Want You

by Stacy Finz

  “How come?”

  “Don’t know. Midlife crisis, maybe.” He hitched his shoulders, his lips curving up in the corners.

  “You’re a little young for that, don’t you think?” She took a drink of her tea and stared at him over the rim of the glass. Big, bedroom-brown eyes. “Perhaps you need a Corvette and a girlfriend.”

  He laughed “A Porsche, maybe. How’s a girlfriend gonna make me less restless?”

  She lifted one dark brow.

  “Are you telling me I need to get laid?”

  “Do you?”

  He took a long slug of his shake, then mixed the ice cream around and took another one. “You think this is appropriate conversation for the workplace?”

  “You started it.” Yeah, he had. Maybe he needed to brush up on GA’s employee handbook. “And it never stopped Felix and me.”

  “From talking about sex?” He didn’t let her answer that. “You almost done?”

  “We’re not getting dessert?”

  “If you want it.” He held up his shake. “I already had mine.” But he could do for some more, he thought, as he fixated on her mouth. Her pretty pink lips.

  “You’re paying, right? Then yeah, I want dessert.”

  He called over the waiter and asked for the menus again. She perused the offerings and decided on the apple pie à la mode. The server returned with a heaping portion and two forks.

  “You gonna share?” he asked her.

  She pushed the plate toward him. “Dig in.”

  He tried not to hog it, but it was damned good pie and it was fun fighting her for it. But mostly he liked watching her enjoy it, the way she licked the fork after each bite and closed her eyes. It made him imagine kissing her and the way she might lick . . . Nope. Not going there. And TJ forced the image out of his head.

  “You going to Old Glory tonight?” she asked.

  “I hadn’t thought about it. Why, are you?”

  She scraped a spoon across the plate, getting the last of the ice cream. “Probably, although it’ll be packed with tourists.”

  They’d be up to take advantage of the snow, and on Fridays, Boden booked bands to play. A big draw.

  He needed to stay away from her in the off-hours. Working together was hard enough. “Yeah, I’ll go,” he heard himself say anyway. God, he needed to start dating and swore to himself that he’d call Mandy. She was successful, driven, hot; just his type.

  He paid the bill, and on their way home it started to snow again. Sporadic flurries at first, but then it got heavy enough for him to turn on his windshield wipers to full blast.

  “I’m glad you’re driving and not me,” she said.

  Her rattletrap was lucky to make it over a hill, let alone through a few inches of snow. “You do anything about your transmission yet?”

  “I have to wait until I get paid. Then I’ll hit you up for your contact.”

  “All right. Just let me know.”

  Perhaps with her new salary she’d be able to buy a car. Not his place to suggest it, though. Just like it wasn’t his place to dissuade her from Win. His brother was a great many things. Excellent things. Fun, charming, and kind. Win was and had always been a good person. Reliable, though, he wasn’t. But he was TJ’s brother and the Garners were fiercely loyal to one another.

  It took them fifteen minutes longer to get back to town, not that he minded. She looked good in the passenger side of his truck. He parked in front of Garner Adventure and started to get out.

  Deb grabbed his arm. “I wanted to tell you something.”

  He shut his door and turned in his seat to face her.

  “Thank you for including me in the trip to Jillian’s and asking for my opinion, even if you don’t agree with it. FYI: I still think the online store sucks.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I got that.” He paused, and then for no reason at all said, “You may be right about it, but Jillian has more experience than both of us when it comes to retail, and the truth is, I don’t always use my head where you’re concerned.”

  She jerked in surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He let out a breath, tired of dancing around it. “You know exactly what I mean. You also know that it’s inappropriate on so many levels I don’t know where to start.” Win. The fact that TJ was her boss. The list went on and on.

  When he attempted to get out of the cab, she tugged on his arm.

  “Deb.” As warnings went, it was pretty weak. Downright soft, but his resistance was wearing thin.

  She gazed into his eyes and wouldn’t look away. “Just a little one.” And then she came over the center console and kissed him, barely brushing his lips. Yet he still felt a tightening in his groin and a hot spark of pleasure spread through him. Her hands clutched his shoulders and her soft breasts grazed his chest and she smelled sweet, like talcum powder. Everything about her was making it difficult for him to breathe. If he didn’t get out of the truck soon, he was going to kiss her for real.

  “Hey, Deb, you think we can get back to work now?” His voice was hoarse and he couldn’t seem to move.

  “Absolutely, boss,” she said in a whisper against his mouth, and he felt his heart squeeze the same way it always did when she graced him with a smile at the diner or waved to him from across the room at Old Glory.

  She scrambled back over to her side of the cab, hopped out onto the street, and they walked together to the front door, her hand on the sleeve of his jacket to keep from slipping on the icy sidewalk in her high heels. And that warm feeling he’d experienced in the truck continued to wrap itself around him like a down blanket.

  They got inside and found Win leaning against the reception counter, and the air suddenly turned cold.

  “Hey, hot stuff,” he said, and Deb took her hand off TJ’s jacket and looked down at the floor.

  Chapter Seven

  “Earth to Deb.” Hannah waved her hand in front of Deb’s face. Deb was lost in her own thoughts, still reliving the not-quite-a kiss she and TJ had shared in the front of his truck. The way he’d felt so solid pressed against her and the sweet taste of his lips. And how she’d probably shocked the hell out of him. He certainly had shocked the hell out of her with his bit about losing his head where she was concerned.

  “Are you listening to me? You need to insist that he change it.” Hannah searched the bar for a server. Old Glory was filling up and Boden’s staff had their hands full. “TJ’s a great businessman, but his sense of aesthetics sucks.”

  Deb thought it was too soon to start throwing her weight around. Besides, what the hell did she know about an online store? If cute little drawings worked for J. Peterman, who was she to eighty-six it? No one, that’s who.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “This Jillian woman seems to know what she’s doing. You should see her. She’s like a movie star and wanted to do TJ on the desk.”

  Hannah laughed. “He has that effect on women.”

  Didn’t she know it. He’d rocked her world and they hadn’t even exchanged saliva. But she wasn’t ready to think about it, let alone talk about it. Her friends had put up with years of her whining about Win. Uh-uh, not going to do it again. “Right? I never noticed it before, but he does, doesn’t he?”

  “Who does what?” Foster grabbed the chair next to Deb and tucked his messenger bag under the table.

  “TJ,” Deb said. “He’s a chick magnet. Who knew?”

  He stared at her like she’d just come out of a five-year coma. “Uh, like everyone. He’s so Chris Hemsworth . . . and that body. To die for. Who’s hot for him?”

  “This web designer in Reno. We met with her about the GA site and she was all over him. ‘Oh, TJ, you’re so smart. Oh, TJ . . .’” Deb did her best impression of Jillian, but it came out more like a bad Marilyn Monroe.

  “Frankly, I’m surprised no one has snatched him up yet.” Foster perused his menu and, like Hannah had done, gazed around the dining room, looking for a server. “Boden needs to hire bette
r people. This is ridiculous.”

  “He’s working on it,” Deb said in Boden’s defense.

  “The only reason why TJ’s still single is because he’s too busy at GA to date.” Hannah waved, trying to get Boden’s attention. He saw her and sent a waitress over.

  They ordered and Deb got something light because she’d already eaten with TJ. Boden sent over a complimentary basket of pub fries to hold them over until their meals came. The band was in the corner warming up. Pretty soon it would be too loud to talk.

  “He said he was coming tonight.” Deb scanned the crowd.

  “Who? TJ?” Foster asked and emptied half a bottle of ketchup on his plate.

  “Uh-huh.” She kept searching. “I wonder if something came up.”

  Win was in the other room, playing darts with Josh. When they’d gotten back from Reno, he’d been more attentive than usual. Then, like always, he ran off to chase the next shiny dime. The man had the attention span of a gnat, except, of course, when he was focused on a new woman. Then she became the center of his world. Deb had been that center more than once. It was a little like crack, having Win worship at your altar. So much so that even when he cast you away, the withdrawal was intense enough that you’d sell your soul for a hit.

  She’d lost a lot of time and expended a lot of energy feeding the Win addiction. Too much. And if Win was like crack, getting tangled up with TJ would be like Oreos. She’d read somewhere that eating the cookies activated more neurons in lab rats’ pleasure centers than cocaine.

  “Maybe he has a date,” Hannah said. “Delaney wants to set him up with Karen, though Colt told her that TJ is interested in a woman who does event planning at the Four Seasons.” She looked at Deb. “You hear anything about that?”

  “Nope.” Maybe the blonde from the other night. Deb would rather not think about it.

  She sidelined the conversation about TJ’s love life and they wound up discussing Deb’s upcoming birthday party until the band started playing. Josh joined Hannah at their table. Win had disappeared, probably with a woman. Foster left because he had an early morning the next day and Delaney, who’d showed up solo, took his seat. Colt was on his way.

  And suddenly Deb felt like odd person out, the only one without a significant other. She searched the crowd again, thinking that at least if TJ were here they could sit together. And talk the way they had at supper. But he was MIA. At the end of the first set, she decided to call it a night. She’d get a good night’s rest and hit Winter Bowl right after her shift at the diner.

  * * *

  Saturday morning, TJ unlocked the door at GA to get his skis and nearly ran head-on into Win. He was drinking one of his disgusting green smoothies and eating a granola bar, which seemed like a weird combination to TJ.

  “A little early for you, isn’t it?” As far as TJ knew, Win didn’t have anything on the schedule until ten.

  Win scowled. “Couldn’t sleep.” TJ didn’t want to delve too deep into the reason for that. “What are you doing here? I thought it was your day off.”

  “Came in early to audit the equipment before it all gets checked out for the weekend.” Even when he was supposed to have the first real weekend off in three weeks, he couldn’t help but come into the office. Someone should come up with a pill for that because they had one for everything else. “I’m grabbing my skies and heading out.”

  “Where you going?” Win followed him to his office, slurping on his drink.

  “Winter Bowl.”

  “Winter Bowl? Your arthritis acting up? What’s the matter with Royal Slope or the backcountry? You can’t get Riley to take you up in the helicopter?”

  TJ clenched his teeth. Win’s swagger really got on his nerves sometimes. Maybe TJ didn’t want to go balls-out. Maybe he just wanted to chill and spend a day outside. But that was his little brother, always swooping in, sucking the joy out of everything, and hogging the glory.

  Hey, hot stuff. Give me a freaking break. But this wasn’t about yesterday or about the moment he’d shared with Deb in his truck or Win’s impeccable timing. This was just . . . ah, hell, he didn’t know. He just felt agitated.

  “Nothing wrong with Winter Bowl,” he said, trying to quell his simmering anger by walking away.

  “If you’re a seventy-five-year-old grandmother,” Win called to TJ’s back.

  He whipped around and glared at Win. “I guess not all of us can make the U.S. Olympic team. Oh, wait a minute, you did and then dropped out.” He didn’t usually throw that in Win’s face, but his brother was asking for it.

  “Fuck you.” Win shoved him and stomped out of TJ’s office.

  “That was shitty.” Colt appeared out of nowhere, filling up the doorway, wearing his self-righteous face.

  Apparently, the whole family had decided to show up at seven thirty in the freaking morning. Most times, TJ couldn’t get them to attend a meeting at nine.

  “Get off your high horse, Colt.” TJ grabbed his skis and pushed past his brother, who came after him.

  “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

  “This place. That’s what’s the matter with me,” he said, then shoved open the front door and walked out.

  By the time TJ got to Winter Bowl, guilt gnawed at him. Win dropping out of the Olympics team was a sensitive issue for his little brother. TJ shouldn’t have rubbed it in. It wasn’t Win’s fault that everything got handed to him, even things he didn’t want. And it wasn’t Win’s fault that TJ worked hard for everything he got and even things he didn’t.

  After an hour of ripping down a black-diamond slope, he felt better. Two hours later, he sent Win a text: Sorry.

  In response, he got a shaka-sign emoji. Hang loose. That was the thing about being a Garner. No grudges. As their dad liked to say, “There’s no buddy like a brother.”

  Suddenly, he had an appetite again and went in pursuit of food, stowing his skis and poles on one of the racks outside the Four Seasons. In the lobby, guests sat around the huge stone fireplace on leather couches, having afternoon drinks. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday, TJ supposed, though he’d rather be outside. He decided against the restaurant—too formal—and waited in line at the café to get a sandwich. Deb had said she was going skiing today and he wondered if she’d gone to the Slope or Squaw.

  When it was his turn at the counter, he ordered a ham and cheese on sourdough, a bag of chips, two cookies, and a cup of coffee. He took it to a table in the corner. For the price, the sandwich should’ve been better, but he was hungry and wolfed it down.

  He unwrapped one of the cookies and ate it, stuffing the other one in his pocket. After he cleaned up his mess, he went outside to get his skis and boots. There at the rack was Deb.

  “You stalking me or are you actually skiing here today?”

  As Win had so obnoxiously pointed out, Winter Bowl wasn’t really a place they went. Too filled with tourists. The runs were nice enough but a little less challenging than hard-core skiers were in to, including Deb. He’d come because it was good business for the resort’s top management to see a Garner here occasionally and he was the only one willing to do it.

  “Free lift tickets,” she said. “One of my regulars at the diner gave them to me. He’s got a torn meniscus.” She bobbed her head at the hotel. “I was on my way in to get a cup of coffee.”

  “I’ll buy.” And maybe they could talk about the thing that happened in his truck. Hell, he didn’t even know what to call it.

  “Nah-uh, I can afford it now that I have a real job.” She looked so happy that it made him feel outrageously good, like he’d single-handedly put that smile on her face.

  “Whatever you say, big spender.” He trailed her into the hotel, enjoying the view of her ass in ski pants. They went to the snack bar and the girl working the cash register acted like they were old friends.

  “I was just here,” he told Deb when she raised her brows.

  They took their drinks to a table with a view of the ski lifts going up and do
wn the mountainside.

  “You seem to capture hearts wherever you go.” Her lips twitched with humor.

  “It’s a Garner gift,” he said facetiously because the girl behind the counter was eighteen at the oldest.

  “What happened to you last night? I thought you were coming to Old Glory.”

  He shrugged. “Got hung up at work. Was the band good?”

  “I didn’t wind up staying.”

  “No?” He waited to see if she’d say why.

  She cupped her mug with both hands and took a sip. “I had an early morning at the Morning Glory.”

  “Yep. I know how that is. Were Colt and Delaney there?” He pulled his saved cookie from his pocket and pushed half of it toward her.

  “Delaney came from work and Colt got there just before I left.”

  “You talk to her about your idea?”

  “The jacket tent? Come on, be honest; you think it’s silly.”

  “If I thought it was silly I’d tell you, Deb. You should’ve talked to her about it.” He took a bite of his half of the cookie and gave her the rest.

  She cocked her head to one side. “You really think I should tell her about it?”

  “You’re in charge of GA’s merchandise. Hell yeah, you should tell her about it to see what she thinks.”

  She beamed, her whole face like sunshine, and the fact that he could light her up that way sort of sucked the air from his lungs. It was that heady. And dangerous to his constitution.

  “Seriously, I can’t believe I get to do this.”

  He leaned into the table and watched her closely. “So yesterday . . .”

  “Uh-huh, what about it?” She moved forward until their shoulders were almost touching.

  And that was when Deb’s phone rang.

  She grabbed it out of the pocket of her backpack. One look at the display and she quickly answered. It took TJ only a second or so to deduce that it was one of Deb’s parents. A plumbing problem.

  “I’ve gotta go,” she said and stuck the phone back in her pack.