Читать книгу The Harder You Fall - Gena Showalter - Страница 10
ОглавлениеJESSIE KAY SAT in the bleachers, embarrassingly awed. West was a warrior of old and the arena was his battlefield, his body his weapon. And what a weapon it was.
He owned the ball. When someone else had it, he took it. When he had it and someone tried to steal it, he knocked that someone into a wall with a full-on slam. He threw insults, elbows and knees like they were confetti.
Tomorrow, the members of Team Ball Buster would feel as if they’d tangled with an F5 tornado and lost, guaran-dang-teed.
It—was—hawt. West was hawt.
Jessie Kay’s gaze remained glued to him. Sweat glistened on his bronzed skin, and blood trickled from several cuts he’d sustained. The injuries only made him sexier. She wanted to kiss him all better. With tongue.
Dang. The future of her new good-girl status looked pretty bleak right about now.
He shoved someone else into the wall, a loud thud echoing, and she sighed dreamily.
Harlow gasped with concern. “Butter my butt and call me a biscuit. This sport is brutal. It’s making my stomach churn.”
“Churn with happiness, right?” Brutal equaled awesome.
“Would I need a vomit bag for happiness?”
“Not likely.”
“Then no, not happiness. Beck has such a violent past. I’m nervous this kind of aggression will lead to flashbacks and nightmares.”
Jessie Kay knew the guy had grown up in foster care, same as West and Jase, and that not all the homes had been safe havens. “Beck doesn’t look traumatized out there, honey. He looks as thrilled as a bull with teats.”
Harlow rolled her eyes. “A bull would not be thrilled with teats.”
“How do you know? A guy with boobs would be over the moon. Anyway. You mentioned Beck’s past. What do you know about West’s?” Subtle, Jessie Kay, subtle.
“About as much as you do, I’m thinking. Which means not a whole lot.”
Well, crap.
Her phone buzzed, and she checked the screen. Sunny Effing Day.
Got a line on party of the century 2nite. U in??
She didn’t have to think about her response.
No thanks, but tell me all about it in the morning :-) :-)
Sunny: Girl, U know there’s a big chance I won’t even remember the deets, right??
Yeah. And that was one of the bigger problems for Jessie Kay. She hated remembering the things she’d done, but she hated not remembering the things she’d done even more.
“So, uh, what do you think of him?” she asked Harlow. “West, I mean.”
Harlow’s gaze sharpened on her. “Well, he’s certainly a charming devil, isn’t he? Why?”
She ignored the question, saying, “Of course you’d think he’s charming. He’s nice to you.”
“He is, which is probably why I think he’s smart, driven and witty. And handsome. And strong. I love his dedication to Beck and Jase.”
“But?”
“But...sometimes he can stand in a full beam of light and I still think he’s surrounded by darkness.”
Yes! That! “I thought I was the only one who’d noticed.” She’d often wondered if something bad had happened to him as a kid. Something more than the bits and pieces she’d gleaned over the months. Orphaned at a young age. The death of a girlfriend. A lost scholarship. “I bet this kind of aggression is cathartic for him. And Beck. Because this conversation does not revolve around West. I bet brutal field play would be cathartic for me. Hey! Maybe we should start a team of our own.”
“No way, no how.”
Excitement filled her, and she clapped her hands. “We’ll call ourselves Victorious Secret and our motto will be ‘We Live to Spank You.’ Duuude. Yes! I’m basically the smartest person in the world. Ever. You in? Of course you’re in. Practice begins tomorrow.”
“I’m out.” Harlow shuddered with horror. “I have zero desire to be tossed around like some kind of meat bag just because I have possession of a ball anyone can buy at any sporting-goods store for less than twenty dollars.”
“Puss! You were the town bully for years. Where is your predator spirit?”
“In my pants,” she deadpanned, “where Beck likes to visit.”
Yeah. Okay. The fact that Jessie Kay hadn’t gotten any since the Jase/Beck debacle could maybe possibly definitely for sure begin to explain her desire to attack strangers and bask in their misery, perhaps even dance in their blood. That and the fear that she not only sucked as a person, she sucked as a lover. Why else would so many guys ditch her so fast?
Throughout her life, she’d had too many hookups and too few relationships, nothing ever lasting more than a few weeks. And more often than not—or, you know, every time—it had been the guy who’d left her, not the other way around.
Why was she such a failure? What made her so unworthy of more?
Her winning personality should only ever seal a deal.
Like Daniel said, he’d had the time of his life during their dates, laughing with her—not at her—until he pulled a muscle. And yet, he’d still let her go. And after him, she’d gone out with Dorian Oliver, a childhood friend of Beck’s who lost his wife to cancer years before. He hoped to find love again, and honestly, he’d seemed really into her, always making excuses to get his hands on her.
You cold?
But after only three dates, all of which had ended with a passionate kiss at her door, he’d pulled the plug.
A good thing, actually.
According to Momma, a girl shouldn’t give her pearls to pigs. Dorian was as far from pig-like as possible—a sweetheart who treated her with nothing but respect and kindness—but the message fit all the same. If she didn’t have a future with a guy, why waste her precious time? Especially considering she’d wasted so much already.
She was twenty-seven years old and the dreaded thirty was creeping up on her like an insidious disease. Or the worst thing on the planet—a spider. Did she have a single prospect? No! Because the only guy capable of eliciting a lasting response in her was a bastard of the highest order some days, most days, and a charmer without equal the others. Again, a charmer to everyone but her for reasons he’d never had the courtesy to share with her. Not that it mattered...even though he could melt her panties with only a glance.
The next piece of beefcake she welcomed into her bed would like the crap out of her, figuratively speaking, and that was that.
You outshine the sun, Anna Grace. There’s nothing about you I would change.
Her father’s words to her mother only solidified her vow. Jessie Kay’s next man wouldn’t set a timer on their relationship, like some people she knew. He would fight tooth and nail to stay with her, no matter what.
Basically, the relationship equivalent of West and his soccer ball.
Her phone buzzed again, and when she checked the screen, a smile bloomed. Since her run-in with Daniel earlier in the week, they’d stayed in constant contact.
Daniel: Come over tonight. We’ll eat SpaghettiOs, my fave. Just for the privilege of your company, I’m willing to watch The Big Bang Theory, How I Met Your Mother or New Girl
Her: You know what would be cool??? If those 3 shows were combined. How I Banged the New Girl Before I Met Your Mother :-) :-) :-)
Daniel: OK. You owe me a new phone. I just spit coffee all over this one
Her: Consider it the price you pay for being friends w/such a “sass mouth” (as Mom used to say) and too bad for you, I’m hanging w/ my girls 2night
Daniel: Pencil me in soon. Pleeease (look at me, willing to beg)
Her: We’ll see!
Daniel: Since I’m not getting sex from you, I’m only in this friendship for the fun, remember?
Her: Fine. I’ll consider giving you a few minutes of JK time tomorrow—but I’ll hear your thanks NOW
Daniel: Someone needs to spank your ass...but thank you
She so did not want to be buoyed by his eagerness to spend time with her, but dang it, she was. Maybe she should try dating him again—
No. No! No second chances in the romance department. Ever.
Build a house on sand, and the first storm that comes along will topple it. Build on a firm foundation, and the house will withstand anything.
She would give anything for just one more conversation with her mom. Just one more hug.
The crowd erupted into bloodthirsty cheers, jolting her from her thoughts, and she glanced up in time to watch another member of Ball Busters hit the wall, impact so strong it even shook the bleachers. As the guy slipped to the floor, he left a smear of crimson behind. Through it, Jessie Kay met West’s stare.
She saw hunger...such gnawing hunger...
He gave her a look so raw and carnal, she felt stripped of every piece of clothing in less than a second. That look said he couldn’t go a minute more without having her in his bed. That he would suffocate without her. That she’d become the center of his world—his gravity.
It was a lie. A nasty, nasty lie.
Or she was only seeing what she wanted to see. A problem of hers.
Even still, goose bumps broke out over her skin and fire blazed in her veins. Savage, sexy beast. Gimme.
Before she did something stupid—like throw what was left of her panties at him—she buffed her nails.
“Hey, Jessie Kay, Harlow. I finally made it.”
She turned to see Brook Lynn climbing the bleachers and sighed with relief. Her sister had always been her saving grace.
The blonde, blue-eyed beauty had rescued Jessie Kay from certain disaster so many times over the years, she’d earned a JK life-preserver badge. If the little darling hadn’t become the mother they’d lost, despite being two years younger, Jessie Kay would have ended up on the streets...and oh, crap. Guilt gnawed on her soul. Guilt like she hadn’t felt in years—because she hadn’t let herself feel it, numbed by keggers and “romance.”
She was the worst sister ever. She’d destroyed Brook Lynn’s entire world. She was the worst daughter ever. She’d escorted her mother to death’s door, rung the bell and ran away. She’d insulted her father hours before he died and, and, and—
She focused on that, the least horrendous of her crimes, hoping to stop the panic attack in its tracks. And for a moment it worked, the arena disappearing, replaced by the kitchen walls of her childhood home—the home she still lived in—morning sunlight shining through the large bay window.
“Go change out of those shorts and into something appropriate,” her father demanded.
“But Daddy—”
“You’re still a child, Jessie Kay. My baby girl. You shouldn’t wear skintight pants with the word naughty scripted over your backside.”
“I’m not a child! I’m—”
“No argument. Just action.”
She stomped her foot. “Sunny has a pair just like them, and her dad thinks they’re cool.”
“He isn’t your dad. Go change.”
“Well, I wish he was my dad!” she shouted. “I like him better.”
She raced to her room, and a short while later Daddy left for work...but he’d never come home.
A manager at Dairyland, he’d been speaking to one of his engineers about a broken machine. A machine that exploded, killing them along with half the workforce.
He’d died thinking she wanted a different father.
“Hey, hey. You okay?” Soft hands cupped her cheeks.
Jessie Kay blinked and found her sister sitting beside her, familiar features darkened with concern. “I’m fine.” She gave her sister a big ol’ bear hug, and she probably held on far too long, probably clung far too tight, but dang it, she loved the girl. “Just thinking about Daddy,” she said when she pulled away, careful to articulate her words.
Brook Lynn was born with a severe case of hyperacusis—a condition that caused her to hear even the quietest everyday noises at a screaming volume—forcing her to wear bulky devices in both ears to muffle and even mute sounds.
“We’ve talked about this.” Brook Lynn gave her cheeks a firm pat. “Do I really need to give you another lecture?”
Parents and children fight. That’s part of life. You and Dad exchanged heated words, get over it. You both walked away knowing you were loved.
Brook Lynn hadn’t witnessed the fight, and Jessie Kay hadn’t wanted to spill the details, but she’d done it anyway. Panic attacks had been a way of life for her back then, and her sister deserved to know one of the many reasons why.
“No. I remember the last twenty thousand.”
“Good.” Brook Lynn nodded. “Now tell me what I missed game-wise.”
The soccer game. A life raft. “West has tried to murder everyone on the field, and Jase has guarded the goal as if it’s your virtue.
“In other words,” Brook Lynn said with a grin, “we’re winning.”
Exactly. “So how’d the fitting go?”
“You mean the modern-day torture session I willingly signed up for? Well, if you ever decide you’d like to acquire a few body-image issues, just gain a few pounds before trying to zip your wedding gown and watch the seamstress’s horrified expression in the mirror.”
No one insults my sis—but me. “So you’ve gained a few pounds. So what? You’ve done Jase a favor. You’ve given him more of you to love.”
Harlow snorted. “While your logic is impeccable—”
“I know, right? You’re welcome, Jase,” Jessie Kay shouted to the field.
He didn’t hear her over the cheers and boos rising from the crowd, but somehow West did and he frowned over at her. The distraction cost him. He’d been waiting for the ball to cross the centerline, and when it did, he missed it, for the first time allowing a member of the other team to soar past him, heading for the goal.
Oops.
“—going to have a pity party, invitation one, if yesterday’s brownies...and this morning’s cupcakes...ruin my wedding gown,” Harlow finished.
Jessie Kay barely paid attention to her friend, mumbling, “You’re getting married this freaking weekend. The only thing you need to worry about is the death of your dating life.”
“Before Beck, I had no dating life. My scars—”
“Are hideous. We know, you’ve told us.” She watched as West jumped back into the fray, slamming his big, delicious body into the guy who had his ball. “We love you, anyway.”
When the final buzzer sounded, the Goal Scouts won four to zero.
Her takeaway? Mercy didn’t exist in soccer.
Knowing the boys had to shower and change, she and the girls made their way to the lobby to wait. The Ball Busters emerged first, each man making an obvious point to avoid her gaze as he passed her.
Had she become total dog food since the game kicked off?
“Jase,” Brook Lynn squealed, rushing over when her fiancé stepped into the room, his hair damp and his skin scrubbed clean. “You were freaking awesome.”
He winked at her. “You know I can’t help that.”
“Hey. That’s my line.” Beck shouldered his way past his friend to get to Harlow. “We’re going out to celebrate our victory. Tell me you’re coming with us, love, or you’ll break the heart you resurrected.”
Harlow smiled sweetly at him. “Are you paying?”
Sweat beaded on Jessie Kay’s palms as West moved into view, his gaze hard and steady on the exit, as if he couldn’t wait to leave. He wore a black cashmere sweater and an old pair of jeans tucked into well-used combat boots. He was casual sophistication with a mule kick of dominant alpha, and he outshone every other man present.
“I’m not paying,” Beck said, and Harlow pouted. “But West is.”
Harlow—Jessie Kay’s ride—fist pumped.
West arched a dark brow. “I am?”
“Well, then, we’re definitely going.” Harlow nudged Jessie Kay with an elbow. “Right?”
A free meal? “Sure. Count me in.”
West motioned to the door with a clipped wave and she thought—hoped—he would put his hand on the small of her back to usher her forward. But as they walked to the parking lot, he maintained a steady distance between them. Of course, Jase decided to drive Brook Lynn’s car and Beck decided to drive Harlow’s, the two couples entering their respective vehicles and leaving Jessie Kay and West standing outside. Alone.
Wasn’t awkward at all.
He opened the passenger door for her. “Get in.”
Shocked by the gentlemanly gesture but not the bossy command, she slid inside the vehicle. And instantly regretted it. The air smelled like him, pure seduction and sweet caramel. Trembling, she buckled up and peered out the window, refusing to give in to the urge to watch his big hands molest the steering wheel.
“By the way,” he muttered, “you still owe me a sandwich.”
“It’s your word against mine.” Going for casual, she said, “So where are we headed?”
“A hamburger dive I’ve loved since I was a kid.”
“Wait. Hold everything. You were once a kid?” She gave a mock gasp, hand fluttering over her heart. “I’m sorry, but I demand proof.”
“Too bad. There’s none available.”
Please. “Surely there are pictures.”
“No.”
“Well, why the heck not? Did you destroy them? I bet you destroyed them. Didn’t think you looked handsome enough?”
Without any inflection of emotion, he said, “Actually, no one cared enough to take any.”
No. No, she refused to believe it. If he was potent now despite the shadows haunting his eyes and the tension that always radiated from him, he must have melted hearts as a child.
When she glanced over at him, however, her confidence withered. He kept his attention on the road, his posture stiff and his knuckles bleached of color. Just then, he was a man who’d revealed more than he liked.
He’d just told the truth, hadn’t he?
Wow. His own parents, however long he’d been with them—not to mention all those foster parents—hadn’t spared a few seconds out of their busy days to immortalize a moment of his childhood? How gut-wrenching. Wrong on every level.
Sadness for the little boy he’d been washed over her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Even if you’d looked like you were born downwind of an outhouse, I would have snapped a thousand photos of you. And then used those photos to blackmail you later, but my reasons are inconsequential.”
“Thank you?” He changed lanes to pass a minivan. “But it’s not like I have a monopoly on crappy childhoods.”
“In this car you do. I had a great one.”
“You sure about that? You were what, around thirteen when your dad died in an explosion at work? You were only seventeen when your mom drowned and your uncle showed up to save the day only to leave with the insurance money.”
She blinked over at him. The entire town knew her history—well, they thought they knew—so it wasn’t a big surprise West had the basic info. He was just the first person to ever state the facts so plainly. “I was a teenager in both instances, not a child. Big difference.”
“Not really. Pain is pain.”
“And don’t go thinking you know everything about me, either,” she added as if he hadn’t spoken. “There’s more to both stories. A lot more.”
“Do tell.”
And share her deepest, darkest secrets with the man who thought she’d been scraped off the bottom of a shoe? “No, thanks.” She had enough trouble with her past without adding his commentary.
Even now, she thought of her mom falling...because of me...her mom screaming, begging for help...because of me...and she wanted to bawl like a baby who’d lost her favorite blankie, hug Brook Lynn, apologize forever and, and, and—
As the panic attack knocked at the door of her mind, she forced her thoughts to fast-forward to her mother’s funeral, when she’d basically self-imploded. She’d gotten drunk for the very first time and given her virginity to the skeevy boy who lived down the street. The one who’d thought he was God’s gift to the entire town. The one who’d told all his friends she was easy.
From that point on, she had been.
She’d given no consideration to Brook Lynn’s care because she’d counted on Uncle Kurt to take care of everything. He’d promised. Only, like West had said, Kurt fled soon after collecting the insurance check. By then, Jessie Kay had been such a hot mess, the fifteen-year-old Brook Lynn had to pick up the slack, getting a job delivering papers, collecting donations from Strawberry Valley Community Church and doing everything within her power to keep two teenage girls together, fed, clothed and sheltered and, and, and—
Can’t breathe. Need to breathe.
A warm hand squeezed her knee, giving her the jolt necessary to focus on something other than the past.
“Jessie Kay?” The gentleness of West’s voice shocked her more than his touch.
Inhale, good. Exhale, better. “I’m fine. Really.” Or she would be. As soon as she reached her sister. Brook Lynn had a way of making everything A-okay.
“You sure about that?”
Convince, move on. She offered the brightest smile she could manage. “Are you okay? You actually seem concerned about my well-being.”
He yanked his hand away from her. “I don’t know if you’ve heard the rumors, but my heart is made of stone. Of course I’m not concerned.”
She remembered the look he’d given her during the soccer game and decided his heart wasn’t made of stone but of fire.
Not that she’d share her observation. But maybe she could get him to admit it.
“You were right. About my childhood. It was absolutely tragic.” Offering an exaggerated frown, she traced a fingertip down both of her checks to mimic tears. “You should feel sorry for me and be super nice to me from now on.”
He suddenly looked as if he was fighting a smile. “You know, upon further reflection, I’m certain my childhood was far worse than yours. You should feel sorry for me and do everything I tell you.”
Well, well. “Color me intrigued. What’s the first thing you’d tell me to do?”
He glanced at her, proving her theory: he burned.
“I’d want you—”
She shivered and—
“—to tell me more about your childhood.”
Withered in her seat. “What do you want to know?”
“What did you want to be when you grew up?”
Polite interest? Or was he actually curious? “You’ll laugh.”
“Maybe. Probably.”
Had to respect his honesty. “Mostly I wanted to be that crazy cat lady.”
He choked on a breath. “An old woman who wears rollers and a robe, and has a hundred cats prowling through her house?”
“Exactly. I wanted a cat but Dad was allergic. Once a month Mom drove me to the shelter where I got to pet a roomful of strays. The employees used to joke about that crazy cat lady who came in every few weeks to adopt a new one. I was so jealous of her.”
“That is...” He frowned. “Ridiculously adorable.”
He sounded surprised. “What about you? What did you want to be?”
“Sorry, but we’re not done with you. When you realized crazy cat lady wouldn’t pay the bills, what’d you want to do?”
“Become a high school teacher.”
“Subject?”
“English.”
He wiggled his brows. “How do you come on to a high school English teacher?”
Her brow furrowed. “Uh...how?”
“Over? Under? To? Around? Outside?”
She snickered. “You preposition her.” Silly man.
Sexy man.
“Now I have to know your childhood dream,” she said. “Tell me!”
“I had big plans, was going to be the youngest, hottest cop on the force.”
A puzzle piece clicked into place. “Had fantasies about taking down bad guys, did you?” Made sense, considering some of the hellholes he must have lived in.
“Something like that.”
“Now you create video games that allow you to defeat every kind of bad guy imaginable, so in a way, you’ve achieved your dream.”
“That’s true.” A sizzling pause. “You’ve played my games?”
Caught! “Once or twice,” she admitted. For years she’d fought—and lost—an addiction to “Donkey Kong.” Barrels! The lady! Her dad taught her how to play, their special time together, and, well, winning became an obsession.
As soon as she’d learned of West’s accomplishments, she’d maybe kinda sorta rushed out to buy his greatest hits. “Alice in Zombieland.” “Lords of the Underworld.” “Angels of the Dark.” “Everlife.” Used, of course, because she couldn’t afford new.
“Evil is always afoot,” she added, “but the good guys always save the day.”
His frown returned, deepened. “Let’s listen to the radio.” He jacked up the volume.
Didn’t like her observations? “Giving you the silent treatment won’t be a problem,” she called over the music.
“Really? Because you’re still talking.”
“Oh, that wasn’t talking. This is.” For the rest of the drive, she chatted about nothing. Loudly. The weather, her love of donuts, the price of thongs—so little material should cost less!—and finally, her last gynecological exam.
They reached the diner just as she got to the part about the cold speculum. He parked in back and sighed with relief when she quieted.
Rather than waiting for him to open her door—would he? wouldn’t he?—she jumped out.
“Do you have to move like that?” West called as he emerged.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re in heat.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t like, don’t watch.”
“Impossible,” he might or might not have muttered.
What the heck!
The other couples were already inside, seated at a rickety table in back, next to a Christmas tree. Ugh. Christmas. Her least favorite holiday was only three and a half weeks away. She and Brook Lynn would have to celebrate—again—without their parents.
Hate the holidays!
Despite the holly-jolly decorations, Jessie Kay fell in love with the diner at first glance. The red vinyl booths and black-and-white-tiled floor charmed her. Though the mint-green walls were cracked and crumbling, and there were water stains on the ceiling, the flaws only added character. Life had happened here. And really, how could you complain about anything when the smell of hamburgers, bacon and chili dogs saturated the air?
Only two chairs were free at the table, and of course, they were right next to each other.
West pulled one out for her, his gentlemanly ways shocking her all over again.
“Thank you,” she muttered as she sat.
“You’re welcome,” he muttered back, sliding in beside her.
Things had always been strained between them, but now she knew the sweetness of his concern as she’d fought a panic attack, knew the feel of his hand pressed against hers, the kindness he showed to even a woman he didn’t exactly like, and the strain reached a whole new level. I want!
Danger! Headed to a hot zone.
“So...you guys been waiting long?” she asked, hoping for a distraction.
No one paid her a bit of attention. With Harlow marrying Beck—this freaking weekend—and Brook Lynn marrying Jase—in less than five freaking months—the girls were caught up in a conversation about the weddings while the guys reminisced fondly about Ball Busters they’d injured.
Dude. I think you broke his femur. Congrats!
The waitress arrived and, to Jessie Kay’s irritation, placed her hand on West’s shoulder, as if it had every right to be there. “Y’all know what you want to drink?”
Overfriendly much?
The group snapped to attention, Jase kicking things off. When it was West’s turn, the waitress stripped him with her predatory eyes and said, “Don’t worry, sweetie. I remember what you like. I’ll take real good care of you, promise.”
With a wink and a grin, she sashayed off, and dang it, even Jessie Kay had to admit her milkshake would bring all the boys to the yard. Short and slender, she had the kind of curves most women spent years in a gym—or thousands on surgery—trying to achieve. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and swished from side to side, acting like a summoning finger, demanding anything with a penis follow fast.
“Looks like you have a groupie.” The venom in Jessie Kay’s voice baffled her.
I’m not jealous. I can’t be jealous.
West meant nothing to her.
She tried for sweet. “How nice that must be for you.” And how nice for Ponytail. The fact that she hadn’t made the horrendous gaffe of sleeping with both West’s friends, well, she might actually have a chance to score him.
“A groupie?” He shook his head, the picture of masculine confidence. “How cute.”
“You should have seen the one who showed up at the office a few days ago.” Beck draped his arm over Harlow’s chair, something Jessie Kay’s dad used to do whenever he was seated next to her mom. Daddy could never go more than a few minutes without touching Momma.
When we’re not together, Anna Grace, I think of you. And when I think of you, I smile.
“She and West shook hands,” Beck continued, “and I swear they made a baby.”
“Twins.” West rubbed two fingers against the dark stubble on his jaw. “Maybe triplets.”
“You are such a romantic.” Jessie Kay clutched her napkin to her chest. “How does anyone resist you?”
“That’s a very good question.” He met her gaze, and it shocked her—thrilled her—to watch his pupils expand, black spilling over all that gold. A forest fire wafting smoke. “Why don’t you provide the answer?”
All eyes landed on her, and she shifted uncomfortably. “My opinion doesn’t count. To me you’re like a third cousin twice removed.”
“So...kissing cousins?” Jase asked her.
As she sputtered with indignation, Ponytail returned with their drinks, making sure to shove her cleavage in West’s face. Did she have no shame?
“Y’all ready to order?”
“Sure.” West petted the woman’s hand, which had once again migrated to his shoulder. “I’ll have the special, whatever it is.”
After everyone else had placed their orders— requesting the special as well—Ponytail skipped off to give their ticket to the cook.
“I take it back.” Jessie Kay frowned at West. “You don’t have a groupie. You are a groupie. Her twins had you completely entranced.”
“Hardly.” He peered at Jessie Kay for a while longer, the wheels clearly turning in his head. Finally he nodded, as if he’d just made a decision. He leaned toward her, coming closer and closer. His voice a rasp of heat, ensuring only she could hear him, he said, “I happen to be a fan of someone else’s twins.”
Her jaw dropped, and her mouth went dry. Had he just—no, no, impossible...but...maybe. Had he just come on to her?
Wide-eyed, she turned her attention to Jase. “Did West sustain a massive brain injury during the game?” First he’d been nice to her. Then he’d complimented her movements—in heat? Yes! Now he flirted with her.
Actually he might be more than injured. He might be dying.
“Why?” Brook Lynn and Harlow asked in unison, instantly concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Brook Lynn demanded.
The guys merely smiled slyly at her, as if they were privy to a secret.
“Maybe he finally had some sense knocked into him,” Beck said.
“Maybe someone else wanted what he wants, and he decided to take it. At long last,” Jase said.
Meaning...someone else had wanted her and West had decided to make a move?
No way. Absolutely no way. No one but Daniel wanted her, and he didn’t count.
Reeling, needing a moment to regroup, she tossed her napkin on the table. And, just to be tactless, she added, “I’m headed to the lady’s crapper. Alone,” she added for the girls’ benefit. “If I take a while, don’t come looking for me.”
Brook Lynn dropped her head in her upraised hands and moaned. “My sister did not just say those words at such a loud volume. I’m in a happy place. With butterflies and roses.”
West continued to stare at her, the forest fire growing hotter...so hot all that smoke reached her, twined around her. Barely able to breathe, she backed away from him. Whatever this was, whatever had changed between them, whatever he was doing, she wanted no part of it—because deep down she wanted all of it.
