Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8

by Meg Benjamin

  He nodded again, turning toward the stage. He should probably spend the rest of the evening doing his regular job.

  Andy smiled up at him, doing that face glow thing again, and he did a quick reassessment. Maybe they could leave a little early, assuming the cowboys on the stage didn’t feel like multiple encores. And even if they did, he had a feeling he’d be moving them along fairly soon.

  An hour later, he was walking down Main beside her, enjoying what might well be the last cool breeze of early summer. He could have driven, but he only lived three blocks away. Still, he was a little nervous about asking her back to his place. He didn’t take women there as a rule. But he’d been breaking the rules with Andy almost since he’d met her.

  She glanced up at him. “Will my car be all right back at the Faro?”

  He nodded. “Should be. The cops keep an eye on the lot. We haven’t had any trouble.”

  “Will it seem weird if it sits there overnight?” He couldn’t tell if she was blushing or not. Her voice sounded a little strained.

  Might as well get it out in the open. It wasn’t like they didn’t both know what was happening. “No. But I can go over tomorrow morning and get it for you if you want. Chances are nobody will notice.” If they were lucky.

  She blew out a breath. “Maybe we can talk about that when the time comes.”

  They walked on for a while in silence. He wished he could see her expression, but maybe it was better that he couldn’t.

  “Does it still bother you that people stare?” he asked as they turned down the last street before his house.

  She shook her head. “I’m still not used to it, and I hope it stops soon. But the thing is, it’s their problem, not mine.”

  “When did you decide this?”

  “Tonight actually.” She grimaced. “That’s how I’d like to feel anyway. I’m still kind of working on it, though. It’s what I want to believe.”

  “Good attitude to have.” He opened the gate in front of his house, thankful that he’d remembered to leave the porch light on for once.

  Andy followed him up the walk, detouring to look at the brass sundial he had at the side of the steps. “This is interesting.”

  He shrugged. “Found it at an auction in Mason. Seemed to fit the space.”

  She turned back to look at the building. “This is your house?”

  He nodded. “It’s a duplex. Right now the guy who lives in the other side is out of town.” And might not be coming back, which meant he’d have the hassle of finding a new renter. But at least it made for privacy.

  “I like it.” She smiled at him. “Nice yard too.”

  “Come on in.” He unlocked the door, stepping inside so that he could turn on a lamp. Thank god his cleaning lady had been in the day before. He gathered up the newspaper from the coffee table, dropping it into the recycling bin.

  Andy stood just inside the door, staring around the room. “This is really…great.”

  He paused, doing a quick survey. Same leather couch he’d had for five years or so. Television set against the far wall. Antique rocker from his parents’ house and a couple of bookcases. “Great?” He wondered if she was being ironic, but that didn’t seem like Andy.

  “It’s so comfortable.” She sank down on his couch. “Sometimes I have to pick up some of the guys who go out and take the water and soil samples for us. Most of them are bachelors in their twenties. Their houses always look like crap.”

  “I’m not in my twenties,” he said dryly. “I’ve sort of moved beyond the crap stage.”

  “I think some men never do.”

  He sat down beside her, close enough to feel the slight warmth of her skin. She gave him a slow smile, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and his body began to harden. The lady definitely had an effect.

  He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some chips. And Lord knows I’ve got barbecue.”

  “You’ve been working on it?”

  He nodded. “Off and on. Clem wasn’t the only one who thought the rub was a little too spicy.” His mom had told him he’d never get it by Anglo judges, which might be a bit of an overstatement, but she might also have a point.

  “I liked it,” Andy said carefully. “But I understand what she was saying.”

  “Did you ever do any judging yourself?”

  She shook her head. “I just listened to everybody bitch about it. That way I got a good idea of what judges don’t like because I saw the people who didn’t do well, or as well as they thought they should.”

  “So you can pass on some ideas?”

  “Sure. Of course, that was a few years ago, and judging does change.”

  “Not that much, I imagine.” He blew out a breath. “So no on the barbecue?”

  She smiled. “I’m fine. Clem’s onion rings took care of it.”

  He nodded, wondering why he felt nervous all of a sudden. They already knew they were good together. He shouldn’t feel any tension about it now.

  But he did. The first couple of times, he’d been worried about not hurting her. More worried about that than about making her feel good. This time he wanted that too.

  She didn’t have any complaints last time. Not so far as he could tell anyway. Still, it made a difference.

  Andy was watching him, the corners of her mouth edging up in a dry smile, as if she knew what he was thinking. Hell, for all he knew, she could read minds as well as judge barbecue.

  He turned, cupping her face in his palms, bringing his lips to hers. She tasted warm and rich, like toffee, and he let his hands slide into her hair, combing his fingers through the smooth waves at the side.

  Her hands slipped to his chest, and his body hardened another degree. He raised his head, trying to get his breathing under control again. “Let’s move.”

  “Not yet.”

  She gave him that smile again. He had to fight down the urge to gather her up in his arms and carry her down the hall. Maybe he could still do it a few minutes from now, although walking might be harder.

  He pulled her close again, letting himself touch her, run his hands along her arms, her breasts, her hips.

  She gave him a gentle shove, so that he slid down into a corner of the couch, then moved on top of him.

  She took hold of the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to touch his bare chest.

  He took a deep breath to fill his suddenly empty lungs, then pulled at the edge of her light blue top, easing it over her shoulders and off. She was wearing another of those bras, peach-colored this time, with lots of lace. He smiled.

  “What?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “I like your choice of lingerie.”

  It was hard to say for sure in the dim lamp light, but he was fairly certain she was blushing.

  He dropped the shirt to the floor, then turned, unfastening the bra and pushing it from her shoulders. She leaned back slightly, letting him see.

  He ran his hands along the side of her breasts, rubbing his thumbs lightly over the nipples. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

  She frowned slightly, but she didn’t argue. Just as well—he wasn’t going to change his mind. She was beautiful and she was his.

  At least for now.

  He reached for the zipper at the back of her slacks, drawing it down, then pushing them over her hips with her peach-colored panties. She arched her back for him, then pushed the rest of her clothes to the floor. Then she turned, straddling his lap, so that her knees rested on either side of his hips.

  His chest felt tight again, caught between those two maybe-conflicting needs don’t hurt her, make her happy.

  “It’s all right. Don’t worry.” She unbuttoned his jeans, sliding down the zipper.

  His erection sprung free, rising over his belly.

  Andy stared down at him for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. “You’re pretty impressive yourself, you know,” she said softly.

  He managed a tight grin. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  S
he slid forward slightly, resting her hands on his chest so that his cock was caught between them. “Don’t you turn away my compliment. I said you were impressive and I meant it—in a good way.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.” He reached up to cup her breasts. “Thank you.” He leaned up to take the nipple in his mouth, sucking as he pressed it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, his fingers rubbing against the underside of her breast.

  She did another of those purrs deep in her throat, a quick approval. He dropped his hands to her rounded behind, digging in his fingers as he lifted her slightly. His breath felt tight in his chest as he let her slide down.

  “Wait a minute.” He fumbled in his pocket to pull out a condom. He’d bought them yesterday, staring down the clerk at the drugstore and knowing the news would probably reach at least a couple of his cousins by the end of the day.

  “Let me.” Andy took it from his fingers, pulling open the packet and then rolling the condom slowly down his shaft.

  He took another deep breath, calling up all those reserves of patience he hadn’t had to use for a couple of years at least. Good thing they weren’t going to be walking down that hall any time soon.

  Andy took hold of his cock, her expression intent, guiding it slowly into her body as she lowered herself over him. He gasped, trying to get some air into his once-again empty lungs.

  She rested her hands on his shoulders then, gazing down at him as she moved, her body rising and falling above him. He brought his hands to her hips, moving her farther, sliding into her, his head swimming with wanting her.

  Her eyes began to drift closed and he shook his head. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Keep watching. I need to see you.”

  He plunged farther, feeling the heat deep inside her body, the clutch of her muscles around him. His hands flexed against her skin. “Andy,” he gasped.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Oh yes.” Her body convulsed above his, her muscles clenching tighter, the movement plunging him over the edge with her.

  “Ah god,” he ground out. “Sweet Lord.”

  His hips jerked upward as she rode him to the end, holding him tight, then collapsing slack against his chest. He stroked the bumps of her spine, lightly, the smooth slide of her skin. His brain was still wrapped in a haze of pleasure. “Andy,” he murmured again. “You’re very, very good.”

  He thought she murmured something like “likewise,” but he wasn’t sure. Her head was tucked against his chest, her hand resting on his collarbone.

  He didn’t think he’d ever felt so relaxed before in his life. He could definitely get used to this.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Darcy stood at the picnic table outside Harris’s trailer where she’d done most of her prep work for this Sunday’s barbecue tasting. The kitchen in the trailer was way too small for any efficient cooking, and Harris’s kitchen building was completely given over to meat. Chico was keeping his pork roasts in Harris’s freezer, along with jars of his rub, carefully labeled so that Harris wouldn’t use them mistakenly for his brisket.

  Not that that was likely to happen, but they were both becoming a little obsessive about the whole barbecue competition thing. Over the past two weeks they’d gone through at least four or five different variations of their respective rubs, with kibitzing from Joe, Clem, various home-grown barbecue experts and Darcy herself.

  A couple of kids ran by, pursued by Porky, who was yipping in ecstasy. The pup enjoyed the damn Sunday barbecues more than the people did.

  The kids belonged to one of their new sponsors, an accountant named Toleffson who did Andy’s taxes. Andy had managed to rope him in for the first Sunday barbecue, and he’d brought along his brother, the County Attorney, this week. They were also both about as tall as Chico and almost as handsome as Harris.

  Not that Darcy was much interested in handsome men these days. She had enough on her plate as it was.

  Initially, she’d hated giving up her Sunday afternoons, one of the few days she didn’t have to worry about cooking. But the feedback they got from their new supporters last week had turned out to be invaluable. Clem had even given her some potato salad variations that wouldn’t send Harris into a ten-minute dissertation on the evils of Dijon mustard.

  Darcy wasn’t sure how they’d ended up at Harris’s place. Maybe it was because the temperatures in the hills were slightly cooler than they were in town. Maybe it was because fewer people dropped by unexpectedly. Or maybe it just happened and Harris didn’t care. That sounded most likely to her.

  The guests had brought their own lawn chairs and a couple of folding tables. Somehow beer had magically appeared as well. And all in all, Darcy was a happy woman. There were worse things than sitting in the shade of the pecan and cypress trees and listening to a mockingbird do its thing as people passed around platters of down-home cooking and Harris gave her one of his seductive grins. Not that she was going to be seduced into sticking around the place, no matter how comfortable it was.

  She had a future and it wasn’t here. Although her tone wasn’t quite as firm when she said that now as it had been a few weeks ago. And she still hadn’t gotten around to doing that quick check for new job openings.

  Chef de cuisine, Darcy. That’s where it’s at. Right.

  She stayed over at the trailer most nights, unless one or the other of them had a complicated morning coming up. But she was just going keep sleeping over until the cook-off was done. After all, she was part of the team. She had responsibilities. Once the competition finished she could go back to sleeping alone in her apartment in town. No problem.

  Keep working on that, Darcy. Maybe you’ll sound a little more believable soon.

  She took a quick survey of today’s guests. Along with the Toleffsons, Joe and Clem, the others were mostly familiar—MG, Tom Ames and his wife, Clem’s partner Lucinda, who cooked a mean pan of cornbread, and a few miscellaneous cooks from the Rose. Andy was there too, of course, cooking beans and jalapeno poppers that made Darcy’s eyes water.

  And watching Chico, like she was doing now. She did that a lot.

  Darcy wondered if Andy ever worried about what would happen when the cook-off ended. Given the way Chico looked at her, she probably didn’t need to.

  Darcy wondered about it, though. More than she should.

  She gazed up the hill toward the lean-to. Harris and Chico were both at the smokers, trying another set of variations on beef and pork, along with some chicken and sausage for variety. The sound of a motor made her turn toward the river in time to see an unfamiliar SUV jouncing down the hill toward the bridge just as she’d put the finishing touches on her latest slaw incarnation. It wasn’t anybody she recognized, but then most of the people she recognized were already here, drinking beer and eating Andy’s jalapeno poppers as if they were candy.

  “Hey, Harris,” she called, “you’ve got company.”

  He peered around the side of the shelter, frowning, then stepped out where he could see better.

  Darcy turned back to watch a man and a woman climb out of the front seat. The man looked a lot like the Toleffson brothers—very tall, dark and broad-shouldered. Only he had a beard and slightly longer hair than they did. He leaned into the backseat and emerged with a child who looked to be around five. It took her a moment to realize he was actually a lot younger. Apparently, a Paul Bunyan father ended up with a Paul Bunyan baby.

  The woman was almost more remarkable than the man. Darcy put her height at somewhere around six feet. Her hair was flaming orange and she wore it pulled up in a topknot that looked like it might come streaming down at any moment. Her shirt was tied underneath some truly remarkable breasts and her cut-off jean shorts revealed legs that seemed to go on forever. She made Darcy feel inadequate just by occupying the same general air space.

  She was also oddly familiar, but it took Darcy a minute to remember her. Barbarella. From the barbecue where Darcy had first formed the idea of apprenticing with Harris.

  Harris was down
the hillside in a few strides, embracing Barbarella enthusiastically. Paul Bunyan regarded them with a raised eyebrow, but no sign of jealousy that Darcy could see.

  “Harris.” Barbarella threw her head back laughing. “Look at you. Look at this place.”

  Harris? Darcy blinked. Barbarella had just entered a new and much more interesting category. So far Darcy was the only one who didn’t call Harris the King.

  “Darcy.” Harris motioned her to his side. “This is my cousin, Docia Kent. Darcy’s the sous chef at the Rose and she’s on the barbecue team.”

  And I’m your Significant Other. At least at the moment. But maybe that was obvious by the way he pulled her close.

  Docia shook her hand, still smiling. “Glad to meet you. And it’s Docia Kent Toleffson. That’s my hubs.” She nodded toward Paul Bunyan. “Cal Toleffson. Lars and Pete have been talking about these Sunday barbecues for days. We thought we’d come out and see. Plus prove to them that the Barbecue King is actually my cousin Harris. Of course, cousin Deirdre has already backed me up on that.”

  “Deirdre?” Darcy felt a little dizzy. She turned to Harris. “Deirdre’s your cousin?”

  He shook his head, grinning. “No, Deirdre is Docia’s cousin. And I’m Docia’s cousin. But Deirdre and I are not cousins.”

  Docia chuckled. “Don’t make it any more confusing than it already is. Deirdre is my cousin on my mama’s side. Harris’s mama is my daddy’s sister.”

  “Okay,” Darcy said faintly.

  “Rolf wants to go for a run.” Cal, aka Paul Bunyan, held the giggling toddler in front of him. “Anything hazardous beyond the obvious?”

  Harris shrugged. “There are some hot smokers on the slab over there where Chico’s working, but not much besides that. And the snakes, cactus and river, of course.”

  Cal nodded, giving him a dry smile. “Of course. This being Texas.” He set the child on his feet, then watched him teeter forward, straight for the smokers and Chico. “Right. I guess that was inevitable.” He grabbed his son’s hand, turning him in another direction and then followed him toward some cedar.