by Amy Andrews
Actually, to be precise, she’d kissed him, she’d made the first move. But he’d followed her willingly into it, clocking her first move, maybe even subconsciously waiting for her to make it, then seizing it. Running with it.
He didn’t know what in the hell had come over him. He’d never even thought about kissing CC prior to moving to Credence. He might have noticed she was a woman from time to time, but that was as far as it had ever gone.
But they’d become…friendlier this last little while, and dancing with her tonight? That’d been a game changer. Hearing her so wistful about his parents’ close relationship had been gut-wrenching. Making him realize anew the impact of her parents’ broken marriage.
You’re lucky. That’s what she’d told him, and he knew it for a fact. He knew having a stable home life had set him on the path to success. He didn’t doubt that he had the talent to get to the top without all that, but it had kept a good head on his shoulders while he’d gotten there. Having seen too many ball players throw away their chances by allowing themselves to get distracted, he was grateful for a solid upbringing.
“Beer,” he said to Tucker as he approached. “Keep ’em coming.”
Tucker took one look at him, reached for a bottle, cracked the lid, and set it in front of him.
“What? No umbrella?”
Tucker cocked an eyebrow but reached under the bar, extracted an umbrella, and shoved it in the neck of the bottle.
“Satisfied?”
Wade snorted. Tucker had no clue just how unsatisfied he was. With what had happened. With his part in it. With how horrified CC had looked. With how he’d wanted to sweep her up in his arms like Rhett fucking Butler, take those stairs two at a time, and toss her on his bed. Or hers.
Or hell, the door, the nearest wall, or that goddamn staircase, if she’d been amenable.
Yeah…they could not speak about the kiss as much as she wanted, but it wasn’t going to stop him from thinking about it every waking moment of the day.
“What bug crawled up your ass?” Tucker asked.
“I’m fine.”
Tucker looked pointedly at the umbrella. “Whatever you say.”
“I’ll have another one of those piña coladas, please.”
The quiet female voice came from Wade’s right, and he glanced over to find Della, Arlo’s sister, sitting two stools down. He’d been so steamed at himself, he hadn’t seen her when he’d plonked his ass down.
“You’ve had three,” Tucker said.
“In two hours.”
“Arlo’s not going to be happy.”
“The woman has to wrangle Bob Downey all day, get her a goddamn piña colada,” Wade grouched.
Della seemed momentarily surprised before shooting him a smile. “Thank you, Wade.”
Tucker sighed but headed down to the cocktail end of the bar. “How you doin’, Della?” Wade asked. “You been at the street party?”
“Sure have. It was wonderful.” Her eyes sparkled, and Wade smiled. Della may have arrived here a couple of years ago as a frightened little mouse, but she’d clearly come out of her shell quite a bit since then. “Your mom’s such a powerhouse, isn’t she?”
Wade half laughed, half grimaced. “That she is.”
“I haven’t seen Credence this alive the whole two years I’ve been here.”
“Yeah.” Wade nodded. It’d been a long time since he’d seen it like this, too.
Tucker came back with a piña colada, setting it down in front of Della. “Drink it slowly.”
Della drew a cross over her heart, and Wade grinned. “Where are the others?” he asked.
“Arlo got called out. Drew’s over at the booths.”
He tipped his chin in the direction of the semi-circular booths. Drew was there, surrounded by three women who seemed intent on his every word.
“He’s telling them his life story, isn’t he?” Wade said.
“That’s the way to bet.”
Wade squinted as he realized two of the women looked remarkably alike. “Am I seeing double?”
“Nope. Molly and Marley, twins. From New York.”
Tucker waggled his eyebrows, and Wade laughed. He had no desire to court double trouble, but he was all for some distracting conversation.
Wade slipped off the stool, glancing at Della. “I’m heading over. You want to get away from this bozo?”
Tucker flipped him the bird. Della just shook her head. “I’m good here, thanks.”
“Alrighty.” He touched the brim of his cap. “See you later.”
Drew grinned up at him like a Cheshire Cat as Wade approached the booth. “Wade!” He lifted his beer glass. “Join us.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” Anything to keep his mind off the slow-motion reruns of the hottest kiss he’d had since he couldn’t remember when. Probably his first one under the high school bleachers. His gut was still heated from the afterglow. Unfortunately he could also still see CC’s mortified face and hear her horrified gasp.
“Sit here.”
The woman to his right scooched over, and he slid in beside her. Drew performed the introductions, careful, as usual, not to make a fuss over Wade’s identity. Just, this is my friend Wade.
Simple.
The twins appeared to be in their late twenties and were clearly identical, with long, lean builds and cute chipmunk cheeks. The only hope of telling them instantly apart was their hair. Molly’s was brown with no bangs and all one length, brushing her shoulders, where the ends kicked up a little. Marley’s, although a similar color and length, was a lot less conservative. The cut was more choppy and layered, and her bangs, which were almost down to her chin and carelessly flipped back, were dyed a vibrant purple.
They both had truly magnificent eyebrows, thick and perfectly arched. Wade absently wondered whether they were tattooed. A recent date had told him it was the latest fashion thing.
The other woman, sitting opposite Wade, was Winona. She seemed a lot closer to his age than Molly and Marley, bigger, though, stronger, with muscular arms and an angular face that was more interesting than pretty. Tall, statuesque.
Great rack.
In total contrast to her muscular physique, her hair was a riot of honey-blond curls. She was like Xena the Goldilocks Princess. She wore an anti-nuclear pendant on a leather thong around her neck and similar leather cords around her wrists, strung with beads and shells. All she needed was a garland of flowers and she’d be the full hippy.
Xena the Hippy Goldilocks Princess.
Arlo was just going to love that. He was professionally bound to think all hippies were up to no good.
She peered at him through narrowed eyes. “So, you’re The Catapult, huh?” Her voice was a husky vibrato, reminding Wade of smoky speakeasies.
Wade shifted uncomfortably—so much for the ball cap.
“Yes.”
He put on his game face and tensed for the usual questions and requests for selfies from the women. They didn’t eventuate. The twins confessed to not being avid football fans—they were never going to survive here in Bronco country—and Winona said she only ever watched the Super Bowl, but mostly because of the ads as she’d worked in advertising for a while.
Which suited Wade just fine. He wasn’t short on adoring fans and didn’t need his ego constantly stroked, unlike other players he knew. As CC would say, his ego was big enough.
And if his brain could just stop thinking about her every five seconds, his body would be sincerely fucking grateful.
“You should ask Winona what she does, Wade,” Drew said, still grinning. Marley and Molly nodded enthusiastically, their smiles almost as big as Drew’s.
Wade played along. He’d been going to ask anyway. “It sounds intriguing, whatever it is,” he said, smiling at Winona encouragingly.
Her answering smile
softened her features. “I’m a writer.”
“She writes romance novels,” Molly supplied.
“Erotic romance novels,” Marley added.
Wade didn’t think it would be appropriate to laugh right now, but thinking about how that news would be welcomed by the town populace made his lips twitch. Forty years ago, a teacher who had taught at the elementary school had penned a raunchy novel about a fictitious small town, which had caused much consternation and scandal in Credence as everyone had tried to work out who was who.
It didn’t matter how many times she maintained the characters weren’t based on anyone in Credence, suspicions ran high and she eventually left town.
Winona’s eyes narrowed again, clocking his twitch. “You don’t approve.”
“Not at all. Erotica for everyone.”
“Cheers to that,” Drew said, lifting his glass.
“Are you planning on moving here to write?”
Winona nodded. “Yes…I am, actually. I’m looking for something quieter, more secluded after Chicago. And I can write anywhere, really.”
Wade didn’t blame her. He’d never gotten the fuss about the Windy City.
“Wade’s writing a book at the moment,” Drew said.
“Oh really?”
Wade shrugged it off. “It’s just a memoir.”
Winona nodded. “You’re doing it yourself?”
“Yes.”
“My condolences. Writing’s hard, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Wade laughed. “I had no idea. My PA nagged me to get a ghost writer, but I figured how hard could it be, right?”
Aaaaand he was back to CC. That kiss. That mouth—sweet and hot and urgent under his. The press of her breasts against his chest, the hard pebbles of her nipples.
Cali-fucking-fornia.
Wade chugged half his beer bottle and turned to Marley. “What do you do?”
“I’m a hairdresser.” Which explained the vividness of her bangs. “I work in a salon in Queens. Mol and I work together. But she does all the beauty stuff.”
Molly nodded. “Pedicures, manicures, facials. Makeup. Waxing.”
Waxing.
The urge to smile again intensified, but Wade did a better job of suppressing it this time. He knew his mother would love having a hairdresser in town, but he couldn’t wait to hear the gossip if these two set up a business offering bikini lines and Brazilians on the main street.
“Manscaping too,” Marley added.
Drew almost choked on his beer, and Wade laughed as he gaped at Marley before turning his attention to Molly. “Is that what I think it is?”
Molly nodded shyly. She was definitely the more reserved sister. For someone who was taking money to rip hair off cracks, backs, and sacks, she certainly blushed easily.
“It’s anything from facials and pedicures to tanning and…waxing.”
“Wax?” Drew blinked. “Near my…” He trailed off, but his expression said it all. Drew looked like he’d rather have his eyeballs waxed than let anyone near his junk with a boiling-hot substance designed to rip hair out by the roots.
“I think the word you’re after is penis,” Winona provided in her husky voice, all matter-of-fact and anatomical.
“Don’t you mean love club?”
The question came from behind his shoulder, and Wade glanced up to find Arlo, his arms crossed, an eyebrow cocked at Winona. “Isn’t that what you erotic writers call it?”
Clearly Arlo and Winona had already met.
Wade was surprised at the edge in Arlo’s voice, but on closer inspection of his friend’s face Wade could see a red mark and a slight swelling to Arlo’s cheek bone. They weren’t there earlier, so he could only assume that whatever he’d been called out to had gotten nasty.
Maybe Arlo was still running on adrenaline.
“Only the bad ones.”
Wade laughed. Adrenaline or not, Arlo deserved that, and watching him get smacked down by a woman never got old. Arlo often came to Denver on police business, and Wade was always amazed at how gaga women went for that uniform and the prosthesis. The number of offers Arlo had had from women wanting to help ease the pain of losing his leg was impressive.
Winona, on the other hand, looked like she’d wanted to whip off his prosthesis and beat him with it.
“And you’re one of the good ones, I suppose?”
Winona quirked an eyebrow, folding her arms. “I’m very, very good.”
Obviously annoyed at the response, Arlo pierced Drew with the look they all liked to call his bad cop face. With the shiner on his cheek, it looked pretty damn fierce. “Where’s Della?”
Drew had known Arlo too long to be fazed by bad cop. He just grinned, and Wade pressed his lips together so he wouldn’t laugh again. “She’s at the bar.”
Arlo frowned and looked over his shoulder. “What in hell is she doing at the bar?”
“Lion taming?” Winona suggested, her voice full of sarcasm.
Arlo ignored Winona, glaring instead at Drew, then at Wade in turn. “She shouldn’t be drinking.”
“Why?” Winona demanded. “Is she underage?”
Arlo, not used to being questioned, blinked. “No.”
“An alcoholic?”
Wade could hear Arlo grinding his teeth from across the booth. If he was a betting man, he’d say whatever job Arlo had just attended had put a real itch up his spine.
“No.” Although Della had relied a little too heavily on a glass or two to smooth out the edges when she first arrived, and Wade knew that Arlo worried it was an easy crutch for her.
Knowing what his sister had been through, even when he hadn’t known she was his sister, had been a hard thing for Arlo to come to terms with. Arlo was a rescuer—that was what he did. It was how he’d lost his leg. It killed him to think he hadn’t been able to do the same for his own flesh and blood.
“Does she turn into a gremlin?”
Drew laughed and raised his glass to Winona. “I think you’re going to fit in around here real well.”
Arlo snorted, obviously unimpressed. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” Arlo snapped, turning his wrath on Drew.
“She’s right there,” Drew said, a little exasperated now, pointing at Della oblivious to the interchange at the booth.
Drew glanced at Wade, who lifted a shoulder. Arlo obviously needed to blow off a little steam, and they were copping the brunt. That was the way it happened sometimes.
Arlo didn’t say any more, just turned on his heel and strode away.
“Who shoved the stick up his ass?” Winona asked.
Wade laughed. He very much suspected that the job had, tonight. But Winona had very definitely given it a twist.
…
CC woke, disoriented, a few hours later. She was hot from still being fully dressed and buried under the covers, and there was a buzzing in her head that wouldn’t go away.
Maybe she was hungover? But she hadn’t had anything to drink. Maybe it was one of those silent migraines. Or a stroke? That might explain her demented behavior with Wade tonight.
If whatever the hell it was could just result in some kind of associated amnesia so she never had to relive that embarrassment—or the passion—again, it mightn’t be so bad.
The buzzing stopped suddenly, and CC turned her head and squinted at the luminous dials of her kinetic digital clock, so out of place next to the art deco lamp under the canopy of her original four-poster bed it was laughable.
Three-thirty.
The buzzing started again, and CC realized it was coming from her phone, which she’d dragged under the covers with her to Google how to induce memory loss until she fell asleep.
Who on earth was calling at this hour? She snatched it up. It was her oldest brother, Joey.
Mom.
He
art suddenly fibrillating in her chest, she hit the answer button, vaulting upright. “Joey? What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?”
“Mom’s fine. It’s Dad.”
CC’s pulse settled quickly at her brother’s assurance, but the ominous note in his voice didn’t bode well. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. No one called at this hour in the morning with good news. Good news could wait until a decent hour.
She knew, even before she asked “What happened,” what her brother was going to say.
“He had a heart attack. He was revived, and they took him to the OR, but his heart stopped again and they couldn’t restart it.”
CC had a complicated relationship with her father. She’d spent most of her life torn between yearning for him and hating him. Her brothers had been older at the time of his leaving, so they’d actually had a relationship with him. One they could remember, they could hold on to.
She’d had nothing.
She knew from overhearing family gossip that she’d been her parents’ last-ditch effort at staying together. At rekindling their love. It had failed.
She had failed.
And, rightly or wrongly, she felt responsible for her father’s desertion.
But she’d always thought that one day, they’d work things out and she’d have the kind of relationship she’d always fantasized about. Or at least a less acrimonious one.
“CC?”
Joey’s voice was laced with concern. It was probably wrong to have a favorite brother, but Joey was hers. Because he was the oldest, she knew he felt as betrayed as she did over their father leaving, and the solidarity had been comforting.
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
CC didn’t know how to feel. Between what had happened with Wade and her dad, her brain bulged with too much stuff. “No.”
“Will you—”
“Yeah.” CC didn’t think her father deserved her prayers or her presence, but her mother did, and this was a time for family. “I’m leaving now.”
Chapter Fifteen
The sun was warm on Wade’s back, and it wasn’t even ten in the morning yet. But it felt good to be out in the field with Wyatt, stringing a fence. Good to have hard physical labor take his mind off CC. Off the kiss. Off her overnight disappearing act. Off the note she’d left him.