by Nicole James
“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, darlin’. I think you’ve watched that Jessica Simpson Dukes of Hazard music video one too many times, and it’s put ideas in your head.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I think you can see that I’m working here.”
“Touché!” he replied, laughing. “Yeah, you’re workin’ it, babe. I’ll give you that.”
“Oh!” she yelled, shocked and turned the hose on him, hitting him full blast in the chest. She saw the look on his face and was immediately remorseful. “I’m so sorry, Cary.”
Before she knew what he was about, he picked up the bucket and threw the water in it at her.
She screamed, standing there frozen with the shock of the cold water hitting her. She looked down. She was covered with soapy water.
Cary took advantage of that moment to wrestle the hose away from her. “You’re in trouble now, girl,” he warned, advancing on her with a grin.
She screamed again and ran behind the car.
“Come on, Jess, I’ve got to rinse the soap off,” he taunted, advancing on her.
She tried to run for the faucet to turn off his water supply, but he caught her, hitting her good with a spray from the hose. She shrieked and screamed, “Cary, stop! Oh, it’s so cold!”
He finally dropped the hose. “Yeah, I can see that, darlin’.” He laughed, looking her up and down, his gaze finally connecting with her eyes.
They stared at each other a moment, until the sound of an approaching vehicle broke the spell. Cary tore his eyes from hers long enough to glance up the drive. “There’s your dad’s truck coming up the driveway, Jess. You better get your butt in the house, and put some clothes on, girl.”
“Oh, crap!” she shrieked and ran for the house.
His laughter followed her up the porch stairs.
A short time later, Summer was pulling back up the gravel drive to the farmhouse and around back to park. She saw Steve and Cary standing next to a tractor, working on the motor. Well, Steve appeared to be doing the actual work. Cary was smoking a cigarette and giving suggestions.
Summer got out of the truck and gathered up her packages.
“Hey, darlin’. Where ya been?” Cary asked.
“In town. I had to pick up a few things. Oh, I almost forgot.” She spun around back to the pickup. Reaching in through the window, she grabbed the business card off the dash and walked over to the tractor.
Steve stood as she approached, wiping his hands on a rag. His gaze swept over her, appreciatively. Damn, he sure liked when she wore one of those sundresses she’d picked up. She looked so sweet and feminine, and she had great legs.
“Here,” she held the card out to him. “He said to tell you hello.”
Steve took the card and looked at it. The smile disappeared from his face, and his eyes snapped back up to hers. “Where did you get this?” he demanded, frowning.
Summer was taken aback by his change in demeanor. “I…I had a flat tire in town. He happened by and changed it. Why?”
“Stay away from this guy!” Steve snapped, shaking the card in her face to make his point. Then he tossed the card on the ground and stalked off to the barn.
Cary bent down, picked up the card, and looked at it.
Summer turned to Cary with her mouth opened. “What did I say?”
“Babe, that’s one can of worms you don’t want to open, especially not with Steve,” Cary stated, jabbing his finger at the card and handing it back to her. He turned to leave.
“Wait. Cary, wait. What are you talking about? Please, tell me.”
“No way, babe. You’re not going to get that story out of me,” he said, backing away with his hands up.
She started to follow him.
Cary stopped. “Summer, this is not the time to talk to Steve. I’m being straight up with you here. Just drop it, okay? Take my word for it. Give him some time alone right now.”
He turned and followed Steve into the barn.
Summer stood there, confused, watching him walk away, and then she did what he said. She turned and walked into the house.
Chapter Eight
Cary came in the back door, the screen door banging behind him. He walked into the kitchen and yelled, “Hey, anybody home?”
He got no response.
He wandered over, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed out a bottle of beer. Twisting off the top, he flipped it into the garbage can and tipped the bottle up, drinking half of it in one gulp. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face and throat and down his chest. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he reached down, grabbed the hem, and wiped the sweat off.
“Damn, it’s a killer out there, today,” he complained to no one as he strolled into the living room, where a small window air conditioner was running full blast. Peeling his shirt off, he tossed it on a chair, and then stood in front of the A/C for a while, before plopping down on the couch and taking another long pull off his beer.
He set it down on the table, leaned back on the sofa with his legs stretched out, and crossed at the ankles. Lacing his fingers behind his head, he closed his eyes.
A few minutes later, Jessie came downstairs and walked in the room. She stopped short when she saw him. Assuming he was asleep, a sly grin spread across her face. She tiptoed over to him, leaned down, and tickled his bare chest with a long strand of her hair.
In a flash, his arms came up, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her across his chest.
“Oh, you wretch! You were awake the whole time!”
He laughed, and then she laughed. They stared at each other a moment, and their smiles faded. His eyes slid to her cleavage pressed up against his chest.
Jessie tried to pull away. “Cary, let me up!”
“Not so fast. I think I need to exact a little retribution for that stunt.” Before Jessie knew what he was about, he rolled her onto her back and had her arms pinned. “So, what’ll you give me?” he asked.
Jessie’s gaze ran over his tanned muscular arms and chest, and up, finally, to the look in his eyes. “What do you want?” she asked in a breathless voice.
He laughed again. “Honey, that’s a loaded question if I ever heard one.” One hand reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “How about a kiss?” he added with a sly grin.
She cocked her head to the side, pretending to consider it, “Hmm, I guess.” She started to lean up to give him a quick peck.
He pulled his head up, just out of her reach.
She looked up at him questioningly.
“Uh-uh, baby. A real kiss.” He watched as her eyes widened slightly. “Long, hot and deep.”
He lowered his head slowly and claimed her mouth. He released her hands, but held his chest just about hers, propping himself on his elbows.
Jessie’s arms found their way around his neck and pulled him closer. The kiss started sweet and tender, but with each passing second it grew more intense.
The phone rang.
Cary pulled up reluctantly. “Saved by the bell,” he said, looking into her eyes a moment, and then he was standing up and grabbing her hand to pull her up with him.
“Better get that, baby doll,” he said, looking down into her dazed face and turning her toward the phone on the desk in the hall.
She finally broke eye contact with him, stumbled into the hall, and picked up the receiver. “Yes,” she said, “Oh, hi, Pop.”
Cary picked up his shirt and left through the back door. He stopped on the back steps and lit a cigarette with hands that trembled. He took a deep drag and tilted his head skyward, exhaling the smoke. “Lord, I’m in trouble.”
*****
Summer pulled the pickup truck into the parking area in front of Justin’s Garage. It had been several days since her flat tire. She’d meant to come back sooner. Climbing out of the truck, she saw that all of the bay doors were open, cooling the place off in the afternoon heat, she imagined, as she walked toward the garage.
Justin heard a car door s
lam and pulled his head from under the hood of a car to see who had pulled up. In walked Summer, in another one of those feminine summer dresses and looking cool and beautiful, even in the summer heat. Her long, ash-blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, but it still fell almost to her waist. She sure was a looker, he thought, wiping his hands on a rag. He noticed she was carrying something in her hands. It appeared to be a plate, covered with a checkered dishtowel. She held it out to him. Justin tilted his head to the side in question.
“For you,” she said with a smile.
“For me?”
“For helping me the other day. My way of saying thanks.”
“You already said thank you.”
“Just take it, already.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he responded, reaching up and taking it out of her hands. He flipped back the dishtowel and saw a plate of brownies. Looking up at her, he smiled. “Did you bake these?”
“Of course. I slaved over a hot oven all morning.” She fanned her face theatrically.
He just grinned. “Come on. This calls for a break.”
She followed him back to his office.
He opened the door for her. She walked in and stood in the room. He closed the door and set the plate on the desk. He leaned back against the desk and took her hand. “Come here.” He watched her eyes widen as he tugged on her hand until she was standing between his legs. Then he kissed her softly on the mouth.
When he lifted his mouth, she whispered, “What was that for?”
“To say thank you for the brownies.”
“But the brownies were my thank you to you. You don’t thank me for them.”
The corners of his mouth pulled up. “I guess I was never very good at etiquette.”
She stood there, mesmerized, staring into his eyes.
“I’m glad you came back. I was wondering if I’d see you again.”
“Well, it’s a small town. We’d probably run into each other again.”
“Maybe.” He smiled, studying her face. “Look, Summer, I’m the kind of man, if I see something I want, I go after it. I learned the hard way that if you wait too long, you miss your chance.” He looked into her eyes to see if he could read her. “Does this scare you?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the top of her hand.
She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She was still thinking about that kiss. She wasn’t even sure she’d heard what he’d said. Her eyes dropped back down to his lips, and then he was pulling her close for another kiss. He held her left hand in his while his other hand reached up and held her cheek, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss. He was a very good kisser, she realized. He made her forget everything, but this moment. He definitely knew what he was doing. She broke off and stepped back. “I…I should be going.”
He looked into her eyes a moment and then asked, “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe we could have a cup of coffee or lunch or something. We could take this slow, get to know each other.”
“I...I don’t know. I…”
“Tomorrow. Meet me at the diner at eleven.”
“Eleven,” she repeated, and then she turned to leave.
Justin let her go, watching her walk away.
Summer hurried back to the truck and climbed in. She slammed the door and sat there a moment. Unconsciously, her hand came up and touched her lips. What just happened?
She started the truck and backed out.
When Summer got home, she walked into the kitchen, feeling hot and sticky from the drive back from town in the old truck that had no air conditioning. She was longing to take a nice cool shower, but knowing she would have to get dinner going soon, she headed toward the refrigerator to decide what to make.
A note stuck to the front drew her attention. She pulled it off and read it.
Summer-
Guess you went to town.
Don’t make dinner.
We’re all going to the Roadhouse tonight.
-Steve
She glanced up at the clock. Four. The guys would be milking soon. She had a couple of hours, at least before they’d be ready to leave. Smiling, she headed up to take a shower.
It was six when Steve came in from the barn. He stopped to wash up in the mudroom, before walking into the kitchen.
Summer was at the sink, pouring a glass of lemonade. He moved up behind her quietly and slid his arms around her waist. She jumped, almost spilling the drink she was pouring.
“Whoa, babe. Careful, now.”
“Steve! You scared me to death.”
He chuckled and leaned down to nuzzle her neck. “Damn, babe. You sure smell good.”
She grinned as she set the glass pitcher down and raised her glass toward her mouth to take a drink. Before she could, Steve’s hand was pulling the glass from her hand and raising it to his mouth. He guzzled down half of it.
“Steve! That was my drink. Get your own.”
He grinned down at her. “Didn’t your momma teach you how to share?” At his mention of her mother, a woman she couldn’t even remember, her smile faded. Steve saw her reaction over the rim of the glass. He lowered it slowly, knowing he’d screwed up. “Damn, babe. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
She shook it off and put on a smile. “No. It’s fine. So, Roadhouse, huh? Is this a jeans kind of place?”
“You wear whatever you want, sweetheart.” He set the glass down on the counter and brushed a strand of hair back from her face. Thinking her incredibly strong to put on a brave face when he knew the sadness just under the surface. He hoped a night out would be good for her. “I’m gonna take a quick shower.” He glanced up at the clock over their heads. “You gonna be ready to go by seven?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
He turned and went upstairs.
About an hour later, Steve and Pop were sitting at the kitchen table, waiting. Jessie finally came down the stairs. She was dressed in an old pair of faded, low rider jeans and a soft flowing silver tank top of some clingy fabric. It was covered in an intricate design of beading and sequins that gave it just enough sparkle without being gaudy.
Steve’s eyes ran over her, thinking how his little girl was all grown up. “You look real pretty, baby-girl.”
She came over, sat on his lap, and hugged his neck. “Thanks, Daddy.”
He rubbed her back. “Homework all done?”
“Dad, I’ve got all weekend.”
“Yeah. Just don’t leave it all to Sunday night, okay?”
“I won’t.” She climbed off his lap.
“Go see if Summer is ready,” Steve said to her.
“Dad, she’ll be down in a minute. Don’t rush her.”
“Jessie.”
“Fine.” She turned and headed up the stairs. A moment later she tapped on the bathroom door. “You ready, Summer? Dad is chomping at the bit to leave.”
The door swung open, and Jessie’s eyes swept over Summer. Then she just grinned. “Dad’s gonna flip.”
“Flip good or flip bad?”
“Good. Definitely.”
“Maybe it’s too much. You’re wearing jeans. I should probably go change back into jeans.”
“Don’t you dare! You look great. Give me a five second head start. I want to make sure I can see his face when he sees you.” She turned and darted down the stairs.
Summer took a deep breath and said to herself, oh, hell with it. She moved toward the stairs.
Steve looked up when Jessie bounded down the stairs alone. “She comin’?” he growled.
Jessie just grinned and nodded.
Steve heard heels clicking on the stairs. He rose from his chair, picking up his coffee cup, and turning to carry it to the sink. “Finally,” he murmured, and that was all he got out before he froze in place, his mouth dropping open.
Pop also rose to his feet. “Well, don’t you look nice, Summer.”
Steve’s eyes swept over her. She was wearing a black eyelet lace, sundress. It had a halter neckline that showed a
hint of cleavage and that also bared her back. The dress was tight at the waist, the full skirt flaring out. It fell to about three inches above her knee, revealing the long length of her tanned legs. On her feet were strappy black high-heeled sandals. Steve stood there, speechless until Pop nudged his shoulder, breaking the spell and asked, “Doesn’t she son?”
Steve swallowed, trying to regain his composure. Finding his voice, he agreed, “Yeah. You look beautiful, Summer.”
“You’ll have them boys tonight lining up to dance with you. But, you better save me one, young lady,” Pop insisted.
She smiled at him. “Of course.” Then Steve watched as she seemed to panic. “Wait, there’s dancing? I thought it was a restaurant.”
“Restaurant and bar. They got a dance floor, babe,” he replied.
“Oh.”
He moved toward the door and opened it, stepping back for her to proceed him. He looked down at her smiling face as she stepped past him.
Jessie grinned as she watched her father go practically speechless over Summer. They all headed out the door and she saw Cary waiting over by his truck which was parked in front of his place.
“You ridin’ with me, Jess?” he yelled across the yard.
“Sure,” she called back and headed over to him.
She watched as his eyes slid over her, noticing the sparkle of her shirt in the dimming evening twilight.
“Look at you, babe. All sparkly.”
When she reached him, she slugged him in the shoulder. “Shut up.”
“Just kidding, Jess. You look real pretty.”
“Take a look at Summer,” she said, turning to look over her shoulder back toward her dad’s truck, where he was holding the door for Summer to climb in.
Cary looked over and whistled softly.
Jessie turned back to look at him. “I know! You should have seen dad’s face when he saw her. Priceless.”
Cary moved toward his door. “Climb in, squirt.”
“Squirt. Who you callin’ squirt? I’m five-eight.”
They both climbed in the truck.
