by Jenna Jacob
As Sawyer moved in behind her, his scent, a masculine mixture of leather, sweet grass, and man, stroked her senses. When he placed his palm on the small of her back, she jolted with surprise while tiny pinpricks of heat fanned her skin beneath her shirt. As he chivalrously helped her to her seat, the energy from his touch sent a seismic wave rippling through her.
Either the air in the room shot up a hundred and twelve degrees or Brea was in the throes of a hormone-induced lust-flash. With his hand lingering at the small of her back, the nipple-tightening hottie was turning her inside out. Never before had she ever met a man who evoked such potent and instant sexual attraction.
She needed to say something before he began to wonder if she ate soup with a fork.
Brea somehow found her voice, though it came out low and breathless like a 1-900 sex phone operator. “No, not at all. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
An approving hum sounded in the back of his throat as he sent her a knee-knocking smile.
She had no clue why she was flipping her shit over this ginger-haired cowboy. Maybe it was because everything about him screamed self-assurance. Brea had no doubt the man possessed all the right skills and the stamina to blow her horny little mind. She lifted her chin and forced a smile to keep from eyeing his crotch and doing something stupid, like fall to her knees and peel his snug blue jeans off with her teeth.
As if able to read her thoughts, Sawyer cursed under his breath and then cleared his throat. “What brings you to Haven?”
His innocuous question stilled the air in her lungs. She felt as if her fragile emotions were being tossed to the wind, like dandelion seeds in a summer breeze. Her cheeks caught fire. Sawyer’s copper brows slashed in concern before he darted a curious glance Colton’s way.
Answer him, you fidiot. Lie if you have to, but say something!
“Oh, I-I’m just catching up with old friends,” she stammered.
Sawyer gave her a dubious nod before his expression smoothed and he pinned her with a wide smile. “Well, it’s nice to have such a beautiful woman here to pretty up our town.”
Hands down, the man was a charmer. No doubt he’d charmed the panties off every willing woman in Haven. Even assuming he shared his bedroom skills with half the town didn’t keep her hormones from singing in hopefulness like a Southern Baptist choir.
But Sawyer would never get the chance to plow her lady garden. Not until she found a way to sever the link that connected her pussy to her heart. Most likely a chainsaw couldn’t cut the sucker, and that was a shame of biblical proportions.
Disappointment wrinkled her brow as she settled onto her seat.
Sawyer bent in close to her ear. “I know you’re here for other reasons besides catching up with your friends. I see you carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, darlin’. If you ever want to talk, I can help share that load.”
His ubër-keen observation made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The last thing she needed was the Long Island Medium’s second cousin twice removed to dissect all the piss-poor choices she’d made in her life.
“Are you a psychic, or do you have some weird fetish to help out damsels in distress?”
A sensual smile kicked up one corner of his mouth, and Brea wanted to slide her tongue over the tempting bow.
Sawyer inched in even closer. “Trust me, darlin’. My fetishes might scare a pretty little thing like you.”
The lure of his silky seduction was a torture all its own. Before she could think up a witty comeback, the waitress set a plate of food down in front of her.
“I’ll let y’all enjoy your dinner.” Sawyer lifted his hand from her back. Still devouring her with his gaze, he tipped his white hat. Strands of inviting copper fell over his forehead, and Brea clenched her hands to keep from brushing her fingers through it.
“I hope we get to see each other again before you leave town, Brea. Have a good night, everyone.”
After flashing her one last panty-melting smile, he turned and strolled away. Gazing at his retreating form, Brea bit back a whimper. It seemed a sin to watch that sexy ass, dipped in denim, walk right out the door.
“I think Sawyer likes you,” Jade murmured for only Brea to hear.
“He’ll have to un-like me. No more men. Remember?”
Her protest sounded reasonable, but Brea ached to wrap herself around that hunk like a three-piece-suit from a thrift store.
Sawyer was as dangerous to her man-free diet as a caramel sundae with whipped cream and a cherry on top. She couldn’t cave and sate her sexually needy sweet tooth. One taste of his sugar cone would only leave her wanting more. If Brea had any hope of getting her life in order, she’d have to stay far, far away from that clit-throbbing hottie.
CHAPTER TWO
With his blood pumping lava, his body humming in need, and his heart beating like a sledgehammer—like it had since laying eyes on Brea—Sawyer jogged across the street to the only bar in Haven, the Hangover. He needed a cold beer to put out the fire she’d ignited inside him. His palms itched to slide over every lush inch of her naked curves. Hell, even his cock ached and yearned to squeeze into her hot little body, then soar them both beyond the heavens.
He was baffled by the instant attraction he felt toward the woman. Sawyer had his pick of the women in Haven, but since he’d drunk in the sight of Brea, he didn’t want anyone but her. But why…he didn’t know. She hadn’t been overly friendly or flirtatious. In fact, she seemed almost shy—which was definitely not his style. He liked his women experienced and uninhibited…women who wanted exactly what he did—multiple spine-tingling orgasms without any messy emotions like love.
Yet there was something unique about Brea he couldn’t quite put his finger on or ignore. She’d instantly intrigued him. Though she wasn’t the kind of brave and brazen kitten he was used to playing with, he wanted to discover all the luridly carnal ways he could to make her purr and roar out his name.
As he stepped into the dimly lit bar, a country-western song blared from the jukebox and assaulted his ears. He’d rather hear the eighties rock and roll his mom had listened to as he was growing up. She often claimed that Def Leppard, Aerosmith, and other great bands from that era kept her sane raising six rambunctious boys. It was probably true. The woman had managed to keep her cool in a daily avalanche of fistfights, foul language, and chaos he and his brothers had regularly instigated. As an adult, he admired her even more for not killing one or two of her sons.
Jerking a nod to his younger siblings—twenty-five-year-old twins, Noble and Nate—playing pool toward the back of the room, Sawyer strolled to the bar. Another younger brother, Nash, sat nursing a beer. Clapping him on the back, Sawyer sat down beside him.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” Nash shrugged with a sullen expression. “Just hanging out.”
“Where’s Megan?”
It was a rare sight to find Nate alone. Usually he and his grade-school sweetheart were joined at the hip, or the lips.
“Washing her hair.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes.
Uh-oh. There was trouble in paradise. “What are you two fighting about?”
“Same shit…different day.” Nash let out a heavy sigh. “She wants to pin down a wedding date.”
“Then do it.”
“I’m not ready yet.”
“What are you waiting for? A better offer?”
“Maybe.”
“Pull your head out of your ass, man. Do you honestly think another woman is going to put up with you the way Megan does?”
“No,” Nash mumbled.
“Then why are you dragging your feet?”
“I want to marry her…it’s just…marriage is a huge step. We’re still young. A lot can happen between twenty-three and eighty-three.”
“Yeah, it’s called life.”
“That’s not what I mean. What if we wake up one morning and decide we want to be with someone else? Sara did.”
Knives of regret
stabbed Sawyer. He’d strived to set a good example and be a decent role model for his younger brothers but failed miserably. Swallowing the bitterness tainting his tongue, he shrugged. “I’m living proof there’s no guarantee of happily ever after. Sometimes all you can do is roll the dice.”
“I hate gambling.”
“Do you really love her?”
Nash growled and sent him a glare. “How can you even ask that? You know I do.”
“Then stop sitting here like a whiny little bitch, sulking in your beer, and call her.”
His brother’s shoulders slumped. “I already tried. She won’t answer.”
“So you’re just going to give up? Sit here with your dick in your hands? Get off your ass, go to her house, and apologize to her.”
The man sent him an indignant stare. “For what? I didn’t do anything!”
Gina—the late thirties owner and bartender with pale blue eyes, strawberry-blonde hair, and the mouth of a seasoned sailor—handed Sawyer a mug of beer. He nodded a silent thanks, took a gulp, then said to his hardheaded brother, “You’re right. Don’t set a date. You’re not ready to make a commitment yet.”
“What do you mean I’m not ready? I am, too!” Nash lifted his chin and squared his shoulders, ready to fight.
“No you’re not. If you can’t swallow your pride and apologize just because she needs to hear it, you’re definitely not ready. Marriage isn’t about who’s right and who’s wrong. It’s about making compromises.”
Sawyer’s words of wisdom weren’t born from watching Dr. Phil or listening to shrinks dishing out advice on talk radio; they came from six long years struggling to make his own marriage work. Unfortunately, that was a losing battle. Sara, his ex, didn’t have an apologetic bone in her centerfold-model body. The woman was self-centered, uncompromising, and right…even when she was wrong. Sawyer had spent six long years making concessions without the woman giving an ounce of reciprocation.
After flying to Dallas for her third plastic surgery—a breast augmentation after a rhinoplasty and tummy tuck—Sara confessed that she’d been having an affair with her plastic surgeon. Sawyer had been almost relieved at the news. Though Sara had grown up in Haven, she hated small-town life. She coveted diamonds, jewels, and designer underwear—thongs studded with diamonds if he could have afforded them—not barn dances, chili cook-offs, and shit-kicking piddly parades. And most definitely not the plain gold wedding band he’d placed on her finger.
After that debacle ended, Sawyer had vowed the words I do would never roll off his tongue. Of course, he had no qualms saying I’ll do you all night long to the single women of Haven.
Out of the blue, Brea’s face surfaced in his brain. Glancing toward the door, Sawyer longed to sprint across the street. He wanted to take the dark-haired vixen home with him and do her every which way but Sunday.
“I can too apologize,” Nash challenged.
Sawyer blinked and focused once more on his brother.
“I apologize to Mom all the time for her having given birth to you!”
“Aren’t you a fucking comedian?” Sawyer smacked his brother on the back of the head. “Stop busting my balls, and go make things right with your woman.”
Grumbling, Nash stood and tossed a five on the bar. “If she kicks my ass, I’m coming back to beat the fuck out of you. Got it?”
Sawyer grinned and nodded as his brother walked toward the door. Neither he nor any other man in his family would ever think of raising a hand to a woman. If Megan decided to take a frying pan to Nash’s head, Sawyer would accept the payback.
Grabbing his beer, he traced his brother’s steps. He paused and peered out the window as Nash drove away. Turning his attention toward Toot’s and, most importantly, Colton’s truck, Sawyer clenched his jaw. What the hell had crawled up his ass? He never chased after women like a slobbering Saint Bernard. He didn’t have to. They willingly came to him. What the fuck possessed him to think about pursuing her? Well, besides the need to drown in her luscious body? Still, he lingered at the window hoping to catch one more glimpse of the sultry sprite.
Noble pressed in against Sawyer’s back, startling him. His brother peered over his shoulder. “Whatcha lookin’ at out there?”
“Nothing. Just watched Nash head out to Megan’s with his tail between his legs.”
“How’d he fuck up this time?”
“He ran.”
“Ran from what?”
“Commitment.”
Noble, the older twin—by a whopping minute and a half—clinked his mug with Sawyer’s and winked. “I’ll drink to that.”
The man was a confirmed bachelor. Not so much a man-whore, but bold, cocksure, and full of himself. Sawyer doubted there was a woman on the planet who could entice Noble to make a hint of commitment. On the other hand, Nate was the polar opposite—quiet, shy, and resolved to remain a virgin until his wedding night.
“I knew you would.” Glancing toward the back of the bar, Sawyer arched a brow. “How many times have you whupped Nate’s ass?”
“Six,” Noble preened. “How about you? Want to try and redeem your miserable luck?”
“Not playing pool with you. I like keeping my money. You’re a fucking shark.”
“Pussy.” Noble grinned.
Movement across the street caught Sawyer’s attention. He watched as the trio walked toward Colton’s truck. At the sight of Brea, Sawyer’s heart rate picked up a couple notches. She was smiling at Jade. Brea damn near looked like a goddess. And Sawyer realized he was already obsessed with the girl. The only way to purge her from his system was to forget her or fuck her. Sawyer hoped it would be the latter of the two.
“What are you gawking at now?” Shoving in alongside Sawyer, Noble nearly pressed his nose to the glass. “Oh, you’re either a brave son of a bitch or the stupidest fuck-face to walk the planet. If Colton catches you eyeing his woman, you’ll end up in a body bag.”
“I’m not lusting after Jade, you fuck-nut.”
“Oh, momma. “Who’s that juicy cut of prime beef with them? She’s pretty.” Noble let out a long, low wolf-whistle. “Oh, yeah. Come to Daddy, sweet thing!” His brother’s voice held a predatory edge. Sawyer wanted to beat the man bloody. “Hey, do you think she, Jade, and Colton are doing some kind of kinky threesome shit?”
“No! She’s a friend of theirs, you pervert.”
“Yeah, but are you sure she’s not with them? ’Cause that shit would be hot as fuck to watch.”
“Do your Internet porn sites know you’re cheating on them?” Sawyer smirked.
“Fuck you. Those sites are the bomb.”
“I can’t believe we came from the same mother. But then, you spent every second of your formative years jacking off to Dad’s Playboys. I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Using a wall of smoke and mirrors, Sawyer tried to hide his own kinky penchants by focusing on his brother’s instead.
Noble simply laughed. “Don’t pull that innocent choir boy crap with me. You’re as twisted as the rest of us, and you damn well know it. You made me repeat every detail of the action I used to get with the Lauderbach sisters.” A wistful expression crawled across his brother’s face. “Damn, I wish they hadn’t moved away.”
“Are we playing pool, or are you two gonna stand up there comparing dicks all night?” Nate yelled from the back of the bar.
Noble leaned in and, with a conspiratorial whisper, said, “He gets testy when he loses.” He started walking toward his ill-tempered twin. “If yours wasn’t so fucking small that you needed a pair of tweezers and a magnifying glass to take a piss, you could join us, too. But since you don’t measure up with the big boys—”
“Go fuck yourself,” Nate groused. “My dick’s bigger than both of yours combined.”
“And you give it one hell of a workout…alone in the shower, don’t you, bro?”
Noble’s jab at Nate’s vow of celibacy turned his chaste brother’s face a deep shade of red.
“Ki
ss my ass,” Nate snarled.
Sawyer rolled his eyes at their banter, then glanced out the window. Hope evaporated and disappointment sluiced through his veins as the taillights of Colton’s truck faded into the night. Sawyer scowled. He didn’t know how, after barely meeting the girl, Brea had maneuvered herself under his skin. He felt the need to race home and scrub the prickly sensation from his flesh, after he hauled ass to Colton’s and dragged Brea beneath him for the night. Unfortunately, the lurid images clawing in his head would be put to rest, later, with his own fist. Unless…a willing playmate or two popped into the bar before the night was through. Tipping back his beer, Sawyer drained the mug. The thought of taking anyone home but Brea soured his stomach. He didn’t want another woman…he wanted her.
The revelation shook him to his toes and nearly cracked the foundation beneath him. A burst of panic slammed his system. Sucking in several slow, ragged breaths, he wiped the sweat that had formed from his brow. He was a billion and one ways twisted over the girl, but this wasn’t the time or the place to lose his shit. He didn’t want his brothers getting the slightest whiff that he was interested in Brea or there’d be no stopping the ball busting they’d give him.
With a bitter sigh, he started toward the bar. Watching the twins battle it out on the pool table would give him something to focus on besides Brea.
“You boys keep your big, bad dicks in your pants, or I’ll toss you out for indecent exposure,” Gina warned from behind the bar.
“That’s not what you told me last night, darlin’,” Noble teased with a crooked grin.
“You’re right. Last night I told you to go out with Amanda.”
“Amanda? Who the hell is Amanda?” he asked clearly confused.
“A-man-da-hand relationship, dumb ass!” Gina countered with a grin.
Sawyer and Nate laughed at her raunchy comeback. There wasn’t another woman in Haven who could cut a man down, or lift his spirits, using just her words; Noble grinned and blew her a kiss just as the front door burst open.
