One Hard Ride
Page 27
Candy felt she was failing the test, whatever it was. She hated that, but how to bail herself out? Normally, she had a pretty good sense of humor. Normally, she didn’t care if a guy didn’t like her. She expected them all to be jerks. She’d met so many of them.
“You’re a pretty girl.”
That was unexpected. Her eyebrows went up. She blurted, “Said the pretty man.”
“Ah. Mutual admiration. That’s a good start. Isn’t it?”
A good start? “I guess.”
He leaned toward her again. “I have to tell you that I don’t usually go for being called pretty.”
“You don’t?”
“Nope. Those are fighting words.”
“Oh. So you’ve been called that before?”
He grinned again. “Once or twice.”
“You could make a living doing underwear ads, if you wanted to.”
Holy crap. Had she just said that aloud?
“I’d have to come into the city more to do that. And,” he seemed apologetic, “I don’t think I wanna do that.”
“You don’t like the city?” All her hopes crushed in a second.
“I hate the city, but I was talking about posing in underwear for a billboard picture. I think my mother would roll over in her grave and come back to haunt me. She was pretty big on modesty.”
She would have cried right then, over the I hate the city thing, if he’d looked away. This would never work. Not to mention, she was just joking about the underwear thing. Man, he was too serious.
“I might,” he hesitated, “might be talked into taking private pictures, though.”
Candy squeezed her eyelids tight. Don’t picture it. Don’t picture it. Too late. She had him in Calvin Klein’s on black and white film in a poster on the ceiling above her bed. She would never sleep again for picturing that. Already, she saw a million nights staring at her ceiling, thinking about this moment.
She had to laugh inwardly at herself. “Too bad I don’t have a camera. Now I’m wondering if you wear a thong, bun-huggers, or boxers.”
“What do you think a farm boy would wear?”
Ooh. She winced. The farm boy/city girl thing resurfaced. “Probably not a thong.”
“You got that right.” He, too, wrinkled his nose in distaste. “You’d have to hogtie me to get me into one of those things.”
Hog tie? What the heck was that? She couldn’t ask. That would make her look all the more stupid.
Erica returned, carrying three drinks. Candy killed her margarita off. Two down. She had to quit after the third. It would be an all-nighter. She could nurse it until closing if they were there that long.
“What did I miss?” Erica’s too-bright, assessing gaze split from one to the other. She plopped into the booth. “Oh. You did not go to the city girl/country boy thing already, did you? I only left you for two minutes.”
Yes, and skipped straight to his underwear and posing for porn pictures. Oh, Erica would absolutely kill her for turning the conversation like that.
“You were right about one thing.” Levi palmed his soda glass. “She’s prettier than pumpkin pie with whipped cream on top.”
Candy turned on Erica. “You did not describe me like that, did you?” So grateful to leave the underwear convo behind, Candy glared at her friend.
“Pa-shaw.” Which meant Yes, of course. He’s a country boy. Food metaphors are the way to go.
Outraged on principle, Candy asked, “What else did she say about me?”
“That you get grumpy pretty easy.”
That was true. But it didn’t make Candy happy. “And you still came to meet me?”
Levi shrugged. “What girl doesn’t?”
“Not me. I’m the soul of pleasantry.” Erica lied, but neither Candy nor Levi argued the point. He grinned, though, and Candy knew he was being prudent. Erica was known for things like dumping drinks in people’s laps and smacking people upside the head.
“If she told you I was a city girl, and you hate the city, why did you come?”
“Curious, I guess.”
“About what?”
“Pumpkin pie. And I had three visits this last month. Sort of intrigued me. Plus, Erica was relentless in demanding I take a break from the cows to do this.”
Three? The other cousins? Candy looked toward the door. Curse Erica for pinning her in the booth. She needed to go home.
“So,” Candy squeezed the words out, “why bother?”
The guy needed to get up and walk away and call it good, so she could cry in her drink and on her friend’s shoulder. Why in hell hadn’t she been born a country girl? That had been a problem for all Erica’s cousins.
That’s what was wrong with her? A girl couldn’t help where she was born and raised. She didn’t understand these men from Erica’s family.
“What did they say? I’m sure they lied.” Erica practically growled. “Throw it out. I’ll discredit every one of them.” But before he could say anything else, she said, “Better yet. Why don’t you tell us why you were late?”
“I was pulling a calf.”
“Pulling a calf?” What did that mean? A calf was more important than a date?
“Sometimes heifers have trouble. The calves get stuck. We have to reach in, wrap a chain around their front feet and winch them out.”
“Ow.” Candy envisioned the process. The thought of it hurt. Reach in? Wrap a chain? Holy friggin’ Maloney.
“It wasn’t expected. I didn’t have time to call.”
“Farm emergencies rule Levi’s life,” Erica explained. “This is why he never keeps a girl long enough to fall in love or get married. That and the fact that most girls don’t wanna live on a farm forever. Cows stink.”
Well, Candy didn’t think she did, either. Not if cows were more important than anything else. So, what was the point?
To be nice, she said, “I hope the calf and its mother are okay.”
“Actually…” He took a swig from his drink. “The heifer didn’t make it.”
“What?” Candy didn’t want to grasp his meaning. At least, she hoped she was wrong in her interpretation. She looked to Erica for confirmation.
“Oh, God.” Erica groaned, her disgust evident in her tone. “Do not go into it.”
Candy gasped with horror but pulled herself together and reached out to put a hand on Levi’s forearm. “I’m sorry. I hope she didn’t suffer.”
His gaze landed on her touch and followed her arm up, over her shoulder—keying in on the peeking bra strap and then to her face. She felt his perusal like a living, crawling thing, tickling her skin all the way down to her nipples, up her cleavage, snaking along her throat, and over her lips, which he keyed in on.
She fought the urge to lick her lips, ended up rubbing them together instead, and then realized his gaze had skipped a beat and was now looking her in the eye.
“I wish I could say she didn’t. She hemorrhaged. It was a pretty bad deal. Vet didn’t get there fast enough.”
“That’s awful.” She squeezed his arm. “What did you do with her?”
“Well, that’s part of what took so long.”
“Do not explain anything else,” Erica warned. “It’s too hot in here. You want to step out the back door, Candy, and get some air?”
There was no waiting for a reply. Erica climbed out of the booth and headed out. Candy didn’t have a choice.
“I-I’m sorry.”
Scooting around and off the bench seat, Candy asked, “Will you be here when we get back?”
He stood up, too. There was quite a difference in height. She had to tip her head to look up at him.
It was odd, the way she felt. Too afraid to walk away. Too sure there was no hope. Desperately wanting to beg him to stick around.
The alcohol hit her. She felt woozy, too. Dizzy. Damn.
“Oh!”
He scooped in, slipping an arm around her waist, dragging her against his chest. “You okay?”
“No, uh, I-I
don’t drink much.”
She grabbed hold of his upper arm with one hand, and her other snagged a grip at his shirt. Focusing on her mouth, his lips descended upon hers, and she didn’t know what stirred her more. His hold was firm, possessive. His lips were demanding, taking.
She gasped, and his tongue swept in. And suddenly, his lips softened, coaxing her for reaction. She melted against him, and realized his lower body had firmed where hers met his below the belt. Pupils widening, his eyes darkened with something she could only name as desire. Need swamped her whole body with a damp sweat.
Oh hell. The farm boy could kiss.
How long did it last? She couldn’t count the seconds. It ended all too soon, though, and he set her on her feet before she even realized he’d lifted her off them, but he kept his hands on her until he was sure she was steady.
“Yeah. I think I’ll be here. Now, go on. See what little secret Erica needs to tell.”
Candy blinked. What had just happened?
Thank you for purchasing this Wild Rose Press, Inc. publication.
For other wonderful stories of erotic romance,
please visit our on-line bookstore at
www.thewilderroses.com.
For questions or more information
contact us at
info@thewildrosepress.com.
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
www.thewilderroses.com