Playing With Trouble (Desire Bay)

by Joya Ryan

  “So bark dust and gravel?” she asked. “That’s what all this is? That’s the business now?”

  “Home and garden supplies,” he corrected.

  “But the garden shop is closed. And flowers are part of what this place is known for.”

  “Was known for,” he said. “We deal with big projects now. We have a steady cast of usual customers that keep us comfortably busy all year. Like people needing lumber for houses and sod for landscaping design. The flower shop is ambience and holds the copy machine, but that’s about it.”

  “It should be open,” she argued.

  “You know how many corsages you’d have to sell to even come close to the kind of profit I get from one bark supply order?”

  “Clearly you don’t even know that comparison, since the place is closed!” she snapped. The one good memory she had was of the flower shop. It had been lovely once upon a time. It had also been booming back then. Now it was just a glorified storefront of what once was, while Jacob Lock sold manly supplies out of the warehouse in the back.

  “If you want it open more, then come in and run the shop, Miss Owner.”

  “That’s what I intend to do.”

  “Great,” Jake said, and she could tell from his tone it was anything but great.

  “Well, then.” She looked around. That bounce in her step—which came from rainy-day shoe destruction instead of walking on sunshine—was starting to physically hurt, and her confidence was dissipating. She had no idea what she was expecting, or even what to do now. She had suitcases waiting and a broken shoe, and currently she was staring down the only man who had made her feel hot and bothered in a long time. He was also the man her father loved. Walt may have left her the flower shop, but he’d left everything else to Jacob. Including job security.

  Wait . . . not everything.

  “My father said I basically have the house to myself, since he’s living with”—she swallowed back the horror—“his girlfriend.” A topic she’d dive into later with him.

  “That’s right. You have his old place.”

  Finally, something resembling peace was on the horizon. She couldn’t wait to get back to the home she’d grown up in. With the dahlia garden in back. Would it still be there? She could cut flowers and remember her mother. Remember the good moments. Maybe bring a bunch of them to the shop the way they used to and put arrangements in the cooler and start the floral shop off right.

  Jacob smiled, those straight white teeth making her dizzy. Her breasts, however, were on full alert, standing to attention at the sight of his lips spreading. Where was a set of headgear when you needed it, because Jake Lock was too damn handsome for his own good and she needed a distraction from his perfect face and his stupid perfect teeth.

  “I’d be happy to take you there.” He grinned. The way he said that made her think he knew a secret she didn’t. “I’ll lock up, bring the truck around, and you can follow.”

  “I know how to get to my old house.”

  “That’s not where I’m taking you.”

  Before she could ask more, he turned to leave.

  “Follow me and stay close.”

  She nodded. But she had the feeling that—irritation, frustration, and expectations aside—being near Jacob Lock was a bad idea, especially when her mind was churning out thoughts of just how much of her skin those big hands of his could cover.

  This was going to be more stressful than she’d realized.

  Chapter Two

  “It’s beautiful,” Laura said, looking at the large house on the outskirts of town. Her father must have built a new house! It was an A-line cottage style with massive windows and surrounded by trees. It was a far cry from the small house Laura had grown up in. Maybe he’d planted a garden out back?

  “Thanks,” Jacob said, shutting his truck door and grabbing Laura’s suitcases out of her trunk. The rain had let up, which was nice, since her suitcases would have gotten drenched otherwise. “Took a year to build.”

  “You built this?”

  He came to stand beside her, her suitcases still in his hands. “Yep. Walt and I did a few summers back, after he sold his other house.”

  When Laura saw the smile and pride that lit up Jacob’s face as he looked at the home, she realized that he had a very different relationship with her father than she did. Especially since she’d hadn’t been around.

  “He sold the house?” she asked softly.

  Jacob nodded. “Yeah, the owner cleared the land and is rebuilding on it himself, I think.”

  “So it’s gone? The house . . . the garden?” And he’d never told her. In all those phone calls, he’d never once mentioned selling her childhood home. Where her mother had had her garden. The owner had cleared the land and was rebuilding.

  Jacob shrugged. “Walt wanted a fresh start, I guess. Sold it a few years ago.”

  Her heart beat slower and her chest tightened. Her father had sold the only tie to her childhood home, and it was gone. While the floral shop needed TLC, he’d built this house with Jacob?

  But being in the presence of the house, knowing her father had used his two hands to build something with Jake, cut deeper than she wished.

  And whose fault is that?

  Hers.

  She’d been in California chasing a man who’d degraded her, and a dream that had landed her right back in this small town.

  A pang of envy hit her hard, and it felt a lot like a sharp knife to the kidney. She could never build a house, much less something like this, but she could try to rebuild the shop. And she’d stay focused on that. And at least her father had built this beautiful house, which was something. She could empathize with needing a fresh start and would never fault him for needing the same thing.

  “Well, it’s very nice.” She walked toward the front door. She was in desperate need of a hot shower and a stiff drink. “Do you have the key?”

  “I do.” Again, he smiled like he’d won some victory that Laura wasn’t aware of, so she continued her walk toward the house. “Where are you going?” he asked when she reached the steps to the large wraparound porch.

  “Inside.”

  “But I didn’t invite you in. That there is my house. Your place is right over there.” He pointed to the left, and that’s when she saw it. A few yards off to the side of the house was an old camper that had seen better days.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s your dad’s, and he said earlier that it’s all yours.” He winked and strutted over and dropped her suitcase down in front of the camper. That envy that she’d been feeling earlier morphed into full-blown anger—and, if she were honest, total, humiliating sadness.

  “He built a house with you and lived in a camper?” It wasn’t a question, but it came out that way because Laura still couldn’t believe it. Not that she thought she was entitled, but she had thought her father had at least had a house. Or an apartment. But a camper?

  “A camper that’s now all yours. Lucky lady.”

  Whatever expression she wore made Jacob take a step closer, that sky-blue gaze locked on her face—like he was mentally doing long division. Either that or it was a look of concern. Her money was on long division, though.

  She straightened her shoulders. Letting the competition see weakness wasn’t wise. And she needed to regroup, because it was clear that Jacob wanted her kept under his heel, and she wanted him to realize she was in charge of this shop endeavor. The race was on as to see who could outlast whom. She glanced at her new home. Whether it was a camper or not, she just needed some time to let this all sink in. And she needed that shower before going to meet Hannah at the bar.

  “I, ah . . .” Jacob gripped the back of his neck and looked over his shoulder at his home. His beautiful home. The home he’d built with her father. He almost looked . . . sorry. As in, sorry for her. “I can take you to the grocery store later if you need. Or I have sandwich stuff if you’re hungry?”

  She swallowed, because s
he’d been right. In that moment, he felt sorry for her. Her belly growled at the offer of food, but no way would she take anything more from him. She wanted to fade away. Get a good distance between herself and those piercing eyes before they saw right through her fake confidence and she broke down in tears.

  “I know where the store is and I can take care of myself, thank you.” She picked up her suitcase, bumped his shoulder as she passed him, and hoisted herself into the camper.

  “Suit yourself,” he grumbled and strode the ten feet it took to reach his home.

  So much for keeping a distance.

  That woman wasn’t just a sexy pain in the ass, she was stubborn as hell and set on making Jake’s life miserable. At least the part in his jeans, because he’d been hard since he saw her bending over and now he was just getting grouchy about it.

  He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the top, and sank his big body on his even bigger leather sofa and looked out the front windows. Though it was still gray and night was coming, it had stopped raining for now. Jake, however, couldn’t stop thinking of Laura Baughman, who was now his next-door neighbor.

  When she had realized that this was his house, a sadness had washed over her and he’d almost felt bad. He’d expected her to go off about her accommodations being less than adequate or give him some kind of hell about the camper, but she hadn’t. She’d just stared, as if the fact that Walt had built this with him had hit a nerve.

  “Not your problem,” Jake reminded himself. Because she hadn’t been around and he wasn’t going to feel bad for the fact that he had been. So why the hell was he thinking of those big brown eyes and how they looked a little glossy after seeing the house?

  Shit. Maybe she was upset. Her dad had sold her childhood home, which was clearly news to her. Maybe he should ease up on her. Maybe she was more delicate than she appeared—

  His front door crashed open and there, standing in nothing but a small, tattered towel, drenched from head to toe, was Laura Baughman.

  “What the hell!” she yelled.

  Okay, so he’d been wrong in thinking her a delicate flower. Because what stood before him was a buck twenty of pissed-off, nearly naked, dripping-wet female. And he couldn’t find a reason to be upset about that. He leaned forward, beer in hand, and rested his forearms on his bent knees.

  “Sure, come on in. No need to knock or anything,” he said, trying to keep his cool. But it was suddenly difficult to swallow for some reason.

  “Don’t give me that. What did you do to my water?” she said, stomping inside, clutching that thin towel around her chest. That hard-dick syndrome he’d had been fighting for the past hour got worse.

  Full cleavage threatened to spill over the top of the scrap of fabric that barely covered her, giving him a prime view of just how long those tan legs were. And wouldn’t you know, Miss Baughman must prefer itsy-bitsy bikinis in the California sun she came from, because he couldn’t see a tan line anywhere.

  “I didn’t do anything to your water, in fact, I hooked my hose to the camper myself. You’re welcome.”

  “Your hose?” she said with shock. “There’s no hot water. I got into the shower and found that out the hard way.”

  “I can see that.” And boy, could he. Goose bumps pricked her flawless skin, and her nipples were straining against the towel. Jake thought he might lose his goddamn mind if she stood there like that for one more second.

  The woman either needed to invest in muumuus and turtlenecks or he was going to have a real problem resisting her. Which meant he needed to try extra hard to keep his distance.

  Then it hit him—this setup might not have been so grand after all. His eighteen-year-old self would have given his left arm to be in the position he was in right now. Laura Baughman, nearly naked, and privacy. She also seemed to be attracted to him . . . Was he supposed to ignore that?

  Yes!

  Damn his stupid conscience.

  So in the meantime he had to stare down the sassy vixen who both tempted and annoyed him endlessly like the piece of candy he couldn’t have, and just . . . ignore her? Fat chance.

  Maybe he could really push her buttons. Time to call a new play and blitz with seduction. He may not have played football in high school, but the band had had to attend games regularly. Besides, Jake had been told he looked like a linebacker, so that was close enough. He’d call the blitz play. There was a spark between them, and if she was hell-bent on sticking around, he would have to face her and all this sexual frustration daily.

  Why not try to get it out of his system now, or make a move and have her shut him down and hate him? Was this brilliant or crazy? He didn’t know, because he was too focused on that little towel and how little it really was. She seemed determined to stay . . . but he had some doubts about that. But if she did leave, better to know sooner than later. At the very least he could push some buttons and get her to want to stay away from him. Yeah, this had to be a good idea . . . not crazy. He could put the moves on and when she huffed in disgust and bolted, he could finally get some peace. Time to play a big hand and call her bluff.

  Good plan.

  He rose and closed the distance between them. She watched his every step as he got closer. To her credit, she didn’t back away.

  “You know, I’m a reasonable man.” He paused to take a swig of his longneck and noticed how her eyes riveted to the action. Either Miss Baughman wanted a drink or she just liked looking at his mouth. Yep, he needed to take care of this infatuation ASAP. And since he couldn’t lay her down to do it, he’d have to send her running.

  So he’d piss her off.

  “If you ask real nice,” he said, “I’ll let you use my shower.”

  She scoffed. “Why don’t I have my own hot water?”

  “Because you need a device to heat it, which you don’t have.”

  “Obviously!” She motioned to the front of herself. “What do I need to make it hot?”

  “I can make it hot for you. You just have to say the word.”

  She took a deep breath, and damn, he liked what that did to her breasts. Made them inch just a bit more out of the top of that towel, which was now number one on his list of things he currently hated. Time to show Miss Baughman that he wasn’t the band nerd anymore. He was a man who had more than enough experience to give her exactly what she needed.

  “I can’t live like this,” she said in a breathy voice.

  “You’ll need a generator to heat the water.”

  “What’s that?”

  He stalled. “You want to own a home-supply business and you don’t know what a generator is?” Shit, this was worse than he thought.

  “It’s a home-and-garden business, which once upon a time was a flower shop. I think I can handle it. And”—she waved a finger in his face—“I do own it. My name is Baughman, remember?”

  “Your father owns it, and I’m the one that knows about the business—and what a generator is—remember?”

  She huffed again and Jake was one deep breath away from seeing everything he’d dreamed of when he was a teenager.

  “If you just meet me halfway,” he said, trying to find some common ground, literally, “I’m happy to give you what you need.”

  “You have no idea how much I need—”

  She caught herself, and Jake wanted to know what she’d been about to say. So he pushed.

  “I think I know what you need . . .” His voice was deeper than he’d meant.

  “Yeah, well, what I need is something I refuse to have, so I’ll just stick with the hot water.”

  This piqued his interest. “I hope we’re talking about the same thing.”

  She raised a brow and crossed her arms, which did amazing things for her cleavage.

  “I’m not dating anyone, Jake. So don’t even try.”

  “Oh, I’m not trying to date you.”

  Her mouth parted, and he smiled.

  “Well, I’m not having sex, either. It’s a vow to myself,” she said. But her
self didn’t look entirely on board with that statement.

  “Why in the hell would you make that vow?”

  “Because I need to stay focused. And the one person I was with before didn’t leave me missing anything, so it’s fine.”

  “Whoa, back up, did you say one?” Jake asked in shock.

  Her eyes went wide, as if she’d just dished a secret she hadn’t meant to. Holy shit, the prom queen has only been with one man.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m simply telling you this so you understand where my priorities are. With the shop, not with you.”

  Time to get sneaky.

  “Uh-huh. So you are aware of your attraction to me?” he asked.

  “Of course I’m aware. I mean, look at you!”

  That made him smile and her frown once again. He always had loved her mouth. Especially when it was spilling admissions about him and how much she was attracted to him.

  But now he was not only aware that the gorgeous Miss Baughman had only had one sexual partner in the past ten years, but that she didn’t seem to miss it. Therefore she hadn’t been properly loved. Which made Jake want to rectify that situation real bad.

  But she had her rules. No dating. No sex.

  She seemed less firm on that last rule, though. And what constituted sex in her mind?

  Perhaps it was time to find out.

  Yep, he was full of good plans today, especially since his brain seemed to be in his jeans at the moment.

  “Me being here and running the business is something you should get used to,” she said and put a hand on her hip while the other was still busy clutching the knot of the towel around her chest.

  So they were back to this. He was getting nervous, because she kept referring to the shop and the warehouse as “the business” as a whole. And that made his eye tic come back. Demanding money for her flower shop ideas was one thing. “The business” was another. Because that business—a.k.a. the warehouse—was his business.