Foolin'

by Allyson Young

  “Absolutely.” She gave him her best smile, one she hadn’t used around a man in a long time, but it felt good on her lips.

  Chapter Three

  Watching her slice off another piece of meat, place it in her mouth, and sigh with delight made him fucking hard. He hadn’t wanted the evening to end, though knew it was highly unlikely she would have asked him into the motel room.

  So feeding her, sitting across from her in the community hall among his friends and neighbors, his brother and Merry, was the absolute next best thing to having her in his bed. Except maybe holding her curvy body in a two-step, though keeping his hands to himself had been a huge challenge.

  It’d been surreal, walking across the width of the room to where she sat with that pale, raven-haired witch, who glittered like the worst of winter. Kathleen, in her modest dress of a bunch of greens all swirled together, had looked like his favorite time of the year. Spring. When the melt ran, and the first shoots pushed free of the earth, and the early calves frisked around their mommas. The signs of life.

  Something clicked way back in his head when she looked at him, some kind of switch that unlocked a piece he’d forgotten about—or had locked away. More than a simple appreciation of a good-looking woman. More than hooking up and getting off. Their stares had collided, and he’d been interested.

  He didn’t have to lean down to talk to her and crick his neck. Her head fit just right at his chin when they danced, and she flowed with his lead like a dream. Good thing he was circumspect in holding her or she’d have felt his carnal interest in spades. Men his age surely didn’t sport wood on the freaking dancefloor with a woman they’d just met. Good thing he hadn’t lost his sports jacket like most of the other guys had.

  She wasn’t a raving beauty, not like Carolynn. And fuck that nonsense. He wasn’t going to think about the two of them in the same sentence ever again. No comparison. None. Kathleen had strong features, a nose that said she’d stand her ground and cheekbones that made him wonder about her ancestry. Maybe a proud warrior in there. Her mouth was so mobile, wide and clearly made for smiling—and probably other things—and her curious eyes telegraphed her moods. He’d been fascinated charting them.

  Minimal makeup, no heavy perfume, and no-fuss hair, a mane she probably brushed most days and tied out of the way or left to fend for itself. A natural woman.

  “You’re staring at me.” Her cheeks were pink.

  “Sorry.” He went for broke. “I was just thinking how … natural you are.”

  A tiny line appeared between her brows. “Natural?”

  “Not artificial.”

  “Oh. Thank you. I think.”

  He nodded vigorously, unable to stop like some fool bobblehead doll. “It’s a compliment.”

  Her blush deepened. A woman who blushed! He figured the next thing he’d be writing poetry. She said, “The meat—your steer—is fabulous. Though I’m glad I didn’t meet him.”

  “Uh.” That kicked him off track a little.

  “I’m not a vegetarian, but I don’t think I could eat an animal I got to know. Not easily.”

  He shouldn’t find that cute. “People who raise animals for food don’t get attached. We can’t. Doesn’t mean we don’t respect the animal and we don’t maltreat it. At least I don’t.”

  “That makes good sense.” She took a forkful of potato casserole. “I’m enjoying this. I don’t eat these foods normally, so this is a treat.”

  “Are you a dieter?” He’d had enough of that with his ex to last a lifetime. Wait, he’d lived half of one. Funny how he felt like a teenager again.

  She huffed a laugh. “Do I look like I diet?”

  He was smart enough not to answer that question directly. “You look just right to me.”

  “Oh.” She stared at him, wide-eyed, and back down at her plate. “I meant I love food but you have to balance it with exercise, and a desk job doesn’t cut it.”

  “No gym membership?” he teased.

  “No. That’s a luxury.” She sampled the beans before eyeing the apple pie. “I walk as much as I can. And do a bit of yoga.”

  Sidetracked by the mental vision of that long body stretching and flexing, he blinked to stay in the moment. He didn’t know what bookkeepers made but suspected not as much as that Susan. Who was higher up in the accounting firm and let everyone know it. And Kathleen had a child, an adult child, but she’d be helping her financially.

  He asked, “Is Susan going to cause you grief?”

  “Yes. But I’m not thinking about that right now.” She picked up the pie, and he followed her lead with his own favorite, pumpkin.

  “Good pastry. Mine has a different texture, and I use more apples and less cinnamon.”

  He blinked and studied the bronze substance on his fork. He lived for these kinds of meals, and she discussed the food like she ate it every day. She probably did—in moderation. He’d go with that.

  They ate in silence for a few minutes before he added, “I’ll do whatever I can with Susan, Kathleen.”

  “And I appreciate it. Now, tell me about—”

  “Greetings, brother-in-law.” Merry plopped down beside him, red hair streaming over her shoulders and her face flushed. Her glazed green eyes suggested she’d imbibed a few. “I made Deke let me come over before we head home to relieve the sitter. Hopefully, the house is still standing. Little buggers.”

  “Kathleen, this is Merry, my brother’s wife, and my favorite sister-in-law. Merry, Kathleen Walker, bookkeeper from Johnson and somebody.”

  “Hey, Kathleen. Nice to meet you. You’ve set the whole town talking.”

  “Merry.” Deke hauled his wife up. “You should have stopped at that last beer. Sorry, Kathleen, though she’s only saying what most everyone else would like to say.”

  Merry cuddled into her husband. “Carter doesn’t dance. Or chat. Or share a meal with a woman.” Her whisper was like a dull roar.

  Kathleen took a quick look around. “I noticed people staring but—”

  “It’s not only because you’re a stranger,” Merry assured her. “I think it’s great! And—”

  “Home, my love.” Deke half-carried her away from the table. “Hope to talk to you again.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Carter heard himself say, and his brother nearly dropped Merry, who was clapping her hands.

  “Oh, okay. Right. Tomorrow.” With a final glance, the couple moved out of sight amongst the crowd.

  Kathleen was watching him, no artifice in her stare. “Tomorrow?”

  He scrambled. His mouth never got ahead of him. Never. And he couldn’t afford any more time out of his schedule, as wrecked as it was by attending tonight’s fundraiser. He didn’t have pressing business in the city, and he was already committed to driving her home. What was he doing? “If you don’t have plans, you might want to see the ranch.”

  “Oh.” She made a cute quizzical face where her eyes squinched and a little line appeared between her eyes. “I think I’d like that. But we’ll see how it goes.”

  He knew caution when he heard it and wrestled with disappointment. “For sure.”

  Setting her fork down, she said, “Is this some kind of … new thing with you?”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “Merry mentioned…”

  He came clean. “Right. I expect it’s because no one around here has seen me with a woman I focused on, for a couple of decades or so.”

  She laughed, an earthy sound, perfect for her. “And small towns get their entertainment where they can.”

  Heat burning up his neck, he said, “Got that in a nutshell. It’s like being in a play. I’m feeling center stage.” And he didn’t give a damn. He had to find a way to get her to spend the day at the ranch. He could drive her home later.

  What happened to bemoaning having no time to turn around? He ignored the call of duty for the first time in forever.

  Leaning forward, she said, “So what happens next?”

  A certain part
of him had an immediate answer, but he tamped it down, didn’t let it escape. “People will start filtering out, figuring out who can drive safe, who needs a ride. The cleanup committee will put away stuff and do the basics. The rest will be done tomorrow, and the hall will be ready for the next event.”

  “Kind of like the neighborhood I grew up in. It’s different where I live now. No old Mrs. Friesen to tattle on the kids or Mr. Corey to buy all the Girl Scout cookies. We did these sorts of things in the church basement—youth group, community dances, bake sales.”

  “Do you have a strong faith?” He wanted to know everything about this woman. Wanted her to know, within reason, about him.

  “No. I’m amazed by what we can’t explain, though. And there are some miraculous things that happen. I liked the camaraderie of the functions at the church. Not that I’d have a lot of time now even if I got involved.”

  A woman who was busy too. They had so much in common, but that fact was dispiriting. The physical distance was daunting, but their schedules on top of that? He tried to remember what she’d said about the events in the church. “You’d bake for those sales, I bet.”

  “I might.”

  He realized their table was empty except for them, and in fact, they were the last except for those cleaning up. He’d gotten away lucky tonight without people sticking their noses in, in part, no doubt because of Deke and Merry. Good thing, because he really didn’t want to share, or have Kathleen exposed to gossip.

  “I’d take you someplace for a drink, but the sidewalks rolled up some time ago.”

  “I guess I’d better head over to the motel.” From the quick squinch of her nose, she wasn’t entranced. He wasn’t either. Since Myrtle had passed, her son and his wife didn’t make much effort with the only local accommodations.

  Taking a breath, he said, “You’ll think I’m a letch, but you could come out to the ranch. Tonight. As I said, I’d like for you to see it. There are a couple of spare rooms that wouldn’t take much time to make up. I don’t mind coming in tomorrow to get you and show you the ranch, but it’d cut down on some time better used to take you around. I’m not a serial killer, and people would know where to look for you if you disappeared, right?”

  Those mercurial eyes sparkled green for a moment. “Unless they’d protect you. Preserve the quiet of the area.”

  He laughed. Loud enough that old Clayton paused in sweeping under the next table and stared at him. He supposed he didn’t laugh often and most wouldn’t know if he did. It made him laugh harder. Finally, he was able to say, “Not in cahoots with anyone, but your choice, Kathleen.”

  “I’d love to stay over at a working ranch.”

  The tension in the truck on the drive to the ranch was thick, cut-with-a-knife thick, but not in a bad way. Maybe it was more accurate to label it as anticipation. He wanted her to see his spread, both at night and in the daytime, and hoped the house wasn’t as dirty as he figured it was and that the hands had made an attempt at tidying the kitchen. Tidying. Jesus. He was becoming his mom.

  “My dad passed as the result of a run-in with an ornery bull.” He wanted her to know his stuff. Most of it.

  Her breath hissed in the confines of the cab. “Oh, no.”

  “Happens. I was nineteen and Deke fourteen. Us and Mom carried on.” He sometimes wondered if his dad’s mind wasn’t on the bull where it should have been, but rather on the scandal Carter had caused, impregnating the most popular girl in high school, her only seventeen, that two-year age difference not insurmountable, but still…

  “Is your mom…?”

  “In Florida, of all places. Went for a vacation with a friend several years ago, met a widower, and they set up house.”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  “She was alone for a long time. And deserved to be taken care of.”

  “Like you didn’t take care of her,” she scoffed.

  He stilled. This woman didn’t know him. How could she? And yet she’d coined an intrinsic part of his nature. “I did, but she took care of us, too.”

  And Carolynn and Justin. Got her heart broken again when his son died and yet again when Carter turned into himself and pushed her away. His gut ached to think of it.

  A whisper of fabric on the seat signaled her shift toward him. “Do you see her?”

  “I went down to make sure he’s a good guy, and we talk regular.” He hoped his mom had forgiven him, not that he’d say anything to her. “But I don’t think she wants to come back and I don’t have a lot of time.” For anything. The fundraiser had eaten away precious hours he could ill afford to lose. He’d committed to a minimum of another eight hours away tomorrow. Except he’d met Kathleen and it didn’t seem so worrisome now.

  “Good thing there’s Skype.”

  “True.” He slowed as they approached the driveway. “Long lane. You might see some of the horses along the fence line, but they’re likely hunkered in someplace.”

  “You have horses?” Her voice climbed a register.

  “They still work best with cattle, at least for me.”

  “I love horses. So does Lisa. Not that we’ve had much to do with them. Fairs, a couple of lessons for her, but we love them.”

  He knew the exact mount for her, a quiet mare named Becky who was growing fat because she didn’t get enough exercise. But they only had the weekend, and that was if she’d stay Saturday night too.

  Saturday? He never got ahead of himself, always the planner, yet here he was leaping into the future. His entire being was screaming for him to sit up and take notice. So many things about Kathleen added up to being what he needed, to explore this thing.

  He wrestled with his jumbled thoughts. She had a job in the city, and long-distance relationships never worked. Never mind that he never wanted a relationship of any kind.

  “I’ll introduce you to some horses in the morning,” he promised, getting hold of himself, and smiled when she actually bounced a little.

  Pulling up to the house, he braked and waited for her reaction. The outside lighting softened the lines and warmed up the weather-beaten wood. The veranda was easy to make out, the chairs inviting, despite the swooping moths.

  “It’s sprawling. And impressive. Yet it’s welcoming, Carter. No wonder you see it as your family legacy.”

  “The land’s more impressive. Makes a person feel small, as it should so you don’t get too big for your britches out there.”

  “I can’t wait to see it.”

  Cracking open his door, he said, “You’ll be lucky to catch a fraction, but I’ll do my best.”

  He helped her down from her seat and surreptitiously inhaled the scent of her—clean, feminine, and a bit of spice. Unapologetically, he used the cover of relative darkness to bring her close as he ensured she gained her footing.

  “Careful on the walk. It’s a bit uneven.” With an arm around her waist, he escorted her up the steps and to the door, her case in his free hand. The old house pulled them in as the heavy panels shut behind them.

  Kathleen stopped. She stared around, up at the high beams in the foyer and the solid wooden staircase ahead. Looked down the hall toward the kitchen and then into the dim depths of the great room. “It’s rustic, and I love it. Do you have a fireplace?”

  “Everyone has a fireplace for when the power goes off.”

  “Oh. That happens a lot?”

  “Not as much as it used to, but we can’t rely on it. At least we have Internet because of the eyesore of an antenna I screwed to the roof.” That came down at least once a year in the high winds. But he didn’t want to sour her viewpoint.

  “It’s a great house.”

  Grateful that the lighting was subdued, he led the way to the staircase before halting. “Do you want something to eat or drink?”

  “After that spread, as you called it?” She laughed. “I’m good for a day at least.”

  “The country air will change your mind. C’mon then, I’ll let you choose the room.”

&n
bsp; She peeked into the three furnished with beds, the fourth being his and he wasn’t that much of an optimist, and the fifth full of junk. They were all similar with low, wide beds, a dresser, and a nightstand. He’d cleaned all the personality out of them years ago. The little boy things…

  “This one is fine.” She picked the one closest to his.

  “Sure thing. The linen closet is here.” He opened the door and hoped it had kept everything sealed against dust. A slight scent of old material wafted out. “They’re clean.”

  She plucked a sheet set and a comforter from the lower shelf, the pile hiding her from his gaze, and he sighed. Maybe he should have insisted on coffee or a nightcap. He didn’t want to be shot of her company yet.

  He set her case on the floor and moved to help her make up the bed. She threw him a startled glance before they worked together in unison. He stole a look down the front of her dress—twice. The swell of her large breasts was displayed over a pink, lacy bra and his pants tightened further.

  When she leaned to stroke out a wrinkle on the comforter, the fabric of her dress stretched over her round ass, and he wasn’t quick enough to wrench his stare away. She caught him looking.

  “I think I’m good. I should probably get to bed,” she said. “What time do you get up?”

  “Early. And I head out straight away. You stay in bed until you’re ready to face the day. I’ll leave you my cell number, and you text me. I’ll head back.”

  “I’m an early riser too.”

  “Five o’clock for me tomorrow, Kathleen.”

  “Oh, maybe not. I’ll text you.”

  He pulled out his cell. “What’s your number?”

  With the exchange complete, he lurked in the doorway. “The bathroom is across the hall. Towels in the cabinet.”

  “Great, thanks. I’ve got everything I need.”

  Did she? So near and yet so far, she hovered there like a wood sprite. When she stooped to slip the strap off her shoe, then the other and stepped out of the heels, he found he’d closed the gap.

  “Kathleen.”