by Siera London
Kelby threw up her hands to avoid shaking her friend. “A surprise is finding out your hair gel is flammable,” she exclaimed. “I’m not giving him a chance or a second glance.” Why was X pushing this? “He lives in his mother's spare bedroom. I promise,” Kelby clapped her hands together to emphasize her point, “this isn't a love match."
Sometimes she wondered what people thought of her. What about her personality said this overgrown mama's boy in his Osh K’osh B’Gosh™ could be her Prince Charming? Not that she was looking. Kelby was all out of love. As soon as this fiasco ended, she needed to have a long conversation with her matchmaking friend.
"But—"
"The answer is no," she said, dropping both hands onto her hips. "He looks like a melted milk dud in a onesie."
Xenobia shrugged, her inky black locks luminescent in the summer light. Along with the same peach lace sundress, she wore a small diamond stud in each ear, a thin gold hoop through her left nostril, and a bold tattoo of a motorcycle covered her center chest. The words: Lady Guardians, formed an arc over the handlebars. Kelby never asked for details on the female biker club. X never offered.
"I thought those were capri pants,” she snickered.
Kelby rolled her eyes. “For men?”
She laughed. X laughed till tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
“Okayy… maybe the clothes are a little tight and the body could use a rebuild, but…” she perked up, “He showed up at a wedding. Girl, you could be his wifey."
"Seriously, I might need a friend upgrade.”
Xenobia gasped. Her hand covering her mouth. “That’s just mean, Miss Every Man Is A Friend,” she grinned.
“Whatever. And it's not funny." It kind of was, but Kelby would never admit it. She relished her alone time—especially after years of living under a political microscope. “Who invites two complete strangers to somebody else's wedding?” Exasperation colored the words, most of it authentic. "Get rid of them."
Though Gordie had chatted with her a few times via the N2U Let's Get Social group, actual dates were optional, not an expectation. N2U was like Facebook, for the socially awkward dating crowd. Instead of individual hook-ups, subscribers joined groups to chat with others who shared similar interests.
"But Peyton is so funny," she wiggled her brows. "And he's cute too."
That was an understatement. The man with the unisex name looked runway model perfect. Kelby sighed and wiped the perspiration from her top lip. "X, there's a halo around his ring finger and his eyebrows are waxed.”
All of a sudden, her friend's face fell. "So, you're saying he's married, cheating, and metrosexual?”
Looking down at her friend, Kelby nodded. "At the very least."
Xenobia had taken the initiative to register them for a one-month free trial on the dating app, but her motives remained a mystery. They both seemed to be hiding in plain sight. Xenobia had her reasons for leaving the East Coast behind. Nobody found this hidden gem of one thousand, three-hundred-thirty-seven inhabitants by mistake. Everyone had a story of the tumultuous road that led them to Endurance. Distractions came in many forms. For X, it took the shape of completely wrong-for-her men, like Peyton and Gordie. The revelation led Kelby to think her friend had met Mr. Right and he'd screwed it up big time.
A wicked gleam flashed in Xenobia's eyes. "I'll take care of Peyton. You just smile real pretty till I get back."
"Why?" Kelby wondered what her friend had in store for their online Romeos.
“Because Gordie's headed this way with two paper plates full of potatoes," she giggled.
Kelby’s head shot up. “What?” she exclaimed.
"I hear wedding bells—wait, those might be dinner bells." A rueful smile spread across Xenobia's face.
Kelby had gotten herself out of one disastrous marriage. No way would she consider another. The move from the city to Endurance had been good for her recovery.
“Where is he?” Kelby demanded, prepared to run in the opposite direction.
Xenobia glanced around her. “There,” she pointed in the direction of the lake's edge.
Kelby pivoted on her heel, allowing her eyes to track the movement. Once her eyes hit the final destination she gasped. On Gordie's plate, loomed a tower of smoked meats, potatoes, sliced pies, and a hunk of wedding cake. Dear heaven, did he think he paid for an all-you-can-eat buffet? Quick, she snatched her friend’s hand out of the air. "Don't. He might get the idea I’m looking for him."
Too late for that. Gordie had a determined look on his face. Kelby wasn't sure if it had to do with reaching her or the physical exertion. If she started sprinting now, she could reach the parking lot before he crossed half the distance.
"Running won't work girlfriend," X warned, her tone amused. "That weird RoboCop© look he's giving you, says he likes the chase."
She'd taken one step when she remembered a pertinent fact. "Shoot, I rode in the wedding wagon." The walk back to her rented farmhouse wearing Cinderella’s slippers would take forty-minutes minimum in this heat. Just great. Resigned to her fate, she steeled her spine, prepared to give Gordie a gentle, but firm, not-in-a-bazillion-years talk. But fate had other plans. A familiar appealing scent reached her first—crisp, woodsy, and warm. Through lowered lashes she spotted a large pair of hand-stitched cowboy boots standing toe-to-toe with her.
Up… -up her eyes climbed surveying the sinewy territory. Hank Stewart with all his tall gorgeousness stood before her. He smiled at her, those perfect white teeth drawing her attention to his full mouth. In his early thirties, his crooked nose and chiseled features had a manly quality she found alarmingly attractive. They were friends, nothing more—not really. A glance here, a longer than necessary conversation when he attended parent-teacher functions, a touch there—yeah, friend stuff. His eyes, deep with whiskey notes met hers, and instantly the blood rushed in her veins. Friends. Good friends caused a rise in blood pressure. She’d read something about the phenomena on Facebook.
"Hey, Xenobia," he said, not looking away.
The deep timbre of his voice had Kelby’s mouth watering and a warning alert sounded in her head. Run away she thought.
Her friend, enjoying Kelby’s awestruck silence, laughed. "Hey, big fella. What's up with you?"
“Looking for Kelby." At the sound of her name, she looked up to find his rich brown eyes still directly on her.
“I need your help," he said rubbing a hand over his chin scruff.
Before she could answer, he reached for her hand, enclosing her fingers with his. Instead of leading her away, he waited, holding her.
Interesting,” Xenobia muttered. “If you two would excuse me.”
“Don’t leave,” Kelby said, her voice low and sharp.
“You spend time with your friend,” she chuckled at the last word.
Xenobia darted away without so much as a, call me. See, this was the reason Kelby hadn't objected to the N2U subscription. Posting, texting was safe. Touching, especially Hank Stewart, rendered her speechless. He stepped forward, his formidable size dwarfing her, his scent consuming her. Hank had been a good friend, a dedicated school volunteer, and a sexy bit of eye candy in her fantasies. Use words, she prompted.
"Sure" she heard herself say. “I’ll help if I can.” Xenobia-forgotten. Peyton-forgotten. Gordie-
As they cut through the crowd, she couldn’t help but notice his powerful build. His thighs looked like they could carry her for days. When his thumb stroked across her knuckles her brain short-circuited. Was he even aware of the caress? A single woman of twenty-eight should not be distracted by a man’s touch. But, this was Hank ‘Just A Friend’ Stewart. She spied his backside again. Man, did he do a pair of jeans justice.
“Caught you looking.” This came from said man with the tight buns.
Kelby’s head shot up to find Hank’s rich brown eyes alight with amusement. Not smiling, she gave him a disapproving glare that worked on her third-grade students. “A woman only gets
caught if she wants to, Hank Stewart.”
“So, I’ve heard,” he chuckled. “Do I get to keep you?”
Kelby’s heart rate surged. Why had Xenobia abandoned her? The man was quite possibly the only walking, talking, human smoothie, sweet and satisfying. She should probably change the subject.
“Where’s Elliott?” The ten-year-old, with his dark blond hair and caramel brown eyes, looked the mirror image of his father. In a decade, he’d be a heartbreaker.
Hank’s eyes crinkled at the corners as if he recognized her tactics.
“Rode in with Chadwick and Sherron. Now, back to you being caught by me.”
The town’s pediatrician and local cupcake baker were newlyweds. Chadwick had a two-year-old, James, from his previous marriage. Sherron seemed content with the family being just the three of them for the near future. Kelby understood. The decision to enter motherhood should include more than two warm bodies and a marriage contract. Contracts could be broken. She needed to remember smooth-talking men were trouble.
“Ah, Hank…where are you taking me?”
“Some of the wedding guests aren’t taking too kindly to the potato salad bar.”
Yep, she had overheard a group of the town gossips talking about the bowls full of peeled eggs, boiled Idaho spuds, and yellow mustard.
“You got something to do with the potato salad not being made?” she quizzed. “I mean I’ve got to put a potato, pickles, eggs, mayonnaise, and mustard on my tissue-thin plate, and then mix all this stuff together.”
“Owen left me in charge before driving Ivy over to the hospital in Pine Valley.”
The Tates, Ivy and Owen owned the No Limit Bar and Grille, a local meeting place for most folks, except Kelby. Too much information flowed through those walls, so she kept her eyes forward, her mouth shut, and sailed pass the doors when she came into town.
“You were his first choice,” she asked, disbelief in her tone. The picture of Hank with an apron and spatula didn’t quite gel with his rugged persona. He had a fantastic frame, not too lean, with broad shoulders, and a waist defined enough to know he worked hard and ate well. But she tended to glimpse him with No Limit takeout more than Ma Hildie’s grocery bags.
“Boy howdy, woman…you’ve got a wild tongue.”
“And?” she wiggled her arm in his grip. She couldn’t free herself. Three years of listening to a man chastise her had created a short fuse easily lit. “Let go,” she hissed.
“Hold on a minute.” He tugged her in his direction. “I happen to like your mouth,” he whispered. “Ivy went into labor before she could whip up the southern-style potato salad and the yeast rolls.”
Kelby quieted, but stiffened at the mention of the new baby. Everyone talked about the joy of parenthood, no one warned a woman of how inadequate she could feel when conception never happened. How a man who claimed to love grew to resent a wife’s inability to command a body not under her control.
“Kelby?” Hank had stopped walking. “What’s wrong?”
Shaking off the melancholy, she pasted on a smile. “Nothing,” she stammered. “You need me to help you with the deconstructed potato salad?”
He narrowed his eyes as if he knew she’d changed the subject on purpose. “That’d be nice. But if you have something more pressing—”
“Nope,” she interjected. “I’m all about the studs,” she blundered. That’s it, broadcast the internal dialogue, Juliet to Romeo. “I meant to say, spuds. Potato spuds.”
A slow grin spread across Hank’s face, lending to an almost boyish quality. “I volunteer for any stud work you might require.”
Good gravy, her insides melted faster than a Popsicle left on a picnic table. And, a feeling just as sappy sweet flooded her belly.
With a denial poised on the tip of her tongue, she opened her mouth to dispel any notion she might find him remotely attractive when a winded, but focused Gordie turned in her direction. No. No. No. Why in the Mary-had-a-little-lamb was this happening to her?
“Kiss me,” she blurted.
Hank’s brow creased. “Can I at least take you to dinner first?”
A fresh wave of perspiration bloomed on her skin and with it, a healthy dose of panic gripped her.
Grabbing him by the lapels, she yanked his face down to hers. “No,” she snapped. ‘Do it now.”
Cutting a glance at Gordie, she noticed he’d slowed his pace, but still advanced. Her stomach knotted. She blanked her mind, angled her head to the side, and pressed her mouth to Hank’s. That blankness had been a temporary state. Hank pulled her in close, and slowly coaxed her lips apart. When he slipped inside, she was a goner. The man knew how to stoke a woman’s fire.
The kiss quickly became harder, deeper, and God help her, sweeter. Move over hamburger. He tasted better than prime cut beef with a vintage wine. Like a hungry man offered his first solid meal, he devoured her. The stubble covering his chin felt rough against her cheek. She liked the contrast. His gruffness to her silky smooth. Somewhere in between her threading her fingers into his thick mane and his tongue tangling with hers, Kelby heard a few gasps, some cheering, and a chorus of whistles. Hank cupped the back of her head, and she could have sworn they both groaned in unison.
When the kiss ended, she tried to pull back, but a strong arm banded around her waist, anchoring her in place.
“Woman," he breathed, jagged and fast. "If you've been wanting to kiss me like that, you should have told me you loved me a long time ago.”
Love. She hesitated. Had she wanted the spark she felt whenever Hank was near to ignite? No. Maybe, but what if she chose the wrong man…again. Would her heart and self-esteem mount a full recovery? She had her priorities, and kissing Hank was nowhere on the list. But, on the other hand, the list was pretty short.
“Kelby?” He waited; his nose pressed into her neck.
Her stomach flipped. Why did he need an answer? In the eighteen months since her divorce, she'd managed to avoid anyone with muscles and a mustache. But Hank with his watchful eyes, easy smile, and generous nature had been impossible to ignore. As she'd gotten to know the town, she'd learned Hank was the kind of man she could fall for...if she was looking. Which, she wasn't.
“Well... I’m kind of all out of love,” she whispered. Maybe. Hank's kiss stirred a hunger her body had suppressed even before Bradford had demanded a divorce.
He chuckled, the sound rich and melodic compared to the noisy jumble surrounding them.
"You sound unsure, darling."
Only when his lips touched hers, Kelby decided. "I plead the Fifth," she said.
"Hmm," Hank said, "I'll take my chances all out of love too."
Kelby let herself enjoy the rush of surprise. The words held a different meaning coming from his insanely kissable lips. That arm around her waist, pulled her up closer to his chest, and she felt more than witnessed his pleasure at touching her. Before she realized what was happening, Hank captured her chin.
“I get to choose what happens next,” he growled, before covering her mouth with his.
Chapter 2
Hank loved weddings. And Endurance, a mountain town off California’s Highway 80, with its abundant supply of men, in particular single fathers had celebrated several in addition to Rui Conners’ nuptials. Owen Tate, Abel Burney, Chadwick Winter and Jose Primavera had all tied the matrimonial knot in the past year. The recent influx of eligible women had the men washing their hind parts, trimming beards, and clipping toenails on the regular. Every man in town would trade his favorite pick-up truck for a woman willing to wear his ring. Truth be told, Hank hoped to be next to the altar. Kelby Springfield had kissed him, not once, but twice. Boy howdy, his toes had curled in his boots the instant their mouths met. He felt ready to grab his guitar and join the country singer on the stage he and his best friend Luke built days before. The reception guests busied themselves with a steady stream of conversation, most of it town gossip, but all his senses thrummed with pure unrestrained energy.
Today had started with the usual routine. Woke up, used the next twenty minutes to get his son out of bed and in the shower before his dry cereal, milk and fruit hit the table. After that, the sitter arrived and Hank left for breakfast with Luke at No Limit's, and the carpool into work.
As the facilities maintenance supervisor at the University of California, Endurance he had to be available twenty-four-seven-plus one. As a kid, his pops had been a magician with his hands. Things broke-cars, appliances, farm equipment, toys-he fixed them. Hank paid attention. Years later he parlayed a skill that barely kept food on the table for a family of four into a career. Opportunities for mandatory overtime happened often, so weekends were deemed sacred time for him and Elliott. As a single dad he appreciated a job with a stable income and full benefits, but the flexibility came at a price. With his schedule, maintaining a long-term relationship with a woman ranked a close second with fantasy football and winning the lottery. The probability he would emerge a winner, slim to zilch.
When Kelby had arrived in Endurance at the beginning of the previous school year, Hank made his interest known. He tried for months to get Kelby's attention beyond the basic friendship. The woman had an automatic mute button attuned to his voice. But after that kiss, he knew every look, every conversation he'd engaged her in had finally worked. And he’d tried a lot.
From the PTA meetings with Elliott every time the school called. Even though there was nothing new to report. Elliott was a pretty good student. Hank washed cars, paid Ivy to bake sweet potato muffins, heck he even helped establish the town's first Girl Scout troop. A few guessed his attentions focused on Kelby, but no one commented since the troop did good work around the community. Luke’s daughter, Shiloh, especially enjoyed the girl power vibe. Whatever excuse he could concoct to drive over to the elementary school; he was there.
He’d marketed himself, but the indirect method hadn’t gotten him over the friendship zone hurdle. Directness had. And now, he breathed, he had her. He still held Kelby in his arms. Today, her normally full locks had been tamed into a soft twist that left a loose cascade of curls at her crown. A shimmery dusting covered her lids, while a vibrant peach colored her lips. Four other women wore the exact dress, but on Kelby the delicate lace accentuated her sway, understated, yet sexy. With her just right curves pressed up against his hardness it felt better than he ever imagined. It was like heaven.