Harlequin Superromance August 2013 - Bundle 1 of 2: What Happens Between FriendsStaying at Joe'sHer Road Home

by Beth Andrews

  “I have a jacket out in the truck. Want it?”

  “Careful. Someone might think you actually care.”

  O-kay. He picked up a sandwich half. “And you? Any regrets?”

  “About staying in Virginia? No. This place has its attractions, but it’s not my idea of a good time.”

  “There’s more to it than indentured servitude and lame-ass jokes, you know.”

  “Uh-huh. Like the fresh country air and the—” she toasted him with her mug “—‘young’ coffee.”

  He glared, but she only laughed. “What are they?” he asked, his voice too gruff for his liking. “The attractions you mentioned.”

  She set her mug back down on the table, hesitated long enough that he started on his lukewarm soup. After a while she looked up, her expression wary.

  “We both know I made the right decision.”

  He waited.

  “I thought about it a lot, you know, and I realized something. You wanted me to turn you down.”

  He rested his spoon against the side of the bowl. “Is that so?”

  “It’s the only reason you asked. You knew I’d say no. Counted on it. You wanted to punish yourself. And moving here was part of the penance. Moving here on your own? Icing on the atonement cake.”

  He settled back against the booth’s cracked vinyl padding. So now she thought she could read minds. He let the anger surge.

  Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward again. When she pulled away he gave serious thought to stopping her, to holding her in place with a hand on hers, to closing the rest of the distance between them. To showing her just how much her know-it-all attitude pissed him off.

  And turned him on.

  Instead he let his gaze wander over her smooth, pale face, down past her don’t-mess-with-me chin and slender throat, to uneasy shoulders and a just-the-right-size pair of breasts he damned well should have worshipped more. The denim at his crotch stretched tight and he shifted. Two seconds ago he’d been angry. Hell if he could remember why.

  “Maybe once you’re done punishing yourself you’ll find your way back to Alexandria,” she said.

  Ah, that was why.

  “For you? Or for Tackett & Pike?”

  She pulled her coffee closer. “For T&P, of course.”

  Of course. “Just so we’re straight, I asked you to move here because I wanted you with me.”

  “What you wanted was for me to beg you to stay. We both know you didn’t want to leave that life behind.”

  “You keep saying that. ‘We both know.’ Who’s we? Got a python in your pocket?” He shoved aside his half-empty dishes. “You realize anything else about me over the past year?”

  “Nothing I can say in public.”

  “Because I’ll blush? Or because you think I want to hide I had a drinking problem?”

  A breathless quiet settled over the diner. Allison stared across the table. A chorus of speculation surrounded them before the usual din settled in again. The hiss of fat on a hot griddle, the clack of plates meeting Formica, the high-pitched ping, ping, ping of the cash register. Rachel sidled over from the next table, her gaze rapt. She hefted the remains of his grilled cheese. “Want me to wrap this up? You could come by and finish it later.”

  You had to give the kid credit for trying. “I’ll take it to go,” he said firmly. Her smile drooped and with a flick of her braid, she swung away.

  The other waitress—Olivia, he thought her name was—swooped in, deposited their cinnamon rolls, flashed a smile and scurried back to the kitchen. Allison didn’t look at him as she picked up her fork.

  “So what makes a cinnamon roll irregular?”

  Nice job with the subject change, slick. “Sometimes Cal shapes them into hearts.”

  “Oh.” She glanced over at Rachel then said it again, stretching the single syllable into a ten-second monologue.

  “Remember Noble Johnson?”

  “The librarian in leather.”

  “Right. He kicked up a fuss about the hearts and threatened to start buying his breakfast at the Dinky Mart. Since Noble orders two rib eye specials every morning, Cal had a change of heart. So to speak.”

  Allison chuckled as she settled her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand, and Joe felt an odd swell of pride. She still knew how to shake off a sulk. He’d forgotten how stimulating it had been, switching from bantering to bickering in the blink of an eye, but always, always with an underlying affection.

  Until.

  “Poor Noble. Got his heart broken, did he?”

  “No. He’s saving himself. Won’t eat a heart-shaped anything until he has someone to share it with.”

  “That’s...sweet.” She drummed her fingers against her cheek. “You haven’t asked if I’m seeing anyone.”

  He stabbed his fork into his cinnamon roll. “I don’t have to.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You never had time for anything but the job.”

  “That’s true,” she mused, surprising him again. He’d expected her to go all defensive on him. Still, it rankled that she sounded more proud than wistful.

  She watched him while he ate, her gaze tracking every bite. Damned if she didn’t remind him of Chance, Nat’s black Lab, forever lurking at the table’s edge, trembling in anticipation for the moment the bearer of the fork dropped something tasty.

  He coughed into his fist. Probably best not to mention he was mentally comparing her to a dog. Then again, outrage had always looked good on her.

  Desire looked even better. Hot, pulsing, throw-me-down-now desire—

  He set down his fork and swallowed hard. Her fingers stopped mid-drum.

  “Can we talk now?” she asked.

  He had something much more...gratifying in mind. But that’s where his fantasy would have to stay. In his mind.

  He nodded toward the untouched plate at her elbow. “Not interested?” Luckily she didn’t seem to notice the strain in his voice.

  “No. It looks delicious, but—” she gave him a once-over so hurried he almost missed it “—I’d regret it later.”

  He could read between the lines. He’d just been pumped up and shot down in a matter of seconds. He nudged his plate aside. “Life is too short to cut yourself off. Relax. Indulge. Enjoy.”

  Judas Priest, he sounded like an ad for flavored coffee creamer.

  “Back to the subject at hand,” she said firmly. “Our arrangement did not include hundred-pound Burmese pythons.”

  “It didn’t include loaning out my favorite pair of coveralls, either, but look at me, I’ve adapted.”

  “You can’t hold me to the deal.”

  “The deal stands.”

  “Ever heard of extenuating circumstances? And by the way, those circumstances could have strangled us in our sleep, thank you very much.”

  “Strangled you in your sleep. My bed’s all the way at the other end of the motel. Anyway, the snake’s gone.” She opened her mouth but he didn’t give her a chance to speak. “You agreed to stay at the motel a full two weeks. ‘No complaints, no backtracking, no games.’ That was the deal. If you recall.”

  “I’ve been looking for you.” A cheerful, twenty-something blonde with long, curly hair appeared beside the booth. She aimed a curious glance at Allison. “Both of you.”

  Joe shifted to make room. “Got time to sit?”

  “Not really. After I do some stuff for Snoozy I have to get right back to the bar.”

  “Stay for just a minute. I’ll introduce you.” She crowded in beside him. “Allison, meet Liz Early. Snoozy thinks she works for him but we all know who’s really in charge. Liz, this is Allison Kincaid, a former coworker from Virginia.”

  “And snake savior, according to my boss. Snoozy’s ha
lf in love already.” Liz thrust her hand across the table. “Nice to meet you, Allison.”

  Allison smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m happy your boss has his pet back, but I have to say I wish someone else had found her.”

  Liz shuddered. “Totally. I made him promise to give me a decent raise if she ever gets loose. At least now I know he’ll do everything he can to make sure she stays put.”

  Joe grinned at Allison. “Told you she was the brains of the outfit.”

  “Anyway, the reason I’m here—” Her gaze snagged on Allison’s untouched cinnamon roll. She froze, and her eyes went wide. “Look at that,” she said, her voice hushed.

  Joe winked at Allison. “I don’t think loud noises will scare it away.”

  “Shh.” Liz shoved a palm in his face, her gaze never wavering from the plate. “Give me a moment to revel in its glory.” After a few seconds she licked her lips and looked over at Allison. “I planned to score one of these while I was here, but Cal said he was out. Is that...I don’t suppose...”

  “Help yourself.” After a token protest, Liz accepted a fork. She ate quickly, and when she’d swallowed the last bite she leaned back in smiling bliss. Joe gave her a few seconds then tugged lightly on her hair.

  “You were about to tell us the reason you’re here.”

  “Hmm? Oh!” She snapped upright. “Jeez, I have to get back to work. But first I need to invite you to the bar tonight. Snoozy’s throwing a welcome home party for Mitzi and he’d like you both to be there.” She licked the back of the fork, slid out of the booth and beamed down at Allison. “Especially you.”

  “Instead of celebrating that snake he should be eating it.”

  Joe winced. Even if he didn’t recognize the girlish pitch, the comment alone was enough to give her away. He twisted in his seat and nodded a greeting, grateful that Liz was in his way, preventing him from standing. Because if he moved any closer he’d be well within striking distance, and he was in no mood for another Attack of the Giant Purse.

  “How you doing, Aud?”

  But Liz didn’t give Audrey a chance to answer him. “Audrey Tweedy, that’s a horrible thing to say! How would you feel if someone suggested Hazel and June barbecue Baby Blue?”

  “Now, dear, that’s a very different thing. Even for a schnauzer, Baby Blue is scrawny. He’d barely qualify as an appetizer for a family of four. But that python? She could feed all of Castle Creek.”

  “You know as well as I do that Snoozy would never let that happen.”

  “Let me know if he changes his mind. You’d be surprised how delicious snake can be. I have a fabulous recipe for a soy sauce marinade with ginger and honey. Oh, and I imagine I’m invited to the party, dear?”

  Liz hesitated then exhaled. “Only if you promise to remember Mitzi’s a pet, not a food source.”

  “Of course. You can trust me, dear.” She adjusted her neon green purse—the one big enough to transport not only Joe’s circular saw but his nail gun, as well—and nodded sagely. “I can be very discreet.”

  “Yes. Well. I have to go. Snoozy will be wondering where I am. See you all tonight. Oh, and since you two are the guests of honor, Snoozy said not to bring anything. Nice to meet you, Allison.” With a friendly wave and a final warning glance at Audrey, Liz scurried toward the door.

  The old woman rounded on Joe. “Now, Joseph, please tell me you’re not going to make your friend here go back to that...that jungle of yours. What’ll you find next, a water buffalo?” She snorted, then immediately became earnest. “Although, buffalo is the perfect red meat. It’s high in protein and low in fat. I should talk to Cal about putting it on the menu. Which reminds me. It’s past my lunchtime and I’m craving a burger.” Her eyes glinted as she looked down at Joe. “In fact I think I’ll make it a double. With extra bacon.”

  “Chicken tenders on the side?” Joe suggested wryly.

  “Maybe even a lamb chop. Extra rare.”

  “And a turkey leg, just to round things out?”

  “With mincemeat pie for dessert,” she finished triumphantly. A handful of diners around them laughed while Audrey dug in her purse. Joe craned his neck. What would she pull out this time, a can of SPAM? She surprised him by pulling out what looked like a business card, which she handed to Allison.

  “Here’s my address, dear. You’re welcome to stay with me until this snake business is all settled.”

  Oh, hell, no. “It is settled. The snake is gone.”

  “I hear Snoozy doesn’t have a proper pen for the thing. What if it gets loose again? Where do you think it’ll go? The same place it’s been for the past umpty-ump years, that’s where.”

  Allison was steadily tapping the edge of Audrey’s card on the table. Next she’d be emptying the salt shaker on the table and counting crystals.

  Joe shook his head. “Mitzi’s not going to get loose. After all that time he spent grieving for her, there’s no way Snoozy will risk losing her again.” He glanced at Allison, but his words hadn’t had the desired effect. Her jaw remained rigid, her gaze fixated on the door. Damn it, Aud.

  His favorite busybody gave an encore snort and headed for the counter. Joe paid the bill and ushered Allison outside. The sky was a faint, splotchy gray, the air thick with the smell of hurriedly trimmed lawns and the promise of rain.

  “Oh, my God,” muttered Allison, over and over as he guided her toward his truck. Beneath his palm the small of her back vibrated with tension. He shut the passenger door behind her, rounded the hood and climbed into the driver’s seat, turned and braced himself for a blast of fury.

  But when she swung around to face him, he saw that she was laughing.

  * * *

  JOE SCOWLED. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I-it was just all suddenly too much. The snake jokes and Rachel’s head in the freezer and barbecuing pets and—” a fresh bout of laughter seized her and she bent at the waist, chin to her knees, panting for air. “And here I f-figured life in the country would be boring.”

  “Glad you find us entertaining.”

  That sobered her. “I didn’t mean it that way. Seriously, you didn’t find any of that funny?”

  “So all that talk about Mitzi wasn’t making you nervous?” He sounded angry. She sat up, concentrated on breathing and swiped at her face.

  “The thought of Mitzi finding her way back to the motel definitely gives me the heebie-jeebies. But like you said, Snoozy wouldn’t let her get away again.”

  “Great. Terrific. I’m glad that’s settled. But when I asked what was going on, I meant with the tapping. And the counting and the organizing and that thing this morning, when you couldn’t relax until you’d cleared the leftover seconds from the microwave. Want to tell me what that’s all about?”

  She swallowed, and stared straight ahead. Had she really thought he wouldn’t notice?

  “Um,” she managed. “That would be a ‘no.’ And by the way, thanks a lot for thinking I was making fun of your friends.”

  “Nice try. But I still want an answer.” He scooted closer and reached for her, and an unwelcome tingling started, deep in the pit of her belly. Damn it, how could she both detest him and lust after him at the same time? But all he did was push the hair out of her face. “You have a bruise.”

  “You should see the dent I left in the paneling.”

  His frown deepened. “Allison, tell me what’s going on with you. Please.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ALLISON TURNED HER head away, out of reach of his touch. God help her, she was starting to like this country version of Joe way too much. Where had all this compassion been a year ago?

  And just how much did you show him?

  She rested her elbow on the door frame and tucked her hair behind her ear. �
�There isn’t much to tell,” she said. “Whenever I get overly anxious, I...also get a little compulsive. I can usually head it off by finding a distraction. But when I’m in a controlled environment, like in a car or a meeting or—”

  “Or a diner.”

  “Right.” She turned her head, found his mouth inches from hers and for a split second lost track of her thoughts. A faint rumble of thunder rolled across the sky and a memory of a rainstorm, of a parked car and slow, drugging kisses behind steam-veiled windows flashed through her brain. She struggled to inhale, and it was like trying to breathe through a wet towel.

  “That’s when things can get a little dicey,” she murmured, her eyes riveted on his mouth. “Whenever I’m feeling trapped.”

  Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk. They both jumped. Allison jerked her head toward the side window and spotted Audrey outside, holding aloft a takeout bag.

  “Extra bacon and pepperoni,” she said loudly through the window, and winked. “See you kids at Snoozy’s.” She turned and made her way toward a beat-up, cranberry-colored Lincoln, her purse banging against her ample hip.

  Allison put a hand to her chest. “I think I just got heartburn.”

  “When did it start?”

  “The moment she mentioned pepperoni.”

  “I meant the OCD.”

  “Oh.” He shifted away and she breathed a little easier. “I’ve been dealing with this most of my adult life.” No need to tell him the past year had been the worst by far. There wasn’t a person on the planet who didn’t have to deal with some sort of stress. “And by the way, I have compulsions, not full-fledged OCD. Most people misuse the term. True OCD is debilitating because you spend every minute of every day fighting a specific fear. There’s no vacation from it, no cure. My urges are nothing in comparison.”

  He studied her, his mouth grim. “So you were dealing with this while we were together. How did I not notice?”

  Wasn’t it obvious? Considering the number of hours they’d dedicated to the job, he’d had as much time for her as she’d had for him. But he didn’t seem to expect an answer.