pounding inside his brain.
Had she had too much to drink? With the wine today with the ladies, the champagne at the reception and the bourbon nightcap, was it possible she wasn’t in complete control of her actions? The last thing he would ever do is take advantage of a woman, especially one he had feelings for. Pushing tonight and going too far could destroy any future they might have. Regret on both their parts would be a difficult pill to swallow in the morning.
And then there was the wedding. His mother and sister, heck, every woman he knew, got emotional at weddings. Was that true of Porchia too? Were her kisses simply an emotional reaction to Cash and Paige’s wedding, a swept-up-in-the-moment reaction?
It could also be that she was trying to make up for their silly argument over who slept on the couch. But to kiss him like she had instead of just saying she was sorry didn’t seem like something the Porchia he knew would do. So probably not that.
“Hey!” Porchia snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Where’d you go?”
He put his hands on her shoulders. “I haven’t gone anywhere yet, but I’m going to.” He stood, collected a pillow and said, “I’ll see you in the morning.” As he shut the door, he heard her pillow thud against it.
Nope. In this game, he was in it to win it, and that meant knowing when to advance and when to retreat. For tonight, retreat to the couch was the best advance he could make. Retreat and take the brick that he’d loosened tonight with him.
Bang! Darren’s eyes flew open at the sound. It was early, if he read the sunlight right. He’d slept long past his usual five a.m. internal alarm. The aroma of coffee penetrated his fog. Bless her. Porchia had made coffee.
When he went to sit, his back muscles screamed with a combination of spasms and stiffness. Grabbing hold on the couch back, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position. He scratched his head and tried to figure out what had woken him. He listened for a moment. The only sound was the low hum from the refrigerator. Otherwise, the place was quiet.
He pulled on his jeans, zipped up far enough to keep them up, but left the button open. Yawning, he shuffled to the kitchen toward his required caffeine. The glass carafe in the drip coffee maker held about a mugful. Porchia had to be buzzing if she’d drunk all the rest of this.
Speaking of his date, where was she? Carrying his mug along, he checked the bathroom. The door was open and the room was empty. In the bedroom, the bed was made and the room tidy. Hmm. She was gone. Now that he thought about it, it had most likely been the front door closing that had woken him. Front door being slammed, actually. That didn’t bode well for him.
After making another pot of coffee, he got dressed for the day. He was standing on his porch sipping his black gold when his mother, sister and Porchia came out of the lodge, got into his parents’ SUV, and drove off.
“Well, hell,” he muttered to no one.
Or he thought he was speaking to no one, except he got a reply. “You’re sounding a tad irritated this morning.”
He lowered his gaze and turned toward the voice. Drake, his brother-in-law, was sitting in a camp chair near a freshly stoked fire with his back turned to Darren.
“Man. You must have the hearing of a bat.”
Drake looked over his shoulder. “When you’ve been a teacher as long as I was, you learn to hear the quietest whispers. Bring your coffee and join me.”
“Let me get a refill and I’ll be right there. You need a cup?”
Drake held up a mug. “Empty.”
“Black? Or cream and sugar.”
“Black.”
Darren went in and came out with an insulated pitcher he’d found in the kitchen. He set the pitcher on a rock and dragged a chair over to where Drake was seated.
“Black and hot,” he said, offering the coffee-filled thermos to Drake.
“’Preciate it. So,” Drake said as he refilled his mug, “from the look on your face, I’m thinking you did something stupid.”
“What? Why does it have to be me that did something stupid? Maybe it was Porchia.”
Drake chuckled. “Well, we’ve established that you did something you wish you hadn’t.”
Darren scratched his morning beard that he hadn’t bothered to shave. “Maybe I did, but I’m not admitting to anything.”
Drake shook his head. “I’ve probably got ten or more years on you, so I’ve had more time to screw up something with a woman. Trust me when I say, whether you did it or she did it, you’ll need to be the one to fix it.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly,” Drake agreed.
“Like what?”
Drake shrugged. “Do something nice. No flowers or anything like that. Women see that as an easy cop-out for a guy. As your sister told me once, it’s easy to throw money at a problem. It’s harder when you actually have to take action.”
“I do not want to know what actions you take with my sister.”
Drake laughed loudly. “Yeah, well, I don’t believe I’ll be sharing those tips with you.”
“Thank God for small favors.”
“Anyway, I’d suggest some gesture on your part.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong,” Darren protested.
“Again, doesn’t matter.”
Darren blew out a long, frustrated breath. “Got it. Thanks.”
“No problem, man. We’re family, and family helps family, especially when it’s guys versus girls.”
The two men tapped their coffee mugs in a salute.
Drake had been married to KC for almost a year, but Darren hadn’t spent a lot of one-on-one time with him until today. Drake made KC happier than she’d ever been in her life, and for that alone, Darren would have tolerated him. But he’d always liked Drake, and more so after this talk. He figured Drake was right about taking some romantic action, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do.
Darren stood and tossed his coffee dregs into the bushes.
“You leaving?” Drake asked.
“Yeah. You gave me an idea, and as the saying goes, I’ve gotta talk to a man about a horse. You want to get together later and ride the four-wheelers?”
Drake’s face broke into a wide smile. “Damn straight.”
Chapter Nine
Porchia dropped two dozen packages of fresh yeast in the grocery cart and bent over to get a box of powdered milk off the bottom shelf.
“So what’s going on with you and my brother?”
Porchia stood and placed the extra-large box of instant milk in her basket, her secret ingredient for the rolls, all the while composing her facial expression before looking at Darren’s sister.
Glancing toward KC, she said, “We’re friends. You know that.”
She pushed the cart down the aisle and stopped at the shortening.
KC followed closely on her heels. “It’s more for him,” she said. “He wants more than to be friends.”
Porchia added three cans of shortening to their baking supplies. “I don’t think so,” she lied.
Whatever happened between her and Darren was between them. She didn’t need his sister poking around.
She pushed the cart a few feet and stopped for sugar and flour. “We’re just very good friends.”
KC helped her load twenty pounds of flour and twenty pounds of sugar. Since all the Montgomery women—except Paige, who no one expected to see for a few days—wanted to learn how to make yeast rolls, Porchia grabbed a couple of extra baking pans.
KC held on to the cart and prevented Porchia from moving. “Either you’re clueless or you’re lying. There’s something between you two more than friendship.”
Porchia didn’t look at her, sure her eyes would give something away. “I like him.” She shrugged and then blurted out, “But I’m older t
han him,” as though that would explain everything, even though the words sounded ridiculous to her own ears.
“So what? Drake’s older than me by six years. Nobody cares about stuff like that.”
Porchia walked on down to the spices and tossed in a large container of cinnamon.
How could she put in to words that she didn’t want people to call her a cougar or tease Darren about being with an older woman as a mother replacement? And even though her rational mind knew these thoughts were asinine, it was hard to let go of years of societal indoctrination that programmed the male being the older in a relationship.
KC jerked the cart to a stop again. “I love my brother. Yes, he can be a pain in my ass sometimes and, yes, he still plays too many practical jokes on me, but he’s my brother. I don’t want him hurt.”
Porchia looked at KC. “I know. I don’t want him hurt either.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“There you two are,” Nadine said, the effort to push a heavy cart up the aisle evident in her posture.
“We’ll finish talking later,” KC said under her breath.
That was exactly what Porchia was afraid of.
“You have everything you need?” Nadine asked.
“For the yeast rolls and cinnamon bread, yes. I think we should get extra eggs and some apples. I know I’ll be doing fritters sometime this week. Do we need anything else for the kitchen?”
“Not that I can think of,” Nadine said.
Porchia and KC studied the load of foodstuffs in Nadine’s cart. She had two prime ribs, a full ham and more steaks than Porchia had seen in one place, other than the meat department at a store.
“Good Lord,” Porchia said. “We aren’t cooking for an army battalion.”
“You weren’t raised with my brothers, so you have no idea. Then add in three male cousins, my dad and uncle, and you’ve pretty much got the appetite of that battalion.”
Porchia laughed. “I see.”
“Prime rib, Mom?” KC said. “Really?”
“We had a wedding last night. We need a nice wedding dinner to celebrate, don’t you think?” Nadine said in the way of explanation. “And I’ve got some vegetables in here too.” She glanced into her meat-laden basket and back to her daughter. “Well, I’ve got some somewhere under all this.”
Texas Hustle Page 8
