Brandy’s sister really had hit the jackpot.
Brandy’s throat tightened. She swallowed and tried to focus on her older sister’s voice.
“… have to slow down and take a breath,” Callie was saying.
“I’ll do that when I’m turning a substantial profit and business is booming.”
If that moment ever came.
She tamped down the doubt and gave herself a mental shake. Sure, she had debt. But she had a plan to get out of that debt, which was why she was parked in front of Kenny Roy’s house yet again, waiting for the man to come home so that she could find out the name of his connection.
She stared at the lifeless house, the crickets buzzing around her as she sat in the front seat of Bertha, a bag of fries on the seat next to her and a chocolate shake in the drink holder. So much for an exciting Saturday night.
Not that she hadn’t thought about swinging by Tyler’s before heading out to Kenny Roy’s. She had. So much so that she’d nearly burned an entire batch of cupcakes, which was why she’d decided to ignore her screaming hormones and take care of business first.
“Did you even eat dinner—” Callie started.
“Did you find a photographer for the wedding?” Brandy blurted, effectively switching the subject from her workaholic life to the big event.
“There’s a guy here at the paper who’s really good. Mike Wheeler. He’s from a little town east of here, but he’s been at the paper for three years now. Weddings aren’t exactly his thing, but I think he’d be perfect. His pictures capture so much character. I think if I can come up with a good bribe, he might do it for me. Which brings me to the real reason for my call.”
“You mean you didn’t call just to harass me about working too much?”
“Not completely. I mean, that’s part of it. You need to take more time off. Have some downtime. Maybe go out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Maybe share that dinner with a certain photographer who went into your bakery the other day and is now convinced you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.”
“Wait a second. I’m your bribe for the photographer?”
“If you agree to dinner. If not, then I’m stuck looking for someone to capture the most important day of my life.”
“You’re not going to guilt me into this. I don’t do blind dates.”
“You don’t do any dates, and I’m not trying to guilt you into anything. I’m seriously worried about you and your lack of downtime.”
Brandy thought of the past night with Tyler and fought down a wave of guilt. “No, you’re not.”
“Okay, so I understand your dedication, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to have a little fun every now and then. Mike’s really cute,” she added. “And you’d be doing me a huge favor.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Well, don’t think too long. I need to lock down the date on his schedule.”
“I’ll get back to you next week.”
“How about tomorrow?” When Brandy sighed, Callie added, “It’s just that the wedding happens to coincide with the annual Cotton Eyed Joe dance festival at the VFW Hall. Mike will have to find someone to cover for him at the festival if he commits to the wedding, but he won’t commit until I can promise him a date and—”
“Okay.”
“Okay you’ll get back to me tomorrow or okay you’ll do it?”
“I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, I guess if you really need time to think about whether or not you want to help make the wedding as wonderful as it could possibly be and ease my stress level considerably, then I’m sure you have your reasons—”
“I’ll do it. I’ll go on the date. Just not right now because I’m really busy.”
“Yeah, sure. I would never dump a date on you just like that. You need notice. So how about next week?”
“Make it next month and you’ve got a deal.”
“Great. Thank you. You won’t regret it. I know it sounds like I’m just doing this for the wedding, but I really think you two will hit it off. I’ll set it up and text the details. Gotta run. Brett’s waiting for me. We’re having dinner with his pappy. Now make sure you don’t work too late.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“And eat something that isn’t loaded with sugar.”
“Bye, Mom.” She hit the OFF button and set the phone on the seat next to her.
A blind date.
What was Callie thinking?
That maybe there’s more to life than work. A first for her because her entire life had been about work. But not by choice. That was the difference between them. Callie had spent years working because she’d had to step up and take charge of the family when their parents had died. She’d had to step up and be the mom.
But in all honesty, she was as far from Mary Elizabeth Tucker as a woman could get. Their mother had been a stay-at-home mom, content to move in with her father-in-law so that her family could scrape by on the meager income that her husband managed to bring home. She’d never had aspirations beyond her three daughters, beyond putting food on the table and shoes on everyone’s feet.
Or so she’d claimed.
But on those rare occasions when she’d herded Brandy into the kitchen to make brownies or cookies to earn a little side cash, she’d been a different person.
Brandy could still remember her mother talking about her childhood as she rolled out a piecrust or whipped up a chocolate ganache. About how she’d wanted so desperately to be the next Betty Crocker. Childish dreams, she’d said, but Brandy hadn’t missed the light in the woman’s eyes. The longing.
As if Mary Elizabeth wasn’t quite as happy as she professed to be. As if she’d missed out.
Made the wrong decision.
While Brandy knew her mother would never have traded her husband and three daughters for a career, she’d known that the woman had still wondered what life might have been like if she’d followed through with her passion. If she hadn’t met and married so young and started having babies right out of the gate.
If she hadn’t traded her love of baking for that of a good man.
Brandy wouldn’t make the same mistake. She intended to find out just how far she could go before she settled down. If she settled down. She didn’t want to have unanswered questions years from now. Or regret.
She wanted to make herself happy now before she felt obliged to make someone else happy.
An image stirred and she saw Tyler McCall wearing nothing but hard, ripped muscles and a sizable erection. She remembered the heat in his eyes and the wicked slant to his mouth and the pleasure gleaming in his eyes.
She shifted on the seat and reached for the chocolate shake in the cup holder. She usually steered clear of sweets when she was off duty. She did enough tasting during the day to keep an extra five pounds on each hip. She wasn’t about to indulge after hours and make that ten.
But for some reason, she hadn’t been able to help herself tonight. Her stomach grumbled and a craving ate away inside of her.
Because of him.
Because last night hadn’t been nearly enough after two long years on the wagon. It wasn’t as if she could go around boffing every guy in town. And risk one of them getting hooked on her? Or worse, her getting hooked on him? Someone she would have to see day in, day out. That would just complicate things and distract her from what was really important.
No, that’s why she kept things going with Tyler. She didn’t have to worry about him hanging around, distracting her, tempting her. He was here today, gone tomorrow, and that made him the perfect sex buddy.
Sex, and nothing but sex.
She stuffed her straw into her thick drink. A few sips and she gave up the effort and pulled off the lid. Dipping the straw into the dense chocolate, she scooped a mouthful and closed her eyes as the cold, creamy concoction hit her tongue.
Rich. Sweet. Ahhh …
A groan slid past her lips and she went back for another scoop.
/>
“Got a bite for me?” The deep, masculine voice sent a bolt of shock through her. Her head snapped up and just like that, she found herself staring into Mr. Sex Buddy’s familiar aqua-blue eyes.
CHAPTER 10
“I, um…” Brandy scrambled for her voice. Her hand trembled and the shake sloshed. A glob of chocolate dove over the side and slid down the cup, covering her fingers in sticky goodness. “You scared the daylights out of me.” She reached for a napkin and tried to calm the sudden jolt of her heart.
What the hell was wrong with her? She’d slept with the man, for Pete’s sake, yet here she was acting like a nervous schoolgirl because he was talking to her.
But then that was the point entirely.
They didn’t talk. They didn’t socialize. There was no going to the movies or kicking up dust at the local saloon. No running into each other and gabbing like old friends. No picnics or lunches at the Dairy Freeze.
They hooked up and while they might exchange a few choice words in the heat of the moment, it was all about the sex.
This … This was different.
This was out in the open for the world to see.
He frowned. “I thought I told you to stay away from here.”
“And I thought I told you it was none of your business.” She sat the shake in the cup holder and wiped at her messy hands. “I need to see Kenny and I’m not leaving until I do.”
“Kenny’s a bad guy.”
“If he’s such a bad guy, then what do you want with him?”
The frown deepened. “Maybe I just came back because I remembered how stubborn you were and I wanted to make sure you didn’t get into trouble.”
“That would imply that you care, and we both know there’s no truth to that.” She gave him a pointed stare. “I can look after myself.”
He stared at her long and hard as if there was something he wanted to say, but then he shrugged. “My brother’s been hanging out with him lately and I’m here to put a stop to it.”
“Because Kenny’s such a bad guy.”
“Exactly.” He reached for the door handle.
Before she could hit the LOCK button, the door swung wide and his deep voice slid into her ears. “Scoot.”
“What are you doing?” she blurted as he started to climb into the driver’s seat.
“We might as well wait together.” His muscular thigh hit hers and she found herself sliding to the side a split second before his entire body folded in next to hers.
Vinyl groaned and creaked as he settled behind the steering wheel. The door slammed shut and suddenly old Bertha seemed much smaller than she’d realized. A hand span of worn seat separated them. The potent scent of sexy male drifted across the space to her and wound tight, pushing and pulling at her already tentative control. The urge to wiggle to her left and snuggle up next to him nearly overwhelmed her.
She pushed aside the crazy notion and finished wiping her sticky hands. “I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
He shot her a sideways glance. One dark brow arched. “Don’t trust yourself?”
Bingo.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She cleared her throat. “I need to get some work done, that’s all.” She indicated the clipboard and supply list. “I’ve got to order staples tomorrow and I need to figure out exactly how much I need.”
“So work.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind.” He was all hard muscle and purposeful intent as he settled back in the seat, one elbow resting on the open window.
Her gaze hooked on his large hand sitting atop the seat between them, his fingers long and strong. The musky scent of leather and horse filled the interior, teasing her senses and making her heart flutter. The air inside the vehicle crackled with electricity.
The chemistry between them fired to life as always, a live wire running from point A to point B, the connection shivering with intensity. She became keenly aware of the chocolate residue coating her fingers and the top of her hand. A thought pushed its way into her head and she saw Tyler’s strong hand covering hers, lifting it to his lips, his tongue lapping at the sweetness clinging to her skin …
Not that he was doing any such thing. Not out in the open for everyone to see.
A wave of heat washed over her and she barely resisted the urge to tug at the neckline of her T-shirt. The heat rolling off his body made the already humid night air unbearable and she found herself reaching for the door handle.
“Where are you going?”
“I really need to wash my hands,” she blurted. “I’ll just turn on the hose right there”—she indicated the faucet near the corner of the house—“and cool off.” The minute the words were out, her gaze collided with his. A knowing smile crooked his lips and she stiffened. “Clean up,” she rushed on. “I need to clean off.”
The door opened and slammed and she walked swiftly to the faucet, doing her best to ignore the strange prickle of awareness that told her he was watching her.
Her hand closed around the knob and she turned. Water spurted from the end of the hose and she busied herself washing off her fingers.
She wasn’t doing anything with him right here, right now. She had more important things on her plate.
Namely, talk to Kenny and get herself home to bed in time to be at the bakery at four a.m. sharp to prep the way she did every day.
Last night had been enough.
She gathered her strength and her composure, turned off the water, and started back toward the car. Thirty seconds later, she climbed into the passenger seat and reached for her clipboard.
“You’re all wet, sugar,” he murmured, drawing her attention.
Her gaze collided with his and she felt the familiar ache between her legs. “You have no idea.”
He grinned then and she had the crazy thought that he knew exactly what she was talking about. But then he reached out and touched her damp sleeve. “Maybe you ought to go home and change.”
“It’s just water. It’ll dry.” She forced her attention to the clipboard. Flipping on the dash light, she focused on counting last week’s sales and predicting the coming week, along with specialty items.
“Do you mind?” He motioned to the radio, and she shrugged.
A click of the knob and Jason Aldean’s “Burnin’ It Down” drifted over the radio.
The music combined with the steady sound of his breathing actually relaxed her and she managed to get a good ten minutes’ worth of work done before her gaze snagged on his profile and she found herself remembering a similar moment when she’d climbed into his pickup truck that very first time.
She didn’t remember the drive to the rodeo arena or the walk through the stock pens to get to the foreman’s office. She just remembered this—his firm chin, the sensual set to his mouth, the slope of his chiseled nose, the shadow of a beard covering his strong jaw.
Everything seemed more defined now, as if the years had added an edge to his features that made him seem older, and much more dangerous.
“I can’t believe Cooper would trade a full ride to A and M for this.” He motioned to the overgrown yard and the sagging front porch. “It’s not like Kenny is making money hand over fist, otherwise he wouldn’t be holed up in such a dump.”
“You really think Cooper is involved with Kenny Roy?”
“That’s what he said. Left our mother a message saying he was doing some work with Kenny Roy and would be gone for a little while. That was three weeks ago. He’s been in touch once or twice since, but he just leaves the same message that he’ll be back soon. But soon should have come a helluva long time ago.”
“Did you call the police?”
He shook his head. “He’s not technically a missing person. He’s okay or he wouldn’t be able to leave messages, but there’s no word about where he is or what he’s involved with. He mentioned that Kenny Roy had hooked him up with some kind of job, so I figured I would start here.” He eyed her. “What about you? Why do you need to see Kenny Roy? You trying to sell h
im some cookies?”
“Very funny.” She shook her head and fixed her gaze back on the clipboard. “I’m not a Girl Scout, but I am here on business. A new business.” She didn’t mean to say any more, but he’d been so forthcoming about his brother that the words slid out before she could stop them. “I think I’ve come up with a new moonshine recipe. One even better than Texas Thunder.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded. “I mixed up a batch of mash and Ellie, the girl I was here with earlier, gave it to her boyfriend who gave it to Kenny Roy who found someone who could run it for me. It turned out really good, which is why I need to talk to Kenny about running another batch. I’ve got my mash fermenting right now. It’s not ready yet, but when it is I need someone to run it and get me a sample for this meeting I have with a distiller out of Austin.”
“Kenny Roy is an idiot. I can’t imagine you would trust him with a batch of muffins, much less a bucket of mash.”
“I know he is, but he has connections. It’s the connection I’m trying to reach. I need to see the mash run myself. To make sure there’s no alteration or contamination going on.”
“No moonshiner is going to be too keen on an audience.”
“Maybe not, but it’s the only way I can be sure. The recipe has to be solid, the finished product pure and perfect and in my hands before next Friday, otherwise I’ll have to wait months for another meeting. That’s time I don’t have.”
“I’m assuming your grandpa didn’t pass down his know-how, otherwise you’d be running it yourself.”
“All he passed on was a world of debt, which we’ve managed to climb out of. At least Callie’s free and clear.”
“But not you?”
“I had to help Callie.” She shrugged. “She spent too many years carrying the burden all by herself. I got a secure loan on my equipment, which I could easily pay back at the time. But then a doughnut shopped opened up around the corner and they’re killing my morning rush. That, and I need to expand. I’ll never get anywhere if I can’t do enough special orders.”
Red-Hot Texas Nights Page 6
