CHAPTER SEVEN

Putting the car in neutral, Austin undid his seat belt, opened his door, and exited. Bea stared after him, not moving for a beat or two, her hands and her legs shaking so hard from adrenaline and anticipation. Then he was at her door, opening it, blue denim filling her vision. “You don’t have to do this.”

Oh yes, she did. She really, really needed to do this. If it had felt this good as a passenger, how good must it feel to be the one in the driver’s seat? Bea had been kicked out of the driver’s seat of her life, and she wanted it back.

And really, the only true question was: WWDD?

Unclipping her seat belt with fingers that refused to cooperate took longer than Bea would have liked, but she finally managed, climbing out of the car on unsteady legs, her gaze locking with his for the briefest moment. And in that nanosecond, with the acrid stench of burned rubber making her dizzy, she saw the same reckless kind of craving lurking in his eyes she knew lurked in her own. She wondered if he could feel it in every cell of his body like she could?

Feel it in every atom of oxygen in his lungs?

Passing by him, she scuttled around the idling car on her still-trembling legs to the driver’s side, praying like hell she didn’t trip over her feet and fall on her face. She didn’t.

After sliding into the driver’s seat, Bea shut the door with a reassuring thunk and buckled up.

“Okay, remember what I said?”

Yes. No. Yes. Bea nodded. “Sure.” She could do this.

“Good. Turn the car around so it’s facing back the other way, so you have plenty of road ahead.”

Bea’s hands slid onto the wheel. It was thick and solid as she wrapped her fingers around the circumference, the soft leather cover giving it an almost silky feel. She’d never noticed until right now with every cell in her body in a state of frisson and Officer Sexy Mouth beside her generating pheromones by the bucketload, just how phallic a steering wheel could feel as it slid between her curled fingers.

Thankfully the smoke had cleared, and Bea was able to put the car into first and follow his instructions. In less than a minute, they were stationary in the parking lot, facing the opposite direction. She revved the engine just for the hell of it, and her inner thigh muscles contracted deliciously at the corresponding roar.

Her nipples went hard as nickels.

“You ready for this?” His voice was low and loaded, and Bea was pretty sure he wasn’t just asking about the burnout. But that was all she had eyes for right now. The asphalt ahead, the mad skip of her pulse, and the drag of her lungs as she revved the engine several more times.

With her foot planted squarely on the brake, the car roared like a 737, and lust and sex and anticipation swelled in Bea so hard and so fast every fiber in her belly pulled taut.

“That’s it,” he said, “good hold.”

His compliment was low in her ear. Or maybe it wasn’t, but she could barely hear him over the thrum of her pulse through her head. Bea’s face heated and her breathing grew thicker as the wheels started to spin and the tires squealed on the asphalt and the smoke started to billow up in the rear window.

She was doing it. Holding this screeching, belching, demanding animal in place, snarling and snapping to be let free, with just her feet and her hands and her freaking mind, and she’d never been more terrified or more turned on in her life.

“Good,” Austin murmured, just audible over the jungle beat of her heart. “Ease her out now, but keep her close.”

Bea did as she was told, the car slewing crazily to one side for a moment as it squealed to be let go, but she pulled it back in to its forward trajectory, her knuckles blanching as they tightened around the steering wheel and thick white smoke billowed around them. She drove the vehicle about thirty or forty feet, keeping the beast well and truly leashed, before bringing it to a screeching halt.

Silence filled the car, and Bea finally let out her breath as she put it into neutral, the taut bow of her body slumping against the seat.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, raising her trembling hands and staring at them, her body one giant reverberating thrum.

He laughed a great honking laugh. “You did it.”

Bea turned her head and stared at him. “I did, didn’t I?” And she laughed, too. Pressing her hands to her chest, she laughed in a way she hadn’t laughed in years.

“You did that like a pro,” he said when their laughter finally faded.

“That’s because I had a good teacher.”

“Well…” He shrugged, feigning an aww-shucks expression. “I don’t like to brag.”

Bea raised eyebrows that hadn’t had any kind of sculpting in well over a month and probably looked like twin giant pornstaches high on her forehead. “But you will.”

“I think someone who can get you all flushed with excitement like that deserves a moment to shine.”

She didn’t need a mirror to know she was pink-cheeked; she could feel the heat radiating off her face. She felt—and no doubt looked—like a wildling. “This isn’t excitement. This is terror.” It was amazing how closely the two were related.

Laughing again, he said, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

It felt freaking amazing. Best thing she’d ever done with her clothes on. This whole being-reckless, living-on-the-edge thing was utterly titillating. Every cell in her body buzzed with accomplishment. Was this how her mom felt when she’d been in the middle of one of her impromptu painting frenzies and she wouldn’t sleep or eat or bathe, yet she seemed to glow from the inside out?

And why in the hell wasn’t the mere thought of that scaring the crap out of her?

God…who even was she right now? Sitting here burning rubber in a hideously expensive car with a guy—a police officer—ten years younger than her, in a town literally in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe she was like her mother. As her grandmother so often said.

She’d never meant it as a compliment, though, and those words had always made her father tense, but whatever was happening right now wasn’t her. Bea couldn’t remember the last time anything less than scoring a major account was able to get her this jazzed.

But she was damned if she was going to give Officer Sexy Teacher any heads-up as to the internal fireworks going off inside her at the moment. She had the feeling he’d know exactly what to do with them. “Like I said,” Bea replied noncommittally, trying to rein in the flood of exhilaration, “you’re a good teacher. Some people suck at it.”

“I bet you’re a good teacher, too. I bet there are things you could teach me.”

He grinned at her, and his eyes were sparkling and the skin around the corners of his eyes crinkled and he was teasing her and so in to teasing her, it was causing a funny skip in her pulse. She doubted very much that she could teach Austin Cooper what he was implying. She was no Mrs. Robinson. Whereas he, on the other hand, looked like he’d been born with The Joy of Sex chip already fully integrated with his mainframe.

He could probably teach her a thing or two…

But the engine was idling at just the right level of rumble, keeping everything on a kind of simmer, and Bea was finding it increasingly hard to take a deep breath, and she just wanted to lean in and kiss that smile right off his mouth.

Which wasn’t going to happen.

She might be in the middle of a personal and career crisis that had knocked her on her ass and left her questioning every single thing she ever knew about everything, but she knew this—kissing Austin Cooper would be a bad move. Putting aside the fact that getting tangled up with a younger man hadn’t ended well for her mother, Austin was a human being. Not a distraction. Not someone to play with to make herself feel better or forget.

Credence was her home—for the time being. It was a…circuit breaker. A place to hide away and regroup. When she figured out what she wanted to do next, she’d be moving on, and she didn’t want to leave with any ill will surrounding her stay.

“Unless you’re into brand analysis and what age demographics are more or less likely to buy perfume, halogen lamps, or canned salmon, and where these demographics intersect, probably not.”

He nodded and deadpanned, “That sounds totally hot.”

Bea laughed. “Uh-huh. Sure it is.”

“Sounds like you have a lot of…” For a moment, Bea thought he was going to say useless crap, but he didn’t. “Data inside that head.”

Oh yeah. Bea had critical levels of data, aka useless crap, taking up space in her head. Hell, she could be on an episode of Hoarders, it was that cluttered up there.

At least here in Credence, she could Marie Kondo the hell out of her brain.

“I do.” And she was done thinking about it. “But I’m on a high here—don’t spoil it.”

“Fine by me.” He shrugged. “So…what do you want to do now?”

The question was about as loaded as was possible and, because she was amped up and kiss Austin was whispering through her head, she grabbed the next sweetest option. “Pie.”

His left eyebrow kicked up. “I thought you were worried about your ass?”

Not as worried as she was about what she might do with her mouth if it wasn’t busy doing something else. “What can I say? Recklessness makes me hungry.”

He grinned. “Lucky me.” Then, turning his attention to the glove box—thank you, sweet Jesus—he pulled out the brown paper packet and handed it over.

Bea was salivating even before the waft of sugar filled her nostrils. She pulled out the very generous slice of coconut cream pie and, while it wasn’t an orgasm, it was the next best thing she’d allow herself inside the BMW. She stared at it longingly before glancing at Austin, who was looking at it like it was the answer to world peace. “You want half?”

He raised his eyes to meet hers. “I couldn’t possibly deprive you.” And the way he said deprive left Bea in little doubt he wasn’t just talking about pie. His eyes seemed to be saying that deprivation was wholly unnatural. Wholly unnecessary. He tipped his chin at the airy concoction of cream and sugar. “You go ahead.”

Bea smiled. “That was so the right answer.”

“I’ll watch.”

Bea rolled her eyes. “You, Officer, are a pervert.”

She didn’t know if he responded, he may well have made some reply, but Bea didn’t hear anything from the second she bit into the pie. Sweetness infused her taste buds; the lightness of cream and the buttery flakiness of pastry followed in rapid succession. The crunch of toasted coconut brought up the rear. The heady essence of vanilla filled her nostrils. A choir of freaking angels sang the “Hallelujah” chorus.

“Oh…my…God,” she muttered, barely chewing and swallowing the first mouthful before she went in for the second. She’d already known that Annie was a pie goddess, but this pie was something else. Something…otherworldly. She glanced at Austin. “Seriously,” she said around her mouthful. “Annie’s the devil, isn’t she?”

He chuckled. “Didn’t I tell you it was a religious experience?”

Bea shook her head. “I think the word you’re searching for is cult.”

Indulging like this was a hedonism that bordered on sexual. Completely selfish, utterly thrilling. And between the adrenaline charge of burning rubber in her BMW and the sheer oral indulgence of Annie’s coconut cream pie, Bea had a new insight into the pull of the risqué. Of just surrendering to the decadence of pleasure and to hell with the consequences.

A new insight to her mother.

On the third bite, she actually moaned while plotting where they could build their pie-cult compound, and she knew she was putting on a spectacle by the intensity of Austin’s gaze on her mouth, but she couldn’t help it. How anyone could eat this piece of pie and not be vocal with their appreciation, she had no idea. That would be like watching Dean Winchester strip naked and not sigh/whimper/drool.

Or all three at once.

But she was not Austin’s personal live-feed food (or other) porn channel, and this wasn’t the way to set boundaries.

“Here,” she said, pushing the pie in his direction, because even though he’d already declined, there was little else to do in the stationary, idling car except eat, and the thought of smearing it on his neck and licking it off was presenting itself as a perfectly acceptable way to eat right now. Inviting him to take his own bite seemed safer. “I’m not giving you half, but for introducing me to this wonder, you get a bite.”

He glanced at the offering. “It’s fine. I know what it tastes like, and watching you is much more satisfying.”

Oh, hell…he really shouldn’t be talking now. She nudged the pie closer about an inch from his mouth. “I insist.”

After a beat or two of heated looks, Austin leaned in, opened his mouth, and bit into the soft center of the pie before pulling away, licking cream off his lips as he went. And now he was her food porn channel.

Holy shit. Stop it, Beatrice. Pull yourself together.

“Did the police academy teach you how to do that?” she asked, leaping on the first thing that came into her head. Conversation was a good distraction, right?

“Eat pie?”

Bea rolled her eyes but was pleased to be steering away from the teetering edge of their attraction. “Burnouts.”

“Ah.” He chuckled. “No. I grew up on a ranch just outside Credence. As soon as I could reach the pedals, I was driving. My older brother taught me how to spin the wheels, and there were a lot of bonfire nights with buddies where we burned a helluva lot of rubber.”

He laughed, the kind of laugh that was soft with good times. She could picture him as a teenager, the glow of a roaring fire lighting his face as he climbed into his pickup, all legs and hormones—ten feet tall and bulletproof. She wondered if he’d known then that one day he was going to turn a woman on with sheer horse—and pie—power alone.

Without even touching her.

His hand splayed on his chest as he laughed, and the relaxed, un-self-conscious gesture was somehow endearing as all get-out. He wasn’t censoring himself around her—this wasn’t Austin the cop in the car with her.

This was Austin the man.

He shook his head absently, his hand falling to his lap. “It’s a wonder we didn’t kill ourselves. My mother would have whooped our asses if she’d known what we were getting up to half the time.”

Bea felt the obvious affection for the place he grew up and for his family like a tangible force. He wore it like a halo. And a pang of what felt very much like envy cramped through her chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d ever wished she’d had a different upbringing in a house full of love and family, but it had been a very long time since she had.

“You have just the one older brother?”

“And four older sisters.”

Bea blinked. Four older sisters? No wonder the guy had taken her…quirks in stride. He was clearly used to being around women.

“Two live in Wyoming now. One in Delaware. The other lives three counties over.”

There was that soft affection again.

“You miss the ranch?” she asked as she nibbled more sedately at the pie, trying to make it last.

“Hardly.” He grinned. “I still live there. Moved back home when I left Denver last year.”

Bea stopped chewing for a split second. What? Oh no. Oh dear God, no. “You live with your parents?”

“Yes.”

If that didn’t scream younger man, Bea had no idea what did. God…she was lusting over a guy who still lived at home with Mom and Dad.

What was wrong with her?

“So does my brother and his wife, Jill. The ranch is big enough for all of us, and I’m able to lend a hand around the place.”

Clearly it sounded like the most natural thing in the world for Austin, but it was just the bucket of cold water she needed. “I see.”

She bit into the pie again, not really tasting it anymore. Well, she had started this conversation to distract her from Austin Cooper eating pie, and it had certainly achieved its goal.

“I especially like the laundry detergent Mom uses and the way she irons my work pants and still cuts the crusts off my sandwiches when she fixes my lunch.”

Bea blinked. “Right.” His mother still ironed his clothes and made his lunch?

Suddenly he burst into laughter, slapping his thigh and doing that hand-splayed-across-his-chest thing again. “Oh my God, you should see your expression.” He laughed some more and pointed at her face. “You look like you don’t know whether to be outraged or disgusted.”

Right now, as a cooling surge of relief hit her system, Bea was just grateful. More than she wanted to admit for a woman who wasn’t supposed to be invested in Austin Cooper and what he did and didn’t do. His mother could still tuck him in at night and kiss his boo-boos better for all she cared.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Very funny. So you don’t live at home?”

“Oh, no, I do live on the ranch. But I have my own cabin and wash and iron my own clothes. And fix my own lunch. In fact, I’m quite handy in the kitchen.”

He was looking at her as if waiting for praise for his stunning example of modern masculinity. Which made him shit out of luck. “What? You want me to throw you a parade because you know how not to starve to death?”

“Hell no.” He laughed. “I was just thinking you might like to come to dinner one night so I can impress you with my prowess.”

Aaaand they were back to the flirting and the innuendo. Because for damn sure, he wasn’t just talking about his cooking prowess. She didn’t need a crystal ball to know how that would go down, holed up in a rustic cabin with Austin at his most flirty and charming, seducing her with food and the way he said Beatrice like it finished with an S. Or several of them.

Beatrisss.

“And ruin my reputation as the town hermit?” she quipped.

He laughed, and the way it brushed against all Bea’s erogenous zones was decidedly wicked. The man had a very busy laugh. Glancing at the last couple of mouthfuls of pie balancing on her fingertips, she pushed it in his direction again. “Here. Last bit for you.”

“Nah.” He waved it away. “All yours.”

“Can’t, I’m stuffed full.” Which was true—it had been an enormous slice, and he looked like the kinda guy who was a bottomless pit with all that muscle mass and his twenty-five-year-young metabolism. “And it would be a crime to waste it.”

He shook his head. “Beatriss, that would be a sin.”

And then, instead of reaching for the remaining pie with his hand, like she’d expected, he leaned in again, opened his lips, and took it with his mouth. Bea’s breath caught in her throat as the tip of his tongue swept over the pads of her fingers, followed by hot, wet suction as he slowly pulled away and her fingers slid from his mouth.

It was an utterly filthy, low-down move.

“Thank you,” he said around the mouthful as he sat back a little, clearly savoring the taste.

Bea barely moved; in fact, her fingers were still kind of hovering halfway between them, mesmerized by the heat in his gaze, the moist sheen of his lips, and the slick of cream at the corner of his mouth.

“You have…”

She pointed at the small white dollop, but the sentence kinda drifted away as she stared at it. Bea had never been gripped with the urge to lick food off another person’s mouth. Which, to be fair to herself, was a reasonable standard of hygiene, but maybe it was just another indicator of how lacking her life had been.

Nevertheless, here she was, needing to lick the cream off Austin’s mouth. God…her life really was spiraling out of control.

“What?” His voice was low, his gaze finding and locking with hers, his eyes hot and probing and…daring. “What do I have?” he asked as he leaned in ever so slightly.

Bea couldn’t tell if the noise bubbling around them was the rumble of the engine or the staccato beat of her heart. All she was conscious of was his heat and his intensity and the way his eyes had dropped to focus on her mouth.

God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.

And then, the sweet smell of pie and the heady effects of adrenaline still sizzling through her system joined forces, goading her to do it. To forget the past and live in the moment, just this one moment.

Kiss that cream off his mouth. Enjoy every sweet second.

And for once in her life, she forgot about being the daughter of a woman who had run away with a younger man—abandoning her kid and ruining her marriage in the process—and just did it.

Leaning swiftly in, she closed the gap between their mouths as if she’d been doing it forever instead of for the first time. Her hand slid into the back of his hair as her mouth landed on the corner of his and settled there, her tongue automatically lapping at the seal of his lips.

She heard herself sigh and a noise from the back of his throat that may have been a strangled kind of groan. But neither of them pushed to deepen the kiss. Frankly, Bea’s pulse was hammering so hard, her cardiovascular system couldn’t have taken the extra stimulation. She just sat there, holding his head in place, enjoying the soft yield of his mouth and the taste of his lips and the utter thrill of being in the moment.

She’d met Austin three days ago, and now here she was, breaking all the rules with him.

Pushing all her limits, tangling herself up with a younger man.

It was just the thought she needed to bring her back to reality, and she withdrew, sitting back in her seat. “I’m sorry.” She grimaced even as she fought the urge to go back for more. “I should not have done that.”

“Because you’re going to want to keep doing it?”

Bea laughed despite her inner turmoil. “You have a very healthy ego—anyone ever tell you that?”

“I have been told, yes.”

He grinned, completely unconcerned by the character assessment. Officer Hot ’n Tot, Bea decided, was what her grandmother called incorrigible.

“Also, and this is just a thought, I’m…putting it out there while my ego is still all puffed up. I could be that outrageously unsuitable guy you were talking about.”

Oh yeah. That he could. He was the very definition of outrageously unsuitable in ways he couldn’t even begin to fathom. Bea’s pulse fluttered, despite her brain shutting down the idea. “You want to be a check mark on someone’s shitty list?”

“Yeah. Why not?” He grinned. “Besides, maybe I have a list, too? And on my list is to be someone’s outrageously unsuitable guy?”

Good lord, he was so damn cute, she wanted to take him home and pet him. Among other things. But Bea wasn’t going to go there. “Austin…I’m very flattered that you’re flirting with me, but I don’t want to take advantage of you—”

“You should totally take advantage of me.”

Bea rolled her eyes. “Or objectify you.”

“Objectify me. I’m up for that.”

“Austin.” She shot him an impatient look even as a million ways she could objectify him battered against her brain like a ram. “I like you. But—” There was no way Bea was unloading the reasons why she wouldn’t get involved with a younger man. She’d known him three days and already told him too damn much. “I’m not here forever, you know? It’ll just make things weird between us.”

“Why would they be weird?”

She gave a half laugh. Oh, the innocence. “Trust me, they would.”

Bea had always marveled at people who could have normal interactions after a sexual interlude. She’d never quite mastered that trick. Advertising was a small world, and it always felt awkward knowing that someone sitting across the table or at an industry party knew intimate things about her. That she knew intimate things about them.

And Credence was waaaay smaller.

His jaw tightened. “Beatrice, I might be twenty-five, but I’m a big boy. I can deal.” Then he sighed, a slow smile ironing out the tension. “However…your wish is my command. Just know that the offer is always open.”

Bea laughed. “Thank you. I’ll keep it up my sleeve.”

Like she was going to think about anything else.