Truth or Dare

by Anne Conley

  “Annette,” she whispered, her eyes roaming his face, landing on his lips as if she didn’t believe what had just happened. She was just as affected as he was. Annette. An elegant name for an elegant woman. She clutched the stem of her margarita glass nervously. She was probably out of his league, a woman like Everly who liked things a certain way, her men to be a certain status. That’s what her name said, but her skin spoke of sunshine. Her freckles lit up a carefree naïveté that sang to him of walks on the mountainside and nights by the fire.

  “You want to get out of here?” He forced his hands to stay still, but they twitched, wanting badly to roam the landscape of her body.

  “I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” she whispered.

  “Boyfriend?” He leaned back a bit, wanting to kick himself for poaching another man’s territory, but if she was taken, why hadn’t she said something?

  She shook her head. “No, business acquaintance.”

  “Can I get your number then? I’d like to see you again.” He’d be damned if he was leaving here without a way of contacting her. She shook her head again, and he deflated a little inside.

  “Give me yours.” Her low voice spurred him on. Jude grabbed her cell phone on the table in front of her and put in his number.

  “You’ll call me?”

  “You said you’d buy me a drink and leave.” She twisted her hands in front of her, showing her discomfort. He’d thought they were beyond that.

  Hurt, without understanding why, he nodded. Hadn’t she felt the spark? Did her world not just change in the instant their lips had touched? As he watched her look pointedly at her lap, avoiding him, he realized she probably wouldn’t call. She was classy. A lady who probably didn’t do one-night stands.

  Sure. This was a great idea. He got Simone off his back by kissing her, he’d buy her a drink, and go home. He didn’t want any more games tonight.

  Jude affected a rough timbre to his voice to mask his frustration. “Fine.” Not completely understanding why he was so pissed, he prowled over to the bar, ordered her another margarita, and stalked out the door. He was done with tonight.

  Chapter Two

  Annette stared at the fresh margarita suddenly sitting in front of her. The waitress had brought it by with a wink and a smile, but Annette had barely noticed her. She was still reliving that kiss.

  Her lips tingled where he’d touched her, she could still feel his hands on her body, and his scent was still in her nostrils. She tickled the stem of her drink, not wanting to wash his flavor out of her mouth.

  Annette didn’t do things like kissing strangers, but as she’d looked deep into the beseeching golden eyes of the man as he pled his case, she’d reminded herself of why she was here.

  She’d moved to Pamona Gulch to start over. Annette came from a small town where everyone knew her and had high expectations of her. After breaking up with her boyfriend, she’d left to make her mark on the world. As high as Frankston, Texas’s expectations were, hers were higher.

  She was no longer Annette Young, soon-to-be engaged to Luke Holder and have babies and teach elementary school art classes. She was now Annette Young, soon-to-be successful artist of her own right.

  That’s why she was here. The hunky guy with amazing hair and too many muscles to count was just an added bonus.

  She sighed, wondering if she’d made a mistake in allowing the kiss. He hadn’t seemed like the type of guy to kiss her if she said no, and that’s part of the reason she’d said yes. But he’d seemed eager for more, and Annette was reluctant.

  She wasn’t even sure why she’d kissed him, except the idea of kissing a hot stranger in a bar had excited her in ways she had never experienced—not with her boring past in her boring town. Pamona Gulch was proving to be more than just a place to make her mark. She had come here to pursue her profession, not get romantic.

  In fact, that’s why she was here. This morning she’d been on the square, hawking her paintings to the tourists, when a gallery owner had approached her. Drake Branton. He was meeting her here tonight to talk about a show at his gallery.

  Things were happening so fast for Annette, her head swam with the possibilities, even though she tried desperately to not let her hopes get too high. Afraid of disappointment, she didn’t want her world to come crashing down around her.

  Instead, she’d kissed an attractive man who sent her world into a swirling chaos of sensations. She had to get that kiss out of her mind. The erotic kiss that didn’t promise romance. Nope. It promised pleasure and sweat and fucking.

  Giving in to temptation, she woke up her phone and looked at his phone number. Jude Walker. The name suited her impressions of him. Mysterious. Dangerous.

  He’d wanted more, and she was grateful for her appointment because, Lord have mercy, so did she.

  Now wasn’t the time. Annette touched her lips at the memory of his mouth on hers, kissing her hungrily. The kiss had started out like a regular kiss, one you’d give somebody you didn’t know that well, but it had morphed into something truly spectacular.

  “Annette?”

  Her eyes snapped up to the man standing in front of her, holding his hand out to her. Drake. She shook her head to snap herself out of her reverie. Standing, she offered her hand to him, but he took it and kissed the back of it.

  “Drake, it’s nice to see you again.” His dark eyes smoldered over the top of her hand, where his lips were still lingering. She wondered absently if it was an affectation. Some artsy types were a little over the top. His carefully tamed, slicked-back hair spoke business though, as well as his impeccably tailored suit. The whole package seemed a little smarmy, but Annette was new in town and didn’t know exactly how things worked here. She wasn’t about to make waves.

  “You look gorgeous. Please, sit.” He ushered her back into her chair, pushing it in under her knees before seating himself in the chair Jude had vacated ten minutes before. He grinned at her, a charming smile that showed off even, white teeth. He was a nice-looking man with light-brown hair and mahogany-colored eyes. He was taller than Jude, but thinner, his muscles leaner.

  “Thank you,” she acknowledged, pleased he hadn’t knocked the chair into the backs of her knees. He moved with a grace that spoke of athletic agility.

  “Let me get you another drink. We’re celebrating tonight.” Drake smiled as he spoke, motioning to a waitress to come take their order.

  “Um, no thanks. This one’s my second.” She hadn’t even touched it yet. “What are we celebrating?”

  “Your show, of course.” His eyes twinkled with his news, but everything about Drake made Annette feel like he’d done all this before. He was practiced, at ease with himself. Sure, he was excited, but she didn’t think it was because of his “news”. She played along, however, hoping for the best.

  “Oh! Really? Oh my gosh. Thank you!” Annette gushed, unable to contain her excitement. It was really happening just like she’d wanted it to. She completely ignored the tendril of dread forming in her gut. Sure, it was happening, but wasn’t it too good to be true? Too soon? She hadn’t gotten her chops yet, hadn’t had any hard knocks, no stack of rejections. Annette shoved that thought aside and continued smiling at Drake.

  “You know what? Let’s get some champagne. What do you say?” he cajoled.

  Well, he was letting her have a show at his gallery. She would play along with his little game, see where it took her. When it got to be too much, she’d gracefully bow out. That’s how they did things in the big leagues, right? Annette hoped so.

  Chapter Three

  “Dude, you’re not gonna like this.” Zane’s locker was next to Jude’s, and they were both checking their gear at the beginning of their shift. When seconds counted, firefighters had to make sure nothing was tangled and everything was ready to go. It was a soothing ritual that helped Jude get his ga
me face on.

  “What?” Curious, in spite of his friend’s insistent tone, Jude glanced at him with an eyebrow raised.

  “Last night, after you left, chickadee cozied up with Drake and a bottle of champagne. For hours. They laughed and talked, and he was putting his signature moves on her.”

  “So?” His words belied the sudden rage surging inside him. “I kissed her on a dare. Don’t even know her name.” The words were nonchalant, but the emotions inside were anything but, which was evidenced by his slamming locker door. Jealousy didn’t even explain it. Red curled at his vison’s edges and Jude clenched his hand into a fist, wanting to strike out at anything.

  “Just thought you’d like to know.” Zane shrugged before heading out of the locker room.

  Joey perked up from the locker across from them and jumped into the conversation. “Hey, you want to go out with Simone and me again after this shift?”

  “I’ll pass.” He wasn’t about to put himself through that again. He turned to follow Zane, presumably to the kitchen. It was his day to cook, and he was fairly good at it, so Jude was interested.

  In the kitchen, Zane was going through grocery bags with a couple of guys watching, wondering what he was about to make. The kitchen was adjacent to the common room, separated by a pass-through window. The common area had a pool table, TV, couches, and a table most of them used for cards and such. Both rooms could hold most of the occupants of the station, and both rooms were enormous.

  “You still putting your cabin in the auction Friday? I might bid on it this year,” Hollywood said. Jude thought Hollywood was okay. He wasn’t his favorite rookie on the squad, but he seemed to know his shit, even if he was cocky about it. Currently, he was pawing through bags while Zane would pointedly take the bag away as soon as he touched it. Zane didn’t love Hollywood.

  “Good luck.” That was another thing about Drake that made Jude crazy. He always bid on Jude’s cabin—more often than not, for some fucking conquest of his. Drake was a douchebag, always had been. Jude’s mom and Drake’s mom were friends, and they’d grown up together. Unfortunately, Drake had seen everything with him as a contest, from football to women, and they’d never seen eye-to-eye. It didn’t seem to matter how much their mothers had wanted them to be friends, they couldn’t seem to get there.

  When Jude’s dad had died, Mom had gone ahead and deeded him the cabin before moving to Corpus Christi in south Texas with her sister. Jude really wanted to live there, but it was low on amenities and far enough out of town he wouldn’t be able to work at the fire station.

  So, until he figured out what to do with it, and himself, he used it on weekends, days off, and for the auction.

  Moonlighting stripper or not, Hollywood probably didn’t have the cash to outbid a guy who was intent on rubbing his romantic conquests in Jude’s face.

  Which begged the question … Was Annette one of those conquests? Artist would fit his impression of her: fresh, naïve, innocent. Why the fuck did he even care?

  Jude had decided years ago that he was too grown to get pulled into Drake’s bullshit. Dude had money. One good investment and he called himself the Spotter. He fancied himself the only person in town who could spot talent, and he used that line on every wannabe female artist who drove down Main Street looking for a show to make it big.

  “Yeah, I don’t figure I have enough money to outbid him, but it would drive the donations higher if nothing else. If I can get him over two grand, will you let me use it one weekend? Maybe after Christmas?”

  “Fuck off, Hollywood.” Jude was intent on thinking about Annette, the way she tasted, and how he could get her to call him. He needed to warn her away from Drake somehow, but he didn’t want to play into Drake’s juvenile shit. If he said something in front of Drake, he would turn around and make it about him because that’s just what he did.

  He had to get her alone somehow. If he was right, and she was Drake’s latest conquest for the sake of art, she would be his arm candy at the auction, where he high-rolled it to impress her and bid on the cabin.

  If she didn’t call, Jude would just have to see her there.

  When the alarm started blaring, all thoughts of Drake and the mysterious woman vanished as they all ran to don their PPE gear, along with the six other guys on the crew this shift.

  “Two-car accident on 451. No reported casualties. Police department is en route,” the dispatcher said over the intercom.

  Adrenaline flowed through Jude’s veins. This is what he lived for: the rush of the scene. As he climbed into the truck, belted himself in, and slammed his helmet on his head, he said a small prayer that everything would be all right when they got there. Most of the time, the fire department on a car wreck was just a formality, but about twenty percent of the accidents needed them.

  As Jude jumped into his role, all thoughts of the woman and the kiss fled his mind.

  Chapter Four

  Annette awoke with her tongue plastered to the roof of her mouth and a slight ache at the base of her skull. She’d drank too much last night with Drake. Champagne and margaritas were not a great mix for her. Peeling her eyes open, she rubbed the crud out of them and looked around her room with a satisfied sense of fulfillment.

  She had scored a show.

  Despite her dry mouth, she clenched her fists next to her chest and squealed, which came out more like a croak, but she didn’t care.

  Swinging her legs out of bed, she walked over to the chest of drawers and turned on her coffee pot. The one-room apartment she was staying in was clean, and that was all. It had a bed, a chest of drawers, and an end table. That was it for furnishings, but she didn’t need more. She had set her easel up in the corner next to the window, lined her books up on the floor next to her bed, and used an old TV tray from a garage sale for her paints. It wasn’t much, but she was making do, and it looked like she would have the money for a bigger place soon.

  Pamona Gulch wasn’t much bigger than Frankston, but as a small mountain town, it drew tourists year round and had a metropolitan feel to it. It was almost like walking into a REI catalog, whereas Frankston was a Tractor Supply catalog. It was like night and day.

  Annette dragged on a pair of yoga pants and a sweater, cranking her space heater up a notch as she relived last night in her head.

  Drake was nice and had been very accommodating to her needs, but the other man was mind-scrambling.

  He was definitely a man to get lost in, if the kiss were any indication.

  Drake had wanted more than just champagne, she was sure, but he was too much of a gentleman to push. His hungry eyes had lazily trailed over her body all night long, and his not-so-subtle touches had warmed her skin, but Jude was the type of man who took what he wanted and left her in flames.

  He’d seemed eager to see her again. But Annette wasn’t sure she could survive the path of destruction she was sure he’d leave in his wake.

  Grabbing a cup of coffee, she took the three steps over to her easel, musing as she went. Drake had told her to come by today and look at the space. She would have to do that, but first, she needed to get something out of her system. Reaching behind the easel for her sketch pad, Annette went back to settle on her bed to sketch some things. She would need a total of at least twenty pieces in three weeks.

  That meant she had some work to do before heading to the square. Three weeks was three weeks away, and she had to make some money in the meantime.

  She was just getting started on her latest project when her phone rang. When Annette saw it was Luke, she was tempted not to answer it but caved.

  “Hey, Annie, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I miss you.” She cringed at the name Annie. Everyone from home called her that, and she hated it. One of the best parts of her new life was reclaiming her real name.

  “I’m doing really well. I miss everybody there to
o,” she hedged, trying not to give Luke hope of them getting back together, but she didn’t want to hurt him further either. She almost cringed at the audible twang in her voice. That happened every time she talked to someone from home. Annette hadn’t lived here long, just a few weeks, but she’d been trying desperately to speak like the people here—faster, less twangy.

  “Has your art career taken off yet?” The funny thing was, the comment could be taken snidely, but in Luke’s naïveté, he was being serious. As if she could just go off to another town and become famous, but to someone like Luke, who was ever idealistic, that’s exactly what she would do.

  Of course, the unspoken words were there. When are you coming home? Luke and her parents truly believed once she got this out of her system, she’d return. Annette was determined to prove them all wrong. Even if she didn’t become a successful artist, she was going to live her life on her terms.

  “Um, actually, I met a gallery owner yesterday who wants me to do a show with him. I’m supposed to go later this afternoon and look at the space.”

  There was an awkward pause before Luke cleared his throat. “That’s great, Annie. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Um, thanks.”

  “You coming home for Thanksgiving?”

  “Yeah, probably. Dad’s been making noise about buying me a plane ticket.”

  “Good. Well, I guess I’ll let you go.”

  If only you would …

  “Goodbye, Luke.”

  Frustrated with the conversation for reasons she didn’t want to examine, Annette tried to get her head back on the sketch in front of her but couldn’t. Resigned, she folded up her easel, figuring she could work some on the square, and got ready to go make a little money.

  Chapter Five

  The art gallery was beautiful. Annette couldn’t believe it when she saw the open, airy space full of windows and natural stone. It was absolutely breathtaking, and she couldn’t believe that, in just a few short weeks, it would be full of her art.