by Katie Lane
He watched as Emma continued to get things ready. When the lasagna and salad were on the table and a bottle of wine had been opened, she disappeared from the dining room. No doubt to answer the door.
“Jolene,” Boone said. “That’s my final answer.” But when Emma returned to the dining room, it wasn’t Jolene who followed her.
It was Marty Rucker.
Chapter Five
Emma should’ve stuck with her original plan to ask Marty for lunch. Once he was standing in her dining room, dinner seemed much too intimate a meal to share with someone you rarely spoke to. The last time had been two months ago when he’d come into the store to order new sprayers for the barbershop shampoo bowls. Even then, he’d talked more to Boone about his band than he had to her. But if she wanted to find out if they were compatible, a quiet dinner was the way to do it. Even if she hadn’t exactly told him they were having dinner.
Marty stared down at her grandmother’s china in confusion. “Oh. I didn’t know we were eating.”
“I thought we’d eat while we discussed the last town council meeting,” she said. “Like I said on the phone, I want to get your thoughts on the ideas being tossed around for revitalizing Main Street.” It was a flimsy excuse for asking him over and she knew it. But she hadn’t been able to come up with anything better.
He shrugged. “That’s good with me, dude.” Marty called everyone dude—male or female. It had been acceptable in high school. Now, it just seemed a little weird.
She forced a smile. “Please sit down and make yourself at home while I finish up dinner.”
The lasagna looked delicious and she felt quite proud when she pulled it out of the oven. It was DeeDee Murphy’s recipe. Emma’s mother never made lasagna. It took too long. Emma carried the casserole dish into the dining room and found Marty drumming on the edge of the table with his fingers. He stopped when she set the lasagna on a hot plate.
“I hope you like pasta,” she said as she removed the oven mitts and took a chair.
He hesitated. “I love pasta, but I’m lactose intolerant.”
Emma stared at the mozzarella oozing over the edges of the casserole dish. “Oh.”
“It’s okay, dude,” Marty said. “I’ll just scrape the cheese off.”
Since the casserole dish was filled with ricotta, Parmesan, and two layers of mozzarella, that proved to be quite the task. When he was finished, he had a pile of cheese on one side of his plate and two limp lasagna noodles covered in tomato sauce on the other. Which made Emma feel so guilty she just put salad on her plate . . . and poured herself a big glass of merlot. She sipped the wine and watched as Marty cut his lasagna noodles.
He usually wore his long hair in a ponytail, but tonight he had left it down. He’d always had nice, thick hair. Although, in high school, it had been much darker. The streaks of blond looked a little too precise. She figured he’d highlighted it. If he had, he’d done a good job. Maybe she’d start going to him for her highlights.
He glanced up and caught her staring and she quickly looked away and started a conversation. “So what did you think of the ideas people came up with for revitalizing the town?”
He shrugged. “I thought some of them were okay, but others sucked. Like Sheriff Dixie Leigh’s totally ridiculous idea to spruce up Main Street.” He helped himself to the salad, taking the rest of it from the bowl. She couldn’t blame him when he only had limp noodles to eat. But she could blame him for thinking Dixie Leigh’s idea was ridiculous. Dixie was one of the members of the Simple Book Club and Emma’s friend. Ever since Dixie moved to Simple, she’d been trying to improve its economy so it wouldn’t become a ghost town like a lot of other small towns.
“I don’t think freshening up our signs and store fronts is a bad idea,” Emma said. “With Dixon’s Boardinghouse becoming more popular, we’ve gotten a lot more tourists. We want to draw those tourists into our stores.”
Marty laughed. She’d forgotten what a high-pitched laugh he had. It grated on her nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. “And you think those tourists are going to be getting haircuts and buying hardware?”
He had a good point. “Well, no, but I think we all want a town to be proud of. And it’s not going to cost that much to paint a new sign or get matching awnings.”
“You sound like my brother. He wants to buy the empty space next to ours and enlarge the barbershop.”
Emma stiffened. “Your family is buying the building between us?” That was the same space she wanted to enlarge the hardware store. Of course, now she might not even end up with a hardware store to enlarge.
“Not if I have anything to say about it. I’m not chipping in on extra space for the barbershop. I’d rather spend any extra money I earn on my band.” He held up his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “We’re this close to making it big. Once we get a record deal, I’m out of here.”
“You’re leaving?” Emma set down her fork and stared at him. “But you grew up here. You help run your family’s business.”
“Only because my music won’t pay the bills. But it will someday. I’m with a new band and this one totally rocks. In fact, that’s our name. Totally Rock.” He drummed his fingers on the edge of the table before he leaned closer. “And don’t tell me you want to spend the rest of your life working in your father’s hardware store, dude. You must have a bigger dream than that.”
She’d had a bigger dream once. But it had just been a passing phase. Running the hardware store was her dream now. By herself. Unfortunately, Marty wasn’t going to help her achieve that dream. She continued to try to be a gracious hostess by offering him seconds on pasta and asking about his band. But by nine o’clock, she’d had all she could take of his table drumming and “dudes.”
She took her napkin off her lap and set it on the table. “Well, it’s been a nice evening, Marty. Thanks so much for stopping by to talk about the revitalization plans.”
A smirk tipped his lips. “You didn’t invite me here to talk about the town council meeting, did you?” She jumped when his hand slid over her knee. “You want a piece of the little drummer boy, don’t you, dude?”
The little drummer boy?
“Uhh . . . no.”
He leaned closer and his hand went higher. “Sure you do.”
“No. Really, I—” Before she could finish, a loud howling cut her off.
Marty released her leg and drew back to stare at the window. “What the hell is that?”
“It’s my neighbor’s dog.” Emma had never been so happy with the annoying mutt in her life. “He’s extremely attached to me and likes to come say goodnight.” She got up. “I better go give him some attention before the neighbors call Dixie Leigh. I’m sure you can show yourself out, Marty.”
But of course, he didn’t. He followed her into the kitchen, and she was forced to act like she and Romeo were the best of friends.
“There you are, you cute little thing,” she gushed when she opened the door. The dog was so stunned by her friendly greeting he stopped howling to stare at her. He flinched when she reached down to scratch his head. “That’s my sweet baby. You want a belly rub? You want a big ol’ belly rub?”
“I wouldn’t mind one.” Boone materialized out of the darkness. She should’ve known he’d be lurking around somewhere. But tonight she was as happy to see him as she was to see his dog.
“Hey, Boone. You know Marty.”
“Hey, Marty.” Boone shook his hand. “How’s the band coming? What’s the name again? Totally Stoned?”
Emma had to bite back her laughter as Marty corrected him. “Totally Rock.”
“Oh, right. Sorry, dude.” He glanced at Emma. “I hope my ornery dog here didn’t interrupt anything.”
She stood. “No. In fact, Marty was just leaving.”
Marty didn’t take the hint. “I could hang out for a while. I could get my snare drum out of my car and play you one of my new songs.”
Just the thought of listening to a drum solo
for the next hour made her want to scream. Watching Marty drum the table in between bites had been bad enough. “That sounds wonderful, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. I have to be to work early in the morning.”
“On a Sunday?”
Before she could come up with a lie, Boone surprised her by jumping in. “Inventory. It’s better to do it when no customers are around.”
“Maybe I’ll stop by and help,” Marty said.
Emma shook her head. “Thank you, but it’s pretty boring.”
“I bet I could make it fun.” Marty winked at her. Suddenly, Romeo, who had been sitting quietly by the back door, started howling again. The racket was earsplitting, but it finally got Marty to leave.
When he was gone, Romeo stopped howling as quickly as he had started.
“You really need to train your dog,” Emma said.
Instead of answering, Boone leaned against the doorjamb. “Marty Rucker?”
“What’s wrong with Marty Rucker?”
“Nothing, if you’re into guys who live in fantasy worlds. He actually believes that hair bands are going to make a comeback and a record executive is going to make his band ‘Totally Rock’”—he made quotation marks in the air—“famous.”
“It could happen.”
“When monkeys fly. And he should call his band Totally Stoned. I’ve caught him toking behind the barbershop numerous times.”
She’d known Marty smoked weed in high school, but she thought he’d quit. “Are you sure? He was probably just smoking cigarettes.”
“I know the difference between cigarette smoke and pot. I have an extremely sensitive nose.” He tipped his head back and sniffed. “My mom’s lasagna.” He pushed away from the door and headed to the dining room like a tracking bloodhound.
She followed behind him. “You aren’t staying for lasagna.”
“Fine. I’ll take it to go.” He pulled a plate out of the china cabinet. “You owe me something for my dog rescuing you.”
“He didn’t rescue me.”
“Then why were you so happy to see him? You scared the hell out of poor Romeo. If you noticed, he wouldn’t even follow me inside. He can’t figure out why the shrew who always yells at him for peeing on her flowers suddenly wanted to scratch his belly.” He dug the spatula into the lasagna and groaned as the cheese oozed up. “Now this is what I’m talking about. Damn, would you look at that cheese?”
The sight made Emma’s stomach grumble and she swatted his arm. “Well, don’t take it all, you glutton. I want some.”
Once he’d filled his plate, she filled hers.
“You didn’t eat?” he asked.
She shook her head as she sat down. “I felt guilty because Marty is lactose intolerant and can’t have cheese.”
“Well, I can.” He took the chair across from her.
“I thought you were taking it to go.”
“I can’t wait.” He took a big bite and closed his eyes. “Sweet Lord, this is delicious. It’s almost as good as my mom’s.”
His compliment had her feeling a little less annoyed at him for barging in, and she decided to let him stay. They ate in silence, both enjoying the cheesy deliciousness. At the store, they took their lunch hours at different times so it had been a long time since they’d eaten together. It was unusual . . . and extremely comfortable.
“Remember when my mom made lasagna for Doyle Merville’s funeral and we stole the casserole dish and ate it in the back alley?” Boone asked.
She smiled at the memory. “And I threw up on the way home in the back seat of my dad’s new Lincoln. He never was able to get rid of the tomato sauce stain on the carpet or the smell of garlic. I think he knew what we’d done, but he never said a word to Mom or anyone else. That’s my dad for you.”
Boone’s smile faded. “Yeah, your dad sure knows how to keep a secret.” He pushed his plate away, even though there was still some left.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to ruin your appetite with my throw-up story.”
He rested his arms on the table and studied her. “So who else is on your list?”
“What list?”
“Don’t play dumb, Emma. You make lists for everything. You made a list of prospective fiancés and don’t try to tell me you didn’t.”
She shrugged. “Fine. I made a list.”
“And?”
“And it’s none of your business who is on it.”
He grinned. “If you tell me who’s on yours, I’ll tell you who’s on mine.”
“You don’t have a list. You don’t make lists.”
“Of course I do. I just don’t write them down.” He tapped his temple. “All my lists are right up here.”
Boone had a list? It shouldn’t surprise her. If she had a list of men, why wouldn’t he have a list of women? Still, it annoyed her . . . and made her too curious to ignore his offer. “Fine. Marty Rucker and Jeff Harding.”
Boone’s eyebrows arched. Or one eyebrow arched. The Tonka truck scar kept the other one from arching—something she felt guilty about every time he was surprised. “Jeff Harding?”
“I know that’s only two, but I thought I would start with our high school class first, and Marty and Jeff are the only two single men who graduated with us and still live in Simple. Although Marty is leaving as soon as his band makes it big so he’s crossed off the list.” Not to mention the finger drumming, duding, and pot smoking.
“You might want to cross off Jeff too. That guy isn’t right for you.”
She shook her head. “Oh no. You aren’t sabotaging my chances to win. I’m not crossing Jeff off until I’ve dated him.”
“Suit yourself, but I’m just trying to save you some time.”
“Thanks, but I’ll worry about my own time frame. Now who’s on your list?”
The women’s names he rattled off took a good five minutes, and when he was finished he sat back in his chair and smiled with satisfaction. Emma stared at him in disbelief.
“Raynelle Coffman? She’s a good twenty years older than we are.”
“So? I don’t think she should be out of the running because of her age.”
“She has a son almost our age.”
“Again, kids shouldn’t exempt a person from finding love. I’m an equal opportunity man who believes in giving everyone a chance.”
“The emphasis on everyone. How can you possible get through a list that long?”
“By not wasting time on a three-hour dinner. I plan to spend my time more productively by researching each woman individually before I move her to the next level of the pyramid. Which is exactly what you should’ve done. If you’d asked me, I would’ve told you Marty wasn’t planning on sticking around. I also can tell you something about Jeff that might quicken your process.” He leaned back in his chair and held up his hands. “But if you would rather waste your time, go right ahead.”
She blew out her breath. “Fine! What’s wrong with Jeff?”
“Nothing. He just happens to like guys better than girls.”
Emma stared at him. “Jeff’s gay?”
He shrugged. “It happens.” While Emma tried to digest the information, he got to his feet. “Well, thanks for the lasagna.”
When he was gone, Emma wasted no time clearing the table, loading the dishwasher, and heading upstairs to start another list. After hearing the names of all the women Boone was considering, she decided to quit going by age and just include every single man in Simple. Once she finished the list, she got ready for bed. She was so preoccupied with her potential husband list she didn’t realize she’d forgotten to close the blinds until she was naked and heading to her dresser to get her pajamas. She quickly ducked down and crawled over to the nightstand to turn off the light. Once it was off, she grabbed a blanket off her bed and held it around herself as she got up and walked to the window.
The lights were all out at Boone’s house, and she breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t accidentally been walking by one of his windows
and seen her naked. Not that it mattered. Boone had seen her naked before. But that was a long time ago. And best forgotten.
She closed the blinds and went to bed.
Chapter Six
Eleven Years Earlier . . .
Emma was more beautiful than anything Boone had ever seen. Her body was perfect from her high ponytail that gleamed like the gold state trophy his baseball team had just won to the tips of her toes that were painted their high school colors of Texas orange and white. He thought she would be shy about standing before him naked—he was certainly feeling shy—but she didn’t fidget or cover herself with her hands. She just stood there in the late afternoon sunlight with a slight smile on her face.
He knew she was waiting for him to make the first move, but his feet were stuck to the floor with fear. More fear than he’d experienced in his entire life. What if he screwed this up? He’d done a lot of research on the Internet, but he still wasn’t completely sure of how to make a girl reach orgasm. And he wanted to give that to Emma. Especially since this was her first time too.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this, Em,” he said. “Maybe we should wait.”
Her pretty blue eyes softened. “I think we’ve waited long enough, Boone.”
It had seemed like forever since their first make-out session in Simple Park. For over two years, Emma was the one who had kept his raging teenage hormones in check. Now that the time was finally here, he was too petrified to move. But she wasn’t. She closed the distance between them and lifted a hand to cradle his face.
“It’s okay,” she whispered before she kissed him.
At the first touch of her lips, his fear fled. Kissing Emma had always made him feel invincible. Like he could do anything he set his mind to. Right now, he set his mind to loving Emma. He pulled her into his arms and deepened the kiss. Her tongue greeted his as she looped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer.
Her boobs pressed into his chest and seemed to scorch right through his skin. He’d been hard ever since she’d taken off her bra, and he wanted to hold those boobs in a bad way. But not wanting to seem too eager, he stifled the urge and kept his hands on her waist for another long kiss before he slowly inched them up her sides.
