He's No Prince Charming

by LuAnn McLane

  “Do you write your own music?”

  “Not all, but some. Actually, I’ve missed it. I had forgotten how much I loved the creative side of this business, and I’m itching to get started. I’ve already got some songs brewing in my brain and I can’t wait to get them on paper.”

  “Do you want to head back?”

  “To the marina?”

  “To California,” he said, and was surprised when his heart pounded in anticipation of her answer.

  Dakota shook her head. “Heavens, no. This is inspi rational and is clearing the smog out of my head.”

  Trace angled his head at her. “So you don’t miss the bright lights, big city?”

  “Some things.” She sat down in her seat. “But I never felt at home there.”

  “And you do here?”

  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and was silent for a moment. “That’s what I’m trying to find, I suppose. A sense of home. Belonging.”

  Trace sat down and swiveled his chair toward hers. “What about performing?”

  Dakota felt a shiver of anxiety at the thought and nibbled on the inside of her cheek. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been up onstage. You know, though, I think I mostly miss making people happy. Standing up clapping, cheering, singing along.” She nodded and looked over at him thoughtfully. “Yeah, now that I think about it, and to tell you the truth, I don’t miss the glory of performing, but I loved making people smile. What about you?”

  Trace thought her question about bull riding would bother him, since he avoided talking about it at all costs. But, surprisingly, it didn’t. “Oh, I miss the glory,” he flatly admitted.

  “Really?” she asked softly.

  Trace nodded. “I’d be lying if I told you otherwise. I ate it up when I covered a bull and then waved my hat to the cheering crowd.”

  “You mean you didn’t wear a helmet?”

  “Are you kidding?” Trace barked out a laugh. “I was too young, stubborn, and cocky. I’d seen some pretty bad wrecks, but never thought it could happen to me. Of course, I was wrong.” He shook his head and laughed without humor.

  “You don’t have to talk about it, Trace.”

  “I usually don’t.” He hesitated, looked at her for a measuring moment and then said, “The bull that day was a chute fighter, and I knew I was in trouble from the get-go. He was a damned slinger, and I should have bailed out as soon as I could.”

  “But you don’t have any quit in you.”

  “I didn’t used to,” he admitted, more to himself than to her.

  “Go on,” she encouraged.

  “I decided to bear down instead. You know where that landed me.”

  “In the dirt.”

  “Yeah.” He absently looked up at the blue sky and was surprised it was so easy to talk to her about it.

  “What else do you miss?”

  “The chance to ride that damned bull again and best him.” He looked over at her. “I miss the challenge. The training. The competition. The money. I miss the rush that comes with the danger. There’s nothing else quite like it.” He reached up and raked his fingers through his wind-tangled hair. “I guess that’s why I felt so displaced. Lost. Bull riding was my life, and nothing else could come close to replacing it.”

  “And when that gets taken away, who are you and what are you worth?”

  He looked at her for a long moment. “You get it, don’t you?”

  Dakota nodded. “Oh yeah.” They sat in silence while the boat gently rocked. Then Dakota said, “What do you say we forget about all that serious stuff and just have some fun?”

  “Fun?” His dark eyebrows rose above his sunglasses. “Think we can remember how?”

  “Surely it’s like riding a bike,” Dakota answered with a grin.

  “Let’s hope,” Trace answered. “You wanna crank up some music and swim? We can jump in back here in the cove. Wait, you don’t have a suit,” Trace amended, thinking he might not be able to get past seeing her swim in her transparent clothing.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do. Sierra tossed the one she was wearing in your hot tub in a plastic bag with our lunch. She took it home to wash and thought it might come in handy.”

  Trace tapped his head. “She was thinkin’.”

  “And she tossed in some beer too.”

  “That girl deserves a raise.”

  “Give her one.”

  “I was teasing,” he said.

  “I wasn’t. Do we have the money? I realize that the slow economy has hit the marina hard. And I also know that you took over right when things took a nosedive. I’m not an accountant, but I’ve looked at the bottom line and I’m impressed that you were able to keep the marina afloat, if you will pardon the pun.”

  Trace hesitated when Dakota looked at him closely, making him wonder if she hadn’t guessed that he had secretly funneled in some of his own money early on. She had an uncanny knack for seeing right through him, and so he kept his expression casual. “Yeah, it hasn’t been easy, but we do okay,” he answered carefully. “Remember, you’ve got someone smart at the helm.”

  “Evidently,” Dakota agreed slowly, and then looked at him with serious eyes. “Running the marina under those circumstances would have been hard on my father ’s health. You saved him from that stress and probably added years to his life. Thank you for that.”

  Trace looked up into the trees while getting his emotions under control, and then turned back to Dakota. “Your father put his trust in me when I felt worthless. I was on a path to self-destruction when I ended up in Tall Rock, and he stopped me in my tracks. There was no way in hell I was gonna let him down.”

  “Well, anyone who can hang on to a raging bull for eight seconds is nothing but determined.”

  He angled his head at her. “I never thought of it that way, but I guess you’re right. But listen, gas prices have eased up a bit, and Grady and I keep the fishing camp full. I have some ideas to get corporate groups in here, and Grady wants to start a junior fishing club.” He wanted to make her aware that even though times were tough, they had plans in place.

  “Then do it.”

  “If you say so, boss lady.”

  “I say so, Captain.” She gave him a sharp salute.

  He laughed—really laughed—and it felt damned good. “Okay, no more shop talk. We’re playing hooky unless my phone rings, and then I’ll have to take care of business.”

  “I know the perfect place to swim,” he added, and started up the boat and eased forward at little more than idle speed. “Just around the bend up here. The cove is shaped like a horseshoe, and if we’ve had enough rain there will be a waterfall coming up.”

  “I know where you’re talking about,” Dakota commented as she looked around. “Wow, I had forgotten how much I loved this lake.”

  “You’ve been away for quite some time.”

  “Nine years.”

  “You were just a kid,” he said with a sideways glance in her direction. “Ever regret it?”

  Dakota stood up and looked out over the water. “Sure, sometimes. You know how it happened?”

  “No, not exactly. Only that you were a teen beauty queen or something.”

  “The only reason I entered the pageant was because part of the prize was studio time and a possible record deal. I was all about the music. When I was signed, I was on top of the world, and even though my mother and father tried to stop me, I couldn’t give up the chance of a lifetime.” Dakota smiled and said, “For a while there, I was America’s little sweetheart.”

  “So what happened?”

  Her smile faded. “Pretty simple. I grew up.” She shrugged. “Happens to most pop stars.”

  Trace wanted to know more, but she became quiet and he didn’t want to ruin the day.

  “Ohmigod, it’s beautiful!” Dakota said when they rounded the bend and a small but lovely waterfall came into view. “I remember swimming behind it when I was a kid.”

  “Sometimes there’s fishin
g boats back here, so we’re lucky,” Trace informed her as he killed the engine. “We’ll drop anchor and jump in if you want to.”

  Dakota’s face brightened. “Yes! And it’s getting hot out. This time the water will feel good.”

  “Last time not so good, huh?”

  “Not exactly. Sorry I was such a pain again,” she admitted as she stood up.

  “Sierra says it’s part of your charm.”

  “Being a pain?”

  “Yeah,” he answered, and rubbed a hand down his face. “Maybe that didn’t come out right. I guess I’m rusty.”

  “Rusty? Are you flirting with me, cowboy?”

  “I’m the captain, remember?”

  Dakota arched one eyebrow. “You’re avoiding the question, Captain Obvious.”

  “You’re right, I am. But I’m the captain so I’m allowed to. Go change, Princess. We don’t get to play hooky too often.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing,” he said, and put a fingertip to her lips.

  “Okay,” she drew out the word, and pressed her lips together before turning toward the cabin door.

  “Oh, Dakota?”

  “Yes?” She paused and turned around.

  “You’re a cute pain in the butt, if that’s any consolation.”

  She smiled. “Maybe you’re not so rusty after all.”

  Trace grinned when she disappeared behind the closed door. “We’ll see,” he said, and felt the sweet anticipation that comes with wanting a woman.

  17

  Playing Hooky

  Dakota went into the tiny head, wiggled out of her slightly damp clothes and into the blue tankini. Because she was a bit more full-figured than Sierra, she showed more cleavage and torso, but the swimsuit was still fairly conservative. Of course, Trace had seen every inch of her body so she didn’t know why she was worried, but this was in the light of the day instead of the heat of the moment, and she felt butterflies in her stomach.

  Deciding she needed to relax, she reached into the small fridge and found a couple of beers. After slipping the cans into Koozie cups, she took a deep breath and headed up to the cockpit. She spotted Trace sitting on the swim platform, dangling his legs in the lake.

  “Beer?” she asked, and sat down beside him.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Like Grady always says, it’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”

  “I suppose there’s really no rules or time frame when you’re playing hooky.”

  Trace took a swig and nodded. “You’re right, although you don’t seem like you were the hooky-playing kind.”

  “And you seem like you were.”

  “Yeah, I was,” Trace admitted with a grin. “I used to skip school whenever I could to practice bull riding at my uncle’s ranch. He’d cover for me, but my mother always had a way of finding out, and then there was hell to pay. Extra chores on the farm.”

  “Are your mother and father still farming?”

  “No. They sold the farm in Alabama and now have a little cottage by the beach in Gulf Shores.”

  “Nice.”

  “They earned it,” he said, and took another swallow.

  “Do you visit them often?”

  Trace looked down at his beer can, then out over the water. “Not as much as I should. My mother hovers. Wrings her hands. Dad doesn’t know what to say, so he says very little.” He shrugged. “Nothing is the same. It’s awkward.”

  Dakota took a drink of her beer and fell silent, not wanting to seem as if she were prying. She was surprised at how much he had opened up to her already and didn’t want to push too far. So instead of asking another question, she pushed up to her feet and said, “Last one in is a rotten egg!” And then she held her nose and jumped in, making sure to create a big splash. When she bobbed to the surface, Trace remained on the swim platform.

  “Haven’t heard that one in a long time.”

  “Well, looks like you’re the rotten egg.”

  “Been called worse.”

  “Are you coming in or not?” she demanded, and sent water flying his way.

  “Yes, but I’m gonna find something to float on,” he said as he pushed to his feet. A moment later, he returned with a couple of red ski vests and tossed her one, then jumped in without warning. “Lean back against me and slowly slide your legs through the arm holes.”

  “It keeps floating away.”

  “I’m holding the vest steady. Just slide right in,” he advised next to her ear, and despite the cool lake water, Dakota suddenly felt a flash of heat. “Got it?” he asked. When she nodded, he let her go, making Dakota wish she had fumbled a bit more.

  “Works like a charm!” she declared as she bobbed up and down in the water. “Who knew?” She spun around in a circle but then quieted down. “Hey, if I get too over-the-top, let me know.”

  Trace frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Sierra says I get too perky.”

  “Just be yourself. Especially today. Promise?”

  Dakota trailed her fingertips over the surface of the water and watched the ripples. “Therein lies the problem,” she said, and then looked at him. “I’m not sure I know just who I am. Sierra and I were talking about that the other day.”

  “You’re good for her, you know. She acts all big and bad, but I see right through her. In a short period of time, you’ve given her confidence. She’s really starting to …” He shrugged, as if trying to find the right word.

  “Blossom?”

  “Yeah. You know I feel bad that I treated her like one of the guys. She deserved better.”

  “Not your fault, Trace. She acted like one of the guys. It was safer that way,” she said quietly, thinking Sierra was not unlike him in some ways. But then she smiled. “Grady sure has noticed.”

  “Tell me about it.” Trace leaned back and tilted his face up to the sun. “I told him that if he hurts her, I’ll kick his ever-lovin’ ass.”

  “You think he will?”

  “Not intentionally. He’s a good kid.” He hesitated, but then said, “They’ve been friends for a long time. I’d hate for them to lose that.”

  “Wow, you’ve given it some thought,” Dakota commented, and then wished she hadn’t sounded so surprised.

  “Maybe I’m not as heartless as you think I am.”

  “I know you’re not. You don’t have me fooled, Trace Coleman,” she stated. Not wanting to spoil the moment, she gave him a quick splash. “Race you to the waterfall.”

  “Wearin’ these ski jackets on our butts?”

  “I thought you liked a challenge?” she said over her shoulder. It was slow going paddling forward while kicking her legs. “Last one there is a rotten egg!” She tilted sideways in her effort to gain speed and laughed. “I can smell you already!”

  “The hell you say,” Trace shouted, and easily overtook her.

  “Why, you!” she shouted back, and grabbed his feet.

  “Let go!”

  “No way. This works for me!” She laughed and let him pull her through the water. “You fell for my evil plan,” she teased, knowing full well he could kick her off if he wanted to. She laughed all the way to the edge of the waterfall, when he got his revenge and brought her beneath the spray of water. She protested, but he held her there until she laughingly begged for mercy.

  Instead of swimming back into the daylight, Trace tugged her behind the cascading spray. The air turned measurably cooler in the shade, and the sound of the water hitting the lake became muted and deeper. Fingers of sunlight reached in to them, causing the water to shimmer and sparkle.

  “Wow,” she said softly, and took a deep breath of moist air heavily scented with nature. “For some reason, I feel like I should whisper,” she said next to his ear. “Like we’re intruding into some special place,” she explained, and then lowered her gaze. “You must think I’m crazy.”

  “Right now, or in general?”

  Dakota giggled. “Right now.”

  “In that case, no, I don’t. I
understand what you’re saying.”

  Dakota nodded with a smile, but then swallowed hard while gazing at him. His hair was slicked back and his wet eyelashes were dark and spiky. The scar that bothered him so much seemed to fade before her eyes, and it was only the masculine beauty that she saw. Lazy droplets of water slid down his face, but it was his mouth that caught and held her attention.

  Unable not to, Dakota reached up and traced the outline of his lips with her fingertip—silky soft, wet, and warm. She slid her finger back and forth and then trailed downward and traced the dark stubble shading his jaw before looking back up into his eyes. She held his gaze while she leaned forward, letting him anticipate a kiss, but instead she licked his bottom lip, savoring the taste, the texture, before sliding the tip of her tongue over his chin and up to his jawline, which was lightly abrasive and sent a hot shiver down her spine.

  “God, Dakota,” Trace said, and with a groan he threaded his fingers through her wet hair and tilted her head back so he could kiss her senseless. He pressed their bodies together, squishing the vests between them in an effort to get as close to her as he possibly could. They kissed on and on, deeply, passionately until they somehow got sucked beneath the waterfall.

  And still, they kissed.

  When reality set in that they were being pelted nonstop by water, Trace paddled them out into the open. While laughing, he pushed her hair back from her face. “Hungry?” he asked, needing a distraction, or he was going to kiss her all over again and not be able to stop there.

  “Mmm, famished. The sun and the water always give me an appetite. You?” she asked in a breathless voice.

  “Yeah, let’s go dig into Sierra’s feast.”

  They paddled back to the boat, laughing at Dakota’s clumsy progress. “Your arms are longer. Not fair!”

  “You want some cheese with that whine?”

  “No, but a cold beer will do,” she said, and chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I sounded like I belong here, didn’t I?”

  Trace grinned. “As a matter of fact, yes. But don’t get too cocky at Dewey’s,” he added with a pointed look. “You know, like standing up and announcing that fights are stupid.”