Lori Wilde - [Cupid, Texas 02]

by All Out of Love

  “That and Kip Kramer who replaced you is smoking hot in preseason. Haven’t you been watching TV?”

  Honestly, he’d been too busy with the ranch, his dad, rehab, and pursuing Lace. Maybe he’d avoided the TV because watching Kramer lead his team was too painful. Or maybe all that activity had just been a distraction to keep his mind off what was coming.

  The guillotine.

  Frankie gave him a look of sympathy and ran her manicured fingers over his upper arm. “Hang in there, champ. I’ve got my ear to the ground. We’ll get you a deal somewhere. Detroit is hurting for a decent quarterback.”

  Detroit? What a comedown. He’d worked his entire life to become a Dallas Cowboy. He’d achieved his dream, been at the pinnacle of his career, gone to the freaking Super Bowl, and in the end, his fate had been sealed on national TV. If he signed with Detroit, the move would be nothing but the first big, ugly grease spot on a long, painful downhill slide.

  “You’d be manna from heaven up there,” Frankie went on, and cast an eye at Lace. “Can you take a meeting with me so we can talk details?”

  “Right now?”

  “If you can,” Frankie said.

  “I’m on my way to take Lace to the airport,” he said.

  Lace touched his hand, and her eyes were full of sympathy. “Let me see if Melody can reschedule my meeting until tomorrow so I can be here for you.”

  Ah, damn, she was feeling sorry for him. He gritted his teeth. He hated to let her go. All he’d have to do was ask her to blow off that meeting and she’d do it in a heartbeat.

  For him.

  “You have the gardening class to teach tonight.”

  “I’ll call and cancel the class.” She whipped out her phone, turned it on. “I’m staying here.”

  That was a biggie. Realizing she was willing to put her job in jeopardy to stay here and bolster him while his career was falling apart. He couldn’t allow her to do that. She was starting to care about him too much. Hell, he was starting to care about her too much, and right now, he couldn’t make her any promises. Not with everything up in the air.

  He heard his old high school coach, Cab Martinez, holler inside his head, Are you in it to win it?

  All his life, the answer had been yes, but when it came to Lace, he no longer saw her as something to win. There were consequences here. If he took things to the next level, made love to her, and it turned out to be something more than great sex, and then he couldn’t deliver on a long-term commitment, he could hurt her badly, and he’d rather break his leg ten times over than do that.

  The only option he had was to play defense. Say something to make her get on that plane.

  He put a hand to her wrist. “I’ll call you a cab. Go to your meeting. Teach your class. You’ll just be in the way here.”

  DURING THE TUESDAY evening gardening class, her gaze kept drifting to his empty seat in the front row, and several times during the lecture, she lost her train of thought because she was thinking of him.

  She thought he might at least text her and ask how her meeting with the Trans-Pecos Historical Society went—they became a sponsor and even promised a small endowment once the gardens reopened, if the gardens reopened. But apparently he had too much else on his mind to think about her.

  She didn’t hear from him the next day or the day after that. Lace had to admit her feelings were bruised, even as she realized that he had probably withdrawn to lick his wounds after learning the Dallas Cowboys dropped him. There was also the issue of Abe’s mysterious illness. It was a lot for anyone to deal with. Still, she kept hearing his parting words. You’ll just be in the way here.

  Maybe it was for the best, he had his problems to deal with, and she had hers. Now wasn’t really the right time to start something, even if that something was only sex.

  Her impulse was to leave him be, clear her own head, and stay busy helping Melody get ready for the event—time was slipping up on them fast after all, Labor Day was the upcoming Monday—but she also kept picturing him alone and hurting without anyone there to offer moral support, so despite her fear that he might not want to hear from her, she sent him a text message on Thursday night.

  She texted HIG, trying to hit a casual note with the abbreviation for How’s it going? There was a long lapse. She gnawed her bottom lip. Had she made a gaffe? Just as she started to obsess about whether she should have texted him or not, her phone pinged that she had a message.

  Lace?

  Her heart gave a ridiculous hop of joy. Yes.

  Hey.

  Now what? Before she could compose a carefully worded reply, Pierce sent another text. So glad you texted. I was thinking of u.

  She caught her breath and typed, How’s yer dad?

  Better.

  Diagnosis?

  Not yet.

  Okay. They’d covered his father’s condition. Where did she go from here and why was she feeling so preposterously excited? R u ok?

  Hanging in there. Thks 4 asking.

  Will u b home for gala?

  I’d never let you down, but Melody’s got me hopping with events all weekend long.

  Me too.

  So I guess we won’t see each other until Labor Day.

  Her mouth went dry. How did she answer that? Her fingers trembled as she punched in, See u Monday.

  Pick u up @ 6 for dinner at the vineyard.

  She ached to keep the conversation going, but was afraid she’d make a misstep. How to sign off? She wanted to strike the right balance between cool and anticipation. Can’t wait.

  Lace held her breath, waited for his response, and when it wasn’t immediately forthcoming, she started fretting. Had she come across as too eager? Ack!

  Seeing u again is the only thing keeping me sane.

  Clutching the phone tightly in her hand, she did a little happy dance. Nite.

  I’ll dream of u.

  Lace smiled and turned off her phone, so very happy she’d had the courage to make the first move.

  Chapter 14

  Stamens: the male parts of a flower.

  IN spite of all the sexy fantasies dancing in her head when Pierce came to pick her up on Labor Day for the final event of the weekend, the fund-raiser dinner at Mon Amour Vineyard, she was completely unprepared for the overwhelming sight of him in a tuxedo. He’d gotten a haircut, and late afternoon sunlight turned his hair honey gold. The clean, smooth lines of the midnight black tux were in sharp contrast to his rugged good looks. Lava rocks on velvet. The man was craggy luxury.

  It was all she could do not to rub both eyes with her fists to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, and here she’d believed there was nothing sexier than Pierce in Wranglers and cowboy boots. Learned something new every day.

  He had his hands clasped behind his back and he flashed his straight white teeth at her. His gaze honed in on her with pinpoint precision. Uh-oh. Drop her in boiling oil and she wouldn’t burn as much as she did from the sizzling heat of his gaze.

  She felt like taffy, pulled in so many directions, and the running commentary through her brain wasn’t helping matters. I want him. But am I going to get my heart broken? But how could this be wrong if he makes me feel so good. Wine makes you feel good until you have too much, puke your guts up, and wake up with a raging migraine. So a little taste isn’t a bad thing, then. Just don’t overdo. A sip. Half a glass at most?

  “What do you have behind your back?” she asked.

  “I brought you a little gift.”

  A gift? For her? A sweet, fizzy sensation, as if she breathed in champagne bubbles, washed over her. “That wasn’t necessary.”

  He took his hands from behind his back. She was expecting flowers. Who wouldn’t expect flowers from a dreamboat guy in a tuxedo? But it wasn’t flowers, at least not exactly. In his hands he held something that looked like a giant chestnut with a thick squamous stalk in the center, and it was roughly the size of a toddler. The image of this dapper man putting on the Ritz holding the gigantic tuber of Amorphop
hallus titanium was a picture Lace would never forget.

  “Omigosh.” She put a hand to her mouth. “This is absolutely amazing.” She fisted her hands, shivered, did a little dance, and then moved to wrap her arms around the tuber, trying to keep it away from her dress, but the thing did weigh twenty-five pounds.

  He held on to it. “Where do you want it? I’ll carry it there for you.”

  She glanced around her living room, which was jam-packed with plants she’d brought home from the botanical gardens. “Could you carry it out back to the greenhouse for me?” she asked. “But I’ll need to try and make room for it. I’m maxed out on space since the gardens closed.”

  “Tell you what,” he said. “We’re running a little late. How about we just find a handy place to stow Lulu for now, and after the event, I’ll take her to the greenhouse for you.”

  Lace grinned. “Lulu?”

  He shrugged. “She comes with a name. Who knew?”

  “Lulu,” Lace said dreamily, and stroked the tuber as she beckoned for Pierce to follow her into a kitchen strewn with planting tubs, grow lights, seed packets, potting soil, trowels, and other tools of her trade.

  “How do you cook in here?”

  “I’m not much of a cook.”

  “Where do you eat?”

  She nodded to the only spot at the kitchen table not loaded down with some kind of plant product.

  “What if you have guests?” he asked.

  “It hasn’t come up.”

  He looked like he didn’t believe her. “Not ever?”

  “I’ve only lived here since April.” She guided him toward the deep stainless steel sink. “Put Lulu in here.”

  The tuber wouldn’t fit in the sink. Pierce arched his eyebrows. “Next?”

  “Okay, just put her on the one empty spot on the table.”

  Pierce got Lulu settled and washed up at the sink while Lace pushed her glasses up on her nose and studied the tuber intently. “She’s magnificent.”

  “So you like her?”

  “I love her. In fact, I think it might be the most perfect gift anyone has ever given me. How did you know I’ve always wanted Amorphophallus titanium?”

  “You told me once.”

  Lace scratched her forehead. “I did? When?”

  “You were about eight years old. You showed me and Jay a picture of the corpse plant and spoke glowingly of its infamous stink.”

  “How is it that you remember that when I don’t?”

  He lowered his eyelids, gave her a sultry look. “I remember a lot of things about you, Lace,” he said in a voice so low and seductive that her toes curled inside the high-heeled shoes she did not want to wear. “I remember when you were a kid and you used to keep little orange clay pots of plants in your bedroom window.”

  “Lima beans,” she said. “They were the first things I ever grew. My grandmother Rose bought me this miniature seed kit when I was five. I can still remember that magical feeling I got when I saw the first sprout and watched it grow to produce beans. When I saw the first bean, it felt like Christmas morning. Except as it turns out, I hated lima beans.”

  “The Christmas morning equivalent of a stocking full of coal?” He chuckled.

  She made a “yuck” face. “In spite of the lima beans, the allure of planting seeds and watching them grow had taken root inside me.”

  “Gardening became the love of your life.”

  So far. Unnerved, she moved back to the table to run her fingers over Lulu. “Where did you get her? It’s not like you can run into your local nursery and pick one up.”

  “Let’s just say that being a star quarterback has its advantages and Frankie knows a lot of people with pull in San Antonio and most of them owe her favors.”

  “I’m not surprised about that. Your agent is very beautiful,” she said.

  “She is.” His eyes twinkled.

  “It must be very distracting having such a beautiful agent. I imagine that can blur the lines.” Shut up! Stop talking.

  “What?” Pierce’s grin widened. “Did you think Frankie and I—”

  Lace made a sputtering noise. “Na … no, of course not.”

  “You did! You thought Frankie and I were lovers.”

  “No I didn’t,” she denied.

  “You’re jealous.”

  “I am not!”

  “That’s why you got all weird at the hospital.”

  “It didn’t get all weird.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Okay,” she admitted. “Maybe I was a little jealous.”

  “Lace,” he said. “You have nothing to be jealous of. You’re the whole package: beauty, brains, wit.”

  She gulped and smoothed her dress even though it wasn’t wrinkled. No one had ever sweet-talked her this way. While she craved it, she was simultaneously terrified of it because it made her only crave more. “Let’s get this thing over with.”

  “Is being with me such torture?” he asked, lowering his eyelids to half-mast, looking all bad-boy sultry.

  Um, yeah, the best kind of torture. Problem was a girl could get seriously addicted to his brand of tender torment, and where would that leave her if the supply dried up?

  Just like any addict, of course, hooked, hung up, and hopeless.

  THE SETTING OF Mon Amour Vineyard was picture perfect. Cousin Melody had outdone herself, but the extravagance only made Lace fret about how much of the cost of putting on the event hadn’t been picked up by sponsors. Whenever she asked about the financial situation, Melody would wave a hand and say, “You have to spend money to make money. We’ll discuss all that after it’s over.”

  Tables and chairs had been set out across the slope of lush green grass achieved through constant watering. Behind the expanse of lawn, the vineyards rolled in a friendly wave of fruit, following the hilly slope that led up to mountains. Twinkle lights draped loosely from the pergola over the dance floor. Men wore suits and tuxedos; women were in cocktail dresses and evening gowns. The owner of a car dealership in Alpine had arranged to have a makeshift stage erected, and a five-piece orchestra played chamber music.

  And Lace was on the arm of the hottest quarterback in the NFL.

  It was something straight out of a movie where the nerdy girl in high school gets revenge on those who treated her shabbily by ending up with the high school quarterback.

  How many times had she imagined such a scene? Briefly, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to savor the beautiful, fragile moment. How many times did a schoolgirl fantasy come true?

  And as much as she’d kicked up a fuss about the dress, she had to admit it looked gorgeous on her. As soon as they were spotted, handlers took hold of Pierce and whisked him away, leaving Lace alone feeling foolish and out of place, a swift kick of reality. She might be on the arm of the quarterback, but she’d never be in his league.

  “Wait!” Pierce said, shook off the handlers, pivoted, and strode back to her. He leaned down to plant a big kiss on her lips right in front of everyone. Cameras and cell phones snapped pictures. He was not hiding the fact that he was with her.

  “Find out where we’re sitting,” he whispered. “I’ll come find you when the dog-and-pony show is over.”

  Her heart gave a crazy pitter-pat and she placed her palms over her chest. Easy. Calm down. Good advice, but she couldn’t help tilting her head to watch him walk away. The man was pure sex on two legs.

  Immediately, Melody, Natalie, and Zoey grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her off to the side to grill her about her relationship with Pierce. She tried to play it cool but she didn’t know if she pulled it off or not. She didn’t want people to start defining their relationship before they had. She kept searching the crowd for Pierce, spotted him glad-handing sponsors. Women were all over him like honeybees to clover.

  Her joy evaporated. Don’t be jealous. He came with you. He kissed you in front of everyone. Lace smiled, fingered her lips.

  “You’re looking mighty smug,” Zoey said
. “Have you two done it yet?”

  “Zoey!” Natalie chided as she rested her head on Dade’s shoulder. He mussed her hair and drew her closer, nuzzled her ear.

  “Oh, you’re one to talk.” Zoey snorted. “You and Dade have barely gotten out of bed all summer.”

  “You’re just jealous.” Natalie patted Dade’s flat stomach.

  “Hells to the yeah! Where’s my man?” Zoey bemoaned. “I want my Prince Charming.”

  Dade murmured something to Natalie and cupped her fanny in his palm. Natalie giggled, and Dade guided her off toward the winery.

  “Ten bucks says they’re going off to do it right now,” Zoey said, moving in time to the music, which had shifted from the elegant classical music to the haunting “You’re Beautiful.”

  “No way. I’m not losing ten dollars,” Melody said.

  Lace couldn’t stop herself from searching the crowd for a glimpse of Pierce.

  “Seriously, where is my guy?” Zoey whined. “Natalie’s got Dade, Lace has got Pierce. Monumental score, I might add.” Zoey raised a palm to Lace. “High five on that one, cuz.”

  “Pierce isn’t mine,” Lace said, not wanting to jinx what was developing between them. If she dared to want it too much, it could evaporate under the strength of so much desire.

  “That kiss he just planted on your lips says differently.”

  “I’m just his escort for this event.”

  Zoey folded her arms. “I’m not buying it. The dude is your high school crush and you lassoed him! Be proud. Puff out your chest and strut!”

  “I didn’t lasso him, Zoey.”

  “But you could. He’s ripe for the plucking.”

  “Yes, and see all those women ready to pluck him?” Lace nodded to where a couple of female reporters were hanging on Pierce. Jealousy delivered a swift kick to her abdomen. “Who wants to contend with that?”

  “If you let Pierce Hollister slip through your fingers, Lace Bettingfield, you’re not half as smart as I thought you were,” Zoey scolded. “He’s within grabbing distance. Grab him!”

  “Zoey, life isn’t like some fairy tale. Where you gaze into a guy’s eyes and it’s bam! bap! a lightning strike.”