Remember Arizona: A Second Chance Romance (Country Love Collection)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Most of the artists were now drifting out back to where the distinct scent of marijuana came from.

  There is no point. No point in going unless you want to talk about the past.

  My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t had anything to eat except the muffin several hours ago. The hors d’oeuvres were devoured by the (apparently literally) starving artists, and the only thing filling my stomach right now was bubbles and alcohol.

  Tipsy and alone with Sam. Clear, obvious warning signs.

  And then I heard myself ask, “Screaming Banshee?”

  Sam grinned. “Would I even think of suggesting anywhere else?”

  I hope you know what you’re doing, Tally Kerr. —Sincerely, Your Heart.

  “One Thai Me Up, Thai Me Down, please,” I ordered at the counter, clearing my throat when I caught Tally’s subtle shift in weight and the way her gaze flitted back to the front windows.

  The Screaming Banshee was the kind of place that was famous in a small town, but not so much as the pizza I’d ordered. Homemade dough layered with mango chutney, Satay chicken, and mozzarella cheese, topped with carrots and peanuts… it was a one-of-a-kind Bisbee creation. And even though we’d had this Arizona favorite almost every week of every summer for years, we were younger then; we didn’t understand the play on words like we did now.

  “Remember that summer when Mee-Maw signed you up for a pottery class?” I changed the subject, grabbing hold of the sudden memory to defuse the tension in the air. “And you skipped it so we could come here instead?”

  “That class was for little kids,” Tally huffed and crossed her arms.

  My head tipped back with a laugh, and I pushed a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “You were a little kid.”

  She rolled her eyes as I handed the cashier my credit card. “Whatever. I wasn’t interested in pottery.” She couldn’t stop the small quirk in her lips.

  “Do you think she knows?” I sent her a sideways conspiratorial glance.

  “Knows what? I made that pizza stone!” Tally insisted, her serious face holding for a split second before we both crumbled into laughter.

  She hadn’t made a pizza stone. She hadn’t made anything.

  At the end of the week, realizing she needed something to show for the class she’d snuck out of, she’d bought a pizza stone from the Screaming Banshee with money saved from her allowance, took it home to Mee-Maw and told her it was what she’d made.

  “She’s probably forgotten about it by now.”

  I shot her a glance as I signed the receipt. “Oh no, she still uses it.” I scribbled my name. “Thursday is always pizza night, and I’m always left trying Mee-Maw’s latest concoction Friday afternoon—” I broke off before I said too much.

  But it was Tally’s withdrawn stance—her dipped chin and wayward gaze—that caught me off guard. Forget revealing too much about the present, I’d lost myself in the memory and reopened the rift of time between us.

  Without missing a beat, as soon as I paid Tally turned and walked, lost in thought, over to the table we always picked in the front corner by the windows.

  It was hard to miss this place. The white building had bright red molding around the doors and windows and a front awning that made the building look like it might’ve been a gas station in a previous life, the way the covered extension of the building stuck out and was held up by pillars with a giant cartoon flame perched on the end. But it had been a pizza joint for as long as I could remember.

  Tally wore a long burnt-orange dress. Vibrant but down-to-earth. Like she was. And it clung to the swells of her breasts and the curve of her waist like the colors of a sunset over the Mule Mountains.

  I sucked in a breath when she sat and her eyes flicked to mine.

  Tally Turquoise.

  Those damn eyes would always take my breath away. No matter where we were. No matter how long it had been.

  Sitting down, I adjusted my pants once they were below the level of the table. Being attracted to her was another complicating factor.

  It had always been a complicating factor.

  Only now, I was having to pretend to feel something I already felt.

  “Thank you for coming,” she murmured. “You didn’t have to.”

  My chin dipped. “I did,” I told her. “I did, and I’m sorry I was late. I was hung up at work.”

  One more thing I’d have to tell her about.

  The conversation momentarily paused as the waitress came over to deliver our pizza, and Tally and I shared the same look over the delicious-smelling pie that we’d had so many times before, too hungry and too eager to wait for it to cool.

  “Careful—” I broke off when she reached out for a slice anyway and pulled back with a hiss.

  “Ow!” Her whimper dulled as she stuck her finger in her mouth to assuage the small burn.

  This scene had happened a thousand times before, only now, every part of me was aware of her—of her mouth. The way her plump, pink lips that she’d pressed to mine yesterday wrapped around the tip of her finger. And my cock went from aware to aching aggravation with the first subtle suck.

  “I warned you,” I grunted, shifting in my seat and reaching forward to get her a slice.

  “I didn’t remember it being that hot,” she offered, watching me separate a slice for her. “I swear it was never that hot before.”

  “You burn yourself every time we get pizza here, Tally.” I chuckled, wincing at the rocket of pain-filled lust it sent straight down to my groin.

  She glared at me. “Well, I haven’t had anything from here in a long time,” she replied. “Sometimes, things change.”

  My movements faltered ever so slightly. Her words… the way she spoke… it wasn’t just about the pizza.

  Some things had changed… but not everything. I bit into the side of my tongue, holding the words back from escaping.

  “Yeah. Everything just got hotter after you left,” I replied, trying to lighten the conversation before I crossed a line it was too soon to cross.

  “Some things definitely did,” she grumbled under her breath, eyeing the slice of pizza about to be hers.

  My gaze snapped to hers, and she sucked in a quick breath, pink tinting her cheeks.

  Was she talking about me?

  “Thank you,” she said louder and grabbed the piece of pizza, shoving the end in her mouth for a bite; even though it still had to be hot enough to burn, the sound that slipped out was only that of pure pleasure.

  If she was embarrassed for calling me hot, she should’ve seen the way my insides contorted, my dick straining against my jeans when she let out that moan.

  Christ, Tally.

  With a grunt, I wished my fingers were more affected by the heat of the pizza. I wished I could feel the burn on my skin from it rather than the burn in my blood from her.

  But that was what a decade of working with tiny pieces of hot metal would do—callous my fingers until the only pain I registered was that of having the only woman I’d ever wanted sitting right in front of me and not being able to actually have her.

  “So, what’s going on?” I cleared my throat and asked before taking a bite of my own slice.

  “What do you mean?”

  My head tipped to the side and my eyebrow rose.

  Her hard expression held for a second before she caved with a long sigh. She might be able to dance around the uncomfortable truth with Mee-Maw but not with me.

  “You mean with the whole fake boyfriend thing?”

  “I mean with everything, Tally,” I told her. “With you. With what you do. With the exhibit. And yeah, with the fake boyfriend thing.”

  She tensed, and I worried I’d pulled too many strings and my chest burned.

  It was the worst goddamn feeling in the world to know the truth would fix so much, but to know I’d hurt her so badly she couldn’t accept the truth right now in full force.

  It was like someone having been starved for many months. To bring them to a feast and let
them devour much-needed food would do more harm than good. It was the truth she needed, but I needed to be strong enough to give it to her in manageable bites otherwise, I’d risk losing her all over again.

  “Tell me about the exhibit,” I pleaded with a small smile. That was an easy start. It was her job—why she was here. “I don’t even know the last time I was at the Belleza.”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and I took a breath of relief. “I work for a company in the city that curates a lot of large exhibits—traveling exhibits. This was the first one, though, that was handed to me to do solo,” she began, pausing to take another bite. “I have a dozen what you would consider up-and-coming contemporary artists. So, they’ve all been asked to showcase an original work of their own. But, what I’ve also decided to do with those who want to participate is have a work-in-progress displayed.”

  While she spoke, I freed another slice and slid it onto her plate so she wouldn’t have to stop.

  “Bisbee is… unique. And beautiful. And full of inspiration.” A half smile flitted across her face. “So, I’ve offered a few excursions to see some of the sights, the mines, a ghost tour, and the Lavender Pit.” Here, she paused, her lashes fluttering down onto the rise of her cheeks that stained deeper with color. “They’ll each be creating a new piece inspired by Bisbee and they’ll display the work-in-progress at the gallery each week so guests will be encouraged to come back and see how the artworks take form.”

  Instead of eating my food while she talked, I could only watch her. Watch the way her thoughts change the blue tint of her eyes. Watch how the words shaped her lips around them.

  For so long, I’d told myself it was better this way—that she was happier where she was without me in her life. And her happiness had always been the most important thing to me. More important than my exoneration.

  But watching her now… the flash of her smile when she talked about her hometown, the spark in her eyes when she mentioned the places that held meaning—and memories—for her. For us. Part of me wondered if I’d done the right thing… the other part knew being wrong would hurt worse than being right.

  There was a wall between us, and I wasn’t the only one who needed it to come tumbling down.

  “I think it’ll be a hit,” I told her, finishing up my second slice. “I think creating the connection between visitors and the artists with the interpretation of a local sight is genius.”

  “Really?” Her eyes popped wide.

  “Yeah, really, Tally.” I grinned and nodded.

  She sagged back against the seat, resting her hands on her stomach the way she did when she was too full. Her position tightened the fabric over her breasts, making the unpadded lace of her bra and the faintest hint of her nipple vaguely unmistakable. Which was clear enough for my cock to turn rock solid.

  With a loud sigh, she added with a wry smile, “I guess that makes up for my hairbrained idea to have you pretend to be my boyfriend.”

  I laughed with her, feeling another layer shed between us, but when my eyes locked on hers, the laughter fizzled like fire doused with water.

  “About that…” I trailed off, letting her have the floor.

  If there was any hope of me making this right with Tally, I had to stop trying to force it—to force her to revisit the past and understand what happened.

  The edge of her top teeth pinned and plumped the fullness of her lower lip for a second before her tongue slipped out and dragged another wet layer of want over the reddened flesh.

  Christ, Tally Kerr was dangerous. Always was. Always would be.

  I sat back and folded my arms across my chest, letting my gaze drift out the front window, watching as people came and went from the pizza shop and praying Tally didn’t notice that my veins felt like live electrical wires running through my body, pulsing with an energy that came from a source much lower—a source that needed to stay quiet.

  “Why are you doing this, Tally?” I asked, feeling like a noose was slowly tightening around my neck, waiting for her answer. “Is this just to make him jealous? Do you really want him back?”

  I tried not to sound judgmental, but I couldn’t help the stain of disdain I felt for the artist who seemed like—genius or not—a giant tool. And I tried not to ask at all. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear how she’d moved on. I didn’t want to hear how she thought this guy was the one.

  She sat for a moment, rubbing the outsides of her arms and letting her chin dip, weighed down by her intention of holding back the full truth.

  “I told you, I don’t want our breakup to color the exhibit any more than it already has.” Her eyes flashed with defiance to mine. “You saw it in there. It’ll only get worse as the weeks go on. They’re all watching—waiting.” She shuddered. “I’m not here to be a part of the show, Sam. So, I just want everyone, including Carlos, to believe I’ve moved on, too.”

  It was the way she said the last that made me flinch.

  “How long?” I asked. “How long after you broke up until he moved on?”

  I blinked and tried to recall the woman who was with him, but she was nothing more than a shadow next to Tally’s brightness.

  After a few seconds, she replied, her eyes hooded, “We should get going.”

  Without missing a beat, Tally stood and grabbed plates along with the pizza tray, returning everything back to the counter.

  Swearing under my breath, I rose and quickened my pace to catch up to her, blood pumping loudly in my ears.

  “Tally!” I called, reaching for her arm once we were out front of the restaurant.

  There was a slight tension but she didn’t pull away.

  “What, Sam?” She faced me and crossed her arms.

  “How long?”

  My eyes locked on hers, watching the clouds roll like dark storms across the normally bright teal. Before I could stop them. My fingers skated up the outside of her arm, crossed the sea between her shoulder and cheek, and tucked a strand of hair back behind her ear.

  “Mine’s longer than yours now,” I said without thinking.

  Unexpected but welcome, the comment broke through and drew a small smile up from the depths of her discomfort.

  “It only took you a decade—and for me to chop mine all off.”

  I chuckled. There was the fire I knew would never burn out—the sassy spark that captured my attention all those years ago and never let it go.

  “Mine’s still longer,” I rasped, my smile quirking up, satisfied with my triumph.

  “I bet your dad would be happy to see it like this,” she murmured. “You look a lot like him from that photo.”

  My gut clenched. It was so unexpected and so bittersweet to hear her talk about him like that.. right now… I couldn’t protect the shield of my smile, and it fell with obvious dismay.

  “How long?” I asked again before her wondering gaze grew into words and questions that I couldn’t answer right now. Not yet.

  I let my eyes slide from hers and trace along the curve of her face, my fingers merging with it at the corner of her jaw and sliding down to her chin. I should’ve dropped my hand away, should’ve stepped back. Gave her space. There was more than one way to get too close to Tally before she was ready—more than one way to push her away before I had a chance to explain the truth. And wanting her was one of them. But my hand remained frozen as I lifted my attention to the subtle part of her lips, the answer waiting to escape with her next breath.

  There were so many things I wanted to know and this was certainly one of them. But I also wanted to know if her lips still tasted as sweet—as hopeful—as they once did.

  “Negative four weeks,” she murmured.

  “What?” I lifted her chin slightly when it went to fall. I would never let any part of her fall—not when I could stop it.

  Twin blue flames blazed. “There was no time between our breakup, Sam. He was seeing both of us at the same time. For four weeks. The day we broke up was the day I came home and… realized what was
going on.”

  My pulse screamed. There was only one other time I’d ever felt such a burning rage for someone and the situation they’d put Tally in, and it was a decade ago.

  “Tally…” I bit out her name, paralyzed by my own fear that one move would send me back to the gallery in search of the fucker who’d been dumb enough to cheat on the woman in front of me—the man who’d been dumb enough to trade a masterpiece for a mockery.

  “Don’t,” she warned, pulling her face back out of my reach. “I don’t want to talk about it, Sam. It’s done. I’m fine.”

  “Fine?” I charged. “That dickbag cheated on you and now, you want me to make him jealous?”

  “I never said—” she broke off and shook her head, making me instantly regret my outburst. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “No, Tally. Wait.” I caught up to her again and used every ounce of strength not to reach for her a second time. “I’m still here. I’m still on board…for whatever you need.”

  I needed to give her what she needed before I could give her the truth.

  She looked at me skeptically. “Three weeks. As my boyfriend.” She paused. “And no more talk about the past.”

  Her hand extended between us to shake on the offer. We each held the others stare until finally, like so many times in the past, I let mine drop into a nod.

  “Your boyfriend for three weeks,” I confirmed, my voice steady over the idea that had us both falling into an unknown I wasn’t sure we’d make it out of.

  Her nod was halted, and she added, “Pretend,” like it was an afterthought.

  For some reason, I couldn’t reply. I couldn’t make myself agree to anything that wasn’t real with her. So, I held my silence and let my handshake be interpreted as acceptance. My fingers closed over her smaller ones, sending radiating waves of heat seeping through my skin and muscles, into my blood and bones, and bringing back to life all the parts of me that had been waiting for her.

  Her small, swift inhale stoked the flame. At least I wasn’t the only one who saw the dangers in what we were doing—who felt them. But I’d always seen the dangers that brought me closer to Tally, and they’d never stopped me before.