“You’ve had a lot going on these past years,” she said. “I don’t think a relationship with anyone was on your mind.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s true.”
“But it is now?” She wasn’t sure she should be asking this, but their conversation had arrived at this point and time naturally.
He looked thoughtful. “I’ve known for a while now that I need to move on from the past. I’ve just been waiting for the right woman to come along.”
Her belly flipped. Was she the right woman?
“The only potential problem I see is Leslie’” He let out a long sigh. “She doesn’t want her daddy to date.”
He went on. “When we left Special Dreams earlier this week, I think Leslie suspected something between us—even though there wasn’t anything before now.”
“Did you tell her about us meeting for drinks today?” Dara asked.
Jack dragged his hand down his clean-shaven face. “I chickened out. Why should a sixteen-year-old young woman make me feel like a teenager sneaking out to meet a girl? But it does.”
He shook his head. “I guess it’s partly due to me not knowing what’s in your head.” He smiled. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“If you didn’t know this already,” Dara said. “I share pretty much everything on my mind if I think it’s important.”
“And you find this important?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She kept her gaze focused on him. She wanted him to see it in her eyes. “I want to explore this with you, see if we’re on the right track, and go from there.”
He looked so intent, almost serious. “I’m right there with you, honey.”
Honey.
The way he said it sent swirls of something through her belly. Butterflies of excitement? Nerves from fear and the unknown?
Penny arrived with platters of food, interrupting the conversation Dara hadn’t expected. She’d never been so direct with a man. She didn’t pull punches, but she hadn’t gone anywhere in a conversation like this.
But then, this was Jack.
Where do we go next after starting in this direction?
Dara put sauce on her street tacos and took a bite. She gave a happy sigh after she swallowed. “These are yummy.”
Jack wiped his mouth with a napkin. “The sliders here have always been my favorite.”
“What grade is Max in?” Dara asked between bites. It felt the most natural thing in the world to fall into another subject, even after the conversation they’d just had.
Jack swallowed. “Eighth grade—he’ll start his freshman year next fall.” Jack shook his head. “Damn, that kid has grown. He’ll be taller than me soon.”
“I’ve never really had the opportunity to chat with Max over the years,” Dara said. “He’s grown from a squirt to a good-looking young man.”
Dara ate her taco while Jack spoke.
“Max and I talked a couple of times this week about him looking at going into the Air Force after college,” Jack said. “He’d always talked about ranching like the majority of the McBride family. This seemed to come out of the blue. But he has a well thought out plan if he decides to go in that direction.”
“That’s admirable,” Dara said. “What does he want to do in the service?”
“First and foremost to serve our country and protect it from those who do us harm,” Jack said. “Made me prouder than I can tell you.” He went on, “Wants to be a pilot.”
“From the way his Grandpa Max talks about him and his accomplishments, I bet he would make a good pilot, too,” Dara said.
Jack grinned. “Yeah, Dad is crazy about the kids. I don’t think they could do anything wrong in his eyes.”
“I can’t believe how adult Leslie is now.” Dara set her taco back on the plate. “Just since she started working at Special Dreams a few months ago, she’s matured.”
“Scary as hell,” Jack said. “My baby girl is nearly a woman.”
“Have your shotgun ready?” Dara said in a teasing tone.
“Damned straight.” Jack grabbed his beer bottle. “I’m ready for the first young man who wants to date my daughter.”
“You and your brothers were sure protective of your little sister,” Dara said. “Bailey would tell us how she had to sneak out just to meet up with a boyfriend.”
Jack frowned. “She did what?”
“Oops.” Dara bit into her taco. She took her time chewing so she wouldn’t have to say anything else.
“Bailey always did like to live life under her terms,” he said.
Dara just nodded and took another bite.
They enjoyed their bar food and drinks as they continued to talk and share stories. As far as Dara was concerned, nothing had been easier or more enjoyable when it came to dates than what was happening right now.
Not only was the conversation comfortable, but the sexual tension between them was off the charts. Dara had never felt anything like it. Nothing was said about it, but it was a feeling that seemed to grow the longer they talked.
What would it be like to make love to Jack?
Heat rose to her cheeks at the thought.
He stopped in the middle of a story about Bailey when she came face-to-face with a diamondback rattlesnake when she was a kid.
“Are you okay?” He studied her. “Your face is red.”
Dara swallowed. “Just a little hot.”
“Why don’t we get out of here?” he said. “We can walk around the Plaza.”
“That sounds great.” Dara was so glad he couldn’t read her mind. “I can use a walk after all this food.” Not to mention it would be a great way to spend more time with Jack.
* * *
After putting a bill on the table large enough to pay their tab, along with a generous tip, Jack stood, grabbed his jacket, and stepped away from the booth.
He smiled at Dara as he helped her out of her seat. She returned his smile and it warmed something deep inside him.
He led her toward the front entrance. A thought appeared in his mind that surprised him. He’d never known the real Lucy until they were married.
It had seemed incomprehensible that he’d known her for twelve years, yet never knew those sides of her.
Could Dara be something other than what he saw on the outside?
Stop it, McBride.
He’d known Dara a long time, and he’d always been able to read people well.
But then he’d thought he’d known Lucy after having been with her from the time they were in junior high until they married after their college graduation.
He’d found there was a side of Lucy that would have shocked those who knew her.
Did anyone really know anyone at all?
The doubts that had popped into his mind right this moment pissed him off. That was a long time ago, and he’d been a kid who’d taken Lucy at face value.
He wasn’t a kid anymore, and Dara wasn’t Lucy.
Dara cut into his thoughts as they walked through the entrance and out into the evening. “Is everything okay, Jack?”
“Yeah.” He nodded and found himself smiling at the beautiful woman.
“Good.” She smiled. “Because I think you’re going to break my hand.”
“Sorry about that.” He let up on his grip and drew her to the side so that they were in the shadows near the park. He brought her hand between them and rubbed it between his palms. “Better?”
She nodded. “Much better.” She took his hand this time. “I’m ready for that walk.”
Chapter Four
The way Jack held her hand as they walked made Dara feel secure, like nothing bad could ever happen. She wondered why he had been gripping her hand so tightly as they came out of Nectars, but she didn’t ask.
“You’re cold,” Jack said and released her.
She hadn’t realized she was shivering. He helped her into her jacket before he slipped on his own and took her hand again.
They walked around the Prescott Courthous
e Plaza. Stars winked from the cloudless sky and the cool autumn-scented breeze chilled her cheeks. Jack’s hand felt warm, his presence solid beside her.
“I’ve always liked it here.” Dara studied the horse and rider statues around the plaza. “I did a painting of the Rough Rider monument in front of the courthouse.”
“You’re an artist?” he asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. “Sometimes I still paint, but I’ve been working on other art projects, currently faux stained glass. I’m having fun with it, but I might move on to stained glass.” Dara glanced up at him. “I chase my artistic whims. I can’t say for sure what I’ll do next.”
“I’d like to see your work.” He smiled at her. “There’s so much to appreciate about you, Dara.”
“I’ll show you.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, his supple leather jacket against her cheek, as they walked. It felt right. “When I paint, I mostly do landscapes and western art.”
“Right up my alley.” He released her hand and slid his arm around her shoulders. “My cousin Clint’s wife, Ella, creates western sculptures in the Remington style. She has her own gallery on Whiskey Row. I have a couple of her pieces.”
“I’ve been there.” Dara pictured the pretty blonde artist. “She’s really nice and her work is incredible. I can’t afford her sculptures, but I can appreciate them. I believe she has some of her pieces in a Scottsdale gallery, too.”
“Do you sell your work?” he asked.
“I have.” She looked ahead at another horse and rider statue. “I’ve never been into it for the money, though. That’s not what drives me.”
“What does drive you?” Genuine interest was in his voice.
“What I do for a career.” She thought about it. “I love the kids and helping them get to a point where they can function well in the outside world. It’s hard to see them leave as young adults when they graduate from our school, but there are always more kids who join us, more kids to love.”
“It’s an admirable career,” Jack said. “It sounds rewarding.”
“It is an extraordinary blessing in my life.” Dara’s nose had grown cold, unlike the rest of her that was warmed by being so close to Jack. “When I was in college, I focused on non-profits because I wanted to help others. I never dreamed how much I would love it.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing more of what you do when you show me around the ranch.”
She tilted her face to look at him. “So am I.”
He brought them to a standstill, and turned her in his arms so that he was looking down at her. He studied her, as if trying to memorize every freckle on her nose.
A streetlamp behind him glowed soft and yellow, yet threw his face into shadow. He looked dark and intense with a powerful masculinity, and she wished for someplace private so that she could explore every inch of him.
Streamers unfurled in her belly as he drew her close, inside the warmth of his open jacket so that she was pressed against his chest.
He caught her face in his hands and lowered his head…and met her lips with his.
The reverence in his kiss left her breathless. He explored as if wanting to get to know her more from the kiss. He lightly bit her bottom lip and she made a soft sound of surprise and pleasure.
He slid his palms from her face, down her neckline until he reached her open jacket. He moved his palms down her sides, lightly skimming the curves of her breasts, then gripped her waist in his big hands.
His scent filled her and she thought she could never get enough of him. No, she knew she could never get enough of this man.
Was it too soon to be falling for him? Could it be because she’d known him so long? Respected him, admired him, and enjoyed what time she’d had around him?
Or was it just this moment?
Did it matter?
Neither of them seemed to want to break the kiss. Dara’s mind whirled and she leaned into him more fully.
When Jack broke the kiss, Dara sank into him and pressed her face against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled the top of her head.
“You take my breath away.” The low rumble of his words filled her.
“I seem to be having difficulty catching my breath, too.” She tipped her head to look at him. “I think I just saw fireworks.”
“I know I did.” He captured her lips again in another gentle yet intense kiss.
This time when he raised his head, she thought she might not be able to stand by herself, much less walk.
He hugged her, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I like the way you feel close to me, Dara.”
“It feels good,” she said softly. Actually, that was an understatement. It felt amazing.
Jack drew back and brushed his lips over hers before wrapping his arm around her shoulders and keeping her close to his side.
Dara had a hard time thinking past Jack. It was hard to believe that here she was, with him, when days ago she hadn’t known he would walk into her life like this.
“You ready to go home?” he asked. “It’s still early.”
“I’m enjoying this too much to want to go home.” She smiled. “But I do have hot chocolate and we can watch a movie.”
He squeezed her to him. “I promise I don’t want anything more than to spend time with you tonight. I’d also like to see your artwork.”
“Jack, if there’s one thing I’m certain of,” she said, “is that you’re an honorable man. You don’t need to promise me anything. I trust you.”
* * *
On their way to Dara’s home, Jack knew his thoughts wouldn’t have been considered honorable. It was hard not to imagine being with her in every way possible.
It was too soon for both of them to take things that far.
Still, he couldn’t help thinking about it.
When they reached her door, Dara fumbled with the key when she tried sliding it into the lock. He took the key from her and unlocked the door before opening it and letting her walk inside, onto a rug on the hardwood floor.
Jack handed her the keys and Dara set them on a stained glass plate on a stand in the entryway.
“Did you make the plate?” He helped her out of her jacket.
She hung it on a coat hook beside the door. “It was one of my first projects in creating faux stained glass pieces.”
“I like it.” He took off his own jacket and put it on the hook, next to hers.
She inclined her head toward a doorway. “Come on into the kitchen. Do you like Mexican mocha?”
“One of my favorite cool weather drinks,” he said.
She smiled over her shoulder before she turned and he followed her. They walked into the homey kitchen, which showed touches of Dara everywhere. On the other side of a counter was a cozy living room.
He leaned with his back against the countertop as he watched her get out a saucepan, milk, and a box of Abuelita Mexican mocha.
Her home felt comfortable as she made the drink. “Mom used to make Mexican mocha when I was just a little a kid,” she said. “I was so young—only three—that sometimes I wonder if I’ve made up the memories.” She shook her head. “But this one is so clear.”
Jack braced one hand on the counter. “I seem to remember Andy starting school in Prescott when we were sixteen.”
“That sounds about right.” Dara stirred the mixture. “Dad moved us to Arizona from New Mexico after our mom died. I was too young to know those things, but looking back I think he wanted a new start.”
Jack thought about his current home, which he’d built for the same reason.
“Andy was mad because he was the star of the high school’s basketball team and he didn’t want to leave. Of course he did well here.” Dara poured the mixture into two mugs before she added a cinnamon stick to each. “But it was a lot harder on him than me.”
The mug she handed to Jack had Drink like dwarves, smoke like wizards, sing like elves, party like hobbits. Hers had My vacation home is a hobbit hole, wit
h a colorful image of one on the opposite side.
“Careful, it’s hot.” She held her mug close to her lips and blew on the mocha. “One of my favorite winter drinks ever.”
He watched her sipping hers before drinking from his own mug. He winced. Yeah, it was hot. Next time he blew on it before taking a sip.
“I made homemade cookies this morning.” She set her mug beside the stove and pulled out a handmade cookie jar shaped and painted like a hobbit hole with a round green door. She took off the lid. “Chocolate chip or snickerdoodle?”
“I’d like both if you don’t mind.”
“Your wish is my command.” She opened a cabinet.
She brought out a small plate before piling cookies on it. She handed the plate to him. “Can you set this on the coffee table, please?”
He carried the cookies and his mug into the living room.
Something black streaked by and almost tripped him. A cat.
“Satan!” Dara said. “Watch out.”
Jack looked over his shoulder at Dara. “You named your cat, Satan?”
Dara shrugged. “Suits him.”
He faced her. “My Australian cattle dog is Demon.”
Her laughter did funny things to his gut. “Nothing like an evil pet, is there?”
“Nothing at all.”
Jack sat on the small couch in front of the coffee table, which faced a good-sized flat screen TV. He rested his mug and the plate of cookies on the table’s glossy surface. He intentionally hadn’t given Dara much room on either side of him. One way or another, he intended to keep her close.
She shook her head but smiled as she looked at him and the couch. “Sneaky.”
“Not so sneaky.” He patted the cushion on his right. “Have a seat, honey.”
Dara placed her mug on the end table beside the couch. She kicked her shoes off and nudged them under the coffee table. A feeling of contentment flowed over her as she settled next to him and he put his arm around her shoulders.
Satan jumped up onto the back of the couch and started playing with Dara’s hair. “Beat it, Satan,” she said, but in a teasing voice. She pulled the hair tie off and threw it onto the rug in front of the TV.
Wild for You Page 4