Staring across the acres of fields that made up his backyard, I pretended to think it over, even though I already knew my answer. I wouldn’t be saying that. But that wasn’t the case. I had no right to be feeling the way I did about her.
“I don’t know,” I lied. “And it doesn’t matter, because as far as we know, she is.”
“Hope you didn’t start without us,” Roger called out as he walked around the corner of the house, finally arriving. He had a six-pack of Miller in hand, but what I hadn’t expected to see in his other hand was Tina, Devin’s assistant at the vet clinic. Glancing over at Wes, I gave him a questioning look. He only smiled and shrugged. Obviously, I’d been out of the loop on what had been going on with our buddy Roger, too consumed by my own crap.
“How long has that been going on?” I asked Wes as Tina separated from Roger and headed to greet the girls. Roger strolled over to the cooler that was sitting on the back porch, adding his six-pack to it before grabbing himself one and popping the top open.
“Awhile,” Wes answered.
“And neither of you bothered to mention anything to me?”
“I told you about their first date.”
“When?” I asked a few seconds before Roger had joined us at the grill.
Roger shook Wes’s hand first and then extended it to me. “What’s with the look?” he asked me as we shook.
“What?” I said as we released hands. “I don’t have a look.”
“Oh, you definitely have a look,” he stated and then looked over at Wes. “Doesn’t he have a look?”
Wes grinned, lifting his beer to his mouth, taking a quick sip. “He’s got lots of looks these days.”
Ignoring Wes’s comment, I asked Roger, “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Tina?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged and parried back, “Why didn’t you tell me about you and Conley?”
“Because there’s nothing to tell,” I insisted.
“That’s not the word on the street,” he goaded, then exchanged a knowing look with Wes as the two of them chuckled like two teenage girls.
“A bunch of gossiping women. That’s what you two might as well be,” I grumbled before finishing the last of my beer and walking away.
“You know that’s his way of saying he really likes this one,” Roger said to Wes loud enough for me to hear.
My stomach clenched at the truth of Roger’s words, making me regret draining the last of my beer so quickly.
“Hey, grab me one while you’re at it?” Wes yelled at my back.
Flipping my middle finger over my shoulder, I responded, “It’s my night off. Get your own damn beer.”
Their laughter followed behind me, drawing the ladies’ attention to us. And despite my annoyance with my friends, when Conley’s eyes met mine, I couldn’t help but smile at her. When she smiled back, that familiar connection we’d always had passing between us, I only hoped she couldn’t see straight through me the way Wes and Roger could.
“Three Jacks,” Conley said, laying three cards face down onto the growing pile in the center of the table. Silent looks flew across the table between everyone, while we checked the cards in our hands. It’d caught us all by surprise how well Conley could bluff. If we’d been playing for money, she’d have cleaned us all plumb out.
“You’re crazy,” Roger finally huffed with a shake of his head.
“Am I crazy?” she teased, a wide grin splitting her face, egging him on. “You calling me on it?”
Everyone’s eyes bounced between the two of them, like we were watching them face-off in an intense tennis match for the win at the U.S. Open.
“Hell, no!” he finally said. “I’m not as crazy as you.”
“You hear that?” Her eyes jumped to me. “He thinks I’m crazy. Do you think I’m crazy?”
Without thinking, I slipped my hand around her shoulder and dragged her over. “You’re my kind of crazy,” I said on a chuckle. Then instinctively, I kissed the top of her head as she leaned farther into me, pressing her hand to my chest. She stared up at me with that sweet smile of hers. My heart thudded against my chest as I stared back, wanting to dip my head and kiss her soft, pink lips instead.
Someone at the table cleared their throat, and we jumped apart. Looking over at the others, I saw a mixture of smiles and curious eyes as they all watched us.
“Whose turn is it?” I asked, trying to divert their attention from Conley and me, while mentally chiding myself. What the hell was I doing?
“Mine,” Tina spoke up as she placed her card face down over Conley’s three. “One, nine,” she said, keeping her eyes down and on the remaining cards in her hand.
Roger grinned, glancing at all of us before sliding his eyes over to her. “Bull-shit,” he said, dragging out the word slowly.
“Damn it!” She swatted him on the arm, making us all laugh. “I hate you,” she grumbled, reaching for the large stack of cards in the middle that now belonged to her. Whereas Conley made bluffing into an art, Tina had zero skills and thus had been called out about every single time she played her turn.
“Oh, come on, baby,” Roger said, pulling her into his arms as she continued to organize nearly half the deck of cards into her existing hand. “You don’t mean that.” He kissed her on the cheek, and she playfully shoved him away.
The game continued around the table with the six of us laughing and giving each other shit until Conley finally laid her last card. “One queen,” she said and waited for anyone who dared to call BS on her.
I glanced down at the few cards in my hand, not finding a single queen in it.
“Fuck it,” Wes said after a long pause. “Nothing to lose, right? I call bullshit, Ms. Logan.”
Smile wide on her face, she flipped over the card to reveal the queen of hearts. “Read’em and weep, Monroe.”
“Well, hell.” He threw down the last of his hand on the table. “Remind me never to play poker with this woman.” He pointed a finger at her, talking to nobody in particular, then swept all the cards that were spread out over the table into a neat pile. “You guys up for another round?”
Conley’s eyes dropped to the watch on her wrist. “Actually, I hate to be the party-pooper, but I should be going. I’ve gotta help my dad with some stuff in the morning,” she said as she stood. “Devin and Wes, thank you so much for the food and letting me crash your game night.”
“Anytime,” Devin said. “And don’t forget, me and you have a girls’ date soon.”
“I can’t wait.”
Everyone stood along with Conley, readying themselves to give her a hug and tell her bye. When it came to my turn, her eyes shot to mine, waiting for me to lead in the hug.
“I’ll walk with you. I’m heading out too,” I said, then turned to Wes and the others and proceeded to say my goodbyes while Conley waited near the front door for me. I was thankful nobody gave me a hard time about my timely exit. Once we were out the front door, we walked side by side toward our separate cars. A cool night breeze swept across us, tossing her hair in a swirl around her face. She reached up, gathering it all to one side, holding it in place, exposing the beautiful line of her neck.
“What are you working on with your dad?” I asked, breaking the silence, hoping to get my mind off how beautiful she looked under the moonlight.
“Some signs and banners for the church booth at the chili cook-off.”
“You want some help?”
“Depends on the help.” She looked over at me with a playful expression.
“Hypothetically, let’s say me.”
“Oh, well, if we are just saying hypothetically, then…” She released her hair, tucking her hands in her back pockets. “I’d love that. But I thought you’d be working.”
I shrugged. “We don’t open until noon and thought I might see if Melanie wanted the extra shift. As long as we’re done before the Friday night rush…”
“Okay, then. I’ve got some errands to run beforehand. If you want to
tag along, I can pick you up in the morning.”
“Works for me.” As we reached the driver’s side of her car, I wrapped an arm around her shoulders to give her a side hug. “Night, Con.”
Both of her arms folded around my waist as she pulled me closer, hugging me to her. We both lingered in the embrace, my heart racing and my lungs finding it hard to breathe from being wrapped in the comforting warmth of her body. The scent of her shampoo filled my nose, and for a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy the feeling of having her in my arms.
“Thanks for inviting me tonight,” she finally said, dropping her arms and stepping away. “I had a great time. They’re a good group of people. You’re lucky to have them as friends.”
“Yeah, they’re tolerable.”
She giggled, giving me a tiny nudge on the shoulder with her fist. “You’re tolerable.” She opened her door and slid into the seat. “See you in the morning?”
I nodded. “I’ll text you my address.”
“Okay.”
“Drive safe,” I said, closing the door for her and stepping out of the way so she could back up. I watched her drive off until the taillights had been swallowed by a cloud of dust from the long, dirt driveway that wound through the Monroe fields to the main highway.
With a stupid smile curving my lips, I dug out the keys in my front pocket and climbed into my truck, driving the whole way home with the damn thing plastered on my face.
12
Conley
Easing my foot off the gas pedal and onto the brake, I slowed my car to a stop at the street curb. After putting it in park, I double checked the address Tim had texted me last night. The house sitting in front of me was huge. Not million-dollar-home huge, like the mansions you’d find in Los Angeles, but huge by Billingsley standards.
It was a Texas-size home with small-town charm. Most of the homes in this neighborhood had been built in the twenties. Many of them were a fixer upper’s dream come true. Tim’s house appeared to have already undergone the renovation process.
Climbing out of the car, I took in every detail spreading out in front of me, from the sidewalk that led to the huge front porch, to the well-manicured yard, to the gray-painted siding trimmed in white. I walked up the sidewalk toward the vintage red brick steps that rose to a wooden porch with a picturesque swing on the right end. Tapping my knuckles on the craftsman-style door, I waited with anxious energy, letting my eyes travel around some more.
The door flung open, causing me to jolt and my gaze to dart to the half-dressed man in front of me. His jeans hung low on his waist as droplets of water fell from the ends of his short hair, slowly making their descent down his chiseled chest and abs that were decorated with a few tattoos. The vision of him was even better than what I’d been dreaming about every night for the last month. A tingling sensation spread through my body like wildfire as I took him in.
“Sorry,” he said in a rush, pulling a gray T-shirt over his head, stealing away the view I’d been practically drooling over. “I’m running a little behind. Pops called, and I lost track of time.” He shoved a hand through the wet strands, seeming a little flustered. The movement gave me a whiff of the fresh smell of his soap, making me want to lean in closer for more.
“No problem,” I said, hoping the heat climbing up my body didn’t make its way to my cheeks.
“You want to come in? I just need to do a few things, and then I’ll be ready.”
I nodded, stepping inside and moving out of the way as he closed the door behind me. I scanned the surrounding area—the beautifully re-finished wood floors, the freshly painted light gray walls and thick white trim, and the thoughtfully selected pendant that hung overhead.
“So, uh…just make yourself at home,” he said, moving around me and taking a few backward steps toward a hallway off the entry. “The living room is here”—he signaled to the right—“and from there it leads into the kitchen, if you need some coffee or something.”
“Wow…” I looked around some more, stepping out of the grand entryway and through the large cased opening into an oversized living room. Everything was as immaculately kept and as beautiful as the outside of the home. “This is not what I expected. I expected more of your stereotypical bachelor pad. Dudley’s must do well,” I teased, grinning over my shoulder at him.
He frowned a little at my comment. “Uh. Yeah… Sure,” he said, sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “We do okay, but—”
A small meow interrupted whatever else he was about to say. The soft fur of a cat brushed up against my leg. “Oh, my gosh! You have a cat.” I bent to scratch behind its ears. It meowed again, pressing its head firmer against my hand, begging for more. “He looks just like Mr. Pickles.”
“Yep. Turns out Mr. Pickles was a ladies’ man,” he said, grinning proudly about the rescue cat he’d had when we were younger. “That’s PJ.”
“PJ? As in...”
“Pickles Jr.”
I laughed, giving PJ one more good scratch before standing upright again. The cat immediately abandoned my side and sauntered over to Tim, where it threw itself down dramatically, rubbing its head against his bare feet.
Tim gave PJ a quick rub and then took another step back toward the hallway. “I’m just going to get my shoes and brush my teeth. You good?”
“Yep. Don’t mind me. I plan to just snoop around.”
A smile twitched on his lips. “Okay, then. Be done in a few,” he said, then turned, heading down the hall to where I assumed his bedroom was.
Not wanting to let my mind wander to thoughts of his bed, I instead wandered through his living room. I took in the minimalist design, while running my hand along the back of the leather couch that sat facing a wood-burning fireplace. Bookshelves flanked each side of the mantle. Instead of knickknacks and photos filling every inch, there were tons of actual books, a few plants, and only two photos. I read over the spines of the books, curious what he’d been reading. Most were non-fiction books on various subjects, a few fiction thrillers, and a couple travel books. My eyes fell to the photos, both of which were of him and his dad. The first one was when Tim was younger and the second was the two of them smiling wide while standing outside under the neon Dudley’s sign. My heart swelled a little more for the man as I picked it up to study it closer.
Their affection for each other was obvious by their expressions in the picture. For maybe the first time, I think I finally understood why Tim gave up his dream to carry out his father’s.
A throat cleared behind me. Quickly putting the picture back, I spun to face Tim. “Sorry. I was just—”
“It’s fine,” he said, his lips tilting into a half-grin. “You ready to go? I didn’t have time to eat, so I was hoping we could stop at Ida’s Bakery on the way.”
“Of course.” I took one more quick glance around, wishing I’d had more time to explore his home, then followed him back into the entry and out the door.
Tim held the door for me as I stepped inside the bakery. The smell of fresh-baked goods and coffee floated through the air. Ida’s was another local favorite off the main square. It sat a few doors down from Kathy’s Cafe and Lottie and Hannah’s clothing store, which I reminded myself I still needed to check out.
My shoulder brushed Tim’s arm as he stepped up beside me to wait in line for our turn to order. Each time the line slowly moved, his hand would gently touch the small of my back, ushering me forward. Despite knowing it was likely a subconscious gesture, I couldn’t stop the chills he elicited with each touch. I couldn’t help wanting him to touch me more.
“What are you getting?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence we’d been in when we were next in line to order.
“A cinnamon roll. What else?”
“What else?” he asked, his head tipping to the side and mouth falling open. “How ‘bout the lemon poppyseed muffins, for one.”
I scrunched up my nose.
“Don’t give me that look. Have you ever had them?�
�
“No. Because any sane person knows that there is no match for Ida’s cinnamon rolls.”
“Oh? Now I’m the crazy one, huh?” He reached to pinch my side, teasingly.
I giggled, stepping out of his reach while trying to deflect his hand away. In one swift move, his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him. Shocked, I glanced up to his face, only to find his eyes on someone else.
“Sorry, ma’am,” he said, smiling and giving a gentle nod. “That was my fault.”
I looked over at the elderly woman he was speaking to—my cheeks flushing, my heart racing— and gave her my own apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
She grinned back at us, despite my having nearly bumped into her and knocking her coffee out of her hand. “Ah, young love. I remember those days...” she trailed off, walking away before either of us could correct her.
I buried my face in his shirt from embarrassment. Tim’s throaty chuckle rang out over my head, turning more eyes our direction.
“Come on, clumsy. It’s our turn to order,” he said, loosening his hold on me slightly, but keeping a hand on my hip as he stepped us up to the counter.
We placed our orders and then grabbed a table near the window.
“So, what’s on the agenda?” he asked before taking a huge bite out of his lemon poppyseed muffin.
“Art supplies. And then we’ll head to the church to make the signs. My dad had something come up, so it’ll just be the two of us.”
He nodded, taking a sip of his black coffee. “So, what you’re saying is, as it turns out you need my help.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help when it comes to art.” I took a bite of my cinnamon roll and then licked the frosting off my finger.
Tim’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his eyes on my lips as I popped my finger out of my mouth and grinned.
Tempting Tim: A Small Town Friends to Lovers Romance (Billingsley Book 4) Page 11