50 Hidden Desires

by Jessica Lemmon

Inside the rustic, wooden-walled, two-story bar, pool balls clacked and laughter rang out. She garnered a few raised eyebrows and glances from the patrons and it wasn’t hard to see why. Holly hadn’t changed from work yet, so she was wearing the same flowy pale pink skirt and white blouse. Rather than pull on the flats she’d worn to the job site today, she’d slid into her tall, glittery gold heels before she ran out the door. She was going out and going out meant high heels. The crowd shooting glances at her now was more “jeans and sneakers” than “gold and glitter.”

  She found Dalton at the bar, hand wrapped around a beer bottle, eyes on her. The way his blue gaze ran down to her shoes and up again sent a wave of heat flicking over her skin. She practically ran toward him.

  “You came,” he said, sounding slightly surprised.

  “Why not you?” she asked, continuing the conversation from his phone call. Purse on the bar, she slid onto the barstool next to him.

  He tipped his beer bottle, shut one eye and peered into the bottom.

  “Another?” the bartender, a big guy with a crooked nose and a bald head, offered.

  “Yeah,” Dalton said at the same time Holly answered “no.”

  “One more then, and you?” The bartender pointed a finger at Holly.

  She groused at being ignored, but ordered anyway. “Water.”

  The bald guy nodded and turned away.

  “What are you doing?” she asked Dalton after he’d gone.

  “Getting plowed. What are you doing?”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “I mean what are you doing with me?” He gestured to himself with the empty bottle, face screwed into a legitimate question mark.

  I love you, her heart answered. But she wasn’t dumb enough to admit it. Drunk or not, she worried Dalton would remember and then she’d die of humiliation. Being with her wasn’t about love for him. Hell, she’d had to bribe him to this very point.

  “I told you already.” Their drinks arrived and she ran a finger down the side of her water glass. “You’re experienced and I trust you.”

  Dalton snorted.

  “Let’s finish up your list tonight, then.” He relinquished the empty bottle in favor of the new then slammed his hand down on the bar. “Barkeep! Bring me my check! The lady and I are leaving.”

  The bartender sent Dalton a scowl.

  “He’s kidding.” She fluttered her hand in front of her, and while the bartender didn’t look like he believed her, he did stop short of tossing them out on their asses, so that was a plus.

  “Come on, Hol. You wanted to bed me. Bed me. Let’s do this.” Another two palm slaps to the bar top brought the bartender over.

  “Get him out of here or I will.” The other man’s brow dented. He meant business.

  “We’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Er…you know what I mean.” She shook her head quickly and the bald guy rolled his eyes and turned away.

  Dalton leaned close, the smell of beer on his breath not the least bit of a deterrent. Wherever he was concerned, nothing deterred her. Everything about him only made her want him more. Especially since they’d crossed the county lines and visited Blissville more than once. Or, at least she had.

  “Yeah, honey,” he said, his voice a gravelly husk. “Get me out of here.”

  She wanted to. Wanted to haul him into her car, then to her apartment, and curl up next to him in her bed. Not for the sex she was looking forward to more than her next breath, just to…be there for him. To let him know she was here for whatever he needed. That she was a real, viable option for him. He could count on her.

  “I don’t like to see you hurting,” she said.

  “What a coincidence,” he said, his laugh both chafing and humorless. “I don’t like to see me hurting, either.”

  “Dalton. I mean it.” Her voice was hushed, but he heard her. A second later, his smile faded and his eyes bled sincerity. He lifted one hand and brushed her cheek. Holly leaned closer, her eyes glued to his tempting, firm lips…

  “What the hell?” a voice raised behind her.

  “Jace! What…why?” She nearly flew out of her skin at the sight of her brother approaching the bar, face screwed into pleats of confusion. But really, what was he doing here? “We were just…um.”

  “I called him. I’m drunk,” Dalton announced, slicing a glance to Holly letting her know that he wasn’t as drunk as he’d like Jace to believe he was. “I thought Holly was a cute blonde who came to take me home.” He hiccupped but it sounded rehearsed.

  “Excuse me?” she snapped, but her voice was lost behind Jace’s. Typical.

  “You put your lips on her, Thomas, I’ll take you out.”

  “Don’t be a jerk, Jace.” Her cheeks burned with anger, but not with her brother. With Dalton. After kissing her repeatedly—everywhere—how could he act like he didn’t care about her?

  Jace gave her a hard look, suspicion lingering in his narrowed gaze. So she reined in her emotions and focused on Dalton.

  “Give him a break,” she said to her brother and herself. “Dalt had a hard day and you should be a better friend.”

  At that, Jace’s brow scrunched. “What happened?” His voice was legitimately concerned, and so was the hand that landed on Dalton’s shoulder and squeezed. That was the thing about her brother. He meant well.

  “Burned my mom’s house down today,” Dalton answered. Then he made an explosion motion complete with sound effects.

  Jace’s concerned expression was one he exchanged with Holly.

  “I was there,” she told him. “We had a picnic.”

  “That was sweet of you, Little.” Her brother wrapped an arm around her neck and kissed her forehead. “I knew the fire was in Brownsboro but I didn’t put together it was your former house. Hell, you should have told me. Damn, bro, I’m sorry. I should’ve known.”

  “Yeah well, you’re a dick,” Dalton said, his tone jokingly droll.

  “You drive?” Jace asked as his good humor snapped into place.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll have your car delivered to your house. You can come with me. What about you, Hol, you good to drive yourself home?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Come on, I’m not leaving you here,” Jace said.

  “What if I don’t want to leave?” She raised her chin. Not exactly her crowd, but she was tired of being told what to do.

  “Little, I’m not leaving you in a place called Dive Bar alone. Not in those shoes.”

  A small smile appeared on the edge of Dalton’s mouth as he stood from the barstool. There was enough appreciation in it that her temper eased.

  “Let me get Dalt in the car,” Jace said. “Meet us out front.”

  “Shouldn’t have called you.” Dalton pegged her with a look that was borderline sober. Then he wrapped his arm around Jace and staggered toward the door. Before they walked out, she heard Dalton say, “Sorry about macking on your sister, bro. Been a long, stupid day.”

  Thanks a lot.

  “He didn’t pay his tab,” the bartender said, drawing Holly’s attention.

  “It’s fine. I’ve got it.” She slid her credit card across the bar and the guy paused to give her sincere advice.

  “That was you on the phone earlier?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “He was right, you know.” The bartender gave her a frown. “You can do better.”

  Chapter 14

  DALTON FILLED A paper cup with water from the cooler and started out of the executive break room, then stopped short. Holly stood at the threshold wearing a black dress that hugged her slim curves, a zipper running from neck to knee.

  Didn’t that introduce a host of inappropriate thoughts? Like the way he’d like to take hold of the tab and slowly snick the teeth down, down, down until she wore only her underwear and shoes. His eyes went to her feet. Red high heels. He wondered if her panties and bra were the same color.

  God help him.

  As days went, yesterd
ay had been among the worst. After the house he’d been raised in was reduced to nothing but charred remains, he left the site and went straight for the bar for one beer. One turned into two, which turned into three, which turned into, what else? Him calling his support system: the Larsons.

  He took a hearty gulp of the water he’d just poured. He had to get out of here before he did something like grab the tab of her zipper and give it a yank.

  Before he could make his escape she pushed him back into the room, shut the door behind her, and crossed her arms over her breasts.

  He pulled a hand down his face and rerouted his gaze to her eyes. A sweep of glittery eyeshadow sparkled above her sharp green stare.

  Shit.

  She was still mad about Jace catching them. Or maybe because Dalton had pretended he didn’t know it was her he was trying to kiss.

  “What happened last night? I wanted to call or text you after you left, but I had no idea if my brother would still be loitering, so I didn’t risk it. Were you not going to speak to me?”

  “’Course I was.” Eventually. Next week, maybe.

  “Why did you call Jace and me? Why not just me? I could have driven you home, Dalton.” Her voice grew softer. “I would have.”

  “I know you would have. The point is”—he put down his cup and stepped closer to her, wanting to take her hands, but the damn window opening to the rest of the office prevented him from doing so. “The point is,” he repeated, plunging his hands in his pants pockets instead, “I’ve more than proven I’m a bad choice for you. You’re mad this morning and I don’t blame you. You have a right to be mad.”

  “I’m not mad,” she argued.

  “But you deserve better.”

  “Why do you keep saying that? What is wrong with you?”

  Rather than answer, he shook his head. “It’s okay, Hol. We’ll call it off now. No harm, no foul. Go back to the way things were between us. We’re friends. Nothing will ever change that.”

  Lies. All of them. He’d never look at her the same again after knowing the silky feel of her skin and the sounds she made when her pleasure hit the pinnacle. He expected a dash of regret to cloud her features, or maybe a plea like: “Don’t do this, Dalton.” Both of which he could handle. Instead, she shot daggers at him from eyes that resembled twin green flames.

  “Oh, no you don’t, Dalton Thomas.” She stabbed him in the chest with one finger. “There is a number three on my Lust List and you’re going to fulfill it. You promised.”

  Lust List? That’s what she was calling it?

  “I’m not letting you off this easy. You think I deserve better, then you find a way to be better.” She poked him again. “Tomorrow.” Poke. “Six o’clock.” Poke. “We’ll cross off number three. You’re not off the hook until that box is ticked.”

  His tongue temporarily welded itself to the roof of his mouth.

  “Am I supposed to guess what number three is?” he finally asked, his voice choked with desire. In an attempt to lighten the mood, and get his mind out of the gutter, he said, “Does it involve power tools? Just so you’re aware, I’m a hard ‘no’ on live animals of any kind.”

  “You already know.” Her eyes narrowed so far, he lost those jade greens in a sea of black, mascaraed lashes. “Sex.”

  Sex. Sweat broke out on his temple.

  Attraction pounded the air between them like native drums. In his pockets, his hands curled into fists. He wanted to touch her. Kiss her. He may not believe he was good enough for her, but hell if he cared when she looked at him like that—like he was everything she’d ever wanted.

  She turned to exit the break room but before she did, she flattened him with a wink and four words he’d carry with him the rest of the day.

  “The really dirty kind.”

  Chapter 15

  THE REALLY DIRTY kind.

  Had she actually, in reality, said that? To Dalton?

  She had successfully avoided him the remainder of the day, bolted at quarter till five, and now it was Saturday and it was ten minutes until six o’clock.

  Would he even show up?

  And if he did, then what?

  She didn’t want really dirty sex. Well, yes, she did, but she also wanted it to be sexy. Fun.

  She wanted romance. A movie montage. The best orgasm of her life!

  Tall order? Sure. But if anyone could fulfill that fantasy, it was Dalton Thomas.

  Maybe she should text him and tell him that. Just to be clear. She had no idea what he had planned, but if he thought he’d take her parking again and attempt to have sex in a car…or, oh, no, what if he booked a night at some kinky weirdo hotel with chains on the wall?

  No. None of that would work for her.

  She touched the keypad of her phone to text him when a sharp knock rattled her door. The sound turned her knees to jelly and made her spine ooze.

  I’m not ready. I’m not ready.

  The knock came again, softer this time, followed by, “Miss Larson? Your dream date has arrived.”

  Her eyes closed briefly in relief, and she felt a smile spread across her mouth. If only he knew how right he was. Phone in hand, she crossed her living room, pulled open the door, and nearly fainted.

  Dalton wore a dark pair of pressed slacks, a gray button-down shirt, and shiny shoes. His facial hair was trimmed so close it was more of a shadow, and his smile was as genuine and familiar as they came.

  She loved him so much, her heart pinched.

  From behind his back, he pulled out a bouquet of mixed flowers and a bag of M&M’s.

  “Thank you.” She laughed.

  “I’d be remiss if I didn’t bring flowers and candy on your dream date,” he said, handing both over.

  “Won’t you come in?”

  He followed her inside. She filled a vase with water, feeling awkward and excited in equal measures. By the time Dalton had plunked the bouquet into the vase and propped the bag of candy against it, she was ready to amend her former demand for “dirty” anything with him.

  The idea of romance pounded in her veins like an overplayed song. That’s what she wanted with Dalton. A memorable night to tuck away. Forever. Because he wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t. Not with his job at Larson Land Management and his friendship with Jace in the balance. More importantly, Holly wouldn’t ask him to give up anything for her.

  “Hey. You’re not supposed to look sad tonight.” Dalton’s eyebrows closed over his nose.

  “I’m not. I’m…tired.”

  “Oh, no, no, gorgeous. Tired comes later, a few hours after you do,” he rumbled, lowering his lips to hers and stealing a panty-melting kiss. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on, letting herself enjoy the feeling of his mouth on hers and the way it felt to be enclosed in his arms.

  “Let’s go before I change my mind and take you to back to your bedroom.”

  “Fine by me.” She sucked in a soft breath. He’d get absolutely zero arguments from her on that front.

  “Sorry, Hol. I have plans for you tonight and they don’t involve you being at home.” He took her hand and walked for the door, snatching her clutch off the counter on the way. “And no, I’m not telling you where we’re going.”

  He wasn’t kidding. He didn’t tell her, and stopped short of blindfolding her. She’d had her doubts when she spotted a discarded necktie between the seats of his car. When she lifted the strip of silk and asked about it, he simply said, “Changed my mind about wearing the tie.”

  So. There was that.

  “You look beautiful, by the way,” he commented. “I’ve never seen a girl sparkle the way you do, Hol.”

  “Thank you.” She hadn’t dressed demurely. Not even a little. Her short, shimmery gold dress stopped mid-thigh, and her gold glittering heels were high and strappy.

  “You’re making this too easy for me.” He sent her a flirtatious smile. She couldn’t remember being at the end of that kind of smile before she’d talked him into this arrangement. Her heart ping
ed. She wished this wasn’t for pretend, that she could have this for keeps.

  “Girl as beautiful and smart and funny as you are going out with a guy from the wrong side of the tracks…” He trailed off with a tsk.

  “Okay, Romeo, no need to lay it on thick.”

  “You think I’m playing it up?” he asked, steering them onto Reynolds Road.

  “Totally.” She dug in her clutch for her lip gloss, but when she pulled out the tube, he took it away from her and dropped it back into her purse.

  “Nope. We’re about to eat.”

  She looked at the stretch of road before them. There was a gas station, a McDonald’s, and not much else. “Where?”

  “Here.” He steered into Mickey D’s and she smiled curiously at him.

  “Seriously?”

  “Holly Larson,” he said as he pulled to a stop in front of the drive-thru speaker. “You once told me there was no greater creation on earth than a McDonald’s fish sandwich with extra cheese, a large order of fries, and an ice-cold Coke.”

  “I did?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “You know you did. I brought you that very meal every so often to save you from your mother’s salmon tartare, remember?”

  She remembered. She couldn’t believe he did, but she definitely remembered. The speaker crackled and he ordered that same order, times two.

  When he was given the total and pulled forward, he sent her a sly smile and said, “Dream date, didn’t I tell you?”

  He collected the paper bag and sodas and drove away from the building. “This isn’t the only reason we’re on Reynolds Road.”

  A desolate backdrop for their date for sure.

  “No?” she asked.

  “No. I also wanted to share a piece of my past with you. I owe you that much considering I was so ungracious about sharing the other day.”

  Ah, that’s what this was about.

  “It’s okay.”

  His hand landed on her bare thigh and warmth crept to her belly. He sent her a sideways glance as he pulled back onto the road. “It’s not okay. You trust me. I should trust you. Think of this part of tonight as my earning your trust.”

  He cast her a questioning glance and she agreed with a quick nod. Then she stole a crisp, hot fry out of the bag and chewed, memories pricking her brain via her taste buds.