by Dee Tenorio
“If I were you, then, I’d run a bit faster.”
Amanda Jackman made one hell of a handful.
“Put me down right this second, Cole Engstrom, or I swear I’ll rip your balls off by way of your tonsils.”
Oh sure, that inspired a man to let go. “Anyone ever tell you that your brothers have been a bad influence on you?”
She kicked his inner thigh with her sharp heel almost hard enough to make him drop her. “My judo instructor has mentioned it a few dozen times.”
“Judo?” He had just enough time to say the word before she stomped on his foot, rammed her elbow into his ribs and then tossed him out from behind her like a rag doll.
She was smirking, her arms crossed, before he’d even stopped sliding on the wood floor. “He says I have aggression issues.”
Cole might have agreed with the teacher if Amanda hadn’t forgotten to make sure her robe was closed. Suddenly, he didn’t have to guess why Billy Anderson had been sprawled on his back and happy as a pig in shit about it. Mile-long legs, golden skin visible everywhere and what looked like a peacock feather licking up from the shadowy space between her slim thighs.
So much for all those self-admonishing lectures he’d given himself before dropping by this morning. Not to mention all of last night, as he’d kicked his own ass for not telling her the truth right away. Warnings not to let Locke’s edict change how he saw Amanda. Or rather, treated her. He’d learned a long time ago that trying to ignore her beauty or her attractiveness simply wasn’t possible. That was why he’d put all his safeguards in place, so he wouldn’t be tempted to treat her like a woman he could…
Well, that was the problem in a nutshell. He hadn’t ever figured out what it was exactly he was so tempted to want from her. Friendship? They had that. She seemed to think it was contingent on his relationship with the elder twins for some inexplicable reason, but they had it. In many ways, it was a better friendship than he had with the twins. The boys he could hang out with, do dumb things with and generally not feel any pressure to be anything but what he was. They didn’t care if he tuned them out or called them assholes. They called him worse all the time. But Amanda kept him on his toes. She mocked him ruthlessly when she wanted to, and he was free to return the favor. They had actual conversations, sometimes in other languages. About anything. They could team up and make the other brothers beg for mercy when they felt like it. Or they could just sit and not talk at all.
But times like this, he knew friendship just didn’t cover what she made him crave.
Like last night, only somehow impossibly worse, what he wanted was so clear it thundered in his ears as his blood abandoned his brain and shuttled to his cock at a speed worthy of a pneumatic pump.
Call him a pig and he wouldn’t argue, because he did nothing to stop his gaze from tracing up her smooth belly to the black bra peeking out from under her forearms. By the time he got to her face, the anger was slowly leaching from her expression. Replaced, bit by bit, by what had to be embarrassment.
Except she wasn’t closing her robe.
Unfortunately, parts south of his equator were already expressing their approval. Her cool gaze darted from his face to his zipper, brows rising with interest. Not surprise. Interest.
Dammit!
He rolled onto his knees, hand on the couch to help himself back to his feet, only he didn’t just grab the couch cushion. Oh no, he couldn’t be that lucky. Instead, his hand tangled into a cloud of silk. Horror dawned as he finally took a look around her living room.
Bras and panties. Everywhere.
Every color. Styles that didn’t look like they’d stay on without glue. Lacy, stringy, satiny, God help him, some of them were fluffy. They covered the couch, littered the chair, hung over the back of the free-standing, full-length mirror. Nowhere was safe to look. Or touch. He dropped the handful tangled in his fingers and watched it float down to the couch.
“Uh…what’s going on in here, Amanda?”
“This? Oh, I was just getting ready for another unsuspecting delivery man to become my unwilling sex slave. Why do you ask?”
Unwilling, his ass. If Billy had retained use of his legs, the twerp would be in here right now, begging to lick the dust off her feet.
He was certainly considering it.
The nicotine itch in his throat begged for mercy. To think, only two days ago, he’d thought he was having a pretty good week. Work was progressing nicely on his new point of sale program. The elder twins had finally agreed to stop trying to kill him with extra free-weight sessions. And he’d had absolutely no idea Amanda Jackman’s bellybutton was pierced.
Cole risked a glance at her in the mirror. Her eyes still flashed, a sexy pink flush to her cheeks, and yep, that robe was still hanging open, exposing the tiny blue-green gem dangling from a shiny silver chain. Tendrils of the peacock feathers fluttered up toward it, practically chanting “nah-nah nah-nah-nah!” just to torture him.
He closed his eyes and counted a few precious seconds. This was definitely one of those moments when a man was better off not saying a damn thing.
It took to the count of fifteen before Amanda gave an aggrieved sigh and he heard the swish of material—hopefully that last swish was her securing the belt on her robe. “What are you doing here, Cole? Did my brother send you over too?”
Talk about going from the kettle to the cauldron. “Er, not…exactly.”
“Well you go on back and tell Locke that I’ll be the one replacing my car, not him.”
“I don’t think my going to tell Locke anything is a good idea.” Especially since he was pretty sure he’d have a hard-on for the rest of his life thanks to her body being permanently seared onto his retinas.
Amanda snapped as if she’d just remembered something. “Oh, that’s right. Locke scares you. Forget I said anything.”
His eyes popped open, and he spun to see her already striding out of the living room. He followed her, pride twitching. “Scared is a little strong of a word.”
Especially since he’d been yelling in the behemoth’s face just last night on her behalf. Not that he could bring that up just yet.
“Do you prefer terrified?” She spun to ask sweetly, “Quaking in your boots? How about—”
Frustration had him snapping at her. “How about you stop acting like a spoiled brat?”
She jerked, eyes wide and mouth still open. Okay, he’d shocked her again, but really, how many buttons did she think he was going to let her push?
“Your brother cares about you. He cares about all of you. I’m not saying he’s not a ham-fisted overlord sometimes, but at least he cares enough to try. You could do a hell of a lot worse.” He certainly had. His one blessing where his parents were concerned was that they had been smart enough to stop at one kid they’d have to grind into the earth with the weight of their endless disaster of a marriage. “Do you think you could stop treating everyone like they’re out to get you just because they ask a damned question?”
The wind was definitely out of her sails now. She didn’t sag, exactly, but the righteous indignation had definitely shrunk her a bit on its way out. Finally she sighed, wrapping her arms around herself and looking everywhere but at him. A few seconds later, the Amanda he knew was finally back in control, her expression the tiniest bit sheepish.
“Bitch flag got a little high up the pole again, huh?”
“You think?” Cole took his hands off his hips, dropping a sigh of his own. He scrubbed at his forehead with his hand. It wasn’t exactly her fault, though. Getting caught bare-assed by a kid and ogled by someone she considered a friend was probably not her idea of a good time. “I did deserve it a little, staring at you like that.”
“Yeah, well”—she tugged the closed robe tighter around her body— “I’ve seen my brothers lose their minds often enough when they think they’re going to see a boob. I can’t hold it against you.”
If only she would. “Sure you can. I’m a grown man, I should be able to han
dle a woman in…feathers…without acting like an ass.”
A rueful grin turned up one corner of her mouth. “You weren’t an ass, Cole. I guess I just never knew feathers had such an effect on otherwise oblivious males.”
She only thought that because she wasn’t a mind reader. He smiled back at her. “It wasn’t just the feathers, Mandy.”
Her smile melted. “Don’t.” She barely uttered the word, turning to her cabinets almost fast enough to hide the grimace on her face.
“Don’t what?” He wanted to take those steps to where she stood, her hands on the kitchen counter, and turn her back around, but that would mean putting his hands on her. It wouldn’t be his smartest move, and considering the last few days, he could only imagine how bad a destination that decision could lead him to.
Married.
Dead.
Married, then dead.
No, he was better off way over here on his side of the kitchen, even if it did make him more of an asshole than usual.
It took long seconds for her to answer, even then only after she cleared her throat. “Don’t call me Mandy. You’ve always called me Amanda.”
Cole frowned. He’d never really given it much thought either way. Her brothers called her Mandy. It had always hit him as a leftover from her baby years, but still something filled with affection. Maybe it was too personal.
That thought stung for some reason. “Sorry about that.”
“No!” She spun, looking slightly panicked before clearing her throat and schooling her features back into calm smoothness. “I mean, you don’t have to be sorry, it’s just… I like being called Amanda.”
“Oh.”
They stared at each other, an awkwardness between them he couldn’t ever remember feeling. Or maybe it was awareness, he wasn’t quite sure. Him being way too aware that all she had on under that robe were a couple of strategically placed pieces of bird-fluff and her likely too aware of the fact he was still thinking about each and every one of them.
He coughed, trying to find his way back to why he’d come there. It certainly hadn’t been to save Billy Anderson from an ass-kicking or get his own thrown halfway across a room.
“So what are you planning to do about…” He waved his hand toward the windows in the living room and in the general direction of the blue sedan on the street.
Her gaze followed his gesture, coming back to his face tinged with confusion. “With Billy? I don’t think there’s anything I can do about him. He’s probably told half the town by now that he’s seen my ass.”
And here comes the choking again.
Amanda leaned back against her counter, arms crossed over her breasts again, her mouth in an amused smirk, waiting for him to get control of his oxygen.
“Do I want to know?” he finally asked.
“Apparently, Billy’s never seen a woman in a thong before.”
“Probably not a flesh-and-blood one, no.” Especially not one with flesh like Amanda’s. Cole’s mouth watering didn’t help that swallowing-malfunction problem. “I meant about your car?”
“What about it?”
“Well, if you’re not going to take the one Locke had sent over, maybe you should do what you said and get one yourself. You need a car.”
Judging by the rapid blinks, the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “I-I’ve never bought anything that big before.”
“What about this house? This was a pretty big purchase.”
“Yeah, and look how well that went. Something in it breaks just about every day. Besides, I got this place at a foreclosure sale after Beenie Mason died without any family to take it over. I just had to pay what was left on Beenie’s mortgage and since she lived here for thirty years, that was pretty much down to nothing. Now it’s just taxes. And repairs,” she added.
“Buying a car is a lot like buying smaller things. Just takes longer, and you’ll have to listen to a sales guy give you a pitch. As long as you know what you need, how much you can afford and you’re not the kind to let people tell you what you’re thinking—I don’t see any problems for you in that department—you should be fine. Got any money put away?”
She nodded. Of course she did. Locke probably wouldn’t have taken a dime from her while she was living in the family house.
“That’ll help. A bigger down payment means smaller monthly payments. How’s your credit?”
For a second, he wondered if he’d smacked her in the head with a two-by-four. Okay, he no longer felt bad for lying to Locke or Amanda. The truth was just going to have to wait a little longer. She needed a car, and if he spilled what was going on now, she’d go right back into rampage mode. That wouldn’t do either of them any good. Not when she had no sense of how to get started with this independence thing, and clearly no one else was going to show her.
Tonight, when she’d safely acquired her car and wouldn’t shoot herself in the foot just to spite Locke. She’d have the experience of having tackled something important on her own, which was something he hadn’t realized she was lacking. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of what had happened the day before when he’d asked her to hang out with him. He still hadn’t gotten that hurt look on her face out of his mind. That memory alone settled the matter. Success first. Then truth.
“How about this?” he prefaced, ignoring the knot in his gut at putting off the revelation. “You get dressed and I’ll go with you to a few dealerships. See if there’s anything out there you like. If you do, I’ll be on hand if you have any questions.”
She looked torn for all of two seconds. “You’re not going to tell me what I should get and why?”
“Will I be driving it?”
“No.”
He really liked how viciously she replied to that question. “Then I don’t see why I’d get a say. I can point out a few cars you’ll want to avoid, though.”
“Like which ones?” Oh, definitely intrigued. Better yet, they could go out like friends. With their clothes on. And no chance for him to accidentally peel her out of that robe.
“How about anything older than either of us?”
She grinned, and he knew he had her.
Chapter Four
Seven hours to buy a car. A used car. Not terribly used, but that didn’t stop the time from passing. Seven. Whole. Hours.
Amanda was ready to beg one of the salesmen on the lot to just run her over already. How long could it possibly take to say yes or no?
And the hours, they had not been kind. Nerves ate at her. If they said no, she would have to take the car Locke had sent over. Just the thought had her stomach churning. Even in a town as small as Rancho del Cielo, you had to have a car. Or maybe that should be especially in town as small as RDC.
It was growing, most definitely. It had more than blown up in the last five years, going from a hole-in-the-wall of a town with only about a thousand people to one with nigh on five thousand. For the first time in her life, there were people in the grocery store she’d never met. Businesses were popping up left and right, and if her cousin Spencer the brainiac science teacher could be believed, the school district was beyond max capacity. But for the most part, people still had to go into the larger towns for their supplies and preferences. Or privacy. Particularly privacy. That was a commodity in rare supply in RDC.
Which made seven hours a long time to watch the doors and wait for her brothers to stomp in and ask her what the hell she thought she was doing in a Poway dealership buying a car when there was a perfectly good one sitting outside her house, untouched.
So far, not a single Jackman male had made an appearance. All thanks to the Engstrom one sitting next to her in his ancient-looking black concert T-shirt and jeans. Cole looked as comfy in the barely-padded plastic chair as he did on a couch playing X-Box with her brothers. One booted foot up on his knee, playing with his phone like it held state secrets instead of a pile of colorful fruit getting slashed by the stroke of his fingertip.
He was a consummate gadget freak. One of the be
nefits of being a programmer, he often told her, was that he could make really good money doing something he’d do anyway for free. What time he spent not plugged into a computer, he usually spent playing games or with the latest electronic wonder before getting bored a few months later and dumping it off on her ridiculously grateful brothers. She was more of a tactile person, loving fabrics and textures and making things she could touch. But she envied him so much in that moment. He was happily distracted.
She was not.
No gadgets. No paper, even, not that she had any idea what she might have scribbled if she did. All she could do was think. Even that didn’t go well because, aside from the inanity of her own thoughts, sales people of all kinds plied her with lemonades and sodas, cookies and vending machine-sized bags of chips, none of which she actually wanted. Add in the fact that this lot’s showroom was over air-conditioned, which turned her nipples into frightening little knots no one could miss, and misery had been hers.
Once he’d heard her chattering teeth, Cole actually took off his leather jacket—which smelled oh-my-God-so-good—and draped it over her shoulders, but it took him at least another twenty minutes to look her in the eye again. So much for wearing a tank top to keep him thinking about how much he liked her skin.
Note to self: Car hunting does not make for a hot date.
It made for anxiety-induced eye twitches, though.
At least every time she was about to jump out of her skin, Cole would nudge her with his elbow and point out something to distract her. The sideways-slipping toupee on an oblivious salesman. A kid surreptitiously stuffing a plastic promotional ball into the gleaming tailpipe of a showcase car. This time, he pointed out a teenager getting her first car—used, like the blue Mini that Amanda was currently waiting to sign over the bulk of her savings to make her own. The girl had just been presented an aged sedan, gleaming until it almost looked new, but you’d think it was a Ferrari given how the girl was jumping and screaming after her blushing father handed her the keys.
Amanda smiled before turning from the spectacle, but her bittersweet emotions must have shown through.