“Are you the one meddling around town with this Hollywood nonsense?” A man as old as the hills with very few teeth came tottering over to me. His back formed the shape of a C and he didn’t quite reach my height.
“Hello, sir. I’m Violet.” I extended my hand. He bapped it away with annoyance.
“Let me tell you a thing or two, missy. We don’t want your kind around here.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I took my hand back. I hadn’t been expecting his rebuff. I’d been warned that not everyone would welcome the idea of a show filmed in Watson, but so far Heath was the only one who’d voiced any real dissent. A few others had scratched their heads and wondered about whether it made good sense, but mostly we’d been met with excitement and enthusiasm. Like that little hussy of a kindergarten teacher over there in the corner throwing her head back with laughter over something Heath had said. Bitch.
“In my day, we knew to keep well enough alone. We didn’t have any of these Kim Karsmashians and Brittney Spears—”
“Hello there, Fred. How’re you tonight?” Mayor Marty winked at me, wrapped an arm around old Fred’s shoulders and tried to guide him toward the bar. But Fred wasn’t having it.
“I’m going to say my piece!” The elderly man raised his voice. “This little girl’s causing trouble! And if you’re all too stupid to see it, I’m not going to just stand around!”
“Hey, Fred.” Heath showed up by my side. He extended his hand to the old man, and this time the man stopped and shook it.
“Good to see you, Heath,” he said.
“Good to see you, too. How’s your fence holding up?”
“All right, thanks to you.”
“Glad to hear it. Now, Fred, I heard what you had to say about this idea of a show here in Watson. And I agree with you. But what I’m thinking is we should settle it in a town meeting. That way we can all speak our minds. And Violet here can enjoy her Friday night.”
Old Fred still eyed me with suspicion, but he didn’t say anything else.
“Meanwhile, let me buy you a beer.” And with that, Heath took Fred off to the bar.
“He rescued you.” Sam appeared by my side, swooping down like a hawk after a fat and vulnerable mouse.
“Not really,” I protested, though that was exactly how it had felt. He’d done it so smoothly, without offending anyone or causing a scene. And had he mended that old man’s fence? That was nice. I tried to picture Vincent, my male model casual L.A. fling mending a fence. He wouldn’t mind posing for photos next to a fence. He’d even take his shirt off and pretend to be working on it if the shoot required. But actual mending? No.
Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard from Vincent at all the whole week. And even more interestingly, it hadn’t occurred to me until just now. Out of sight, out of mind. I guessed he felt the same way.
“Sorry about that.” Mayor Marty came back over to us, all apologetic. “There’s a few holdouts. It’ll take some doing to win them over. But a town hall forum is a good idea. People’ll like that.”
“Sure, of course,” I agreed, wondering what a town hall forum entailed. It sounded like the kind of thing presidential candidates staged to make it seem like they were having an authentic interaction with everyday folk. But who knew if we even wanted to win over these townspeople? Sam and I were still on the fence about whether there was enough story here for a show.
“You all right?” Strong man to the rescue, Tom the handsome fire warden came on over and looked at me with concern.
“Sure,” I answered, smiling, but really I was thinking he was a little late. Heath had been the one to step in and save the day.
“Tell me, how’s your Friday so far?” He settled in by my side. Talking and flirting with this man candy was second nature to me. He was easy—easy on the eyes, easy to talk to, and he’d be easy to say goodbye to at the end of the night. Much easier and safer than talking with Heath. Plus, it got Sam off the scent. I didn’t want him thinking there was anything going on between me and Heath. I didn’t trust Sam more than I could throw him, but he didn’t weigh much so I could probably throw him a couple feet at least.
Someone started playing some music and people started hooting and dancing, Friday night in Watson. A couple of guys asked firefighter Tom to play pool, and he excused himself with a “duty calls.”
Not long after, a much more glaring, brooding man towered by my side. We stood together by the wall, each sipping our drink, the air between us crackling with electricity.
“I see you’ve met our town stud,” Heath finally said.
“Do you mean Tom? Yes, he’s quite handsome.” I liked seeing Heath unsettled.
He grumbled. “He’ll light your fire and put it out. Full service.”
“I noticed you seem close with the town cheerleader.” I tilted my glass over to little Miss Kindergarten now flirting her ass off by the pool table.
Heath smiled down at me. “Jealous?”
“Of her? Please.”
“No, you wouldn’t be jealous.” He shook his head. “I’m not your type. You told me that.”
“You’re not,” I insisted. “You have a beard.”
“This thing?” He rubbed his jaw and laughed. “You should have seen me a month ago.”
“Your beard used to be bigger?”
“Someone told me it was the size of a watermelon.”
My eyes grew wide. “Was it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Why’d you cut it?”
“My gram asked me to.”
His gram? That was sweet. I took a sip of my cider, no snappy comeback at the ready.
He looked down at me. “Why do you seem surprised?”
I shrugged. “I guess I didn’t picture you with a gram.”
“How do you think I came to be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you grew like a mighty oak in the woods.”
“Mighty, huh?” He winked at me. “You have no idea.”
I blushed. I bet he was mighty. I’d felt the length of him the other day, his hard shaft pressing against me through his jeans.
“But I think I’ll grow my beard again,” he continued. “Because I know you don’t like beards.”
“Good idea,” I agreed. “And I know I’m not your type, either,” I reminded him. He’d told me himself.
“That’s right. You’re not.”
“But you haven’t told me why.” I tilted my head and looked up at him. Big mistake. He looked so devilishly handsome, a smile pulling at those lips of his. Why weren’t they on me right now?
“Around here we’d call you high maintenance.” And that was why.
“Do you mean that I’ve washed recently?” I asked sweetly.
“Good to see you two getting along!” Mayor Marty came along, inserted himself between us and put an arm around both of our shoulders. I missed Heath instantly. Heath grunted, I sipped my cider, and Marty pattered along oblivious. Before long, Heath excused himself. But Sam sidled right up next to me where he’d been standing.
“You naughty bitch!” Sam whispered to me under his breath. Nothing got by him.
“What?” I played dumb.
“You found yourself a lumberjack. I’m so jealous.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I dismissed the idea, but I flushed as I did it.
“You’re all pink!” Sam exclaimed, eyes wide.
“No, I’m not.”
“You are! Ooo, you like him!” Middle school. Just when you’d thought you’d put it all behind you, it reared its ugly head yet again.
Heath settled himself in at the bar talking with the bartender. They must be buddies. I joined the guys over by the pool table. They loved teasing me. What did an L.A. girl know about playing pool? It would have been awesome to be a ringer, bat my eyelashes and then school them all like a veteran pool shark. But, honestly, I sucked at pool. I’d never played it growing up, and the kinds of bars I went to didn’t exactly feature dartboards and pool tables. Orchids, outdoor seati
ng, water features, these were my native language. Breaking, racking up, scratching? Not so much. Well, scratching I was quickly becoming familiar with.
But not knowing a thing about pool did have its advantages. It made flirting a breeze. Plenty of guys lined up to show me how to set up a shot, standing behind me and guiding me into just the right angle. It was fine. It was fun. But they weren’t Heath. The man I wanted to be with sat over at the bar, completely uninterested.
I guessed I should be thankful. It didn’t seem as if he’d breathed a word to anyone about us hooking up. Mauling each other, really. I didn’t see a single whispered comment or knowing wink, anything to suggest anyone knew I’d been a bad girl. Damn, did I want to be bad with him again. Those few minutes bantering with him against the wall had left me feeling all shaken and stirred.
He had such amazing hands. He even made holding a beer bottle look sexy, his hands were so big wrapped around the glass. He worked with them for a living, making such incredible furniture and art. And the way he touched me.
Fire warden Tom touched me then, a hand around my waist to supposedly guide me toward my next shot. It was harmless. It affected me much less than just the memory of Heath’s touch a few days ago.
But over at the bar, I caught Heath glaring. The moment our eyes met, he turned away. I gave an annoyed little puff and put too much force into my next shot, hitting absolutely nothing. It was Heath’s fault. What was his deal sitting there glaring? If he didn’t want me over here flirting with the boys, he should stop being so mean to me, telling me I should leave. If he wanted me the way it felt like he did, he should say so.
When I looked over again, he’d gone. All right, I guess that was how things were going to go down between us. Not at all. I should have felt relieved, grateful to be kept on the straight and narrow. Instead I felt all worked up as I drove back to the condo in the SUV he’d swapped out for me. I hadn’t even thanked him for it. I hadn’t had a chance. We’d barely seen each other, and when we did we went at it—literally and figuratively.
I drew myself a bath when I got back. The condo didn’t have anything like a big spa Jacuzzi tub, but the tub in the bathroom still had appeal. It was clean, held hot water and was big enough to submerge myself into. I’d finished off more than a few long, crazy work days with a nice, long soak in a tub. It always soothed my frayed nerves and calmed the jittery energy that powered me through non-stop meetings, shoots on location, networking lunches and drinks, plus the constant stream of texts, emails and phone calls shouting at me, demanding my attention.
But tonight, the bath didn’t settle me down. I had a different current pulsing through me, and it had nothing to do with the typical reasons. Tonight, I was all fired up and raring to go, but it wasn’t because my mind was racing with unreturned calls or memos I needed to draw up and send before sleep.
It was Heath. The way it felt to stand next to him, his huge presence, the heat radiating off of his body. He’d worn a simple long sleeved waffle shirt, nothing trendy or showy, but the way it fit him. The rounded muscles of his shoulders stretching the cotton, the definition of his pecs. I hadn’t even seen him with his shirt off. It wasn’t fair to tease a woman like that.
One hand drifted lazily down my body in the warm water, finding its way between my legs. Slipping a finger in, I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the fantasy, imagine if the night had gone differently. Imagine if he appeared at my door, every giant, glowering inch of him, and backed me up against a wall in seconds flat. He’s press me there, trap my hands up over my head. Maybe I’d just have emerged from the bath, all pink and rosy and naked under my towel. Then there’d be nothing between us, towel on the floor, he’d spread my thighs and touch me the way he did with his thick, rough fingers.
He liked talking dirty to me, coaxing it out of me, making me tell him how much I wanted it. My fingers started working harder, faster, pressing, stroking, plunging into my slick depths. I felt so alive, quivering, panting, pushing against my clit, my other hand up clutching my breast, rolling my nipple between my thumb and forefinger.
I was close, moaning, stroking myself, and I could imagine his huge, magnificent cock, the thick crown at my entrance. Then, all at once, he’d spread me so wide and fuck me, deep and hard.
“Oh!” I cried out and came, shuddering and bucking against my hand in the bath, my back arching up and out of the water as I pressed against my throbbing clit. I was so wet, so slippery and slick with need.
I sank back into the bath, sighing, letting the orgasm subside. But I knew there was a lot more where that came from.
CHAPTER 10
Heath
My workshop used to be my haven. Now even my lathing table reminded me of Violet. The way she’d looked spread out on it, the eager sounds she’d made, how close I’d been to tasting her. Up against that wall right there she’d told me she wanted to taste me.
Fuck. I was hard again, my cock pressing full against my jeans. I’d had more hard-ons in the last nine days since Violet had come to town than I had since early puberty, those awkward years when the sight of any cute girl anywhere had provoked an instant response. No thank you, teacher, I didn’t want to stand up just then, better keep my wood hidden underneath my desk.
Violet had me jerking off like a goddamned teenager. That night at the bar, watching her over at the pool table surrounded by a bunch of local yahoos? They didn’t know how to treat a woman like her. They couldn’t satisfy her like I knew I could. I’d gone home and barely made it into the shower before my hand closed around my cock, picturing her hot little mouth down sucking me as I came. It had taken the edge off, but it hadn’t made it go away. Hell, that night I’d almost climbed into my truck and driven over to her condo.
I’d been walking around clenching my teeth so hard my jaw was starting to ache. And I kind of liked the pain. It took my mind off the ache everywhere else.
Where had my quiet, easy life gone to? I had my brother Ash bothering me, too. He’d texted me again. He needed an answer, was I going to be his best man? And could I make it down to the city for an engagement party? Then I could also get fitted for a tux. All of a sudden my simple life didn’t feel so simple.
I’d successfully gotten away from it all, but now Ash was working his way back in. First, last year, he’d come to me for help. Paparazzi were hounding him. He’d had some trouble with his woman. He needed a place to take refuge. I’d found him a cabin not too far from here, and he’d hidden out for over a month. And during that time I’d realized how much we had in common.
Our father had hated us both, that was probably the most defining feature we shared. And wherever he was now, passed away over a year ago, I’m sure he was still hating on the both of us, his two greatest disappointments. Whereas our oldest brother, Colton, had risen directly in our father’s footsteps to assume the throne of the family business, Ash and I were the misfits. What kind of a Kavanaugh liked woodworking and messing around with motorcycles more than economics and networking at the country club?
My father had never known what to do with me, his hulking giant of a son. I’d gone to the right schools, but never taken the right classes. It drove him crazy that I’d gotten accepted into an Ivy League university, but instead of pledging a fraternity, playing a varsity sport and declaring my business major—essentially establishing my corporate network for the rest of my life—I’d hidden myself away in the machine shop.
And then, right before finally attaining that prestigious degree he’d assumed was a done deal, I’d walked away from it all. I’d started building the cabin on this land as my senior thesis, my culminating design and construct project in the school of engineering sciences. But when professors had started interfering, wanting this change and that re-do, I’d held up my middle finger and moved right into the cabin I’d built exactly the way I wanted where I could be my own man.
A place off the grid. A place where no one asked questions, no one had expectations of you. You could live your lif
e in private, in peace.
And now Violet’s TV network was considering filming a reality show in my town. Why in the hell would they want to do that? There was nothing going on here. That was why I liked it. And yet, she was in Watson to do exactly that. And much to my surprise I could see things starting to fall into place. They were recruiting people, seizing on storylines. Some residents were against it like me, but most seemed all for it.
Like that rat of a fire warden, Tom. He’d fucked anything that moved within a 50-mile radius. He sure as hell wanted to add Violet to that list.
With a swear, I set down my sandpaper. I wasn’t going to get any work done today. Might as well head into town and check on the store. I’d gotten an email inquiry about a piece showing there. I didn’t know if it had already sold or not. I knew I needed a better system, some way to inventory and track my pieces and catalogue my sales. But all that seemed like a constraint. I’d put that off as long as I could.
Before I even knew what I was doing, I washed up and changed my shirt. Like I was getting ready for a date. What, did I hope little Miss L.A. would swing by? I should be growing back my beard, keeping things wild and wooly, maybe adding a big Off Limits sign across my chest while I was at it.
I should be doing more to run her out of town on a rail. We had a town hall meeting set up in a week. I should be rounding up the troops, not helping her out when Old Fred started in on her. But I didn’t like seeing her harassed. And mostly I wondered, was she going to be in town the whole time before the town hall? Because that would be a long week to manage with my hand in the shower.
§
“Wow, that’s so beautiful.”
I recognized her voice the second I heard it. With the population of Watson topping out just over 1700, the odds of running into Violet were too damn high.
She stood in our store, admiring Benny’s glasswork. Benny was mid-40s and happily married and I still didn’t like her admiring his glasswork. I skulked around in back. I could stay there. She’d never even have to know I was around today.
Untamed: (Heath & Violet) (Beg For It) Page 10
