Something Sweeter Page 10

  “Fun?” He looked up from turning the key in the ignition. “That couldn’t have been any more bizarre than if we’d dropped through the rabbit hole and discovered Alice brushing the Cheshire Cat’s teeth.”

  “Maybe. But I’m sure if you’re ever lonely and looking for a hot date, Arlene would be happy to help you out.”

  “Holy hell.”

  She giggled again. “I have to say, I do appreciate your efforts to educate me.”

  “Who knew? Between the two of them, they have a century of long-­lasting relationships under their aprons. I figured they’d be the experts.”

  “Awww.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Don’t feel too bad. What they lacked in actual information, they gained scores in the entertainment value.”

  “Yeah, because that was entertaining as hell.” He pulled the truck out onto the road. “When it wasn’t scary as shit.”

  She laughed again, and he realized how good the sound felt washing over him. Then she glanced at her watch. “It’s still early, and you promised me dinner.”

  “I didn’t exactly promise you dinner. I was just using that as an excuse to get the hell out of there.”

  “Too bad.” Her smoky gaze slid over him. “I expect you to make good.”

  He allowed his gaze to roam her in the same way. “Oh, I’ll make good all right.” He turned the truck onto Main Street. “You up for a real taste of Sweet?”

  “More barbecue?”

  “Nope. I’m going to drop you right in the hub of all the activity and gossip within thirty miles. And you better be serious about having an appetite because where we’re going they don’t serve pansy-­ass nouveau cuisine.”

  Several minutes later they pulled into a gravel parking lot next to a yellow concrete box of a restaurant with a big red neon sign that flashed BUD’S NOTHING FINER DINER. Allison remembered this as the place Jesse had suggested served up the best breakfast in town. Apparently, dinner was recommended too.

  The air surrounding the diner was scented with charbroiled burgers, crispy onion rings, and hot apple pie. Her stomach growled. Good thing she only planned to be in Sweet for a few days. Otherwise, she could easily pack on unwanted pounds with all the big heavy meals that were served.

  As Jesse again opened her door, she looked around and had to admit that Sweet was a charming little town with ancient buildings, some of which had recently been renovated. And, thinking of Gladys and Arlene, she could see that it obviously had no lack of characters.

  She glanced at the man who held out his hand to help her down from his ginormous truck.

  No lack of hot men either.

  Inside Bud’s Diner, she discovered a lively place with old-­time vinyl booths and big round tables in the center for easy conversations. The décor was all Texas all the time. Red, white, and blue stars and American flags highlighted the yellow walls. And while Allison knew she should be at her father’s house working on her next blog, she decided to just appreciate all that Sweet had to offer.

  Including the man beside her.

  They grabbed a booth near the door and just as they sat down, a blond ponytailed waitress passed by. Her tray was piled high with double-­decker burgers dripping with cheese, crispy golden onion rings stacked on a wooden dowel, and frosty milk shakes in old-­fashioned glasses.

  “Wow,” she said in awe. “I want that.”

  “A Diablo burger?” He laughed. “Where would you put it?”

  “I don’t know, but I’ll find room.” Determined, she waited until the waitress came up to their table to place her order. But when the attractive young woman with the swinging ponytail showed up, she held a tray piled high with plates of chicken fried steak and thick country gravy. Allison promptly changed her mind.

  “Hey, Jesse.” Allison watched as the two exchanged brief small talk. Then, before Jesse could make the introductions, their waitress turned to her with a big grin.

  “Hi. I’m Paige Marshall. Old family friend. I’ve got to deliver this order real quick, then I’ll be back to take yours.” She set a retro plastic menu in front of Allison but left Jesse’s paper place mat empty.

  “Doesn’t he need one?”

  Paige grinned. “He can probably recite the menu better than he ever could any of his school work.”

  “Or his little black book?” Allison asked.

  “That too. Which I’m sure would break a lot of hearts that think they’re the only one.”

  “Hmmm.” Allison picked up her menu and, tempted to order one of everything, did a quick scan.

  “Hmmm?” Jesse took a drink of the ice water Paige had left behind. “What’s hidden behind that little sound?”

  Allison lowered her menu and looked at him. “Just wondering why a guy like you, who has a little black book he knows by heart, insists on proving to me that commitment and relationships can make it for the long haul.”

  Those broad shoulders lifted as he took another sip of water. “It’s what I do.”

  She leaned in. “Exactly what is it that you do?”

  “Take care of ­people.”

  “Meaning?”

  “It would take far longer to explain than would hold your interest. And far be it from me to blow your whole idea of who I really am.”

  “So I’m wrong that you’re very happy playing the field?”

  “No.”

  “Or that you’ve slept your way from A to Z in that little black book?”

  The smile he gave her sent a marching army of zips and zingles through her highly alert nervous system. A smile that told her he was trouble. Not because he was trying to make any kind of move but because she knew there was a lot more going on behind that gorgeous face and killer body. She had a feeling he was a man of a lot more substance than he’d ever let on.

  Why?

  Hard to say.

  But wasn’t it going to be interesting to find out.

  “Apparently you’re pleading the Fifth,” she said.

  “No one ever said women had sole ownership on being mysterious.”

  “You may be right.”

  “There’s no maybe about it.” He leaned in. “So tell me more about yourself.”

  “Oh, I’m not really all that fascinating.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that? How about you start off telling me more about your event-­planning business. Is it something you always wanted to do?”

  “Truth? Not really. But I like helping ­people. And I like seeing them happy. So I guess my profession captures all of that.”

  He leaned back in the booth. “So what else is it you’d rather do?”

  “Aside from being a character at Disneyland and eating cotton candy every day?”

  An easy smile curved his mouth.

  “When I was younger, I wanted to be a counselor. I thought helping ­people deal with the issues in their lives would be a gratifying and honest way to make a living.”

  “But?”

  “But then I realized I was too screwed up to help anyone else.”

  “Looks like you turned out pretty okay to me. Except for the whole not believing in happily ever after thing.”

  His assessment moved her, but he was way off base. And she certainly didn’t want to openly give him any ammunition.

  “I’ve probably just become really good at hiding my crazy.”

  Before he could respond, Paige returned and took their orders. There were too many delicious choices, so Allison closed her eyes and dropped her finger to the menu. Her selection ended up a blue cheese burger—­hold the grilled onions, with sweet potato fries and deep fried pickles. She added a toasted marshmallow milk shake, then smiled as Jesse’s eyes widened.

  The order would be an intestinal nightmare, and she didn’t care. For the brief time she was in Sweet, she planned to forget that she
usually stuck to a dull plate of grilled chicken and vegetables. And maybe she could even forget that the men she’d most recently selected to date had been predictable and generally non–zingle worthy.

  Maybe it was time for a change.

  Even if it was only for a brief time.

  After Jesse placed his order for a mushroom cheeseburger, and Paige left the table with their orders, he leaned back and smiled. “I’m impressed.”

  “What, that I didn’t order a salad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Unlike you, Mr. Mysterious, I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “So says the girl who sent me to find her purse so she could disappear into the night.”

  “That was different.”

  “How so?”

  “We’re talking hamburgers versus the fact that you could have been dangerous.”

  “Who says I’m not?”

  Certainly not her heart.

  “Yeah, well, now I know who you are, and I’ll tell your mother on you.”

  “You’re an interesting woman, Allison Lane.”

  And you’re a hot guy I want to put my hands all over.

  “I’ll tell my clients you said that,” she said. “It will be good for business.”

  After Jesse’s brief interrogation of the current list of events her business was working on, their food arrived, and she wondered what she’d gotten herself into. The plate overflowed with sweet potato fries, and the burger literally dripped with bleu cheese. Before she could get too deep into thoughts of plop-­plop-­fizz-­fizz, she dipped a fried pickle in ranch dressing and bit into it. While she expected tartness, the taste was smooth and flavorful.

  “You like?” Jesse asked.

  She nodded. “I love.”

  “Welcome to the South, where if it isn’t deep fried, it doesn’t hit the plate.”

  “That’s an exaggeration.”

  “I can prove it’s not in just one day.”

  “How’s that?”

  “State fair. In just one food row, you can get chicken fried bacon, fried meat loaf, fried pecan pie, fried butter, and even a deep-­fried margarita.”

  “How do they fry that?”

  “It’s magic.”

  “And deep-­fried butter?”

  He grinned. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

  “Not knocking it. Afraid I might fall in love with it.”

  “So you do believe in love.”

  “Of the crispy kind. If it’s high-­volume cholesterol, I’m your girl. Otherwise . . . She lifted her shoulders. “Eh.”

  He pointed at her with a fry. “I’m going to change your mind about that.”

  How could she explain it wasn’t that she didn’t believe but that she was afraid to?

  For a few moments, they ate in silence. Mostly because she was too enthralled with the tasty meal. But that didn’t last long.

  Jesse licked the tips of his fingers. “When do you go back to Seattle?”

  She tried to ignore the little kick low to her belly as she watched his tongue dart out and capture the juice from his burger.

  “Day after tomorrow. My plane leaves at 10 A.M.”

  “Short visit.”

  “We’re heading into our busiest time of the year. Danielle would kill me if I were gone longer. She’s got two little girls who keep her busy plus a husband who often works odd hours.”

  “Which means he can’t always watch the kids?”

  She took a small bite of burger. “He might be an undercover detective, but he’s also a great dad and husband. But criminals don’t work on a regular time clock.”

  “So your sister has a good relationship with her husband?”

  She shook her head. “I can see where this conversation is headed.”

  “Just a simple question.”

  “Nothing is simple about you,” she said, and meant it.

  “So . . . your sister has a good marriage?”

  “My sister has a perfect marriage,” she admitted. “In fact, they’re my one hope that what you’re trying to prove to me is real.”

  He smiled, picked up his messy burger, and took a bite. “Good to know.”

  “Just because Dani and Andrew might beat the odds, I have to warn you not to get your hopes up that I’ll change my mind.”

  “So beautiful and yet so cynical.”

  She popped another fried pickle in her mouth, assuming a casual demeanor even though his words stung. “So handsome and yet so delusional.”

  Jesse Wilder smiled a lot. He didn’t disappoint when those sensuously masculine lips curled again and added to the desire in her belly. His words sparked another round of curiosity.

  “We’ll see.”

  Too bad she’d only be in Sweet another twenty-­fourish hours because she really wouldn’t mind finding out exactly what “We’ll see” meant.

  Chapter 6

  In a perfect world, dogs wouldn’t have noses that were smashed into their faces and made it hard for them to breathe.

  In Jesse’s world, he had the never-­ending task of explaining to their owners that pinched nostrils was a common problem with pugs and a few other breeds and that surgery was available to correct the problem. At a cost. To which their owners, like Mrs. Trambley, who was on a fixed income and currently sat across the desk from him, wept into their embroidered handkerchiefs because they couldn’t afford the procedure for poor little Prissy. Or Petey. Or Princess.

  Jesse knew he’d perform the intricate procedure, and Mrs. Trambley would take Prissy and her new snout home without paying a cent because he couldn’t say no.

  Especially today, when his mind was not on his work where it was supposed to be and instead was completely focused on a woman who was about to get on a plane and fly away.

  Oh sure, he’d see her again.

  Most likely at their parents’ wedding, where she’d stand in the background frowning because she didn’t believe the marriage would last.

  No doubt he’d had his moments of negative thoughts too. But mostly those had been when his feet were planted in foreign soil and he’d been fighting a war where so many young lives were lost. His brother’s included.

  Big difference.

  Bringing himself back around to the current issue of the day he helped Mrs. Trambley from her chair. “I don’t want you to worry. You make an appointment at the front desk with Abby, and I’ll make sure Prissy gets her new nose.”

  The elderly woman looked up at him with tears misting in her faded hazel eyes. “But I can’t—­”

  He patted her wrinkled hands where she clutched her beloved dog to her chest. “It won’t cost you a thing.”

  “Oh, Dr. Wilder.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “I don’t care what they say about you. I just think you’re wonderful.”

  He knew what they said about him, and he didn’t care, as long as nice ­people like Mrs. Trambley could go home a little happier. He escorted her to the front desk, where Abby wasn’t at all surprised that he’d be doing the procedure for free. Once the reception area was clear of pets and their owners, he leaned into the reception desk and picked up the appointment calendar.

  “You’re going to go broke giving away everything,” Abby said with a shake of her head.

  “According to the entire town, I give it all away anyhow, so no big deal.”

  She turned in her chair and crossed her arms. “When are you going to squash the rumor that you are not the manwhore everyone thinks you are?”

  “One of these days.”

  Abby leaked out a sigh. “Well, make it happen before Izzy gets older and has to explain to her friends about her uncle’s wild side.”

  He lowered the calendar and looked at his future sister-­in-­law and future stepmom to his adorable niece. “I never thoug
ht about Izzy’s having to deal with that.”

  “Apparently.” Abby chuckled. “Because the look of shock on your face is priceless.”

  He hesitated to respond because, honestly, he’d never thought of what his overblown reputation might mean to the younger set in his family. He didn’t necessarily care what his brothers thought, and his mom understood it was all BS.

  Maybe.

  He’d had a few serious relationships. One fairly recent though it seemed everyone except him had forgotten about that.

  “Don’t worry,” Abby said with a patronizing pat on his back as she stood and stuffed Prissy’s folder into the file cabinet. “I’m sure before that time comes, you’ll have settled down and changed everyone’s mind.”

  “Do I look like the settling down type to you?”

  She pushed in the file drawer, turned, and gave him a good hard look. “Yes. Not only do you look like the type, you are the type. All you Wilder boys think you have the market cornered on the whole badass-­bachelor thing. And you can keep on thinking that . . . up until the moment the right woman walks into your life.” She grinned. “I can say that because I’m the right woman for Jackson.”

  “Took him damn long enough to figure that out.”

  “Exactly.” She pointed at him. “Reno’s got Charli. Jackson has me. You’re next.”

  He let go a cynical laugh. Not only was he not next, he wasn’t even in line.

  Unbidden, an image of Allison sitting across from him at Bud’s last night popped into his head, and something funny happened in the center of his chest. At this moment, he didn’t understand why he had the strongest desire to go to her father’s house and stop her from driving to San Antonio and getting on that plane. And because she was leaving, he realized he didn’t have the time to figure it out.

  For some odd reason, that didn’t settle well.

  Ignoring the urge to further examine his feelings and the determined look on Abby’s face, he waved the appointment calendar. “Why are the next three hours blocked out?”

  “Because you and the boys have to go be fitted for tuxes. In case you forgot, Reno and Charli’s wedding is coming up fast, and you are the best man.”