“So, tonight?” Sutton closed out the register, and Wyatt followed her through to her office.
She squatted in front of a safe and zippered the money into a bank bag. Her skirt billowed on the floor, making for a pretty picture. As she closed the safe door, she smiled up at him, her eyes alight with something he couldn’t define.
But, by God, he hoped he’d put that light in her eyes. Warning flares shot off. He was treading into dangerous territory. Jackson had warned him. Yet Wyatt couldn’t stop. He wanted her any way he could get her. If that was only for a little while, then he needed to make his time count.
The only problem was he was exhausted. Exhausted from a long week of work and worry. A similar strain had showed around Jackson’s eyes that evening as they’d cleaned and put away their tools. The situation with Ford had the feel of an unexploded bomb. Wyatt’s only hope was that it was a dud, and things would settle down soon.
She rose, her smile morphing into thoughtfulness. “You’re tired.”
He let go of his mask. “Exhausted. You must think I’m all talk and no action.”
She turned away to straighten papers on the desk. “I don’t want whatever this is to feel like an obligation. I’m not a charity case.”
Aw, hell. The hurt in her voice was like a foot-long papercut on his heart. “You’re not an obligation or a chore, believe me. What do you normally do on a Friday night?”
Why had he asked that? She and Andrew had probably had a standing date. He moved to her side, crossed his arms, and leaned back against the desk so he could evaluate her reaction.
“You’re going to think I’m pathetic. And boring.” Her voice didn’t betray her, but he knew she was sensitive about being both.
“Boring gets a bad rap. So does the color beige.” He winked, sparking amusement in her eyes, and his tension ticked down a notch. “Anyway, after the day I’ve had, boring sounds perfect.”
“What happened?” She turned, her focus switching from inward to him in a blink. Her breast brushed his biceps, and it clenched instinctively.
“The usual family problems.”
“So it’s okay for you to know intimate details about the implosion of my engagement, but you won’t share your family problems?”
He bit his bottom lip and noticed her gaze drop to the movement. The awareness that simmered between them flared. “I’ll tell you everything, but we have to do whatever you normally do on a Friday night.”
When she looked back up at him, her eyes were dancing. “Remember what I said about my standing date with my couch and junk food? I wasn’t joking. Let’s head to my place.”
He followed her home and parked on the street. By the time she’d gathered her things from the car, he was waiting on her porch. Once inside, instead of dumping everything on the floor which was her instinct, she stashed her purse in a closet and disappeared down a hall, her voice fading with her retreat. “Make yourself comfortable.”
He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and bypassed what appeared to be an even taller stack of fabrics than last time to peruse the built-in bookcases. Mystery and true crime books were interspersed with romances and fantasy paperbacks. All in alphabetical order like a library. He enjoyed reading too, although mostly car magazines or service manuals.
“I love to read.” Her voice had him turning around. “But sewing has taken over my free time.”
She had changed out of her high-end work clothes into a tank top that hugged her curves and cotton boxer-style shorts. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and her face was make-up free, but her cheeks were pink from the scrubbing and her eyes were just as big and bright without mascara.
She looked natural and fresh and like someone who’d be happy hanging out in a garage or renovated barn or hiking through the woods hunting for peace. Wyatt’s stomach took a swan dive. He opened his mouth, but no words formed in his addled brain.
Her shoulders scrunched toward her ears, and she rubbed her arm. “This is how I like to hang out. Take it or leave it.”
The combination of lilting uncertainty and defiance had him taking a step toward her and then another. “Trust me, I’ll take it.”
The innuendo in his voice couldn’t penetrate her innate shyness, yet her chin rose to keep their gazes locked. “You’re making fun of me.”
He rubbed a piece of hair that had been teasing her cheek between his fingers, the softness startling. “You look real pretty in your dresses and heels, but I like you a little messy and wild. Makes me feel like I’m home.”
Her eyes flared. Damn, had he revealed too much? Her smile banished his worries. He didn’t care how far the fall or how messy the impact when she smiled at him like that.
“Take your boots off and get comfy.” While he did her biding, she cued up a screen with a list of movies. “See if anything catches your eye while I make us some popcorn.”
He took the remote and relaxed back into the couch. Noises from the kitchen distracted him—the familiar sound of popcorn but also her sing-humming to herself, off-key enough to make the tune unrecognizable. Every new facet she revealed fascinated him.
She was the polished trendsetter of Cottonbloom, Mississippi, talented designer, successful business owner, and daughter of a prominent judge. But she was also a woman who blushed easily, couldn’t carry a tune, and liked to hang out at home on Friday nights. He was still smiling when she walked in with a bowl of popcorn and shaking a bag of candy.
“Are you ready to get super wild? Because it’s about to get crazy up in this joint.” She ripped the candy bag open with her teeth, poured the candy over the popcorn, and then tossed the empty bag over her shoulder. She hesitated, her eyes shifting to the side.
“You really want to put that bag in the trash, don’t you?”
Rolling her eyes and with a self-deprecating laugh, she handed him the bowl, grabbed the bag, and disappeared into the kitchen, coming back empty-handed. “Sorry, but I like having a tidy, well-organized place.”
He took a handful of candy-infused popcorn. “Again with the apologies. You think Abigail’s would be half as successful if you weren’t incredibly organized”
“Probably not.”
She settled into the crook of his arm as if it were completely natural. And, it was, wasn’t it? They were taking things from fake to real. Except they had hadn’t discussed the looming expiration date. Fun, they were having fun. If he told himself enough, maybe he’d believe that’s all it was.
“You’d better eat that before the chocolate melts in your hand.” She tapped his wrist.
The salty-sweetness hit his mouth like an explosion of goodness, and he reached for more, grunting his approval.
She took a daintier portion and flipped through movie choices with the remote. “I assume your family drama revolves around Ford.”
“Have you had the chance to ask around about him looking for a buyer?” He tensed as if waiting for a kill shot.
“Daddy hasn’t heard anything, and he knows everyone.”
Wyatt laid his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. That was good. Ford’s threats could very well be all bluster. “It’s been like walking on egg shells at the garage all week. Ford and Mack get on like gators in a bathtub. Always have.”
“Can’t they find a way to compromise?”
“Problem is they don’t agree on anything. Not how to run the garage or build the business. Ford wants to schmooze customers, promise things we may not be able to deliver. Mack takes a hard, honest line that sometimes turns people off when they’re used to salesmanship.”
“Sounds like you need 90% Mack and 10% Ford.”
“More like 0.001% Ford,” he said with a chuckle that died as his brain limped around his family’s problems, slower than normal. “Ford never had an interest in the garage. Not even as a kid when it was like our Hot Wheels toys come to life. But Pop couldn’t let him find his own way. Couldn’t understand why Ford of all of us—the oldest, the one he doted on—didn’t care.”
“Did your father play favorites?” She played with his hair, her fingers hypnotic and sending him further down into the vortex of memories.
“Not consciously.” The need to defend his pop stemmed from guilt at a deep-seated resentment he’d never been able to exterminate. “Don’t think badly of him. He was a good man. Honest. Honorable, if such a thing exists anymore.”
“Oh, I’d say it does.” A smile lightened her words, and he lifted his head to see her. The warmth in her eyes was a favorite blanket, a teddy bear, and fresh-from-the-oven chocolate-chip cookies all wrapped up together. Her smile faded into thoughtfulness. “My father is good man too, but that doesn’t mean he’s infallible. He’s still human.”
Even more than his brothers, she would understand. The words he forced out were roughed with emotion. “I love cars. I love the garage.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but.’” She raised her eyebrows in a knowing mimic of his words to her.
He could still feel the excitement and happiness in his heart when the force of his pop’s pride had rained down on him after he’d rebuilt his first transmission. He’d long ago come to terms with his decision, and what had felt like a sacrifice when he was eighteen seemed more like fate now. Yet, questions of ‘what if’ surfaced when the flotsam of daily life grew thin. No one, not even Jackson, knew what he’d given up to work in the garage.
“I gave up a full ride at LSU to work in the garage.”
“Did your dad make you stay?”
“Of course not.” He shifted closer, the different colors of her eyes blurring. “I never told him. Never told anyone. Only the guidance counselor at school knew I had applied. Jackson had already decided to stay and maybe part of me was afraid to go off on my own. I don’t know.”
“You? Afraid?”
He tucked her hair behind her ear. If she knew how scared he was of her, would she laugh? “You might be surprised. Anyway, staying made my family happy, and I don’t regret it.”
Another stroke of her hand in his hair set weights on his eyelids.
“What would you have majored in?” she asked.
“Mechanical engineering.”
“You probably wouldn’t have learned anything you don’t already know.” Another stroke had him blinking to keep his eyes open. “How did your father die?”
A queasy feeling came over him. Yet with her next to him, words that usually stayed bottled up came rushing out like opening a shaken can of Coke. “Heart attack on the shop floor. One minute he was torqueing a bolt and humming the Beatles, the next he’d collapsed.”
“When did it happen?”
“Almost a year ago.” The dread had been building day after day for the last week, setting everyone on edge, although no one had discussed it. Maybe after they got through the anniversary of his death, things would normalize.
“I’m so sorry.” She brushed her lips against his forehead and into the hair at his temple.
“Jackson and I gave him CPR. Doctors said there was nothing we could have done.” He didn’t even attempt to sound together and strong.
Instead of offering platitudes like the preacher and undertaker and ninety-nine percent of the funeral goers had, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and swayed them ever so slightly. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed wrapped in her arms, but when she finally loosened her hold, he felt lighter than he had since his pop had died.
“You still want to watch a movie?” she asked.
“Sure. Put on whatever you had queued up next.”
“It’s a period drama.”
“Start it.” Truth was he favored action movies, but all he wanted was for her to keep doing whatever she was doing while he rested his eyes. Just for a minute.
* * *
Wyatt startled awake, his heart loud in his ears, disoriented in time and space. His dreams had spun him into his childhood, and he half-expected to find himself in the top bunk he’d fought Jackson for when they were five, cozy and safe under his Spiderman covers.
But he wasn’t. That time in his life could never be recreated. His pop was gone, and he was a grown man with big problems. A hollowness in his chest expanded, making itself known. His senses began a catalogue. He was cozy under a different blanket, and the soft body pressed into him beat back the yawning bleakness.
The curtain of her blond hair spread across his shoulder and the curve of a cheekbone was highlighted in a sliver of light from the windows.
Sutton. Something deep within him whispered her name. A plea. He didn’t think he’d spoken aloud, but she responded by arching her back in a cat-like stretch.
They were laying on her couch, and the TV was off. Birds trilled outside, warming up for their morning songs. The sun wasn’t up but the promise of light chased away the inky darkness. A time in between dreams and reality.
He shifted to put his back against the cushions, brushing her hair away from her face and both wishing for more light and hoping the sun never rose. After amending their agreement, he didn’t have to deny himself any longer.
He gave way to his desires and let his mouth drift to hers. Her lips were the perfect combination of salty and sweet. A soft moan and squirm to get closer signaled her wakefulness.
If their first kiss was about revenge and their second about sealing their bargain, this kiss belonged to just the two of them. Gentle, yet devastating, the kiss made him want to stay in limbo with her forever.
He took her mouth in a series of gentle nips and forays, not wanting to push her too far, too fast. But she wasn’t playing by the same rules, her hands spearing into his hair and tugging him closer.
Her throaty, breathless sigh made his typical morning erection even more painful. Was she even aware the sexy little noises she was making drove him insane? He pulled back. Her eyes were closed but she’d pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, letting it go slowly, as if she was aware he was watching and wanted to tease him.
She ran her hand down his chest to his arm, the pull she exerted light but commanding, and hooked her leg over his. Her nipples poked at the thin fabric of her tank top. Through it all, her eyes remained closed. He didn’t want to be a faceless fantasy.
“Look at me.” His voice was roughed with sleep and more emotion than he wanted to claim.
Her eyes fluttered open, the shadows cloaking them both a blessing and curse. As much as he attempted to keep his thoughts hidden, he longed for all her secrets.
“Wyatt, please.” Her voice was husky and wanting.
His name on her lips offered satisfaction. If he could only have her for a little while, he not only wanted to leave her with memories she’d never forget, but make sure she understood how desirable and powerful she truly was.
He kissed the delicate skin at her neck and skimmed his hand over the curve of her bottom. “Please, what? Stop?”
“God, no!” Her response was so quick and vehement, he squeezed her butt and sent her wiggling closer. “I want you to touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
While her body might be speaking to his loud and clear, he needed her to be comfortable enough with him to ask for what she wanted.
“Come on, baby, you told me you had fantasies. Tell me what you want.”
“I want more of your hands on me.” She rotated her hips. “With less clothes in the way. And in a different spot.”
He bit the inside of his mouth to keep from laughing. She was still skittish, but so sweet. The heat coming off her body had increased tenfold, but it seemed less an embarrassed flush and more of an aroused one. How far down did her blush go? He pushed her to her back and came over her on one elbow, tracing his index finger along the skin above her tank top.
“Like this?” he asked.
“Lower.”
He inched his finger toward her nipple, smiling at the sexy impatience of her little mewls and wiggles. Circling the tight bud, he continued the torture.
“Turnaround is a bitch, Wyatt Abbott.” Her softly whispered threat contained more than a hint of tease and humor.
Not so skittish after all. He hummed and whispered, “I look forward to it.”
He leaned to kiss her smiling lips at the same time his fingers found her nipple. She bucked up, her tongue tangling with his and her hand clutching his arm in a grip that stung in pleasure-pain. He continued to play with her nipples over the fabric of her tank top.
“I need more.” Her legs moved against his, her pelvis circling against the thigh he had wedged in between.
He moved his hand down and under her tank top to stroke the soft bare skin of her belly. “This good?”
She spread her legs farther apart. Her eyes remained open, but were heavy-lidded. “About a half foot lower would be a helluva lot better.”
She had claimed the title of goody-goody and called herself beige, but she was dead wrong. Naturally sensuous, she burned red-hot in his arms, but tempered with a sense of humor that would make hard times easier and good times better.
In that moment, Tarwater crowned himself the biggest idiot in the state of Mississippi—and that was saying something. But what Tarwater couldn’t appreciate, Wyatt could. And would, for as long as possible.
He smiled and dropped a kiss on her lips. Someday soon, he take his time and explore, but for now, time was of the essence. He raced against the reality of the morning.
He slipped his hand between her legs and pressed over the cotton of her shorts. She grabbed his neck and arched to press herself against his hand. Blowing out a slow breath, he tugged her shorts and underwear down, and she wiggled to kick them off. Lightly, he ran his fingertips up her inner thigh, goosebumps breaking out over her skin in his wake. Reaching his destination, he found her wet and swollen.
She threw her arm over her eyes against the light suffusing the room. He played in her folds, teasing her before heading where she needed him the most. He forced himself to pay attention to her face as he varied his touch to determine what she enjoyed the most. He settled into a rhythm that quickened her breathing and had her hips moving in counterpoint.
“You’re so fucking sexy.”
She tensed against him and shook her head. He stopped, and she grabbed his wrist. “Wyatt, please.”
“Look at me.” He repeated his command, desperate to keep her from hiding from him.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she tilted her face toward his. It was bright enough now for him to see the uncertainty in her eyes. While she might not be inexperienced, she was an innocent when it came to understanding her desires and power. He could fix that. He took her hand and moved it to the front of his pants.
“You’re so … so…” She swallowed.
“Hard? Because of you.”
“I was going to say ‘big’ but ‘hard’ works too.” Her breathlessness made him smile. As did the fact she didn’t snatch her hand away when he slipped his between her legs once more. She stroked him over his pants, not firm enough to get him off, but he didn’t plan on complaining.
He leaned in to kiss her neck. “Did you touch yourself when you were fantasizing about me?”
He barely heard her whispered, “Yes.”
Unable to help himself, he slipped a finger inside of her. With a cry, she orgasmed, squeezing his erection so hard he saw stars. She rode out her pleasure on his finger, and he bit and sucked at her neck in an attempt to maintain control.
Once she’d calmed, he raised up on his elbow. Her hair was tumbled over his arm and around her flushed face. Her legs were still spread wide, and he stroked her gently with his fingers, loving her silky feel. Her hard little nipples against the thin cotton were too tempting, and he leaned in to nip at the closest with his teeth.
“What do you want?” The tentativeness in her question felt born out of her need to please. What he wanted wasn’t important right now. He needed to leave before the call of her body to his became too loud to deny.
“I want you to think about this and what you want next.” He moved on top of her.
For a moment, he didn’t think his body would obey his brain’s directives to keep moving. She felt perfect underneath him, and he could be inside of her in a matter of seconds. Sending an apology to his erection, he found the willpower to rise.
She popped up to her elbows. “We can’t be done.”
“Don’t worry, we’re just getting started.”
“But you’re leaving. I don’t want you to go.” She scrambled up and struggled to put on her shorts, getting both legs in the same hole on the first try. He would have laughed if he wasn’t feeling just as discombobulated, his hands trembling on his kindergartenish attempt to lace his boots.
“I promised Mack and Jackson I would be there today.” Although he hadn’t actually promised in so many words, today of all days, he belonged at their sides. As an excuse, it was fire- and waterproof.
“Later, then?” Looking satisfied if slightly pissed off, she followed him to the door.
Would Jackson or Wyatt need him tonight? Or maybe he would need them. It seemed appropriate for them to be together. “I’ll text you and let you know about tonight.”
He leaned in to capture her reddened lips in a kiss and noticed the hickey on the side of her neck. Should he warn her? He smiled against her mouth. Part of her aim was still to convince the town she and Wyatt were an item. What better way than an adolescent mark of possession?
“Are you working today?” he asked.
“For a few hours.”
Anticipation was the strongest aphrodisiac and might help him get through the day. “You know all those fantasies you mentioned? How about making a top ten list for us to work through.”
He walked away before the hot look she gave him incinerated his pants.