by Lia Davis, Milly Taiden, Kerry Adrienne, Vella Day, Andie Devaux
He took a long drag on his beer to finish it off, letting the cold brew relax his muscles. It was a bit warm in the bar, so he slipped off his leather jacket and placed it on his lap. He was about to turn around to get a feel for the locals when the softest, sweetest voice floated toward him.
“Are you new around here?”
He’d been so focused on his concerns that he actually jerked at the intrusion. Turning to face the slip of a woman sliding onto the bar stool next to him, his hormones shot through the roof, a phenomenon that hadn’t occurred in forever. His first instinct had been to laugh at her pickup line, but from the serious look on her face, he was glad he hadn’t. At least she hadn’t added “big boy” to her question.
The woman was tiny, yet she had the biggest hazel eyes he’d ever seen, and blonde hair like spun gold that caressed her shoulders. Her skin, too, was bronzed, as if she spent a lot of time outside.
“I am new. Name’s Storm Durant.”
Her chin tucked under. “Storm? That’s an unusual name, but I like it.” She swallowed. “A lot.”
He’d been picked on for years because of it. Though, once he’d shot past six foot and put on muscle, the taunts had stopped. “Thanks. And you are?” he asked, holding out his hand.
She rubbed her palms on jeans that looked as if they could use a few patches, especially since he could detect a hint of red panties under one of the rips. Jesus. She was fucking hot and totally adorable.
The mystery woman finally shook his hand. “I’m Chey.”
“You don’t need to be shy around me.” Storm was surprised by the strength in her fingers. Perhaps she worked construction, holding one of those caution signs when the work crews were doing road repairs.
She laughed, and the sound rumbled deep in his chest. Clearly, it had been too long since he’d spent time with a woman outside of work.
“My name’s Cheyenne Snow, but my friends call me Chey.” She looked off to the side, acting as if she weren’t sure she should even be talking with him.
Now, he looked like the fool. “My mistake. Don’t we make a good pair?”
She quirked a brow. “We do?”
“Snow Storm? Get it?”
The groan was expected but nonetheless charming.
“Cute. So, Storm, what are you doing in Hidden Hills?” She wiggled her bottom on the seat and leaned an elbow on the counter. “It’s not exactly a tourist destination.”
He wasn’t ready to spill the beans about what he did for a living. “I’m relocating here.” Storm wasn’t sure why her shoulders slumped, but it concerned him. “It’s that bad?”
“No. Well, actually, I’ve lived here my whole life, so I guess I’m not a good person to ask. To me, Hidden Hills is your basic small town with a few specialty shops, along with the usual grocery store, pharmacy, and bank.”
Somehow, he doubted that was all it was. “I think you’re lucky to be so settled. I’ve moved more times than I can count, though I was lucky my dad stayed on the east coast for the most part.” As much as he thought Cheyenne was date potential, he wasn’t ready to ask her out. He had to see how the job worked out first. “Tell me. What’s there to do around here?”
The chatty bartender, Lilly, came over with a soda for Cheyenne and another beer for him, retrieving his empty. The service around here was a nice change from the busy city bars he was used to. Cheyenne squinted her eyes at Lilly but then chugged the drink. From the smirk on the bartender’s face, his welcoming committee of one had just been cut off.
She looked so distraught that he pushed his beer toward her. “Want mine?”
Her fingers tightened around her glass. “Thanks, I’m good.”
Storm brought the bottle to his lips. “You were about to recommend some activities?”
She smiled and refocused. “If you’re into the outdoors, your options are endless. We aren’t on the ocean, but we do have a few lakes where you can swim or boat. That is, if you can stand the cold water.” She looked up at him with a challenge in her eyes.
“I can handle it. Can you?”
“I’m not much for the water.”
Interesting. Perhaps she’d had a bad experience on it or witnessed a drowning. He’d rescued two people from near death when they’d wandered in the ocean too far. Both had survived, but the fear he could have been too late would forever be burned into his brain.
She tapped his helmet. “I see you like motorcycles. May I recommend the Blue Ridge Parkway?”
“I’ve driven a fair part of it. It’s exhilarating and has wonderful curves, but I was looking for something with a little less traffic.” Great. Now he sounded like he was afraid of cars. In truth, he loved the solitude and the connection with nature.
“Have you been on SR256 or SR12? They’re winding and rather isolated.”
“No, but I’ll check them out.” He was excited to try them.
“Do you like to ride horses?” Her cute chin lifted.
He hadn’t expected that question. “I’m not really sure.”
She chuckled. “How can you not know?”
“Only rode one once, and that was a long time ago.” Her clear eyes sharpened, but he couldn’t identify the exact emotion. “Let’s just say the experience ended with a bruised butt and sore thighs. My dad said horses were too expensive to own or rent, which was why I didn’t ride. Besides, city living wasn’t conducive to being an equestrian.”
Her chin tucked in. “Where did you say you were from?”
“I didn’t, but I was born in Florida, raised in Boston, then moved to Maryland –Baltimore to be precise. I’ve lived in Georgia and Mississippi for a small stretch of time, too.” He didn’t need to be discussing his background. He was here to learn about the people of Hidden Hills. “I’m guessing you’re quite the horsewoman?” She wouldn’t have asked otherwise.
Her eyes glowed. “Yes. I’m an animal person of every kind, actually. I was raised with pigs, cows, horses, dogs, cats, you name it.”
“I take it you grew up on a farm?”
She grinned, looking so cute. “Give the man a cigar. Actually, it’s more of a ranch than anything, but we have our share of barn animals.”
Storm wasn’t sure what it was about this woman that he liked. Maybe it was her sense of humor or her charm. Or possibly her defiance. She definitely oozed an innocence that he liked, but he sensed she was savvy about many aspects of life. Her fingers tapped the bar as she glanced to the side. She was probably deciding whether or to stay or leave.
“I had a dog once,” he added, wanting to keep her from leaving, “but he ran away when I was seven. My dad said I couldn’t have another one because I wasn’t responsible enough to keep the first one.” Storm was hoping to find a rescue once he settled here.
“That wasn’t fair. You were only a kid!”
“Still should have been more careful about closing the back door.”
“If you want to try again, Hidden Hills has a few dogs at the animal clinic awaiting foster care before they’re placed with a family.”
“I’ll definitely check it out, though I’m not sure I have any good references. After all, I didn’t handle my last dog very well.” He winked.
She pressed her lips together, clearly trying to stop herself from smiling. “You’ll just have to convince the vet that you’d make a good owner.”
Her smile then broke free and his cock sat up and took notice. His thoughts wanted to run in an inappropriate direction, so he grabbed his drink and downed a few swallows to keep the lust at bay.
Cheyenne looked behind her at the men setting up their instruments on a makeshift stage at the back of the bar, and he followed her gaze. He loved country music, but given the men’s long hair and lack of cowboy hats, they could just as easily be rockers.
An amp screeched, nearly blasting his eardrums. “Do they play here every night or just on occasion?” he asked once his ears stopped ringing.
He might need to find another bar to frequent if they played too loudly, as he preferred to have a conversation without shouting. The problem was that on his pass through town, this had been the only bar he’d spotted.
“It depends on when the mood strikes them.”
Typical of a small town, he supposed. Before he could question her again, one of the men from the group stepped up to the mic and began strumming a fairly good rendition of a Garth Brooks’ song. Cheyenne slipped off the stool, grabbed his hand, and tugged. “Let’s dance.”
Whoa. While he loved a woman who took initiative, especially in bed, he liked to be the one in control on most occasions. It was in his nature. “I’ll look like a fool if I step out there. I’m not much of a dancer.”
Not one to tear up the dance floor was an understatement. Hell, he barely knew his right foot from his left.
“That’s okay, I am. You can follow my lead.” For some reason his lack of experience seemed to please her.
Storm almost laughed. He wasn’t ready to be taken out of his comfort zone by this spitfire. “I need to warn you. I might step on your foot.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll get out of your way.” She checked him out from his mouth to chest. Her eyes lowered, pausing briefly at his groin before continuing down to his boots and back up until she locked her gaze with him. Her look was so scorching, her eyes might be hot lasers. “I’m fast.”
“Good to know.” He didn’t want to think about whether her comment had a double meaning.
“I think you’re just afraid to dance.” She held up a palm and smiled. “You needn’t be. I won’t hurt or embarrass you.”
He laughed. He had the urge to pick her up and squeeze her tight to show her that being afraid had nothing to do with it. This was about pride.
A few loud-mouthed men and raucous women took to the floor. The men were large and looked like they could run over someone if they weren’t careful. None appeared to be good dancers, which made him feel better. “Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
He found Cheyenne refreshing, and she’d already captivated his imagination. He was used to slick professional women—women who were conservative, analytical, and perhaps afraid to let loose. Cheyenne was feistier than those he’d met and seemed much less deceitful.
She pulled on his arm again. “Let’s go before the dance floor fills up.”
Fill up? Really? Half the place was empty. Her dragging him around the tightly packed tables to the end of the room had him laughing at her determination. She must really love to dance. The song was a two-step, and he silently groaned. He’d dated a woman who insisted he take some lessons. That lasted about a month—the lessons and the woman. About all he mastered was the basic six count of quick, quick, slow, slow. If his partner was good, he might manage a twirl or two, but that was all.
“I don’t bite,” Cheyenne said with a playful grin.
He must have looked a bit tentative. “You couldn’t harm me if you tried, kitten.” At six foot four and about two hundred and fifty pounds, he worried he might harm her.
“Kitten?”
Perhaps he’d overstepped his bounds. “Do you prefer the moniker ‘ma’am?’”
She grinned then picked up his hands, placed one palm on her back and held the other at her face-level. “Kitten’s good. Relax. Have fun. It’s spring—a time to rejoice.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He couldn’t hold back his chuckle at her firmed lips.
To his surprise, after a few small missteps, he picked up the rhythm rather well. Cheyenne was a natural teacher, guiding him, and even going so far as to count the steps for him when he faltered. No sooner had the song ended than the band crooned out a slow tune. He thought Cheyenne would want to take a seat back at the bar, but she looked up at him as if he were prey—hers. His cock turned harder than the wooden dance floor. This wasn’t good.
As if he wasn’t excited enough, she had to go and plaster her face against his breastbone and then reach high to clasp her arms around his neck. Holy shit did she feel good. Too bad he wore a thick flannel shirt that reduced the pressure from her tits. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he pictured them skin to skin, sizzles of desire tripped up his spine.
Storm didn’t know whether to blame the beer, the smell of the rich cedar walls, or Cheyenne’s perfume, but his senses had come alive. Add in the throbbing in his groin and the heat pouring off her body, and he crowned himself a man in lust.
Storm could picture it now. The headlines would read: Newcomer comes to town and ravages local woman. He’d lose his practice faster than he could say, “Hidden Hills.”
“You okay?” his little animal lover asked.
“Sure.” As if to prove his point, he lowered his hands to her butt and lifted her up until they were eye-to-eye. “That’s better. Now I can’t step on your toes.”
She dropped her head back and laughed. “You’re silly, Storm Durant. Now put me down.”
Not wanting to embarrass her or himself, he lowered her to the floor. The problem was that because he was holding her so tightly, her belly slid over his hard cock. Damned if her eyes didn’t widen with interest.
“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying this dance so much,” she said with an impish grin.
What a vixen. “I am. It must be the company.”
Instead of wrapping her arms around his neck, she dragged her hands up his back and placed her face on his chest again. She was so light and fragile that he had no idea what to do with her. He feared he might bruise her if he hugged her back.
She looked up at him with quirky little grin. “People are staring.”
“At us?”
“Yes. You’re supposed to be moving your feet.” She giggled and gave him a little nudge.
Oh, shit. It was her fault for distracting him. Determined not to draw any more attention to them, he rested his chin on Cheyenne’s head and tried to remember the steps, but the softness of her hair and her delicious scent that he couldn’t quite identify, made it almost impossible to focus.
The song mercifully ended. He hoped the respite, regardless how short, would give his libido a chance to settle down. Doctors were supposed to stay calm under all circumstances. If these lapses continued, he might have to turn in his medical license.
“I need another drink,” he blurted.
She looked up at him. “So do I.”
Holding her hand, Storm escorted her to their stools at the bar. When Lilly came over, he placed a twenty on the counter. “What will you have?” he asked Cheyenne.
“A mojito, please.”
“Another Amstel for me.”
Lilly retreated and fixed their drinks. Once she delivered them, Cheyenne twisted toward him and leaned forward. While her tits weren’t large, the tops of her breasts were easy to see in the low cut shirt. He licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to taste them. Christ. He needed to control himself. Proof positive that he’d been working way too hard these past few years.
“What’s the story behind your name?” she asked bringing her drink to her pretty pink lips. “I’ve never known anyone named Storm before.”
He’d told the tale to only a few people, but she seemed genuinely curious. As long as they didn’t talk about sex, he’d be fine. “It’s not all that fascinating.”
“How about you let me be the judge?” As she was about to take another sip, her tongue peeked out, and his cock stood back up at attention.
He couldn’t quite tell if she was trying to drive him wild or just looking to connect with him. Hidden Hills was such a small town that he bet it didn’t get a lot of visitors. If she’d spent her whole life there, a fresh face might be a much-needed distraction.
“You asked for it.” He tipped back his beer. Boy, had he needed that. All the dancing had made him thirsty. Actually, it was his lustful thoughts that had brought on the fierce need. “When my dad finished college, he wanted to do a bit of traveling before he had
to get a job, so he went to Europe. He started in England and then headed south. It was in France where he met my mother, and according to him, it was love at first sight.”
She placed a hand on her chest and sighed. “That’s so romantic.”
He smiled at her reaction. “I always thought so. Anyway, after a whirlwind courtship, my dad convinced my mother to come back with him to America. When he couldn’t find a job, he enlisted in the service. A month later, she became pregnant with me, and then Dad was shipped overseas shortly thereafter.”
“Oh no. I can’t imagine being pregnant and alone.”
He nodded. “Dad was supposed to be home before she delivered, but she went into early labor. Some claim it was a hurricane off the Florida coast that caused a change in air pressure that brought on my early delivery. During the storm’s peak, power was temporarily lost and the roads were clogged with people trying to evacuate. My mom’s OBGYN was stuck in the flooded streets and couldn’t make it to the hospital on time. I was in distress, and to this day I think the new doctor handling the delivery was ill equipped to deal with a breached birth, my mom’s elevated blood pressure, her low red blood cell count, and a host of other issues.”
Cheyenne chewed on her bottom lip and her brows pinched. “That’s terrible.”
“Mom was in and out of consciousness, or so I’m told. With her poor mastery of English, she kept calling out the word storm. In the end, the trauma of my birth was too much and she bled out. After she passed, the nurses had to name me something.”
Cheyenne grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry. That’s so sad. The staff named you Storm?”
“Yes.”
“Your dad didn’t try to change it?”
Her empathy warmed him. “No. If that was what mom wanted to call me, Dad wanted to honor her wish.”
Cheyenne swiveled back to the counter and guzzled her mojito before facing him again. “Let’s get out of here.”