Burning Desire

by Marie Harte

  “What’s wrong with my skirt?”

  “Don’t look at me. Look at the pitch.”

  The ball shot out of the machine and flew right by her.

  “Strike one.” Tex laughed at her angry face. “The only thing wrong with your skirt is that it shows your legs. Your very long, very smooth legs.” He sighed. “And on that note, I should stop talking. This is a fun date. With our clothes on.”

  Two teenage boys walking by overheard and glanced at Bree, then at Tex.

  “Guy has no game,” one muttered to the other as they passed.

  Tex shook his head. “He’s not wrong.”

  Bree blushed. “Would you keep it down?”

  He glanced down at himself. “I’m trying, okay?”

  “Not that…just…never mind.” He was making her laugh despite her embarrassment. And it made her feel better that he still desired her as much as she wanted him.

  They each took turns batting, and she’d managed to really smack the ball a few times. Tex, of course, hit home run after home run according to the digital scorekeeper.

  “Do you come here to practice on your days off?” she asked, suspicious.

  He laughed. “No. But I’ve always been good at baseball. I was an athlete back in the day.”

  “And now.”

  “Kind of. I do like playing in our county league. You should see us play soccer. It’s brutal, like a death match with a ball. Come see us sometime. We’re the Burning Embers.”

  “Lovely.”

  He grinned and bought them sodas to go with their cheesy nachos. They ate inside the facility, overlooking the indoor bowling alley. The fun center also had bumper cars and miniature golf.

  “So, do I get the whole treatment?” she asked. “Bowling? Golf? Bumper cars?”

  “We’ll see. Depends on how many of my questions you answer correctly.”

  “Oh, a quiz. How fun.”

  “Question one: How do I feel about music?”

  “The questions are about you?”

  “No, you don’t get to ask them, I do.”

  “Well, hmm. You like to listen to country music in the truck. And I’ve heard you singing under your breath. I think maybe when no one’s with you, you sing along to the radio.”

  “Good answer. Okay, you win a round of miniature golf.”

  “Yay, I win.” She clapped like a child and saw him try to hide a laugh. “Next.”

  “Question two: Am I a cat person or a dog person?”

  “Both. You love animals. And you love people. In fact, I’d put you as an extrovert.”

  He blinked. “Ah, yes. Good. And you get extra credit. After golf, we’ll hit the arcade.”

  She made gave an exaggerated fist pump. “Yes. That’s what I was hoping to score. Okay, my turn.”

  “What do I win if I guess right?” The expression on his face, especially when his gaze moved from her eyes to her lips and stayed there, told her exactly what he wanted.

  “Tex, behave.”

  “Aw, shucks.”

  She laughed. “My question number one is: True or false? I am afraid of clowns, gum, and spiders.”

  “Oh, that’s a tough one.” He studied her, his eyes clear, his lips curled. “I’m going to go with false. Clowns and spiders, sure, but gum?”

  “You are correct. And you are wrong. Ha! You forfeit a point.”

  “Wait. You’re afraid of gum?”

  “I had a bad incident in second grade. Got gum in my hair and had a hideous haircut because of it. It left lasting scars.” She ran her hands through her hair to remind herself she had length.

  He laughed. “Okay, no gum. Not even to chew, ever?”

  “Nope. I don’t do gum and don’t like people chewing it near me. I know, weird. Oh, but I do hate clowns. Spiders, however, I have no problem with.”

  “Wow. A gal who likes spiders. How about that?”

  “Stereotype much?”

  “Quit harrassin’ me. What’s the next question?” He grabbed some nachos and chowed down. But he didn’t make a pig of himself and made sure not to take more unless she took some as well. Always the gentleman…

  “Question two: What is my least favorite food?”

  “Aw, come on. These are hard questions.”

  “Suck it up. Guess.”

  “Um, well, how about onions? Or liver? Maybe brussels sprouts?”

  “Wrong. That’s two points you’re in the hole for. I hate pudding, Jell-O, and anything mushy. I can’t stand the texture.”

  “Seriously? No mashed potatoes? No peanut butter?”

  “Nope and nope.”

  He stared at her, his eyes wide. “Are you even human?”

  She laughed. “What about you?”

  “I like all food, can’t you tell?” He rubbed his stomach. “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Pink—and don’t say a thing about girls liking pink.”

  “Not a word. I like pink too. But I like blue best.”

  “Favorite animal?”

  “Probably dogs or horses. I like cats too, but they seem kinda evil to me.” He studied her. “I bet you love cats.”

  “I do.” She shrugged. “What can I say? I love their predatory nature.”

  “Says the woman who talks about dismemberment and my duffel bag—that held bats, might I remind you.”

  “So sensitive. I didn’t accuse you of being a killer. I just asked if maybe you had leanings that way.”

  Tex finished his beer. “You scare me a little.”

  “Good, just what I was going for.”

  “Another important question: How competitive are you?”

  Bree showed him by kicking his ass at miniature golf, and she talked a lot of smack while doing it. After they returned the putters, she apologized. “Sorry. My dad taught me how to play a few sports, and he instilled a nasty competitive streak.”

  “Blaming your dad for that, huh?” Tex walked with her back inside toward the arcade. Her body hummed, and she subtly inched closer, loving the heat he generated. “Well, then, sweetcakes, prepare to eat up what you just dished out.”

  Tex then proceeded to destroy her at Donkey Kong, Space Invaders, and Frogger.

  “Fine. You win.” Bree didn’t like losing. “But I totally rule at Ms. Pac-Man.”

  “Double or nothing?”

  “On what, exactly? You lost two points from the quiz, and I think you cried when I sank my ball under the windmill.”

  “I had a bug in my eye,” he grumbled, but she could see his amusement. “I don’t know what to think about this killer side to you, Bree. It’s…interesting.”

  “I hope it’s still interesting when I mop the floor with you and Blinky.”

  “Huh?”

  “He’s the red one.”

  They found the Ms. Pac-Man machine empty and stood by it while Tex forked over the change for the game. “Ladies first,” he said with a flourish. “That you know the names of Pac-Man’s ghosts—”

  “Ms. Pac-Man,” she corrected as she chased energy pellets and a bouncing cherry.

  “—disturbs me. I can’t believe you know their names.”

  “I can’t believe you don’t.”

  The game surprised her by being close. Bree normally crushed the competition. When younger, she’d been addicted to the game, and as she’d gotten older, she still cherished remembrances of her mother taking her to the old-fashioned arcade downtown, which unfortunately had become a shoe store a few years ago.

  “Finally. I win.” She turned, exhilarated by her victory, and found herself kissed breathless.

  “Sorry, but you’re irresistible when you’re gloating.” Tex sighed and kissed her once more. “Okay, I’m done.”

  I’m not. She cleared her throat. “Well then. Time for
you to pay up.”

  “Yeah?” He smiled. “I’m happy to do whatever you want, darlin’. As fast or slow as you need…”

  ***

  “What the heck kind of pay-up is this?” An hour later, standing in Bree’s garage, Tex glared at the busted lawn mower sitting near her barely used toolkit. “This is evil, even for you.”

  “Not my fault you assumed I’d want you to sex me up.”

  “But…” He looked at her. Then he sighed. “Fine. But I think you’re missing out on some of my greatest talents.”

  “I’m not going to ask.” She wanted to. Badly. But tonight had been so much fun, and they’d spent it getting to know each other outside a bed. She felt so proud of herself for resisting temptation. “Can you come back tomorrow to fix it? I don’t want to ruin your Saturday, but my lawn is getting out of control.”

  “Being with you isn’t ruining anything.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and regarded her with a frank gaze. “I liked being with you tonight. I learned a lot. Like the fact that you cheat at mini golf.”

  “I do not.”

  “And you’re a sore winner. It’s kind of cute how you rub my nose in it, so angry-like. Especially when you know I could carry you like a human duffel bag with only one hand.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” She frowned. She couldn’t help her size compared to his.

  “See? That bit of fire in you. It’s sexy. And cute. And you’re gettin’ madder.” He chuckled. “Easy, Killer. I’ll swing by tomorrow to fix your damn mower. What time?”

  Gratified by the “Killer” reference, she let out a little breath. “Would eleven be okay? I want to sleep in tomorrow. And I’m sure you do too.”

  “Sounds good.” He followed her from the garage out to his truck in the driveway. “So, um, are you busy tomorrow? After I fix your mower? You probably are.”

  “Not really, no.” She should have made up something, to seem like she had a super exciting life outside of work. But all she could think about was the possibility of spending more time with Tex. She liked him. He made her laugh, and they could talk about anything, agreeing or arguing, and she felt energized and thoughtful after.

  “Maybe we could hang out or something. And that’s not a sly way to ask for sex,” he said before she could accuse him of that. “I like spending time with you.”

  She blushed. “Me too.”

  He took a step closer to her. “Can I hug you good night?”

  “No kiss?” she teased.

  He looked serious. “Not if you want to keep your clothes on. I don’t have that much willpower.”

  “Oh.” She smiled and held out her arms.

  He hugged her off her feet, and his body felt like a slab of granite. He was so strong.

  “You smell good.” He groaned and set her down. “I’d better go before I do something I won’t regret but you probably will.” He got in his truck, waved, and left.

  Bree stared until his lights faded and went back inside. After closing the garage, she got into her pajamas and flicked through the channels on cable and streaming on the web, not seeing anything of interest despite hundreds of options. Though it wouldn’t have mattered if she had, her mind full of Tex McGovern. She really, really liked him.

  Personality, brains, looks—he had it all. Now if she could just figure out if she could trust him. And she had no idea how to gauge that.

  With a sigh, she turned off the TV and headed for a glass of wine and a bath instead. That would have to do until tomorrow.

  When she’d have Tex all to herself. She bathed and plotted. And couldn’t wait to put her devious plan into action.

  ***

  Tex picked up Bubbles from Oscar and Gerty’s place, went home to let her out for a few tosses of the ball, then locked up the house and went straight into a cold shower.

  He froze his nuts off for a good minute, seeing how much he could take.

  But when he went to bed, he stared down at a tentpole in his shorts.

  Swearing, he left the bed—because he couldn’t do what he needed to with Bubbles staring at him—and hid himself in the bathroom in the dark. The lights off, the house quiet, he let himself imagine Bree naked, seeing those full breasts with their tight little nipples, the hollow in her belly, the soft, rounded curves of her waist and ass. He remembered how it had felt to plunge into her wet heat, to feel her coming around him and see her face as she lost herself in his arms.

  It took him no time to get off, and after cleaning up, he went back to bed and wondered why a simple choice of Bree or his career had suddenly grown complicated.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tex showed up at Bree’s place at eleven with Bubbles by his side and his own tool kit at hand, determined to pay off his debt, no matter how pedestrian the challenge.

  When she opened the door, her expression broke into a delighted grin. For Bubbles. “Hey, sweetie, come here. Oh, and come on in, Tex.”

  Bubbles grinned and went right in, leaving Tex to fend for himself. He followed and closed the door behind him. “Why, thanks for the warm welcome, Bree.”

  She snickered and knelt to give Bubbles a good pet. When she straightened, she looked him in the eye. “You fix my lawn mower, we’re even. And I promise not to tell anyone you cried when I beat you.”

  “For fuck’s sake, it was a bug.”

  “So you say.” She sniffed and turned to lead Bubbles outside into a perfect, late-June morning. She had a patio table and a few chairs accessorized with throw pillows and a matching umbrella. The small yard had enough space to keep Bubbles happy under the sun that drifted in and out of the clouds. Birds chirped and insects buzzed. It was like a movie set of what a summer day should feel like.

  “Love those shorts,” he commented, his gaze on her shapely legs, trying to pretend her skimpy tank top didn’t showcase her breasts to perfection.

  “I like yours too.” She gave him a heated once-over that predictably affected a certain part of him. “You’re so…athletic. And big.”

  “Stop it, you little witch. It’s not fair. I’m hard and you can tell. Only way I know if you like me is if your nipples get hard. Which, thank God, they are.” He took a step in her direction, and she held up a hand.

  “Stop right there, mister. Lawn mower first.”

  “First?”

  Her lips twitched. “No guarantee of anything, but maybe, just maybe, I’ll be so impressed with your work, I might have to offer a more substantial reward.”

  “Shit. What else you need fixed? Your fridge? Car? Air conditioner? I’m your man.”

  She blinked. “You can fix those?”

  “Honey, I grew up on a ranch in Texas. My daddy didn’t believe in hiring folks when he had big, strapping sons to do ranch work.” He grinned. “Of course I can fix stuff.”

  “So, you’re like a handyman, a fireman, and a hunk all rolled up into one human being?”

  “Hunk. Yep. That’s me.”

  “Hold on.” She closed her eyes, parted her lips, and made soft, breathy sounds.

  He froze in place. She used that face when she climaxed.

  “Bree?”

  She wiped her expression and looked back at him. “Sorry. I just had a mini-orgasm. I’m good now. Get to work.” She petted Bubbles before moving to the caddy of yard tools near her garden. The dog looked from Bree to him and followed Bree outside.

  Tex both laughed and cursed the woman under his breath then set out to fix her mower.

  It took some doing, but he got it cleaned up and working again. Her garage retained heat, and the weather had warmed, which made him hot enough to take off his shirt, leaving him in athletic shorts and sandals. He’d also gotten grease all over his hands.

  He turned to go inside and saw Bree watching him, her expression inscrutable.

  “It’s fixed.”


  “Can you show me?”

  He nodded and wheeled the mower outside around the house to her backyard. He showed her the issue and started the lawn mower for her, then mowed a small strip, which showed how much she’d really needed it fixed. The grass around it looked impossibly high.

  Bubbles hid in the house.

  “Damn. Bubbles.” He left Bree to find the dog lying down in the living room, asleep. “So much for being afraid.”

  “Stop it right there.”

  He froze at the command in Bree’s voice.

  “Your hands are dirty.”

  “I was working with greasy parts.” He turned to see her crooking her finger at him.

  “Come with me, cowboy.”

  She had a look on her face he couldn’t read, but his body tightened up when he got a good look at her. Seeing Bree in shorts and a tank, now without a damn bra—he noticed—was like walking barefoot over hot coals to get to heaven. He’d do it and like it no matter how much it hurt.

  He rose and followed her into the bathroom. “Shoot. I left my shirt in the garage.”

  She put his hands in the sink, took some soap, and lathered his fingers and palms, standing so close, she had to see him poking into the washstand. And her hands… She was sliding her hands over his, tugging and stroking his fingers until he couldn’t contain his groan of pleasure.

  “Bree, honey, I’m sorry, but you—” He froze when her hands ran over his shorts and down to cup his balls. He rinsed off and dried in hurry.

  “I think you deserve a reward for such a good job.” She turned him so that his tailbone rested against the sink.

  He stared down at her in awe. “Holy fuck, this is like every porn fantasy I’ve ever had. Except normally I’m the plumber, not the repair man.”

  Her throaty laugh made him even harder. Then she let go of him to grab one of his hands and put it on her breast. He felt hard nipples, and the sight of her full breasts unencumbered by a bra really got his motor running.

  “I’m hot. Are you hot?” she asked, running a hand down his chest and over his erection barely constrained by his shorts.

  He had to clear his throat to answer. “Yeah.”

  She guided his hands to the bottom of her tank top and lifted her arms.