At five o’clock in the evening, four hours later than scheduled, Mama delivered Aubrey’s Volvo. She unceremoniously dumped the station wagon on Aubrey’s front lawn and stuck the bill in her face.
“You got cash?”
“No. I’ve got a credit card.” Aubrey turned from the door to find her purse.
“Credit card companies charge a fee.” Mama let herself in and looked around the cabin. “Nice place. A little fussy for my taste, but I could get used to it. Now that McMansion you shared with Mitch…well, that was just vulgar.”
Coming from a woman who wore grease-stained overalls and a bandanna tied around her stringy hair, Aubrey considered the source and tried not to take offense. She’d decorated that McMansion from wall to wall. At least Mama didn’t appear to be part of the Mitch cabal. No, she was rude to everyone. Aubrey’s mother liked to call her earthy. Aubrey’s take on Mama was that she was simply missing a filter. In any event, the tow-truck driver had been a staple of Dry Creek for as long as Aubrey could remember.
“Here you go.” Aubrey handed Mama her Visa.
“I’m gonna have to charge you a few extra bucks for the credit card fee.”
Aubrey wanted to argue that it was the price of doing business but decided it was more trouble than it was worth. The car had already put her in the hole. What was a few more dollars?
Mama returned to her tow truck to put the card through and Aubrey followed, hoping to hurry the transaction. She had a piece of leftover quiche in the oven.
“Stu must have it out for you real good.” Mama fumbled with the swiping machine, and Aubrey was tempted to tell her she ought to look in to Square or any other credit-card processing system invented in the twenty-first century. “In all my years, I’ve never seen him have someone towed from that market.”
“I guess I’m just special.” Aubrey flashed a cheesy grin. “You could’ve refused, you know?”
Mama pulled the bandanna off her head and wiped her neck with it. “If it wasn’t me, it would’ve been someone else.”
She had a point. Still, Mama could’ve stood on principle. “You knew Stu was being vindictive…you know what this is really about.”
Mama handed Aubrey her credit card and eyed her up and down. “You don’t look any worse for wear. As far as I’m concerned, you got the long end of the stick. Despite what everyone thinks, Mitch Reynolds is no angel. But as far as you and Jace Dalton”—she cackled—“he ain’t ever getting over that awful ex-wife of his.”
For hell’s sake, did Aubrey really have to say it again? “I didn’t leave Mitch for Jace. Jace and I aren’t together.”
“It’s no business of mine.” Mama lifted her shoulders. “And if I were you, I’d tell this whole town to stick it where the sun don’t shine.” She climbed up into her tow truck, slammed the door shut, and took off down the driveway, raising enough dust to choke a person.
Aubrey went back inside the cabin and pulled her quiche out of the oven before it burned. Instead of sitting at the table, she ate in front of the TV. Nothing on but the news. She looked outside the window for Cash’s SUV. Sometime around four, he and Ellie left, probably to get food. Aubrey would’ve fed them but didn’t want to interfere with their father-daughter time.
He’d looked good in a black felt cowboy hat and a matching T-shirt. She’d enjoyed watching him wait for Ellie by the side of his truck, his muscular arm resting on the rooftop.
She remembered his hand on her thigh when they’d driven to the ranch after getting her station wagon out of car jail. It had been big, warm, and callused, and she’d nearly agreed to his suggestion that they pull over so she could thank him properly for his help.
That certainly would’ve gone over well with the prying eyes in this town. She could hear it now: What’s with Aubrey McAllister and those Dalton men? There was no plural; there was only one Dalton who made her want to have car sex. And it wasn’t Jace.
Hmm, that gave Aubrey an idea. Something that might put an end to the rumor about her and Jace once and for all. Like Jace had said, why not give the good folks of Dry Creek something to talk about?
* * * *
At nine the next morning, Aubrey found Cash syphoning gas out of her tank into an old bucket on the ground.
“Morning.” He raised his head from what he was doing and flashed her a grin that was better than a first cup of coffee, which, to Aubrey, was pretty much the best thing in the world.
“Good morning.” She sat down on the grass next to him, watching while he worked. “Where’s Ellie?”
“The boys don’t have a babysitter today, so Sawyer took them and Ellie to the waterslides in Roseville.”
It seemed early to Aubrey, but in the summer the water park got so crowded they had to turn people away. “That was nice of him.”
“More like brave.” Cash removed the syphon tube from Aubrey’s tank and nudged his head at a gas can a few feet away. “I want to let the tank dry completely before I add the new stuff.”
“Okay.” He seemed to know what he was doing and she didn’t have a clue. “Can you tell if what you took out is contaminated?”
“It looks like water to me.” He pointed at the bucket. “See the way the gasoline floats on top? That usually happens when there’s water on the bottom.”
She stuck her face over the bucket but pulled it away when the strong odor burned her nose. “It smells like gasoline to me.”
He nodded and reminded her that water was odorless.
“How do you think the water got in there? A bad batch of gas?”
“Nope.” He held her gaze and silently conveyed what she already knew. Someone had intentionally poured the water down her tank. Perhaps it had happened while she was shopping at the Dry Creek Market or on one of her other trips to town, but the bottom line was, someone had wanted to mess up her car.
“I can’t freaking believe this.” She pressed her forehead against the Volvo’s door.
“You have any idea who could’ve done it?”
“Not a one.” She didn’t mention that Mitch had been back in town because she didn’t think he would do something like this. It wasn’t his style to lurk around, sabotaging people’s cars. He was too busy spreading rumors. Even his henchwoman Mercedes wasn’t devious enough. And Jill Tucker…what could trashing Aubrey’s car possibly accomplish?
“We need to go to Jace and report it,” Cash said.
“Uh-uh.” She shook her head, adamant. “I don’t want to get him involved. I’ve caused him enough problems.”
“You at least need to put it on the record in case something like this happens again.”
She couldn’t afford any more acts of vandalism. If Cash hadn’t volunteered to make the repairs, she would’ve had to dig even deeper into her savings.
“I’ll just be more alert in the future,” she said so as not to pull Jace into the drama. He had more at stake than she did. Not only did he need his job to support his family, he loved being sheriff. “I don’t want people to think Jace is giving me special treatment.”
Cash folded his arms over his chest, and she couldn’t help noticing how his T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, and the way his biceps bulged.
“You’re the victim of a crime and Jace is the sheriff,” he said. “I don’t see how reporting the incident gives you special treatment. It would be the same for anyone else in Dry Creek.”
“Okay, I’ll think about it.” She pretended to acquiesce because she knew Cash wasn’t going to quit until she agreed to go to the police. Aubrey turned her attention to the car. “How long do we wait for the tank to dry? I’d like to see if the car actually drives.”
He rubbed the scruff on his chin. “An hour should do it. In the meantime, why don’t you buy me a cup of coffee?” Cash hitched his head at her cabin.
“Welcome to Chez Aubrey.” She swung her arm wide, gesturing for him to follow her up the porch stairs.
Aubrey headed straight for the kitchen and put on a fresh pot in her fancy grind-and-brew coffee maker, one of the things she’d managed to lift from Mitch’s on her way out. And why not? She’d paid for the darn thing.
Cash came up next to her and washed his hands in the sink. She used to yell at Mitch that tending to basic hygiene should be done in a bathroom, not a kitchen. But as far as she was concerned, Cash Dalton could wash his hands anywhere he wanted to. He’d been her guardian angel these last two weeks while dealing with his own convoluted life.
“How’s Ellie? Did she enjoy her ride?”
“Yeah.” He dried his hands on a dish towel and cocked his hip against the counter. “We talked a little bit more about her mom and me. Not sure that went over too well. It’s hard to tell what’s going on in that small head of hers. One minute she seems receptive to making this work, the next, she’s begging me to send her back to Boston.”
“It’s a lot of change at once. Give her time.”
“That’s what everyone says.” He gazed out the window at the creek. “We’ll see how it goes. My parents are coming this weekend. I’m hoping that’ll help the situation. They’re good people and are thrilled about having a granddaughter.” He laughed. “I’m pretty sure they never thought it would happen.”
“Are you an only child?”
“Yep.” He turned and glanced at the coffee maker. “Is that done yet?”
The machine was still gurgling, but Aubrey pulled the pot away and stuck a mug in its place. She pulled out a carton of low-fat milk. “Sorry I don’t have half-and-half.”
“I take it black.” He peered over her shoulder into her nearly empty refrigerator. “You got anything to eat in there?”
“Eggs, cottage cheese, and a couple of yogurts. I could make you a scramble and some toast.”
“Sounds good.”
He moved past her, unintentionally—at least she thought it was unintentional—brushing against her backside, and her body instantly reacted. Since finding Mitch with Jill, she’d expected to lose her sex drive. At least for a while. But with Cash, she seemed to be in a constant state of arousal.
To get her mind off the sensation of his groin pressing against her, she handed him the cup of coffee and started on the eggs. He made things easier by taking his mug to the table. That little bit of distance forced her to concentrate on cooking.
“Speaking of weekends, what are you doing next Saturday?”
“Nothing, as far as I know. Why?” His big hands clasped her good-sized mug, making it look like a demitasse cup.
“Brett Tucker is throwing a surprise birthday party for his wife, Jill, and I was hoping you and Ellie could be my plus two.” She paused for a second. “I thought if we acted like we were sort of dating, I could lay these rumors about Jace and me to rest. I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would be…you know, weird for you and Ellie.”
He took a long sip of his coffee, watching her over the rim of the cup. “What exactly is ‘sort of dating’?” He was being sarcastic.
“You know what I mean.” She put her hands on her hips. “We don’t have to be in everyone’s face about it, which would probably look like we were putting on an act anyway. Just subtle stuff.”
He arched a dark brow, his blue eyes dancing with laughter. “Subtle? What do you mean by ‘subtle’?”
She could feel her face heat. “I don’t know, maybe we kiss or something.”
“Kiss, huh?” His lips quirked. He was enjoying this way too much.
But if she didn’t think it could work, she wouldn’t have asked him for the sacrifice. “You don’t have to stick your tongue down my throat. Just a peck on the lips, and you could also put your hand at the small of my back…uh, to make it look authentic.”
“Sounds like a lot to memorize.”
She balled up a napkin and beaned him with it, then went back to finishing his scramble before he teased her anymore. “Well, are you in or not?”
“Sure…if you think it’ll work.” He said it as if he had his doubts. “What are you putting in those eggs.”
“Cottage cheese. It’ll make them fluffy.” She turned around to find him standing there. The man moved like a ghost. “What?”
“Just wanted to see what you were doing.” He held up his mug. “And get a refill.” But he made no move to pour himself another cup. In fact, he put the mug down on the counter while he watched her pour the egg batter into a hot frying pan.
She reached over for a wooden spoon, and he caged her in with both hands. “Want to practice for the party?” Before she could answer, he crushed his mouth against hers.
“Like this?” he whispered against her lips, and wrapped his hands around the lower part of her back. “Or this?” He pressed against the vee in her legs and took the kiss deeper.
“Your eggs will burn,” she said but didn’t stop, twining her arms around his neck.
“I just want to make sure we get it right. One wrong move and the jig is up, right?”
“Exactly,” she murmured, no longer able to hold a coherent thought. He was doing something with his hips that was driving her crazy. Aubrey reached behind her and turned off the stove.
He maneuvered her out of the kitchen, walking her backward.
“Where we going?”
“Bedroom.”
She didn’t know if she’d make the nine or ten feet down the hallway, but there were an awful lot of windows in the rest of the cabin.
“Ellie won’t be home for a few hours,” he said. “And you know what they say: Practice makes perfect.”
“Mm-hmm.” She slipped her hands under his shirt, dying to touch real skin. He shuddered in a breath, and she proceeded to explore, running her hands over his six-pack. Not once had she seen Cash in gym clothes. Either he had amazing genes or he worked out in the dark. Either way, the man’s body was in tip-top shape.
When they got to the bedroom, he pushed her down on the bed and fell gently on top of her. His weight, pressing her into the mattress, made her moan. He kissed the side of her neck and throat, his hands roaming over the thin fabric of her camisole, touching her breasts. She wriggled out from under him, sat up, and pulled her top over her head, leaving her in nothing but a white bralette.
Cash hummed his appreciation, running his finger over the space where the lace met her breasts. “Is this for practice, or do you always wear stuff like this?” His eyes traveled over the lingerie, then stopped short where a good amount of her cleavage showed.
“Depends on the day,” she said, rucking up his T-shirt for a sight of all those bunched muscles and tan skin. “Thursdays are white lacy bra day, Fridays are black, Saturdays are red.” The truth: She was lucky to find something clean, let alone sexy.
“Black and red, huh? Let’s practice tomorrow, and Saturday too.”
“What do you have on?” She tugged at the waistband of his jeans and peeked down his pants.
He laughed. “Nothing that exciting.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She fumbled with his buckle—damn Western belts—and when she couldn’t get it undone, he performed the task for her.
Her fingers shook ever so slightly as he watched her unbutton his fly. When they were all undone, she spread the pants apart to find a significant bulge encased in black cotton. Boxer briefs. She liked. But she was pretty sure she was going to like what was inside of them even better.
He lifted his butt and pulled off his pants, belt and all, and dropped them on the floor. Aubrey dragged his shirt over his head, finding a furred chest with a happy trail that ended at the waistband of his shorts.
“What about you?” He stuck his thumbs in the belt loops of her cutoffs. “Does the bottom match the top?”
She assumed they were talking underwear and couldn’t remember what she had on. If he was referencing something else…why yes, the bottom most certainly matched the top. “Only one way to find out.”
This time he did the honors, tossing her shorts next to his pants on the floor. She looked down at her panties. White Jockey hipsters. Not her first choice, but from the silly smile on Cash’s face, he was delighted.
“Nice.” He rimmed the edge on the elastic of one leg with his finger.
“Utilitarian,” she corrected and waggled her brows. “Sundays are thong days.”
“Honey, I don’t care if they’re big, saggy bloomers.” He cupped her crotch. “My only interest lies in what’s under them.”
She closed her eyes, luxuriating in the feel of his hand there. “Your turn, now.”
With the modesty of a stripper, he stood up, hooked his fingers in the elastic waistband of his shorts, and jerked them down, showing off an impressive erection. Ah, who was she kidding? It was more than impressive.
He moved on top of her again, letting her feel the full extent of his arousal, and she purred like a cat in heat.
“Cash?”
He went up on both elbows, dangled his head over her breasts and kissed each one. “Hmm?”
“We’re doing this, aren’t we?”
“That was my plan, unless you say otherwise.”
She raised her arms, wrapped them around his neck, and pulled him back down. “Help me get these off,” she said, trying to shimmy out of her panties.
He slid his hand underneath his hips and dragged her underwear down her legs. “What about this?” Cash pulled down the straps of her bralette.
“Go for it.”
He searched for a clasp and, when he realized there wasn’t one, brusquely tugged it over her head, then pushed up to gaze down on her. “Damn, how did I get so lucky?”
Such a simple declaration. But the appreciation and desire she saw in Cash’s blue eyes made her chest flutter and her body warm to a fever pitch.
He covered her breasts, weighing each one in the palm of his hands. She arched her back, desperate for more of him. His mouth moved over her, sucking and licking her nipples until she cried out. Then he began moving south, kissing his way down her belly to the throbbing need between her legs.
Oh boy. Aubrey nearly came off the bed. She fisted both hands in the sheets, thrashing her head from side to side.
As she intuitively knew he would, Cash Dalton could please a woman.
“You okay up there?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Oh, oh, oh” was as articulate as she could get. “Cash…I need…I need…”
“What? What do you need, Aubrey?”
The man actually wanted her to spell it out.
“I’m going to…if you don’t stop.”
“I think that’s the point, baby.” He kissed her inner thigh while his fingers took over. “Let yourself go. I’ll catch up…promise.”
His mouth was on her again, laving and licking, driving her insane. Cash reached up and fondled her breasts, using his thumbs to circle her nipples. She shouted out his name as her body began to shake and tremble and strain toward him until she went limp on the bed, blinded by pleasure.
“How was that?” he asked in a throaty whisper.
She tilted her head back on the pillow. “Need you ask?”
“Ready for more?” He hung off the bed and grabbed his pants, and Aubrey heard the tearing of paper.
Then he kissed her, slow and deep, and with one long, hard thrust was inside her.
“That’s so good,” she said as he pulled out and thrust back in.
He put one hand under her bottom so he could go deeper, pushing in and out. To keep up, she threw her legs around his hips and met him thrust for thrust. Soon, he was pounding into her, harder and faster, making the pressure build.
Holy cow, she was about to have another orgasm. That never happened to her. In fact, she was lucky if she had one.
The hot pull of Cash’s mouth on hers filled her with ecstasy. And when he slipped his other hand between her legs she reached for that final satisfaction.
“You almost there?”
“Yessssss,” she said between breaths as her body began to spasm. “Oh Cash, oh Cash.”
He took her higher and higher, grunting her name as he found his own release and collapsed on top of her. For a few seconds they stayed like that, tangled in each other’s arms.
“Am I crushing you?” He rolled them both on their sides and shielded his eyes when the sun shone in his face. In their excited state, they’d forgotten to close the blinds.
“I’m good.” And wasn’t that the understatement of the world? “Good” didn’t even begin to describe how she was feeling.
“I’ll be right back.” He climbed over her and headed for the bathroom, giving her a nice view of his ass, which she took plenty of time to admire.
She’d wanted to cuddle but now didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Wait in bed for him or be supercasual about it? Nothing about them sleeping together had felt casual, but men were different about sex, at least judging by Mitch. Aubrey didn’t want to make more of it than it was, so she gathered up her bra and camisole from the floor and slipped them on and found a fresh pair of panties in her drawer.
Cash returned as naked as when he’d left, saw her dressing, and put on his jeans.
“I guess we’re done practicing,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice—or maybe Aubrey had imagined it—and sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. “Are you still offering to make me eggs?”
Was he kidding? She’d make him a twelve-course meal. “Of course. I might even be able to scare up some bacon.”
“Yeah?” His lips curved up, and something in her chest fluttered. He tugged on his second boot, got up, walked over to her, and planted a sweet kiss on her lips. “Thank you.”
“No, no,” she said. “Thank you. I haven’t had sex like that since…uh, never.”