by Cara Carnes
“Pineapple and coconut rum, but I’m not sure what else,” Rhea offered. She glanced up at Fallon. “These weren’t on the menu.”
“I may have asked her to make something you’d like,” he admitted.
Her pulse quickened when she peered into his eyes and tumbled into the intensity. She took another long pull of her drink and set the glass down. Heat spread in her insides as she took a step forward and leaned into the man’s personal space. His hand settled at her waist.
“You okay?” His hot breath fanned her neck.
“Dance with me,” she whispered. “I haven’t danced in forever.”
“Not exactly a country dancer, Doc.”
“Me neither. We’ll pretend we’re at a ball. Or we could salsa. I can dance.”
“Where did a laboratory beauty like you learn to salsa?” Fallon asked, curiosity evident in his gaze as he studied her.
“I-I did a stint in Argentina one summer,” Rhea said, opting for the casual rather than the deep-dive into the past she’d shared with very few. “So, what do you say?”
“Not sure I’m a salsa dancer either,” he commented as he looked down at her. He caressed her cheek and smiled. “For you, I’ll give it a shot.”
He turned and whispered something to Nolan, who chuckled. The man headed toward the jukebox.
“Let’s see if we can give those Mason boys some competition.” Fallon’s smile possessed enough fiery heat to energize a small country. Dazed, Rhea let the man escort her onto the dance floor. How long had it been since she’d danced? Months? No, years. The jukebox quieted a moment, then a quick-tempoed salsa played.
Oh boy.
“Aren’t you the overachiever,” she commented.
“Only know two dance styles good enough for you,” he whispered against her ear. “We’re only here to have fun. I’ve got you.”
Anticipation pounded within her pulse with his first confident step. The haze of misuse disappeared and Rhea trusted her training, the countless hours of lessons she’d endured back when her life had been simpler, when she’d been a young girl lost in the belief she had a choice about her future.
Surprise registered on Fallon’s face a moment when she not only kept up with his footwork but challenged him to take their dance to the next level. Salsa had been her favorite dance, even though it’d been far too spicy for her formative, teenaged years. She’d spent quite a few nights in clubs later in life, while in Argentina. Yeah, it’d been too long, but she tumbled into the music, surrendered to Fallon’s lithe prowess. Holy hotness, the man could dance. Her pulse quickened, and she missed a step when the cheers and hollers filled her ears.
“It’s only you and me, Doc,” he whispered in your ear. “I’ve got you.”
Rhea smiled as the sounds around her were drowned out by the light graze of his hands across her body. Nothing existed beyond the fiery but all-too-brief contact he established before twirling or spinning her.
A gasp escaped her when he lifted her off the floor, but she kicked out and continued the footwork in time to his when she landed a second later. He dipped her low. Her breath caught when his hot breath landed against the flesh at her throat.
The music ended. Loud cheers echoed around them as heat ran up her cheeks. Fallon laughed and lifted her to standing. His muscled arms wrapped around her, holding her protectively as their labored breaths fell in each other’s ears.
“Damn. You can move.”
“So can you,” she commented with a deep breath.
“Holy shit! I think I almost had a moment when you did the whole lift thing. I so want to learn to do that. Teach me.” Bree talked ten thousand miles an hour when she appeared at their side. “My turn.”
Fallon grinned but made no move to release his hold on Rhea. Her nipples tightened as awareness arced between them. Carnal need rolled through her as he ran a hand along her arm.
“Another night,” Fallon offered.
“Right. Right. I recognize that tone. You’re saving all the hot moves for my friend. That’s cool.” Bree nodded. “Come on. We need another drink.”
Rhea didn’t want another drink. She wanted…
“Come on. Let’s head back.”
“Okay.” She hoped that meant alone, but she understood tonight was about relaxation. It wasn’t personal for him. She was his charge—someone he wanted to ensure was okay after a rough day.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered as he guided her off the dance floor.
She nodded. Flustered that strangers were now watching her, she was relieved when Bree appeared at her side.
“That was so hot. I swear half the bar almost combusted,” Bree said, her voice louder than Rhea wanted.
“Ssh. Everyone can hear you.”
“Please. They aren’t blind. Everyone in here knows that man wants you. Bad.” Bree fanned herself. “Tell me he’s taking you somewhere alone where you can do the naked tango.”
“Bree!”
“Girlfriend, look at me.” Bree squeezed her hand. “Don’t fight it. Don’t bullshit me. I know you’re feeling something with him. All I’m saying is let it happen. Life’s too short. You never know when your last day’s gonna be—especially in the lives we lead every day.”
Wow. Concern rushed through Rhea as she studied her friend. “Sweetie.”
“No.” Bree shook her head. Fallon arrived. “You two go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“But—” Rhea looked back at her friend. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”
Bree’s bright smile calmed some of the worry. “I’m gonna want details.”
Fallon chuckled. “Let’s go, Doc.”
“Where are we going?” Rhea whispered against him.
“Somewhere not here,” he commented. “I’ve had a year’s dose of people tonight.”
“Me too.” She liked that he was a hermit like her.
One of the challenges she’d had the last few times she’d dated was that everyone always wanted to go out. Dinners. Movies. Parties. The list of socialization expectations had been endless and overwhelming. The few men she’d tried to date had ultimately resented her work and hermit lifestyle.
A cool breeze greeted her when they stepped out of the crowded bar. Although it’d been mostly empty when they’d arrived, word had gotten around that the Mason men were there. At least, that’s what Rhea assumed since the majority of folks who showed afterward were scantily clad women who’d drifted past their tables repeatedly.
“Can everyone get back if we take a vehicle for ourselves?” Rhea asked.
Fallon clicked the lock open. The headlights flashed on. He reached around her and opened the passenger door. Both arms at her waist, he lifted until her ass hit the seat. She grasped his shoulders even though she’d settled.
“You’re killing me here, Doc.”
“I am?” How was she killing him?
He ran his hand through her hair and dragged her down until their lips almost touched. “You’re a drug I need a hit of in the worst way. Fucking swear I’ll die if I can’t taste you.”
Rhea licked her lips. Fallon groaned.
“Fuck it.” Fallon grasped the back of her head and wrapped his other arm around her waist.
Pleasure sparked through her when their lips collided in a carnal fusion. Half on and half off the seat, she stifled a moan as their bodies impacted. She thrust herself against him and squirmed closer. Fiery heat spread through her as he licked along the seam of her mouth until she surrendered to the onslaught.
He deepened the kiss in a slow, demanding exploration. His tongue darted along hers in a sensuous glide that hardened her nipples and shot awareness between her legs. Surprise registered in Rhea as the kiss continued, turning slow. His hands remained locked in position.
Why wasn’t he groping her?
“Damn.” Fallon took a deep breath and rested his forehead against hers. “You taste better than I imagined.”
“It’s the mints,” she offered lamely.
Really? The mints. Her entire body tingled. No, she craved his touch. She wanted far more than a kiss from Fallon Graves.
Mints?
The sexy, molten smile appeared. Her heart skipped a beat.
“It’s way more than the mints,” he commented.
“I steal Ellie’s butterscotches.” Shock registered in her. “Wait. I never said that. Erase it from your memory.”
“Your thieving ways are safe with me,” he whispered.
Awareness returned to her slowly as they remained locked against one another—her pressed between him and the vehicle’s seat. Her bottom rested on…
His thigh.
Damn. Mortification burned her skin. She’d humped his leg like a dog in heat from a kiss.
A kiss.
Shit.
Eyes closed, she willed the awkwardness to disappear.
“Look at me.” When she didn’t obey, he clasped her cheek. Stroked along her lips.
The light graze spun a heady sense of security. She wasn’t the naive young girl she’d once been. Sure, she’d never been a sex goddess, but men like Fallon Graves weren’t the shallow assholes she’d dated in college.
“Don’t hide from me,” he said.
“I’m not.”
“You’re locking down.”
She was. She totally was. The fact he’d noticed surprised her into silence. A kiss didn’t mean anything, not to consenting adults.
“We’ve danced around this attraction awhile now,” he commented.
Her breath froze when their gazes collided. “I-I wasn’t sure you…”
“Since the day we met outside Marshall’s office,” he admitted. “I knew you’d be trouble the moment you crowbarred your way into having my back.”
“I didn’t crowbar you,” she lied.
The sexy grin returned, but he remained silent. He cupped her face with both hands. He tensed when she touched his face. She pulled her hand back.
“Touch me, Doc. I like when you touch me,” he admitted.
“You tensed.” She cocked her head. “You avoid physical contact. It’s one of the first things I noticed about you.”
“I’m gonna fuck up a lot. Consider yourself warned. The life I’ve led, the things I do, I’ve lived one day at a time. Alone.”
“The lone wolf,” Rhea whispered. “That’s what Vi called you.”
“She’s right.” Fallon swallowed. “I want you, but we’ve gotta take this slow. There’s a lot of shit going down, and I’m not…”
He closed his eyes and drew away. Rhea grabbed his neck and repeated his earlier words. “Don’t hide from me.”
“I’m crazy for pursuing this. You deserve better than me.”
“I’ll decide what I deserve, Fallon Graves. Don’t ever put yourself down.” She studied his eyes when they opened. “We go slow. Eyes open.”
Fallon had worked as a contractor for hire most of his career from what Mary said. So had Jud, but he’d had his family that he’d maintained contact with through the years. Did Fallon have family? The question hung on her tongue, but she didn’t give it voice. Unease tightened his entire body as they remained locked in the semi embrace that wasn’t quite an embrace.
“We should get you home. You need sleep,” he commented.
“So do you.” Rhea sighed heavily. “Thank you for tonight. I didn’t realize how wound up I was.”
“No matter how intense things get, Doc, don’t forget you aren’t alone. We’ll get through whatever comes our way because that’s what we do.” Determination deepened his voice. “Don’t bottle up whatever you’re feeling.”
“I’m not.”
“You giving it to Bree and the girls?”
Some. “They have enough going on.”
“That bastard played you. Betrayed you. That shit cuts deep.”
“I can’t make this about me, Fallon. The fallout from this could be catastrophic. I need to stay focused on neutralizing whatever he created. I don’t have time to bemoan the fact Stan betrayed me.”
“You can’t bury it forever,” Fallon said. “It’ll eat you up inside and fester. You need to talk with someone.”
“I know. I will.”
“Good.” He kissed her mouth quickly and hoisted her back into the seat. “Let’s get you home. Are you hungry?”
“I could eat,” she admitted.
Fallon grinned. “Then let’s get you fed.”
Rhea expected Fallon to take her to The Arsenal’s mess hall. It was almost midnight on a weekday. Nothing would be open in small town Texas this late. Would it?
The drive to Resino had been filled with laughter as they rifled through their playlists and razzed each other’s musical preferences. Truth told, Fallon’s music was cool as hell. Eclectic like hers. He didn’t have a problem adding classical to the same playlist as metal.
The fifteen-mile drive had ended too soon. Happiness filled Rhea as Fallon turned the vehicle down a narrow side road just west of the four-way stop. Weird. Had she ever been that direction on the highway?
“Where are we going?” Rhea asked as he crossed a set of railroad tracks. Resino had a railroad track? Wow.
Fallon made a hard right onto an even smaller road. Gravel crunched beneath the truck’s massive tires as it slowed in front of a small, white house. Fallon situated the vehicle behind two others along the right side.
“What is this?” Rhea asked as he put the truck into park.
“Heaven,” he answered with a laugh. “The guys and I got back from a really shitty mission a while back. We weren’t in the headspace to handle the mess hall but needed grub. We’d accepted we’d likely have to drive into Nomad, but figured we’d scope out Resino, just in case something was available other than Bubba’s.”
Wow. Rhea wanted to know what mission he was talking about, but she didn’t want to douse the happiness blazing between them with bad memories. They’d had loads of those for too long.
“One of the Masons had mentioned this place, said it was heaven in a paper bag. I swore they were nuts, but my team and I piled into a truck and drove around until we found this spot.”
“It’s a restaurant.”
“Nah. Tia Eva. That’s all I know, and that I earned after coming here too many times to admit.” Fallon chuckled. “You’ll see. She serves what she’s in the mood to cook in her kitchen. You don’t backtalk and never ask for modifications. You take it the way she makes it, or you’re banned from coming back. Sanchez learned that lesson the hard way.”
Rhea chuckled. “I think I heard Kamren and Riley talking about this place.”
“It’s apparently a local haunt they don’t share with outsiders.”
Warmth spread through her. “You sure you should be showing it to me? What if she takes an instant dislike for me and you’re banned from heaven for an eternity?”
“It’s worth the risk to give you heaven, Doc.” He drove forward when one of the vehicles left.
Enthralled, Rhea watched as an elderly woman hung out of a waist-high window. Her rapid speaking tumbled into the vehicle from the window Fallon had rolled down. An old song from Night Ranger drifted from the truck’s speakers.
The woman—presumably Tia Eva—pushed a wooden board with… “Is that a fly swatter?”
Fallon chuckled. “Yeah, and she’s not shy about using it if you get sassy.”
Okay then. Rhea laughed. “Have you been swatted?”
“No, but Sanchez has. Repeatedly. Apparently, Tia Eva’s youngest daughter helps out when it gets busy. Sanchez flirted. Big. Mistake.”
“Oh boy.” Rhea shook her head. “There’s a reason the Masons warned all of you not to dip into the local ink.”
“He’s learned his lesson.” Fallon smirked. “Now he’s gotta get his food through someone else.”
Fallon pulled the truck up and parked, turning off the loud engine. The elderly woman opened the window and leaned forward. Her salt and pepper hair was pulled back in a long braid that directed attention to h
er weathered face, which broke out with a smile.
She and Fallon spoke in Spanish for longer than Rhea expected. Fallon knew Spanish?
The woman laughed, leaned deeper out of the window and patted Fallon’s cheek. She looked at Rhea and offered a wider smile. “He’s a good man.”
“He is,” Rhea said with a smile.
“Bueno. Espérate.” The woman disappeared.
“She likes you.”
“She likes everyone from The Arsenal, except Sanchez.” Fallon smiled. “Nolan and Marshall helped rebuild her house during Marshall’s senior year after it burned down. Their father and Brant Burton’s did a fundraiser.”
“Wow. I always wondered what it was like living in a small town.”
“You didn’t?”
“City born and raised. Boston,” Rhea said. “You?”
“I jumped around a lot. Nowhere stuck much. Longest stint was in Chicago.”
Stint. Unease pricked her insides as her gut clenched. No one described a happy upbringing as a stint. Rhea wished she could dig, find out more. But tonight was about relaxation, forgetting the worries they faced at The Arsenal.
Tia Eva returned. The flyswatter got to work moving a plywood plank forward as she and Fallon chatted like they were the best of friends. She took the money and then passed four brown paper bags. How much food had he ordered?
Her stomach rumbled as the scents wafted from the seat between them where Fallon had set the food. Fallon laughed and continued talking as the woman returned with two Styrofoam cups and passed them.
Whatever she said at the end shifted the conversation from friendly to deeper. Rhea really needed to learn Spanish. Fallon chuckled when she leaned forward and patted his cheek one final time before he turned the vehicle on and pulled away.
The overhead speakers rang as they turned out. Who the heck would be calling that late?
“Yeah,” Fallon answered.
“Drinks? How the heck did you get in deep enough for her to hand over drinks, Graves?” Riley’s voice boomed from the speakers.
Fallon laughed. “That’s the first time.”
“Right. Nolan and Marshall get drinks, but none of the rest of us do. They get drinks ’cause they carried her mangy mutt out of the fire way back. I’m gonna figure out what you did, Graves.”