Buck Naked

by Evangeline Anderson

  “I didn’t do it on purpose,” Sadie protested. “I tried to get lunch at the Lemon Squeezy, but . . .” She stopped, not wanting to tell her gruff neighbor about her failed attempt to get lunch at the diner.

  “But?” he echoed, raising one black eyebrow.

  “But I couldn’t,” Sadie finished. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go home and . . .” She stopped abruptly, remembering that she had yet to stock her fridge and pantry. The thought of eating the Count Chocula breakfast cereal that was almost as old as she was wasn’t very appealing. But that only left the Gatorade gum. Ugh.

  “Look, have dinner with me,” Mathis said grudgingly. He looked like he could scarcely believe he was asking her, but the invitation sounded genuine. “I was about to sit down and eat right before you showed up.”

  “Really?” Sadie wasn’t sure if she ought to accept or not. She couldn’t help remembering the strange instant orgasm she’d had the first time they shook hands. What had that been about? Still, he’d just been holding her on his lap for God alone knew how long and there had been no repeat of the strange electric-lust feeling. Also, Mathis, for all of his gruffness, was one of only two people that she knew of in Cougarville who would actually talk to her.

  Another loud, embarrassing growl from her stomach decided her.

  “Look, I can’t have you fainting again.” Mathis frowned. “Come on—come in the kitchen. I’ll heat up the steak—won’t take a minute.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” Sadie followed him from the comfortable, fire-lit living room to a small, snug kitchen.

  To her surprise it was extremely neat and fitted with all the latest appliances in brushed stainless steel. An enormous rib eye steak was sitting on a blue china plate and a baked potato almost as big as a hoagie roll could be seen wrapped in aluminum foil through the glass of the oven door.

  Mathis busied himself reheating the food, which had apparently gone cold while he held her on the couch. Sadie admired his swift, economical movements—he worked like a man who really knew his way around a kitchen.

  “Can I help?” she asked. “Maybe set the table?”

  “Plates in that cabinet.” He nodded at one of the carved oak cabinets above the sink.

  Sadie opened it but the blue china plates were far above her head on the top shelf. She stood on her tiptoes but it was no good—even in her heels she couldn’t reach.

  Mathis saw her trouble and reached up easily to hand her two plates from the shelf.

  “Sorry,” he grunted. “I built this place for someone my size, not yours.”

  “So you built this all yourself?” Sadie took the plates, looking around the kitchen again. Now that she thought about it, most of the surfaces seemed to be higher than normal. Instead of hitting around her hips, the counters and sink were almost up to her chest. Even the round maple-wood kitchen table seemed bigger and sturdier than usual.

  Mathis nodded as he plated the steak. “Had no one but myself to please and every other place I’d ever lived my whole life was too damn small. I got tired of smacking my head on doorways and crouching over counters.” He shrugged, his broad shoulders rolling. “So I built everything in here to suit myself.”

  “So you’re a carpenter? You’re really talented.” She admired the wood of the table, running her fingertips over the smoothly sanded grain.

  “Yeah,” he said noncommittally but she could see the dark flush of pleasure on his cheeks at her compliment. “I make custom furniture, do some carvings. It’s a living. Anyway, I’m my own boss. I like that.”

  “I like it too,” Sadie said. “Well, I think I would if I could find any clients. Other than Fiona, that is.”

  “So you’re trying to do her books?” Mathis raised an eyebrow at her as he cut the rib eye into two neat sections. “Good luck with that. I saw ’em once around tax time when she asked me for help—what a lot of scribble-scrabble.”

  “Yes, her record keeping is . . . interesting to say the least,” Sadie said, smiling a little. “Where do you keep your silverware?”

  He showed her the right drawer and she got out a fork and steak knife—both oversized, she saw—for each of them.

  Mathis got the potato—which was now piping hot—the butter, and a bottle of steak sauce and placed them all on the table. He got some glasses out—again from a shelf too high for Sadie to reach—then looked at her uncertainly.

  “Uh, sorry but all I have to drink is beer or water. I don’t usually have company so I don’t keep a lot of soda or wine or—”

  “Water is fine,” Sadie said quickly. Her stomach was growling again in response to the delicious aroma of the steak and potato. At this point she didn’t care what she had to drink as long as she got something to eat before she fainted again.

  “You got it.” Mathis filled her glass from the tap and got a bottle of beer for himself from the fridge. “Let’s eat.”

  They did and Sadie couldn’t help thinking that it was the most delicious meal she’d ever had. Maybe it was because she was so hungry but she didn’t think so—even if she hadn’t been starving she would have appreciated the food, which really was spectacular. The steak was juicy and tender and seasoned to perfection and the potato was fluffy and buttery with a crispy skin.

  “You like it?” Mathis asked after they had been eating a while in silence. Sadie knew she ought to have been making polite small talk but the food was so good and she was so hungry she hadn’t been able to make herself do anything but eat.

  “I’m in heaven.” She speared another juicy bite of steak and smiled at him. “You’re an amazing cook.”

  “Well, thanks.” He looked cautiously pleased. “It was either learn to cook or eat all my meals at the Lemon Squeezy, and as much as I like Darla’s cooking it gets old driving ten miles into town for breakfast, lunch, and dinner all the damn time.”

  “Darla—that’s the woman with the platinum-blond hair she wears in a beehive?” Sadie asked, remembering the owner of the diner.

  “Sure, that’s her. You meet her today?” Mathis raised an eyebrow at her.

  “Sort of.” Sadie shifted in her chair uncomfortably, remembering how the proprietor of the diner had screamed at her and stomped the lunch she’d ordered on the floor.

  She thought about asking if Darla was bipolar but then Mathis would probably want to know why she had asked and the scene at the diner was way too weird and embarrassing to explain.

  “What about the Cougar’s Den?” she asked instead. “They’re supposed to be a bar and grill, right? What kind of food do they make?”

  “Stay out of there.” His face, which had been more open and inviting since they’d started eating, suddenly went hard. “It’s not fucking safe in there for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me?” Sadie frowned. “You mean a woman without a man to protect her? Because that’s pretty sexist.”

  “No, that’s not it. I mean . . .” He shook his head, apparently at a loss for words. “Well, you know what I mean. It’s just not safe so stay out.”

  “All right.” Sadie didn’t know what he meant at all but she didn’t want to rile him up either.

  “So is steak your specialty or do you cook other things too?” she asked, diplomatically changing the subject.

  He shrugged. “I make a mean marinara sauce and a pretty good shepherd’s pie. That was my mom’s recipe—she learned to make it for my dad. He was Irish.”

  “Really? You don’t look Irish.”

  “Oh, no? What do you think I look like, then?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

  Sadie looked at him critically from his huge size to his shaggy black hair and neatly trimmed black beard. He had olive skin and large well-made hands with very clean nails. Sadie liked that—she always noticed a man’s hands. For a moment she had a flash of what it would be like to have those hands caressing her body, roaming all over her naked flesh until she moaned for more.

  Wait a minute—where did that thought come from?

  She had
no idea but suddenly there were more like it crowding her brain. It was as though one appetite had been satiated, and now another was growing. But that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Stop it, Sadie, she scolded herself. He’s too young for you—way too young.

  “Well?” Mathis asked and she realized she’d been studying him too long while thinking forbidden, lascivious thoughts.

  “Oh, um . . .” She cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks get hot. “If it wasn’t for your green eyes, I’d say you look Italian. Or maybe half Italian and half giant.” She smiled at him to let him know she was joking and was surprised when he grinned back.

  “Yeah, well, I can’t help that I’m not as itty-bitty as you.”

  “What?” She gave him an incredulous look. “I am not itty-bitty, I assure you.”

  “You are as far as I’m concerned.” His voice dropped to a soft growl and he leaned forward, looking at her across the table. “When I was holding you on the couch I was thinking you felt as light as a feather. Especially when you held on to my shirt and didn’t want me to let you go.”

  “I . . . I don’t remember that. I just remember thinking that something smelled really good and I wanted . . . wanted to be close to it. To you, I guess.”

  Sadie felt herself blushing again as she met his eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed how attractive he was earlier? Maybe because he was always scowling. And now the way he was looking at her, so intently . . .

  She dropped her gaze, feeling unaccountably nervous. This was ridiculous—she was ten years older than him. They had a name for women who went after younger men, didn’t they? Right—cougar. She hadn’t moved to Cougarville to turn into some kind of a cougar.

  Mathis seemed to sense her nervous confusion because he cleared his throat and got up to clear their plates.

  “How about dessert?” His deep voice was slightly hoarse and there was a definite bulge in the denim of his jeans, but at least he was trying to act normal, which was more than Sadie could say for herself.

  “Dessert sounds wonderful,” she made herself say, trying to get back to the cordial tone they’d had before things had suddenly turned weird.

  “Great.” He got a glass casserole pan out of the refrigerator and scooped the contents out into two blue bowls, which he brought to the table.

  Sadie looked at the dessert, which seemed to have three layers—blueberries in sauce at the bottom, a white middle layer, and crumbled cookies on the top. She took a bite and her eyes rolled up in delight.

  “Oh my God, this is sinfully good! Is that middle layer cream cheese?” she asked, going in for another bite.

  Mathis smiled. “Yeah, mixed with powdered sugar and whipped topping. The bottom is just homemade blueberry pie filling. We had a bumper crop this year so I picked extra.”

  “You’re amazing.” Sadie looked at him in wonder. “I mean, you look like a lumberjack but you cook like freaking Gordon Ramsay.”

  He grinned. “Nah—that guy’s an asshole all the time. I’m just an asshole until you get to know me.”

  “Well, I’m glad I did—get to know you I mean.” Sadie smiled at him. “I thought after the way you looked at me this morning when I saw you through my window you’d hate me forever. I mean . . .” She trailed off, feeling mortified. Why had she brought up that morning and the fact that he’d seen her naked? They’d been doing so well and she had to go and ruin it.

  “About that . . .” Mathis cleared his throat. “I thought . . . I mean, I had a wrong idea about you. And I want you to know I wasn’t, uh, spying on you. I was just getting firewood at the wrong time, I guess.”

  “Oh . . .” Sadie felt a rush of relief. “I know that—I could tell by the look on your face you were surprised. And I want you to know I didn’t mean to, uh, flash you.”

  “I believe you,” he said simply. “Not that I minded being flashed.”

  “Um . . .” Sadie felt like her face was on fire. “Thank you but I’m not . . . I mean . . .”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, his deep voice hoarse. When she looked up, she saw his eyes were half lidded with desire and he was giving her that same intense look he had been when she’d woken up in his lap.

  “It’s been a long time since anyone told me that,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “My ex—”

  “If he couldn’t see how fucking gorgeous you are he was a damn fool.” Mathis’s voice was a deep, hungry growl and his eyes seemed to catch and hold hers, just as they had that morning. Once again, Sadie found she literally couldn’t look away.

  She couldn’t tell exactly how it happened but suddenly she was around the table and in his arms. His mouth was hot and hungry and she could feel the hard bulge of his cock under her ass again but she didn’t give a damn. The hunger that had started earlier was beginning to build, like a small spark growing rapidly into a roaring fire. Soon it would break loose and destroy everything in its path.

  Sadie didn’t care. She wanted to let it burn—wanted to let the hunger consume her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so hot . . . so alive and awake and sexual—so ready to make love.

  But no—not just to make love—to be taken. Claimed. Fucked.

  She could imagine how it would be with Mathis—he was so huge. She could almost feel his big body on top of hers, holding her down, spreading her legs while that thick shaft she could feel under her ass drove slowly home inside her, making her his.

  The thought sent a fresh surge of desire through her and she deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue between his lips to taste him. Mathis groaned hungrily and opened for her, welcoming her in.

  His mouth was sweet like the blueberry dessert—sweet and hot and Sadie couldn’t get enough of him. She buried her fingers in his coarse dark hair and pulled him closer, pushing her breasts shamelessly against his broad chest. Somewhere deep inside a little voice was demanding to know what she thought she was doing. She barely knew this man—how could she be kissing him so passionately?

  Sadie pushed the little voice aside. It didn’t matter that she barely knew Mathis or that he was way too young for her—he fed the hunger that had suddenly blossomed inside her like a rose made entirely of thorns. He made her hot and wet and alive—made her feel more than she’d ever felt before. Between her legs she felt swollen and sensitive—she needed him on top of her, inside her . . .

  “Wait.”

  To her disappointment, it was Mathis who broke the kiss. He was breathing hard—they both were—but somehow he pulled his mouth away from hers and shook his head.

  “Mathis?” She heard the breathless, needy tone of her own voice and felt powerless to stop it.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” His voice was grating and low and the bulge in his jeans, under her ass, was so hot and hard he had to be aching. “I usually have better control over myself. It’s your fuckin’ scent—God, you smell so damn good.”

  The feeling of him throbbing under her made Sadie realize she was still sitting on his lap. Quickly, she got up and went back to her own seat and her half-finished dessert.

  “I didn’t mean to, uh, jump on you either,” she admitted, picking up her fork, just to have something to do with her hands. “I . . . I don’t know what came over me.”

  “The same thing that came over me.” He sighed. “Look, I just want you to know I didn’t offer you supper because I expect you to . . . you know.”

  “Oh, I never thought . . . I mean, I wouldn’t . . . I mean, I barely know you,” Sadie stammered. “I, uh . . . God, this is so awkward.”

  “It really fucking is,” Mathis agreed in a low growl. “You’re just damn hard to resist.”

  Sadie was surprised into a laugh. “Thanks. I never thought of myself as, uh, irresistible before.”

  “Better get used to it,” Mathis remarked obliquely. “Do you want some more dessert?”

  Sadie realized he was trying to get their conversation back on track and she was more than willing to help him.

  “I’d love
some,” she said warmly, passing him her bowl. “So you never told me—what is this delicious dish called, anyway?”

  He coughed self-consciously. “Blueberry Yum-Yum.”

  “What?” Sadie felt a nervous giggle trying to escape her. “Blueberry Yum-Yum?”

  “Hey, what can I say? It’s another family recipe.” He spread his hands.

  “Well, it’s delicious. Did your mom teach you to make it?” Sadie asked.

  He shook his head, his expression suddenly becoming grave.

  “No. My wife.”

  “Oh . . .” Sadie felt instinctively that she’d hit a raw nerve. “Did you get a divorce? That’s what happened to me—my husband waited until our kids went off to college and then traded me in for a younger model.”

  “No divorce.” Mathis looked down, swirling his fork aimlessly in the blueberry dessert. “She died.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Sadie said. So much for trying to get the conversation back on track. Everything between them kept getting more and more awkward.

  “It’s okay. It was . . . a while ago.” But the tone of his voice told her it wasn’t okay—that maybe it never would be.

  She wished she could comfort the big man. Though time had passed since his trauma, she could tell that the wound was still fresh by the way he hunched his broad shoulders and stared fixedly at the table.

  Wanting to make him feel better, she reached across and placed a hand on his wrist.

  “Mathis—”

  He jerked away and got up from the table in a rush, bumping it so hard with his thigh that the bowls rattled and clattered.

  “Maybe you’d better go.”

  “Oh.” Sadie sat there, stunned for a moment. She’d only been trying to make him feel better. She got up slowly. “All right. I’m sorry.”

  “I am too.” He raked one big hand through his wild black hair. “I just . . . I can’t do this right now. Or ever.”

  What was he talking about? The kiss they’d shared? Or the beginnings of what could have been a really nice friendship? Did he want no part of her at all?

  Sadie had no idea but she knew when to leave an awkward situation.