He was good looking, a real ladies man. Didn’t spread himself thin, but close. He was an equal opportunity man, liked both women in the life and Towners. Pecan was full of good-looking women, and she couldn’t blame him for wanting to sample the merchandise. He was a single male in a small town.
Then there was his work with the Blue Mustangs. She’d heard nothing but good about what he’d been trying to do, increasing the fundraising side of their lifestyle to include kids with cancer and organizing rides to escort fallen soldiers to their final resting places in the area. Those were all good things, things that showed you what a man was like on the inside.
That’s when it hit her: she knew exactly what to do with his art. She grabbed a black pencil and started to sketch.
*****
He couldn’t concentrate. He’d been daydreaming instead of rebuilding a carburetor for one of the Towners. He could still feel her fingertips on his skin. The flesh over his ribs warmed every time he thought about her. He was acting like some fifteen year old virgin with his first crush.
He couldn’t wait for closing time so he could see her again.
Attempting to focus on the task at hand, Christian never noticed Atticus coming in through the bay door. “You need a hand with that?”
He started, dropping the screwdriver he’d been holding loose in his hand. “Something I can help you with?”
“Yeah, I heard you hit my kid up for some ink.” Atticus leaned against a support pole, his arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight.
“I did. Saw something she did a couple of years back on Sam. Thought she might could fix an old mistake.” He picked the screwdriver up and attacked the innocent carburetor.
“I thought I warned you to stay away from my daughter. I guess I was just talking to myself.” Pulling away from the pole, Atticus tried to make himself look even bigger than he was already.
Christian stood, letting everything drop to the floor and facing the old man. “You warned me, but you don’t control me. I don’t want to fight you, old man, but you seem to have come here looking for one.”
“She don’t need to get caught up with the likes of you. I know what kind of man you are, seen more than a few young bucks like you in my day. Hell, I might’ve even have been you at one point in my life. I don’t want that for my little girl.” Atticus moved forward threateningly.
Christian stood his ground. He really didn’t want to scrap with the old man. “What do you think you know about me? Rumors? They’re a disease in small towns and in clubs like this one. You don’t like me, I get it, but you aren’t going to tell me what I can or can’t do with my personal life.”
“No, I guess I can’t, but I can sure as hell make sure Sandy doesn’t become another notch on your bedpost.” Atticus spit the words out like they tasted bad.
“Well, that’s up to your daughter, now isn’t it?” Christian knew he was pushing the old man’s buttons, but damn if he wasn’t tired of the way he was being treated. “I don’t force women, and I don’t lie to them.”
“You don’t stick around, either.”
“Not if it’s not right, no.” Christian sat back down on the old milk crate he used as a seat and picked his tool and his part back up, dismissing the old man with his action.
“My daughter, she’s no fool. She’ll see you for what you are. She always does, eventually.” With those parting words, Atticus left.
No, she’s no fool, Christian thought to himself as he returned his attention to the carburetor in his hand.
*****
It was well after five when Sandy finally stepped back from the paper and looked at the final product. It would be some of her best work, and it would also be expensive to ink. She hadn’t taken cost into consideration when she’d started. That was something she’d have to discuss with Christian.
Cramped up from sitting in one position, she got up and stretched, moaning when her neck popped. She turned and found her Daddy leaning against the door, smiling.
“Haven’t seen you all day. Thought I’d come see if you wanted to get a bite to eat with your old Dad.”
“That sounds perfect. I’m starved.” She put her pencils and pens away, folded up her sketchbook and tucked it into her bag.
“It’s hot in this old room. Maybe I can get a window unit or something put in here to keep you cool.” Atticus put his arm around his daughter’s shoulders and they walked in tandem to the main room, weaving around the dinner crowd already inside.
“That would be awesome. When I’m with someone and the door is shut, it’s like a furnace in there.” She pulled her chair out and sat down, fanning herself with a menu.
Mariah noticed them and came out from the kitchen to sit beside her at the table. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d died in there. Hungry?”
“Famished.” She smiled and kissed the older woman’s cheek. “You know what I want, right?”
“The same thing your Daddy has every Thursday night-- meatloaf, fried potatoes, and a big glass of my special sweet tea.” She got up, kissed Atticus on the top of his head, and went to make their plates.
“Mari sure is happy you’re home.” Atticus said, smiling after the woman who’d saved his life more than once in the past twelve years.
“Are you?” Sandy asked, her eyes serious.
“Don’t be silly, Sandy girl. I’m always happy when you’re home.” Atticus smiled but it was tight, not relaxed like it used to be.
He was lying. She could see it in his eyes. Maybe he could hide it from other people, but never from her. He wasn’t upset she was home, just upset that she’d come home an adult. He wouldn’t be able to influence her the way he had when she was younger. That bothered him.
Mariah returned with their plates but was too busy with the dinner rush to join them. They ate in silence, both of them leaving too much unsaid. Halfway through her meal, her phone beeped at her. The text from Christian, no doubt. Her Daddy looked at her to see what she’d do. Respect had her keeping the phone in her pocket until the meal was done.
The first thing she did when Atticus excused himself to take care of an issue at the bar was to grab her phone. The text was short and to the point. ‘Done yet?’
She texted back, ‘Yep. Come to the club. There’s an entrance on the side.’
Seconds later he sent back, ‘omw, pretty girl’
She hated that she smiled at the words on her phone’s screen. She also hated that she was tempted to go to the restroom to freshen up and comb her hair. She really hated it when she gave in to temptation.
CHAPTER FOUR
Still stewing over the confrontation with Atticus, Christian pulled up to the side where Sandy’s little shop was and stared at the door. He probably should have taken some time to cool off before coming here. He was wound tight, and problems at the shop hadn’t helped the situation after the old man had left. His neck and shoulders were tight with tension as he took off his helmet and strapped it in place on the back of his bike.
He pushed open the door without knocking, liking the way Sandy’s breath caught when she saw him. As a bonus, a slight flush of color spread across her cheeks. “I startled you. Sorry.”
Sandy eyed him closely for a moment. “Huh, I don’t think you’re sorry in the least.” She watched as he came in and made himself a spot in her small space.
She’d been raised around tough, stubborn men her whole life. One thing she knew at a glance was a man on the edge. The set of Christian’s shoulders was hard, and he was holding his neck stiffly. Since coming in she’d noticed him clenching his fists repeatedly. He was trying to appear as if nothing were wrong, but something was definitely bugging him.
“Bad day?”
Her quiet question was unexpected. He surprised himself by answering honestly: “Yeah. Gruesome.” He scrubbed his hands over his face, suddenly tired.
“I wanted to talk to you about some things before I show you what I did--” she began, turning to get her sketchbook off the small d
esk. When she turned back he was standing, towering over her where she sat on the stool.
“Take a ride with me?” he asked, staring right into those gorgeous green eyes of hers.
Immediately her guard went up. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Christian.”
He liked the sound of his name on her lips. “Because your Daddy thinks it’s a bad idea, or because you think it’s a bad idea?” His smile was a promise of something wild.
That got her back up. “Maybe a little of both. Maybe you’re used to women who are willing to jump on the slut seat after a flash of that smile, but I’m not one of them.” She got up, pacing away from his closeness to stand by the door. “This obviously isn’t the right time to do this.” She put her sketchbook into her satchel, disappointed.
He sat back down, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “I guess that came out all wrong. Look, I need to blow off some steam, but a ride is all I am offering. I can see you’ve been cooped up in here all day, so I thought you might want to come along.”
To her shock, she found herself reconsidering. It had been a long day, and she was on edge as much as he was. Maybe a good long ride where she could just let go for a bit would be good. Her Daddy’s warning came to the front of her mind. He’d be pissed if she went. She wanted to go.
He could see the war raging in her head. She wanted to come, but was it her Daddy’s warning holding her back or something more? “We can head out by Fielder’s Pond. It’s a shorter ride, but cooler around the water.”
Fielder’s Pond was one of her favorite places, and she hadn’t had a chance to go since coming home. The temptation was too much. She grabbed her helmet off the shelf by the door and her satchel with the sketchbook inside. “Let’s go.”
CHAPTER FIVE
How many rides had she been on in her life? Thousands? Hundreds with men who weren’t a relative. None of them affected her the way this ride did. From the moment she’d settled in behind Christian, she knew it was different.
At first she’d kept her distance; or at least as much as possible. Then he’d hit the curve at the end of the road to the clubhouse and poured on the speed, forcing her to snug up and hang on.
The night was hazy and heavy with heat, the humidity almost unbearable. Even with the air generated by the ride, the area where their bodies touched was soaked with sweat. The pure male scent of him combined with the honeysuckle sweetened air was doing a number on her. She was sure that he could feel the hard tips of her breasts rubbing against his back. It was one of her girlhood fantasies come true.
The road to the pond came up and Sandy breathed a sigh of relief. She needed a break before she embarrassed herself any more. She hopped off the minute he stopped, pulling her helmet off and shaking out her sweat-dampened hair, her legs wobbling.
“You alright?” Christian asked, pulling off his helmet and swinging his leg over to sit on the seat sideways.
Color rode her cheeks at his question. He’d obviously noticed the shakiness in her legs. “I’m fine, just overheated I think.”
He tossed her a bottle of water from the pack on the side of his bike. “This is the hottest summer since I moved here. That’s saying a lot, considering it’s always hot here.” He watched her throat work as she gulped the water. “At least it’s slightly cooler down here by the water.”
She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and tossed the bottle back to Christian. When he took off the lid and put his lips around the mouth where she’d just had her own, she had to look away.
He capped the water bottle and stuck it back in his pack. He was having a hard time getting himself under control, and if he stood up right now he’d make a fool out of himself. How could he not react when she’d snugged those tight thighs up around his and pressed her hard nipples into his back? He’d felt the way her breath got rough the minute she’d gotten close.
“My Daddy has warned me to stay away from you.” Her voice was husky and low. When he looked up she was staring off at the water, her hands in her pockets.
“Your Daddy warned me to stay away from you.” He stood and took three steps, close enough to reach out and touch her, far enough that she could easily stop him. “Wonder why he’d feel the need to do that?”
She couldn’t answer that question honestly. Not without betraying what her Daddy had said, and she wasn’t going to do that. Thunder rippled overhead and she looked up, the first drops of rain hitting her face.
Within seconds the sky opened up and lightning crackled a little too close for comfort. Christian grabbed her hand and ran for one of the picnic shelters. They were soaked by the time they got there and took cover.
Hopping up on the top of the picnic table, Sandy pulled the hair back off her face and tried to wring some of the water out of it. “Hell of a time for Mother Nature to decide to do some watering.”
She was completely unaware of how naturally sexy she was. She’d laughed happily at being caught in the rain, running through it like a kid, never once screaming about her hair getting ruined or her clothes getting wet.
Without conscious thought, Christian moved in close to her. Taking her face in his hands, he roughly took her mouth. Her hands dropped from her hair and grasped his wrists tightly. A moan rolled up her throat and into his waiting mouth. She tasted like cinnamon, spicy and a little sweet.
Breathing hard, Sandy pulled back. “This is a really bad idea.”
“Best idea I’ve had in years,” he replied, taking her mouth again, sweeping his tongue inside and exploring slowly.
She wasn’t shy when it came to sex. Never had been. Maybe it was because everyone in her life had been so matter-of-fact about it. It felt good, and done right it was safe for everyone involved. Still, this was the man who’d played center stage in every fevered dream fantasy she’d had since the age of nineteen when he’d walked through the door of the Blue Mustangs club with tight leather pants and a bad attitude. A man who, up until yesterday had acted as if she hadn’t existed.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her bottom to the edge of the table, fitting his hips snugly into hers. Her hands dug into his sides for leverage to pull herself even closer, rubbing her aching breasts against his chest. His deep moan was a reward, and she wanted more.
Breaking away from her lips, Christian pushed her down, gritting his teeth when she wrapped her long legs around his hips. He yanked her shirt up and pulled her bra down, cupping her handful-sized breasts. She squirmed, and the seam of her jeans ran up his denim covered erection. He could feel how hot she was through both layers of clothing.
She rose up on her elbows slightly, just enough to watch him touching her. His hands were rough against the smoothness of her skin, and watching him was insanely erotic. His eyes were focused on her and dark, so dark. It was a look she’d dreamed of seeing so many times, but this was all wrong. “Stop.”
Christian immediately took his hands off her and placed them on the tabletop on each side of her. “You okay?”
She shook her head. “I can’t do this, Christian. Please take me back.”
“I didn’t intend to do this.” He stood up straight and stepped back, giving her some room to fix her clothes back.
She pulled her bra up and top back down and held out a hand for him to stop. “I know you didn’t. That’s not the problem.”
“Atticus?”
“It’s hard for me to just disregard his wishes. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, and so that’s another issue I have to take into consideration.” She climbed down off the picnic table. “I’m not sure I can start something with someone my Daddy hates so much.”
“I get it. I’m not good enough for the old man, so I’m not good enough for you either.” He wasn’t mad, just tired. So tired.
Sandy walked right up to him and looked him dead in the eye. “I have no clue if you’re good for me or not, Christian. I don’t know you. I know what people have said, but that is rumor and I’m not so dumb that I
would put stock in rumors—or the people who spread them.”
Her eyes were spitting fire. He’d pissed her off by accusing her of being like everyone else. He didn’t want her to be like all the others. He didn’t know why, he just knew he wanted her to be more. “I’ll take you back to the club.”
She nodded and gathered up her things, following him back to the bike. This time when she got on there was no shyness. She moved in close and wrapped her arms around his waist as if she’d ridden with him a thousand times.
He liked the way she felt, the way she laid her head on his back. She might have doubts, but she felt something for him already. He was going to work on her, and Atticus could either deal with it or explain to his daughter exactly why he hated Christian so much.
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