“Should I?”
“She's April's little sister.”
Reid did a double-take. No way. “That's April's sister?”
“Yeah. Evie said she hasn't changed back to her maiden name yet. My guess is she likes the sound of Whitfield better than Snodder.”
No wonder Reid hadn't recognized the name. “Didn't she used to be…” He waved one hand. “What's the word?”
“Plain? Chunky?”
Dang, that sounded harsh. But, yeah, compared to Homecoming Queen April, Brynne had been the ordinary one.
Like other things around this town, a lot had changed.
“Forget it, Reid. Evie fills in at the store when Brynne's shorthanded and they're friends. Do us all a favor and stay clear.”
Twenty-four. He could handle that. In spite of his foul mood, Reid ripped off a grin. “But I'm bored and Jonah pissed me off.”
And he knew Grif could sympathize. Here they were, brothers roped into helping to revitalize the Ridge because Jonah did his thing and managed to save the town from bankruptcy. Now, in a truly let-me-shove-this-up-your-ass flash of brilliance on their kid brother's part, the Steele family had their name on the town.
Reid looked across the hood at Grif and held up his thumb. “Boredom.” His index finger went next. “Anger. Not a good combination for me. Throws my chakras all out of whack.”
At that Grif burst out laughing. “What the hell are you talking about? Chakras.”
“I don't know. One of the guys in my unit used to say that all the time. 'Dude, your chakras are blocked.'“
He always meant to look that up and had never done it. Now it seemed he had the time. And who knew, maybe this chakra thing could eventually get him out of being chained to Steele Ridge.
Grif pointed to the truck bed. “What's in those boxes?”
Heh, heh, heh. The boxes. He'd just picked those babies up from the post office because they wouldn't deliver them without a signature and nobody had been home at the house.
Until he had a look at the contents of said boxes, he wasn't sharing. No sir.
“Nothing. Just some shit I ordered.”
A siren wailed and the two of them spotted Maggie, their cousin and Steele Ridge's top cop, screaming out of the sheriff's office parking lot, lights flashing on her cruiser. She honked as she roared by and Reid rolled his lip out, felt a stab of jealousy because his favorite cousin apparently had some action to tend to.
Even if it was Steele Ridge action and probably amounted to a nine-year-old breaking a neighbor's window.
Grif's phone rang and big brother stared at the screen a sec, clearly deciding whether to swipe it away.
“It's the mayor. I'm late for this meeting. You good?”
Ha. Now that was a loaded question.
He glanced back at the sidewalk where the sweet thing with the world's best ass headed toward the Triple B. Maybe he'd kill two birds with one stone here. Drown his anger while admiring the insanely attractive ass of the she's-not-that-young Brynne.
“I'm gonna grab a beer. See if I can find someone to keep me company.”
“Oh, boy,” Grif said. “You got that hound dog look. I'm telling you, don't do it. She's a nice girl and I don't need you getting one of the business owners in a snit.”
Reid laughed, then flipped his middle finger up. “Piss. Off.”
* * *
Brynne walked into the bar side of the Triple B—Blues, Brews, and Books—and scanned the tables. The lunch rush had long past thinned out and the early dinner folks had started to wander in, but only a few tables and a couple of barstools were occupied.
For years this space had been the town café, but since taking over the lease, Randi, the new owner, had converted the storefront between Brynne's shop and the bar into a coffee shop and Little Free Library.
“Hey, girl,” Randi said from her spot behind the bar.
She wore her dark blond hair back today and her green eyes sparkled, leaving Brynne, as usual, entranced and more than a little jealous over Randi's ability to be beautiful while wearing a graphic T-shirt and minimal makeup.
How was that even fair when Brynne spent ninety minutes on hair and makeup?
Randi wiped her hands on a rag and leaned into the bar. “You're not usually here in the middle of the afternoon. Everything okay?”
“Yep. Meeting Nelson for a few minutes.”
“Ah.”
Nelson, her childhood friend, had been a constant in her life, and lately had been helping her rebuild that life after her husband decided to dump her for his skinny, fair-haired intern. Men, in Brynne's opinion, were the enemy. Well, all men but Nelson. Nelson, in many ways, had saved her. For that she'd love him—in a completely platonic way—forever. No question.
“Hey,” she said to Randi, “stop by later. A new shipment came in last night. There's a red miniskirt you might like.”
“Ooh, I love when you get new stuff.”
Brynne had spent all morning sorting through the shipment from the designer, an up-and-coming genius she'd met when she'd been living up north and attended New York Fashion Week.
Her marriage and life in New York were over, but she'd learned a lot while there and made some great contacts with newbie designers.
So she'd ordered a few things from Gilian's spring line to shake things up in Steele Ridge.
If only she could pull off that little crotch-length number herself, life would be grand.
Miniskirts didn't always play nice with women built like her. Women with curves.
And cellulite. And a giant rear. Still, maybe she'd try it on to see.
Something drew Randi's gaze and Brynne glanced over her shoulder to find Reid Steele, the most perfectly chiseled hunk of man she might have ever set eyes on, entering the Triple B. Reid had gone to school with her sister and even back then he was a hottie. Now, he'd been back in town for a few months, since his stint with the Army ended. Between the dark hair and muscles, a Reid sighting sent every female hormone in town fluttering.
Brynne's included. Except she only wanted to look. Looking was harmless. Looking didn't require the gutting, soul-sucking, emotional annihilation of relationships.
Besides, she'd sworn off men for the next five years.
Particularly ones like Reid. From the time she was ten and Reid sixteen, she'd been watching her older sister roll through boys while Reid did just as much rolling with the girls.
In the backseat of his car.
At least that's what Brynne had heard. And looking at him? All that swagger and cool confidence, she didn't doubt it.
“Ladies,” he said as he strode toward them and settled onto the bar stool next to Brynne.
“Hi, Reid,” she said. “Nice work with the ducks.”
He slid off his sunglasses and his deep blue eyes—stormy ocean—zoomed in on her, traveled over her face, settling on her lips, and the usual nagging insecurity poked at her. Stupid ex-husband. They'd met as sophomores in college after she'd come so far in slaying her childhood demons. College had been paradise. Newly confident and shedding weight, little by little, Brynne had enjoyed freedom from her insecurities and then…New York, where her kind, amiable Kurt turned into an aggressive and highly critical up-and-comer. He scrutinized her appearance daily, sometimes hourly, until she was afraid to leave the house without his appraisal.
At least until he dumped her.
She lifted her fingers to her lips. The lipstick. She'd tried a new shade today, hadn't liked it and rubbed it off. Maybe she'd gotten some on her face.
No. She'd checked. Five times. She dropped her hand, forced herself to be still. To not step back or run from the blast of Reid Steele's focused attention. The man was so darned intense. Totally unnerving.
“Thanks,” he said. “Always ready to please a woman in distress.”
At that, Brynne snorted and Randi mockingly fanned herself. Such a man.
“What can I get you, Reid?” Randi asked.
He snagged the menu from the hold
er on the bar. “I'll have a beer to start. Whatever's on tap. And you know I'm digging your Gouda burger. I'll have one of those, too. Medium rare.”
“You got it.”
Randi set a beer in front of him and wandered off to the kitchen, leaving Brynne alone with the hunk of all hunks. Great. What would they, the chubby girl and the beefcake, possibly have to talk about?
He pushed his sunglasses and keys off to the side and swiveled to her, once again storming her with all his attention. Fighting the urge to make herself smaller, she threw her shoulders back and sucked in her stomach.
“So,” he said, “I…uh…need a gift for Evie.”
Evie. Yay. Neutral ground. Plus, Brynne loved Evie. She only got to see her on weekends since she was away at school, but even with their four-year age difference, they'd immediately clicked when Evie started working at the shop.
If Brynne remembered correctly, Miss Evie had a birthday coming up.
“I was in your shop the other day,” Reid said. “You weren't there.”
“I have part-timers that help out.”
“I couldn't figure out what to get her, but I'll tell ya, it smelled good in there.”
“It's potpourri,” Brynne said. “Made by a friend with neroli oil. If customers like it, I'll start carrying it in the store.”
“My mom goes for all that stuff.”
Ah. Potential sale already. “I'll give you some to take to her. She can be my test case.”
She set her purse on the bar, snatched her iPad out and tapped at the screen. “I have Evie's wish list in my customer file.”
“Her wish list?”
“Yes. If customers see something they like, they tell me and I add it to their file. Kind of like a bridal registry.”
Reid scrunched his face. “A what?”
How cute was he? She entered Evie's name into her customer file and…yep. Birthday next month.
Beside her, Reid shifted and she glanced back to see his insanely haunting eyes sliding down her body, landing, if her guess was correct, on her butt.
She bolted upright, casually angling sideways and hiding the ginormous continent known as her rear. The one her ex-husband insisted would get smaller if she lowered her fat intake.
Forget him. She cleared her throat, drawing Reid's gaze back to her face. “You must be getting ahead of your shopping.”
The comment was met with silence. And a straight-faced look of bewilderment.
“Uh, getting ahead?”
What was she missing here? She rolled one hand. “Evie. Her birthday is next month.”
“Shit,” Reid said.
Oh, my. “I thought that's what you needed a gift for.”
His lips quirked and he ran his hand over his face before hitting her with the full-wattage I-am-the-man smile that had probably taken out half the female population on the Eastern seaboard.
“Busted me,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“I…uh…saw you outside. Wanted to say hello.”
Well, that was neighborly, but, really, she didn't even know him. Sure, she knew of him, everyone in this town knew the Steeles. But he certainly didn't know her and didn't need to go out of his way to say hello.
She cocked her head and the corner of his mouth lifted. “I used Evie as an excuse. To talk to you.”
Okay. What was she supposed to say to that?
“Alrighty,” he said. “I've definitely lost my touch because I'm hitting on you and you don't even know it.”
Hitting on her? The man who induced flash-mob panty drops was hitting on her? Even if men weren't the scum of the earth, who'd have guessed Reid Steele, master of the orgasm—if the rumors were true—would even notice her.
Not plain-old Brynne. Her normal truckload of makeup and big hair helped, but she still couldn't compete with her sister's natural beauty and sculpted bones.
A flaming ball of heat rushed up her throat and she whirled away before her face flooded with color. “Um.” She stuffed the iPad back into her purse. “There's a bracelet Evie wants. They're like bangles, but they have different charms you can add.”
“Bangles?”
Without looking at him, she held her wrist up. “This. Sterling silver. How much did you want to spend?”
“Whatever. If that's what she wants.”
“Yep,” she chirped. “That's what she wants. You can keep buying her charms.” Still refusing to look at him—five-year plan, five-year plan, five-year plan—she tapped a note into her phone. “I can set one aside for you when I go back to the store. Shall I wrap it for you?”
Reid dug into the back pocket of his jeans, and his T-shirt stretched across his chest and—wow—the guy was ripped.
And then ripped some more.
Total man candy.
He slapped his wallet on the bar. “Wrapping it would be good. How much?”
“Eighty-five. Plus tax.”
His eyes widened. “Holy hell, my sister thinks all her brothers are billionaires. Let's bill that to Jonah.”
She stared back at him, mute. Dear God, what was wrong with her? He'd made that damned crack about hitting on her and now she was totally thrown.
Reid let out a huffing laugh. “I'm going down in flames here. Brynne, I'm kidding. It's a running joke in my family. Bill everything to Jonah.” He waved it away. “Never mind. I don't have that much cash on me. I'll stop in and you can run my card. That work?”
She put her phone back into her purse, went to move the purse to a stool, knocked over the cup of straws Randi had on the edge of the bar, and decided she wanted to die right then.
They both reached for the cup, their fingers tangling together and—wow, he had awesome hands. A little rough at the fingertips and work-hardened and enough to make a girl's skin go hot.
She snapped her hand back.
Reid righted the cup and replaced the straws that had spilled out.
“Thank you.”
“Brynne?”
“Yes?”
“Do I make you nervous or something?”
Ha! Nervous. If he only knew. He was a nice guy. Everything she'd heard about him said so. A good guy who didn't mind helping out a neighbor. Fixing a lawnmower, changing a tire, shoveling a driveway, whatever.
Yes, he had a reputation as a player, but so what? According to the gossipmongers, he never misled anyone. He simply liked sex. Most men did. She'd learned that the hard way.
But since he'd walked into the bar, he'd been respectful—aside from staring at her rear, of course—and now he'd asked her a question. One he deserved an answer to.
She met his gaze, let those eyes of his scrape the crud off something she'd tried so hard to bury.
“Not nervous,” she said. “I'm just…” She flapped her arms.
“What?”
“Terrified.”
2
Terrified? What in hell did that mean?
Now he was the one cocking his head. This conversation had definitely flown above him. He paused for a second, took note of the Luke Bryan song playing on the ancient jukebox. “What does that mean?” He sniffed his pits. “Do I smell bad?”
Finally, the sweet thing smiled and it lit up her entirely over-made-up face. He'd never understand why pretty women plastered all that crap on their faces. And the hair? Jeez, she had enough spray on there to withstand a hurricane. But, he'd admit, it fell into a nice long swoop over her shoulders that must have taken some time to get right.
The whole deal fired his engines on all kinds of levels. Pure sex. And hot. And sweet.
She shook her adorable head, looked down at her feet. “No. You don't smell.”
Just then, Cherlyn Marstin cruised by, overheard Brynne's comment and broke out laughing. Great. Back in the day, he and Cherlyn had hooked up for a minute before he'd gone off to college in search of anything bigger than the Ridge. It wasn't that he disliked his hometown. He enjoyed the comforts of it, the sameness that came with coming home and knowing everyone and the
ir business.
But he’d craved something more. Something that would force him to stretch his mind and let him grow.
How ironic that all that growing landed his butt right back home, in the Triple B, falling back on his old tricks of trying to get laid.
The Luke Bryan song ended, making room for Little Big Town, and Reid moved closer to Brynne. Close enough to get a whiff of her perfume. Something sultry. Vanilla maybe? Almonds? He didn't know. He liked it, though.
“I don't want to make you uncomfortable,” he said. “I'm sorry.”
“It's not you. I'm…I'm divorced. About six months ago.”
Ah, crap. Grif could have mentioned that. Information, when dealing with women, was key. If he'd known about the divorce, maybe he'd have handled this differently. Not been so, what? Aggressive?
He nodded. “I see. So because you're divorced, I make you nervous.”
She grinned at him again and holy crap, she was cute. “I've sworn off men. For five years.”
“That's a long time.”
Still with her head down, she nodded.
Okay. Enough. He lifted his hand, set one finger under her chin and tipped her head up. “I'm up here, sweet thing. And I'm guessing this guy must have shredded you.”
“Something like that.”
“Damn near ruined you for all the rest of us schmucks. If you ask me—” he laughed at himself, “—hell, even if you don't ask, I'll tell you. I think it would suck if you let one guy take you out of commission for five years. I mean, that right there, that's a crime against men.”
Her mouth dropped open. “A crime against…”
Oh, yeah. That got her going. A flyer on his part, but it got a reaction out of her. Now he had to argue it. Which, considering the ridiculous factor, might be a challenge.
But that never stopped him. “I mean, think about it. Never mind you having to be celibate for five years.” He threw his hand over his heart. “Sweet baby Jesus, save me. Who are you punishing? You get divorced and we men think”—he waved his arms—”woo-hoo, she's available. And then you go and swear off men and we're like boo-hiss. I'm telling you, it's a crime against men. In fact, I'm going down to Maggie's office and I'm telling her. Mags loves me, she'll arrest you. No kidding.”
Living Fast: Steele Ridge Series Page 2
