by Jennie Marts
“I got this one,” she said, pulling a five-dollar bill from her pocket and handing it to the teenage girl behind the counter. “We’d like one of each please.”
“One of each?”
She shrugged. “I never like to miss out on anything. I want to fill my life with as much fun and adventure as possible. I want to see as many things as I can and do as much as I can. So if I have two choices, I like to try half of each.” Taking the two cones of sticky, swirly cotton candy, she laughed and passed one to him. “I don’t really even know how to eat this stuff.”
He pulled a piece of the cottony fluff from the cone. “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” He set the cotton candy on her tongue, and she drew it into her mouth, closing her eyes to enjoy the taste.
Opening her eyes, she grinned at him. “Oh my gosh, that was amazing.” She tore a piece from her cone and held it out to him. “Now you try some.”
Helpless to argue, he opened his mouth, flickers of heat burning at his spine when her fingers touched his lips. The sugary sweetness filled his mouth as the cotton candy dissolved on his tongue. “It’s pretty good,” he said with a smile.
Without another word, he plucked another bite off and fed it to her. This time her lips closed gently against his fingers, and he sucked in his breath at the raw desire that triggered in his gut.
First the funnel cake. Now the cotton candy. When did the sheer act of eating dessert turn into something so sexual? He had no idea, but he felt stirrings that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he wanted nothing more than to cover her sugared lips with his and kiss her senseless.
The sweet strum of a guitar filled the air, followed by the beat of a drum, drawing their attention away from the candy. A row of twinkling lights flickered to life around a dance floor, and the band came to life on the stage.
She glanced up at him, a sparkle in her eyes.
He chuckled and held out his hand not holding the cone of cotton candy. “Would you like to dance?”
“You know how to dance?”
“I know how to do a lot of things.” Cotton Creek was notorious for having large wedding receptions and lots of dances down at the local Elks Lodge. He learned to dance when he was a kid and had a surprisingly good sense of rhythm.
She pulled one more layer of cotton candy from the paper cone, popped it into her mouth, licked the ends of her fingers, and tossed the rest into the trash. “Sullivan Reed, you are just full of surprises.”
He tossed his empty cone then took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. Slipping his arm around her back, he drew her close to him and guided her around the dance floor, leading her body as he taught her the country two-step.
A new song started, this one a slow country number, and the dance floor filled, pushing them toward the center. He had one hand resting along her back, and the other held her hand against his chest as they swayed in time with the music.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he heard her hum along with the song, the vibration like a cat purring against him. The scent of her hair and perfume wafted around him, and he wanted to close his eyes and hold on to this moment.
When had he turned into such a sap? He hadn’t even noticed the way a woman’s hair smelled in—hell, he couldn’t remember how long it had been. If ever. But he noticed this woman’s. He noticed everything about her.
She tilted her head and gave him a playful grin. “It seems like plenty of people are watching now. Should we give them more of a show?”
His mouth went dry at her words. What did more of a show mean? Another kiss? People were watching. But right now, he didn’t care about any of that. His only thoughts were focused on the chance of kissing her again. And this time doing a better job.
“I wasn’t really prepared for that last kiss.” He could feel heat moving up his neck, just talking about the kiss. But her smile gave him courage. She didn’t know him, didn’t know how shy and awkward he normally was. For all she knew, he might always be charming and smooth. Yeah, right.
But she was only going to be around for a week and a half. Why not at least attempt to give off an impression of smoothness. “Maybe we should try that again, except this time I’ll be ready.”
“What do you do to get ready for a kiss?”
“Um…well…” he faltered, not really knowing the answer. He knew last time she’d nearly missed his mouth, so his aim would sure as hell be better.
She chuckled and spoke softly against his ear, her breath tickling his face and sending wild butterflies careening through his stomach. “I know I’m ready, so you better make it good.”
Oh, shit. No pressure.
She was wearing flats, but still, her face wasn’t much lower than his as she leaned back and offered him a naughty grin. Her lips parted slightly, as if in invitation, and a sexy gleam sparkled in her eyes.
Aw, hell. It was now or never.
His heart raced as he pulled her tighter against him.
He could do this. He wanted to kiss her. With every fiber of his being, he ached to kiss her again.
The soft curve of her breast pressed against his chest as her body molded to his. The rest of the dance floor faded away. All of his focus was on her—on her mouth.
Leaning in, his breath caught in his throat, his nerves alive with the anticipation of the feel of her soft lips.
She sucked the side of her bottom lip under her front teeth, and he heard the soft intake of her breath.
Closer still, he brushed her lips with his, the softest graze of a touch.
His heart pounded against his chest, and the blood rushed to his head. Pulling back slightly, he tore his gaze from her lips and glanced up at her eyes. Her expression had gone from challenging and daring to sexy and inviting.
And he took her up on her invitation.
He didn’t know where his boldness came from. Maybe from the fact that she hadn’t known him his whole life and didn’t have a preconceived idea of what he was supposed to be like. He didn’t have to be that boring, moody guy whose wife had left him.
He could be anything as far as she was concerned—even the guy who was funny and charming, and who could leave her breathless with one kiss.
Leaning in, he touched her lips again, this time with a little more pressure. She let out a soft moan against his mouth, the smallest of sounds, but the sexiest sound he had ever heard. And she made it because of his kiss.
Letting go of her hand, he slid his up her neck, cupping her cheek as he deepened the kiss. Her lips parted, and he tasted the sweet sugary flavor of the cotton candy on her tongue.
He wanted to savor her, to slowly taste and sample her lips, but instead he crushed her mouth, his body reacting on a primal level—wanting to devour and consume her. His hand on her back gripped her tighter, melding her hips against his.
Her fingers closed around the fabric of his shirt, tightening into a balled fist and pulling him closer as she clung to him.
Every synapse in his body was firing, and it felt like fireworks were going off in his chest. Heat flared up his spine as he felt her fingernails dig into his back.
The blood rushing in his ears drowned out everything else. Then he heard the distinct sound of a throat clearing and realized the music had stopped, and he was standing in the center of the dance floor, making out with a woman.
Dropping his arms, he stepped back, gasping as he tried to catch his breath, and already missing the heat of her body against his.
She blinked—a dazed look on her face as she reached out, steadying herself by gripping his arm. “Wow.”
Wow, indeed. Wow with a capital W and several punctuation marks. He’d felt that damn kiss all the way to his toes.
His face split into a grin as he watched her swallow and try to get her breathing under control. Her gaze flicked around the dance floor. Some of the couples had left, some were discreetly trying to act like they hadn’t noticed them kissing, and a few were openly gaping at them.
She offere
d him a satisfied smile then leaned in to speak softly in his ear. “Mission accomplished. Everyone knows we’re a ‘couple’ now.”
His grin fell as her words slammed through him like a sucker punch to the chest.
He’d forgotten—forgotten for just a moment—that this was all pretend. A fake setup to convince the town they were actually a real couple. The problem was he’d almost convinced himself.
What an idiot he was. Why the hell would someone like Avery Oliver even think twice about him? Just because they kissed?
Although, it was a great kiss. But maybe only to him.
She’d probably been kissed a hundred times, by guys much better than him.
Heat tingled in his face and his throat closed up. What had he been thinking?
He hadn’t been thinking. That was the problem. His brain had conveniently taken a hiatus and let other parts of his body do the thinking—other, less rational parts. The parts that let him make a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl.
Catching her expression, he watched her grin fade as she must have realized his face had changed. “What’s wrong?” Her brow crinkled in confusion.
“Let’s just go,” he mumbled, already turning to leave the dance floor.
Grabbing his hand, she spoke quietly through gritted teeth. “You need to at least act like you enjoyed that.”
He had enjoyed it. Enjoyed the hell out of it.
But apparently he was the only one who had.
Chapter Seven
What the hell was wrong with him?
Avery hurried to catch up with Sully as she watched him move quickly through the last of the crowds.
Things had been going so well. They’d been having such a great time. Something about that kiss set him off.
Hell, it set something off in her, too. Something that sent heat flooding through her body. She hadn’t been kissed like that in a long time—maybe never. It was full-on passion. A nail-scraping, toe-curling, can’t catch your breath kind of kiss.
At least it had been for her.
And she’d thought it had been for him, too. At least it had seemed like it from the goofy grin he had on his face when they’d pulled apart. So what happened? How did he go from goofy grin to sullen scowl in two seconds flat?
They made their way to the parking lot, and he yanked open the truck door for her. She slipped into the seat, and he slammed the door behind her.
Giving him a little space, she sat quietly next to him as he got in, started the truck, and maneuvered out of the parking lot.
She glanced at him, checking to see if maybe she’d misinterpreted his annoyance. Nope. His lips were set in a firm line, and his dark eyebrows were pinched together in the middle of his forehead.
They’d been getting along great. He’d seemed easy and happy, funny even. He wasn’t funny now. It was like he’d flipped a switch and a new personality had taken over.
Her imagination took hold of the idea as she conjured up the image of him as a serial killer with multiple personalities, who had just switched to the evil character that was plotting how many pieces he was going to cut her into after he viciously murdered her in the woods.
Thankfully, he turned in to the bed and breakfast, shelving her imagined murderous scenario.
“You seem angry. And I’m not sure what you’re so mad about?” she asked after they’d pulled to a stop in front of the bed and breakfast.
He let out a sigh and ran his hand through his black hair. He had great hair. She wasn’t usually into guys with beards, but he pulled it off, and the scowl somehow made him seem all the more sexy. The memory of his whiskers rough against her cheek during the kiss had darts of heat swirling in her belly, and she imagined the feel of his beard against other parts of her bare skin.
Geez, what was wrong with her? She was all over the place with this guy. She went from imagining him as a crazed killer to picturing him in her bed rubbing his beard against her thighs.
It was time to turn in for the night. Although she could just imagine the dreams she would have.
“I’m sorry. I was mad. But not at you. Not really.”
Not really? What does that mean? “You lost me.”
A sad smile crossed his face. “I know.” He pushed out the truck door and left it open as he came around to her side and opened the door for her.
She stepped out, still confused. “Did I do something to upset you? I thought the plan worked great tonight. We were totally convincing. I bet the phone lines are burning up with gossip already about you and your new ‘girlfriend.’ Leanne has probably already scratched you out of her diary and moved on to someone else. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Yeah, of course. The plan worked great. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day.”
Maybe he didn’t want to get over Leanne as much as he said he did. Maybe he enjoyed the attention of the other woman.
It didn’t matter. Why was she getting so worked up over this guy anyway? She was only going to be in this stupid small town for another week. She needed to let that kiss go. Or at least let it go for now—she could bring it out again later tonight when she was lying in the dark and unable to sleep for thinking about it, and him.
She needed to focus on what she was here to do. The story. It didn’t matter if he was angry, or sullen, or still hung up on some other chick (or that he was an amazing kisser)—she was here to write an article that would cement her promotion to a new magazine. She needed to think about that.
“You’re not trying to get out of your end of the deal, are you?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Because I’m doing my part, and I expect you to do yours.”
“No, I’m not trying to get out of our deal.” He sighed. “Listen, about tomorrow. I was going to take the Oliver guy that I was expecting out on the river anyway. Your magazine had already paid for a guided trip. I’d planned to get the raft out and float down to my old fishing cabin. We can stop and fish along the way and at the creek once we get there, then make some supper and portage back up in the early evening. If you’re up for it, we can still do that. It’ll be an all-day thing, but then I can fulfill my end of the bargain by teaching you some more about how to fish and giving you the scoop on the life of a fly-fishing guide.”
“Yes, that sounds great. I knew my boss had arranged something like that.”
Actually a day on the river didn’t sound great—it sounded kind of terrible, with the heat and the bugs—but it was something new, another adventure to add to her life. Plus, she’d get to spend the day with Sully and try to figure out what was going on with him. And hopefully get enough material to write a great piece.
At least he wasn’t trying to weasel out of the arrangement. And this way, she could have a full day to try to break through his shell again and get that other, fun, sweet guy back. She liked him a lot better. “What time should I be at the shop?”
“Probably about nine. We can get loaded up and be on the water by ten before it gets too hot.”
“Should I bring anything?” She wanted to offer to bring cookies, sandwiches, anything that would make him smile. But she had a feeling whatever she said right now would only make things worse.
“No, I’ll take care of the food and equipment. It’s all part of the package. You can experience a guided trip and get the material you need for your story. That’s what you came here for, right?”
Why did his voice have a bitter edge to it? It wasn’t like she was trying to hide that fact from him. They’d even hammered out an agreement to solidify the details. Why was he suddenly so annoyed by it?
She didn’t know, and at this point, was too tired to care. The events of the day suddenly took their toll, and she felt the weight of exhaustion settle on her shoulders. She let out her breath. “Yeah, right. That’s what I came for.”
“See you tomorrow, then.” He walked behind the truck and climbed back in, slamming the door behind him.
Whatever. She crossed the yard and trudged up the steps of the po
rch, listening for the spit of gravel as he peeled out. Opening the front door, she turned and was surprised to see him still waiting in the driveway, watching for her to make it safely inside.
Hmm. Maybe he wasn’t such a jerk after all.
Maybe.
…
The next morning, Sully got to the shop early and had all of the supplies packed and ready to go by a quarter till nine. His mood was still surly, and he was glad Matt wasn’t around, sure he would snap at the guy.
He tossed a ball of rope toward the back of the truck, then swore as it missed and fell in the dirt.
“Get away from there,” he snarled at Sadie as she ran to play with the fallen rope.
She stopped in her tracks, sitting down and looking at him as if he’d just broken her heart.
Great. The last one he wanted to take his anger and frustration out on was her. “Shit. I’m sorry, girl. I’m not mad at you. It’s not your fault.” He dropped to the ground, pulling the big dog into his lap and ruffling her furry neck.
But whose fault was it? Who was he even mad at? Avery? Why? For doing exactly what she told him she would do? They’d made a deal, and she’d played her part perfectly.
She’d told him she would pretend to be his girlfriend, and she’d done just that. It wasn’t her fault that he’d gotten sucked in and thought her feelings for him were real. She’d stuck with the plan, performed her part of the bargain.
That was the problem. She was just playing a part. He’d stopped playing and hadn’t anticipated that his actual feelings would get in the way of their arrangement.
If he were honest, he’d have to admit that he was mostly mad at himself. Mad and annoyed that he’d let himself get sucked into the emotions surrounding a woman—that he’d let his guard down and opened himself up to get hurt.
Sadie licked his face, her breath smelling like dog food. He didn’t care. She was still the only female that he was planning to kiss today.
Somehow that thought didn’t seem to improve his mood.
The sound of a car engine drew his attention, and he glanced at his watch. Nine o’clock exactly. She was punctual, he had to give her that.