How to Rope a Real Man

by Melissa Cutler

  The Marine nodded toward the building. “How’s the reception going? Sounds like a typical Catcher Creek party.” It was said sarcastically, like he’d long outgrown his countrified roots.

  A conversation with a jaded soldier wasn’t exactly what Matt had expected when he’d stormed outside, but it only took a second for him to decide to roll with it. He ignored the sarcasm and instead offered a genuine answer, which was more his style. “Reception’s going great. Everyone’s having a lot of fun.”

  “Oh, yeah, I can tell. That’s how come you’re out here smashing glass. What, were you in love with the bride or something? ’Cause if that’s the case, you’ll need to rein it in before Kellan Reed kicks your ass to Mexico.”

  Hearing Kellan’s name had Matt doing another about-face. “I’m sorry. I should’ve introduced myself. Matt Roenick. I don’t remember you from the wedding.”

  The Marine took his offered hand in a firm shake. “That’s because I dodged out at the last minute. Carson Parrish, but my friends call me Lynch.”

  Parrish rang a bell, but Matt couldn’t remember where he’d heard it. Then again, he only knew perhaps a quarter of the wedding guests by face and even fewer by name. “How do you know Kellan?”

  Lynch shrugged. “From way back. My family owns the only feed and grain store in Catcher Creek, so I got an invitation by default even though I haven’t been in this town for going on six years.” There was venom in his tone, like he and his demons hadn’t done the water-under-the-bridge thing yet. “Never RSVP’d, and I’m sure no one expected me to actually show up, but I’m assuming my whole family is inside that building right now doing the YMCA or whatever stupid dance the DJ’s calling.”

  “You’re not sure if your family’s here or not?” It was a prying question, but Matt couldn’t get a read on the guy’s motives for lurking outside the building.

  His expression cracked into a hard smile. “I wanted to surprise people, but I think I’ll save it for another day. It’s weird, coming home after being gone so long, like I don’t belong. I’m not the same person I was when I left, so I didn’t expect all the old shit to come rushing back at me like it has.” He squinted into the darkness. “I need more time to get my bearings before I do what I came here to.”

  Matt nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.” That was no lie. He knew all about feeling like an outcast around the people and places you grew up—different, defective. And he knew a hell of a lot about how all your old shit could slap you upside the head when you least expected it, hence tonight’s broken champagne flute.

  The difference between him and this Lynch guy was that while Matt worked really hard to stay positive, Lynch had a world-weary edge to him. Like he’d seen and done too much in his life to appreciate the beauty of the world anymore. Like the best parts of himself had been defeated.

  “So I ’fessed up. Your turn. What’s with the smashed glass?”

  “I . . .” Matt was suddenly acutely embarrassed by his tantrum. “I lost perspective for a minute there about what was important.”

  “Man, the only thing that’s important in this life is looking out for number one. If you want something for yourself, make it happen. If something or someone’s pissing you off, bulldoze over them. No regrets. Because when it comes right down to it, nobody’s got your back. It’s all about you and what you can do for yourself.”

  Man, this guy was a cynic. Matt was starting to see why his friends called him Lynch, and had to wonder what his enemies called him. He was everything Matt didn’t want to become, but feared himself inching closer to each day. Matt wanted to believe in people, and in the inherent goodness of the world. Like Lynch, he wanted to bulldoze over what was holding him back, but rather than act like the world was out to get him, as Lynch seemed to, Matt understood that his greatest enemy was himself.

  When had he started letting grief and fear dictate his choices? He knew the answer. His decision to stop dating and keep Jenna at arm’s length had everything to do with the three kids whose pictures he still carried in his wallet. Was he strong enough to risk the possible pain of losing another kid he’d dreamed of being a father to if things didn’t work out between him and Jenna?

  Five minutes ago, he would have answered no. But now, all he could think about was how to keep himself from turning into this Lynch guy. His gut was telling him that Jenna was his salvation. She’d blazed a trail through his toughest resistance, straight to his heart with her smile and the way she’d felt in his arms when they’d danced, the way they’d sung along to the radio together and worked as a team to save Amy’s wedding.

  She was smart and funny and resourceful and gorgeous. He wanted her so damn bad. Worse than he’d wanted any woman before—and not in a way that was polite or friendly or half-assed, like he’d been telling himself he was at peace with. He wanted all of her: her secrets, her body, her love.

  He wanted to go all in with Jenna and Tommy, even if it meant he might get hurt.

  Was she inside wondering what’d happened to him? He’d let her down by skipping the wedding party dance, and he’d let down Kellan and Amy too. It was time to focus on the blessings that were right in front of him, instead of the parts of his life that hadn’t gone according to plan. It was time to bulldoze over what was keeping him down and crush his demons once and for all.

  No more hemming and hawing, no more stewing in bitterness, no more being Wade-in-Slowly Guy. “Talk to you later, man. I’m going to get back in there.”

  “Yeah? You going to get another champagne glass to smash?”

  Matt waved off the joke. “Nah, I’m done with that. There’s a woman in there I need to find.”

  Chapter Eight

  Tommy didn’t precisely stay by Jenna’s side like a perfect angel during the reception, but that was a good thing because his little-boy energy kept him bouncing around the room at a fast enough pace that Patricia Parrish didn’t have a prayer of cornering him again since the incident in the lobby.

  Still, eight o’clock was slow in coming. It wasn’t until Jenna had Tommy by the hand in the parking lot, surrounded by balmy summer air, that she felt the rock budge from on top of her chest.

  On Tommy’s other side walked Charlene Delgado, who’d been sitting for the Sorentinos since Jenna was a baby. A grandmother now, she was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise type and didn’t mind taking Tommy home with her so Jenna could stick around to the end of the reception. The nominal sitting fee she charged was worth every penny.

  As they crossed the parking lot to Charlene’s car, Jenna’s relief about Tommy’s departure was only tempered by concern about Matt. Something had shifted in his mood after Jake’s speech. Okay, yes, during the speech she’d been a bit handsy with Matt’s knee, but she chalked that up to nerves. He couldn’t take that personally. It wasn’t like she’d leaned over and laid a big kiss on him like she’d wanted to after they’d clinked glasses.

  Discomfort about her over-friendliness didn’t explain the tense exchange between Matt and his father before he’d stalked from the ballroom during the first dance. What could’ve possibly happened at the reception to put them at odds with each other? Nothing added up.

  Now that Tommy was taken care of and there was nothing left to do at the reception but dance and visit, Jenna could afford the time to look for Matt. He might not want any kind of relationship with her, but she couldn’t flip the switch on caring about him that quickly. She knew she wouldn’t have peace of mind until she made sure he was okay.

  Once she’d strapped Tommy into the booster seat in the back of Charlene’s car, she kissed him good night. “Be a good boy for Miss Charlene, okay?”

  He rubbed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “Mommy, I’m always a good boy for Miss Charlene because she lets me eat licorice before bed and I don’t even have to brush my teeth!”

  Oh, God.

  Charlene twisted in the driver seat, grinning like she was daring Jenna to challenge her sitting techniques. Jenna snapped her gaping
mouth shut and smiled back, having learned over the years that Charlene chafed at childcare advice of any kind.

  The kicker was, Jenna wasn’t in a position to sweat the small stuff because there weren’t a whole lot of other people in town she’d trust with her baby overnight. Making a mental note to brush his teeth the minute he was back home in the morning, she gave Tommy one last kiss, thanked Charlene for the umpteenth time, and shut the door.

  She waved until the car disappeared from view, then turned her face up to the stars, closed her eyes, and inhaled. She’d done it. She and Tommy had made it through the afternoon and evening without any conflict. The wedding and reception had gone off without a hitch, and she had two more hours of dancing before the DJ packed up. Plenty of time to figure out what was wrong with Matt and scope out Kellan’s single friends, as per Carrie’s suggestion.

  She opened her eyes again and jolted at the sight of Matt jogging across the parking lot toward the building’s entrance, a determined look on his face.

  She trotted after him as fast as her strapless dress would allow. “Matt!”

  But he’d opened the door and the blare of music drowned out her voice. She hooked a thumb behind the material across her bustline to secure the dress and picked up her pace, slipping through the door closing behind him.

  “Matt,” she called again, tapping his shoulder.

  He whirled to face her, his hands coming to her waist. Gone from his eyes was the torment that had haunted his features since that afternoon, replaced by a smoldering intensity that left her fighting for air.

  “What were you doing outside?” he asked.

  It took a shake of her head to clear it enough to remember what she’d been doing before looking into his dark eyes. “Saying good night to Tommy and his sitter. Listen, are you all right? I saw you leave before. You looked—”

  His mouth descended over hers, hot and demanding. She drew herself up, shocked stiff, her fingers splayed over his chest. His hand found her jaw, giving him the control to tip her head to the angle he wanted. His lips were firm, his tongue insistent. He smelled fantastic, as she’d noticed when they’d walked down the aisle together—clean like shaving cream, the really good stuff that cost a pretty penny and made her want to smear her nose and lips across his cheek and inhale.

  Or kiss him senseless.

  Giving herself over to what she’d longed to do month after month, she wrapped her arms around him and took his tongue inside her. A masculine rumble of satisfaction vibrated from his throat, curling her toes in her boots.

  This wasn’t the Matt she knew best. The gentleman with the fears and private pain who could compose speeches about love after pulling an all-nighter to create flower arrangements to help save a wedding. Instead, this was the man she’d danced the waltz with, the one who knew exactly what he wanted from her body and how to get it.

  A blaze of heat rocketed through her. What a crock that she’d thought the passion between them would be easy and comfortable, leisurely even. She wanted to devour him. She wanted to rip his suit off, push him to the ground, and fuck his brains out until they’d made up for all the time they’d lost being apart and all the years she’d wasted with lesser men.

  Something had happened during the reception that she didn’t understand. Whatever it was, it’d given him permission to let go of what was holding him back. She had every intention of pressing him for details about what that something had been, but not right now while she was locked against his hard, lean body, with his hands and mouth commanding her attention.

  She didn’t care that they were in the lobby, surrounded by people she knew. Let them look and gossip to each other. She’d wear the badge of the wicked, loose-morals Sorentino sister the rest of her life if it meant Matt would keep on working magic with his lips and tongue, as if he were starved for the taste of her.

  Finally they came up for air. Their lips brushed as they panted into each other’s mouths and looked into each other’s eyes.

  “I was wrong before,” he said between breaths.

  “About what?” She’d already figured what he meant, but wanted to hear him say it.

  “That you and I shouldn’t be together. That’s bullshit. I want you.” One of his hands left her waist to splay over her backside. “All of you.”

  Time would tell if he truly wanted all of her—including her heart—but for tonight the confession was enough. She slipped a finger behind the knot of his tie and tugged. “I’m yours for the taking.”

  His body tensed, radiating torrid, male need. He drew her lower lip into his mouth and ran his tongue across it. “Right now.”

  The terse demand sent a shot of arousal through her. Right now sounded just exactly perfect.

  She looked around the lobby. Mr. and Mrs. Parrish were watching them with wrinkled noses, judging. Others darted glances, smiling knowingly, and no doubt filing away the juicy news of Matt and Jenna’s heated embrace for later.

  Matt seized hold of her chin and forced her attention back to him, his eyes relentless in their hunger. “Right now, Jenna.”

  She licked over her lower lip, tracing the path his tongue had taken. Sweet sundae, she loved the way he tasted. “Guess we’d better find ourselves an empty room.”

  The tension on his features cracked into a wicked grin. He took her hand and started down the dark, empty hallway leading to the groom’s suite.

  She watched the play of his body as he moved and came to a maddening conclusion: he had far too many clothes on. His torso was buttoned into a concealing shirt, vest, tie, and jacket, with his lower body hidden behind pants and a belt. The second they were alone, Jenna needed to get her hands on his skin.

  She’d only ever touched his face and arms. She wanted to feel the hard, hot expanse of skin on his chest and back. She wanted to lick her way down his stomach and up his legs. She wiggled free of his hand, reached under his jacket, and pulled his dress shirt from his pants, then his undershirt.

  He quickened the pace, lengthening his stride so that she had to shuffle double-time to keep up. When he reached for the doorknob to the groom’s suite, her fingers finally hit the skin of his stomach and skittered over the ridges of his abdominal muscles. Sucking in a sharp breath, he spun and pushed her up against the hallway wall.

  His mouth found hers, consuming her, demanding surrender.

  Her hands groped between them, tugging material out of the way and unfastening buttons until she hit skin again. Her fingers and palms rippled over the unyielding flesh of his stomach, then higher, slipping around the curved base of his pectoral muscle. She couldn’t wait to get him naked and use his body as her own personal playground.

  He must’ve thought she had the right idea about getting skin-to-skin because his hand left her ribs and slid low on her skirt, bunching it in his hand, working the fabric higher as their kisses turned wet and desperate.

  Pinning the fabric between their bodies, he grabbed a firm hold on the back of her thigh, lifting her leg and wrapping it around his hip. His lips left hers to lave a path down her neck, then chest, along the hem of her dress.

  “I’ve got to get you in that room,” he growled into her skin. “Get your fucking clothes out of my way.”

  She loved this new side of him—the gruff seducer, oozing raw, primal need. Loved it even more than the smooth, easygoing gentleman part of his personality, or maybe because of how deliciously at odds his two halves were.

  He released her leg to reach sideways, opening the door. They stumbled in as a unit, clinging and kissing. From inside the room came a squeal of surprise.

  Tara, on top of the console table behind the sofa, bolted upright, clutching her dress in front of her naked chest like a sheet. Jake was completely nude and probably the brawniest naked man Jenna had ever seen, like a beefcake lumberjack. Not her style, but really darn studly nonetheless. He’d frozen midthrust between Tara’s legs, his thick arms popping veins while holding her hips in place against him, making no move at all to cover him
self or her.

  A gentleman, he was not.

  Jenna had never considered herself a voyeur, and didn’t care much for porn, but Tara and Jake locked together was pretty hot.

  Matt released a yelp of agony and clamped his hands over his eyes. All Jenna could do was smile. Guess she’d been right about Tara’s attraction to bad boys. She couldn’t blame her; after all, Jenna planned to spend the rest of the night exploring some dirty fantasies with her own closeted bad boy.

  Tara pushed a tangle of hair from her face, not looking the least bit scandalized that she’d been caught in the act. “Oops.”

  “Really, Tara?” Matt scolded, his eyes still hidden behind his hand.

  Tara’s gaze slid to Jake in a bold appraisal before returning to Jenna and Matt. “Hey, we weren’t doing anything you weren’t about to.”

  “Except that you forgot how to lock the door.”

  Jake’s lips contorted, like he was battling a smile. “Where’s the sport in that?”

  A strangled noise bubbled from Matt’s throat. “You’re talking about my sister, not a sport.”

  “Since you brought her up, let me tell you something about crazy chicks.” His lips lost the battle as a broad, shit-eating grin broke out over his face. “The sex is unbelievable.”

  Tara gave him a hard shove that nearly knocked him off balance. “Hey, I’m not crazy.”

  He grinned down at her and yanked her hips toward him. “What? I dig your brand of crazy.”

  Matt groaned. “Not enough brain bleach in the world.”

  Tara slung an arm around Jake’s neck and whispered something in his ear too quiet for Jenna to hear.

  Time for Jenna and Matt to take a hint and leave. She pushed Matt backward, out of the room. “Have fun, you two.”

  “How about you do the world a favor and use the lock this time?” Matt hollered as Jenna gave him a final shove that sent him in the hallway.

  “Jenna,” Tara called, her tone beseeching.