“Sugar stole Emma Frasier’s ice cream cone.”
“Oh, crap,” Jackie said.
Exactly.
“Vanilla or chocolate?”
“I think it was a twist.” Tara frowned. “What does it matter?”
Jackie chuckled. “Just wondering what’s coming back up.”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s so much more than the cone. I’ll take her home so you and Dad can stay after you close.”
“I hate to do that to you, but it’d probably be for the best. As busy as we’ve been, we might end up working through the fireworks, anyway.” She located the design for the kid next in line and began to prepare his skin where he wanted the faux tattoo applied. “Keep her out of the house, will you?” Jackie added.
“Of course.” Tara pulled Sugar closer as they exited the tent. “I’ll see you tomorrow—or later if Charlie gets home in time for me to come back.”
“I should’ve made your brother get his own place when he got that dog,” Jackie muttered.
Tara scoffed under her breath and started in the direction of her parents’ home, just a block away from her own two-bedroom ranch. Charlie would live at home until the day he got married, and her mother not only knew it, she loved it. Another reason Tara didn’t quite fit in. Even though she’d already been twenty-six when she bought her home two years ago, her parents had seen no reason for her to move out. They’d argued that they had more than three thousand square feet and could save her all that money on a house payment.
Though if she thought about it, that made them strange, not her. They really were the most contradictory people, tattooed Harley fanatics with an empty nest phobia. Parents were supposed to want their children to move out so they could enjoy The Good Years, not stay forevermore.
She suspected, deep down, it had a lot to do with Annabel, but Tara couldn’t change the past. No matter what she did, or didn’t do for that matter, nothing would bring her sister back.
Lost in thought, a hard tug on her arm nearly pulled Tara off her feet. She regained her balance with a few quick steps, but Sugar lunged again.
This time she got free.
Chapter 2
Wes Carter took another bite of his hamburger and surveyed the baseball diamond in front of him as he savored the flavor of his cheap burger with ketchup and mustard. If the number of men on the far side of the field were any indication, they were planning quite the pyrotechnics display for later tonight. He might just have to hang around for that, he hadn’t watched fireworks in years.
He’d had a feeling about this town when he’d read the business listings on the Internet—and not only because of the name. Further research revealed Redemption to be just what he was looking for.
Well, except for the stalker with the dog.
A wry grin lifted his lips as he scanned the immediate area. It looked like he’d finally lost her. During the few glances he’d snuck, he’d noticed her trim figure in shorts and sexy tank, with just the right amount of curves up top, and a bouncing ponytail of shiny black hair that would reach all the way down her back when set free. He loved long hair.
But whoa, he was getting off track. Between the bikers he’d seen her chumming with, and the tatts on her arms, she appeared to walk farther on the wild side than he was comfortable with these days. Hell, she even had one on her neck…her slim, delicate, tanned neck. Wild. Maybe crazy was more like it the way she’d followed him around with that hulking monster of a dog.
Wild and crazy, and pretty to boot…he felt a little zing nip at his pulse. Yeah, he was the crazy one now. He was done with women like that, and, yes, he knew all about them, he’d grown up with them. A twinge of pain in his back made him wince, despite the fact the sensation remained only in his head. Though the wound had healed weeks ago, it kept reminding him of all he’d left behind—the big city fast track with the crime and the gangs.
No more looking over his shoulder, and wild women didn’t fit into the nice, quiet, stable life he planned to build in this town. No matter how pretty they were.
“Sugar! Heel!”
Wes started to look over his shoulder at the sound of that sharp command called out so close behind him, but he never made it past the pitching mound. Next thing he knew, he laid face first in the grass, his hamburger smashed against his chest and a heavy weight on his back. He turned his head to the side so he could breath and something wet and warm doused his face from chin to eyebrow.
“Ugh,” he managed, concluding pretty quick that a dog stood on his back—a large, whining, panting monster of a dog. He hunched a shoulder and wiped the slobber as best he could, but the beast did it again.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry.”
He twisted his head to look in the direction of the voice. Slim ankles and tanned legs registered before that side of his face got swiped. That’s it—he preferred to eat dirt.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman continued, “she just pulled right—”
“Get it off me,” he said into the grass.
“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
Wes turned his head with a frustrated growl, which only excited the dog into a licking frenzy. Its massive paws dug into his shoulder blades as Wes clenched his teeth to keep its tongue out of his mouth.
“Get. It. Off.”
“Oh, right, sorry.” He felt her tug on the leash. “Sugar, heel.”
He mentally rolled his eyes. Obviously, that was a useless command.
“Sugar, come on. Here, baby. Sugar.”
The dog went still and made a sound deep in its throat. Wes frowned when the animal did it again. That’s when it dawned on him the woman’s pleas had become urgent.
“No, Sugar. Off. Sugar! Come!”
That didn’t sound good. He fought to free his arms from under his body and succeeded just as the brute made a horrible retching noise and something spilled onto his back—something very liquid-y and warm that spread even as it seeped through his clothes.
“Sugarrrrrr,” the woman groaned.
Silence fell except for the dog’s panting.
Wes felt his own stomach rebel. “Tell me a dog didn’t just puke on my back.”
“I am so sorry. She stole Emma’s ice cream cone, but she’s lactose intolerant and I was trying to get her home, but then she saw you and…well…”
He realized the dog’s weight no longer held him down and pushed up onto his knees before sitting back on his heels. As he looked down at the ketchup and mustard semicircle staining his white shirt, he heard pieces of upchuck plop onto the grass behind him. The dog began to gag again. He wanted to gag.
Wes shrugged out of his suit jacket and held it up to survey the damage as he stood. The woman shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head and leaned to the side to look with him. Her eyes were wide as she held a hand over her mouth—and nose—and stared at the dog vomit dripping from his jacket. He gave an uncomfortable squirm at the feel of his shirt plastered to his back, because he hadn’t been sweating that bad.
“Well, this is just great.” He shook his head. “Now what—”
The dog lurched forward. Wes jumped back, flinging his arms wide, but not before more puke streamed onto his dress shoes. Hands batted at his left arm so hard his jacket went flying.
“Ewww…oh, God.”
When he’d tried to avoid the dog, he’d swung his wet jacket against the front of the woman. Now she looked like she might get sick herself.
“Sorry,” he muttered, though it served her right.
“Not your fault.” She tried to hold her top away from her skin with a thumb and forefinger. “Oh, man, I can’t believe this.” She put her other hand on her hip and glared at the dog. “Sugar, bad dog.”
The dog barked and rose from her sitting position with her tail wagging.
The absurdity of the entire situation finally struck him, and Wes burst out laughing. The woman looked up, her eyes wide again, probably wondering if he’d lost his mind. She blinked at him a few ti
mes and that zing stung again, working its way along his nerves and making him very aware of her striking beauty now that he’d gotten a close up look. Her eyes were a very pretty velvet brown, framed by long black lashes.
Quiet life, not biker babes, he reminded himself.
His humor subsided to a chuckle when he glanced down at his stained shirt and pants. “I don’t have any other clothes.”
“Me neither, but I’m on my way home. I’m sorry you’ll have to make a separate trip home and back.”
“I flew into Green Bay this afternoon, and the airline lost my luggage,” Wes clarified. “I literally don’t have any other clothes.”
“Ooh… Well, that explains it.” Her head tilted, the beginning of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Even for an uptight lawyer, the suit was a bit much for the fair.”
Wes frowned. “I’m an investment broker, not a lawyer.”
“Sorry, lawyer was the first thing I thought of, and it kinda stuck.”
“That’s a little narrow-minded, don’t you think? I expected more from a small town—even from you.”
Her smile vanished. “What does that mean?”
Wes flicked his gaze to the barbed wire tattoo on her arm, and then he leaned closer while meeting her narrowed gaze. “If you dress the part, you usually are the part…Sugar.”
The dog Wes momentarily forgot leapt at his face. He received a big pink tongue across his mouth and stumbled back a step. Ugh. Wes spit to the side before wiping his mouth on his grass-stained sleeve. He frowned at the two of them, wondering who in the world named a dog Sugar.
“Keep a shorter leash on that thing, would you?”
The woman pulled the dog closer to her and commanded the animal to sit, which, surprisingly, she did. “Be nice to her, she can’t help that she fell in love with you.”
Wes stared for a disbelieving second. “What?” He looked at the dog. Her sorrowful brown eyes gazed up at him, her ears flat against her head. She blinked once, her tail wagging incessantly, her whole body wriggling. He looked back at the woman. She blinked, too, but her body remained still.
“She gets infatuated and follows people,” Miss Crazy said. Wes glanced down at her left hand. Miss Crazy indeed.
He backed up, bent over to scoop up his jacket, and then backed up some more. “Yeah, well, I’d say it’s been fun, but…”
She sighed and avoided his gaze. “I really am sorry.” She looked as if she’d say more, but then she just tugged on the leash. “Come on, Sugar, let’s go.”
Wes watched her drag the dog away, his heart beating a bit irregular, and feeling oddly disappointed. That was crazy. He wanted them to leave. Maybe he could get another hamburger. He looked down at the front of his shirt and rolled his eyes before his gaze focused on the crazy woman’s retreating back. The Great Dane moped behind her, turning its head to look at him with its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.
“Is that why you were following me?” Wes called out.
The woman paused, then turned, a surprising blush staining her cheeks. “You saw us?”
He snorted and pointed, palm up, indicating the animal at her side the size of a small horse. The woman laughed, a natural, unforced sound that sent a curl of warmth through his stomach.
“Sugar spotted you about an hour ago,” she admitted, stroking the top of the dog’s head.
“Love at first sight?” He cringed at the stupid joke, but it was the first thing that’d popped into his head.
“For Sugar it is.”
Something about the way she said that. “You don’t believe in it?”
Her gaze met his before bouncing away. “Kinda hard to swallow, don’t you think? That two people could fall in love that fast?”
Wes’s heart thumped. Yeah, ridiculous notion, love at first sight. He fiddled with his smelly jacket. The girl backed up a step, then stopped.
“You know, I only live a few blocks away if you want to get cleaned up.”
New definition of crazy: going to her house.
“You might even fit into some of Charlie’s—my brother’s—clothes.”
Ah, see now that sounded safe. She lived at home yet, and he could think of nothing better than getting out of these clothes. Well, except for…his gaze swept down and up, noting the sexy tank, low cutoffs, chain belt, and each of her tattoos. A quick shot of adrenaline left him tingling.
Crazy.
“You wouldn’t mind?” he asked, actually hoping she’d rethink an offer to a complete stranger and save him from himself.
“Of course not, especially since it’s our fault. My parents are here tonight, and Charlie’s working a double with the rescue squad—which is why I have Sugar—but I’m sure I can find something for you.”
He fell into step alongside her, but still tried to talk himself out of it. “I can just go to the store, I have a rental car—”
Her nose wrinkled. “You’ll get the car dirty, and besides, you can’t go smelling like that.”
How nice of her to remind him he stunk like dog barf. He’d been trying to ignore it. “You mean like you?” he tossed back with a half-grin.
“Yeah.” She glanced down at her shirt with a grimace, and he noticed her cheeks were pink again. It was cute, and so out of character with the tough girl persona that the tattoos and sexy tank top implied. Wes jerked his attention back to the sidewalk.
They didn’t say much on the way, but it really wasn’t that far. When she walked down a side path to the backyard gate of a huge two-story house, he followed with raised brows. Nice house, nice homey neighborhood. She must be the rebel child. He knew all about that, only he’d gone the opposite direction, from gang member to college student and now investment broker/financial planner.
His mother would’ve been proud, but his father would turn in his grave if he could see Wes now—if the stories he’d heard growing up were true. Rival gang members had knifed and shot Wes’s father when Wes was only four, so he didn’t remember much except what the brothers had told him of his father’s legend.
Miss Crazy Beautiful stood aside for him to go first, then latched the gate behind them and let Sugar loose. The dog bounded around the yard as they continued to the back patio.
She paused with a hand on the door. “I’ll be right back—what size shoes do you wear?”
“Ten and a half.”
So, he wasn’t invited in? Wes felt a familiar stab of resentment until common sense knocked him upside the head. What did he expect, she didn’t even know him. Come to think of it, she didn’t even know his—
“Between Dad and Charlie, I’ll find something.”
When the door clicked shut, Wes turned to face the yard again. The sun had dropped below the trees during their walk, but the temperature still held at a comfortable level. All other things aside, it seemed they were in for a nice summer night.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to unstick his cotton shirt from his back without success. Suddenly the smell and thought of what clung to his skin was too much, and he stipped the shirt over his head in one fluid motion. The arms caught until he yanked so hard the cuff buttons popped off. His squishy shoes and disgusting socks were next, and when he noticed chunks of food on the bottom of his pants, they followed.
And now that he’d finished his impulsive freak-out, he thought about when she came back outside. With a shrug, he decided big deal. If they’d met at the beach, he’d have been wearing pretty much the same thing. Of course, he never went to the beach, and now he had a bullet scar on his back.
He distracted himself by wondering if she wore bikinis or a one-piece.
Chapter 3
Tara reached to slide the patio door open, then paused at the sight of… Oh, God, she didn’t even know his name!
How about Sexy, with a capital S and full sizzle. He sat in a patio chair in his boxer shorts, watching Sugar’s antics with a hint of a smile on his face. A face that had taken her breath away earlier when he’d laughed and those incredibl
e light blue eyes of his crinkled at the corners. Now, looking at the body, well, the man certainly had nothing to be shy about, that’s for sure. He must work out, or play sports—lots of fat-burning, muscle-building sports.
Then she spotted the tattoo on his right shoulder. Her stomach gave a funny little flip at the sight of a dragon head, blended in blue, purple, teal and green, spitting orange and red flames that wrapped around his bicep. Wow. Even from here, she could see the incredible artistry.
Hmm…maybe she could bring the Suit home. With her dad, any tiny advantage would help, and her mom simply loved beautiful art.
Tara fanned herself as she grinned, took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Sexy turned, and their eyes met. Heat climbed her neck as he rose to his feet, and she mentally instructed her gaze to stay above his chin and not stray to his tattoo, or that nicely defined chest, or his killer abs—crap.
She jerked her gaze up and heat blazed in her cheeks. “Um…”
“I couldn’t stand my shirt sticking to my back any longer.”
Had she complained? Tara shrugged her shoulders, then remembered they had a block to walk to her house. And if his back was sticky from Sugar’s—eww, poor guy. Which reminded her, she wanted to change. She held up the clothes and a pair of her dad’s size eleven tennis shoes.
“Do you want to take a shower first? My house is right down the block—”
He looked beyond her shoulder at the two-story structure behind her. “I thought this was your house.”
“It’s my parents’ house.” She tilted her head. “What, did you think I was going to have you hose off out here?”
He smiled, kicking her pulse into high gear. “I wasn’t sure.”
She rolled her eyes and extended Charlie’s jeans and black tee shirt toward him, somewhat disappointed those muscles and the beautiful tattoo would be covered up. Mostly the muscles, though. She directed her gaze back to his.
“So…shower?”
“That sounds great.” He took the clothes with one hand and extended his other. “Wes Carter, by the way.”
Welcome To Redemption: Series Collection (Books 1-6) Page 11