Читать книгу Fast, Furious and Forbidden - Alison Kent - Страница 8

“C’MON, WHIP. What did she say?”

“Yeah, man. Don’t leave us hanging.”

“I tell ya. That little gal can whisper sweet nothings in my ear anytime she wants. ’Course I’d have to explain to the wife that whispering was the only thing going on.”

“Look at yourself, Sunshine. Now look at that little gal. You’d have a hard time convincing anybody that something more was.”

While the wolf whistles accompanied Cardin to the kitchen, the digs, jabs and good ol’ boy ridicule continued around the table. Ignoring the noise, Trey watched over the heads of dozens of customers, his gaze following her until she pushed through the swinging saloon doors, her dark ponytail bobbing as she crossed behind the order window and disappeared from sight.

Only then did he think about breathing again, or respond to the ribbing his crew members were killing themselves over. The group of men he worked with were also his friends. He could take whatever they dished out, could dish it right back, tit for tat.

But he had absolutely no intention of repeating what Cardin had said to anyone, dead or alive. Not when he was about to find out why she’d come to see him the other day at the hauler.

He set down his beer mug, wiped his mouth and hands on one of the towelettes Headlights provided, then slapped the table and got to his feet. “If you boys will ’scuse me, some unexpected business has just come up. I’ll catch up with y’all later.”

“What kind of business would that be, coming up?”

“Sure you don’t need some help with whatever it is?”

“Holler if you do. The wife’s pretty understanding when it comes to helping out a friend.”

“I know your wife, Sunshine. I don’t think she’d be anything close to understanding about you helping out yourself.”

Trey waved one hand and ignored the lot of ’em, winding his way through the tables, dodging serving trays and customers and kids running wild. Kenny Chesney on the jukebox singing about his sexy tractor added to the din. He wanted to catch Cardin before she ditched him for work; with a crowd this rowdy, he figured that scenario was seconds from coming to pass.

At the swinging doors, he gave a smile to the waitress with the big mouth and big hair who told him he wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. He looked toward the grill, the fryers, the freezer, the fridge, searching for Cardin…nothing. Staff scurried like ants on a hill, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Her father was, however.

“Hello, Whip.” Eddie Worth was as tall as Trey, as strong as Trey, and sixteen years more clever. His eyes saw all. His keen wit missed nothing. He wasn’t anyone a smart man messed with.

“Hello, Eddie.” Trey shook Cardin’s father’s hand. It was hard to know what else to say when Eddie was obviously well aware of what had brought Trey into the back. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been fine.” He held on to Trey’s hand as he added, “Sorry to hear about your dad.”

Though his dad was the one who’d put Eddie in the hospital and there wasn’t any love there lost, Trey acknowledged the condolence with a nod. He’d had six months to put it behind him. “Thanks. It was, uh, rough there for a bit, dealing with the funeral and all.”

“But things are better now?”

Another nod. It was an easier response than explaining what he needed to make things even better than they were.

“That’s good. That’s good.” Eddie crossed his arms, a dish towel slung over one shoulder. “And I hear you’re going to get your place ready to sell?”

Another something Eddie no doubt thought was good. Trey stood his ground. “This economy, it might take awhile, but holding on to it doesn’t make much sense considering I’m never here.”

He imagined his never being here was also to Eddie’s liking. Trey was his father’s son after all.

“Well, I hope it all works out,” Eddie said, stepping back, but adding before he turned to go, “I guess you’re looking for Cardin?”

“I am. Yes, sir.”

“She’s out back.” Eddie gestured toward the door. “Took a load of trash to the Dumpster.”

“Thank you, sir. Good to see you again,” Trey said, then made his way to the exit, feeling the heat of Eddie’s gaze boring into his back. He’d deal with Eddie and Jeb and the cause of the fight with his father later. Right now, he had other things on his mind.

Outside, he found Cardin wrestling a huge black trash bag out of an equally huge gray plastic can. She didn’t notice him there, and as much as he wanted to help, he waited, looking on as she scrunched up her face and rocked the bag side to side, working to dislodge the items wedged against the sides of the container.

He watched the flex of muscles in her arms and shoulders, the tendons in her neck as she tugged. He watched her frustration mount, her frown deepen, her aggravation grow until disgust took its place.

She stopped then, blew a puff of air up at her bangs, stretched her back and groaned. She was still unaware of his presence. He knew that because when she swiped her wrist across her forehead and saw him leaning against the building, she straightened, stiffened and glared.

“How long have you been standing there?”

He liked that she wasn’t wearing her sunglasses this time. Her eyes were so blue, full of such life, and though he’d expected to see anger, he hadn’t been ready for the thrill he saw in them. He wondered if it was a reflection of his own.

“Well?” she prompted.

He pushed away from his perch. “Long enough to see that you could use some help.”

“Just not to offer it?” When he shrugged, she added, “In that case, I’m sorry I wasted the corn.”

“Trust me. The corn was no waste,” he said, making his way slowly to where she stood.

She watched him approach, her fingers tightening on the bag, crinkling the plastic, stretching it, piercing through. The set of her shoulders grew taut as he neared. Her pulse was visible in her throat. “Then brace this here so I can get the trash out and get back to work.”

He stopped in front of her, planted his palms on the can’s rim and used his weight as an anchor, leaning forward into her space. He smelled sunshine, sweat and cooking smoke, and wanted to be closer still. “This is certainly not the reception I was expecting.”

“Sorry.” She jerked the bag free, and hauled it toward her. “I’m not my best when surrounded by garbage.”

The trash in one hand, she climbed onto an empty crate, lifting the Dumpster lid and tossing the bag inside. Once again on the ground, she dusted her hands together, keeping the can between them as a buffer. “Thank you.”

Trey took a minute, cleared his throat. His mind’s eye was still looking up her short skirt and at her black panties. “Can we get to what you need now?”

He could’ve stepped around the can, shoved it to the side and out of the way. He could’ve reached for her the way she’d reached for him that day in the hauler, wrapped her close and finished what they’d left undone that night he’d pinned her against him as long as he could. But this ball was in her court, and he would play by her rules for now.

She considered him closely, dodging his question as if not sure how to answer, and asked him one of her own. “What made you decide to sell your place?”

He pushed up from the can to stand straight. “You heard about that, did you?”

“Everyone in town has heard about it. You know how Dahlia is.”

He knew well, and that was part of the reason he was cutting his ties. He was tired of everyone being in his business. “Dad’s gone now, and I spend most of my time on the road. I figured it was the best solution.”

“But then you won’t have a home.”

He ignored what looked like sadness—was it sympathy? Pity maybe?—in her eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Home is where the heart is. Isn’t that what they say?”

“Do you need help?”

He frowned. “What?”

“I’m happy to give you a hand. Packing, organizing, tossing out trash.” Her mouth twisted as she gestured over her shoulder with her thumb. “I’m good with trash.”

Huh. This wasn’t what he’d expected to hear when he’d decided to hunt her down. “Is that why you came to see me the other day? You’re offering to help me get things ready to sell?”

Again she avoided a straight answer. “I’ve seen your family’s place, Trey. That’s a lot of work for one person.”

She was right. Making order out of the chaos left behind at his childhood home was not a one-man job—not if that man didn’t want to spend an eternity living in his past. Not that it was such a bad place to be. He just liked the here and now a whole lot more.

As an only child with two working parents, he’d spent a lot of time with a sitter until he’d been old enough to stay alone. By the time he was twelve, his mother had split, leaving him and his father in each other’s care. He’d hated her for leaving, until he’d learned of his father’s indiscretion. Then he’d decided the hate was a waste since both of his parents had done wrong.

But he didn’t believe for a moment Cardin had him out here to talk about his plans for his property. “You’re welcome to help, but I gotta know. What’s behind the offer?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, affecting a frown that raised his suspicions not already at full mast.

“What do you want from me, Cardin?” he asked, taking hold of the lip of the can and spinning it out of the way, leaving the space between them filled only with a tension that lived and breathed. “Because I can’t imagine it’s the same thing I want from you—no matter the message you delivered with the corn.”

She licked her lips as she looked away, lifted her chin as she looked back. “If you take me up on my offer, you’ll find out, won’t you?”

Trey pulled in a deep breath, blew out a sigh. Her rules, he reminded himself. Her rules. And since he wasn’t getting anywhere today…“What about your hours here? Don’t you work pretty much full time?”

“I do, but I have connections.” Her smile punched him in the gut, and he was already aching. “The boss won’t mind scheduling around me.”

In that case, he wasn’t going to say no. “You wanna start tomorrow? I figured I’d tackle the outbuildings first. See what’s worth selling. Burn the rest, and haul what won’t burn to the dump.”

“Sure. I’ll talk to Jeb about using his truck. He gets a kick out of driving my Mini.”

Trey tried to picture the wide shoulders, six feet two inches, and prominent paunch of Cardin’s grandfather behind the wheel of her red Mini Cooper convertible and had not a bit of luck. “That I’d pay to see.”

“Then I’ll get him to quote you a price.”

Funny girl. He took a step toward her. “Say eight o’clock then? Or do you need more beauty sleep than that?”

“I’m okay on the beauty sleep, don’t you think?”

Cocky girl. A second step. “Could be you’ve had too much already. Could be an early morning would be good for you. Say…seven?”

“If I didn’t have so far to drive, we could get started at six.”

Brave girl. He took a third. “You looking to spend the night?”

“I might consider it,” she said, wetting her lips—and causing his head to blow a fuse.

Fuses elsewhere were inches from overload. “I’ve been at the track since I got here. I’m not sure there’s a mattress worth sleeping on at the house, but I do have a second sleeping bag in my gear.”

“Sounds great. We can stack them and spread them out. Or even zip them together.”

“Don’t toy with me, sweetheart.” Another step, and their thighs brushed. “I might think you’re actually of a mind to see to our unfinished business.”

“Do we have unfinished business?” she asked, backing away.

He followed. She stayed. “Cardin? Toying?”

“Now that you mention it, there is something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

“So ask me.” He was willing to give her any answer she wanted as long as it meant he could touch more of her, and do so with something other than his denim-covered thighs.

“It’s about Tater’s kegger.”

“What about it?” As if he didn’t know.

“When I saw you…” She let the sentence trail and backed into the rear wall of the ice house.

“With Kim?”

She nodded. “What were you thinking?”

Hands at his hips, he snorted. “There wasn’t much thinking going on there.”

“I know that, but I’ve always wondered if your mind wasn’t on me…instead of Kim.”

What was he supposed to say to that? Admit the truth? Tell her that he had trouble remembering that Kim had been there at all? That his mind saw only the look of fascination that had been on her face? That even now he could feel how firm her breasts, how hard her nipples had felt against his chest?

“I’m thinking about you now. That’s all that matters.” He pressed his body to hers finally—finally!—raising her hands and pinning them to the wall. Then he lowered his head and nuzzled his cheek to her jaw, finding her earlobe and nipping it, nipping it again when she groaned.

“It’s softer than I thought it would be. Your beard stubble.”

The last time they’d been this close, he’d been fresh from the shower. “I need to shave.”

“No. Don’t. Not until I get a chance to feel more.”

This time Trey was the one to groan. Two sleeping bags zipped together. Her skin smelling like the sun. Crap on a pinhead, and he was supposed to wait? “Are you talking about now? Or are you talking about tonight?”

“I’m talking about anytime you want me.”