Ike’s hand, still on the back of her neck, pulled her back. “I’ve jacked off thinking of your mouth on mine, and kissing you all over when it’ll lead to more than just kissing. But, sweet cheeks, standing in the women’s clothing department at Runnings, with underwear dangling from your cast and cameras recording us, is not the place that kiss is gonna happen.”
“Okay. But as far as I’m concerned? Going slow is for the birds and I’m gonna do something rash to turn this G-rated date into triple-X-rated territory the first chance I get.” She patted his cheek. “Now let’s finish shopping.”
“We’re not done?”
“Not by a long shot, bud.”
Riss took off and Ike had a hard time keeping up with her.
“Hey. Slow down. The floors are slippery.”
She whirled around and almost smacked him with her cast. “My god. I’m not an eight-year-old girl running by the pool! I’m perfectly capable of walking around on my own, jackass.”
Jackass.
Then Miss Perfectly Capable slipped.
Ike lunged for her, catching her around the waist.
Her fingers dug into his biceps as she righted her balance.
Ike chose the high road and didn’t say Guess bein’ a jackass ain’t so bad when I save your ass from hitting the concrete. Instead he murmured, “You okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He waited to see if she’d tag it with an insult, but Riss merely squeezed his arm and sighed.
“What?”
“You’re such a big, strong man. These muscles of yours make me absolutely weak in the knees.”
That threw him. And her sexy little smirk . . . Nope. He was not getting a hard-on in the ranch supply store. No way. No how.
Riss led him to the back of the store.
He smelled them before he heard their high-pitched cheeping coming from the warming pens. She bent down and stuck her hand inside. Immediately a small brown-and-russet-flecked chick rushed to her hand.
“Hey, little fella. How would you like to come home with me?”
Ike crouched down beside her. “Looks like you missed the section in the roommate rules about no live poultry allowed in the house.”
Riss angled her head. The look in her eyes was both coy and mean. “Is that what we are, Palmer? I bring an overnight bag and we’re back to bein’ roommates?”
“Brought that one on myself, didn’t I?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Because you already know the answer. We’re dating.”
Her gaze fell to his lips. “So I don’t need to be back here picking out a new chick for you?”
He laughed hard enough to scare all the chicks away. Christ. He might not survive this woman. “Nope. I’m good with the chick I’ve already got.”
She rested her good hand on his shoulder, using him to push herself upright.
Which put her crotch in his face.
Directly in his face. If he angled his head just so, he could have his mouth on her. Maybe even get a whiff of her scent.
“Hey.”
He tilted his head back. The look in her eyes didn’t bode well for him. “What?”
“No kissin’ those lips either, cowboy.”
He couldn’t believe she said that.
Yes, you can. Her unapologetic lewdness is one of your favorite things about her.
She laughed. “You brought that one on yourself too.”
Ike stood. “You done?”
“Nope. I wanna go look at the fish.”
When they were close to the multitude of fish tanks, he said, “I know what you’re doin’, Riss, and it ain’t gonna work.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Askin’ me first if you can have a baby chick, knowing full well I’d say no, so then askin’ me to buy you a fish won’t seem as bad.”
“Are you always so suspicious?”
“I’m wise to female manipulations, courtesy of my three sisters.”
Riss tossed her head. “Bet you never bought them a fish either.”
“Nope. No pets.”
“Lord. Now you sound exactly like Lonnie.”
“I’m takin’ that as a compliment.”
She leaned forward and tapped on a tank. “Look at these white ones with the long flowing fins. Aren’t they cool? I think they’re called angelfish.”
An employee moved in to stand next to Riss. “They’re called kissing fish.”
“Then god knows we don’t want those because they might give me ideas.”
Unbelievable.
“Can I help you with something else?” the middle-aged woman asked.
“Do you sell snakes?”
The woman jumped back. “Uh, no. We don’t.”
Ike wondered what the hell Riss was up to now. Probably a test to see if he could go with the flow.
“That’s too bad. We were hopin’ to look at a couple of snakes for inspiration.”
“Inspiration?” the saleslady repeated.
“Yeah. I just love snakeskin, don’t you? How it looks. How it feels.”
“Ah, no, not really.”
Riss pointed to her broken arm. “I love it so much I even asked the surgeon to create a fake snakeskin cast. She thought I was joking and I woke up with this ugly thing on. I reckoned snakeskin would be appropriate since I busted my gol-durn arm chasin’ coral snakes in Texas.”
You oughta be a Texan with the tall tales you come up with.
“Are you from Texas?” the saleslady asked.
“Yep. Me’n my hubby, Clem”—Riss jerked her chin toward him—“are from Texas hill country and are up here visiting my brother. How do y’all stand the cold? We about froze our naughty bits off.”
The saleslady gave a nervous laugh. “We’re used to it.”
“Well, the cold sure keeps the snakes away. I was hopin’ you might have a rattlesnake I could look at.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to sell rattlers.”
“I hear ya. Coral snakes, water moccasins, copperheads . . . they’re everywhere in Texas so nobody is fool enough to buy one.”
“Aren’t coral snakes dangerous?”
“They’re deadly poisonous. But that red and yellow is so damn pretty together that I’m determined to have my tattoo be an exact replica.”
“Tattoo?” the woman repeated.
She leaned closer to the woman and mock-whispered, “I’ll admit I’m a vain woman. I cried buckets when I saw pictures of what my skin will look like after bein’ in this cast for months. All white and wrinkly and scaly. Not to mention the surgical scars.”
The woman paled.
“But then I said to myself, ‘Bootsie, you just gotta cowgirl up. This ain’t the end of the world. Turn that scaly skin into body art.’” Riss smiled. “Lucky for me Clem is a tattoo artist. The third best in the county. He’s promised to ink me up as soon as this blasted cast is off.” Riss gestured to Ike. “Clem, sugar pie. You still got them pictures on your phone of the snakes we rounded up?”
“Sorry, Bootsie. I left my phone in the truck.”
“Shoot. I don’t suppose you’d fetch it so we can show this nice lady what I’m talkin’ about?” Riss asked sweetly. “Since she seems so interested.”
The only thing that interested this poor woman was escaping from the crazy Texas snake charmer. “No, dumpling, I’m not gonna fetch it. You’ve taken up enough of this nice lady’s time. We need to hit the road.”
A forlorn look crossed Riss’s face. “But we haven’t checked out the rope selections yet.”
And . . . they were done.
Ike discreetly grabbed a fistful of Riss’s shirt and tugged her toward him. “Let’s get you bundled up, babe.”
She giggled. “Ain�
�t he sweet? Makin’ sure my lady bits stay warm.”
The saleslady said, “I hear my manager calling,” and fled.
Ike hissed, “Not another word,” in her ear as he grabbed her coat off the cart. Feeling ornery, he zipped her cast inside her coat, turning it into a straitjacket.
“Hey. I can’t move.”
“I know.”
“Why are we leavin’? I had stuff in my cart. We didn’t buy anything.”
“Clem forgot his wallet.” He plastered a smile on as he herded her to the front of the store and outside.
Big, puffy snowflakes floated down. They were covered by the time they reached his truck.
“Clem and Bootsie? The tattoo artist and snake lover from Texas? Really, Riss?”
“Pretty great that I came up with those backstories off the cuff, huh?”
“It’s not great. For Christsake, I can’t show my face in there ever again.”
One auburn eyebrow winged up. “You hang out in the fish department at Runnings on a regular basis?”
“No, but I sure as hell can’t now.”
She grinned as wide as he’d ever seen. “Now who’s bein’ dramatic?”
He made a growling noise.
“Besides, admit that was fun. And you did go with the flow, so I’m impressed.”
He studied her.
“What? It’s exciting bein’ someone else.”
Ike continued to stare. Not because he was mad; but because he’d become mesmerized by her. The snow clouds muted the sunlight. With the dreary gray skies as a backdrop, Riss’s red hair was vibrant as fire. Her green eyes danced with mischief. Her cheeks were pink, giving her skin a beautiful glow. And those lips . . . lush and curved into a devious smile. She took his breath away. He’d never seen anyone brim with so much life.
She made him feel more alive than he had in years.
And he wanted to drink her down, letting some of her joy fill the empty spaces inside him.
He cupped her face in his hand. “No, sweetheart, it’s exciting bein’ with you.” Then he kissed her.
As soon as their lips touched, Ike’s hunger for her roared back to life.
This wasn’t a slow, getting-to-know-you kiss, even when it should have been. He pushed past his preconceived ideas of slow, sweet, gentle seduction and plowed full steam ahead, ravishing her mouth.
Riss melted into him, trusting him without question.
His hands tightened on her head, keeping her where he wanted her, where he needed her. Breathing her in as their tongues twisted and twined together. Their lips constantly searched for a better fit that’d allow an even deeper kiss. A more complete connection.
When Ike’s frozen fingers reminded him that he’d forgotten to put on his gloves, he let their lips part.
“No,” she breathed, “I’m not ready to stop.”
He smiled and continued teasing her kiss-swollen lips. “Don’t get greedy. There’ll be more of that. A whole lot more.”
“Thank god.” Riss licked the inside of his bottom lip. “I’d kill for full lips like these.”
“Baby, you can have mine whenever you want.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but why did you suddenly decide it was all right to kiss me, Mr. No-PDA?”
He whispered, “Clem can be a spontaneous guy. It’s Bootsie’s favorite thing about him.”
She laughed.
Ike tilted her head back. He loved seeing that hazy lust darkening her eyes, knowing he’d put it there. “The truth is you looked so stunning standing in the snow, them fiery red curls haloing this pretty face, I couldn’t remember why I’d been holding back. So I didn’t.”
Riss stood on tiptoe to reconnect their lips in a tender kiss. A soft glide of parted lips, followed by a lingering press of her mouth to the corner of his smile as she nuzzled his cheek.
It wasn’t a kiss packed with the sexual aggression he’d expected. Instead she’d shown tenderness that he hadn’t been capable of.
Easing back, he rained soft kisses down her chin and up her jawline. “This wicked mouth might do me in.”
“I promise my tongue on your cock will be a religious experience.”
“Of that, there’s no doubt.” His thumb swept over her nipple—not that she could feel it through her coat—as he cupped the weight of her breast and squeezed.
“Ike.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m seriously afraid my clit is gonna freeze to my panties if we don’t get in the truck.”
Never a dull moment with her.
Once they were in the truck, he said, “You gonna tell me where this date is takin’ place?”
“Sure. The Ramada Plaza.”
“The Ramada Plaza is a hotel.”
“I know.”
“You set up our date night at a hotel?”
“Not the whole night. Just a couple of hours.” She smiled—smirked, really—and patted his arm. “Is that a problem?”
Fuck no. “Not at all. It’s just unexpected.”
Riss laughed. “You have no idea. Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-one
Riss said, “Park by the conference center entrance.”
“We’re goin’ to a conference? For our first date? Really?”
And Riss didn’t say another word, ignoring Ike’s harrumphs and complaints. As he preferred, she waited for him to help her out of the passenger’s side. She paused at the outer door and looked at him.
“No matter what, follow my lead, okay?”
“More Bootsie and Clem?”
She snorted. “Watch and learn, Mr. Quad-State News Cattle Broker of the Year. Pretty prestigious award, dude.”
Ike’s gaze turned sharp. “Where’d you hear about that?”
“I did my research on you, now that we’re dating.”
“Worried that you were dating a loser?”
She stood on tiptoe and poked him in the chest. “Not at all. I just figured you needed a reminder that the sales game has been your life and obviously you excelled at it.”
“Christ, Riss. This isn’t one of those pyramid-scheme, get-rich-quick meetings?”
She motioned for him to open the door and she strode across the lobby to the registration table.
There were three people in line ahead of them, which allowed Ike to read the banner on the wall behind the desk:
Need A Career Change?
Let Us Help You Navigate
A Path To A Better Life!
Welcome To
Global Communications Outreach!
“You’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” he muttered behind her.
“Not even a little bit, cowboy. It’ll be good for both of us to listen to their spiel.”
“What are they selling?”
“Employment opportunity packages. But as a salesman I’m sure you’re immune to high-pressure sales tactics.”
“So?”
“So, keep an open mind. And a closed wallet.”
Ike stepped in front of her as the line moved forward. “No bullshit. Why are we really here?”
“You hand-grenaded your life, and my life could use a helping hand. It’s a two-hour seminar addressing those issues, followed by a buffet.”
“A buffet.”
“Yep.”
“How much did this cost?”
“Nothin’. It was free for the first fifty people who signed up.”
He leaned in. “You signed us up for this for the free food, didn’t you?”
“We’re both on a budget, so this kills two birds with one stone—food and entertainment on our first date.”
“Why is this the first I’ve heard that we’re on a budget for these dates?”
She rolled her eyes. “Common sense. Neither one of us has extra money, so it’
s only fair that we both have to stick with a free- or cheap-date rule.”
“You said no dating rules, Riss.”
“Maybe we need one rule—my rule,” she retorted sweetly. “Think of it as a chance for you to be creative when it comes to choosing what we do on your date night.”
Ike slid his hand up the front of her body. “Oh, I know exactly how my date night is gonna play out.”
“Next, please,” the woman chirped from the registration table.
“Help me off with my coat,” Riss said. “And watch and learn, baby cakes.”
“Woman, you are a menace.”
Riss smiled brightly at the stylishly coiffed fifty-something woman, who said, “Name, please?”
“I’m Jimmi Sue Jones. Jimmi with an ‘i.’” She gestured to Ike. “That’s my husband, Ike Palmer. He oughta be on the list too.”
She skimmed the list and highlighted both of their names. “Great. There you are. Next I’ll need your IDs, please.”
Riss’s face fell. “Oh no. Where’s my purse?” Then as she searched her coat, she accidentally dropped it on the floor. When she went to retrieve it, she banged her cast on the edge of the table—hard enough to make a loud noise, but not hard enough to hurt.
But the woman didn’t know that.
“This blasted cast! It’s such a pain in my rear. I was so busy trying to hurry so we wouldn’t be late that I musta left my purse on the floor of the mudroom.” She aimed a teary-eyed gaze at Ike. “I’m sorry, baby, that we drove all this way from Rawlins for nothin’. I was really hoping to find other job options now that I’m laid up with this stupid cast.”
Ike seemed at a loss for words.
“Oh, honey, I wouldn’t keep you from getting the help you need,” the woman said. “As long as one of you has a valid ID, I can admit you both, bein’s that you’re married.” She frowned. “You said your last name was Jones?”
Riss gave her a sheepish look. “Me’n Ike have only been married a month and I’m not used to my new name yet, since I haven’t had occasion to write it since the accident.”
“What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Well, it’s sort of embarrassing . . . but we were on our honeymoon in Playa del Carmen—that’s in Mexico—and we went on a Mayan pyramid tour. Not the one they call ‘Chicken Pizza’ but Coba, the one that you can still climb. I insisted on climbing it, made it to the top and everything. Anyway, on the last five steps down, my foot slipped on loose rock and I tumbled ass over teakettle to the bottom.”
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