by Cara McKenna
They had a past, too, a million shared memories. Twenty years or more of friendship, and that counted for a lot with Miah. History. She’d always been fun, and a touch intimidating. But that day at the funeral, she’d become more. He hadn’t seen her the same way since.
Unlike his best friend, Miah couldn’t get hot over just any attractive woman. He had to feel something first. Attachment turned him on, and possession lit him on fire. Familiarity and affection got him as riled as a beautiful pair of breasts or a stunning face. As a result, Vince had called him a pussy a thousand times in the past fifteen years, but Miah didn’t care. If you were going to sleep with someone you didn’t feel something for, what was the point? Why not just jack off if it was as impersonal as scratching some biological itch? Save everybody involved an awkward morning after.
Miah didn’t want sex to be convenient, or opportunistic. Sex should be memorable and meaningful, and hopefully kick off the start of something real and intense and maybe even for keeps. Not some in-and-out transaction of necessity, like pulling into a goddamn gas station.
He studied Raina, standing barely three feet from him, talking to Alex. Her smile made his body flash hot, and when her gaze met his, his breath was gone. Just as quick, she turned away.
These past two evenings, there’d been a little something, hadn’t there? He’d come by last night and the one before, needing a drink to dull his frustration toward a problem employee, and a little time away from the ranch. Her gaze had lingered on him longer than usual, he’d thought, and his own gaze had been lingering more and more lately, as his celibacy wore on. Could she tell that something had shifted in him this past year? That his attraction was no longer a moment of curiosity now and then, but nearing infatuation? Probably. She could probably smell it, like a shark smelled a drop of blood through a mile of ocean.
Vince returned from his smoke break.
“Another?” Raina asked him.
He looked to Miah. “Pitcher?”
Miah shook his head. “Pacing myself.” Unlike Alex or Vince, he couldn’t get tanked and stagger home later—the ranch was way out at the eastern edge of Fortuity.
Raina handed Vince a fresh bottle. “So what are you going to do, now you’re finally out?”
He took a deep gulp. “I’m going to get drunk, and I’m going to get laid. Probably in that order.”
“I meant for work,” Raina said, “but those sound good, too. And I can help you with the first one.” She grabbed his shot glass and the bottle of bourbon.
“Help me with both, if you want,” Vince said, leaning on the bar and flashing her one of his shameless smiles.
Miah rankled, but kept his temper in check. He had no claims on Raina, these past couple nights’ new heat notwithstanding. Plus he doubted there was much behind Vince’s pass aside from a load of pent-up testosterone. Vince and Raina had had their whole lives to turn into something, but never had. Miah knew that for a fact—his best friend wasn’t exactly discreet about his conquests.
She set the shot before Vince. “The drink’s on me, but your other needs are not my problem.”
Vince craned his big body to scan the barroom, but only a few new faces had arrived, and none were female. “When do your hands get off work?” he asked Miah.
“Leave my poor employees alone. Most of those girls are ten years younger than you.”
“And some of the biggest flirts I’ve ever seen,” Raina put in, grinning. “I really don’t think they need any protecting, Miah. If they can handle themselves with all those steer, they can handle Vince.”
“I’m not choosy who handles me tonight,” Vince said, and downed his shot. “Most any willing party will do.”
Miah shook his head. “Know what’s sexier than consent, Vince? Enthusiasm.”
Raina smiled, and Alex laughed.
“You spend a few months in prison,” Vince cut back, “and you see how high your standards are when you get out. Hey, now—here we go.”
A group had arrived along with the dusk, not short on women. From there the evening took a sharp turn, as more young folks arrived and the jukebox got in the mood for dancing, tables were moved aside, and the grumpy old men disappeared out into the night. Raina shut the windows and switched off the AC as the sky outside went black and the din of chatter and laughter grew.
Vince was on the hunt in due time, and Raina got busy with orders. Miah talked with Alex for two hours or more, until a whiskey glaze dulled his friend’s eyes and the conversation grew stilted and a touch slurred. It cooled Miah’s own interest in drinking, and he let his beer grow warm.
A good dozen ranch hands had arrived, and after a few rounds they shed their inhibitions around Miah being their boss, and tried to get him to dance, one of the girls tugging on his wrist.
“No way. You kids’ll never respect me again.”
Raina watched with a smirk on her lips as he continued to deflect. “Go on, cowboy. Let’s see your moves.”
“You ever seen me dance in our entire lives?” he asked, just as the hands all rushed to the floor at the opening notes of some popular song.
“Junior high semi-formal,” Raina said.
“That doesn’t count as dancing—that’s just shuffling around in a circle.”
“You never shuffled with me,” she countered, affecting a pout she’d never actually wear in earnest.
“You were twelve when I was fourteen. I have some dignity, you know.”
“’Nother, please,” Alex said, sliding his empty tumbler across the bar.
“You are cut off, Deputy,” Raina told him. Her tone was cheerful and chiding, but Miah could see tension hiding behind it, hardening her jaw.
“Oh, come on.”
“I’ve got water, ginger ale, Coke, Sprite . . .”
“Fine, fine. Water.”
She poured him a big glass, but Alex drank only half of it before declaring he was tired and ready to head home.
“Need a lift?” Miah asked him.
“Nah, I’m good.” A sway in Alex’s step as he got to his feet contradicted the statement. Miah considered insisting, but then made the fateful mistake of glancing at Raina. If he dropped Alex off, he might as well just go home. It was after midnight, and Vince had already gone missing, presumably with a woman. Miah was done drinking and had no good reason to come back . . . yet he wasn’t ready to go. It felt like tonight was the night. He needed to make his move, take the temperature of the situation and find out if he had it all wrong or not. If Raina wasn’t feeling anything, no problem. Better that way, even, as he could snap out of this infatuation and quit fixating on her.
And if she did feel something? His blood pumped quicker, imagining it. Imagining leaning in, kissing her, pulling her against him.
And so he bade Alex a good night and told him to walk safe, because he wasn’t going anywhere until closing time. Not until he knew, once and for all, whether this strange new energy between them was all in his imagination, or as real as electricity.
Last call arrived in a blink. Raina clanged the bell, drink orders were placed and filled, and Miah sat there, losing his nerve, utterly unsure if or how to make a move. His employees shouted their good-nights, and the crowd dwindled, and dwindled, until it was just him and Raina and a handful of others.
In time, voices at his back called out parting words to Raina, who smiled and saluted from the register. The door creaked shut behind Miah. He craned his neck.
Just him, now. Him and her. Alone together, for the first time in who could guess how long.
Raina came by, wiping down the counter. “Another?”
He shook his head, and she smiled.
“Don’t tell me you’re here for the charming company,” she said, gaze panning the deserted barroom. “Because that’s way too much pressure on me.”
He shrugged. “So what if I am? It’s been a while since we had a chance to chat, you and me.”
“I saw you last night, and the night before. That’s more than u
sual.”
“I suppose.”
“Does that mean I’m extra interesting all of a sudden, or that life isn’t all peaches and cream back at Three C?”
His turn to smile. “Little of both.”
“Do me a favor,” she said, and pulled two shot glasses out of the steaming washer. “Lock that door for me.”
Miah rose and did as she asked, flipping the dead bolt. The parking lot was empty, save for his truck.
He returned to the bar to find Raina tilting the bourbon bottle to the glasses. She instructed, “Now drink this.”
“I need to drive home.”
“One little shot won’t hurt you. It’s been two hours since I handed you a beer.”
“Tell me why first.”
She bit her lip, that coy little gesture from this normally brazen woman making Miah’s head spin. He didn’t need the goddamn shot.
“Because I want to ask you something,” she said.
His heart beat quicker as he spoke, a spark of hope flickering in his chest, itching to catch fire. “Something you can’t ask me sober?”
She nodded to his shot and he lifted it. They downed them together.
She set hers aside, staring at the empty glass as she let the sting of the liquor cool, tongue tracing her front teeth. Miah felt that same burn on his own lips, and the fever spread through his neck and chest as her gaze snapped to his.
“There’s been something different lately, hasn’t there?”
Miah froze, unsure if she meant what he hoped she did. What he prayed she did. “How do you mean?”
She smiled and leaned on the bar. “You’ve been looking at me different. And I’ve noticed because I’ve always looked at you.”
His face flushed hot and all his charm abandoned him. “Have you?” He felt lucky he hadn’t stammered those words.
“Of course I have. You’re the most handsome man in Fortuity.”
“I don’t remember being given a tiara.”
She laughed. “You, though—you’ve never really looked at me, not like that. Not aside from the occasional glance down my shirt.”
Now he was definitely blushing. Though he couldn’t deny it. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Why do you think I wear these?” she asked, plucking at the lace straps of her tank top.
He took a breath, and said, “I guess I have noticed you lately. Different than before.”
She stood a little straighter. “Better late than never, I guess.”
Was that some kind of confession? A green light? And shit, if it was, what did he want to do about it? What did she want to do about it? Should he ask her on a date, or—
Her dark eyes narrowed. “You want to kiss or something?”
Miah paused, then the truth shoved rational thought aside. That shot could have been half the bottle for how woozy he felt. He nodded. “I think I would.”
Her smile deepened. “Help me close up, then.”
He did, accepting a damp towel, wiping down the tables in a fevered haze, putting up the stools and chairs in a disembodied rush.
He was going to kiss Raina Harper.
For real, this time, and sober. His friend of twenty years or more.
Christ, was this a terrible idea? Or completely natural?
“Looks good,” she said from behind him.
He turned, finding her drying her hands on her bar towel, approaching him with slow, lazy steps. There was something in her eyes. Something hot and playful he didn’t think he’d ever seen there before. Miah swallowed and set the final chair upside-down on its high top.
“So do you,” he said, probably too late for it to even make sense, let alone sound smooth or clever. Raina just smiled, stepping closer, until there were perhaps two paces between the toes of their boots. Without thought, he gave voice to his worries, barely louder than a whisper.
“We about to wreck a good friendship?”
She blinked. “Since when did kissing have that kind of power?”
Since when does it not?
Miah had never dated a friend before, and never stayed close with an ex. Too awkward, too . . . too something. Something that made him uncomfortable. Whether you got hurt or did the hurting, how could you get back on equal footing?
Perhaps with a good friend, as he and Raina were, no kiss could undo all those years already invested. Or so he hoped. And a force inside him—an urge taut and fiery and ready to snap—told him to quit with the worrying, take the chance, and find the fuck out.
He reached out, and he touched her. Put his fingertips to her neck, and slowly, shyly, curled his palm to cup her jaw. Her cheek was soft where his thumb stroked, and he got lost in that tiny touch for long seconds, feeling high. Hypnotized. She clasped his wrist—not stopping him, not urging him, only holding. He freed his fingers to lace them with hers, studying their two hands. He sensed her gaze on his face, but he was lost in the feel of his bare skin against hers.
“I always imagined if this happened,” she murmured, “that we’d be completely shitfaced.”
He laughed, the spell broken, but this new moment was just as fascinating. He met her eyes. “You always imagined this would happen?”
She shrugged. “I wondered, when we were younger. Then I figured you just didn’t feel anything like that for me. But I was always curious about you. About us, and what it would be like if we ever went there, together. But by the time I was twenty-five, I knew how to tell if a guy was into me. And with you, I just never felt it. Not until this week.”
“I didn’t really let myself feel it until recently.”
She touched his hair, tucking an overgrown lock behind his ear. “What changed?”
He didn’t want to bring up her dad’s funeral and the slow, steady evolution of his feelings, so he fibbed. “Maybe you being away in Vegas made me notice you more once you got back. Plus now’s the first time we’ve both been single in a long while. And I’m not the sort of man who gets designs on other guys’ girlfriends.”
“No, you’re not. And here we are. Both single, like you said. Both here.” She tilted her face up and her nose brushed his. He felt his brain dissolve and the room fall away. Her lips were there, right there.
He whispered, “You remember the last time we kissed?”
“The only time we’ve kissed. At that cookout. You were pretty plastered.”
“Weren’t you?”
She smiled, their noses glancing again when she shook her head. “Not really. And I guess maybe you weren’t too drunk to remember.”
“It’s a little hazy,” he admitted. “How were we?”
That smile deepened to a grin and she touched his chest, traced his collar. “We were pretty fucking hot.”
“Even drunk?”
“Oh yes. You can kiss, cowboy.”
He swallowed, his pride so inflated it was filling his heart up tight like a balloon. “Good to know.”
“It’s probably been ten years, though. So feel free to refresh my memory.”
And he did. Dove right in. He cradled her head, fingers tangling in her hair, and pressed his lips to hers. He felt that kiss like a lightning strike, like a heat wave, like a million perfect clichés converging between their bodies.
Her mouth was hungry and he took her cues, tasting her deeply. No place for slow and steady with this fast, wild woman.
They kissed like they’d practiced this for hours, days, years. Like a dance their lips and tongues had mastered and made their own. He felt crazy from it, and let her hear it, moaning as she tugged him closer by the belt. Raina was tall, though he felt every one of the four or so inches he had on her. Felt big in the best way, aggressive like he had to get on top of her, push his body into hers. Unleash these feelings like a caged and angry animal.
Goddamn, no woman had ever done this to Miah before. Not like this. Not from sex, let alone kissing. All those things that got him so hot in a new relationship were gathering deep and low in his body. Possession, and familiarity. He knew her, b
etter than any other woman he’d done this with. And he wanted her all to himself. Wanted to be hers, and to call her his in return. Wanted to make her feel all these things with his body.
He held her head, slid his other palm down her back and pulled her close—close enough to register exactly how hard he was when her flat belly pressed along his fly. He groaned against her lips as her pawing hands stroked his arms, his chest, his face.
Suddenly, big as it was, the barroom was too tight. Not intimate—just crowded, even in its emptiness, the high ceiling looming much too close. Miah’s claustrophobia always got worse the hotter his body ran. Normally that meant he was frustrated or overheated from physical labor, but just now it was from pure lust. He needed the open air, and the black sky, and a million stars above them, night chill be damned.
“Come outside,” he murmured, gathering her hair in his hands, aching to bury his nose behind her ear and breathe her in, get drunk off her. Feel her skin against his palms and her nails on his back, hear her voice saying his name as he drove his body into hers, again and again. Fucking crazy.
“What for?” she asked, but her sharp smile said she knew exactly what for.
“For whatever’s supposed to happen between us next.”
She stroked his cheek, dragged her thumb across his lower lip. He caught it in his mouth and drew it deep. That parted her own lips, and dropped her lids low. Low, like the blood flowing south to leave Miah’s cock heavy and hot and hurting.
“Outside?” she echoed.
“Outside. Now.” And if he didn’t goddamn get inside her tonight, he was going to lose his ever-loving mind.
Chapter Two
Outside. Now.
Raina wasn’t normally one to take orders from anybody, but at this moment she was far too fascinated to care. She let Miah lead her by the hand, outside to the front lot, to his lonely truck. Not to the cab, though—to the back. He lowered his tailgate, and urged her up onto it. It brought their faces level, and she smiled at him. He returned a bare sliver of it, as much as his excitement would allow.