Taste the Heat

by Rachel Harris

  “Oh, Jason,” Colby said, her soft voice full of compassion. Her chair creaked as she leaned forward, closer to him. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  Jason shook his head. “You don’t have to say anything.” He’d heard it all before anyway. And the genuine compassion she had shown while he told the story meant more than any empty words she could’ve offered.

  The topic of his wife’s death was heavier than he’d intended for tonight. Jason had thought they’d sit by the fire, stare up at the stars through the breaks in the trees, and pretend the air between them wasn’t practically crackling with suppressed sexual tension. But when Colby asked to hear what had happened to Ashleigh, he realized he wanted her to know. He needed her to understand why he couldn’t risk his heart again.

  Leaning back in his chair, the weight of the story off his shoulders, Jason took another sip of his beer. A welcome buzz swam in his blood. His plan for the evening had already traveled off the expected course. So as long as they were sharing, he had a question of his own.

  “You’ve heard my sad tale,” he said, watching her closely. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Colby choked on a mouthful of daiquiri and cleared her throat. “I don’t have one.”

  “Bullshit.” She gasped and Jason stood, planting his feet on the pine needles covering the ground. He turned his chair to face hers. Embers crackled and popped in the forgotten fire. “You don’t think I remember how you used to be constantly glued to your father’s side? I even remember the first batch of gumbo you made by yourself—I remember it because you were nine, and I was forced to pretend I enjoyed eating burned roux.”

  Colby laughed at that, and he smiled. Her lyrical laugh had that effect on him. The truth was that most of his memories of Colby as a child or a teen placed her right there in the family’s kitchen with Mr. Robicheaux. Holding court over a simmering pot of okra.

  “So, what?” he asked, resting his elbows on his knees. “Am I supposed to forget all that and believe you just woke up one day and decided to move halfway across the country on a whim?”

  Shadows danced across Colby’s face, but he saw the registered shock. “Cane and Sherry never questioned my choice.”

  He noted her defensiveness and nodded. “I know. When you left for New York, Cane told me it made sense. ‘It’s a great school and an awesome opportunity,’ he’d said. And when you stayed away, moved to Vegas, and opened an Italian restaurant, he said it was you ‘stretching your wings.’ But I never bought it. Something happened, and I’ve always wondered what.”

  Colby’s beautiful face clouded over and he saw the battle within. Reaching over, he opened the cooler and held up the gallon of Dreamsicle. The intention was clear; he’d shared a personal story, the hardest one he knew, and he did it fueled by alcohol. Now he was challenging her to do the same. To trust him enough with whatever it was that had chased her away all those years ago. And if needed, to rely on inebriation to do it.

  She looked him in the eyes and held out her cup. “Freshman year, I was going out with this guy named Steven.”

  Jason nodded in encouragement as he poured.

  “He wasn’t the first guy I ever dated or anything. But it was my first real relationship, you know? My first so-called love.”

  The sardonic twist Colby added to the word was his first sign that her story was big. That her experience had changed her. The girl he remembered had stars in her eyes and her heart on her sleeve. But with just one word, Jason realized that girl was gone. And suddenly, he had the overwhelming urge to protect the woman she’d become. To pick her up and hold her in his lap, and run his fingers through her hair as she told him whatever it was that had scarred her so deeply.

  The long-buried desire, to hold and protect a woman as if she were his own, hit him like a truck. His hand wobbled while pouring her drink.

  It had to be the alcohol clouding his brain. His heart knew the score.

  With less than nimble fingers, Jason held out the cup and brushed hers as she accepted it. Their eyes met. And Colby released a shaky breath.

  “It was the end of the semester,” she continued. “I’d gotten out of an exam early and I hadn’t seen Steven in a few days, so I decided to drive across campus to surprise him. I still had the extra key he’d given me the weekend before—when I’d stupidly offered to clean up for one of his frat parties.” She tossed her head back and laughed. But this time, the sound wasn’t musical; it was full of pain. Jason’s hands fisted in his lap as she tucked her hair behind her ears. “God, I was such a sucker.”

  Lifting the straw to her mouth, she took a long gulp. And as Jason watched her, he decided he would very much like to meet this Steven. Preferably in a dark alley somewhere.

  “So as I’m sure you’ve guessed by now, the real surprise was on me. There I stood in his doorway, my stupid heart full of lovey-dovey thoughts, and there he was, doing some sorority girl on the sofa. Apparently, they were so hot for each other they couldn’t wait the ten steps it would’ve taken to get to his freaking bedroom.” She blew out a breath and stared into her cup. “I took off and didn’t even think about going back to the dorm. I tore out of the parking lot and headed straight for home. To Daddy. Because he was my hero, and he would make it all better.”

  Colby’s voice broke on the last word, and the anger firing in Jason’s gut churned, sensing how her story ended. He’d heard the rumors about her dad growing up. That was one of the things about a small town; everyone was in everyone else’s business. Nothing was sacred. And very little stayed secret for long. He never knew how much the family heard because as an honorary Robicheaux, Jason hadn’t talked about it. He hadn’t wanted to believe that the rumors about his best friend’s dad, his secondary father, and their town’s former librarian were true.

  “Infidelity must’ve been the theme of the day in my horoscope,” she said, the word ending on a sob. Her chin trembled and she drew her legs up on the chair, encircling them with her arms. “At least the two of them made it to the restaurant’s back office.”

  Jason couldn’t take it anymore. He stood, set his beer down, and grabbed her hands. Colby’s glistening eyes stared at him in question as he scraped the side of his boot along the ground, clearing it of any rocks and debris. Then he tugged her up.

  One tear fell, and then another, as she stood on shaky legs. The sight was pure torture. He set her down on the ground and then sat as close as he could behind her, wrapping his arms around her small waist.

  Gently rocking her back and forth, he asked, “Did you ever tell anyone what you saw?” He gathered her thick hair and slid it to the other shoulder. Colby slowly shook her head. “So your mom never found out?”

  Colby laid her head back against his chest and gave a watery sigh. “What was I supposed to say? I didn’t want to know that kind of secret. And I damn sure didn’t want to share it! Mom would’ve been devastated.”

  Her shoulders shook and he tightened his grip around her. Their mom had been the most soft-spoken, kind-hearted woman he had ever known. She’d attended daily mass and volunteered at just about every charitable organization Magnolia Springs had to offer. Colby was right; it would’ve devastated the woman. He couldn’t imagine what it must’ve been like for Colby to know that kind of a secret. Or to have to keep it to herself.

  “And it’s not like I could tell anyone else,” Colby continued. “Cane was off at school. Sherry was still a freaking kid.” She huffed. “So was I. I should have never had to be in that position.”

  “No you shouldn’t.” She made a strangled sound and he smoothed a hand down her hair. “And that’s why you left.”

  Sniffing, she bobbed her head, confirming what he already knew.

  “And the aversion to Cajun food?”

  Colby’s trembling shoulders stilled, and she twisted in his arms. Sliding her long bare legs around his hips, her tear-filled gray eyes met his. “How did you know about that?”

  Jason temporarily lost the power of speech
, distracted by the sight and feel of her legs around him. His heart pounded as all his blood headed south. His pajama bottoms grew uncomfortably tight. Adjusting his hold, Jason slid his hands around her waist and the tips of his fingers slipped beneath the hem of Colby’s thin cotton top.

  She raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer. The blaze of the fire at his back illuminated the splotches on her beautiful, fair face. Jason swallowed, trying to ignore the feel of petal soft skin beneath his hands. This was not the time for him to lose his self-control. Colby didn’t need lust right now; she needed comfort.

  “At Taste the Heat you hardly ate anything,” he told her, distracted by the way she worried her lip between her teeth. Colby’s nose wrinkled as she drew a trembling breath, and he realized he’d just admitted how closely he had watched her that day. He shrugged and slid a lock of hair behind her ear. “You would only try enough to tell if the dish truly sucked or not. I’ve also heard grumblings about new items being added to the restaurant’s menu. Italian ones,” he emphasized, pretending to shudder. Despite her struggle to rein in her tears, Colby gave him a small, brave smile. A pang rippled through Jason’s chest. “Plus the fact there isn’t a Robicheaux’s Two in Vegas, I took an educated guess.”

  She licked her lips and then rubbed them together, nodding slowly. She lowered her eyes to his chest, and her slim shoulders rose and fell with increasingly ragged breaths. Jason watched, paralyzed, as the dam of tears she’d valiantly tried to hold back, broke. “It just hurts too much.”

  Jason pulled her flush against him, crushing her to his chest. He cupped her head as Colby buried her face between his neck and shoulder, sobs coming freely now. She sniffled and used his shirt as a tissue, and he held her tighter, massaging her head as she cried. Letting her know he was there.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered over and over as her breaths grew progressively jagged. He wished he could take the pain away. That he could hold her close enough that nothing could ever touch her. Tangling his fingers in her hair, he rested his forehead against hers.

  In the still moments that followed, two things became clear. The first was that Jason would do anything to keep Colby from feeling this level of hurt again. A fierce need to protect was surging in his veins. And second, Jason realized the girl he once knew no longer existed. Adult Colby didn’t live with her heart on her sleeve. From what she’d shared tonight, she guarded her heart almost as fiercely as he did. The two of them had a history and an unmistakable attraction. Maybe Jason didn’t have to try so hard to fight it.

  Colby’s shoulders shuddered with an attempt at a calming breath. Jason squeezed her tighter, stifling a groan as the tips of her breasts pressed firmly against his chest. He slid his hands to her waist, and Colby lifted her head with a shy smile.

  “Feel better?”

  She nodded and licked her lips. “Thank you. I don’t normally do the ugly cry. It felt good.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh and covered her face. “Although I’m sure I look like a hot mess right now.”

  Sweeping her hands aside, he glided his thumbs across her cheeks. Wiping away the lines of smeared makeup, he looked into her clearing gray eyes and said, “You’re gorgeous.”

  A flash of uncertainty crossed Colby’s face, and he bent his head to prove it.

  The first brush of his lips was light. He didn’t want to take advantage of her emotions. He just wanted to assure her that regardless of her tears, she was still one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. But when a sigh escaped her parted lips, and she fisted her fingers in his hair, Jason abandoned timid and gentle. He gave in to the desire that had been snapping and building between them since the day of the competition, and proceeded to kiss her senseless.

  Reaching down, he palmed the smooth skin of her calf. It felt like silk in his hands. He skimmed his fingers down the soft length to her ankle, hooking it around his hip. Colby made a satisfied noise in her throat. She wiggled closer and, happy to oblige, he tugged her fully against him and deepened the kiss. He swallowed her moan.

  Leaves rustled in the wind. Unseen wings fluttered and buzzed. And their heavy breaths filled the air, turning Jason on even more. Colby’s mouth tasted of citrus. Sweet, like the daiquiri she had drank, and like her. He teased the corners of her mouth. Licked the satiny skin of her upper lip. And gently bit down on her pouty lower one. He knew he needed to break the kiss soon—his daughter was sleeping in the tent only a few yards away—but this woman was like a drug. And he was quickly becoming an addict. Jason shifted to press his lips to the sensitive skin just under her ear.

  Breathless and panting, Colby tilted her head as he trailed his mouth along the column of her neck. “I’ve always wondered,” she admitted with a shiver, “what it would be like to kiss you.”

  He arched an eyebrow in surprise and grinned against her skin. “If memory serves me right, this is our second kiss.”

  A shocked gasp of air escaped her throat. “You remember Kiss and Catch?”

  He looked at her and nodded, remembering every stolen moment of that childhood kiss.

  She gazed back with dazed eyes, and chewing the corner of a slightly swollen lip, admitted, “That was my first kiss.” Her tone was almost bashful, the flush of her skin darkening to rose before a hint of the vixen came back and she said, “Okay, so I’ve been curious how the adult Jason would compare.”

  He chuckled as he dipped his tongue into the hollow where her pulse fluttered. “And the verdict?”

  “Meh.”

  At her laugh, which he noted sounded like music again, Jason nipped the delicate skin and then licked it. Inclining his head, he confessed, “You were my first kiss, too.”

  Colby went motionless in his arms and he leaned back, not surprised to see disbelief in her eyes. He shrugged. “I hadn’t come out of my shell yet.”

  She grinned in delight.

  Jason shifted her so she was out of the shadow and firelight warmed her face, then he said, “I have an idea.”

  “Hmm, sounds dangerous,” she teased. “Any chance it involves burrs in delicate places and unexplainable mosquito bites?”

  “No,” he said with a laugh. “But I like where your mind is.” Colby sighed with mock disappointment, and he added, “And you’re not too far off.”

  That got her attention. Placing her hands on his thighs, she propped herself up and tilted her head, waiting for him to continue.

  “Tonight I realized that we’re not that different,” Jason began. “We’ve both been burned by love, and neither of us have any interest in going back in for a round two. But we’re human. We have needs. And crazy chemistry.” Colby’s grin stretched into a wicked smile. “What would you say to an arrangement?” he asked. “One where it’s understood that feelings are off the table. Just fun, companionship, and a whole lot more of this.” He grasped her hips and tugged her closer so there was no mistaking what he meant.

  She shook her head with a smile but locked her ankles around his back. “You had me at crazy chemistry,” she teased. Then her smile faltered a shade and she reminded him, “I’m leaving at the end of the summer.”

  “I know.” He lifted his shoulder in a show of indifference. “It’ll be a summer fling.”

  Colby’s eyes lit up at the word fling. “That, sir, may just be the best idea I’ve ever heard.” Smashing her mouth against his, she sealed their agreement with a kiss.

  Victory tasted like citrus. He did it. He bought himself an entire summer with Colby, and maybe, just maybe, it would convince her to stay. He could be very persuasive when he needed to be.

  And if his best friend ever found out what he just did, Jason would have his ass kicked.

  Chapter Eight

  Jason slid into his usual booth at Grits & Stuff, his gut a knot of twisted energy. The clink and clatter of cutlery all around him didn’t help. Cane had called this afternoon, asking to meet. After the look in his best friend’s eyes when Jason had suggested that very thing earlier in the week, he was justif
iably cautious, and with the summer agreement he’d struck with Colby still fresh in his ears, more than a little concerned. Thankfully, he and Colby had agreed to delay their official kickoff for a time when his preteen daughter wasn’t within listening distance, or his concern with meeting her brother tonight would be in full-out panic mode.

  At the table along the far wall sat the teacher Jason had met doing a safety presentation at the elementary school last week. Across the scuffed tile floor, one of his students from the gym lifted his hand in greeting. He knew or recognized most of the patrons in the cramped café, and the majority of the remaining tables were filled—not that surprising, even despite the after dinner hour, when it was a Sunday night and the only other restaurant in town closed at eight.

  The manager of that establishment plopped a few quarters into the retro-style jukebox in the corner of the room and then slipped into the bench seat across from him, nodding to the server who dropped off two waters and menus. Admittedly, the all-night café wasn’t the best place to have a discussion. It was loud, chaotic, and smelled faintly of a dirty dishcloth. But it would have to do. Jason was about to go on a twenty-four-hour shift and he couldn’t wait that long to find out what was on Cane’s mind. Or to see if the town’s rumor mill had worked against him.

  “How’s my favorite godchild doing?” Cane asked, picking up one of the peeling menus.

  Why he bothered reading it was anybody’s guess because Cane always ordered the same thing—a tall stack of pancakes, a glass of sweet tea, and Hank Williams on the jukebox. The man liked his structure, for everything to stay the same. He’d been that way even in the days at Little Lambs Preschool where they first met. It was one of the reasons Jason was sweating Cane’s finding out about his summer relationship with Colby so much, and it was just one of many quirks that went against his friend’s rebellious appearance.

  Where Jason was lean, he was broad and bulky. Cane’s uniform was an array of black T-shirts, dark wash jeans, and a battered black leather jacket. With his strong jawline, hair that defied grooming, and collection of tattoos, an outsider wouldn’t expect that the man was turned on by numbers. Or that he balanced budgets for kicks. The fact that Cane would one day manage Robicheaux’s had never been a question when they were growing up. And, after graduating with a double major in business and accounting, that’s exactly what he began doing.