Last First Kiss (Brightwater #1)

by Lia Riley

  Just because she wasn’t settling in Brightwater didn’t mean she couldn’t try to track down her old, more free-spirited self.

  Maybe a little harmless neighborly flirtation would provide the key to the map.

  Chapter Ten

  ALL SAWYER WANTED was a cold beer and an hour to catch the end of the ball game. It had been a long day, a routine traffic stop leading to a drug bust. He startled at the movement in the corner of his darkened living room. “What the hell—”

  “I saw you this morning.” Grandma gripped the handles of the recliner. Her shadowed jowls resembled Marlon Brando’s Don from The Godfather.

  “What do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” He shot Maverick a look. Couldn’t you have alerted me with a warning whine?

  His trusty guard dog responded with a yawn and curled on the hand-braided rug.

  “You aren’t fooling me, Sneaky Britches,” she snapped. “Nothing stirs so much as a feather on this ranch without me knowing. I saw you.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Climbing over the fence.”

  He said nothing, learned a long time ago that the less he said, the more others talked, and that was the way to acquire useful information.

  “You’re helping the Carson girl, aren’t you?” she growled.

  He should have anticipated this outcome. Grandma kept binoculars on the window ledge above her kitchen sink and patrolled Hidden Rock with the tenacity of a Cold War soldier.

  “I keep talking myself blue in the face about how it’s not natural for a man of your age to live without a woman. You have needs and it’s high time you start a family.”

  Had he pissed off karma? He’d done things he wasn’t proud of in life, but in no way, shape, or form did that warrant a lecture on his “needs” from Grandma.

  “I’ve made a list.” She briskly plucked a piece of paper from her shirt pocket and opened it, clearing her throat. “Let’s see, what about Marigold Flint? She never married and owns The Baker’s Dozen. At least you won’t go hungry.”

  Goldie’s real specialty wasn’t baking, it was spreading scandalous rumors under the guise of Now, I can’t say this for an absolute fact but . . . “I wouldn’t date that blabbermouth if she was the last one on earth.”

  “Oh, pshaw, men always say things like that, but trust me, if you and she were the last two people on earth you’d—”

  “I said no. Can we please quit?”

  “Fine. Her coffee is always burnt anyway.” She tapped her finger on her lower lip. “The new librarian is one of the Higsby clan. They are good, honest folks. Not the brightest bulbs in the box, mind, but loyal, long-lived, fertile.”

  He couldn’t restrain a snort. “The trifecta of marital happiness?”

  Grandma cast him a sharp-eyed gaze. “Don’t gamble on your future, boy, there’s no sense in that. Marry for like. Love only brings heartache.”

  Sawyer wanted to point out that most Kanes with the exception of himself, and his older brother, visited Vegas at least once a year. Gambling was in their blood, a family passion, but he held his tongue. Grandma had a far-off look in her eye, as if remembering her own short-lived marriage.

  “With all due respect, please don’t manage my life,” he said gently.

  “Anyway, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Grandma blew out an annoyed breath. “She’s fixing to sell up.”

  Sawyer didn’t need to be told who she was. Annie.

  Grandma coughed. “What she should do is return what’s ours.”

  “The Carsons have owned that property over a hundred years, made improvements—”

  “Improvements? Hah. Imagine planting an orchard in this climate? What’s the sense in that? They’ve always been kooky.”

  Sawyer had to chalk one up to Grandma. The orchard was stunted, the fruit unable to grow well in this climate.

  “The land can’t go to an outsider,” Grandma said, steel in her voice. “It’s rightly ours.”

  “Well, the law’s clear that it’s not.”

  “Law, shaw.”

  A car door slammed. Maverick growled. Sawyer cocked his head.

  Now what?

  A low grumble rose from deep in Maverick’s throat as his ears folded back. Strange. He once encountered a mountain lion on a hike and all the dog did was give a high-spirited tail wag.

  Someone knocked on the front door.

  “Expecting company?” Grandma twiddled her thumbs. “A woman?”

  “Jesus,” he muttered.

  “You know how I feel about blasphemy, boy.”

  He gritted his teeth and turned the doorknob, and the Earth shifted underfoot.

  “Boy?” Ruby King set a hand on her hip, tossing her long platinum hair over one shoulder. “Well, you are a big boy.”

  Grandma actually gasped. Talk about being between a rock and a hard place, except he wasn’t hard for his ex-fiancée anymore.

  Grandma rose to her feet. “You have some nerve showing your face on my land.”

  “Afternoon, Mrs. Kane.” The white veneers on Ruby’s teeth were blinding.

  Grandma clenched a hand as if mentally reaching for her trusted BB gun. No doubt Ruby fell under her definition of a common varmint.

  “Grandma, why don’t you go on and take Maverick back to your house?” he said, stepping between them. “Give him one of those bones he likes so much.”

  Maverick kept up a low growl that matched Grandma’s rumble.

  No one budged.

  Finally, Ruby entered, and stepped over Maverick, who caught Sawyer’s eye. Sawyer shook his head once. No biting.

  Maverick woofed, rose with his tail between his legs, and padded to the front door.

  Grandma looked like she might do the biting instead.

  “I’ll come and fetch him soon,” Sawyer said quietly.

  Grandma kept her posture ramrod straight, but he sensed her relenting on the inside. Affection licked him. She might be crazy, but she was his crazy, on his team, ready to guard his back through thick and thin. Not that he needed a team against Ruby. He had this handled.

  “God, I thought she’d never leave,” Ruby drawled after Grandma slammed the door with a little too much force. She picked an imaginary split end and frowned at his L-shaped sectional couch. “Is there dog hair on that?”

  “Probably.”

  He didn’t offer her a seat. This wasn’t going to take long. “Why are you here?”

  She smirked and strutted to his fireplace, setting one hand against the mantle, thrusting her shoulders back and showing off her twin assets.

  His heart didn’t quicken. Nothing like the gallop when Annie tromped out of her house in that short pink bathrobe, eyes sleepy and hair wild, or how she looked in a simple pair of cut-off jean shorts. The thing was she was impossible not to like. She infused the air she moved through with a warm glow, even now, after all this time apart. With Ruby, physical desire was all well and good, but he’d grown old enough, and wise enough, to have learned true chemistry had an indefinable extra spark, that thing where after burning up the sheets you can agree what to watch on Netflix or wander out for a midnight stargaze.

  “It’s time we have a little chat, Moose,” she purred. Chatting to Ruby meant dirty talk, and he was over that particular conversation, at least with her.

  “You’re married, Ruby,” he said tightly. “Congratulations.”

  She rolled her eyes. “In name only, dummy.” Her lips pursed with smug satisfaction as she noted his obvious confusion. “Buck’s my husband, but not my husband husband.”

  “I knew things were different in Hollywood, but what you’re saying doesn’t make sense.”

  “He’s batting for the other team, Moose. Your team.”

  “What?” He was so confused he let her old nickname for him slide. Of all the things he ima
gined Ruby saying this was nowhere on the list.

  “I’m a beard, baby.”

  Ruby hated body hair. “A beard?”

  “Buck’s gay, but he makes his living playing big, macho men on screen. Guys who get the girl, not the guy. He wants to keep up appearances, and that’s where I come in,” she said with a smug smile.

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “It’s a business decision. Buck can offer me a lifestyle second to none. He’s a great guy, brings home great guys, and it’s all a lot of fun. But I’m lonely and a girl needs to have a good time.”

  “Your marriage was a business decision?” he repeated, stunned.

  “Buck gets that silly ‘heterosexual’ label, which is good for his career, and I get my foot in the door in Hollywood.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Buck made me sign all these legal papers and promise to be discreet while he promoted Tumbleweeds. With all the reporters poking around Brightwater after it won the Oscar, the risk of someone discovering our arrangement was too high. But now the hype’s died down, and I miss you, Moosey.”

  “Don’t.” She’d called him that in bed. Once she’d gotten out a ruler and he’d let her measure it. He thought it was a bit of fun until she bragged about the size to all her friends. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

  “You’re so mean.” She gave her trademark pout.

  “Let me get this straight.” Sawyer’s insides churned. “You didn’t want my ring on your finger, but still want me between your sheets?”

  Ruby clapped her hands. “Yes, that’s it exactly.” She sauntered forward, hips swinging and expression confident. “See how perfect it is? You and me can still be, well, you and me. Do what we do best.” She stroked his chest, let her fingertips drag suggestively down his ribs.

  He couldn’t move. Not from lust, but shock.

  It wasn’t until she cupped his cock that he jumped. “Whoa,” she laughed. “Been a while?”

  He stepped back and held a warning hand. “Whatever you came here for isn’t happening.”

  “Oh, really, Sawyer, don’t be a prude.” She arched a brow. “Unless you want to play hard to get? Hmmmm. Roleplaying could be fun.”

  “No games, just straight talk. You and I are finished. There’s no epilogue.”

  “Now that’s your pride talking. Buck and I have a house in Beverly Hills and the Hamptons and a yacht in the Bahamas. I told him I wanted a place here too, in my hometown. A little love nest for us, Moose.” She reached behind her and there was the faint metal grind of a zipper before her dress puddled at her ankles. She’d come in battle armor, black lace push up and a barely-there thong. Every inch of her was Maxim-grade hotness, but repelled him like an opposing magnet. Not because her husband was gay, he didn’t care about that, but because she thought he’d agree to be used. The path to his heart wasn’t between his legs.

  “Ruby, come on, let it go,” he said, soft but insistent.

  A spark of doubt appeared in her eyes. This was a woman who sought approval like air. The secret vulnerability was what originally drew him to her, until he’d realized it was insatiable. She was a human flytrap, would catch people and suck them dry to fill herself.

  “I’m not letting you go.” Steel replaced the momentary insecurity. “There’s no point resisting. You know I always get my way.” She molded her hands around her breasts. “I need a little Oscar Mayer. My favorite bologna has a first name, it’s M-O-O-S—”

  Glass shattered behind him and Sawyer turned with a muffled curse. Damn it to hell.

  Annie blinked in the doorway, a broken plate and scattered muffins at her feet. Her pretty blue dress matched her eyes, like the August sky, so warm and deep it seemed impossible winter could ever come. She looked cute, vaguely different than the last few times he’d seen her. Good. Maybe the chores he kept doing were lessoning her workload. She’d been working too hard, with no time to take care of herself.

  “Sorry, I’m interrupting,” she mumbled.

  “Yes,” said Ruby, just as Sawyer answered, “No, you aren’t.”

  He bent and grabbed Ruby’s silk dress. “She’s leaving.”

  “No, that’s fine. Keep singing, Ruby,” Annie said, before disappearing the way she came, flying down the steps, running from him again. Fuck. Would anything ever go right between them?

  “Moose,” Ruby screeched as he stormed out of the house. “Stop! We aren’t finished here, not by a long shot.”

  He turned and lifted a warning finger. “If you aren’t off my property by the time I get back, I’ll arrest you for trespassing and indecent exposure.”

  He ignored her outraged gasp and chased Annie into the gathering dusk. She ran like wildfire, but he caught her near the fence, barely.

  “Annie,” he said breathing hard. “Wait. Please.”

  She pulled up short at the “please,” but kept her back to him.

  “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

  “Clearly,” she said flatly. “Jesus, I’ll never be able to look at bologna the same way again.”

  “I didn’t know Ruby was coming over.”

  “You’re a busy man.” Her hands balled into fists. “It was an imposition for me to show up unannounced. A stupid impulse. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Turn around. Look at me.”

  Annie’s shoulders hitched with one long heavy sigh. She slowly pivoted. The unshed tears in her eyes made him want to kick his own ass for causing her even inadvertent pain.

  “I know this doesn’t sound right, but none of that with Ruby was what it looked like.”

  “Okay.”

  He started. “Okay?”

  “Well . . . ” She rocked her head back and regarded the sky. “First, it’s not my business. But secondly, yeah. I believe you.” She kept her gaze away from his face. “Because if you wanted to be with her, you’d be there now.”

  Raw emotion clogged his throat. “Annie—”

  “All I wanted to do is say thanks for helping around the property.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “So guess we’re all done.” She executed a slow one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.

  He stepped toward her back, aching to take her into his arms. “Do we have to be?”

  “I meant for now.” She hugged herself tight. “You’ve probably had enough excitement for one afternoon.”

  His chest hurt and head throbbed. How the hell could he breach the gulf between them? All he could think to do was stick out his hand. “Friends at least.”

  She regarded it as the silence between them thickened. What he wouldn’t give to see the thoughts cranking through her head.

  “Sure.” She took his hand and he couldn’t tell if the scent filling his senses came from the meadow grass or her. “Friends. At least to a point.”

  “Nah, it doesn’t work that way.” His voice came out husky and intense. Good. Let her know she affected the fuck out of him. He pulled her close, pressing his forehead against hers. “We’re either friends or we aren’t.”

  She seemed to consider her response carefully, but gently pushed him away regardless. “Friends then. Don’t want to be on the sheriff’s bad side.” She forced a laugh and tugged free, swinging a leg over the fence. Her dress exposed her up to mid-thigh, but he kept his face trained on hers.

  “Annie . . . since the fireworks, you’re all I can—”

  “See you around.” And all she left him with was the view of her cute ass disappearing into the gathering shadows. He was an idiot to stand there, watching her go, pining so hard he’d create his own damn forest.

  She dipped down the hill, the last sign of her vanishing from sight before he tore off his hat and hit the side of his leg with the brim. Part of him wanted to forget common sense, hurdle the fence, take her into his arms, and show her how right they could be, if
they’d only give each other a chance. But he didn’t want their first kiss to come under the shadow of Ruby. It had to be special, a moment that was theirs and theirs alone. After all, he wanted it to be her last first kiss.

  Chapter Eleven

  [draft]

  Musings of a Mighty Mama

  Sister, Sister

  older posts>>

  Dear Readers,

  Today is the eleventh day of the Mighty Mama gratitude challenge. Let’s talk about family can’t kill them so might as well love them. In particular, let’s chat about sisters. I’m going to go all Christmas in July and quote my favorite holiday movie, White Christmas (can I get a What? What? For the dapper swoon that is Bing Crosby?). If you’ve seen the flick, you know the two heroines are sisters, famous for a singing act where they croon about their devotion to each other, as long as the other doesn’t get in the way of their man. Now, my favorite person in the whole world is currently at Five Diamonds, my big sister, Claire. While we don’t share the same taste in guys she has a thing for bad ass bikers and I trend toward confusing cowboy sheriffs, , we do have a lot of fun fighting. I think you can truly say there have never been such devoted sisters devoted in the art of driving the other bonkers.

  Draft Saved by Mighty Mama 04:45pm in family life, summer fun | Permalink | comments (0)

  “SHUT YOUR PIE hole and shimmy into this dress, Annabelle Carson!”

  The only thing preventing Annie from snarling at her bossy sister was the fact Atticus stood in the doorway, hands pressed over his ears. She loved Claire. She truly did. But her sister drove her to Crazy Town with that know-it-all attitude. She’d built an empire selling overpriced toast to suckers, but apparently power had gone to her head because she appeared more than justified ordering Annie to attend the gala at The Dales once the invitation arrived.

  “I really, really, really don’t want to go.” Annie hugged her towel closer. The party seemed fun in theory, but now that it was actually here, why go out when she could stay home and obsess over the memory she’d played on repeat the last few weeks, that moment in the parking lot when Sawyer’s lips pressed warm against her neck. Her hands and heart had been so long empty, and for those brief seconds she’d been filled. Every few hours she’d find herself paused, mid-task, idly touching her mouth, lost in longing.