Turn and Burn

by Lorelei James

  “I could blame it on a lot of things, sugar twang, but never on that. Good night.”

  “Tanna?” someone said behind her and she jumped, immediately ending the flashback.

  She whirled around and smiled at Vivien. “Sorry. I’m spacey today.”

  “No worries. Just so you know, we were serious about meeting up with you for a drink or ten at Buckeye Joe’s.”

  “But there are stipulations,” Tilda said, peering around Vivien’s shoulder.

  “Like what?”

  “Like nothing,” Miz Maybelle said, giving Tilda the stink eye. “If you show up, we’ll initiate you.”

  Tanna looked from face to face, each staring at her earnestly and she realized they weren’t joking. “If I show up?”

  “Hard to believe that not everyone wants to hang out with us, ain’t it?” Pearl said with a sigh. “We do scare people off.”

  “Well, ladies, I’m from Texas. I’m made of much sterner stuff than that. Maybe y’all will learn some new tricks from me.”

  “I like her already,” Garnet said. “But I gotta be honest, if we’re teaching this young pup new tricks, I’ll need a few hours’ beauty sleep.”

  Tanna was starting to feel like a regular at the Buckeye, given she’d been in four times in two weeks. But since this was the only bar in town, chances were high everyone felt that way. And she’d always considered her hometown small.

  After they’d gotten settled and ordered drinks, Tanna said, “If I buy the first round of shots, I’ve got everyone’s promise you’ll knock it back no matter what?”

  Miz Maybelle leaned forward, her eyes a steely blue behind her thick glasses. “Bring it on, Texas.”

  Tanna’s gaze moved from Miz Maybelle, to Tilda, to Garnet, to Pearl, to Vivien, to Bernice. “All right. Clear the table, I’ll be back.”

  Sherry Gilchrist grinned at Tanna as she walked up to the bar. “They’ve already got you playing fetch and carry for them?”

  “No. This round is on me. So I’ll need seven shots of tequila.”

  “Coming right up.” Sherry set seven shot glasses on a tray and filled each one without spilling a drop. “Anything else?”

  “A bottle of Tabasco sauce.”

  “Tanna, darlin’, you sure you wanna taunt them with this?”

  “Yep.” She couldn’t admit the Mud Lilies had been taunting her. She shook the hot sauce until a layer of reddish-orange formed on the top of each glass. She handed the bottle back to Sherry and dug in her jeans pocket for some cash. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Nothin’.”

  Tanna leaned forward. “Bull. I already got my free drink from you last week.”

  “Don’t get your back up. These shots aren’t on the house. But they are paid for and that’s all I’m allowed to say.” She smiled. “Enjoy.”

  She carried the tray to the table. The ladies looked at the shots, each other, then at Tanna. Pearl said, “What is this?”

  “A Texas prairie fire.” After everyone had a shot glass, Tanna raised hers for a toast. “God bless my home state of Texas.” She downed the breath-stealing shot quickly. Her eyes watered. Her throat closed up. Her nasal passages protested. She sniffed with gusto and said, “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  When she glanced around the group, she saw empty shot glasses. None of them reached for an icy cold beer to stop the fire trail to the stomach. And how in the hell had they finished the shots faster than she had? She must’ve worn a confused look because Vivien offered her a grandmotherly pat on the arm.

  “That was really a sweet toast, Tanna dear. Thank you.”

  Sweet? “But . . .”

  “Not the reaction you expected?” Miz Maybelle asked.

  “No! My mouth is still burning. Isn’t yours?”

  Six heads shook in unison.

  “If that’s how she reacts . . . maybe we oughtn’t give her the Wyoming version of that drink,” Garnet said.

  “Wait. You’ve had this shot before?”

  “Yep. Didn’t do much for us so we tweaked it a bit.”

  “How?” Tanna demanded.

  Bernice grinned. “You want us to tell you? Or are you game to try one?”

  A challenge? Bring it. “Let’s see whatcha got.”

  Pearl clapped her hands with glee, grabbed the tray and headed to the bar.

  When Tanna looked over, Sherry gave her a you’re in for it now headshake.

  They had to be bluffing.

  Tanna believed that when Pearl delivered the shots. She even believed it during the “to Wyoming, the equality state” toast. But the instant that sweet, hot and blistering heat singed the lining of her throat, caused her lungs to seize up, and every hair on her body to stand on end, she wanted to cry uncle, swear she’d never doubt them again just to make it stop.

  Bernice whacked her on the back with a sharp, “Breathe.”

  She sputtered. Coughed. Sucked in great gulps of air. Luckily she didn’t throw up. God. She’d never live that down. After she wiped her streaming eyes, she glanced at the faces peering back at her. Not a single one of them had even broken a sweat.

  “Oh. My. Lord. Are y’all fixin’ to kill me?”

  Laughter.

  “What was that evil concoction?”

  “It’s called a Wyoming wildfire. Everclear, cinnamon schnapps, topped with habanero hot sauce.”

  Tanna drained half her beer in an attempt to vanquish the fire. Then she choked out, “Where’d you get the habanero sauce?”

  Pearl pulled a bottle out of her purse. “Always carry some with me. Most food is so bland.”

  Unreal.

  “Who’s up for a pink panty dropper shot?” Garnet asked.

  “Not me. I need to—”

  “Grow some balls?” Tilda intoned sweetly.

  What the hell?

  “It’ll take at least two more shots for you to live up to that Texas wild woman reputation we’ve heard about,” Bernice warned.

  Hey. Was the senior set looking at her with pity? Screw that. “Fine. A panty dropper and a . . . ?”

  “Zombie killer,” they said in unison.

  Jesus. “Do I even want to know what’s in it?”

  “Nope. But I suggest you limit yourself to one.”

  Two shots later, Tanna decided she was done drinking for the night. She switched to Coke, but drank out of a lowball glass so the Mud Lilies didn’t know she’d quit drinking and wouldn’t accuse her of being a Texas marshmallow.

  Tanna had passed some kind of test and the ladies embraced her like a long lost granddaughter. She hadn’t felt this much warmth and personal connection for longer than she cared to think about. She laughed. Listened to outrageous stories that had to be true.

  Then the guys showed up, much to the ladies’ delight. It was sweet and amusing how these women had wrapped the young, strapping cowboys around their fingers. Tobin, Hugh, Ike, Max and Holt served as guardians and dance partners.

  She felt a pang of disappointment Fletch wasn’t with them. And she had too much pride to ask his friends whether he planned to join them later.

  At first her misgivings about getting involved with Fletch had been based on her temporary resident status in Wyoming. But now, knowing the doc’s brutal work schedule, getting involved with him would likely be a recipe for loneliness.

  Tobin caught her eye. “Everything all right?”

  “It will be when you dance with me.”

  He grinned. Lord. Why couldn’t she fall for a sweetie pie like him? Tobin was good-looking. Built. Smart. Eager. She could totally train him to be the kind of man she wanted in bed.

  But Fletch already is the type of man you need. Experienced. Bossy. Playful. Intense.

  “Tanna?” Tobin said softly.

  Her focus shifted back to him. “Sorry. I think that zombie killer drink ate part of my brain.”

  “Probably.” Tobin held out his hand, helping her to her feet. “Word of advice. Run if them gals mention pixie dust d
rinks. Sounds like an innocent girlie concoction, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Wrong.” He led her onto the dance floor. “Let’s just say I still have no recollection of the deputy sheriff hauling my ass home or why I thought it’d be a good idea to sleep bare-nekkid in a lounge chair on my deck.”

  Tanna couldn’t help but laugh.

  “So now that you’re in a good mood, can I ask when you’re gonna go out with me?”

  “I’m dancing with you, aren’t I?”

  “That doesn’t count.”

  “I’m older than you.”

  He winked. “Just means you’ll be impressed by my youthful stamina.”

  “True. But it’s also true that I’ve got a lot of baggage.”

  “Isn’t it ironic I used to be a baggage handler at the Split Rock?”

  She smiled at him, completely charmed. Too bad she’d met another too-charming guy first.

  And Tanna’s feet missed a step when she saw him walk in the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  One benefit of hanging with the Mud Lilies? No one approached him for animal care advice because most people in town were scared of them.

  In the last half hour Fletch had kicked back and caught up with the women who absolutely cracked his ass up. They’d thanked him for introducing Cora to their group, but Garnet and Vivien purposely distracted him when he’d asked Cora’s whereabouts on a Saturday night.

  Weird.

  The group had split up, leaving him and Miz Maybelle alone. He didn’t want to know what the ladies were up to anyway. So he watched Tanna discreetly.

  “I’m pretty sure that your hot stare alone isn’t enough to burn her clothes off,” Miz Maybelle said.

  Or maybe his staring hadn’t been so discreet. Fletch blushed and ripped his gaze away from Tanna shaking her groove thang as she exited the dance floor. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Yes. But don’t think for a second that she’s oblivious to how close you’re paying attention to her. My question is why are you over here, instead of over there?”

  “The path across the bar leads both ways. Why isn’t she over here?”

  Miz Maybelle shook her finger at him. “What is it with you young people today and your need to play games?”

  Oh boy. Lecture mode. Best if he kept his mouth shut.

  “Tanna wants to be dancing with you, but instead of asking you to dance, she’s cutting a rug with everyone but you. Showing you what you’re missing.”

  Little did she know—Fletch was perfectly aware of how well Tanna moved that lean muscular body in tight quarters.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Miz Maybelle demanded.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Why haven’t you asked her to dance yet?” She paused, giving him ample time to answer. When he didn’t, she tossed off, “As I live and breathe, I think the big, tough doctor . . . is just plain chicken.”

  His mouth dropped open. “I am not.”

  She clucked.

  The woman actually clucked at him.

  “Real nice, Miz Maybelle.”

  She shrugged. “So, you want a side of coleslaw with your chicken?”

  Fletch took another sip of beer, refusing to be goaded.

  “I don’t mind telling you, Dr. Fletcher, that I’ve been drinking a wee bit, as our Tilda would say.”

  “No. Really?”

  She whapped him on the shoulder. “Such a smart mouth. I know you didn’t get that from your charming father.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Hey. Wait. How did Miz Maybelle know his dad?

  “But I share my best advice after I’ve tipped back a few.”

  “What makes you think I need advice?”

  “Because you’re moping with an old fart like me instead of playing slap and tickle with Miss Tex-ass, as Devin calls her. That name suits her. She’s got those womanly curves and that wild streak men go gaga over. I bet Devin wouldn’t put up with her being passed from guy to guy on the dance floor while he sat back here with his di—”

  “Don’t say it.” There was an image he didn’t need from this sweet-tongued woman. “Fine. I get it. I’m going.”

  Miz Maybelle shouted, “You’re welcome,” as he passed a table of giggling coeds.

  Fletch kept his eye on Tanna as he wove through people heading toward the bar. One of the advantages of his height and his size: people tried to avoid him. The group Tanna was chatting with gave him a wide berth.

  Tanna allowed a tight smile. “Fletch. I’m surprised to see you here—”

  “No, you’re not. Been here half an hour, as you’re fully aware.” He grabbed her hand and said, “Excuse us,” with a smile before he towed her to the farthest edge of the dance floor.

  “What are you doin’?”

  “Taking my turn to dance with you.” Fletch brought her against his body and began rocking them to the beat.

  “You could’ve asked.”

  He put his lips on her ear. “Sugar twang, will you dance with me? Pretty, pretty please? With a chocolate-covered cherry on top?”

  Tanna shivered. “No fair. You know what it does to me when you whisper in my ear.”

  “Really? I forgot that. Maybe I need a refresher course in what makes you putty in my hands.” He let his hand drift from the small of her back down to her butt. “And you fit very well in my hands, don’t you?”

  “You’re in rare form tonight.”

  “Oh, it doesn’t have to be that way. I can be this way with you every night.”

  “You trying to seduce me?”

  “I’m trying to charm the pants off of you. Then I’m hoping the rest of your clothing follows suit and hits the floor in my bedroom. Or my truck. Or hell, even the bathroom.”

  She laughed softly. “Then what?”

  Fletch traced the shell of her ear with his tongue. “Then I give you a refresher course on just what I can do with my mouth and hands. I recall you liked the way I use my tongue.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She turned her head and nipped the side of his jaw. “I really liked the way you used your cock too.”

  There she was. The sassy-mouthed sexpot he’d first met. Thank God. “Funny thing. My cock was just thinking about how much it liked you.” He pressed his groin into hers. “How much it missed you.”

  “I had a sneaking suspicion it was happy to see me.”

  He leaned back and looked into her face. “How long you gonna hold me off? And why do you want to? We were good together, Tanna. Damn good.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why are you fighting this?”

  She held his gaze for ten seconds and then it dropped to his chin. “Because it wouldn’t be a one-nighter. We both know if I went home with you tonight it wouldn’t be the last time—it’d be the start, since we couldn’t stop ourselves because the sex is so spectacular.”

  “Why would we have to stop?”

  “Because you’ll want more from me. And I can’t give it to you. Then you’ll get resentful and pissy about it and take it out on me, even when I warned you ahead of time that’s how it’d be.”

  That was a harsh assessment. But she wasn’t too far off base. He’d