But Claire cursed, caught on to him again and kissed him the right way. She made it French. Made it hard and long—mirroring what was happening in his jeans.
Riley turned her, putting her back against the wall so he could add some more of that body pressure without ramming his shoulder into her. Nothing would kill the mood faster than if he had to howl in pain.
They grappled for position, not breaking the kiss, and generally acting as if they were starved for each other. This time, it was Riley who stopped, but only because he didn’t want to start dragging her to the ground.
“Ouch,” Claire grumbled.
It took him a moment to realize she wasn’t saying that because of the kiss. She was rubbing her butt, and he hadn’t kissed or touched her there.
Not yet anyway.
“I think I got a splinter,” she said.
Of all the things Riley had thought she might say, that wasn’t one of them. “Where?”
She looked behind her where just seconds earlier her backside had been firmly planted against the wall. “You think it’s some kind of sign to get us to stop?”
“I think it’s just a splinter.”
But that was his hard-on talking, and Riley knew from experience that when his dick was in that particular state, wise words never came out of his mouth. Often, unwise actions followed, too.
The splinter, whether a sign or not, did the trick of getting her out of his arms. Claire signaled the end of this regret-testing/make-out session by putting a couple of inches distance between them.
His hard-on reminded him that a couple of inches was nothing and that it could still reach pay dirt and complete that whole “Me, man. You, woman” thing. But this was Claire, and he really did need to consider the consequences here. For one thing, Daniel’s proposal was still on the table.
Literally.
Della had heard that the guy who’d gone to Claire’s to collect some stuff for Goodwill had seen the engagement-ring box still on the table in her foyer.
Violate the man-rule.
Of course, that was his hard-on talking again, but Riley still had a brain. Well, for the most part. Plus, there was the other thing to consider here. He wouldn’t be in Spring Hill or even Texas much longer. A few more weeks at most. And then he’d have to leave and go wherever the Air Force sent him.
Probably to another deployment.
That wouldn’t sit well with Claire’s safe-flying ways, and it would drive her crazy knowing he was there, doing the stuff that had given him these nightmares and flashbacks.
“Arguing with yourself?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Who’s winning?” She glanced at the front of his jeans again.
“Right now, it’s a draw.” Not even close. Brainless was still in the lead. “Are you arguing with yourself?”
“Not really. I think we both know this can’t work out.” She paused, shrugged. “But the kiss was, well, really, really, really good.”
Riley smiled. He’d gotten a triple really. From Claire.
“Don’t grin like that.” She hit him on his good arm. “You know we just made things a lot harder on ourselves.” Another gaze drop to his jeans. “And I’m not just talking about that.”
Yes, he did know. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to make things a lot more complicated.
“It’s not just us,” she went on. “I’ve got Ethan to consider. If I get close to you, closer,” Claire amended, “I have to think about how that’ll affect him.”
No effect whatsoever. Again, not Riley’s brain talking because he knew what she meant. If he insinuated himself into Claire’s life, he was also including Ethan in certain parts of that insinuation. Riley didn’t know much about kids, but he knew Ethan well enough now to know that when Riley just up and disappeared, Ethan would notice. Might even be confused or hurt.
Riley would rather punch himself in his bad shoulder than let that happen.
“And there’s one more thing,” Claire went on. She actually touched the front of his jeans this time. “I know what’s going on there.” Then she touched his head. “But I don’t know what’s happening in there. I don’t know if you’re even in a place to think about kissing me again.”
Oh, he was in the right place for that, but he heard the logic of what she was saying. He cursed the fucking logic, too.
“You want to know what’s going on in my head?” he asked.
She nodded.
All right. Not exactly a shout for more, but Riley would give her what he could.
“I’m scared,” he confessed. “And if you don’t think it took a lot to admit that to you, think again.”
She nodded. “I know it took a lot. Thank you.”
Riley figured this could be the jumping-off point for a long conversation. One that he wasn’t ready to have with her yet, and if they stayed out here against the barn wall, he’d just end up kissing her again. Besides, he thought he might have softened up enough now so he could walk.
He decided to go with the safer option.
“Come on.” He slipped his arm around her waist and got her moving. “Let’s go inside. I’m ready for another cold beer. This time, I’m going to drink it.”
* * *
WELL, CLAIRE WASN’T ready for a beer. After that kissing session, she was ready to haul Riley off to bed. Her body was itching for more, more, more.
But the beer was a much safer option.
She hadn’t been just doling out lip service when she’d spelled out her concerns. About Ethan. About Riley’s mental health. About their polar-opposite lifestyles. He would be leaving soon, and she would be staying if not in Spring Hill, close enough to still call it home. And she wanted to call it home as much as Riley wanted to eye the town and his family’s ranch in his rearview mirror as he sped away.
In his uniform.
Headed right back into situations where he could be killed.
Those were all major deal breakers, and still she had to force herself away from him and start the trek back into Calhoun’s.
There was a fresh group of smokers at the back now. A small blessing. And they were in the middle of a heated discussion about the high school basketball team, so they barely noticed when she and Riley slipped past them inside.
“You’re sure this is okay?” she asked. The crowd seemed even louder and rowdier than earlier.
Riley nodded. No verbal answer. Was that because he didn’t want her to hear the lie in his voice? Just in case, Claire decided to stay close to him. However, she hadn’t realized just how close that close would be when they started to worm their way through the crowd toward the bar.
Calhoun’s wasn’t exactly a dance hall, but that never stopped people from doing just that. The dancing started in the center and spread out, sometimes with couples bumping into tables and sloshing drinks. Which was exactly what happened to Riley and her.
Terrence Joe O’Malley and Misty were doing their own version of a boot-scootin’ boogie, and they collided with Riley and her. They, in turn, collided with a table filled with pitchers of beer and the Nederland brothers. All three of them. No necks, bear-size shoulders. Low IQs. Beered up.
Never a good combination.
If Riley had been any other man in the place, with the exception of Logan, a fight would have quickly followed, but one of the Nederlands—she didn’t know which one because they were like snowflakes, and she couldn’t tell them apart—gave Riley a wobbly salute and snapped his fingers to the harried waitress to order another pitcher.
Since there were no open tables for Riley and her to do a finger snap of their own, the bar trek continued. More collisions. Claire got groped. Riley, too. And she prayed the groping didn’t extend to his shoulder. He seemed to be making progress with the physical heal
ing, and she didn’t want him to have a setback, all because he insisted on having a beer.
“Well?” Livvy said from behind her.
She wasn’t sure how her friend had gotten through the crowd at that angle, but Livvy even managed to crook her arm around Claire and yank her closer.
“How was it?” Livvy asked. Of course, she had to shout it.
There was no way Claire could answer that in this place. Probably no way to answer it even when Livvy and she were alone, so Claire just smiled and nodded.
But Livvy wasn’t exactly smiling. Even in the filmy light, Claire could see something was wrong. Livvy got Riley’s attention by tapping him on the back of the head, and then she motioned for Claire and him to follow her.
Away from the bar.
Too bad because Claire had worked up a thirst, and she needed something to cool her off.
It was impossible to ask Livvy why they were making the detour, and the detour wasn’t any faster than their trek to the bar would have been. Livvy kept herding them through the crowd, all the way to the front entrance. It was marginally quieter there but much farther away from the beer.
“Your girlfriend’s here,” Livvy announced. She pointed toward the bar. Actually, she pointed on the bar. And Claire saw the woman dancing there. It took her another moment to realize that it was indeed Riley’s girlfriend.
Jodi.
Well, that was a quick reminder for Claire of why she shouldn’t have been kissing Riley outside.
“She’s been asking for you,” Livvy added. Not looking at Riley but rather Claire.
“Me?” Claire asked.
“Her?” Riley asked. “Why?”
“It was hard to hear the details, but I think Jodi believes you stole her man.”
Well, good grief. And it wasn’t exactly something that Claire could jump to deny. Except she could. The kissing hadn’t gone beyond kissing. And an erection. But the erection had been Riley’s reaction, of course, not hers.
Riley mumbled some profanity. “Jodi’s drunk. She never makes sense when she’s drunk. I’ll handle this,” he insisted and would have started toward the bar if Livvy hadn’t stopped him.
“There’s more,” Livvy said, still looking at Riley now. “Daniel’s here, too, and he’s accusing you of stealing his girlfriend.”
Claire wanted to scream, but instead she blurted out, “Balderdash.” A word she’d never used in her life, but it beat screaming and the real profanity she wanted to use instead.
“My advice?” Livvy went on. “Why don’t we just go over to the Tip Top and have a drink?”
The Tip Top was the only other drinking place in town, and there’d be no noise or bar dancing there. That was because it was a vegan, organic wine bar, and the only people who ever went there were people over seventy or the occasional drunkard who’d been kicked out of Calhoun’s.
If Livvy had had her way, she would have pulled them right out of the pub, but before she could do that, Claire heard a shout. One that was very audible even over the crowd.
“Cindy!” Jodi shouted. “Don’t you ignore me!”
And Claire knew the woman was referring to her. “I’ll handle this,” Riley repeated, and he started toward the bar with Claire and Livvy trailing along behind him.
“Remember Daniel’s up there somewhere,” Livvy yelled.
In the meantime, Jodi continued to yell, too. “That’s right. Come on, Candy.” She was facing Claire now and waggling her fingers. “We’ll settle this woman to woman.”
“You should stay back,” Riley warned her.
Of course Claire ignored that. Yes, she was a mother, but that didn’t mean she was just going to tuck tail and run. And there was an even bigger issue here if she didn’t stand up to this loudmouth. In addition to the gossips blabbing about Riley and her smooching outside Calhoun’s, there’d be new gossip now about Jodi besting her in a showdown. Claire didn’t especially want a showdown, but maybe, just maybe, they could get Jodi out of there so they could have a civil conversation.
“Claire,” she heard when she got closer to the bar. Not Jodi—the woman wouldn’t have gotten her name right—but Daniel. He fell in step alongside her as Riley continued to lead the way.
“You’re really here with Riley?” Daniel asked. “I thought that was just a rumor.”
“No. I came with Livvy, and Riley and I ran into each other.” That was the sanitized version anyway. He’d hear the rest soon enough. Maybe then he’d want his ring back and would stop proposing to her.
They kept moving, and Claire noticed something strange going on. Something more strange than Jodi’s slurred, staggering attempts to call her names.
Chloe was her latest attempt.
But the other thing going on was that people were moving out of the way for Riley, Livvy, Daniel and Claire. She had no idea where the people were actually going because there was no room to create the path they were creating. But there it was.
And the now-open path led straight to the bar.
“Carrie!” Jodi shouted, pointing at Claire again. It was much easier for Jodi to see her now that only Riley was in the way. And the woman’s glare zoomed right over Riley to Claire.
“She’s been drinking,” Mr. Obvious—aka Daniel—said. “I should get you out of here.”
But Claire held her ground.
Unfortunately Jodi didn’t.
She brought back her hand to do another finger point, probably more name-calling, too, but the sudden motion must have thrown her off balance. Jodi let out a loud shriek and fell face forward. If Riley hadn’t rushed to grab her, she would have splatted right on the peanut-covered floor.
Riley howled. But his howl was one of pain. No doubt because the rescue had hurt his shoulder. Claire wanted to throttle Jodi for that alone. Jodi must have had throttling on the mind, too, because without any concern whatsoever about Riley, Jodi shrieked out some curse words and launched herself at Claire.
Someone got in the way.
At the exact moment of Jodi’s launch, one of the Nederland sisters moved to the bar. Moved into Jodi’s path, too. And the fist that Jodi had apparently meant for Claire slammed into the Nederland sister’s face.
Oh no.
She didn’t know which Nederland sister this was—Claire couldn’t tell them apart, either—but there were three of them, all built like their linebacker-size brothers. The sister who’d gotten hit, hit back, and her sisters hurried to join the fray. The brothers, too.
Claire couldn’t see much after that. Fists started flying. Chairs, too. A beer bottle went zinging past her, and it smacked her on the head. She would have gotten smacked with a second one if Riley hadn’t gotten her out of the way.
“Get Claire out of here,” Daniel told Riley. “I’ll take care of Jodi.”
Riley was still grimacing in pain, but Claire saw the debate he was waging with himself. He didn’t want to leave Jodi in the middle of this.
More flying beer—this time in a pitcher—must have ended the debate for him because he caught on to Livvy with one hand, Claire with the other, and began to plow through the chaos.
They were still much too far away from the front door when Claire heard a sound that stopped everyone and everything. Including her heart.
Sirens.
And the Spring Hill Police Department cruiser squealed to a stop right in front of them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WELL, THIS WAS not what Riley had in mind when he’d decided to go to Calhoun’s for a beer. Here he was at the Spring Hill Police Department, hauled in for questioning in what had become a full-fledged brawl. Riley wasn’t under arrest.
But Claire was.
And so were Daniel and Jodi.
Even though Riley had tried to explain that Claire didn’t ha
ve any part in starting or finishing the fight, it didn’t matter. Whoever had called the cops—apparently before blood was even drawn—had said that Claire and “Riley’s crazy-assed girlfriend” were fighting. The cops had gone to Calhoun’s looking specifically to break up that fight and had stormed in after Jodi and Claire just as Daniel threw a punch at one of the Nederland brothers. Or maybe it was one of their sisters.
Now there they were. And even though Riley wasn’t behind bars with them, he’d decided to stay as close as possible and was sitting on the floor across from the side-by-side cells.
Claire’s expression said it all. She was not pleased about any of this. Maybe because she was not only behind bars but was also pacing while holding an ice pack to her head where she’d gotten hit with a beer bottle.
She wasn’t alone in that cell, either.
The Spring Hill Police Department only had two holding cells, and the Nederland siblings were in one of them. Riley was convinced all six siblings had glandular issues to make them the size of tree trunks, and when they were drunk—which they were—it wasn’t safe to put anyone else in there with them. That’s how Daniel, Claire and Jodi had ended up together in the other cell.
“This is all your fault,” Daniel growled for the umpteenth time, and his growled words were meant for Riley.
Riley had given up on the notion of defending himself. Besides, it was his fault in a roundabout way. He should have insisted that Jodi leave Spring Hill. She probably wouldn’t have listened—Jodi wasn’t exactly one to do what people asked of her—but at least he could have tried. Now, here they were in this mess.
“It’s her fault,” Jodi argued, hitching her thumb in Claire’s direction. Jodi winced, probably because she’d bruised her hand when she was trading punches with one of the Nederlands.
Claire gave Jodi a look that could have instantly frozen a vat of boiling water.
“It’s your fault,” one of the Nederland sisters said to no one in particular. The clan was all stewing but mainly because they hadn’t gotten to finish their pitchers of beer before being hauled in.
Livvy stuck her head around the corner and motioned for Riley to get up. “This cop wants you to sign some papers.”
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