Sexy Stranger

by Kendall Ryan

  I followed his gaze until I caught sight of the girl who had to be Dana. She was pretty and petite, with a sprinkle of freckles over her long, thin nose. Down her back, she wore a thick brown plait that was tied with a bright red ponytail holder.

  “Classy,” I said. “Her ponytail matches her dress.” I knew I sounded bitchy, but damned if I could help it. She was adorable, and I hated her on sight.

  That’s a lie. I’d hated her from the second they’d mentioned her at the chicken place. It was petty and small and silly, but there it was.

  Molly smirked. “Someone’s jealous.”

  “As if.” I rolled my eyes, but I turned so Molly couldn’t see the nausea on my face. This party was super nice of her to do for me, and I wasn’t about to be an ungrateful brat for any reason.

  I made my way onto the dance floor and giggled with Molly until Luke appeared at my side, a drink in hand.

  I raised my eyebrows. “What’s up, cowboy?”

  “I thought we should toast. I followed your advice.”

  I stopped dancing and looked up at him as Molly wandered away when a friend called her over. Luke’s green eyes blazed with a proud light I’d never seen there before.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I followed your advice and struck a deal with Amos, the owner of the bar. Wilder is now their craft whiskey, and we worked together to come up with a signature cocktail. I want you to taste it.”

  When he held the glass out to me again, I took it and sipped slowly, then held my hand to my lips. It was beyond delicious—sweet and mild in all the best ways, but also dark and smoky without being too heavy. There was a hint of fruit and a splash of something that coated the back of my throat with a slow, silky burn, which made me want more.

  “Oh my God,” I murmured. “Did you come up with this?”

  He nodded.

  “What’s in it?”

  “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you,” he said with a wink, and I rolled my eyes. “But it’s sort of like a blackberry old-fashioned. A mix of something new and slick, and something classic and traditional.”

  When he gave me a meaningful look, I took another sip, savoring the sweet burn of the whiskey. “I’ve never had anything better.”

  For once, I wasn’t sure if I was still talking about the whiskey or if it was something more, if it was all about this week here with him and these people who surrounded me. The people who cared so deeply about the Wilders that they’d gathered for a person they barely knew, just because it meant something to their neighbor.

  There was a lot to be said about small towns, and that was one of them. Maybe Luke was constantly being set up with women. Maybe everyone knew everyone else’s business. But they were there for each other. If something happened or someone did something special, there was never a lack of people there who wanted to help or to celebrate.

  I thought of my phone that had only rung once more in the past couple of days, and even that call had been from a doctor I didn’t know. Melancholy swept through me at that depressing thought.

  Luke nodded toward my glass. “We’re calling the drink a Little Wilder.”

  I smiled at him, pushing aside my sadness. This was an amazing day for him, and I couldn’t be happier to be part of it. “Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  I took another swig and then passed the glass for him to share, but he downed it in one swallow and held out his hand for me. When I took it, he dragged me onto the dance floor just as the music slowed and began a deep, slow lullaby.

  Being in Luke’s arms, I let myself melt into him. When Wayne had stopped by the restaurant earlier, I’d been filled with such a sense of dread that I had to force my attention on my plate so Luke wouldn’t see how wrecked I was. He didn’t say a thing.

  He spun me once, twice, then pulled me close, whispering against my hair. “It’s been one hell of a week, duchess. I’ll be sorry to see you go.”

  “Then don’t.”

  I wasn’t sure what made me say it, but Luke stilled and pulled back, his hand cupped under my chin.

  “Ask me to stay,” I whispered.

  I’d never meant anything more in my life, but Luke looked at me like I’d just called him a filthy word.

  “I thought you didn’t need a man telling you what to do.”

  Confused, I stared at him, not sure what he was talking about. It took a moment for the memory to resurface, and when it did, it stung me as keenly as if he’d slapped me across the face.

  “What? You’re too proud to ask me?” I asked.

  “I shouldn’t have to. Come on, duchess, be reasonable.”

  “Be reasonable?” I blinked, suddenly aware that the burn in the back of my throat wasn’t whiskey anymore, but the first sign of a wave of tears.

  “I’m not asking you to stay. You should stay only if you want to.”

  He said it so matter-of-factly that I blinked again, waiting for the rest of his explanation, but it didn’t come. Instead, he just stared at me.

  Stunned, I nodded slowly. “Roger that.”

  I stepped away from him and slipped away through the crowd, glancing briefly toward Duke and Molly to make sure they were too preoccupied to notice when I slipped out the door and into the evening air.

  So Luke didn’t want me to stay? Fine. That was perfect. Or maybe he was just too stubborn to ask me. Either way, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to uproot my whole life for a man who couldn’t mutter a few simple words. I deserved more than that.

  Lightning cracked, followed by a slow rumble of thunder, and I lifted my face to the rain in hopes that it would hide my tears.

  I’d stupidly put myself on the line and been shot down. Swallowing a sob, I glanced back at the bar before I broke into a jog, thankful I’d worn my flats.

  Come tomorrow afternoon, I’d be long, long gone.

  And apparently? That was the way Luke wanted it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Luke

  When I got home a little while later, the house was dark and empty, filled with nothing but the sound of rain tapping against the windowsill and the occasional rumble of thunder tearing through the hot Texas night.

  To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I’d expected. Maybe that Charlotte had waited for me the entire hour since she’d left, a reading light perched over her head in my living room as she pretended to read but stared at the front door.

  I laughed at myself for even thinking such a stupid thought. Of course, she hadn’t done that. A girl like Charlotte wasn’t the type to sit around and wait for a guy, even if I’d asked her to.

  She was like Sarah—she’d take action, do what she needed to in order to survive.

  And this time? Apparently, that meant packing up her shit and getting the hell out of my house before I could even walk through the door to try to stop her. Which, of course, I also couldn’t blame her for.

  Fuck, I would have gotten the hell out of Dodge if I were her too. But, damn it, why did I always have to be the one to beg? Why couldn’t she stay just because she wanted to?

  With a deep breath, I made for the small makeshift bar in the corner of the living room. There I grabbed the newest bottle of whiskey and poured myself a glass.

  It had been raining the night Sarah left too, though that had been a flash of summer rain. Tonight was different. It was wild and torrential, fat droplets spattering the dusty ground and turning it into a mud slick.

  Had it rained the morning our mother had left?

  It felt like it was possible.

  I swigged my whiskey, then thought again of the look on Charlotte’s face when she’d tasted the drink I’d concocted. It was like she’d lit up, so bright and animated. When was the last time I’d seen a face like that—of someone who believed in me so much? Someone who wasn’t Duke or Molly?

  That certainly hadn’t been Sarah’s expression when I’d told her about going back to the distillery.

  �
�Your father? What the hell has he ever done for you? You need to stop worrying about all that and focus on us.”

  Sarah had believed in her dream, but not mine. And in the end, wasn’t that what had made her go? And with Mom, wasn’t it her not believing in Dad that had made her leave?

  Logically, their choices had nothing to do with me or my dad. But how it felt . . .

  How it felt had nothing to do with logic.

  I took another pull from my glass and sat it on a stool before closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. Again, with my eyes closed to the world, I saw nothing but Charlotte beaming back at me, holding the drink she’d been the inspiration for, even if she didn’t know it.

  Could I really throw all that away? Could I let her get into her car tomorrow and drive out of my life forever without even telling her how I felt?

  I took another sip and shook my head as I was surrounded by sudden and complete darkness. A flash of light filled the air as lightning cracked again, followed quickly by a slap of thunder.

  “Damn power outage,” I mumbled, but then I thought of Charlotte alone in her room at the inn, probably sitting in darkness without any candles.

  I ought to go check on her.

  I wouldn’t ask her to stay. How could I? Even though she believed in me and I cared for her, I’d only known her for a week. But I could tell her how much I wished it could be different. And I could tell her how much I’d enjoyed her company. And then maybe she’d decide she wanted to stay.

  What I knew for sure was that I couldn’t let things end like this.

  Grabbing a few of the emergency candles I kept in my foyer closet, I headed for the truck and made quick work of driving through the onslaught of rain. The inn wasn’t far from my place, and before I knew it, I was parked in front of the familiar Victorian house as it was lit up by another flash of lightning.

  Quickly, I snatched up the candles and sprinted inside, stopping only to ask Opal, the innkeeper, for Charlotte’s new room number before I bounded upstairs. When I hammered on the door, I heard her squeak in surprise.

  “Charlotte? It’s me. Can I come in?”

  “No,” she murmured, her voice sounding husky and quiet.

  “Come on. It has to be dark in there, and I brought candles. Just let me know you’re okay.”

  The door swung open and Charlotte’s face appeared, lit by the soft glow of a candle she held below her face. “Opal gave me one when the power went out. Honestly, how helpless do you think I am?”

  I opened my mouth and then closed it.

  “Look,” Charlotte blurted, “you made yourself perfectly clear. You don’t want me to stay and that’s okay, but I don’t really want to beat this to death, you know? I feel kind of stupid for even mentioning it, and—”

  “Don’t. Please don’t feel stupid. I had an amazing time with you. It’s just—”

  I craned my neck, acutely aware that Opal hadn’t made a peep in all the time we’d been talking, but was clearly able to hear us from down the hall. I’d bet money she was poised at the foot of the stairs, listening.

  “Can you let me in so we can talk privately?”

  Charlotte blew out a breath and stepped aside to allow me in. By the light of her candle, I could see that her eyes were gleaming with tears, and I felt like a total shit.

  I paced the floor, then put the candles on the dresser before turning to face her. “Look, I’m not going to ask you to stay. I made that mistake before and it didn’t work out so well for me, but it also could’ve worked out way worse. Even if it had been okay with you and me at first, eventually you would’ve wound up resenting me, and we’d have ended up hating each other.”

  “So now I’m Sarah?” Charlotte’s voice raised an octave, and I cringed.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just . . . I’ve only known you a week, and we both know you don’t belong here.” I hated even thinking it, but saying it out loud, I knew it was true.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

  “It’s not an insult.” I held up my hands. “You’re beautiful and cultured, and yes, you may think you want to stay here with a guy that you’ve only known for a week. But when time goes on and you realize that you’re sick of fried chicken and you can’t stand that there’s not a decent theater or shopping mall anywhere nearby? Shady Grove isn’t going to be enough for you.”

  “That’s not true.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t know that. You don’t know me if you think that’s all I care about.”

  “Maybe I don’t. But don’t you think that could be a problem too?”

  She sucked in a deep breath and stared at me. Even in the candlelight, I could see the tears slipping from her eyes, finally breaking free. My heart gave a squeeze, and I resisted the urge to yank her close to me and take it all back.

  “You’re right, okay? Is that what you want me to say? Wanting to stay here is a pipe dream.” She took a step closer to me, her bottom lip trembling. “It was just so good between us, Luke. What if we never find that again with anyone else?”

  The very thought of her with anyone else made my gut tense. The thought of her in another man’s arms made me want to hit something.

  Don’t think about it, man.

  “So I can’t stay,” she added. “But does that mean we have to spend this last night apart?”

  Jesus. Even after I’d hurt her, she wanted to be with me one last time, and it was what I wanted more than anything too. To hold her in my arms and take her, to claim her as my own. We would fit together so perfectly—like two missing puzzle pieces—and I would feel even worse when I had to watch her drive away from me in the morning.

  But if I said no to her again? I knew I’d regret it for the rest of my life. And I had enough regrets.

  I walked toward her and tucked my hand under her chin, pulling her lips to mine until I could taste the minty-sweet toothpaste on her tongue and the oaky, rich flavor of honeyed whiskey on her breath. The perfect combination. The perfect girl.

  Before I knew it, we were falling backward onto the bed until she let out a soft sigh and connected with the mattress.

  “Luke.”

  When she breathed my name, I kissed her again, tucking her hair behind her ear as my tongue searched deeper inside her mouth, pulling her toward me, claiming her with my lips.

  “Come home with me,” I whispered, and she nodded, her head tucked under my chin.

  A few minutes later, we ran for the truck, rain pelting us sideways as she left without taking a thing. Once we were back at my place, I led her to my bedroom, each of us carrying a lit candle to guide our path.

  Stripping down to my boxers, I watched as Charlotte shed her wet clothes. After dressing her in one of my T-shirts, I led her to my bed.

  I kissed her lips softly in a moment so sweet and perfect, it almost didn’t seem real. It felt like something out of one of those cheesy Nicholas Sparks movies that Molly liked. The raindrops pelting the windows, the sound of Charlotte’s shallow breaths, the way her lips met mine . . . I wasn’t a romantic, but the knot in my throat and the ache in my chest felt very real.

  I wouldn’t make love to her tonight. I knew if I claimed her again, I’d never let go.

  Come morning, it would be agony to watch her leave, but at least I’d still have my pride. I wouldn’t have begged or pleaded. She wouldn’t wake up and hate me one day for asking. And I’d be able to go on knowing we’d both been happy for a time, which was all we’d ever wanted from the arrangement.

  I didn’t tell her that, though. Instead, I pulled away from the kiss despite everything inside me urging me on, and held her tight.

  “You okay?” I whispered.

  “I am now.”

  We curled together in the darkness, sharing pieces of our pasts. Charlotte spoke again about her overbearing parents and wanting to make a decision that was just hers, while I shared my dreams of makin
g my whiskey a household name. I told her stories of my mom and dad, and growing up in a small town. She talked about the lingering ideas she still had for the distillery, promising to call if she came up with any more, but I secretly hoped she wouldn’t.

  Because if I heard her voice again?

  I’d crack faster than a priest at a Vegas strip club.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Luke

  I rose from bed early the next morning, unable to sleep with the knowledge that today was the day. Creeping into the bathroom while Charlotte slept, I turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm.

  As I soaped up, I reflected on everything that had happened. This past week had been one of the best of my life. I didn’t know it, but before Charlotte arrived, I’d been living in a fog. I’d wake up early, work all day, stress the fuck out over the distillery turning a profit one of these days, then fall into bed exhausted. But ever since she showed up here, my miserable little routine had been interrupted in the best way imaginable.

  Watching Charlotte blossom and grow during her stay here had been something, and I wanted to believe that I’d had a hand in that. Gone was the uptight, spoiled rich girl who expected everything to be done at the snap of her fingers. In her place was a beautiful, confident woman who was learning to roll with the punches and make lemon drops from lemons.

  After rinsing off, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist. Swiping at the fog in the mirror, I scowled at the reflection staring back at me.

  What the fuck am I supposed to do?

  Running a hand across my jaw, I decided that forgoing shaving today wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Charlotte liked my scruff. The thought made me crack a smile.

  But then it hit me again that she wouldn’t be here later to stroke her fingers along my jaw and tell me that she loved me like this. That thought stung.

  Padding back into my bedroom wearing just a towel, I grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, dressing quietly before Charlotte woke.

  Curled onto her side with a spray of dark hair spread across the pillow, she looked so soft and sweet in her sleep. Smirking, I realized that the woman was anything but soft. Awake, she was a feisty firecracker who never hesitated to put me in my place.