Читать книгу Summer Nights - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 10
ОглавлениеCHAPTER FOUR
ANNABELLE TOLD HERSELF she would be the bigger person. Possibly for the first time in her life, she thought, managing a smile. Maybe she was making too big a deal out of what Shane had said. It’s just he’d obviously hated his ex and then to have him say she reminded him of the woman had been disconcerting. And okay, it had hurt a little.
“I need to learn to ride,” she said aloud, then squared her shoulders and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “For the bookmobile.”
She needed to keep her eyes on the prize. The festival to raise the money would culminate with the dance. She was the one who had said she would learn to do it. Someone had anonymously donated the money for riding lessons. It’s not like she was going begging.
Someone tapped on the driver’s side window of her parked car. She yelped and jumped in her seat, then saw Shane standing there.
Her first instinct was to drive back home. But she was already here and they needed to come to terms.
She hit the button to lower her window. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself. I wasn’t sure you’d show up.”
She tried to tell if he was pleased or disappointed, only his dark eyes were impossible to read.
“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly. “About what I said. I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”
“How did you mean it?”
He hesitated, then drew in a breath. “Can I pass on that one?” He reached through the open window and pulled up the lock, then opened her door and held out his hand. “I’d like very much to teach you to ride and teach one of the horses to do the dance. If you’ll accept my apology.”
If she’d been standing, she would have stomped her foot. Now he was being all nice and conciliatory. If she said no, she would look like she was pouting. Plus, she really did need the lessons.
“That would be great,” she said, and placed her hand in his.
For a second, she thought she felt a little tingle, but told herself she was imagining it. It had to be static electricity.
He helped her out of her car, then released her.
“I’ll get Mason,” he told her as he closed her car door. Shane suddenly stiffened and swore under his breath.
She turned and saw Khatar trotting toward them.
“I changed the lock on his gate,” Shane said. “Stay back.”
Annabelle ignored him and walked toward the beautiful white stallion. “He’s smart and handsome. Aren’t you, big guy? Who’s a clever horse?” As she spoke, she reached up and stroked his face.
Khatar stepped closer, as if eager to be near. He angled his body between her and Shane, then lowered his head so he could press it against her chest.
“You’re quite the kitten, aren’t you?” She looked over his ears toward Shane. “You should let me ride him.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is it because he’s expensive? I’ll be careful. Doesn’t he need exercise? Couldn’t I do that? He’s so sweet.”
“He’s not sweet.”
If he hadn’t looked so serious and worried, she would have laughed. “You must be confusing him with another horse,” she said, and wrapped her arms around the horse’s strong neck. “You wouldn’t hurt me, would you?”
“You can’t ride him.”
There was something in Shane’s tone. Something that made her want to stick out her tongue and remind him he wasn’t the boss of her. Not exactly mature.
She told herself this was his horse and he had the right to say who could ride him and who couldn’t. Still, Khatar was so friendly.
“Could I try?” she asked.
“No.”
“For a minute?”
“He’ll throw you then trample you.”
“He won’t. He adores me. I’ll show you.”
She was standing by the fence, with the horse between her and Shane. In one quick move, she climbed onto a lower rung and reached for the horse. Khatar moved toward her, turning to give her a better angle. Shane’s entire body stiffened as his face went white.
“Annabelle, don’t!”
His tone was frantic. She realized he wasn’t kidding about his concern. She started to get down, only to slip on the wood and start to fall. She caught herself by grabbing onto Khatar. He stayed perfectly still, as if wanting to make sure she didn’t get hurt.
Shane came around the front of him and stared. “Well, I’ll be.”
“Dangling here,” she reminded him, her feet flailing as she started to slip.
Shane reached for her and grabbed her around her waist.
“Give me a leg up,” she said.
For a second, he didn’t move, as if he couldn’t decide. Then he guided her foot to his thigh.
She pushed against him and found herself going up and over, then settling on Khatar’s back. There was no saddle, nothing to hang on to.
“This might have been a bad idea,” she whispered.
“That’s what I said.”
Khatar started walking. She hung on with her thighs and discovered she could easily adjust to his steady rhythm.
Shane watched them, then shook his head. “You win. I’ll get the bridle and we’ll see what he’s willing to do.”
He disappeared into the barn, then reappeared with the bridle. Khatar walked over and stuck out his head toward the leather straps. Shane slid the bit into his mouth and then adjusted everything and handed her the reins.
“Go for it,” he said.
They circled the barn a couple of times. When Shane held open a gate to a corral, she urged the horse in that direction and he did as she asked.
“He would look amazing painted,” she said.
Shane winced. “I can trace his bloodlines back three hundred years.”
“It’s water-based paint. It would come right off.”
“That’s not much in the way of comfort.”
“I have a costume,” she offered. “If that helps.”
“It doesn’t.”
“The ceremony also includes a male sacrifice. I’m supposed to cut out a guy’s heart.” She patted Khatar’s shoulder. “Not for real, of course. Just pretend.”
“Good to know.”
“I haven’t had any volunteers.”
“Are you surprised?”
He talked her through a series of turns, then whistled the horse into a trot. The bouncing of her entire body on his bare back wasn’t pleasant, but she survived.
“Had enough?” Shane asked a half hour later.
“I think my insides have turned into a milkshake.” Annabelle pressed her hand to her stomach. “But Khatar was great. I told you he was friendly.”
“Just for you.” He grabbed the reins and led the horse to the side of the corral. “You going to be able to stand when you touch ground?”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, hoping she wasn’t lying, then eyed the horse’s bare back. “What do I hold on to as I slide down?”
“I’ll catch you.”
She was less sure about that. Mason had been big, but at least there’d been a saddle to grab on to. With Khatar there was only his mane and she had a feeling that his good mood would disappear if she used that to lower herself to the ground.
Deciding she would be safer seeing what she was about to crash into, she swung her leg over his neck and sat facing Shane, then pushed off Khatar and slid down and down until her feet touched packed earth.
For a second she managed to keep her balance. Then her thighs gave way and she started to collapse.
“Didn’t we already do this?” Shane asked, grabbing her around the waist and holding her up.
“I thought I would do better,” she admitted, putting her hands on his shoulders and willing herself to stay upright.
The tingles she’d experienced earlier returned. Along with the zings and zips from the last time she’d been riding. Although it wasn’t the riding that seemed to be a problem. It was being held by Shane. And maybe problem wasn’t the right word. Complication seemed like a better fit.
Which was really interesting, because wasn’t she the one looking for messy? And weren’t complications really close to a mess?
He didn’t wear a hat, she thought absently. Weren’t cowboys supposed to wear hats? Not that she minded. His dark hair gleamed in the bright sun. He wore it short enough that the slight wave didn’t turn into curls.
His eyes were made up of various shades of brown and there were crinkles in the corners from when he smiled. Only he wasn’t smiling now. He was looking serious and sexy.
She told herself not to look at his mouth. Or think about what that mouth could do to her. So she kept her gaze on his eyes, which turned out to be equally dangerous, because it seemed to her a woman could get lost in his gaze. Get lost and never find her way back.
* * *
“I WAS AN IDIOT,” Annabelle said, poking at her salad with her fork. “I stood there like a fifteen-year-old with a crush on the football captain.”
“Did you babble?” Charlie asked before taking a bite of her burger.
“No. I ran. As soon as I could safely move without my legs giving way, I ran to my car and left.”
Charlie chewed, then swallowed. “I would have paid money to see that.”
“This is not you being supportive.”
They were having a quick lunch at the Fox and Hound. Annabelle had felt the need to confess her reaction and knew she could trust Charlie to keep the information to herself. Normally she would have told Heidi, too, but with Heidi engaged to Shane’s brother, it was feeling a little too incestuous as it was.
“So you wanted to have your way with Shane,” Charlie said. “Big deal.”
“I didn’t,” Annabelle protested, then dropped her fork. “Fine. I did. But I can’t. He’s teaching me to ride.”
“So? He’s a good-looking single guy. Last time I checked, you were single. What’s the big deal? He’s not a relative or your priest.”
“No, but…” She picked up her fork again. “This was easier when I worried he’d been dropped on his head.”
“Excuse me?”
“Never mind.” She took a sip of her iced tea. “All I wanted was to learn to ride well enough to do the traditional dance of the female warrior. It’s not a big dream, I know, but it was mine.”
“You’re still going to learn to ride. Shane will teach you. And if you’re very good, he’ll show you his manroot.”
Annabelle burst out laughing. “His what?”
Charlie grinned. “Okay, better. I couldn’t stand seeing you all depressed. You found a guy who probably thinks you’re hot. You want him. That’s good. Quit beating yourself up over that.”
“Manroot?”
“I read it somewhere.”
“I don’t think I want to ask where.” Her mood restored, she took a big bite of her salad.
Charlie was right. So she found Shane attractive. Lots of guys were. As to the tingles, she would think about them. Sure, he was a little too hung up on his ex, but that was all about passion, right? As long as he was totally over her. Because a man capable of that much feeling was the kind who put it all on the line.
“You’re about to launch into a recap of your pathetic love life, aren’t you?” Charlie picked up her burger. “Not every guy is your ex.”
“I know. No recap, I promise. This despite the fact that I married Lewis. I dated him, I trusted him, I thought I fell in love with him and I agreed to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“Are you sorry you left?”
“No. Of course not.”
Lewis had been older, by twelve years, a somewhat successful, nearly famous author. He’d impressed her with his intelligence, his worldliness. He’d traveled everywhere, had lots of interesting stories. He was always the center of attention, so when he noticed her, she felt special. Wanted.
But she’d discovered that Lewis’s stories were more fiction than truth and that while he seemed to know about many different topics, his information was superficial at best. He’d personified the concept of all flash and no substance.
“It took me a long time to figure out he wasn’t what I thought,” she admitted. “That he never really loved me, he loved what I represented.”
“The trophy wife?” Charlie asked dryly.
“A little. Which is strange because he was always telling me that I was lucky he’d married me. That no one else would want me.”
“Have you looked in the mirror?”
“Not lately.”
“You should.”
Annabelle smiled. “You’re a good friend.”
“I know. You should be sending me gifts and tweeting about my virtues on a daily basis.” She picked up a French fry. “We all have secrets.”
“What are yours?” Annabelle asked, not expecting an answer.
Charlie shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
Annabelle stared at her. “Want to elaborate?”
As a rule, Charlie didn’t talk all that much about her past. Annabelle knew that her friend hadn’t grown up in the area. That she was from somewhere back east. There had been hints of a difficult mother and a father who had died unexpectedly. But little else.
Charlie took a deep breath and seemed to steady herself before answering. “I was date-raped in college.”
Annabelle’s stomach clenched and the small amount of food she’d already eaten lurched threateningly. “No,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”
Charlie shrugged. “It happens.”
“No, it doesn’t. That’s awful.” She didn’t have a lot of experience with the topic and wasn’t sure what to say. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. Yes.” Charlie rubbed her forehead. “This is why I don’t usually mention it. It’s done and over. Only I can’t seem to move on.”
She drew in a breath. “I went on a date in college with this really good-looking guy. He played football and was a senior. The whole cliché thing, right? But I didn’t see it coming.”
Annabelle winced. “You thought he really liked you.”
“Exactly. Instead, he was using me for sex. Things went further than I wanted and when I tried to stop him, he raped me. I was a virgin and it was horrible.”
“Did you report him?”
Charlie’s mouth twisted. “Oh, yeah. I went to campus police and they brought him in. I was smart enough not to shower. There was DNA evidence.”
“Then I don’t understand. If you had proof…”
Charlie looked past her. “They didn’t believe me,” she said flatly. “I heard him talking to the cops. He actually laughed and said to look at me, then look at him. Was there even one person who wouldn’t believe I’d have to be begging him before he would put out?”
She returned her gaze to Annabelle. “The police had called my mother. When she showed up and met him, she came and told me it was rude to lead a guy on. And that I shouldn’t lie about something like being raped.”
Charlie’s expression never changed. Except for the tension in her mouth, there were no hints that something was wrong. Only Annabelle could guess the truth. That Charlie had been devastated, as anyone would be. But her pain had been worse because no one had taken her side and those she trusted most had thought it was a joke.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Yeah? Me, too.” Charlie picked up her burger, then put it down. “I keep telling myself it was a long time ago. That I’m over it. And I am. Sort of. But it’s why I don’t date.”
“You’re afraid to trust anyone.”
“A guy,” Charlie corrected. “I trust my female friends.”
Annabelle raised her eyebrows. “And yet you don’t want to date any of us.”
Charlie grinned. “You offering?”
“No, but I could ask around.”
“I’ll pass.”
“You haven’t dated at all since the attack?”
“A little. But it never goes anywhere.” Charlie’s smile faded. “It’s not like guys are lining up to ask or anything.”
“That’s because you make sure they know you’re not interested.” Annabelle turned the information over in her mind. “So you haven’t, um, you know, done it since?”
Charlie shook her head. “Why would I want to? It was horrible. Everything about that night was terrifying. It’s not like I miss it, right?”
Only her tone was slightly wistful.
Annabelle touched her hand. “You’re the strongest person I know, Charlie. And the bravest. You can’t let that jerk win.”
“He’s not.”
“Yes, he is. You’ve shut off an important part of yourself because of him. Maybe you don’t want to get married and have a family, but at least you owe it to yourself to find out. There are plenty of nice guys out there.”
“Do you see me with a nice guy?”
“At this point, I think it would be a very good idea.”
“He’s not winning,” Charlie repeated, but she sounded less sure. “I refuse to let him win.”
“Better,” Annabelle told her. “Have you thought about talking to a professional?”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Therapy? Hardly. I’d rather take out my issues on a punching bag.”
“Or the guy in question?”
“He’s not worth it.” Charlie sighed. “You’re right. I’ve ignored what happened for years. I guess I need to work through it or something and move on.”
“How can I help?”
“You’re doing it just by listening. Thanks.”
Annabelle nodded and returned to her salad. She no longer felt like eating, but knew that if she didn’t, Charlie would get on her case.
Although she hated what had happened to her friend, she was glad she knew the truth. The situation explained a lot about Charlie’s attitude on everything from trust to men. She had a long road back to find something close to normal. Still, Annabelle was confident she would get there and that her friends would want to make sure that happened.
* * *
“THANKS FOR MEETING ME,” Shane said as Annabelle got out of her car and walked toward him.
“You were very cryptic,” she said with a laugh. “How could I resist?”
Sunlight suited her, he thought, bracing himself for the inevitable rush of wanting. It delivered right on cue, as he took in the soft wavy curls, the pale skin and temptation in her green eyes. Heat flared, desire exploded and he found himself wishing they were alone someplace quiet and dark. Like his bedroom. Or hers. He wasn’t picky.
Instead they were in a parking lot outside his contractor’s office. In the middle of the day. On the edge of downtown Fool’s Gold. Not exactly the place for a rendezvous. Not that Annabelle was offering.
She approached on her ridiculously high-heeled sandals, her skirt flirting with her thighs. Her T-shirt was simple and shouldn’t have been sexy, but was, hugging curves in a way that made his mouth water.
She stopped in front of him and waited, obviously expecting him to explain why he’d asked her to join him here.
“I need help,” he said, hoping she didn’t realize how true that statement was. “I told you before, I’m having a house built, along with stables and corrals. I can handle the horse-related decisions. I know how big I want the stalls, where the windows will be placed and all the hardware I need for their safety.”
She smiled. “That’s good because I wouldn’t have a clue. So what’s the problem?”
“The house. Jocelyn keeps emailing lists of questions I have to answer and I don’t have a clue. Do you know how many light fixtures there are in a kitchen alone? Overhead, pendant, under counter. There are switches and finishes and appliances. Paint colors, flooring.” He didn’t want to think about it all. “I don’t have time.”
“Or interest,” Annabelle said with a grin. “Poor Shane. You’re such a guy.”
“Meaning?”
“You really do want a house kit. One that comes fully finished and all you have to do is pick the color of beige you want the walls before you move in.”
“What’s wrong with beige?”
She laughed.
He hadn’t been kidding with the question, but okay.
“I take it Jocelyn is your contractor?” she asked.
“Yes. She’s ready to break ground on the house, but I haven’t approved the plans. I thought about asking my mom for help, but she and Glen are traveling and Heidi’s busy with the wedding.” There was more he wanted to say but he was having trouble remembering it. There was something about the way she looked at him. It made him want to pull her close and…
He cleared his throat. “You’d mentioned you really like to decorate. If you help me with the house, I won’t charge you for the riding lessons.”
Her green eyes brightened. “Seriously? I have a donation to pay for them, but I could put the money into the bookmobile fund. That would be so great.” She paused. “Are you sure? I feel like you wouldn’t be getting your money’s worth.”
“It’s a lot of house.”
“Then sure. I’m happy to help.” She moved close and linked arms with him. “Can we get a pink tub in the master? I’ve always wanted a pink tub.”
Her breast pressed into his arm. He tried telling himself he wasn’t sixteen anymore and that this wouldn’t be the highlight of his day. But there were parts that didn’t believe him.
“No pink.”
“But it’s pretty.”
They headed for the office.
Once inside, he carefully stepped away, needing the distance. He couldn’t think when she was close and if he wasn’t careful, he would be agreeing to a pink tub.
Jocelyn, a no-nonsense woman in her early fifties, was waiting for him in her small office. She looked capable, managed her crew with a fair but firm attitude and had agreed to a clause in the contract that basically gave him her firstborn if she didn’t complete the stable on time. Just as good, she’d come highly recommended.
“This is Annabelle,” he said by way of introduction.
“You didn’t tell me you were married,” Jocelyn said, holding out her callused hand. “I always need to meet the wife. I know who’s the real power player in a relationship.”
Annabelle laughed. “Not the wife. Just a friend who’s going to help Shane with all the girly stuff.”
They shook hands. Jocelyn grinned. “Got frightened by the list of finishes, right?”
“It was a longer list than I was expecting,” he admitted.
“It always is.” Jocelyn ran her hand through her short-cropped gray hair. “My advice is to give him maybe three choices in every category. No more. Men can’t handle it.”
Shane wanted to protest being talked about like that, but his bringing Annabelle along to help sort of proved Jocelyn’s point.
She led them into a conference room where the plans were laid out on a huge table.
“I need approval on the size of the house,” she said, pointing to two chairs next to each other. “We can move walls around if need be, but I want to start pulling permits and reserving equipment. In a perfect world, we’d dig out the foundation in a couple of weeks, when we start on the stables.”
“You can get started that fast?” Annabelle asked, taking a seat.
“If I get a little cooperation. This one knew everything he wanted in the stable, down to the paint color in the office. But I’d swear, he’s never been in a house before.”
“I’ve been in them,” he grumbled, settling next to Annabelle, but being careful not to lean in too close. “I’ve never built one. There’s a difference.”
“Tell me about it.” She handed Annabelle a printed list of questions. “Get me the answers to these and I’ll be a fan forever. Before you leave, if possible.” She started toward the door. “Try to keep the yelling down.”
“We won’t yell,” Annabelle told her.
Jocelyn grinned. “Then you haven’t done this before, either. Trust me, honey, there’s always yelling.”
She left, closing the door behind her.
Annabelle drew the plans toward them. “It’s your house. We’re not going to argue.” She turned and smiled at him. “Because you’re going to listen to everything I say, right?”
Her gaze captured him, holding him in place. Not that he wanted to go anywhere. “Not likely.”
She chuckled, then turned her attention to the drawings. “Okay, the house. It’s nice. I like all the windows. There’ll be plenty of light in the winter. Big master. Good his and hers closets.” She shifted slightly and her hair slipped off her shoulder to rest on the back of his hand.
The curls tickled and teased, making him want to weave his fingers through the strands. Even without trying he could breathe in the scent of her. He swore silently, reminding himself he had to maintain control.
“Hmm.” She pointed to the kitchen. “This isn’t going to work. Look at where the pantry is. Around behind the refrigerator? That’s going to be a pain. And this wall here, closing everything off.”
“You need the wall for cabinets.”
“You need a wall for cabinets. There’s a difference. The kitchen itself is great, but it’s all catawampus.”
He drew back and grinned. “It’s what?”
“Catawampus? Askew. Turned around wrong.”
“I know what the word means.”
“I was trying to talk in cowboy terms. So we could relate to each other.”
“You don’t think we’re relating now?”
Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part but he would swear she leaned a little closer. And that her lips parted as she drew in a breath.
“I do, but I wanted to make sure.” She blinked a couple of times and turned her attention back to the plans. “All you’d have to do is shift everything ninety degrees. Then the kitchen would be open to the family room and the sink would still face a window. The pantry would be accessible, like this.”
She picked up a pencil and drew a couple of quick lines.
He was more intrigued by her reaction than what she was doing. Was it possible that she felt it, too? The connection? Talk about a game changer. Not that he was looking to get involved, but there was a whole country of possibilities between interested and involved.
“I’ll talk to Jocelyn,” he told her, still watching her as he spoke.
“You and I should probably schedule some time in the home improvement store so I can get an idea of what you like. For finishes and fixtures. That will help me narrow down the choices. I know everyone is crazy about granite, but I think there are a lot of manmade finishes you could consider. They’re so easy to take care of.”
More time with her? “Sounds like a plan.”
“Good.”
She turned toward him. Their faces were inches apart. Her mouth called to him in ways that left him hungry and determined. He wanted her and if she felt the same way—
“Shane?”
“Hmm?”
“What do you think of Charlie?”
It wasn’t the question he’d been expecting.
“Charlie Dixon?”
“Yes. She owns Mason. You’ve met her. What do you think of her?”
Of course he knew Charlie. He took care of her horse. “In what context?”
Annabelle smiled. “Romantically. Would you like to go out with her?”
He’d been thrown from his share of broncs, but never had he landed on his ass like this. He stared at Annabelle, wondering what he’d done to deserve it. All he wanted was a regular kind of life with a normal woman. Someone nice and caring, someone he would be faithful to and take care of. Was it asking too much?
With that description, Charlie should be exactly who he wanted. She was a walking, breathing definition of sensible. Instead he was driven mad by the bar-dancing, horse-whispering redhead in front of him.
“Shane?”
He did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed her by her shoulders, pulled her a couple of inches closer and kissed the hell out of her.
* * *
ANNABELLE HAD BEEN THINKING Shane would either say he liked Charlie fine or that she wasn’t his type. Honestly, she’d sort of been hoping for the latter, what with the tingles she’d started feeling when she was around him. But she hadn’t expected this.
His mouth was warm on hers. Firm, a little demanding, but only enough to keep things interesting. He smelled good, tasted better and he held on like he would never let go. A quality she could appreciate in a man. He was—
Need shattered her. One second she was enjoying how much she liked him kissing her and the next she was beyond frantic. Desperate, actually. She wanted to crawl into his lap and maybe inside of him. She wanted more kisses, along with some touching and even taking. Taking would be good. Very good.
She’d felt passion before, but nothing like this. Nothing had ever been so…desperate.
Moving as one, they stood, which was better. Now she could wrap her arms around his neck and lean into him. Now he could pull her even closer, then slide his hands up and down her back. She nestled against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against her curves. He wasn’t the kind of man who yielded easily. A characteristic she could get used to.
She angled her head so she could deepen the kiss. He moved the opposite way, then stroked her bottom lip with his tongue. She parted for him, hanging on to his shoulders, knowing it was going to be a wild ride.
He didn’t disappoint. At the first sweep of his tongue, fire danced through her. Her thighs heated, then went weak. The tingling returned, racing around her body before it settled in her breasts and between her thighs.
He kissed her deeply, teasing her tongue with his. She met him stroke for stroke, becoming more aroused by the second. His large hands settled at her waist. She wanted to pull them higher, to have him touch all of her. Tension made her surge against him, rocking her belly against his erection.
The proof of his need thrilled her. Although she’d managed to avoid being slutty for her entire life, right now the thought of doing it on the desk, right here, in the construction office, seemed feasible. Sensible even.
Shane broke the kiss and took a step back.
They stared at each other, their sharp breaths the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. A small measure of sanity returned, dulling the regret that he’d pulled away. Yes, it would have been amazing. Double yes, she would have had regrets.
But a girl could dream.
She cleared her throat, not completely sure she could speak in a normal voice.
“So, that would be a no on Charlie?” she asked.
“That’s a no.”
