She laughed, reaching to accept his hand. “Tara Russell, and I was just—” Their palms connected and Tara lost her train of thought at the same moment her mouth went dry. “Um…”
“Tara,” he said as if testing her name. “Nice to meet you.” Then he chuckled and glanced over his shoulder. “Sugar…not so nice, but you’re okay.”
“Gee, thanks.” She didn’t want to let go of his warm hand, but pulled back just the same and jerked her head to the right. “My place is this way.”
He looked down at his boxers and bare feet with a grimace. “How far is it?”
“A block.” He looked indecisive, so Tara put her hands on her hips and scolded, “You know, I told you I’d be right back, no one asked you to strip.” Oh, but she was glad he had.
His gaze snapped up as his ears turned red. “Listen—that stuff was starting to get really ripe—”
“Easy, there, I’m only teasing. I completely understand.” Tara grinned and pointed to her own stained top. “Now, you coming or what? Everyone’s at the fair, anyway.”
“Yeah, sure.” He leaned down for his clothes, giving her a nice view of—Tara hurriedly looked for Sugar so Wes wouldn’t see where her gaze had focused.
“Any chance I can get a bag for these?” he asked.
“Of course.” Tara got the bag, then called for Sugar as he stuffed his clothes inside. The dog bounded up, prancing with endless energy as she licked Tara’s leg, then turned to swipe her tongue across Wes’s foot.
“All right, dog, enough with the tongue.”
Tara caught her collar and clipped the leash on. “Sorry. I’d leave her here, she’s Charlie’s dog, but she’s a bit destructive if she’s left alone. Separation anxiety.”
He stared at her like she was nuts. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I were,” she answered and led the way toward her house. “She’s a little…” she paused and leaned closer to whisper, “…psychotic.”
“No, really?” His brows rose and though he kept a straight face, there was a smile in his voice. “Never woulda guessed.”
The toe of her sandal caught on an uneven sidewalk crack, and Tara stumbled against him. Her breast brushed his arm before he grasped her elbow to steady her. “Whoa, you okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.” She fought a strong urge to lean into him.
The approaching rumble of a Harley brought her back to reality as they walked up to her front porch. The bike turned into her driveway and Tara unhooked Sugar, who raced to the motorcycle. Tara smiled not only at the dog’s antics, but because now that Charlie was here, she wouldn’t have to worry about Sugar slobbering on Wes anymore. The guy had obviously had enough.
She cast a glance at Wes, who eyed her brother with suspicion. Tara’s brows rose in surprise; he hadn’t even met him yet.
“Boyfriend?” Wes asked without looking away from Charlie.
Now she grinned. “Brother.”
Wes still didn’t relax. Especially when Charlie strode toward them with his chest puffed out, eyed Wes up and down, and asked in his gravelly voice, “What the hell is going on here?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Charlie, this is Wes Carter, he’s in town from…” She glanced at Wes to supply the information.
“Denver.”
“Wes, this is my brother, Charlie Russell.”
They nodded at each other and shook hands, firmly, by the way they both leaned into it. Though he appeared a little more intense than usual, Charlie was being Charlie, and Wes…well, poor Wes stood there in his boxers and bare feet. Of course he had to act tough. Tara smiled pointedly at her brother as they released the handshake.
“Wes needs to take a shower because Sugar puked ice cream and you-don’t-even-want-to-know-what-else all over him at the fair.”
Charlie frowned in her direction, even as his nose wrinkled as if he could now smell the vomit. “You know she can’t have dairy.”
“Tell her that—she stole Emma Frazier’s cone.”
An odd look crossed Charlie’s face. Before Tara could wonder about it, he’d turned to Wes. “I’m sorry about that.”
Wes lifted his right shoulder, the one with the tattoo. “I don’t hold a grudge. Besides, your sister’s apologized enough, and borrowed me some of your clothes.”
“That’s the least we can do,” Charlie said, his attention caught by the dragon. “Nice tatt.”
Wes looked uncomfortable and almost seemed to angle it away from Charlie’s view. “Thanks—so are yours.”
Tara watched Charlie lift his shirtsleeve to show off an eagle with the American Flag on its outstretched wing. She was so used to seeing his multitude of tattoos, she barely noticed them anymore, and couldn’t remember if it was new.
“Our mom has a shop in downtown Green Bay,” Charlie said.
“Nice work.” Wes glanced at Tara, his gaze shifting to her neck. “She do yours, too?”
“Yep.”
Charlie opened his mouth, but Tara cut him a quick look. “Are you done for the night?” When he nodded, she shoved the leash at him. “Good, then Sugar’s all yours. And you owe me five bucks for replacing Emma’s ice cream.”
Charlie wound the leash around his hand and tightened it into a fist. He looked at Tara, then at Wes. “What’s going on tonight?”
Oh, come on, not again, darn him. “Charlie—”
“As soon as I wash your dog’s puke off, I’m going back to my motel,” Wes responded.
Tara fought a wave of disappointment. Stupid brother. She wanted to wrap that leash around his neck and pull hard. Instead, she acted as if everything was just fine. “And I’m going back to watch the fireworks.”
“Are you meeting Roger, or any of the girls?”
Tara really wanted to kill him now, making it sound like Roger was more than just a friend. “Mic and Tracy are in Chicago this weekend, and Roger had a date. I guess my consolation prize would be you, dear brother, you wanna come?” she asked, her voice full of honey.
He glanced toward where Sugar circled his bike, nose to the ground, then looked at Tara with suspicion. “You know she chases the fireworks.”
Tara gave him a tight smile. “Yeah…oh, well. It’ll be nice having the blanket all to myself. Good night, Charles.” She didn’t wait for him to acknowledge her dismissal as she turned to unlock her door.
“Don’t forget, I’m only four houses down,” he said. Tara clenched her jaw until she heard the Harley roar to life.
“What the…?”
Wes’ disbelieving question made her turn around to find him staring after her brother. Sugar sat on the front of the bike in Charlie’s lap as he peered around her big head and drove down the street. Tara shook her head and flipped on the living room and porch lights.
“I told you, she’s psychotic.”
In the added light, Wes’s muscled back compared favorably with his bare chest. Tara frowned as she noticed a pink puckered circle of skin to the left of his spine, just above his boxer’s waistband, but he turned before she could figure out exactly what it was. She stepped inside so he wouldn’t notice she’d been staring.
He walked past her. “Psychotic is an understatement.”
She shut the door and turned around to get a closer look at the scar on his back. But as she wondered what’d happened, he stood with his back to the wall, checking out her house. There wasn’t much to see: living room, kitchen, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms down the hall. It was small, but it was hers, which made it perfect. Glad she’d cleaned that morning, she led him though the living room and down the hall.
“You can use this bathroom; there are towels under the sink,” she told him after opening the door and then continuing toward her room. “I’ve gotta get this thing off.”
“Thanks.”
She plucked at her shirt, wrinkling her nose. She lifted the hem as she walked, pulling it over her head before she realized she hadn’t heard the bathroom door click shut behind her. Heart pounding, she glanced over h
er shoulder in time to see the door close. Relief left a tingle in her veins. What had she expected, that he’d be right there, ready to jump her?
No, he seemed like an all-around nice guy, and besides, Charlie had been about as subtle as a Harley.
Still, she locked her bedroom door before going into her private bathroom to wash up and change—one didn’t have to be completely stupid. She replaced her black tank with a more conservative white one and a thin red sweater, her shorts with a pair of faded jeans, and kept the same sandals. After brushing her hair, she decided to leave it down, then dabbed on some perfume just in case.
The shower was still on when she walked down the hall past the guest bathroom, so she retrieved the bag of clothes Wes had left on the porch and headed for the basement. The phone rang on her way back through the kitchen and she picked up the cordless handset.
“Why hasn’t he left yet?” her brother demanded when she answered.
“Geez, Charlie, he’s still in the shower.”
“He better be out of there in five minutes.”
She drew in a deep, controlled breath. “This is exactly the reason I moved out.”
“You don’t even know who this guy is, Tara.”
“I’d like the chance to find out, at least. I’m not sixteen, and I’m not stupid.”
I’m not Annabel. She didn’t say it, but from the silence on Charlie’s end, she knew their sister was on his mind, too. Tara felt bad, she missed her like hell, too, but she was tired of paying for Annabel’s mistakes.
“Did you know Lauren started dating someone?” Charlie asked abruptly.
His wounded tone caught her off guard. “Not until I ran into her earlier tonight, why?”
“No reason.” But the casual brush-off came a beat too late. Sympathy melted Tara’s resentment as she realized Charlie liked Lauren. No wonder he’d been wearing his hair shorter the past couple months.
“Charlie—”
“Like I said, five minutes.”
He hung up on her, and she sighed as she continued downstairs to treat the ketchup and mustard stains on Wes’ white dress shirt. She set it to soak before starting a load with her black tank and his dark pants and suit jacket. The tags instructed dry clean only, but no way would that cut it. If she was careful, it’d be fine.
His wallet and car rental keys had been in his pants pocket, so she picked them up to take upstairs with her. Curiosity gnawed at her, but she resisted snooping until she reached the top of the stairs. Just a peek—to see how old he was. She opened the wallet, scanned his driver’s license quick, then flipped it closed again, feeling like a nosey jerk.
Westin Carter was thirty-one, lived in Denver as he’d said, and he was an organ donor. Picturing him in the suit, that didn’t surprise her. But the tattooed, boxer-clad hottie didn’t seem the type to put an orange sticker on his license.
Tara frowned at herself. She was doing the same thing he’d done earlier—judging him by his outward appearance when she knew better than anyone that the surface could conceal a lot. He’d pointed out she dressed like a wild woman so she must be one, but he didn’t know she’d only been in costume, or the fact that she’d probably never find the guts to follow through in real life. Letting a stranger take a shower in her home was the craziest thing she’d done in her unexciting life.
She closed the basement door, then jumped at the sight of Wes striding down the hall, so tall and handsome, dressed in her brother’s tee shirt and jeans. She gave him a casual once over, thinking the clothes looked so much better on Wes.
“Everything fit okay?” she asked while handing over his personal items with a slightly shaky hand. Guilt for snooping or nervousness over her strong attraction to the man? Either way, she attempted to ignore both.
He pocketed the items and lifted a shoulder. “They’re a little snug, but not uncomfortable.”
And that’s why they looked better on Wes.
Chapter 4
How was she sexier in jeans and a cover-all, zip-up sweater than shorts and a skimpy tank top? Wes wondered. Maybe because now she looked more like the kind of woman he’d decided he should date, than the untamed biker chic that turned him on.
Either way, it was no good. He knew what the red sweater concealed, and that small rose tattoo on her neck still peeked out from under the collar despite the curtain of black hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders. It looked so silky smooth he wanted to step over there and—
He cleared his throat. “I should get going.”
She nodded, turning to swipe up a towel off the counter and hang it on the oven door. “I put your clothes in the wash. If you stop by in the morning, they’ll be good as new.”
He opened his mouth to thank her, but then remembered something. “That suit is dry clean.” She spun back around and put her hand on her hip in a gesture that he recognized from when she’d scolded the dog earlier. Another bad sign—that he remembered it.
“What, you think I don’t know how to clean anything but leather?”
Her defensiveness revealed his earlier comment had bothered her, and now he felt bad. “I didn’t say that.”
“Your suit will be fine,” she assured him.
“Okay…I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yep.”
He started for the door, only to find himself pausing before he reached it. “Are you going back to the fair now?”
“I have a few things to do here first.” She blinked at him with those brown eyes. “Why?”
Because he wanted to spend more time with her, and if he walked her back, he might try to get an invitation to share her blanket for the fireworks. Not a good idea.
“Just wondering,” he said. He made it as far as the porch on his second attempt to leave. As the fresh night air whispered across his bare arms and fireflies blinked in her front yard, he turned back around. “It’s almost dark, you should call your brother to walk with you.”
She stood inside the door. “It’s only a few blocks, it’s no big deal.”
Wes shifted forward to brace a hand against the doorframe. “So this town is one hundred percent crime free?” He caught the faint scent of perfume and backed up again.
“No, but I happen to have a few moves,” she joked with a small smile. “You want to see ‘em?”
He gave a short laugh, holding up a hand while his mind went in a completely different, sensual direction. “No, that’s all right. Call your brother.”
She rolled her eyes at his concern. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his brows.
Finally, she huffed, “Okay, fine, I’ll call him.”
“Thank you.” Before giving in to any of the crazy ideas floating around in his head, he stepped off the porch and didn’t look back.
Down the block near her family’s house, he caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw her brother get up off the porch to walk toward him. Wes tensed with the realization that the guy had been watching for him. At least this time he wasn’t at a disadvantage in boxers and bare feet. He stopped, but waited for Charlie to open the conversation.
“I’m only going to say this once. Stay away from my sister.”
He’d planned on doing exactly that, but Charlie’s challenging tone set Wes straight on the offensive. “It’s really none of your business.”
Charlie stepped closer. Wes clenched his fists, automatically sizing up his opponent to find Charlie equally prepared. Then the guy glanced at Wes’s arm. “Your tatt there says it is. I’ve seen it before at a bike rally in Detroit, and you guys are bad news.”
Wes’s anger dissipated, replaced by bitterness that even in small-town America he couldn’t escape his past. He nodded his agreement with Charlie’s statement. “They are, which is why I got the hell out about eight years ago and moved to Denver.”
Charlie didn’t look convinced.
Wes sighed with resignation and wished he’d kept the dog-puke shirt on earlier. “Look, man, I don’t want any
trouble. Tara only helped out ‘cuz of your dog. She’s nice and all, but not really my type.”
Not anymore.
Charlie eyed him for a long moment before he backed off. “Just so we’re clear.”
“We’re clear,” Wes assured him. Crystal.
Wes picked up his pace. A few more houses down, he noticed a couple guys in lawn chairs, surrounded by a dozen or more beer cans, with rap music blaring from inside the garage. Glancing back toward Tara’s house, he realized she’d walk right past before turning toward the fairgrounds. He paused. This was her neighborhood, she probably knew the guys…hell, for all he knew, she might even join them.
Still, his conscience wouldn’t let him leave without knowing she’d called her brother as she’d agreed. His instincts proved spot-on when about five minutes later when she walked past her parents’ house without pause. The overprotective Charlie didn’t come out to meet her, either.
Away from the air conditioning of her home, he saw she’d unzipped the red sweater, revealing a white tank underneath. Wes waited across the road, thinking he’d follow until she reached the fair, to make sure she remained safe while avoiding temptation and maintaining a clear head at a safe distance.
Across the road, one of the guys by the garage looked over his shoulder, then nudged the other to turn around.
“Hey, baby doll,” the blond one called out. “Bring that blanket on over here.”
He got to his feet while grinning at his buddy. Tara simply clutched her blanket closer and walked faster while keeping her gaze focused straight ahead. Wes scoffed under his breath. Nice moves, independent idiot.
Blondie started toward her, and Wes straightened from where he’d been leaning against the tree. Son of a bitch little punks. He didn’t care if she was tough enough to handle herself, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“What’s the rush, babe?”
Wes crossed the street and beat the guy to Tara’s side by about five feet. She jumped a foot when he put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her against his side. “Sorry I’m late.”
He planted a kiss on her surprised mouth, ignored the urge to align his body to her curves and dive in for more, and turned his full attention to the creep on the lawn. “We’re on our way to the fireworks, that’s the rush.”
Welcome To Redemption: Series Collection (Books 1-6) Page 12