Ready to Run

by Lauren Layne

Jordan shrugged. “Sure.”

  “Now, hold on,” Luke said, speaking up for the first time, which trained Jordan’s attention on him. Also for the first time.

  “Do you even know what a kissing booth is?” he asked.

  Her glare was withering, but Luke pressed forward anyway. “It means you sit in a booth, literally, and guys pay to kiss you.”

  “Or girls!” Vicky said. “That’s no problem with me.”

  “I think I can handle it,” Jordan said, smiling at him sweetly. “Might be nice, actually. Been a while since I’ve been kissed…decently.”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed, but Jordan turned back to Vicky. “Count me in.”

  Then she spun on her heel and marched her jeans-clad ass out into the early autumn sunshine.

  Ryan gave Luke an assessing look before following her.

  Had it not been for Vicky still standing beside him, Luke might have punched something.

  “So,” Vicky said. “I’ll count you in for the booth too? Saturday at noon?”

  He pried his gaze away from Jordan’s backside to give his mom’s friend a look. “Could have sworn I told you no not five minutes ago.”

  “Yes, Luke, but that was before,” she said patiently.

  “Before what?”

  She merely smiled wider. Before Jordan. “So I’ll count you in?”

  Hell no.

  But then his thoughts returned to Jordan. His mind pictured dozens of faceless men kissing her.

  He didn’t want to watch it go down.

  But not knowing would be a hell of a lot worse.

  Plus, this way he could write down the name of every poor bastard who dared to put his lips to hers….

  “Yeah,” he muttered gruffly to Vicky. “Count me in.”

  —

  The second Jordan opened the box of clothes she’d just received from New York, she called Simon.

  He answered on the first ring, already laughing. “Don’t be mad.”

  “What. Is. This?” Jordan asked, picking up a denim skirt she’d never seen in her life—the likes of which nobody had seen in at least a decade.

  “Okay, so you opened that box first. I was sort of hoping for that. The other two boxes are all your stuff, I swear.”

  “Is this a tube top?” Jordan asked, aghast as she lifted a tiny bit of white fabric out of the box of unfamiliar items.

  “Yes, but it has a lace top to go over it. Layers are in, babe.”

  “Layers never went out,” Jordan countered. “Tube tops definitely did, though. In the eighties.”

  Jordan glanced at the clock on the stove. Four o’clock. Close enough to wine o’clock.

  She grabbed an open bottle of white from the fridge and poured a small glass for courage before she resumed unpacking the box.

  “Do I even want to know what the thought was behind all this?”

  “My thought was that you’re in Small Town, Montana, and none of your clothes are well suited.”

  “Not true,” Jordan protested. “I’ve got a couple pair of jeans, and those are the universal language.”

  “You have AG skinny jeans,” Simon countered. “Not Levi’s.”

  “How do you even know the word Levi’s?”

  “You forget that I’ve been to Lucky Hollow. Have you gotten to the boots yet?”

  “The boo—” Jordan hurriedly dug to the bottom of the package, where, sure enough, two boot boxes were stacked.

  “I’m guessing these aren’t a nice pair of this season’s over-the-knee suede lace-up boots?” Jordan said, lifting the shoe boxes onto her kitchen counter.

  “Well—”

  Jordan opened the first one and groaned. “Teal? Are. You. Kidding. Me?”

  “I know. They’re killer. I couldn’t believe it when I saw them. I looked right at them and thought, Jordan needs them, and you’re welcome. Don’t worry, the second pair is more practical.”

  She’d give her friend credit there, Jordan granted, as she warily opened the lid on the second box. As far as cowboy boots went, they were…cute. Really cute.

  For that matter, so were the teal ones, they were just…teal.

  “Do I even want to know how much I owe you for all this stuff I didn’t ask for?”

  “On me,” Simon said. “This is a perk of having a fancy lawyer as your best friend.”

  “What, that you can buy me turquoise cowboy boots and tube tops?”

  “Have you tried them on yet?” Simon demanded. “I want pictures.”

  Jordan pushed the boxes away and picked up her wine, taking it into the living room and plopping on her couch. “I guess I should be grateful you resisted the urge to get me a cowboy hat.”

  “Only because I didn’t know your head size. And I figured Manhattan wasn’t the best place to buy one.”

  “You think?”

  “Don’t even try to tell me you’re not going to look hot in those boots,” Simon said. “Your legs, those boots, and that tiny denim skirt, and the Montana boys will be eating out of your hand.”

  “Just what I always wanted,” Jordan muttered.

  “Well, admittedly not as good as them eating your—”

  Jordan made a buzzing noise. “Nope. No sex advice from the gay guy.”

  “Your loss. Is this grumpy thing you’re doing your way of telling me you’re no closer to getting Hunky Luke to be part of your show?”

  “Hunky Luke? Is that what we’re calling him? And, no, he’s still not interested.”

  “Well…at least it’s not a surprise, right? I mean, the guy did rather clearly ignore your emails and phone calls, and from what I saw, he looked a lot more interested in boning you than in becoming a superstar.”

  Jordan rubbed her forehead. “He does not want to bone me.”

  “He does. And if he doesn’t, the cowboy boots and short skirt will change his mind,” Simon said.

  “I want him to be intrigued by the girls on the show, not by me,” Jordan said.

  A total lie, but her friend either didn’t notice or was smart enough to know Jordan didn’t want to talk about that.

  It had been days since their unexpected kiss and she’d thought about almost nothing else, even as she’d been casually trying to coax someone into dropping details about Luke’s former almost-brides.

  “Honey, question, and you can’t get mad,” Simon said.

  “If I was going to be mad, it’d be over the tacky boots.”

  “They have character,” her friend argued. “But, okay, don’t bite my head off, ready?”

  Jordan rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

  “You don’t sound all that miserable.”

  Jordan laughed. “That’s what you think I’d be mad about?”

  “It’s just…you know how you were on the drive there? You couldn’t wait to get out. But now you seem…happy.”

  “Maybe that’s because I know I’m coming home soon.”

  She waited for that to feel true—waited for relief at the thought of getting back to Manhattan. To her busy life, where she never had time to think, much less miss her family or think about her future, or…

  “Are you coming home soon?” Simon asked skeptically.

  “Depends. Raven’s coming to grips with the fact that Luke’s probably a no-go. I guess they’ve got another guy. But before she pulls me out, she wants me to figure out if there’d be a story with his exes.”

  “Wow, they’re thinking spin-off already?”

  “Five steps ahead or bust,” Jordan said, automatically parroting her boss’s favorite pep talk.

  “Makes for a nice inspirational post, but do you think there’s a story there?”

  “Hard to say,” Jordan admitted. “So far the only one I know is Stacey. And she’s gorgeous, completely likable, and still single, but…”

  “But?”

  “I dunno,” Jordan said, sipping her wine. “Is it weird that I like her too much to ask?”

  “I knew it!” Simon said. “You’re falling for that town and al
l its little people.”

  “They’re not little,” Jordan said, her tone testier than she ever used with Simon.

  There was a moment of silence. “No, they’re not. I didn’t mean it that way. But, babe, what the hell is going on with you?”

  She swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m working, I am. I check in with Raven daily. It’s just…I worry my reasons for being here are muddy.”

  “Jordan Elise Carpenter, are you crushing on that firefighting cowboy?”

  Jordan adored Simon too much to lie, but she still stayed stubbornly silent, not quite ready to admit just how much she liked Luke Elliott.

  Jordan wrinkled her nose. “Kind of?”

  Simon made a sigh that was half happy, half dismayed. “Oh, sweetie. Have you slept with him yet?”

  “Simon!”

  “Have you?”

  “No!”

  “But you want to,” her friend said smugly.

  Jordan scowled into her wine. She was going to need another glass if this conversation kept up.

  “I’d be fired.”

  “Maybe. If anyone found out.”

  “It’s not gonna happen.”

  “You and your small-town morals,” he said with another sigh. “But okay, fine, let’s say he’s off-limits. Is there anyone else you can hook up with? If you have to live in the boonies for a month, you at least need to come back with a fling under your belt. Oh, speaking of which, I put a cowboy-style belt buckle in there. I was thinking you could pair it with the skirt and that blue blouse that makes your eyes look amazing.”

  “Oh, so you actually did pack some of my clothes,” Jordan said sarcastically.

  “Yes, and I watered that weird plant in the corner.”

  “It’s fake, Simon.”

  “Shit. Well, okay, I’ll try to swing by later, make sure there’s not a leaky mess. Your neighbor’s cute.”

  “Straight.”

  “Damn; figures. Okay, but, listen, Jordan—let yourself do your thing with Luke. For you, mostly, but also because I’ve heard that straight men will do just about anything once they’ve experienced the Magic Hoo-Ha.”

  Jordan laughed. “Okay, I’m hanging up now.”

  “To try on your new boots, I hope. Remember, pictures. Surely you have a hoedown to wear them to? Carnival? Corn-shucking contest?”

  Jordan winced. “There is the county fair on Saturday.”

  “Stop it right now. You’re going, right?”

  “I may or may not have agreed to sit in a kissing booth.”

  “Tell me that’s as deliciously old-fashioned as it sounds.”

  “Old-fashioned, yes. But I don’t think this is going to be the Girls Gone Wild version of a kissing booth.”

  “Wear the outfit I picked out. You’ll get some.”

  “I don’t want to get some,” Jordan said, standing and going to the fridge for more wine.

  “Sure you do,” her friend said, with a smirk so obvious, it came through in his voice.

  Okay, yeah. Maybe she kind of did.

  Chapter 16

  No doubt about it. This definitely ranked in the top five dumbest things Luke had ever done.

  “Any questions?” Vicky asked, beaming up happily up at him after going through the checklist on her clipboard.

  “Dollar in the box, kiss this ugly mug,” Charlie said, leaning on the counter of the booth and pointing at Luke’s face. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t screw it up.”

  Luke scowled at his friend. “Surely you have somewhere else to be.”

  “Nope.”

  “Great, then you can take my spot.”

  Charlie grinned. “No can do. Deb has deemed my lips all hers.”

  “Disgusting,” Luke muttered. “Does she know where they’ve been?”

  Charlie ignored him. “So, Vick, love, is this a kiss-on-the-cheek thing or a…you know.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “The good stuff?”

  “It’s whatever the paying client and Luke mutually agree upon,” Vicky said, as though she were negotiating an international peace treaty and not the nuances of a kissing booth.

  Charlie jerked his thumb toward the booth to their left. “Where’s the girl?”

  Yeah, where’s the girl? Luke’s thoughts echoed grumpily.

  Vicky checked her watch. “She’ll be here. She still has a few minutes. You guys are just early. Oh, Luke, did I mention? There’s a contest.”

  “Oh, good. I thought this couldn’t get worse.”

  “What sort of contest?” Charlie said, rubbing his hands together.

  Vicky pointed to the blue box in front of Luke, then to the pink box at what would be Jordan’s booth. “Whoever wins the most money gets one of Mrs. Mouse’s pies.”

  “A pie,” Luke repeated.

  “A Mrs. Mouse pie. Winner’s choice of flavor,” Vicky explained.

  Charlie nodded reverently.

  “I don’t like pie,” Luke said.

  “Everyone likes pie,” Vicky insisted. “Not that it’ll matter if you keep up this bad attitude. Nobody wants to kiss a grumpy man.”

  Jordan did.

  Or at least she had. A week ago.

  She’d been at Tucker’s both Thursday and Friday nights, but she’d only given him an impersonal wave; they hadn’t exchanged a single word.

  He hadn’t seen her running either.

  She was avoiding him. Or simply not interested.

  Neither one did a single thing to ease his grumpiness.

  “Hot damn,” Charlie muttered under his breath. “If Deb asks, I didn’t even notice, but…hot damn.”

  “What are you—”

  Luke was turning irritably toward his friend when his eyes caught what Charlie was going on about. Hot damn was exactly right.

  He’d thought there could be nothing sexier than Jordan Carpenter in those sky-high stilettos she insisted on wearing, but he’d been wrong. Dead wrong.

  Jordan in a tiny jeans skirt, white T-shirt, and cowboy boots was…

  He swallowed.

  “You’ve got exactly zero chance of winning this contest,” Charlie told Luke.

  The fact that Charlie’s eyes were back on Luke rather than on Jordan’s thighs was the only thing that kept Luke from telling him to get lost.

  “Oh, Jordan, you made it!” Vicky said happily. “I just need to walk you through the rules—”

  “Allow me,” Charlie said, holding up a hand to halt Vicky’s clipboard lecture. “No tongue, you don’t have to kiss anyone you don’t want to, and there’s a whistle down to your bottom right if someone makes you uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t want you to worry about a thing, though,” Vicky rushed to say. “I’m confident everyone will be perfect gentlemen, and if anyone gets out of hand, I’ll be nearby. And, of course, Luke will be right here.”

  At that, Jordan looked at him for the first time, her blue eyes locking on his. She’d done something different with her makeup, which made her eyes look even bigger than usual, and her lips were pink and plump and…

  Perfect for a kissing booth.

  Damn it. He had zero chance of winning the pie, but that wasn’t what had him pissed. No, he was mad about the fact that anyone other than him would be kissing that perfectly delicious mouth.

  Jordan broke the eye contact as Vicky ushered her into the booth, fluffing Jordan’s hair as though she were a doll. “You’re so pretty. I just know you’re going to be a huge hit.”

  “You sound like the madam of a brothel,” Luke muttered.

  “And how would you know what a brothel was like?” Vicky asked, giving him a look. “Jordan, doesn’t Luke look handsome?”

  He rolled his eyes, but Jordan glanced over at him with a smile. “He does, yes.”

  Luke glanced back at her, then away again, lest she see that he was dangerously close to grinning like an eighth-grader who’d gotten his first compliment from a girl.

  “Well, this all looks like fun,” Charlie said, moving out from behind Luke’s booth and g
esturing between him and Jordan, “but there’s definitely a deep-fried Twinkie and a hot third-grade teacher awaiting my company.”

  Charlie winked at Jordan. “I’ll check back on you two kids soon. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  “Which means, basically, don’t have sex at the booth, and anything else is fair game,” Vicky said, eliciting a shocked laugh from anyone within hearing distance.

  “Okay.” Vicky moved around to the front of the booths, whipped two flyers out of her clipboard, and hung one on top of each.

  Luke poked his head forward, glanced up, saw the OPEN sign scribbled in black Sharpie.

  “Go time,” Vicky said, giving them a happy wave before wandering away to yell at Jerry Hinkel to not even think about participating in the hot-dog-eating contest with his cholesterol.

  There was a long moment of awkward silence, even as the ever-increasing number of fair attendees milled in front of them, and Luke surprised himself by being the first to speak.

  “Did you agree to this just to piss me off?”

  She leaned an elbow on her booth and turned to grin at him. “Mostly. Did you agree simply because I did?”

  “Mostly,” he said, giving her a reluctant smile back. “You don’t have to, you know. Vicky won’t mind if you back out.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Nice try, Elliott.”

  They had to wait all of fifteen more seconds for their first customer. Jordan’s first customer.

  A pimpled kid with puffy yellow hair shoved a dollar bill into the box and grinned happily at her as he adjusted his glasses.

  Jordan grinned back, friendly and welcoming. “How old are you, handsome?”

  “Sixteen. Seventeen next month.”

  She turned her head, pointed playfully at her cheek. The teenager came eagerly forward, planting a quick, awkward kiss somewhere near her ear. He pulled back, and Jordan leaned forward, giving him a peck in return on his cheek.

  The boy went from pink to scarlet, but even Luke had to smile at the elation on his face before he backed away and ran off.

  He must have told his friends, because a minute later Jordan repeated the process with a group of equally gangly teenagers.

  “That’ll give ’em something to talk about for months,” Luke said, after the last of the boys had moved on, talking about how she was a total babe.

  “Speaking from experience?” Jordan asked.