Читать книгу Fortune's Hero - Susan Crosby - Страница 8

Garrett didn’t slow his stride. His old hound Pete trotted beside him and kept looking back at the woman who’d audibly gasped her indignation at his abrupt dismissal. Truth was, she tempted him mightily, and he was afraid if he invited her in, even for just a second, he would fall under her spell. It was obvious that she was trouble with a capital T.

The moment he’d caught sight of her at the airport three months ago, he’d felt gut punched. A few seconds later he’d recovered enough to wink at her, but had kept walking because he’d been inclined to start up a conversation, which would’ve been a big mistake. She wasn’t his type at all, which had made it all the more baffling. Two birthdays from now he would turn forty. She looked barely out of college. She was petite and dark-haired, and he was partial to blonde and tall, or at least closer to his own six foot four than she was. She wore designer-chic clothes, even her jeans and boots had probably come from a boutique or something, and she’d already turned up her nose at the good Texas dust that had settled on her jeans as if she’d been contaminated.

He’d met plenty of high-maintenance women in his life. He’d learned to avoid them, especially after an experience a couple of years back with a woman named Crystal, one he’d like to forget, except for the lesson learned.

But he also liked women with curves. Give him more than a handful of a woman in his big bed and he was happy, especially if she was just passing through. He didn’t date women looking for long-term, and felt no need for conversation or companionship on a regular basis.

Sure, the petite Ms. Victoria Fortune of the Atlanta Fortunes was wife material—but not for him. She’d had stars in her eyes when she’d arrived a few minutes ago. He wasn’t sure what had caused them. Glorification of him as her hero, maybe? He’d never been a hero in anyone’s eyes before. Just the opposite, in fact. He’d been blamed for lots he didn’t do, just because people expected it.

He’d been a rabble-rouser in his youth, prone to bar fights and speeding tickets, but that’d been years ago. And then there was that incident with Jenny Kirkpatrick….

It hadn’t mattered that he’d been a teenager at the time—nor had he been the guilty party. Some reputations couldn’t be lived down, however, so he’d stopped trying.

Pete assumed his usual dog-sentinel post on the porch as Garrett let himself into his house. He decided to wait until Victoria was gone before resuming his work. When he didn’t hear her car start up, he set down the bottle of fine whiskey, peeked out a window and saw her leaning against her car, arms crossed, staring his direction. His collie-mix mutt, Abel, plopped next to her, his tail wagging, dust flying. Idly she petted him, then crouched and gave him a good scratch behind his ears, something Abel loved more than anything except a good belly rub. What male didn’t?

Picturing her hands sliding over his own body knotted him up good—and how the hell long was she gonna hang around when he’d specifically dismissed her?

Everyone knew Fortune women liked their luxuries, and they probably always got their way, too. Maybe she wouldn’t leave until he forced her off his property.

Well, she wouldn’t get her way here. Not with him.

Choking off a colorful oath, he opened his front door, jammed on his hat and strode across his yard. Abel stood and wagged his tail, looking a little guilty at being caught getting attention from another human.

And that human was looking at him like he was a rock star or something. Aw, hell.

“Why are you still here?” he asked.

“I’m not a princess,” she said calmly. “I came here because I dream about you every night.”

Gut punched again, he said nothing. He’d had a few dreams himself….

“Nightmares, really,” she added.

So much for hero worship. “You need professional help with that. You’re not gonna find that here.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But I’ve never been that close to death, Mr. Stone. So I decided to come see you, to thank you, with the hope that I can stop thinking about it, obsessing about it really. I would appreciate it if you would acknowledge the fact you saved my life and let me thank you properly for doing so. I’m sure I’ll be able to move on then.”

“And just how long does it take to say thank you?”

She cocked her head. “How long does it take to pour a glass of whiskey?”

She had sass, he gave her that. Sometimes that was a good quality in a woman.

“Are you of legal drinking age?”

“I’m twenty-four.”

“Are you expected back right away?” he asked.

“I suppose my family will worry after a little while. Why?”

“Before we break open that whiskey, we need to go for a drive.”

“Where?” she asked, a touch of suspicion in her voice.

He angled closer. “Well, now, if you don’t trust me …”

Her eyes shimmered, eyes the color of chocolate diamonds and just as deep. “Let’s just say my entire family knows I’m here, so I don’t think trust is an issue,” she said.

“C’mon, then.” He crossed the yard to where his pickup sat, he could hear her boots crunching against the hard ground. He got into his truck, expecting she would climb in the passenger side on her own, since she wasn’t a princess. He smiled a little at that.

“Buckle up,” he said when she settled next to him.

They made the trip in silence, and he could feel her tension rise with every mile. Then when he made the last turn into Red Rock Airport, her fingers dug into the seat. Her eyes were glued on the structures ahead as he paused.

He sat still, letting her take in the view, letting her adjust to seeing the place where she’d almost been buried alive. Seeing the airport rebuilt should help her rebuild her own life.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, keeping his voice soft and low, treating her the same as any wounded animal who’d landed on his property.

She nodded. He admired her for that, for not making him coax her, for facing her demons. He came around the truck as she dropped onto the ground, then he walked toward the terminal. She caught up with him in a couple of seconds and gripped his hand, keeping up with him.

“The airport’s back to being used all the time,” he said. “They’re close to finishing the rebuilding.”

“How many people died?” she asked.

“Three.” He eyed her. “Could’ve been a whole lot worse.”

“What were you doing here?”

“Picking up a shipment that’d been airfreighted to me.” He opened the glass door to the terminal and took her inside with him. She squeezed his hand tighter, if that was even possible. “Clear skies, Victoria. Don’t worry.”

“Hey, Garrett!”

“Boyd,” Garrett said, acknowledging the jack-of-all-trades airport worker he’d known since grade school.

“Need somethin’?”

“I’m showing off the construction.”

Boyd waved a hand then walked away.

“It’s just a building,” Garrett said, feeling her start to shake.

“It was almost my tomb.”

His, too, but he didn’t remind her of that. He’d been able to tuck it away in his memories.

It was dark by the time they’d walked the entire place. She never let go of his hand, and he had to admit it was kinda nice holding it. Every now and then he noticed the sparkle of her nail polish, felt the softness of her skin against his rough hand and how small it was compared to his—all indicators of how different they were.

She was just as quiet on the drive back to his ranch. He hadn’t expected a miraculous recovery for her, but he’d thought maybe she would chat him up a bit. She petted Pete and Abel after she climbed out of his truck, crooning to them. Garrett wouldn’t admit to being jealous, but he felt … something.

“You still want that whiskey?” he asked.

She looked up at him. Her smile was calmer than when she’d first arrived. “Rain check?”

He didn’t answer because he didn’t expect to see her again. He walked her to her car, opened her door and waited for her to get inside and go. He was in a hurry for her to leave him in peace. He’d thought he’d buried his own memories, but being at the airport with her had brought them back in full. He could toss six feet of dirt over them again, but he needed quiet to do that. And for Ms. Victoria Fortune to be out of his sight.

“Thank you,” she said, a little quaver to her voice.

Aw, hell. She wasn’t gonna cry, was she? That he couldn’t deal with at all. “You drive safe now.”

She was staring at him, at his chest anyway. “You were wearing a bolo tie that day,” she said. “Silver and onyx. It was gorgeous.”

What he remembered was how she’d grabbed his tie and pulled him down to kiss him. He also remembered her perfume, sweet and spicy. She didn’t wear any today, and he liked that, too.

Finally she raised her gaze to connect with his, searching his eyes.

“Thank you for taking me there.” Then, surprising him, she reached up, locked her arms behind his neck and tugged him down as she raised up on tiptoe. He could’ve easily set her aside. Instead, he met her halfway and accepted her final gesture of appreciation. Her lips were soft, her mouth hot. When she tightened her hold on him, he did the same, pulling her body next to his, wrapping his arms around her, sliding his hands down to cup her rear.

Then Abel jumped up on him from behind and her cell phone rang at the same time, a double jolt of awareness to the situation they’d been about to put themselves in.

“I’d better answer that,” she said, stepping back to dig into her pocket, her hands shaking. “Someone’s probably worried.”

He backed off as she took the call, telling the person on the other end that she was on her way home. Then she tucked her phone away. He had no idea what to say, so he left it to her because his next move would be to haul her to bed.

“I should go,” she said. She climbed into her car and started the engine. Her smile turned mischievous, the dull glaze in her eyes replaced with more clarity. “I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t a good kisser,” she said pertly, then she gave him an indecipherable look through the windshield as she backed up to turn around. She waved as she drove off.

His body was like granite. He hadn’t been this on edge for a long time. He was usually the one with the last word, too. She’d caught him off guard. That was also rare.

Maybe he’d helped her with her post-tornado trauma, but she’d given him something to dream about.

It was the last thing he wanted.

Red Rock’s most upscale restaurant, Red, was situated in the heart of downtown. Wendy’s husband, Marcos Mendoza, managed the restaurant that was owned by his aunt and uncle. It was where Marcos and Wendy had met. She’d been exiled, as she referred to it, from the family business in Atlanta and sent to Red Rock to work for one of the Fortune businesses to discover her talent. She eventually ended up at Red, first as a waitress, then finding her calling as a dessert chef.

The original building was a converted, very old hacienda rumored to have belonged to relatives of the infamous General Santa Anna. It had been rebuilt after a fire but still featured an inside courtyard with a water fountain and several dining areas, both public and private.

Stepping into the main dining room, Victoria admired the rich, colorful decor and peaceful aura. Wendy had urged her and Emily to get out of the house for a while, and Marcos had insisted they have a spectacular dessert on him at Red. They’d argued it was unnecessary, but Wendy had prevailed. She couldn’t take MaryAnne out in public for at least two more weeks, according to the pediatrician. She would go to bed when the baby did, and she wanted Emily and Victoria to have some fun.

They sat at the bar, where they had a good view of the restaurant that was a little too understated to be called a “fun” spot. It was a place to gather or go on a date, but not a mix-and-mingle hot spot, nor was there a dance floor in the main room.

“So,” Emily said after taking a taste of a creamy dessert called Heavenly Sin and licking her spoon clean. “You’ve been awfully quiet since you got back from seeing Garrett Stone.”

Victoria took a bite of a black-and-white pudding that melted in her mouth. She closed her eyes, savoring it before she spoke. “There’s not much to say. I thanked him. He decided I needed to see the airport and took me there, as some kind of therapy, I expect.”

“Was he right? Did it help?”

“I suppose I’ll find out tonight. If the dream doesn’t return, I’ll call it a success.”

“And was the cowboy rough around the edges or gorgeous?”

“Both.”

Emily’s brows went up. “Do tell.”

“He’s different” was all she said.

He came across as a man who didn’t rile easily, was in fact paternal and protective, but he also simmered with passion. He just kept a tight rein on it. She could tell when he’d been restraining himself.

That kind of self-control, Victoria thought, was even sexier. And it made her want to break through it.

She dipped her spoon into the pudding again just as the cowboy in question took a seat at the bar, not close enough to talk to, but close enough to exchange glances. The bartender drew a draft and set it in front of Garrett without any words being spoken. He lifted his glass toward Victoria, took a sip and looked away.

“You’re blushing,” Emily said then looked around, her gaze landing on Garrett, who steadfastly stared at the wall of bottles behind the bartender. “Is that him?” Emily whispered.

“Who?”

Emily gave her a tolerant look. “Your therapist.”

“Yes. And don’t you dare put him on your Baby Plan list.”

Emily turned again and caught him studying them. “He’d make great babies, don’t you think? Tall and lean, and those ooh-la-la blue eyes.”

“Off-limits,” Victoria said, feeling her face heat up even more. “Anyway, I thought you were looking to adopt. At least that was your plan a week ago.”

“That was originally my goal, but looking at Cowboy Freud here, I don’t know….” She grinned. “Don’t fret, Vicki. I can see you’ve got the hots for him. I won’t unleash my considerable charms on your man.”

“He’s not my man.” She scraped her bowl for the last taste of pudding.

“Yet.”

“I’ll be going home in a couple of days.”

“I didn’t hear you say you weren’t attracted.”

Victoria shrugged. Attracted? What a mild word …

Garrett stood then and moved to sit next to Emily. They made a beautiful couple. She was several inches taller than Victoria. Her blond hair was more golden than his darker blond, but they fit together.

So much for his being a loner. She tried to remember why she’d labeled him that in her mind.

“Evenin’, Ms. Fortune,” he said, looking at Victoria.

“Hello, Mr. Stone.” The fact they’d shared a passionate kiss and were being so formal with each other made her heart beat faster, as if she was hiding something, when usually her life was an open book. She introduced him to her cousin.

“You following me?” he asked Victoria over the rim of his glass.

She arched her brows. “I believe we were sitting right here when you arrived,” she said, pointing out the obvious, not appreciating Emily’s curious and rather amused expression.

“Everyone knows I’m here every Sunday night ‘round this time.”

“I’m new in town. No one thought to add me to the Garrett Stone Sunday Routine loop.”

Marcos came up to them and shook Garrett’s hand, welcoming him. No, she hadn’t known, but Marcos certainly must have, and he’d issued the command performance to come to Red tonight. Why?

“Were Em’s and my desserts Wendy’s creations? Is that why you insisted we come tonight?” Victoria asked Marcos, making sure that Garrett knew exactly who was responsible for her being at Red tonight.

“Only the flan recipe on the dessert menu isn’t hers, although she’s talking about creating a chocolate version.”

A server put a plate of enchiladas in front of Garrett, smiled flirtatiously at him—or maybe knowingly—then sauntered away. Marcos excused himself, then Emily stood.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said.

Victoria was glad for the empty seat between her and Garrett because she wanted too much to sit closer, to brush arms, to straddle him right where he sat. “So, you come in every Sunday night for enchiladas?”

“And to pick up a standing order for a week’s worth of dinners.”

“You don’t cook, I guess.”

“I barbecue now and then, and breakfast and lunch are easy, but dinner’s a challenge. They freeze individual portions for me. Makes it simple.”

“You don’t get tired of eating the same things night after night?”

“Nope.” He scooped up a mixture of rice and beans then chewed thoughtfully while watching her. After he swallowed, he said, “You okay after today?”

“So far, so good.” She couldn’t remember being this tempted by a man. She’d had plenty of flirtations in her life, but she craved Garrett. He’d dominated her dreams for months, had held her hand for an hour, kissed her once—but very well—and now he was just sitting there, eating, and she wanted to go home with him.

He eyed her. “Your cheeks are pink.”

“It’s warm in here.”

“You sure you’re just not remembering our kiss?”

She angled her body toward him and crossed her legs, pleased that the kiss was on his mind, too. “I told you I was a good kisser.”

“It takes two.”

She smiled leisurely. “It certainly does.”

He gave her a cool look, which made her laugh.

“When do you go back to Atlanta?” he asked.

“Soon. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” She leaned closer. “I’d like to see you again.”

“Why?” He didn’t seem surprised, which annoyed her.

“You interest me,” she said.

“And you usually get what you want, I expect.”

She thought she should be offended by that, but realized he was speaking the truth as he saw it. She was a Fortune, therefore her life must never hit any speed bumps.

“Most of the time I guess I do,” she answered, although she’d never wanted anything that mattered a whole lot—until now.

He stood, tossed a couple of bills down for the bartender, then swiped his hat off the bar top. Was he going to take off without another word?

“May I come out to your place tomorrow?” she asked, her insides churning. He apparently didn’t have a high opinion of her. She’d like the opportunity to change that.

“Not a good idea.”

Her brows went up. “That wasn’t a no.”

He touched a finger to her chin, then dragged it down her neck, his expression intense. “It sure as hell wasn’t a yes. Good night, princess.”

“See you around, cowboy,” she replied, pleased her voice didn’t shake.

She watched him walk away and sighed. The skin he’d touched still burned. She’d always wondered what it would be like to want a man like that, really want him. Now she knew.

It probably wasn’t smart on her part, trying to get him to meet with her again and see what happened, but an insistent voice in her head—and heart—was telling her to pursue him. She’d always been the resistant one, the person to keep a suitor at arm’s length. Now the tables were turned, and she totally understood the frustration of being rejected, or at least being held off.

She wasn’t proud of her past behavior, but in her own defense, she hadn’t understood it, either.

Emily returned. They put on their jackets and walked back to the Mendoza house.

“You looked like you wanted to gobble that man up,” Emily said.

“Too bad he wasn’t on the menu,” Victoria said, smiling, enjoying the crisp April evening. Life was so different here from Atlanta, so starkly different. “Wendy seems to love living here, Em. I never would’ve predicted that.”

“I’m not sure it’s the where but the who. She loves Marcos. That’s all that matters to her. Plus she found a passion for making desserts, so now she has a career. Add in motherhood …” Her voice trailed off. She shrugged.

“Are you envious?” Victoria asked. “I know how much you want to be a mother. It would be good to have a husband first.”

“In an ideal world. How about you? Unlike me, you’ve never talked about—”

“Obsessed about, you mean,” Victoria interrupted.

Emily nodded. “I admit to an obsession. Anyway, you’ve never said anything about wanting a family.”

“I’ve given it some thought, but I’m not in a hurry. I don’t think I’ve found me yet. I’ve got a job that doesn’t excite me, but I don’t know what else I want to do. I have great friends, but they’re settling into relationships and careers, so I feel at a loss a lot of the time. I’ve gotten restless.”

As they left the downtown, the night seemed darker and quieter, and yet Victoria felt safe. She didn’t know how safe she would feel at Pete’s Retreat. Garrett’s desolate location, where animals and humans could be hovering without anyone knowing, made her nervous. What a city girl she was.

Victoria’s cell rang just as they reached the house. Emily went inside, leaving Victoria alone on the porch.

“Coward,” Victoria said into the phone instead of hello.

“No question about it,” her cousin Jordana said. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t stay any longer. Couldn’t do what I said I would.”

“Your sisters are worried about you. They think you’re seriously ill.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That they shouldn’t worry, because you’re not. But you know you’ll be showing soon. How long do you expect to keep your secret?”

“I already can’t fasten some of my pants.”

“Then you can’t delay. And Jordana? Tanner deserves to know.”

“Soon,” she said. “I’m not ready. How about you? Did you meet your rescuer?”

“I did.” She told her cousin about her visit with Garrett, although not about the kiss. “As soon as I get home, we’ll talk.”

“When you were at the airport, did you …”

“See Tanner?” Victoria said, finishing her question. “No. But it’s Sunday, and the flight school probably isn’t open on Sunday. The building looks pretty much done. It was hard for me to tell without going inside.”

After they ended their conversation, Victoria sat on the porch steps. The air felt cooler now that she wasn’t moving, but she didn’t seek the warmth of the house yet. She set her arms on her knees and rested her chin there, her eyes closed. It’d been a long day, but she needed to examine it, needed to decide if she was truly taken with Garrett or the idea of him—what she’d built up in her mind. That he’d added to his list of heroic qualities by taking her to the airport deepened her need to see him again.

It wasn’t like her to fall so quickly and so hard. Maybe his resistance had presented her with a challenge, and she didn’t have many challenges in her life these days. It was exhilarating. She felt anxious for night to come so the next day could start. It’d been months since that had happened. Maybe longer than that.

Without question, she had to see him again. She couldn’t go home with her mind full of him. It would be worse than the nightmares from the tornado. At least those were limited to nighttime. Garrett would haunt her daytime hours, too.

She stood then, her decision made. She would figure out a way to see him again, somehow let him see the real Victoria—at least the one she wanted to become because of him.