by Gayle Eden
“Shhhiiitt!” issued though his cinched teeth when he finally shoved the truck in park and jumped out amid a cloud of dust. He had just caught a blur as the black bike had done the same doughnut turn and was somewhere behind him. His boots dug into the loose dirt while he jogged toward a patch of overgrown weeds, just outside the fenced pasture. He could see the figure trying to shove the overturned bike off them.
He reached it, grabbed, and had it upright before he squatted down. The dust cleared the same moment a half-gloved hand reached to unlatch the helmet.
Chin-length fox-red hair slid free. She had the helmet off and tossed between her sprawled legs.
“Are you all right?” He peered at her face, his heart still in his throat.
“I think my ass is going to be black and blue.”
He reached a hand to help her. She grasped his wrist, hauling herself up as he stood. Swiping fingers through her hair and pushing it back from her face, indigo eyes touched his lime green ones.
“Nice to meet you again, Skye.” Carter grinned, recalling the impact of those indigo eyes in the flower shop—not having seen them since she was about five years old, but recalling them distinctly—and the fox red hair.
“Hello again, Carter.” She smiled wryly, still grasping his wrist as they took each other in.
Carter wondered if she was thinking about the last time, he had seen her on that playground. The day he’d given the Taylor boy a black eye for making fun of her.
What he said was, “I hope I didn’t trash your bike. You came out of nowhere.” He nodded toward the lane.
“I live and work out that way now, remember? And there’s a big ass sign too.”
He chuckled.
She moved her hand away.
He instantly missed the touch of her fingers.
Since he was six three and she was five five—he was further stirred by her attire of a black tank T shirt that gave a nice downward view of the rounded tops of her breasts. Low-rise jeans fit her curved hips nicely. She wore riding boots.
Skye had grown up. And then some.
Pulling his eyes from that lightly freckled chest, he was telling himself to speak even while taking in her pastel pink lips, angled jaw, and straight nose. Her brows were straight over those arresting eyes, making them seem as direct as he remembered. Only then, they had been full of hurt—and shame.
He finally turned to help her hold the bike while she inspected it. Some paint was scrapped off, but it looked all right.
“I didn’t think there was anything on those Vaughn acres, but a barn.”
She nodded, grabbing a bandanna out of her pocket and wiping the bike down. “Yeah, but a big one. Old man Vaughn used it to work on tractors. It took me three months after I moved back and bought it, to get the junk hauled away.”
“What about Juda and Jesse?” He asked about the siblings who had been Vaughn’s grandkids. When he had moved away with his mother, Juda and he were the same age. So, Juda would be 35 now and Jesse somewhere in her late twenties.
“They still live there. Juda had his Grandpa’s old trailer destroyed and built a house on the rise years ago. I converted part of the barn to hold weddings, part to live in.”
Skye tucked the bandanna away then glanced at his truck, sitting cockeyed still, and then peeked up at his face.
Carter detected a blush on her cheeks and realized he had been looking her over again—not so subtly. He was trying to draw out time with her, and asked, “You said you moved away?”
“Rayne and I both did. Yes. He works at one of the clubs between here and Memphis.”
“And you do…dream weddings?” His brow cocked, mouth curving. He recalled that they looked nothing alike, the siblings. Skye was attractive in that overall way. Not perfect, but earthy warm hues in her hair, pure indigo eyes—and yes, her personality had a lot to do with what he liked so far too.
She was saying, “Couples like unique ceremonies these days.” Doing a covert flicker over him and back up. “We’ve got a deal with 4 Oaks too. I’ve rented horses and used your Grandpa’s antique wagons, from time to time.”
Carter caught that up and down scan. He was glad he’d changed and showered after helping Kane, and was wearing dark jeans and a long sleeved black undershirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. He had changed his work boots for a pair of timberlands. His hair was still drying—probably messed. But he had enough of an ego to care if he looked half way worth checking out.
Carter was also thinking—of why he had blacked that boy’s eye that day. And what Kane told him, really pissed him off—the Cassel’s leaving them nothing, leaving their big mansion on Main Street to the historical society. He realized there was a whole history of Skye, where he didn’t know what happened but could read between the lines and sense in her reactions and posture.
He really was glad that Skye did well for herself.
“I’ll stop before I get on the main road next time.”
“It was my fault,” he said. “I’m so used to being on the road, I don’t half pay attention.”
“Neither of us are the worse for it. It’s been awhile since you’ve traveled between the ranch and town.” She paused. “It’s the first time all of you have been at the ranch together, isn’t it?”
He nodded and stepped back. He hadn’t been giving her much personal space. “Yeah, first time.” He looked around and then back at her. “You’re sure the bikes okay?”
“Looks it.”
He dug in his back pocket for his wallet and handed her a business card that his cell number on it. “If it isn’t, give me a call. I’ll see it gets fixed.”
She looked at the card, read his title, smiled a bit at the logo of a buck in sunglasses sitting in a canoe, and then tucked it into her back pocket.
Carter asked, “Were you heading into town?”
“Yes. I was going to eat at O’Malley’s. They have the best steaks around.”
He held her gaze while his mind was clicking questions at his impulses. He had just gotten out of an engagement. She’d cheated on him. He had never been a great boyfriend. There was a lot shit to absorb, and decisions to be made. He had been feeling too nostalgic, guilty, and hopeful, that his restlessness would end…
At a glance, they weren’t each other’s type either.
Her hair was catching glints of a lowering sun. She intrigued him. She was riding a motorcycle, obviously living and operating a business out in the boonies. Those eyes got to him years ago. They still made his stomach cinch. They revealed and at the same time hid so much. She was a tough woman with a soft feminine— something, under it that was tantalizing.
“Probably not a good idea,” she murmured quietly, as if reading his mind.
“Ya think?” His grin came easy. He liked that it made her blush.
“Some of the older generation have long memories. Most people our age too. Thankfully, that doesn’t override the younger generation and new to town people who keep us booked up for weddings and parties.” Her smile was dry. “But old rumors have given way to new ones. “
“Did I ever give a damn what people say in Maple Grove?”
“I remember that—on the playground.” She bit her lip and presented him her profile a moment while scanning the horizon. “Rayne does too. He blacked Taylor’s other eye.”
“Good for him. So let’s meet up at O’Malley’s for dinner?”
She looked at him, scanned him downward, upwards, slower. She was considering and Carter knew it.
What she said was, “Looks like life has been good to you, Carter. You were something of a hero to me, after that schoolyard incident. You deserve it.”
A frown rippled his brow. “And?”
“And there are a lot of years you weren’t here. The Cassel’s took us in, but they weren’t parents.” She shook her head. “I’ll be blunt. There was no love in that house. We had no contact with Mom then. When Rayne was old enough, he went to see her. She gushed all over him, but that was be
cause she wanted to use him. The both of us. She wanted to use us to involve Brice Salinas… to try to get her out. Some bad stuff went down and Rayne got into some trouble—All Moms’ doing. He became the town black sheep. The bad boy that folks walked a wide berth around. After being locked up, he took off. He sent for me eventually. I was more than happy to leave this town and that house. I came back, but in the eyes of others, nothing has changed.”
“I’m sorry for that—the past, Skye. But I don’t see what it has to do with now. And I’m not some white hat hero.” Carter shrugged. “I’m a few years older than you, and got a few lucky breaks, despite my father’s death, and having to leave 4 Oaks. I’ve screwed up a few times too. But we’re all grownups now.”
“Yes. We are.” Her gaze touched his. “Some other time. Maybe. If you hang around long enough.”
Carter wanted to push it but didn’t. He read what she was saying, and thought he knew why she was laying it out there.
He nodded slowly, murmuring, “Fair enough.” He gave her his best grin and a wink before sauntering to the truck. He got in, got it straight in the road, and was soon pulled out.
Carter tried not to make her eat dust though the helmet was a full visor one. He kept watching her behind him in the mirror. He had sympathy for the kid she’d been, the circumstances. However, he had admiration for the adult woman she was. He knew what (baggage) was. He had some of his own.
He hadn’t felt this kind of electric attraction and intrigued combination for someone, in a very long time.
Carter kept checking on her after they hit blacktop and going through the intersection to the main part of town. She signaled and pulled into a flower shop. He blew the horn and headed on to O’Malley’s.
Chapter 3
Skye checked on the flowers they needed, catching Adeline Hunt just as she was closing up the shop—and getting a puzzled look from her, because she didn’t usually stress over a simple order.
She headed afterwards to O’Malley’s—against her better judgment—and found the parking lot crammed, and then spotted that green and gold truck amid a dozen more. It was getting dark now. Country music floated out as patrons came and went through the double oak doors.
Parking the bike, she had her helmet on her arm, but lingered, lit a cigarette from the pack tucked in her boot… and called herself a chickenshit for not going in yet.
Carter Croft. Of all people to ask her to join him for dinner—that—was surreal. He really had been her hero when she was a kid. Tommy Taylor made her life a living hell every day of school before he’d decked him. In the days when she and Rayne were dragged pillar to post by their Mom, they were the target of bullying and taunts, she had imagined Carter would show up and silence them all. He hadn’t. He’d moved away. But, it was a moment in time, a day when one person besides Rayne had showed her they understood the pain of her world.
The man was hard to resist.
Her ass really was going to bruise.
It was almost worth it
He had smelled expensive cologne that made her mouth water, and a hint of earthy fall. His voice—low, with a honey smooth drawl. That grin—made her tummy flutter. Pulling on the long cigarette, she leaned her hips on the motorcycle seat and released tense smoke. Skye ignored a few people who spotted her and stared. Yeah, it took balls to come back and make a life in this town, to start a business like the one she had. Of course, it helped that Jess was her partner. That she was careful in her personal life. Shit. Her stomach was growling. It was also tight and tense.
Skye crushed out the cigarette and headed inside.
For the time, she was distracted being seated at a small table near the bar, then ordering her beer and steak stir-fry. A window looking out to the lot kept her from having to scan the patrons and notice who was staring at her. It was a discomforting fact of her life, thanks to having an addict Mom who was still doing time. Likely, it would be reality—for the rest of her life.
Country music, talk, the clank of plates and silverware, pervaded. Her beer came via a young waiter who she thanked politely. The guy she had once dated didn’t work tonight. Skye was turning from looking out the window, taking a long drink, when her eyes encountered a pair of lime green ones.
Carter had apparently been served at the bar. He was half turned; talking to an older man, who she vaguely recalled was a farmer and cattle trader.
Carter smiled fully, showing strong white teeth. Though, he was talking to the man, his gaze stayed locked with hers for several moments.
She looked away first and unclipped her IPhone, blowing time until her food came, sifting through messages. There was one from Rayne. She messaged back that she would see him Saturday night, as usual. The stir-fry was served up. She ate, drank the beer, but Skye was aware of Carter looking at her on and off. She was aware that people came up to him, offered condolences, asked what he’d been up to.
She consumed about half her food and went to the restroom. Doing a quick mouth rinse, Skye noticed with a groan that her eyeliner was smudged at the corners. She did repairs, and decided her hair looked like shit—and used her damp hands to smooth it. Drawing in a steady breath, she determinedly left the restroom, avoiding looking at the bar and collected her helmet, then paid her tab.
Skye made her way back outside and was striding to her bike when she noticed Carter—leaning against the outside restaurant pillar, smoking—in front of where she’d parked.
The sable hair, short, layered, suited his chiseled looks. Carter had long powerful legs and lean hips. The soft T-shirts hugged his torso and wide chest, a ripped stomach. He was simply too handsome to not stare at. Lips, semi full, brow strong, his nose, on the arrogant side, though broken at some time—probably when he played university football. Lashes, too thick to believe. Eyes narrowed against the smoke while he watched her place the helmet on the seat gave him a sexy look.
Skye dug out another cigarette and went up to him. His bent knee brushed her thigh as she asked for a light.
He dug a lighter out of his front pocket and lit it, then tucked it back. When she had puffed, and exhaled smoke, their eyes locked in the mist of it.
“Getting colder at night,” he remarked smoothly.
“Yeah. But I love fall.”
“Me too.” He took a drag, letting some of the smoke release from his nostrils, lashes lowering enough, so that even in the faint spray from a streetlight, she could feel what he was feeling while they looked over her face.
Attraction. Tension. Those instant and unexpected male/female things that two healthy people would feel. They knew, but didn’t know, each other. Even that added something to it.
It was simple for Skye. He was virile, built like OhmyGod, handsome, potent, and his eyes were, stomach-tightening beautiful. She would have to be dead not be attracted.
The rest was not at all simple.
They finished smoking.
Skye’s awareness ratcheted up. Her skin warmed in the crisper air. A lot had gone on during that staring. They were both old enough to know that.
Carter offered a mint after lowering his boot and straightening from the post. She took it, popped it in her mouth, and then put her helmet on.
When she pulled out later, he was behind her.
Skye’s mind tried to function during the ride homeward. She felt high, light headed, a lot turned on. Those red flags and mental flashing lights seemed to be deserting her by the second.
It did not happen for her like this. Okay, so there weren’t any Carter Crofts in her (adult) past, to have this effect on her.
Near the dirt lane, on the pitch-dark road, her headlight glowed. His did too—because he had stopped.
She killed the engine when he’d pulled over and got out of the truck. Taking the helmet off again, Skye was smoothing her hair, watching him saunter toward her, thinking—that nighttime did not dilute any of his assets.
Carter offered, when he reached her, “You should have just joined me for dinner.”
“Yeah.” She smiled, a whole lot tingly and very off balance by his determined attention. “I should have.”
Carter reached out, cupped her chin, dipping his head down. He kissed her. His lips were supple and cool. He straightened, husking, “They’re as soft as they look. I was too damn curious not to find out.”
His hand left her chin but those strong tanned fingers brushed against her cheek while his light eyes skimmed her face. “First time I’ve ever got really turned on wrecking a girl and smoking a cigarette.”
She cleared her throat and laughed. When he drew his hand from her, Skye husked, “It wasn’t that good for me. The wrecking part.”
He chuckled low. “I am sorry for that. Really.”
“Umm.” She fought the urge to shake her head, but stared at his mouth as she offered, “You move fast, Carter Croft.”
“Not normally. Skye.”
Her eyes moved up to his.
“You seeing anyone—Juda?”
She shook her head, no. “We dated as very young teens. And I was an angst-ridden one—lots of drama in my life.” Skye winced. “We can laugh about it now, but I kind of took off in the middle of us supposedly going together. I came back. We had both grown up a lot. Juda did his stint in the service, had a kid, got divorced, the way life doesn’t stand still for anyone. We’re friends.”
“Anyone else in town you dated?”
“Why?”
He shrugged and looked around, then back to her. “I just broke off an engagement. Came home from a sales trip. She was in bed with my best friend. I was on the road a lot.”
“Ah—Rebound.”
He didn’t break the stare. “Doesn’t feel like this—has anything to do with that.”
“What is this?” she asked softly, afraid, excited, very turned on by him. She had never had a guy use a hard and soft approach, and be intense and gentle at the same time.
Yeah, he was tempting…
“Attraction...”
She nodded.
“If we’re honest. Some lust.”
Again, she nodded.