“I don’t have any idea,” she answered honestly. “Just away. Somewhere else.” She shook her head. “It feels good. To go as fast as I want to, even knowing I shouldn’t.”
“I get that. It can feel good. Doing something you shouldn’t.”
Jenny felt her cheeks go pink before she even looked at him. His soft words prompted her to peek at his ring finger. She’d checked it out before and knew he didn’t have a ring, but did he have a tan line? She was pretty harmless, so what else could he mean by something you shouldn’t do?
“Yes,” she finally said, raising her gaze to meet his. He was still unreadable, still giving nothing away. “But it’s your job to stop that, right?”
“If it’s illegal, sure.”
“And if it’s not?”
For the very first time in any of their encounters, she saw his mouth soften and almost—almost—smile. His lips weren’t so thin, she saw; he simply held them tight together most of the time. Or most of the time he spent with her.
“If it’s not illegal...” His teeth flashed white against his skin as he spoke. She realized she was staring at his mouth but couldn’t tear her eyes away. “Then it’s every man for himself.”
“And every woman?” she asked.
“Depends on who the man is,” he said. And then...Nate Hendricks smiled. “Hopefully you’d get some help with that.”
The jolt of it went through her like a shock wave before settling into her belly. This was the man named Nate. Charming. Wicked. Utterly adorable. The delicious feeling dipped a little lower in her body.
“Oh, shit,” she breathed.
The smile disappeared. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What is it?”
Wow, she really knew how to play a flirtatious moment. He was frowning now, looking both suspicious and a little worried. With the thousands of people she’d watched flirt over the years, Jenny would’ve expected more from herself than a muttered scatological curse. Now he was leaning back, edging away from her.
“I’ve never seen you smile before!” she said quickly.
He frowned harder.
“I mean, usually when I see you, you’re really pissed off.”
“I take my job pretty seriously,” he said gruffly.
“You don’t have to tell me that! Whew. You’re Mr. Serious.” She was babbling and couldn’t stop. “Ha! You kind of scare me, you know.”
“Ah. Well.” He glanced toward the door. “I see.”
“I mean...not in a bad way!”
“I scare you in a good way?”
That sounded weird, but the words still pulsed through her. He did scare her in a good way. The good way that made her feel nervous and aware and a little too alive. Or just alive enough. It felt like driving fast, flying through the world.
“Yes,” she heard herself say. “In a good way.”
He stopped edging away from her.
When she was little, she’d tried ski jumping once at a tiny resort in Idaho. In retrospect, it had been the very smallest jump for the very smallest kids. No more than five feet high, but she could still remember standing at the top of that slope, trying to trust that gravity didn’t always have to be a brutal lesson. Her heart had beat so hard she’d felt her whole body pulse with it. She felt that now. She’d edged forward too far and there was no way to stop.
His gaze dipped down her body so quickly she almost missed it. “Are you scared right now?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“In a good way?” His pale gray eyes weren’t icy anymore. Now they glinted like metal. Jesus, he looked dangerous. He should ditch the shades and glare criminals into obedience. Criminals like her. She had the sudden, stupid idea that she’d like to speed past his sheriff’s truck again, as soon as possible. Right now. Tonight.
Her nipples tightened, and she was torn between hoping he could tell and praying he couldn’t. This was crazy. Her pulse was thumping so fast she actually felt light-headed.
He leaned a little closer and when he set his hand on the table, she was very aware it was only two inches from hers. Though their hands looked so different it was almost hard to believe they served the same functions. His skin was a deep bronze next to her paleness. His nails were cut so short they didn’t even approach the tips of his fingers.
Instead of his long-sleeved uniform shirt, tonight he wore a blue button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms sculpted from tight muscle. Hair glinted along his arm, down to his thick wrist, and she noticed that he still wore a watch. She rarely saw men at the bar with watches anymore, but his looked old and sturdy, as if it had been passed on from his father.
She looked at that hand and she desperately wanted to touch it.
“I’m not really scary, you know,” he said. Was that an invitation? But no. He probably didn’t know that she was staring at his hand and wondering what he’d do if she stroked a thumb over his knuckles. Two scars stood out in pale contrast to his tan. She wanted to touch them. She wanted to touch him. Tonight.
The desire enveloped her with sudden, overwhelming completeness. It was just that simple. For the first time in her life, Jenny understood the animal urge that had strangers pairing up every night. She’d watched it a hundred times and always shaken her head at the stupidity of going home with a person you’d just met. But now she got it. The stupidity didn’t matter. It wasn’t a factor. It wasn’t an impediment. It meant nothing, because sometimes it felt good to do something you shouldn’t.
She wanted that. Her nerves tingled with the compulsion. So Jenny slid her hand across the two inches of faux wood that separated their skin, and she stroked her thumb over his knuckles.
His fingers twitched, and she almost jerked her hand away. But that would likely ruin her attempt to be seductive, jumping as if she’d just startled a snake. His hand started to curl into a fist before he flattened it to the table.
Jenny’s heart was tripping over itself, trying to beat faster than was physically possible. She dared to meet his gaze, but looked quickly away as she felt a nervous smile flit over her face. His eyes were just so...intense. “Now you look really scary. Maybe you should smile again.”
“Maybe I should. But I’m worried you won’t take that class if you’re not scared of me.”
“Is that what you’re worried about?” she asked, wondering if he really was. Because at this moment, she wanted him thinking about very different things. “My little driving problem?”
“No. I’m worried that you could be a much bigger problem than I imagined.”
Smiling now, she let herself look up. His mouth was still an intimidatingly flat line, but the edges of his eyes were tight with amusement, as if he were just about to smile and was holding back.
“Jenny...” he said.
She had to look away. She looked too eager already. Grinning at him, letting her pinky finger rest against his as if she’d just happened to set her hand there. Play it cool, she ordered herself. Or coolish. Even something that could very generously be thought of as possibly cool by a kind observer.
Was he about to propose something? Ask her when she got off work? Ask if he could see her afterward? He could. He could see as much of her as he wanted, because she’d never felt this kind of lust before.
Her gaze darted over the room, looking for something calm to latch onto, but her eyes caught on something decidedly not calm. That was no surprise on pitcher night. It was a saloon, after all. People came here to let loose and have fun and sometimes even cause trouble. But this was personal.
Her eyes widened at the man standing in the doorway. She shook her head.
“Maybe I could—” Nate started, but she didn’t hear the rest.
“Oh, no,” she breathed, as she watched the guy stop four feet inside the door and nod as if the place pleased him.
She slid her hand away from Nate’s. “Oh, no,” she groaned.
“Hey,” Nate said, the tone of his voice suddenly no-nonsense. “Wh
at’s wrong?”
Everything, she thought. Everything was very wrong. She should have run for the state line after all.
* * *
NATE FOLLOWED THE LINE of her gaze across the room, his muscles tensing to take action. But despite the dozens of people packed into the space, he didn’t see any reason for alarm. There was laughter and flirtation, and maybe a slightly tense conversation between the couple at the next table, but nothing that set off warning bells.
One man stood alone near the door, his long blond hair pulled into a ponytail and a goofy smile pasted on his face. Nate slid his eyes back to Jenny and looked again. Yeah, she was staring right at that guy.
“Who is he?” Nate asked.
“My ex,” she said, her mouth stiff in a way he’d never seen, not even when she’d been fighting back tears yesterday.
“Ex-boyfriend?” he pressed.
“Ex-husband,” she said. “Ellis.”
Nate blinked and looked back to the blond. “Recent?” he asked, realizing at the same moment that he’d crafted a false sense of familiarity with Jenny Stone in his mind. He knew her age and birthday and accident history. He knew she didn’t have a criminal record, and she kept her insurance up to date, and he knew where she worked. Other than her willingness to be an organ donor, what else did he know except that she smiled a lot and liked to drive fast?
She might have five ex-husbands. She might be married right now.
Following the example set by her hand, which had pulled away from its interesting closeness as soon as she’d spotted her ex, Jenny pushed her chair back from the table. “I’m sorry,” she said, eyes still on the man. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Wait,” Nate started, but the ex-husband was heading over now, his eyes on Jenny.
“Sorry,” she said again before moving toward the bar. The man’s trajectory changed and he followed her across the room. Nate’s neck prickled at the sight of a pursuit, even if it was a slow one, but the ex’s smile only showed friendliness. There was no edge to it. No warning. But Nate watched closely, keeping an eye on the man’s face, his shoulders, his hands, watching for any hint of suppressed violence.
The guy said something, and Jenny grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the end of the bar.
“Come on!” he said on a laugh, his voice loud enough that Nate could hear. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“What are you doing here?” she nearly shouted.
When they reached the bar, their words were no longer loud enough to hear past the crowd. Ellis seemed to be talking a lot while Jenny frowned and shook her head.
Nate cursed the ex-husband’s timing, his own slow draw on making a move, and added a few general curses for his inconvenient interest in someone as complicated as Jenny Stone. Curling his fist, he looked down at the hand she’d touched, one faint brush of her fingertips over his knuckles. It had been nothing. The pressure barely even noticeable. So why could he still feel it?
He clenched his hand hard, forcing his nerves to let go of the lingering trace of herself she’d left behind. If he could force his mind to do the same, that would be even better, but her presence was still bouncing around in there, leaving bruises in her wake.
She, on the other hand, seemed to have completely recovered from their encounter. Hands on her hips, she was now facing good old Ellis, her clenched jaw barely moving as she read him the riot act. Either that or she had a very tense style of reminiscing. Ellis maintained his loose-limbed stance, smiling indulgently at her diatribe.
“Ellis!” she yelled, throwing her hands in the air.
“It’s not like that!”
When the guy laughed, Jenny seemed to get even more frustrated, and a wild gesture caught a half-full pitcher on the bar. It slid away and shot into the air between two patrons before it crashed to the floor. A screech went up as people were splashed with cold beer.
Nate shot to his feet, already stepping forward to control the situation, but he wasn’t needed. The male bartender grabbed Ellis by the collar of his shirt to haul him out, but Jenny shook her head and tried to calm the situation down.
Whatever she said, her ex-husband moved toward the door with a smile. “I’ll come by later, Jenny!” he called, still perfectly cheerful as he left the saloon.
Nate stood there, ready for violence, adrenaline pumping through his veins as the crowd broke into scattered applause. Jenny grabbed a mop and came around the bar to clean up the spill. Once that was done, she crouched down with a rag to clean the splatter from the bar stools.
Frozen in place between two tables, Nate watched her, waiting, wondering if he should offer to help. Wondering what to say. But in the end, he didn’t say anything at all. Jenny didn’t look in his direction. She didn’t even glance up. She just stood and headed back behind the bar.
Nate slid the business card off the table and left.
CHAPTER THREE
“YOU REALLY KNOW HOW to pick ’em,” Rayleen cackled from her corner table for the tenth time that night.
Jenny sighed and rolled her shoulders, determined to continue ignoring the old lady.
“He sure did have pretty hair, though. Do you give it a hundred strokes at night? That’s the recipe for a good marriage, you know.” More cackling. Rayleen was drunk.
“He’s my ex, Rayleen.” Jenny sighed. “I don’t stroke anything of his, and I haven’t in a long time.”
“Well, he’s back now. And ex sex doesn’t count, or that’s what I’ve always heard.”
Jenny finished wiping down the bar and glanced toward the last tables of lingerers. “Is that what your exes told you? Because I think that’s called an ulterior motive.”
“Ha!” The unlit cigarette clenched between her lips bounced as she spoke. “That’s what I told them. And hell, yeah, I had a motive.”
Accustomed to the white-haired lady’s constant sex talk, Jenny just nodded as she looked at the clock. It was one, and Ellis apparently wasn’t coming back. “All right, folks!” she called. “That’s it! Closing time.”
There were a few good-hearted groans as the two tables cleared out, but they all offered friendly waves as they left. Not for the first time, Jenny was glad that pitcher night ended at one. They were open until two Thursday through Saturday, and she was sure she was too exhausted to have made it another hour. Her ex-husband was the gift that kept on giving.
He’d reappeared two months earlier, calling to say he was in town and asking if he could buy her coffee. She’d wanted to say no. Just hearing his voice had made her anxious enough that she’d immediately reached for the car keys, just to know she could run if she needed to. She hadn’t spoken to him in ten years, which was exactly how she’d preferred it. But guilt had made her say yes. Guilt that she’d run the way she had, leaving nothing but the wedding band she’d set on the table while he slept. Granted, their marriage had been brief and an idiotic idea from the start, but he hadn’t been the one to walk out. She had.
He hadn’t done well since then. She knew that much from brief snatches of gossip when old friends passed through Jackson. So she’d said yes to his invitation, heart beating with anxious regret before she even made it out the door.
She should have gone with her first instinct. Ellis hadn’t grown up at all. And she’d ended up paying for the coffee, along with two muffins and a donut he’d ordered for the two of them and then eaten by himself.
Ellis had been looking for a place to crash, but more than that, he’d needed a job. Times were tough back in small-town Idaho. He’d been out of work for a year. But it was a slow ski season in this economy, and there wasn’t enough work for the regulars who showed up every year, much less a stranger who’d just arrived.
When he’d asked about working at the saloon, with her, Jenny’s heart had leaped with terror at the very idea. She’d said no before he could even finish asking.
God, she’d felt horrible about it. She still did. Like a cruel, heartless bitch. But the idea of her past and her p
resent mixing up into one tangled mess... No. She didn’t run in circles. She ran to escape. She couldn’t do it.
But he’d really needed help. And she’d refused. And here he was again.
She’d assumed he’d gone back to Idaho, but instead, he’d apparently been hanging out with the group of losers who always surrounded Steve Tex, a guy who’d once been a promising snowboarder and was now a perpetual ne’er-do-well.
Jenny didn’t like that. She didn’t like it at all. Ellis wasn’t dumb, but he’d always been naïve. Look how quickly he’d fallen for Jenny, when she obviously hadn’t deserved that kind of trust.
Ellis was cute and easygoing. He liked everyone. And in the time she’d known him, he’d never shown an ounce of self-preservation. That was what had scared her tonight, because she knew the kinds of people who hung out with Steve Tex. Users and drifters and sneaky bastards. Steve’s house, which had once been a mansion bought with sponsor money from his snowboarding days, was now a run-down, beat-up den of feral half adults.
She couldn’t push Ellis away without making sure he understood what he’d gotten into. But damn, he’d chosen a truly inconvenient time to pop back into her life, ruining her first promising flirtation in months.
Nate had left at some point. She wasn’t sure when, because she’d been too mortified to look at him. But he’d left, and he wouldn’t be back. He’d even taken the card. But she had the first one he’d given her, and she’d call tomorrow. She’d call and she’d take that class and she’d never speed again, if only because she couldn’t bear to speak to Deputy Hendricks after that.
An ex-husband goading her into a high-tempered, beer-smashing, barroom scene was probably one of the least effective flirtation strategies she could have employed. God, she was really the picture of success. A washed-up bartender driving a car that was more suited to a teenage boy pumped up on acne meds and energy drinks. A white-trash divorcee yelling at her ex in public and knocking over drinks. Nice.
She could probably still persuade Nate to sleep with her if she really pulled out all the stops, but who wanted to have to talk a man into bed?
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