by Brenna Zinn
“I promise you though,” he continued, “I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of after the place closes. I’ll find another job for you. One you’ll love. I’ll pay you three times what Lyle is paying you now. And you’ll never have to worry about money again. Trust me. What I’m telling you is the truth.”
His honesty and his offer were the last things on her mind. Standing in the forefront was her pride, and not far behind, her self-worth. She’d given up her lifelong dream to be a professional dancer and had taken on the chance at turning around a run-down club. She would be successful even if it killed her.
Failure is not an option.
Chapter Seven
Well, this can’t be good.
Bennett shook his head and heaved a sigh at the sight of Tatum’s round ass sticking out from under the open hood of her truck in the Iron Rods parking lot. After a long day in the club suffering through private lessons so they could quickly get up to speed on Texas Alcohol Beverage Commission requirements and the basics of bartending, seeing the leggy blonde up to her elbows in a grease-covered engine could only mean one thing—more suffering.
For almost ten hours his cock had battled his mind while he sat near her at the bar and pretended to pay attention to an overpriced facilitator. Each time the air conditioner kicked on, her perfume blew his way, enveloping him in her distinctive scent of sunshine mingled with vanilla. The aroma made his mouth water, especially as his mind drifted to thoughts of the place she smelled and tasted the best. When they occasionally drew close to inspect information the instructor provided, Bennett’s skin warmed until his already overheated body practically melted beneath his trousers and starched button-down. This, unfortunately, only added to his misery.
His situation should be simple. She wasn’t his type and couldn’t be more wrong for him on personal and professional levels. And, based on the daggers he’d seen in her perpetual glare, her curt responses to any of his questions and the cold shoulder she presented whenever he was around, he’d managed to piss her off royally over a week ago when he talked openly about his plans for Iron Rods.
So much for being honest with a woman. If I had wanted to be ignored, I would hang out with Lyle.
Yet despite the passing of time, as well as knowing why Tatum was not in his best interest, his body demanded the opportunity to touch her again. He desperately wanted to fill his hands with her breasts, part the wet folds of her cunt to taste her honeyed nectar and drive his hard penis into her until his aching balls slapped the underside of her welcoming slit.
All day, desire had fought tooth and nail with reason, leaving him mentally and physically frazzled. Relief in the form of masturbation, followed by a long cold shower and then a relaxing glass of well-aged whisky, would have to wait while he stuck around and helped her get the beater she called a truck started.
Why had he let lust rule supreme last week when the Iron Rods staff had left after their meeting? He should have known better. If he’d hoped to satisfy carnal needs and rid himself of temptation, the plan had horribly backfired. Since the moment he’d assisted her out of her clothes in the manager’s office, he’d wanted more. His mind, which usually focused on business, now fixated on Tatum. Regardless of the time of day, she was there, front and center in his thoughts. He couldn’t go on this way.
Bennett reluctantly strode to her vehicle and rolled up his sleeves. “What seems to be the problem?”
Not that her answer mattered. The most he knew about fixing cars started and stopped at pressing the button for OnStar emergency service.
“It’s not your concern, Slick,” she mumbled, not bothering to look at him. “I can take care of this myself.”
Bennett scrunched up his face and took a breath, trying to keep his building frustration in check. When was she going to give Operation Deep Freeze a rest?
“I assume it won’t start?”
With considerable force, Tatum smacked both hands flat against the side of the truck and slowly lifted her head from the jumble of metal parts and hoses beneath the hood. A scowl pinched the skin between her brows and her lips formed a perfect flat line.
Though she had been outside only long enough for him to shut down the air conditioner in the club, set the alarm and turn off all the lights, her efforts to start the truck and the Texas heat and humidity had already taken their toll. A light sheen of perspiration glistened on her face and neck. Several golden strands had escaped from her ponytail.
With the back of her hand, Tatum brushed back a stray lock, leaving a streak of something black on her forehead. Instead of looking ridiculous, her disheveled appearance only made her look more adorable. Damn the woman!
“I think it’s my carburetor.”
“You know how to fix vehicles?”
He hadn’t intended to sound accusatory when he asked the question, but the deepening of her fierce expression suggested she’d taken it that way. She pushed herself from the truck, wiped her palms on her jeans and then planted her fists on her hips.
“My daddy made sure I knew how to do basic repairs,” she said as a bead of sweat rolled into the narrow valley of cleavage at the top of her T-shirt. “Growing up in West Texas, where you can find yourself a hundred miles from the nearest service station, it’s pretty damn important to know a thing or two about engines. Got a problem with that?”
Her Southern twang blasted full-force. The only things she needed to be more Texan were a piece of straw between her teeth and a horse trailer behind her truck.
“No. Not a bit.”
In fact, her self-sufficiency only added to her attractiveness.
Jesus. What’s happened to me? When did women grease monkeys become a turn-on? I’m becoming more like my father every day.
The realization sent a cold shiver down his back.
“So what makes you think it’s the carburetor?” Bennett leaned over the massive engine. How could anyone make heads or tails of the confusing mess?
Tatum crossed her arms over her chest. “The engine won’t turn over, but there’s power going to the battery. Plus this old girl has been spewing black smoke and engine has been missing for a while.”
Saving himself from what would probably end up being extreme embarrassment, he refused to ask how her engine could possibly be missing. The internal workings of the truck were right there.
If only Lyle had taken the time to show him how to fix things like cars, he wouldn’t have to put on that he knew more than he actually did. Being less than competent in any subject grated his nerves.
He caught himself reaching for the Susan B. in his pocket. Instead, he rubbed his chin, hoping he looked and sounded at least somewhat knowledgeable.
“Hmmmm. You might be right. It does sound like the carburetor.”
Why did he feel the need to impress this woman? That he even cared what she thought of him caused his palm to itch for the coin.
“Unfortunately,” he added, “we have a problem. I’d like to fix this for you, but I don’t have the right tools with me to make the repairs before the sun goes down. It’ll be dark before I can even get the carburetor out to look at.”
“You don’t say.”
Bennett glanced up from something large and metallic in the engine to take in Tatum’s expression. One corner of her lips had pulled tightly into her cheek. An eyebrow was perched high over a green eye filled with skepticism. If he was a guessing man, he’d guess she wasn’t buying his act.
“Why don’t I take you home and you can call someone to tow it off to a shop tomorrow?” he suggested, stepping from the truck. “It should be safe here tonight.”
Much safer than you’ll probably be with me if I can’t learn to control myself around you.
Tatum’s gaze shifted between him, her dead vehicle and then back. She blew out a puff of air, disturbing the stands of hair that refused to stay out of her face.
“I’m too tired and hot to deal with this right now. Go ahead and take me home.”
She s
ounded unhappy but resigned to her fate, though he couldn’t be sure which situation, leaving the truck overnight in the Iron Rods parking lot or having to be around him, troubled her more.
When she finished cleaning her hands, they got into his car and headed north on South Congress. The atmosphere inside the sports car practically crackled with tension. Tatum kept her head turned toward the passenger window, occasionally releasing a heavy sigh. Neither of them bothered to speak. Then again, what was the point when they had so little in common?
As they crossed Milton Street, the road sloped down a steep hill toward downtown. Tatum angled herself near the front windshield.
“I’ve been on this road at least a thousand times,” she said, a dreamlike quality softening her voice. “I still catch my breath when I see this view. Austin has to be one of the most beautiful cities in the world.”
Bennett blinked. In that moment, the surroundings came in to focus. Although he’d been staring down South Congress Avenue, he hadn’t really paid attention to what he was seeing.
In the distance, the straight lines of the long avenue dead-ended at the Capitol building. The grand home of the Texas legislature, the Capitol and its domed peak dominated the view. Tall buildings and trees lined the wide street as though they were sentinels, silently keeping watch over all who passed their way.
Many years ago when he rode alongside Lyle in the front of the old man’s pickup to and from the club, Bennett had felt the same awe of seeing downtown and the Capitol building. Even then, long before the skyscrapers changed the city skyline, the view down South Congress had been a sight to behold. Funny how the changed landscape no longer stirred his soul. Funny too how he had taken the impressive panorama completely for granted until Tatum pointed it out.
As though touched by unseen magic, the streetlights and the strings of lights entwined in the trees that bordered the avenue came to life with light. A childlike joy swept through him. He glanced at Tatum, whose stretched smile matched his own.
“Want to watch the bats?” The thought popped into his mind and flew from his lips before he realized he’d spoken it aloud.
“You want to watch the bats fly out from under the Congress Bridge?”
She placed emphasis on the word you as though the possibility of his wanting to watch the nightly curiosity was beyond belief.
“Yes, I do. But I’ll understand if you want me to take you home. I know you’re hot and tired.”
He was teasing her again, something he rarely did with anyone else. But he couldn’t help himself. Doing so felt so right.
“I think I can make it a few more minutes before I drop from exhaustion.” She pointed an animated finger to an available parking spot on the side of the road. “Quick. Stop over there. We need to hurry or we’ll miss the show.”
Moments later, they arrived panting and grinning near the fringe of people gathered on the wide sidewalk spanning the Colorado River. For several minutes, thick black ribbons of bats rose into the twilight sky, twisting and turning, from under the concrete bridge. People held out their cameras and cell phones, forever capturing the event through pictures and video until the last of the strange webbed creatures disappeared into the night.
He may have seen the bats on their nightly flight dozens of times since he was old enough to stand, but tonight, with Tatum at his side, it was as though he were watching the spectacle for the first time. She somehow managed to remind him of the wonders of the city and take him back to a time in his life when he had genuinely enjoyed living here. The woman who lacked social polish and upbringing was bringing light to a side of him he’d long ago let go dark. If only he could spend more time with her, away from business, where they could continue to let down their guard. Maybe then they could learn to like each other better.
They walked side by side back toward his car when a notion struck.
“I don’t suppose you’d be up for dessert?”
She stopped in her tracks and stared up at him. “Just who are you and what have you done with Bennett Truitt?”
“Do you truly want to know?” he laughed.
Tatum tilted her chin, looking deep in thought. “No. I don’t think so. I like you much better. You’re not the soul-sucking jerk that he is.”
“Ouch.” Bennett placed a hand over his heart and staggered back. “I’m not that bad, surely.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and thrust out a hip, accentuating her position on the matter.
“That bad?”
“Oh ya.”
He scoured his mind, thinking through the times they’d been together. Although he hadn’t exactly been on his best behavior in her company and he told her the truth about moving forward with tearing down Iron Rods, he hadn’t acted like a jerk.
“You peed in my Cheerios after we had sex,” she huffed before he could respond.
“I what?”
“After a great run around the rodeo ring in the manager’s office, you had to open your mouth and insert your big fat hoof. I shouldn’t tell you this, but I’m gonna anyway. You really hurt my feelings that night.”
She turned on the heel of her boot and started walking.
“Hold on.” Bennett caught her by the shoulder and whirled her around. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how instead of whispering sweet nothings in my ear after our hook-up, you started going on and on about how I would fail as a manager and the inevitable death of Iron Rods. That’s what.”
He thought back. He remembered saying something about her being terrific. And then their conversation had drifted to business.
Actually, now that he thought about it, Tatum hadn’t said much after they lay on the desk. It was his conversation that had drifted to business, not their conversation.
Damn. She was right. Their one and only time as sexual partners, and he’d droned on about Iron Rods rather than cooing to her like a normal person would.
The tips of his ears burned and the pain in the center of his chest hurt worse than if she had just drop kicked him.
Man oh man. He’d been more than just a jerk that night, he’d been a complete ass. That hadn’t been his intention, but none of his intentions seemed to play out well lately. Not since she stumbled into his life.
But he hadn’t said she would fail as a manager. Had he?
Tears welled in the corners of her eyes. When a wet bead slid down her cheek, she angrily swept it away with the back of her hand.
Seeing her so upset was more than he could bear.
“I’m sorry. I truly am.” He ran his fingers through his hair, racking his brain for some way to make things right. “You have every reason to be mad at me.”
Tatum continued to look thoroughly miserable. He’d have to do better than just a spoken apology.
Inspiration struck. He needed a diversion.
He cupped her cheek and wiped away a tear with his thumb while he slipped his other hand into his pocket and pushed a handkerchief up his shirtsleeve. Once finished setting up his trick, he waved his empty hand before her.
“Here,” he said, reaching behind her ear. “Use this.”
With great flare, Bennett whipped out the square of fabric, hoping it appeared as though he’d found it lurking near her earlobe. He offered her the kerchief. “I’m sorry, Tatum. Please don’t cry.”
Her watery eyes brightened slightly and she smiled as she grabbed the hanky. “How did you do that?”
“I am a man of mystery. A man of many talents.”
“I already knew that. But I didn’t know you knew magic.”
Bennett shrugged. “I learned a few tricks when I was a kid.”
“Including walking a coin over your fingers?”
She glanced his way when he failed to respond. Acknowledging the Susan B. brought feelings of vulnerability to the surface that he’d rather stay deeply tucked away.
“I’ve seen you playing with it a few times,” she continued. “It’s a great trick. I’d lov
e to learn how to do that sometime.”
“Maybe someday.” He returned the handkerchief to his pocket, then turned as though listening to a sound. “Do you hear that?”
“No. What is it?”
“I think I hear dessert calling.” Latching on to her hand, he pulled until she fell into step with him.
After making another stop at a food trailer for two large chocolate cupcakes which they ate sitting on a painted wood picnic table, they finally arrived at her townhouse. Bennett killed the engine and shifted in the bucket seat. Once again, his head and body sparred for control.
He’d be a fool to walk Tatum inside and take a stab at the chance to bed her again. There was no future for them. They both had to know that. Making matters more complicated, this was her home. If he did sleep with her, what would come next? Most likely there would be an awkward scene where he thanked her for the marvelous fuck and left out any discussion about business. Then he would grab his clothes and make a quick exit.
He couldn’t possibly stay the night. Doing so would suggest there was more to their relationship than he wanted her to believe. Definitely more than he was ready for. Yes, she was incredibly sexy and strangely entertaining. And yes, he felt so much at ease with her that he’d found himself dreaming up excuses to be around her. But a line had to be drawn somewhere. He wasn’t the kind of man who involved himself in relationships. Relationships eventually led to deep feelings. Deep feelings, he’d discovered the hard way, led to heartache.
Hadn’t he already had enough heartache to last a lifetime?
“Want to come in for a drink?” she asked. “I don’t have any Scotch, but I have cold beer.”
Tatum had to know inviting him into her home meant more than just providing him a cool beverage. Before they finished their first drink, he would have her shirt off and her jeans unsnapped. After that, he wouldn’t stop until she lay spread-eagle on her bed, his mouth attached to the little nub of her clit where he would let his tongue flick until she shouted his name from pleasure.
