by Cat Johnson
Ellen’s coffee hadn’t even cooled when Shooter’s truck peeled into the parking lot, windows down and radio blaring. Her brows shot up to her hairline. He’d actually come, and in a timely manner, just as promised. Miracles did happen. After stashing the cup in the console, she reached for the door handle. She was out of the car and leaning against it by the time Shooter approached, jumper cables dangling from his hand.
“Hey. Pop the hood for me?” Black cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes, he stalked to the front of the car without making eye contact. He must be pissed off she’d called him.
Oh well. At least he was here and she had some hope of getting home in the near future. She reached inside and pulled the hood release. Shooter had it propped open and was already fiddling with the battery as she walked to stand next to him. There was just enough illumination from the overhead parking light one aisle over for him to see to attach the cables.
“I’m sorry I had to call you. Wes wasn’t answering and—”
“It’s fine. I was awake,” he interrupted her explanation.
Just as she’d figured. She had a pretty good idea why he’d been up at this time of night. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
Still leaning over the engine, he swiveled his head to frown at her. “For what?”
“For disturbing you.” She didn’t elaborate upon what exactly she was sure she’d disrupted him from doing.
“I told you I was already awake.”
“Yeah, I know you were awake, and I know she—whoever the catch of the day was—probably wasn’t too happy to have you running off in the middle of…you know.”
He let out a bitter sounding laugh. “You don’t know everything.”
She found herself staring at the brim of his hat as he ducked his head again and busied himself under the hood.
“No, I guess I don’t.” She didn’t know how to jumpstart a car and she sure as hell didn’t know what was up with Shooter that he was acting so strangely.
No flirting. No insults. No joking. He was just talking normally, which was definitely not normal for him. And he was acting kind of uncomfortable around her.
There was a bunch of activity with him starting his truck, then her starting her car, then some engine revving on both their parts as Shooter instructed her in short, clipped sentences what to do next. Eventually her engine was running, though she didn’t dare say purring, because with her crappy car, it was more like stuttering.
“You going straight home?” Shooter stood, hands on hips in front of her as the engine continued to run.
He was tall compared to her, especially when he was in boots and she in the flat nurse’s shoes she wore for her shift. Ellen had to look up to speak to him.
“Yeah.”
Shooter nodded once. “Good. If it’s the alternator, the battery’s not going to charge while you’re driving and you’ll just have a dead battery when you try to start her up again.”
“Great.” Ellen let out a frustrated breath. She didn’t know anything about alternators but she sure knew she wasn’t going to risk stopping anywhere—not even to fuel up—if it meant getting stuck again in the middle of the night.
He knocked his hat back a smidge and she could see his eyes and just a bit of the wavy dark hair that was long enough to fall over his forehead beneath the brim. “You working tomorrow?”
“No. It’s my day off.” One good thing about working nights, she had days off. But besides that, tomorrow she had the entire day and night off.
He nodded. “Good, I’ll come over and take a look at it for you.”
“Really? You’d do that?” If Shooter could fix it, that could save her a fortune in mechanic’s bills.
“Yes.” Shaking his head, Shooter expelled a burst of air. “Why do you sound so shocked? I can be a nice guy, you know.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you can. It’s just that usually you aren’t.”
“Real nice. Thanks.” There was no joking in his voice. Shaking his head, he pivoted toward his truck.
Guilt stole all the fun out of teasing him. He usually was up for a good verbal sparring match. Apparently not tonight.
She took one step forward. “Hey.”
Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“Thank you. You really helped me tonight and I appreciate it.” No joking, no sarcasm. She hoped her tone told him she was sincere.
He turned back to face her and nodded. “You’re welcome. See you in the morning.”
Ellen cringed. Morning was only a few hours away and she usually liked to sleep in after working the late shift. “Can we make it more like noon-ish?”
Shooter let out a short laugh. “Leave your keys out before you go to bed tonight. Wes and I can work on it while you’re sleeping.”
“All right. Thank you. I mean that.”
“It’s not a problem. Anytime. Besides, I want to be there for Wes’s lecture about how you shouldn’t have bought this car. I always enjoy those.” He smiled and it reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling them in the corners. Walking to the back of his big truck, he stashed the cables he’d disconnected.
Ellen was starting to believe he’d actually meant it when he’d said he didn’t mind helping her out. As a friend, he was proving he wasn’t such a bad guy after all, but she still wouldn’t date him if her life depended on it. Not with his insanely good looks that drew women like flies to manure, and his reputation as a ladies’ man who liked to rack up the conquests while going for quantity over quality.
Though given Shooter’s help tonight, Ellen would have to be a little less hard on Wes for his choice in best friends. Or maybe not. Teasing her brother provided far too much amusement to give it up.
Chapter Two
“That should do it.” Shooter wiped his hands on the rag and then slammed the hood of Ellen’s car.
“I hope so. I told her not to buy this damn thing.” Wes shook his head while bending to open the lid of the cooler on the ground next to the car. He pulled out two longneck bottles and handed one to Shooter. “Thanks for helping me with this.”
“No problem. Anything for free beer.” Shooter grabbed the icy bottle and popped the top. He took a long swallow of the cold foam. It had taken them all day to check and then change the alternator in Ellen’s car, but when she’d finally woken up, she’d taken Wes’s truck and gone out to buy them a twelve-pack of beer as a thank you.
“Yeah, well, I’d rather pay for beer and not have to stand out here in the heat all day fixing a vehicle I warned her not to buy in the first place.” Wes sported an uncharacteristic bad-natured frown.
“What’s up with you?” Shooter eyed his friend suspiciously. Hanging out with a buddy tinkering on a car while sharing some cold brew sounded like the perfect way to spend a weekend day to Shooter. Why was Wes so cranky about it?
Wes shrugged. “I just thought I could spend the afternoon with Maryann, but this took all day.”
Ah, and there it was. The truth. Wes would rather be with his girl than his best buddy. Having no response to that, at least not a nice one his saintly mother would approve of, Shooter drew another long swallow of beer and kept his opinion and comments to himself.
Ellen chose that moment to come strolling outside in the tiniest top he’d ever seen her wear, just as he was in mid swallow. Shooter coughed, choking on the bubbles that had been cascading down his throat when he’d gotten a look at Ellen and her exposed assets.
“You all right?” Wes slapped him on the back, which only seemed to make it worse.
When he could breath again, Shooter nodded. “Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe.” Thanks to Ellen’s nipples pointing at him through the thin white tank top. What happened to her usual baggy T-shirt? That he could handle. Not this. Not after his dream last night.
One thought of that dream, coupled with Ellen standing before him in cut-off shorts and her nearly inappropriate top, had Shooter’s dick rising. He fought the urge to physically smack it back down.
Wes scowled. “Yeah, it’s all fixed…for now. But no guarantees what will go wrong next.”
“Nothing else is going to go wrong.” She shot him a frown. “There’s nothing left to break.”
She’d mumbled the last part so low only Shooter, standing close enough to see the soft wash of freckles across the bridge of her nose, could hear. He could tell she hated that car as much as Wes did, but she’d rather keep driving it than admit her brother was right. Shooter liked Ellen’s stubborn streak—as long as it wasn’t leveled against him that was.
He grinned. “If something else goes, we can fix it. These older model American engines aren’t so bad to work on.”
Ellen turned to him. “Thank you, Shooter. I appreciate your generosity.”
Shooter knew better than to let her appreciation go to his head. Ellen shot Wes a very pointed look probably meant to make him feel guilty for not being as enthusiastic and generous about fixing her car as Shooter was. Wes in turn sent Shooter an unhappy scowl.
Great, now he was in the middle of the feud between the siblings. Not a place he wanted to be but at least the distraction worked to help his hard-on subside a bit.
“So, I guess I’ll just get washed up.” Intent on getting out of the line of fire, Shooter headed for the entrance of their building. Ellen and Wes, grabbing the cooler, followed.
“I’m starving. What are we all doing for dinner?” Ellen glanced from Wes to Shooter.
Wes raised a brow at his sister. “Whatever we eat, I should make you buy. Do you know how much money we saved you changing that alternator ourselves?”
A pout settled upon her tempting lips. “Fine. I’ll order a pizza and I’ll pay.”
“Get two. I’m calling Maryann to come over. I haven’t seen her all day. And I want one pizza loaded with sausage.”
Ellen rolled her eyes. “Okay. Whatever.”
Everything was back to normal. Shooter’s hard-on had deflated. Wes and Ellen were bickering. Pizza was on the horizon. Everything was just the way it should be, until Ellen walked in front of him to get the door. Immediately Shooter noticed how just the bottom curve of her ass cheeks were exposed by the short cut-offs she was wearing and then his unruly penis was back at full tilt once again.
Shit. If this was going to be his new reaction to Ellen’s presence, he had better go out and get laid fast. Maybe then his urges would be satisfied and he could get things back to normal around his friend’s sister. The problem was this, sitting in Wes and Ellen’s living room eating pizza and watching TV was not the most conducive place to finding a willing woman to fuck. Not when his best friend was in love with one of the two women in the room, and the other woman was that friend’s sister, whom he was trying to get out of his head.
Shooter sighed. There was probably a party going on somewhere. He should hop in his truck and go cruising around looking. That wasn’t all that fun alone though.
From his chair, Shooter glanced over at Wes and Maryann on the couch, sitting so close their jeans had practically fused together. A few months ago, Wes and he would have been out together at a bar, or a party, or hell even just shooting some hoops. Not anymore.
He dared to glance over at Ellen. Thank God she’d dropped some pizza sauce on her shirt and had changed into something he could handle a little better. At least this tank top wasn’t white and he couldn’t see the outline of her nipples through the thin material and bra. She was still in those shorts though, keeping his dick at half-mast all through dinner.
If he didn’t get some tonight, he’d have to handle things himself. Jerking off in the shower wasn’t his preferred sexual outlet, but at this point he had no choice. It was obvious he was sexually deprived since he couldn’t keep his mind off Ellen.
Bored with the movie and in need of another beer, Shooter hoisted himself out of the recliner. He strolled toward the kitchen past the desk where Ellen was seated in front of her computer. Thankfully, her butt cheeks were currently hidden as she sat in the chair.
As he neared, she glanced up and then scrambled to hide whatever window she was working in on the computer screen. He frowned. That was weird. She was usually on some rodeo chatroom or something, but she never cared who saw.
“What are you up to?” His interest was piqued now. If she’d left the web browser up, he likely wouldn’t have even glanced at it, but her hurrying to close it while looking guilty had him intrigued.
“Nothing. Stop being nosy. Jeez.” She sent him a look so vicious, he took a step back.
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Shooter would have thought that since he and Ellen were the only two people in the room not cooing into each other’s ears, they could at least be civil to one another. A show of solidarity for the single population of the world and all that. Guess not.
Still shaking his head, he went to the fridge and grabbed a beer. “Wes, you need another one?”
“Nah. I’m good, thanks.”
Popping the top, Shooter let out a derogatory snort. Wes didn’t even drink much anymore since Maryann. Maybe he should be thanking God he didn’t have a girlfriend if this was the result. No parties. No getting drunk. Who needed it? Definitely not him.
He plopped back into the reclining chair with enough force for the footrest to pop up, just as Ellen rose from her spot and headed for the bathroom. The door had barely closed behind her when Shooter was up, out of the chair and across the room. At least this may provide some entertainment for the evening.
“What are you doing?” Wes glanced over his shoulder.
“Seeing what Ellen’s up to on here.” Shooter may not be great on the computer but he knew enough to check the bottom of the screen and click the mouse on the Internet window Ellen had reduced to hide it from him.
Up popped a profile page featuring Ellen’s picture and the name “Griffin Girl”. He glanced at the top of the window and—holy shit—it was an online matchmaking site. His eyes popped open wide. Ellen was online looking for a man? Wow.
Before he could truly get a good look, he heard the jiggle of the bathroom doorknob. Shooter somehow managed to shrink the window again and vault over the back of his chair before she appeared in the living room from the hall leading to the bathroom.
Shooter caught Maryann’s eye and held one finger to his lips. She’d probably tell Ellen anyway, being her best friend and all, but it would be so much more fun if Shooter could save this information and use it later against Ellen. Like the next time she was mean to him about bringing home a girl.
He began to formulate clever comebacks about how at least his girls weren’t from the Internet, but he couldn’t concentrate. Ellen was really looking for a boyfriend online? Why? Why didn’t she just pick up a guy at the rodeo or even some dude from the hospital? Bitchy or not, Ellen was hot. She’d have no problem finding a guy, live and in person, without the Internet.
The more Shooter thought about it, the more the idea disturbed him. Ellen really hated him so much she’d date some weirdo—possibly a serial killer—she met online rather than date him? He’d asked her out years ago, when he and Wes had first gotten friendly, and she’d shot him down flat. It was insulting. He was a good-looking guy. Nice too. Hell, hadn’t he fixed her car today and jumpstarted her in the middle of the night?
A frown settled over his brow. He couldn’t even concentrate on the movie, not that the flick had been all that riveting before his discovery about Ellen’s online search. Shooter downed the last of his beer and stood. “I’m heading out.”
Maryann frowned up at him. “Already?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, you know, early morning tomorrow.”
Not exactly a lie. He did have to be at the construction site early, and he always stopped by the barn where he boarded his horse on the way to work, but Shooter wasn’t going home to go to bed. There was something else he had to do first.
“All right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Wes nodded in his direction.
“Yep. Night.” Shooter sent a general goodnight to the group, pointedly not singling out Ellen, who he was rushing home to stalk on that dating website—just to make sure it was safe for her to be on there, of course. What kind of friend would he be if he let his best friend’s sister get murdered or molested by some whacko she met online?
Luckily, Shooter lived fairly close to Wes and Ellen’s apartment. He was skidding into his parking space in less than ten minutes. He sprinted up the stairs to his apartment two at a time, and then was tapping his foot impatiently while the laptop took forever to boot up. Maybe if he turned the damn thing on more than once every two weeks it wouldn’t load a million updates when he did try to get online.
Finally, the computer cooperated and allowed him to open an Internet browser and type in the web address of the matchmaking site. Even just typing the URL made him frown. Ellen. On an online dating site when there were tons of guys right here in town interested in her. Shooter was sitting right there in the same room with her most nights. If she just wanted a guy, then why not him?
He was sure she wouldn’t have the same reserves he had about dating a friend’s sister. Ellen wouldn’t worry that Shooter was Wes’s best friend. In fact, if dating him would piss Wes off, all the better in Ellen’s mind. That was the kind of relationship the siblings had. They loved each other, but they also loved to fight.
The damn site wouldn't let him see a thing until he signed up for his own account. Figures. That’s how they roped you into this shit. With a scowl securely planted on his face, Shooter began typing in the information—just what was required and nothing more—dammit. It came time for him to choose a user name and he nearly typed in Shooter. Then he thought better of it. If he was going to spy on what was happening with Ellen, he needed some cover. It took him awhile to come up with a good name. Finally he settled on Buddy since he was Wes’s buddy and that was the only reason he was doing this. To help out a buddy’s sister. Yup.