by Tessa Layne
"Thanks," she murmured, staring back and not moving.
The corner of his mouth pulled up. "I like your apron."
"It's Dottie's."
"You should have one, too."
"Why? So you could steal a kiss?"
The air felt heavy and thick, full of unspoken desires. He... wanted. So much. In spite of all the warnings, in spite of the danger it represented for the shred of hope left for his career. For the first time in his adult life, he wanted more than physical release. He wanted to know, really know this fiery complex woman in front of him. Foolishly, he wanted to be what made her smile. And hell, yes, he wanted to feel her moving beneath him. "Would you let me?"
Her eyes fluttered down and a coy half-smile crossed her face. "If you asked," she murmured, blushing furiously.
"Then it wouldn't be stealing."
She glanced up through her lashes, smile widening. Half shy, half sex kitten, fully adorable. He liked this side of her just as much as the sassy, sarcastic side. More, because in his mind, he'd earned it, passed some kind of a test that allowed him to breach a level of her defenses. He stepped into her space, crooking a finger under her chin, heart beating wildly because he wasn't the kind of guy that even needed to ask. He didn't think she'd say no, but the possibility hung over him, making his stomach tighten in anticipation just like before he caught a big wave, or crested a rollercoaster. "May I?"
"Someone might walk in."
His voice dropped. "Let 'em." He didn't give a flying fuck if someone walked in. Nothing would change. They'd already been spotted kissing. Sterling, Travis, and Weston would take him out back for "a talk", and life would go on. He had absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain.
Her nod was so subtle, he'd have missed it if he wasn't looking, hoping for it. He absolutely didn't miss the flash of pure sexual heat in her eyes. He leaned down, tentatively pressing his mouth to hers. A question that was answered with a tiny sigh and an instant opening. He questioned again, this time with the tip of his tongue. Gently flicking across her lip, tasting the corner of her mouth. Her hand came to his arm, clutching his bicep as she softened and sighed again, responding to the slip of his tongue with a gentle rub. Heat flooded him. He dropped a hand to her hip, just holding her, steadying her as he reacquainted himself with her mouth, learning with every probe of his tongue what she liked and how he liked it.
Just as he thought to back her up and pin her against the counter, the timer sounded with an annoying ding.
Cecilia pulled back, a little dazed and a lot sexy with her mouth plumped from his kisses. Damn, he could kiss the woman for hours and not tire of it. She blinked rapidly and let out a husky laugh. "Saved by the bell, I guess."
Cock-blocked by the bell was more like it.
"Izzie and Cat will be here soon if you need to go help elsewhere," Cecilia said as she pulled the biscuits from the oven. "I can manage until they get here."
"I can help until you kick me out," he said gruffly. She was more than capable of managing, but he'd use any excuse to stay in her orbit.
She shot him a sly look. "Be careful what you offer, cowboy."
"Bring it."
She smirked, eyes sparkling. "Fine, you want to help? Grab an apron." She raised a brow in challenge and cocked her head in the direction of the wall where a blue checked apron with ruffles hung.
"You think I'm too manly for ruffles?" he grinned as he backed toward the wall, grabbing the apron. "If you think that's all it takes to run me off, you've got another thing coming, sweetheart." He braced himself for a sharp retort, but it didn't come.
Her eyes lit as she crossed her arms. She was trying so hard not to smile and it only served to make her look cuter. "I dare you to take out the sandwiches now."
So she wanted to tangle? He'd play. "What's in it for me if I do?" The front of the apron was too snug, and the ties barely fit around his back. He didn't need a mirror to know he looked ridiculous.
She lifted a shoulder, and looked away with a little smile. "My gratitude?"
"It better be a lot more than your gratitude, darlin'," he poked again as he crossed back to where she stood. Anything to get a rise from her.
"Bargaining with kisses, now?"
"I'll bargain with whatever you like." He stared at her until she met his eyes. His stomach gave a low roll at the naked emotion on her face. Part hopeful, part hungry, part scared. An uncomfortable ache tightened his chest, and the urge to duck out rose through him. There were so many reasons why he should bolt, starting with Sterling, Weston, and Travis. He didn't do emotions. He didn't know how. But the look on her face - he recognized it. It had been years since he'd allowed himself to feel anything close to the mix of emotions showing there, but he knew them. And a long-buried part of himself, a piece of himself he thought was gone for good, sparked to life. He swallowed as the tightness closed his throat. Heat raced up his neck and he cleared the prickle in his throat. "I'll take the sandwiches." He turned and grabbed the plates before he did something stupid like declare himself. He'd known her less than a week, spent even less time with her. He had no business, no right, to the feelings ricocheting through him.
The catcalls and whistles began as soon as his feet hit the grass. "Yeah, yeah," he hollered back, placing the plates on the long set of tables festooned with flowers and lace tablecloths.
"Looks like CiCi already has you whipped, man," teased Tony.
Something snapped in him. He spun on a heel and stalked to where Tony and Robbie stood enjoying a beer with Jaxon, hot enough he could feel sweat pooling on the back of his neck. "You have a problem?" he said tersely. "She's in there by herself, buried in food. Why don't you get off your asses and help?"
Tony and Robbie exchanged a startled look. "Sorry, man," Robbie said. "We were just fucking with you."
"No harm, no foul," added Tony. "CiCi can be... a lot." His eyes suddenly went wide at something behind him. "Holy shit, who is that?" he asked, grabbing Robbie by the arm. "Dibs on the turquoise dress, man."
Trace swiveled around to see where Tony was staring. Three women were making their way across the lawn. He recognized Jeanine Turner and Izzie, Robbie's sister. But he'd never seen the woman in turquoise walking between them.
Robbie stiffened. "That's my sister, asshole," he growled.
Tony looked confused. "Catalina?" He looked to Robbie for confirmation. "That's Catalina?"
"Wait," Trace interjected, as shocked as Tony. "Your sister with the glasses and overalls who was knee-deep in the mud hunting for frogs at Resolution Ranch the other day?" Trace hardly recognized her.
"Yes, that's her," Robbie confirmed. "She's a herpetologist," he said with a distinct note of pride before turning his attention to Tony with a glare. "Don't even think about it," Robbie spit. "Touch her and you die."
Trace snorted. "I'm sure she appreciates your overprotective streak." He turned to Tony. "Put your tongue back in your mouth and come help me get the food out." He headed back to the kitchen, not really caring if they followed or not, and still irked by the way they'd talked about Cecilia.
Cecilia shot him a grateful look when Tony and Robbie followed him into the kitchen. "Can you guys take out the pies? Basically everything on that table needs to go out, except the potato salad." She turned back to the biscuit batter, which seemed to have grown in Trace's absence.
"How many of these are you making?"
"As many as I can in the next hour," she said, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead, only managing to smear more flour there.
"Anything else I can do?"
She shook her head. "Just keep clearing space so I can put the trays down to cool."
Trace swiped a potholder from the counter and took the tray from her hands, holding it out of harm's way as he leaned in to place a kiss at her temple. "I'll collect my thank you kisses later," he murmured.
Cecilia rolled her eyes, making a noise of disbelief. "Out."
Chapter Fourteen
"I
think everything's ready," Izzie said, holding out a glass of bubbles.
Cecilia accepted it and sagged against the counter. "Thanks for your help. I couldn't have finished without you and Cat."
"Really?" Izzie smirked and took a sip, giving her a knowing glance. "It looked like Trace and the guys took care of most of it before we arrived."
Cecilia flushed. Trace had been surprisingly helpful. And sweet.
"Ah-ha," Izzie exclaimed placing her empty glass on the counter. "You kissed him again, didn't you? I knew it. I could tell the second I saw the look you gave each other when he finished."
Cecilia shook her head, cheeks flaming. "It's nothing."
"You're such a shitty liar. Why don't you admit he's growing on you?"
She made a point of studying the bubbles in her flute. "Sooo... maybe some of what you said the other day sunk in. But that doesn't mean anything's going anywhere," she rushed to add. "It can't really be anything more."
"Oh, it could be alot more, Ceece. It could be whatever you want it to be."
"Coming from the girl who's been pining after Jaxon Boyd for fifteen years," she retorted, giving her best friend the stink eye."
Now it was Izzie's turn to blush. "That's different."
"How so?" Cecilia finished her glass and set it on the counter next to Izzie. "I haven't seen Jaxon dating anyone recently."
Izzie made a face. "It's... we're just friends."
"Well, if you ever want to talk about it." Izzie had always been tight-lipped about her friendship with Jaxon. It seemed like there'd been a thing between them when they were teenagers, after Jax had survived leukemia, but even then wild horses couldn't have dragged it out of Izzie. And Cecilia had been more concerned with her latest cause than with boys, so she'd respected Izzie's wishes and hadn't dug too deep.
Izzie looked over to the clock that hung by the kitchen table. "Looks like it's about time to go sit down. Let's go find Catalina. With my luck, she'll be hunting frogs in the dress I brought over."
Cecilia removed the apron she'd borrowed from Dottie and hung it on the wall. "Sister makeover? She looks beautiful."
"Thanks. It was a battle to get her to try contacts. Here, you've got a flour smudge. Trace missed a spot," Izzie teased as she wiped the flour off Cecilia's cheek then made for the back door.
Cecilia followed. "Is my hair okay? I haven't had a chance to check."
"You look perfectly kissable," Izzie said as they made their way to the seats in the front yard. "I'm sure Trace will keep your dance card full."
"Do you think he can dance?"
"Well I know he and Robbie and Tony have hung out at the Trading Post, so yes. I'm sure he can dance."
So Trace had been to the Trading Post? Cecilia's stomach clenched. She hated the Trading Post. Even all these years later, it still brought up ugly memories.
"I recognize that look on your face, Ceece. I know you hate it, but it's not like it was. Not the way you remember it. And everyone hangs out there if they want to go play pool or dance. You can't avoid it forever. Especially now that you're back in town."
"I know, I know." Cecilia waved a hand and gazed skyward. "I just swore I'd never step foot in there again."
Izzie gave her a stern look. "CiCi. You were fifteen! Give yourself a break. The grown-up you is allowed to release the teenage you from a stupid promise. A bunch of us are heading over there after the wedding reception since Mike closed the brewery today. You should join us."
Izzie was right. The only thing still the same about the Trading Post was its name. Jeanine's uncle had bought it ten years ago and had completely overhauled it. It was nothing like the seedy dive bar she remembered. "I'll think about it."
"I'm sure Trace will be there," she wiggled her fingers.
"I'll think about it," Cecilia repeated firmly as she followed Izzie down a row of chairs to take a seat next to Catalina. "Everything okay, Cat?" she asked as she sat down. Catalina nodded without looking up, hands twisting in her lap. Something was definitely wrong.
"What happened to your dress?" Izzie asked her sister gently, giving Cecilia a look that said go easy.
Cecilia gave a tiny nod back. Catalina was an odd bird. Sweet as pie, and devoted to her research above everything else. Izzie and even Robbie had been fiercely protective of her growing up, and Catalina had tagged along with the two of them most places, which was fine with her, because Mariah had tagged along, too. It had worked out perfectly, because Mariah and Izzie were much more social than she and Catalina. Nobody really understood Catalina, but she understood her better than most - the need to retreat when things got crazy, the devotion to study. Catalina might bury her nose in biology papers, but Cecilia's bedroom was a library of nonfiction.
Catalina looked stricken. "I stopped by the barn to say hello to Aloysius who was sunning herself on the rocks because it's mating season, and, and, Tony thought she was a rattlesnake, and I tripped because I'm not used to these fancy shoes, and then I yelled at him for scaring Aloysius. And my eyeballs hate these contacts." Her voice rose and she looked ready to cry.
Cecilia bit her lip to keep from laughing. Izzie gave her another stern glance, even though her eyes were twinkling too. "I'm sure Tony was just trying to help."
"Well, he shouldn't. I was fine. And now I've ruined your dress."
"It's just a little dirt." Izzie wiped at the spot. "See? Good as new. And your eyeballs will get used to the contacts if you just give them a chance."
Behind Cecilia a throat cleared. "May we join you ladies?"
Cecilia swiveled, looking up and into the dark eyes of a man holding a baby decked out in pink frills. For a split second her heart sank. She'd half-hoped Trace would find her.
"CiCi, is that you?" The woman behind him asked excitedly.
"Millie?" Cecilia stood and reached a hand behind the man. "Gosh, it's been ages."
"I heard you're back."
Cecilia chuckled. "News always travels fast. I've only been home a short time. And is this your family?" She eyed the big man with the baby tucked in his arm. If not for the softness in his eyes as he stared at his little daughter, the man would have been frightening.
"Yes, this is my husband, Jason Case, and our baby Sara Anne."
Jason nodded, but kept his focus on his daughter. "Aww, congratulations. She's beautiful." Cecilia ran a finger across the baby's hand. "Hi you sweet thing." Sara Anne gurgled and flailed her tiny arm. "She has your eyes Millie."
Catalina tapped her. "The wedding's about to start." They all sat, and Cecilia scanned the crowd, looking for Trace, but not seeing him. Catalina leaned in. "They're all standing at the back, in case you were wondering." Cecilia held in a laugh. Of course Catalina would know where everyone was. She never missed a thing.
The wedding, of course, was beautiful, albeit punctuated with Catalina's quiet commentary. The groom was the brother of the wife of Brodie Sinclaire, who the bride, Dottie's daughter Lexi, had worked with on the east coast, and they had both run for Mayor, but somehow Dottie had won. Cecilia could barely keep up with the details, and there was no way she'd remember half of what Catalina told her, but she loved it just the same.
As soon as the wedding finished, Cecilia excused herself and hurried to the banquet table where she pulled all the coverings from the food. It took her ten minutes to return to the kitchen thanks to so many friends and acquaintances welcoming her home and inquiring about her mother and grandmother's big adventure. "Yes, they're having a lovely time. Yes, it's good to be back, too. No, I haven't made any plans yet. Yes, I'm considering a career shift." Euphemism for I got sacked and I'm figuring shit out. The downside of Prairie - she couldn't make a move without everyone knowing about it. By the time she made it back to the quiet haven of the kitchen, her face hurt from smiling. She reached for the pink apron and set to work piling the cooled biscuits onto empty trays, and spooning jars of strawberry preserves and whipped cream into chilled bowls. Back and forth to the table she went, bringing new food,
clearing empty serving platters, and setting up a wash station at the sink. Outside, the music started, and at intervals, cheers went up, she assumed from tossing the bouquet and garter.
She paused only once, to pour herself a second glass of bubbly, helping herself to the bottle in the fridge. The bubbles sparkled against her tongue as she let out a tired sigh, pushing the shooting pain from her feet out of her mind. She'd soak them in Epsom salts when she returned home. "So this is where you've been hiding?" Trace called from the doorway. Without looking backward, she raised her glass.
"Just taking a little break," she said brusquely, suddenly feeling shy. Big events like this exhausted her.
"Come out and dance," he cajoled.
"Too many dishes." She finished her glass and set it on the counter, returning to the sink. "I don't want Dottie to have to take care of clean-up today."
"But you don't have to do this by yourself."
"Oh, I don't mind." She didn't. Truly. "It gives me time to think. You go have fun with the guys."
He made a noise in his throat and muttered something under his breath that sounded a whole lot like damn stubborn woman, and crossed the kitchen, appearing beside her tying the blue checked apron behind him.
"I'm fine, really," she protested, pulse jumping at his proximity.
"That pile of dishes is a tall as you are," he growled, taking a towel.
"I don't need rescuing. Go enjoy yourself."
"Nobody said anything about rescuing." He took the soapy plate from her hand, rinsed it, dried it, and walked it to the table. "But I will make comments about women who are too stubborn to ask for help." He took another plate from her.
"I don't need help."
"How long have you been on your feet?" he demanded.
Too long. "Awhile," she hedged, handing him another plate.
He made a disapproving sound as he took it, and when he returned from the table braced his arms on either side of her, caging her in. His breath fell warm against her temple and a delicious shiver rolled through her. "Hmm. I'm guessing your feet are on fire right about now."