A teasing amusement lightened his face and quirked his lips. Her stomach tumbled.
“I really did hear something.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward the dense woods again. “I don’t want to get eaten by a pig.”
“No, but I bet you’d be delicious.” While his voice teased, his blue eyes smoldered.
What did he mean by that? Her head told her he hadn’t meant to imply anything, while her body thrummed. The memory of their kisses flamed her body. She drew her hands into fists. They wanted to take hold of his shirt and pull him close. Her arms wanted to wrap around his broad shoulders, and her lips wanted to brush over his smiling mouth. It was a compulsion she barely kept in check.
Instead, she slid her phone out of her back pocket. No service. “I need to get back. Ms. Evelyn is going to kill me.”
“No, she’ll just lecture you for hours.”
“Even worse,” she quipped.
He mounted the ATV, and she slipped behind him without a prompt. The machine growled to life, and they did a slow turn before he hit the throttle and sent them hurtling down the path with wild recklessness. Her body to curl tightly around his, and she allowed her hands free reign while she had the excuse. Too soon, the old bridge was in sight.
Kicking into high gear once they were safely on the other side, they sped across the field, the tall grass bending to let them pass. He stopped at Ada’s front steps. She didn’t want to let him go, didn’t want to get off. Evelyn hustled out the door, hands on hips.
“You want to come in for some tea?” Darcy propped her chin on his shoulder, her mouth close to his ear.
“I’d rather face a wild pig.” An echo of his teasing amusement returned.
“Okay. Well.” She climbed off and bit her lip, searching for something non-idiotic to say. “I’ll see you tonight. For our fake date. Got to put on a show for the town, don’t we?”
“I’ve got some stuff to do in town so I’ll meet you there if you don’t mind.”
She nodded, but he didn’t look at her. The engine revved, and the ATV shot away. The tall grass wavered like water in his wake.
11
Showered and wearing a T-shirt and jeans, Robbie headed to The Tavern. His foot eased off the accelerator as he passed Miss Ada’s. Darcy’s car was still out front. He narrowed his eyes as if he could see through the walls, but nothing moved.
Not for the first time, he reminded himself these were fake dates. Fake. Not real. Except, the more time he spent with Darcy, the more real they felt. He didn’t need to fake the ease that coursed through him around her or the attraction that nearly brought him to his knees. On their ride back from the old house, her soft body curved against his back had him gunning the ATV before he could do something foolish like pull her around to straddle him.
And as if controlling the physical attraction wasn’t hard enough, she had to go and carve his name under hers. As proof he’d been there, proof he existed. She didn’t know anything about him. Not really. Yet, even now, hours later, her sweetness resonated through him like aftershocks.
Regulars crowded the bar. Claiming a stool, Robbie whistled for Logan. “The kitchen open?”
Logan grinned and propped his hands on the edge of the bar. “A limited menu, but for you, my friend, anything. Where’s Darcy?”
“She’s meeting me here. Burger and fries. And a beer.”
“Coming right up.” Logan passed a slip to the nearest waitress and pulled a long-necked beer out of ice. “All you have to do is dance a couple of times. Convince people something is heating up between the two of you. It’s not a suicide mission.”
“Maybe I should be drinking Kamikazes.”
“I realize Darcy’s not your type, but she turned into a decently attractive woman. Believe me, it was not looking promising there for a couple of years.”
“Decently attractive? She’s damn near gorgeous,” Robbie said before thinking. He took a pull on his beer to avoid the question in Logan’s eyes, then plunked the bottle back on the bar and narrowed his eyes. “Wait, what’s my type?”
“Vapid beautiful shells. The kind you walk away from and forget. That’s not Darcy.”
It’s not like he sought out vapid shells to date. They sought him out, and as he had never been looking to settle down, he . . . settled. His gaze strayed to the door as he killed the beer.
Logan replaced it with another and whispered, “Watch yourself.”
Shelia approached with swinging hips and a dark liquor drink. Beyond her, Rick leaned on the corner of the bar nursing a beer, his gaze glued to Sheila. The woman was no doubt a beauty, but more viper than vapid.
“Hey Coach, you looking for some company?”
“I’m meeting someone,” he said.
Her smile faltered, and her eyes flared. “Alec Grayson joining you?”
“Nope. Darcy Wilde.”
“Darcy—” She dropped any pretense of seduction. She emptied her glass in three swallows and tossed her hair over her shoulder. A cloying musky perfume tickled his nose.
Robbie tipped his beer up and nearly choked on the first cold swallow. Darcy stepped through the door. Jeans encased her lithe legs. Heeled black boots put her at a respectable height. A tight, sleeveless, light pink shirt complemented her complexion, and the deep vee set off her cleavage. Her hair was pulled back in a low, sleek ponytail.
Her gaze met his for a single blistering second before she averted her face, rubbed her hands down her legs, and headed for a table in the middle of the room. A brief chat with the waitress garnered her a beer. She took a few sips and then pulled and scraped at the sweating label. Vultures gathered. Two men stared at her from the sidelines and planned their attack.
Logan settled a plate of food in front of Robbie and jerked his head toward Darcy. Robbie turned to the side in order to eat and keep his eyes on her. Unfortunately, Sheila took his move as an invitation to hang around.
Sheila leaned back against the bar, her breasts thrust out. “Darcy Wilde is trouble.”
The first bite of burger settled in his stomach like a giant, tasteless wad of gum. The two men had worked up their strategy and slid into seats at the table. Darcy sat up a little straighter and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear.
“Why do you say that?” Robbie gave Sheila only a fraction of his concentration.
“Her mama got around, and I’ve heard tell the apple didn’t fall far.”
Robbie’s attention was on Darcy. Her conversation with the two men had the ease of old acquaintances, not strangers. Both of them wanted her. Legs braced apart, they leaned over the table vying for her attention. The burger burned a path up his throat.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear, Sheila, and you sure as shit shouldn’t repeat it.” His jab hit home. Her hair brushed his arm on her turn, and she retreated to the stool by Rick. Robbie was relieved he could direct all his focus on Darcy.
Distress straightened her back and tightened her mouth. Neither man had touched her, but she was either upset or pissed as hell. Pink to match her shirt burned up her chest and into her cheeks. Maybe it was unconscious, but she sought him with her eyes and the turn of her body.
He slid off the stool. In the same moment, she rose. Their gazes latched, and she weaved through the tables toward him.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She shifted on her feet and brushed her hand all the way down her swinging ponytail.
He almost called bullshit but tempered his response. “You look upset.”
“I’m not.”
“You are. Tell me why.”
Her lashes dropped, and with a slight, fake laugh, she said, “You can’t escape the past, can you?”
It was a question he couldn’t answer. His past hovered too close for comfort. Her gaze meandered back to his, and he wanted to punch the men who had filled her blue eyes with sadness.
Logan ambled over. “Well . . .” he said, waving his hands leadingly.
“What?” Darcy and Robbie said together.
“For the love of Pete, get out there and dance. You two are hopeless.” Logan threw his hands up and went to the jukebox. A slow, sexy country song dampened the bar’s raucous laughter.
“Might as well do this.” The need to pound heads cut his words with rude aggression. He took a deep breath and offered his hand.
“You really know how to turn a girl’s head, don’t you?” She ignored the hand.
“Come on.” Stiff legs carried him to the dance floor.
She didn’t follow. Instead, she folded her arms under her breasts and popped her hip. He raised his eyebrows and gestured her forward with two fingers. If she didn’t get her sweet butt on the dance floor, he’d spank it and thoroughly enjoy himself. Hell, he’d make sure she enjoyed it to.
Robbie didn’t want to want her this bad.
Logan muttered something in her ear, prompting her to move. Otherwise, she would have left him hanging. With a mulish expression he’d seen Miss Ada wear more than once, Darcy joined him. Even in her heels, she was shorter than him. His hands circled her waist, and hers lay on the curves of his shoulders. Heat burned through thin cotton, belying her soft touch.
Not trusting himself to speak, he concentrated on not allowing his hands to roam, not allowing his arms to pull her close, not allowing his face to drop to her honey-suckled hair.
“First the flattery and now the scintillating conversation. The onslaught of your charm is overwhelming me. Let me start. How’s your game plan coming along?” Her tone mocked him, but he didn’t care.
“Fine.” Which also described the view down the deep vee of her shirt, the pink lace of her bra peeking around the edge. He fought the urge to pull the scrap aside with his teeth.
“What do you think our chances are next Friday?”
“Fair to middling.” Which was also the chance he’d lose his sanity before the dance ended.
“Have you kept up your reading? What do you think?”
“I like it.” His gaze fastened on her mouth, painted with a light pink gloss.
“What about Atticus?”
“Honorable man.” Which, based on the direction of his thoughts, did not describe him.
Their gazes scattered in opposite directions, their bodies’ swaying movements disconnected. Mercifully, the song ended, and Darcy shot toward the ladies’ room.
Robbie retreated to the bar to finish his beer, warm and unsatisfying.
“What in holy hell was that?” Logan’s voice had risen an octave, disbelief writ across his face.
“We danced. What are you complaining about?”
“You danced with her like you think girls have cooties. If anything, you cemented the rumors. You looked afraid, freaked out . . . I don’t know. You need to dance like you want her naked in your bed. Can’t you pretend or something?”
If his control wasn’t so tenuous, he might have laughed. “I suppose I could . . . or something.”
“There’s another slow song coming. Take one for the team, Dalt.”
At least she wasn’t in a dress. He wouldn’t be tempted to lay her over a table for all to see. That would dispel the rumors faster than a hiccup.
She returned from the bathroom with her gaze downcast. He met her at the edge of the dancefloor and grabbed her hand. This time he pressed her close, her breasts soft against his chest, and skated his hand to the top of her ass. He notched his thigh between hers and shuffled them to the pulsing beat of the music.
Three other couples swayed alongside them. The sideways looks were not lost on him, but the sweet curves of her body fuzzed them out.
“What’re you doing?” Her arms circled his neck, and her breath puffed across his jaw.
“Logan said you acted like I had cooties. You need to be more convincing.”
Her throat convulsed. “What should I do?”
Her question was loaded. He wanted her to peel off her clothes. He wanted her to drop to her knees and relieve his raging need. His hand smoothed over her buttock and squeezed. “Stay close. Act seductive. Pretend like you want me in your bed.”
His eyes closed at the skim of her lips along his jaw. She nuzzled her nose against his. Her lips teased him, close yet not touching his. He shifted forward to take her mouth, but her lips moved out of reach, across his cheekbone to land on his temple.
“How’s this?” Her lips moved against his skin.
His pulse throbbed against the warmth of her mouth. Even knowing he deserved to be horsewhipped, he said, “Pitiful. Try harder.”
She nosed into the hair above his ear and inhaled. When she caught his ear lobe in her teeth, his dick expanded like an exploding star. Her hips circled, grinding against his leg.
The woman was driving him insane, but he only had himself to blame. Or maybe she was as lost in the thrumming attraction as he was and equally as powerless to stop the inferno. Maybe she wasn’t faking it either.
“Do your panties match your sexy pink bra?”
What had possessed him to ask? Nuzzling her temple, he took a breath. Her scent wove around him and spurred his heart. Her back arched, and he dipped to lay a kiss on the throbbing pulse on her neck.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Her husky voice was teasing.
Hell yes, he would. He smiled. Something he had done more around her than he had in the last year. Unable to stop himself, he asked, “Were you thinking about me when you picked them out?”
Her hands curved under his shoulders and fisted his T-shirt. Her breasts pushed against his chest in rhythm with the erotic beat of the music. She didn’t shy away from him as he expected but looked up, her lips so close he could feel her quickened breaths. Her blue eyes were like the hottest part of a flame, melting his resistance.
He expected a tart response putting him in his place.
“Yes,” she whispered.
A wave of longing and lust shot through him, the combination more potent than any physical foreplay. He was through fighting. He wanted her in his bed.
For one night, he’d explore every curve, kiss every inch of her sweet skin. For one night, he’d reenact every dream that had left him aching and unsatisfied. For one night, he wanted her under him, her legs pulling him close and his name falling from her lips. He would face the nuclear fallout in the morning. He dropped his mouth a fraction closer, ready to claim her in front of the crowd that had gathered.
A fast tempo pop song jarred them both. He dropped his hands and stepped back. What the hell had he been thinking? One night would never satisfy him.
All around the room, eyes had fixed on them. Logan stood behind the bar with his mouth hanging open.
“I think that probably cinched it.” Robbie’s heart pounded, and his lungs worked as if he’d run around the building a couple of times. “Avery’s waiting to be let out. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“We shouldn’t hang out and dance again?” Her expression clouded, leaving her thoughts a mystery.
Another song and he’d have her pressed against a wall. “Not necessary.
Opening the door, he gestured her through first, the night humid and uncomfortable. His gaze dropped to her ass, and his hands twitched. She slid behind the wheel of her car and fumbled the key into the ignition.
Standing in the open car door, he said, “I’ll follow you. Make sure you get home safe.”
“I can make it fine. By the way—” She rummaged in her passenger seat and then jabbed the corner of a rectangular package dangerously close to his aching balls. “Picture frame. To replace the one I broke.”
Rough wood grain wrinkled the thin paper. “Thank you. I—” The soft blue of her eyes stole his thought. “G’nite.”
With a small wave, she closed her door and was out of sight before he even made it to his truck.
Her car was sitting in front of Miss Ada’s when he drove by. He slowed but didn’t stop.
Her breathless answers and sweet body on the dance floor made his chest tighten wit
h regret. Why hadn’t he kissed her when he’d had the excuse?
12
Darcy shut the house door, leaned against it, and closed her eyes. Her stomach churned with arousal and embarrassment. The potent combination had bile creeping up her throat. The two men that had approached her table had assumed she’d be up for a goodtime based on new rumors circulating about her. Who had started them and why?
Her dirty dance with Robbie had probably squashed the rumors about him and added tinder to the ones circulating about her. A small price to pay. As soon as his hand had landed on her butt, she couldn’t have cared less who was watching them or how far they went.
Shaking her shoulders to clear the tension, she pasted a smile on her face and walked to the den. The wide-eyed worry on Kat’s face made Darcy stop in the doorway, her gaze pinging between Kat and Ada. “What’s wrong?”
“I was getting ready to text you,” Kat said. “I think Miss Ada is running a fever, but she won’t let me take her temperature.”
Darcy took Ada’s hands. It could be anything. A virus, a summer cold . . .
Bright splashes on Ada’s cheeks colored an otherwise pale face, but more than that, Ada was in pain. Her grandmother’s slitted eyes and the tight pull of her mouth had Darcy turning back to Kat. “Call an ambulance.”
Kat pulled out her phone and retreated to the foyer. Darcy turned to Ada. “Does your hip hurt?”
“My left one. It’s been sore for a few days now,” Ada admitted with reluctance.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ada’s shrug was teenager-like. Darcy laid the back of her hand on her grandmother’s forehead. A dry heat radiated. Kat clutched her phone to her chest in the doorway and nodded to Darcy.
Did Darcy look as shaken and scared as Kat? She tried to school her face into calm confidence. “We’re going to get you to the hospital where they’ll probably pump you full of antibiotics, and you’ll feel better by morning.”
“Will they let me come home? I don’t want to die at the hospital.”
Slow and Steady Rush: Sweet Home Alabama Page 13