From his squat, he rolled onto one knee and really attacked the hole. “What’s this for anyway?”
“A goat.”
He stared up at her. “You have a goat? Why?”
“I don’t have him yet.” She looked around the yard. The filthy shoe was lying in the middle of a gravel path, but Milo had disappeared. That goat had the uncanny ability to hide from everyone but her. Sometimes she wondered if she imagined him. “I hear goats make good pets. They’re intelligent.” Devious, more like. “Friendly.” More obnoxious, really. “And you can use them for milk and wool.” Neither of which Milo would be producing. But how else could she explain her acquisition? She was taking in a perfectly useless goat just so he wouldn’t eat her garden.
David opened his mouth, and then closed it.
Connie shifted from one foot to the other. “Don’t you like goats?”
“I had goat stew once. It was okay.”
It was Connie’s turn to stare. Milo stew? That was just sick.
David turned back to the hole, the corners of his lips edging up.
“That’s not funny.”
He shrugged and kept digging.
Connie walked to her house, draping his coat over her porch railing, and poured them both a glass of ice tea. She went back out and sat on her steps, sipping her drink and watching him work.
His shirt stretched tight across his strong back, his slacks cupping one fine ass. He went to the other hole she’d started working on, and dug that out, too. He worked until his shirt became damp, sweat making it cling to him through the undershirt he wore. Connie warmed up right along with him.
Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. Another text from Marisol: I’m glad to hear you’re leaning our way. Why don’t you come out to Detroit and we can talk more about it? I’ll show you what a great town Motor City is.
Connie picked at her nail. Maybe she shouldn’t have sent the woman a message saying she was liking the idea of a move more and more. But her father had taken over her house, watching her TV until early in the morning, leaving dirty dishes in her sink. She had no friends to call to commiserate with. And the man currently sweating in her backyard was confusing the hell out of her. All in all, leaving Pineville had seemed like a vacation.
She eyed the holes in the ground. She shouldn’t be building anything in the yard when she was undecided about whether she’d stick around or not. If she tried to sell the house, goat included, would that help or hurt her asking price?
David chucked the spade down. Putting her phone away, Connie stood and brought him his glass of ice tea.
“Thanks.” He chugged it in three swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down the wide column of his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, walked over to her pile of supplies, and toed the roll of fencing. “So what’s the plan here? A square enclosure? How large?”
Connie told him her ideas.
He shook his head. “That’s not big enough. Not for a full-sized goat.” Striding to the first fence post, he paced out from it, at least twice the length of her original estimates. “The pen should come to at least here. You’ll be losing some of your garden though.”
Connie gazed around her backyard and shrugged. It wasn’t much of a garden right now. “That’s fine. How do you know how large a goat pen should be?”
He came back to her, picking up the spade along the way. “It’s amazing what you learn when researching animal shelters.” He stopped in front of her and she could smell sweat, and cologne, and man. The tips of her breasts tingled, and she inhaled deeply.
“If you want, I can also tell you which animals can’t be held within sight, sound, or smelling contact of each other, and the best fake grass materials to use to encourage dogs to crap in a certain location.”
Connie shook her head, wrinkling her nose. “That’s fine. Although I think you just admitted that your design encourages dogs to do their business outside, where, I suspect, you won’t have your air filtration systems in place.”
Hands on his narrow hips, David lifted his chin and looked at the sky.
She nibbled on her lip. “Uh, what are you doing?”
He lowered his head and stared directly into her eyes. “Asking for patience.”
Grabbing the trowel from his hand, she stalked around the house to her tool shed. She turned, only to find David blocking the exit, his hands holding on to the plastic door frame above his head.
“Connie…About the lawsuit. You know everyone has to lose some time, right? It won’t reflect badly on you.”
She folded her arms across her chest and stared at him evenly. “Who says I’m going to lose?”
He looked away. “Never mind,” he muttered. He slapped his hands on the roof, and stepped away from the shed. “I’ll be back tomorrow with additional fencing and some actual tools that will be useful.” He turned for his car.
Connie trotted after him. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“For your pen.”
She stopped stock-still. “You’re going to help me build my pen? Why?”
“Because if you built it, it would fall over in less than a day. Call it a public service.” He stopped at his car door. “Crap. I forgot my coat in your backyard.” He took a step in that direction, but Connie stepped in front of him, her palm pressed to his chest.
“And what will I owe you for this ‘public service’?” David’s chest rose and fell beneath her hand, and she ignored the warmth of it beneath her touch. “I’m not going to throw my case for you because you help me out.”
His chest stopped moving. His face became shuttered, but not before she caught a flash of pain in his eyes. “Understood. Let me know if there is something you need done around the house that will sweeten the pot. I’d love to have an attorney in my pocket.” He stepped back.
Acid churned in her stomach. That had been low, even for her. And David didn’t deserve it. He’d been kind enough to help her out, even after reading her new demands on the defendants. He could separate out business from personal, and she needed to learn how to do the same. Just because he was an adversary in her court case didn’t make him the enemy. And it was time she got over her childhood humiliation.
Stepping forward, she laid a hand on his forearm. He didn’t shrug her off, but his face didn’t lose its blank mask, either. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was uncalled for.” She took a deep breath. “And if you’re still willing to help me out with the pen, I’d like to invite you to dinner tomorrow night. Just as a thank you,” she quickly added. No need for any more confusion. She didn’t want him getting the wrong impression.
He slowly nodded. “I like thank-you dinners. That would be nice.” He grimaced. “But I can’t tomorrow night. I, uh, have other plans.”
“You have a date?” Heat stole onto her cheeks. She stared at the ground, wanting to kick herself. But this was good, his having a date. It kept her from getting the wrong impression, too. She let go of his arm.
“Not a date. I…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m coaching a Little League team and my first practice is tomorrow at four.”
“You’re coaching?” She waited a beat. “You?”
“Yes, me.”
“Children? You’ll be coaching children?” An image of David, wearing his typical suit and frown, surrounded by a horde of energetic kids brought a smile to her lips. They were going to eat him alive.
“I don’t know what’s so damn funny about it.” His lips pressed into a white slash. “I know baseball. The Pineville Panthers need a coach until Lee gets back on his feet. It made sense.”
Her smile grew. “Sure. Perfectly logical.”
“Connie,” he growled in warning.
She burst out in giggles. “I’m sorry.” Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she tried to swallow her amusement. And failed miserably. “It’s just the thought of you, David Carelli, trying to corral fifteen kids…”
That set her off again.
He clenched his jaw so hard it looked like it would break. “There are seventeen kids on the team, and I’ll have you know—” He broke off and eyed the police cruiser that rolled up the drive. “Are you going to need a lawyer?”
“Not funny.” She could make out Officer Jerome Davis behind the wheel. Another man who’d been nice enough to give her a ride home after a night out drinking. His rides always came with warnings about the evils of drinking and driving, something she’d never contemplated, even when she’d been three sheets to the wind. She had Pineville’s one taxi service on speed dial for a reason. But Jerome’s concern for her and others was more than just that of a cop doing his job. He was a sweet man who genuinely cared about the residents of Pineville.
She caught his dark eyes twinkling behind the windshield of the cruiser, saw him scratch at the bronze skin of his jaw. And if she could see him that clearly, he could see just how close she was standing to David. She took a step back. The last thing ‘Crazy Connie’ needed was to be seen cozying up to David Carelli. If she wanted to make amends with this town, being anything other than professional with David wasn’t going to help her situation.
She ignored David’s frown, and stepped forward to greet Jerome. “Hi,” she said as he stepped from his patrol car. “What brings you by?”
He glanced curiously at David, but Jerome was too polite to ask questions. “We received a call about a wild animal in the area. The caller claims he saw either a bear or Bigfoot destroying his cherry trees.”
“Bigfoot?” David’s voice dripped with condescension.
Connie’s mind whirled. Someone must have seen Mrs. Garcia’s Instagram post of her satellite photo, claiming she’d caught Bigfoot on camera. She knew another neighbor who had cherry trees and an interest in the supernatural. “Was it Mr. Jenkins?”
Jerome nodded.
Connie chewed on her bottom lip. Mr. Jenkins tied bows of reflective ribbon around the branches of his trees to keep the birds away. But the shiny material would be just the thing to attract Milo’s attention. Although how he could be mistaken for a bear… “Was there much damage done to the trees?”
Jerome chuckled, and hooked his thumbs in his duty belt. “Oh, yeah. Every branch that had one of those bows on it has been snapped off. And all the developing cherries are gone. Bigfoot was hungry.”
And Milo was dead. First Miss Eugenie’s prized begonias, now Mr. Jenkins’s cherries. The jam he made from those trees was a point of pride for the man. It had won awards at the county fair. Whether it was Bigfoot, bear, or goat, Mr. Jenkins would take down any animal that went after his fruit.
“Well, no bears around here. I’ll let you know if I see one.”
“No Bigfoot sightings, either?” The skin around Jerome’s dark eyes crinkled. “That’s more Pineville PD’s interest. Fish and Wildlife can take care of the bears.”
“No Bigfoot, either,” she said.
“And you, Mr. Carelli?” Jerome crossed his arms over his chest. The humor that was in his eyes for Connie evaporated when he turned to David. “Have you seen anything unusual around here?”
“David is just here to discuss a possible settlement in our case.” A little ball of nerves knotted in her gut. “He stopped by for business and hasn’t had time to see anything, much less a wild animal.”
Both men stared at her.
“Isn’t that right, David?” Her eyes pleaded with him, but why she felt nervous, she didn’t know. David had come out here for business. Nothing more.
“That’s right.” David’s eyes never left hers. “I came out here to discuss the lawsuit.” He turned to Jerome, and the moment his gaze shifted, Connie sagged. “And I haven’t seen any animals, real or imaginary.”
Jerome nodded, his eyes flicking up and down David. He took in the dirt on David’s pants, the sweat on his shirt, and Connie’s stomach sank to her toes. Trying to bullshit a man trained in observation skills wasn’t her best idea. What Jerome thought David was doing, sweaty and disheveled in her yard, Connie could only imagine. “Uh huh. Let me know if Bigfoot shows up,” he told Connie and got back in his car. He backed into a three-point turn and waved out his open window as he drove away.
When she could no longer hear gravel crunching beneath tires, Connie turned to David. She gave him a weak smile. “Bigfoot in Pineville. That will make the Gazette.”
He raised an eyebrow, forming a golden arch of disdain, but remained silent.
“I’ll, uh, go get your coat.”
His rough voice stopped her. “Forget it. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? You’re still coming?”
He stalked toward her, his eyes flashing dangerously. “And why wouldn’t I come? I said I would, didn’t I?”
Connie held her ground even though her legs begged to turn tail and run into her house. She’d seen David cocky, condescending, and arrogant, but she’d never seen him truly pissed off. His blue eyes looked as stormy as a cloud bank rolling across Lake Michigan, his nostrils flared, and his shoulders were as hard as granite.
He circled around her, stopped behind her back. His breath came hot on her neck. “Answer me. Why wouldn’t I come?”
Swallowing, she slowly turned to face him. She was a tall woman, almost five-nine, but he topped her by a couple of inches, forcing her to look up. His face was close enough that she could see the fine lines radiating from the corners of his lips. “Because…” Her pulse was like a battering ram in her throat. She licked her lips. “Because I insulted you. Again.” Guilt made her want to lower her gaze from his, but he deserved better. “And I’m sorry.”
“You ashamed to be seen with me?” He inched closer, the tips of his shoes butting her sneakers. Heat rolled off his body, soaking into her, and a trickle of sweat slid down her spine. “Or are you afraid?”
She drew her shoulders back. “Afraid of what? Afraid of you? Don’t flatter yourself. There are a lot of things I’m scared of, but you don’t even make the top one hundred.” She breathed easy, her guilt transforming into something else. She was tired of acting so politely all the time, tired of trying to make up for past bad behavior by tiptoeing around everyone. With David, she didn’t have to pretend. She could express how she truly felt. Fighting with him was both irritating and liberating.
And since words weren’t enough to express her indignation, she placed a hand on his chest and shoved.
Which, in hindsight, was a mistake. She barely had time to enjoy the feel of his pecs before he grabbed her wrist and whipped her hand behind her back. He hauled her up to her toes, pinning her against the length of his body. “Don’t push me. And don’t pretend that this doesn’t exist.”
She opened her mouth to do just that, to claim that clearly whatever was going on between them wasn’t happening, couldn’t be happening, but he didn’t give her the chance. He crushed his mouth to hers, his arms wrapping around her like a python. His lips claimed her own, his tongue invaded her mouth, and all her brain could think was ‘about damn time.’
Wrapping his hand around her ponytail, he tugged her head back, took the kiss deeper. Out of breath, he pulled back, and stared at her, his pupils flicking back and forth between her eyes. “You can be ashamed of me all you want. Hate me even. But don’t tell me you don’t want me.” He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I won’t believe you.”
Anger pumped through her veins, merging with her arousal. “Now wait just a damn minute. You don’t get to tell me who or what I want.”
His smile was slow and devastating, one side of his lips tipping up. “Keep telling yourself that.” Taking her mouth again, he released her wrist and cupped her ass, pressing her into the hard bulge behind his zipper. She opened her mouth to argue, and he slipped his tongue inside, plunging slowly, taking his time tasting her.
She’d tell him off in a second. As soon as her skin stopped tingling and her heart stopped racing. Just one more minute of t
his kiss, and then she’d let him have it. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she held on tight, knowing that she wouldn’t be feeling this good again any time soon. She’d let herself enjoy the moment, and when it ended, she’d go back to being the good girl trying to redeem herself. No more making out with the town bad boy after this.
He slid his hand down her butt and grabbed the back of her thigh, pulling until she hooked her leg around his hip. She whimpered. The sensation of being open to him stole her breath. Clouded her mind. Because becoming entangled with the town bad boy suddenly didn’t sound so wrong to her anymore. He rocked closer, his hard length pressing into her core.
She needed air. Dragging her mouth from his, she let her head fall back on her shoulders, gulping down breaths. David took the opportunity to bite at her exposed neck. She moaned, and his lips curved against her flesh.
The sun blinded her. She closed her eyes and just felt. Here she was, practically dry-humping David Carelli in her driveway. The man she’d hated since high school. A man so unlike her first love. Maybe the nickname he’d given her was accurate. Around David, she was crazy. He made her crazy.
She reached up to tangle her fingers in his hair, but his head snapped back. Something rammed into them, and his body jerked into hers. With a muttered oath, they crashed to the ground. He twisted, and hit the ground hard, the impact forcing his breath out of his lungs. Or maybe it was her landing on top of him that knocked the wind out of him. He blinked up at her, his mouth opening and closing, only gasping sounds emerging.
Connie sat up in a straddle over his stomach and looked over her shoulder. Pawing the ground, Milo glared at them, head lowered. Apparently not seeing David as a threat anymore, he huffed out a breath and stalked away, heading into the forest.
“What…?” David croaked.
Connie twisted back, and saw he was still struggling for air. Crawling off of him, she rubbed his chest in soothing circles. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”
He rolled his eyes, but sucked in deep breaths until his lungs expanded normally. He pushed himself up to sitting, and looked around, blinking. “What the hell was that? It felt like I was hit by a battering ram.”
Why Did It Have to Be You? Page 11