What Carla wouldn’t give to have a brother or sister to pal around with, to share secrets. Rachel had not only Joey, but two older brothers to boot. What did Carla have? Very little.
She shook her head. She’d left her past behind a long time ago, and whining over something she couldn’t change wouldn’t do her any good. She was here today, she had a good life, good friends, a great job, and a sexy man standing in front of her.
Speaking of Mr. Sexy… he stared at the door long after Rachel left. He stood in the middle of the room, feet spread wide, like a fish out of water. Lost physically… and maybe a bit emotionally, too. Carla may have sworn off bad boys, but she could never resist a wounded soul. “We closed about an hour ago because of the storm, but I might be able to wrangle you something out of the back. At least I could draw you a beer.”
He bit his lower lip.
She pictured nibbling that lip, kissing him, working her way across his cheek to his ear… Stop it. What in the heck was she doing? She had no business fantasizing about the leather-clad hunk. Just get him something to eat and send him on his way.
He nodded and stepped toward her. “A soda’s fine. And anything you have from the back is great.”
She gestured across the room. “Well, go ahead and have a seat at the bar.”
She headed toward the kitchen and the man stepped behind her, sliding onto a stool as she rounded the bar. She poured him a soda.
He didn’t say anything else, just smiling and nodding.
She could handle a man of few words. Who needed words when a gentle touch, a soft stroke… She shook her head. This man didn’t come in here so she could mentally undress him. “Be right back.”
As soon as Carla stepped through the swinging door, she collapsed against the wall. Just breathe. Her heart raced and her breath came in spurts. That man could stare through solid rock... and he’d turned his intensity her way. She waved her hand in front of her face. She didn’t even know the man’s name.
“Hey, Diego, you got anything hot back here? The guy out front wanted to know.”
“Yeah, give me a sec.”
The wait gave Carla a moment to compose herself. You will not flirt with the sexy man. You will not flirt with the sexy man. Sweat beaded on her lip and pooled between her breasts. Her J.J.’s T-shirt stuck to her and she pulled the fabric away from her sweaty body. No use. No chance he wouldn’t notice her flushed cheeks.
Diego slid a plate of hot wings and ranch dressing onto the counter. “Here ya’ go, Carla.”
“Thanks, man. You should head out before the weather gets too bad out there.”
“Will do. See ya’ tomorrow.”
Carla backed through the swinging door. She turned toward the bar and froze. The man’s leather jacket now lay flung over the stool. Okay, he was going to have to put the jacket back on or no way would she be able to concentrate. No one had a chest like that. Not in real life. Her fingers itched to smooth over the soft fabric of his black T-shirt, to run her hands over the defined muscles, to snake her arms around his neck.
Thick biceps inked with multiple tattoos stretched the cuffs of his T-shirt, his sinewy forearms propped on the bar. This man sitting in front of her was sex personified. And he was staring back at her.
She cleared her throat. “Diego threw in some chicken wings. I hope that’s okay.”
He nodded. “Great. I really appreciate you guys going out of your way.”
“Not a problem.” Carla poured herself a beer and propped her foot on the brass rod at the base of the bar. The cold beer soothed her throat. Anything to cool down her racing libido.
The man dipped a wing in the dressing and brought the luscious meat to his mouth, acting like nothing phased him. How could he be so calm when her body was screaming out of control?
Joey stepped out from the kitchen. “Hey, Carla. I’m heading out. You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, Joey. I’m fine. Just waiting for…” She turned back to the man. “I don’t even know your name.”
The man stood and extended his hand to Joey. “Butch Daniels.”
After shaking Butch’s hand, Joey crossed his arms across his chest. “Nice to meet you, Butch. What brings you out in this storm?”
“Got back into town tonight. Thought I’d grab a bite at Last Call. Instead I found you.”
“Well, welcome to J.J.’s. I took over a couple months ago.” Pride laced each of Joey’s words. He’d worked hard to lose the biker image and attract a more family-friendly crowd, at least during the day. A bar crowd typically showed later at night.
Butch nodded. “Nice lookin’ place. Good luck to you.”
“Thanks.” Joey beamed. Carla was happy for her friend and his success, despite the skeptics who said at only twenty-four years old, he’d never succeed.
Joey leaned close. “You sure you’re okay? I can wait.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll lock up after he’s done.”
Joey eyed Butch suspiciously and then turned back to Carla.
Maybe there was something in Butch’s eyes, but she knew she was safe.
“As long as you’re sure.”
She nodded. Joey trusted her with his business, and she would do everything she could to maintain that trust. But the care he showed toward her, that was personal. They’d become friends the day he hired her. He took a chance on her and she would do everything to keep that trust.
Joey left, leaving Carla and Butch alone. The silence grew between them as he dipped another wing in dressing. She wiped the bar and tucked a few glasses into the dishwasher underneath the counter. Anything to keep her hands busy.
“Your name’s Carla?”
She rubbed her hands down her pants and then extended one to Butch. “Yeah, sorry. I’m Carla Rogers.”
The minute he shook her hand, jolts shot through her body and settled deep in her belly. He held on longer than necessary, his large hand engulfed her smaller one, his rough palm brushing against hers. “Nice to meet you. Butch Daniels.”
She quirked an eye at him. “Why do I think your mama didn’t give you that name?”
He laughed, the deep rumble vibrating her entire body and sending another shock straight to her core. His smile quirked into a wolfish grin. “That’s getting a little personal, considering we just met, now isn’t it?”
She laughed. If he only knew what she’d been thinking about him. Now that was personal.
He shoved the plate halfway across the bar. “There’s way too many of these wings here. How about you pull up a barstool and join me?”
She stared at the plate for a long time. She really shouldn’t. Too many hook-ups with bad boys left a bad taste in her mouth. And this man had bad boy written all over him. She’d finally settled down in a good job and a place of her own. She’d do well to say thank you very much and head in the back until he finished.
But, playing it safe was never her strong suit.
She topped off her beer, rounded the bar, and climbed onto the seat beside him.
Chapter Three
“NOW ISN’T THIS better?” Butch spun the stool so he could get a better look at the sexy blonde.
“Much.”
“So tell me about yourself.” Stop it, Butch. Just eat your wings and get the hell out. He had no business flirting with the sexy bartender. From the moment he laid eyes on her, stirrings he hadn’t felt in months coursed through his body. Why now, when he finally had his head on straight? He had his first shift tomorrow and Carla would just be a distraction. He didn’t have time for distractions.
The wind whipped snow in gusts against the bar window. Crap, the storm was much worse now. How long had he been here? Why didn’t he turn around and leave when he realized Last Call was gone? He didn’t have to ask. All of his blood had rushed south when he laid eyes on Carla.
Now he was stuck. She might be, too. Hmm, that had possibilities. Stop it, Butch. He had no business thinking that way about her. He was no better than the asshole he’d beaten up, t
he way his mind was going.
She nibbled on her lower lip. If he closed the distance, just a little, he could nibble the pouty lip for her, slip his tongue into her mouth…. He shifted to hide his thickening groin and wrapped his boots around the stool to keep from leaning over and kissing her.
She still hadn’t answered. Maybe she hid demons of her own.
“Not much to tell, I guess. I’m an only child. I moved to Oak Grove about six months ago.”
Six months. How had he not met her before he left town? “You didn’t work at Last Call, did you?”
“Me? No. I came here once or twice, but I got the job when Joey first bought the bar and turned it into a restaurant.”
If she’d been to Last Call, she must have a thing for motorcycles. Or at least guys who rode motorcycles. Women didn’t just happen into a motorcycle club without a good reason. “I’m surprised I didn’t meet you before. I used to come here, well, there, all the time.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “Then how didn’t you know the bar had closed?”
“I’ve been out of town for the last few months.” And before that, he’d been so distracted he probably wouldn’t have noticed her right in front of his face. But he wasn’t going to bitch about things he couldn’t change. As long as he was stuck here, they could talk about her.
He dipped another wing into the dressing. Carla licked her lips. What was running through that pretty little head of hers? Before he could stop himself, he extended his hand. But instead of taking his offering, she wrapped her lips around the wing and sucked the meat off the bone.
Holy hell.
He threw the bone in the basket, swiped his fingers on a napkin, and leaned forward. After hesitating a moment, searching her eyes for silent approval, he closed the distance and kissed her. What in the hell was he doing? He ignored the little voice telling him to run far away from this woman, to keep her clean from the demons that dirtied his life.
Her eyelids closed and she sighed, giving herself over to him. The fiery zest of hot sauce and the savory dressing exploded on his tongue for just a moment. He had no business kissing this woman.
She opened her eyes. Her eyes bored into him like she could see every broken piece of his soul.
He shuddered, the scrutiny a painful reminder of everything he’d shoved away.
She mumbled under her breath and brought her beer to her lips.
“What was that?” He teased her. Maybe she’d flash him that smile that lit the room when he walked in.
“Oh, nothing.”
She mumbled something else and he laughed.
She grabbed a wing and in just a few more minutes, they emptied the plate.
That was his cue. He swiped a napkin over his mouth and stood. “Well, Carla. It’s been really nice to meet you.”
Carla’s gaze darted to the door and then back to him. She bit her lip and mumbled to herself. Those cute little mumbles. What was she afraid of? What was she thinking? As he turned to the door, she placed a warm hand on his arm, a shock coursing through his body and landing squarely below his belt.
Her voice was quiet, tentative. “Do you have to go? So soon?”
He hesitated. He had no business considering her offer, but he felt more alive in these few minutes around Carla than he had in a long time. That alone should have him running for the door. “I really should. The storm is getting bad out there. I probably shouldn’t have stayed this long, but…”
She lowered her head, color rising on her cheeks. A deep sigh escaped her pouty lips.
He popped another quick kiss on her lips. Her arms snaked around his neck. He had to stop this before they got completely out of hand. “No worries, pretty girl. I know where to find you.”
He grabbed his helmet and headed to the door. Just before he stepped into the storm, he turned. She hadn’t moved, her feet planted on the floor and her mouth hanging open. He winked, threw his jacket on, and left.
SNOW AND COLD air blasted him when he moved away from the shelter of the building. He lowered his shoulder and pushed against the wind. As soon as he reached his bike, though, he had a new problem… snow billowed halfway up the wheels. Damn. No way he was getting home on the bike in this weather. He could call Radar to bring the rig, and come back for the bike later. But when Butch checked his watch, his hopes deflated. Radar had already packed up for the night.
Butch was stuck.
Speaking of which… he checked the parking lot. How was Carla getting home? Had she been left stranded because he wouldn’t leave?
Now both of them would be stuck bunking on the booths. One bright side, he could get to know her better. She didn’t reveal much when he’d asked earlier, but with a little time, he could wear her down.
He stomped back to the door. Thankfully, the roof over the door gave him a little cover from the snow. But not the wind. He pulled his jacket tighter. The cold blew through his leathers and needle-like pain pierced his skin. He shivered and bounced on his toes.
He jiggled the door handle. No joy.
He pounded on the door, his palm stinging against the hard wood. No answer. He shielded his eyes and peered through the window. Empty. He pounded again. Nothing.
She must have headed into the kitchen after locking up. Maybe there was a back door.
The blowing winds nearly knocked him off his feet as he stomped around the building. He turned his shoulder and braced his feet, each step harder than the first. Once he rounded the corner, he spied a car parked next to a door in the back.
Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door flew open and the woman in question slammed into him. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling. Yeah, he could tell himself that for hours but that wouldn’t make it true.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you out here.” She grabbed a bag off the ground and flung the garbage in the dumpster. She glanced beyond him to the swirling snow and blowing drifts. “Oh, this storm is worse than I thought.”
“I know. I’m so sorry I kept you so late. I can’t take my bike out on these roads. Can I bunk in the restaurant for the night?” He gestured across the parking lot. “I’m afraid your car won’t fare much better.”
She scanned the parking lot one more time then motioned for him to follow her. After securing the back door, she headed down a long hall. They passed several closed doors, stepped over boxes of supplies and the hall eventually opened up into a gleaming kitchen, every surface spotless, every item put away.
“Impressive. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a restaurant kitchen before.”
She chuckled. “It’s nothing special. Joey prides himself on running a top-notch joint. He treats us well, especially the kitchen staff. He even takes a shift or two back here himself. He makes us want to work hard. He’s a great boss.”
The words flowed off her tongue easily. Maybe too easily. Was there something more between them? If so, Joey wouldn’t have left her to fend for herself in this storm, would he?
If she worked for Butch, if she dated him, he certainly wouldn’t be leaving her behind. He’d be dragging her home to make love in front of a roaring fire while the storm raged outside. Whoa, wait, where did that come from?
Lack of sleep, preceded by months of anguish. Maybe ignoring women the past few months wasn’t the best idea. But he couldn’t give a woman more than a quick hookup as long as the demons haunted him.
Regardless, he and Carla were stuck here now. He may need a double-shot of caffeine to get through his shift tomorrow, but he’d suck down the entire pot if it meant he got to spend more time with her.
He made his way toward the front. His back was going to be hurting in the morning from squeezing his six-foot-four frame on that little booth using only his jacket as a pillow. But anything was better than being stuck out in the storm. “Thanks for letting me crash here. I’ll take a booth in the corner, be out of your hair in the morning.”
“No!”
He stopped short. “What? I’m sorry. I thought
you said I could stay tonight. That’s not a problem, I’ll go.”
He pulled his jacket back on.
She wrung her hands together and worried her lip. He’d tasted that lip, stroked his tongue over it, tasted the sweetness of ranch dressing on her tongue. He itched to lean over and pull her swollen flesh between his teeth, nibbling and sucking…
“I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. What I mean is there’s a perfectly good couch upstairs you can sleep on.”
There had been a set of steps right by the back door. He wouldn’t take her couch, though, since she was stuck here because of him. No way would he put her out that way. “I’m not taking your place to sleep. You’re not getting out of here anytime soon, either. A booth will be fine.”
“It’s not a problem. Come on.” She extended her hand. He stared at her a moment, then grabbed it, wrapping his large hand around her smaller, more delicate one. She looked down to their hands and back to him before turning without a word and pulling him toward the back.
He followed her up the narrow, dark stairs and around the corner before stepping into a well-lit room. This wasn’t a storeroom but a fully furnished apartment.
Carla release his hand and left him standing in the doorway as she made her way across the room.
His entire cottage could probably fit inside this living room alone. The high ceilings and exposed beams gave the space a rustic appearance. The décor made it a home.
“Can I make you a cup of coffee? How do you take it?” she yelled from the kitchen.
“That’d be great. Just black.”
The lacy curtains and colorful pillows strewn on the plush couch showed him a side of Carla she hid below the surface. He’d never have pegged her for a girly girl, especially after she mentioned hanging out at Last Call.
He slid his helmet onto a table beside him and flung his jacket over a chair next to the window.
He turned his back to the room and stared out the window. Snow blew heavy and fast outside and clung to everything, including what he presumed to be Carla’s car. He craned his neck. His bike was still out front, barely visible beneath the snow. He should have wheeled it around back but all of his blood rushed south the minute Carla opened the door.
Last Call_A Small-Town Romance Page 2
