Something Sweeter Read online

  “You don’t need to convince me that your mother’s a good person.”

  “Darlin’?” He eased back and looked her in the eye. “I’m not trying to convince you my mother’s a good person. I’m trying to tell you how I was raised. Why I think the way I do. Why I believe that not only does true love exist and the tradition of marriage work, I believe it’s an incredible gift.”

  He eased her back into his arms, and she could feel the strong thump of his heart against her breast.

  “Then if you feel that strongly, why aren’t you married?”

  “It’s not my turn.”

  “Come on, there’s more than that.”

  “Just haven’t found the right woman.”

  “You certainly seem to be making your way through enough to find one.”

  “Like I said, don’t believe everything you hear.”

  Later, when Jesse walked Allison back to the truck, he found himself fighting a losing battle.

  He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that everyone had amazing parents and wonderful role models. But he did feel sad for those who’d not lived with the familial security he’d had growing up. He knew too well the anguish of loss, but at least he’d never lost his faith that all things were possible.

  In the past few days, it had become clear that Allison might very well be incapable of sharing those same principles. And that made him want to work all the harder to get her to believe.

  Why?

  Not a clue.

  Other than he was wildly attracted to her. And that he cared. And maybe also that he was unable to act on any of the surprising feelings he’d quickly developed. He had a sense he was getting in too deep. But for whatever reason, he couldn’t stop.

  When they reached his truck, he opened the door for her. She turned at the last second and looked up at him through the shadows. His gaze swept over her face and lingered on her luscious mouth.

  “Did your mother’s parents ever apologize for misjudging your father and disowning your mother?” she asked.

  He shook his head, and her hopeful smile slipped away.

  “They stuck to their beliefs and waited for the moment they’d be able to say “I told you so.”

  “That’s awful.”

  “My parents were married for thirty-­six years, until my father died of a broken heart. My mother’s parents are still alive. After Jared was born, they moved to Missouri. They’ve never spent one minute with any of us. I know everyone says it’s their loss, but I find it sad that they’ve missed out on our lives, and we’ve been cheated getting to know them. All because they were too stubborn to change their minds.”

  He could tell the statement struck home when she lowered her eyes.

  “Sometimes change is not as easy as ­people think,” she said.

  That smoky gaze came back up, and he found himself drawn into the flashes of silver and gold, the heat and the passion that lingered in those dark depths. Before he could stop himself he cupped her face in his hands and leaned in.

  “It’s always worth a try,” he said, wanting to kiss her so bad he ached. Their lips were a breath away when sanity slammed into him like a runaway train. He dropped his hands. Tried to catch his breath. And cursed the circumstances.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “That can’t happen.”

  “But you want it to?”

  Words tangled up on his tongue, so he just nodded.

  “Me too.” She reached up, slid her hand to the back of his neck, and lifted to her toes.

  Before he knew it, her lips were pressed against his, and he was absolutely helpless to do anything but pull her into his arms.

  The kiss was slow and sweet, and it knocked his heart into unfamiliar territory. But it was wrong, and he had to remember that she wasn’t just someone passing through. She wasn’t someone to have a good time with, then not bother to call the next day. She was his mother’s fiancé’s daughter. She was someone who didn’t hold to his beliefs. And no matter how much his body ached to have her, he could not.

  He took one last taste of her. Let her flavor linger on his tongue. Then he let her go and stepped back.

  “New rule,” he murmured. “In the future, I think it would be wise if we kept a good distance between the two of us.”

  She gave a slow blink. “Are you sure about that?”

  No. He nodded. “Get in the truck, Allison. Before I do something really, really stupid.”

  Chapter 8

  As a rule, Allison made it a priority not to crawl out of bed until the hands on the clock hovered somewhere around 6 A.M. This morning, however, she’d been up before the crack of dawn, and it didn’t even have anything to do with Wee Man using her bed as a springboard.

  Sleep had evaded her since Jesse had brought her home last night, walked her to her father’s door, and said a hasty good night. His abrupt “See ya later” had been a complete 180 from earlier in the evening, when he’d held her in his arms and kissed her. She didn’t wonder if she’d ever been kissed like that before. She hadn’t. But that had been before he’d backed off like she had some terrible disease.

  Hours later, she sat at her father’s kitchen table as the sun peeked up over the hilltops, and she tried to put the finishing touches on her blog. She’d spent the greater part of the night attempting to put her thoughts into words and had kept going until she’d literally fallen asleep with her fingers on the keyboard. While her typical posts might run two to five hundred words, the dilemma de Jesse ended up over three thousand.

  A huge red flag waved before her eyes.

  As cathartic as writing the post had been, nothing in the piece could ever be shared. It was a total outpouring of emotion that included her confusion over her own feelings as well as Jesse’s intentions and his artistic style of backpedaling once he’d kissed her.

  He’d kissed her.

  When the intensity of that memory fluttered through her stomach, she set down her coffee cup and touched her fingers to her lips. She could still imagine the sensation of his soft, masculine lips. The tingles the kiss had invoked and left in its wake. And then, like a dark shadow, the truth of what had actually taken place last night slammed into her brain.

  He hadn’t kissed her.

  She’d kissed him.

  And he’d soundly rejected her.

  After he’d kissed her back.

  Crap. Now she was more confused than ever.

  What the hell was going on between the two of them? She had no business allowing herself to give in to a whim like that.

  But had it really been a whim?

  Hadn’t she been thinking of him day and night since she’d arrived in Sweet? If she was the fanciful type, she might think some kind of love potion had been dropped into her drink that first night.

  Not a love potion.

  A hot-­to-­trot potion.

  Facts were facts. Jesse Wilder made her mouth water, and she wanted him. She wanted to feel her hands on him. To taste him. To feel his hands on her. To feel him deep inside her while he made her moan like a crazy woman. That was it. That was all she felt for him. He just turned her on, and she wanted a piece of that action.

  Liar.

  A glance at the words on the screen of her laptop revealed the truth. Not a single damn one of them had anything to do with sex.

  Without mentioning him by name, all those words spoke of matters of the heart. Hers. They spoke of the way she viewed him as a strong, caring man who, on the outside, appeared to live life in the fast lane without a care in the world, yet on the inside took life very seriously. And he loved deeply. Which was even a bigger turn-­on than his incredible body.

  And that really said something.

  Her words had to do with her own desire to hope that there could possibly be a man out there who might dare to love her w
ith the same devoted passion that she knew lived deep in Jesse Wilder’s heart.

  Pure fantasy.

  A man like Jesse could never love someone like her that way.

  Proof?

  He’d barely contained his panic when she’d thrown herself at him last night.

  Some things she knew to be true. She was a walking, talking relationship nightmare. Any man who’d willingly choose to get involved with her would have to have a screw loose.

  With a simple click of the mouse, she highlighted all the emotionally charged words she’d written. Words that unlocked the overflowing vault of confusion, desire, and her ridiculous hope.

  As her finger hovered over the delete key, her phone vibrated on the table next to her, and a text from Danielle popped up.

  U up?

  Allison poked at the touch screen. Yeah. Y r u?

  Lily has flu. Need u back here now.

  No can do. Allison sighed. Promised to fix things for wedding next week.

  Please don’t do this 2 me. I have mommy guilt.

  Apologies. Do what you need 2 do. Reschedule appts. Work from home. Whatever it takes. Don’t worry.

  EZ 4 u 2 say.

  When the icon on her phone continued to blink, she knew her sister had moved on to freak out another day. Allison picked up her coffee cup. She sipped at the tepid brew while reading over her highlighted post again. Once upon a time, she’d created the blog to allow herself an anonymous place to vent. A place to question things about relationships she didn’t understand. A place to listen to her followers, who often offered sensible words of advice she couldn’t ignore. She’d never held back before. She shouldn’t start now. Especially when she could really use some words of advice. So what could it hurt?

  Instead of hitting the delete key, she opened up her blog and added her long missive to NEW POSTS. Before she chickened out, she clicked PUBLISH and shut down her laptop.

  Too late now.

  Time to move on.

  She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and grabbed the notepad where she’d doodled out possible solutions for Charli and Reno’s wedding. Next item on the list—­a florist to replace the one who’d had to temporarily close up shop.

  Yesterday, she’d called florists in both San Antonio and Austin, but at this late notice no one was able to take on the job. Tapping her pen against her chin, several ideas sprouted in her head. In the end, there was really only one fabulous solution. She grabbed her phone and hit her contact list. Even knowing he wouldn’t be up at this hour, she pressed CALL. Antoine, Seattle’s super florist, picked up almost immediately.

  “Allie boo! Where are you?”

  She nearly groaned at the ridiculous name he chose to call her. It didn’t even make sense. “I’m still in Texas.”

  “Oooh, have you seen any hot cowboys yet?”

  Had she ever. “A few.”

  “Care to bring one home for me?”

  “I thought you were in love with Garrett.”

  “Oh, sweetie, Garrett is so last week. I’ve moved on.”

  “To who?”

  “Benny. He’s a new performer at Gaybaret. His stage name is Cherry DeVine. Isn’t that precious?”

  “Adorable.” Some gay men fell in love and entered into committed relationships. Antoine entered therapy. Often. But he was a great friend, and his floral skills couldn’t be beat. If the truth were told, she held a very special place in her heart for him because they were both so much alike. They both loved men, yet neither of them seemed to have the stick-­to-­it gene in their blood. “I need a favor. How booked are you for the weekend after next?”

  “Uno momento . . .” His singsong response made her smile.

  Allison waited while he tapped out scheduling info on his ever-­present MacBook.

  “We have four events.”

  “Can you squeeze in a fifth?”

  “For you, anything.”

  “Can you bring your badass self to Texas to make it happen?”

  “Hmmm. What gives, Allie Boo?”

  “Are you familiar with makeover show host Charlotte Brooks?”

  “Love her. Was so disappointed when she quit the show.”

  “She’s getting married to the cowboy she met during the Sweet, Texas, episodes. Her local florist had a family emergency, and—­”

  “Sweetie! Say no more. You had me at cowboy.”

  “Thank you. I’ll e-­mail you the specifics. Charge it all to my account, including your airfare and whichever assistant you bring. I’ll arrange your lodging.”

  “Where do I have everything shipped to?”

  “Wilder and Sons Hardware and Feed.” She rattled off the address.

  “Seriously?”

  “Would I kid you?”

  “It sounds like you’re out in the boondocks.”

  “I am. And you know what?” She smiled. “It’s kinda awesome.”

  “Then count me in.” Antoine gave a long sigh. “I want a slice of that.”

  Allison ended the call just as her father came into the kitchen.

  “Good morning, little girl.” He kissed her forehead, and, once again, she realized how much she’d missed him. “You’re up early.”

  She poured them both a cup of coffee. “I’ve been striking out with all the florists in the area, so I called in a favor.”

  “Antoine?”

  “Yeah. He’s flying in.”

  “That’s going to cost a pretty penny.”

  “Not for Charli and Reno. I’m covering it.”

  He lowered his cup and looked at her. “You are?”

  She nodded. “I couldn’t stand to see them disappointed if their special day didn’t turn out as they’d envisioned.”

  A slow smile lifted her father’s entire face. “You never cease to surprise me.”

  “What can I say?” She shrugged. “I like them. They deserve a chance.”

  “I’m so proud of you.” Fatherly arms wrapped around her. “And I hope you understand that you deserve a chance too.”

  When it came to finding true love, she had a better probability of winning the lottery she never played.

  As Allison parked Jared Wilder’s big-­ass truck near Jana Wilder’s barn and opened the door, Wee Man sprang to the ground. Miss Giddy, who sported a pretty pink satin ribbon around her long brown neck, greeted them.

  “Meh-­eh-­eh.”

  At the goat’s cheerful hello, Allison laughed. Wee Man got down on his front legs and playfully wiggled his back end. Seconds later, the two of them took off like old friends. Never in her wildest imagination would she have imagined her dog would be BFFs with a farm animal. And never would she have imagined she’d think that was pretty cool.

  “Good morning,” Jana called from the veranda.

  Last night, when Allison had been dancing with Jesse, it became clear how much he respected his mother, how much his parents had loved each other, and how the death of his brother and father had brought his mother to her knees. During that conversation, Allison had gained a new respect for Jana. For all the Wilders.

  “If you’re game for some several-­hours-­old coffee,” Jana said, “come on in, and I’ll pour you a cup.”

  Allison closed the truck door and walked across the gravel drive to meet up with her future stepmother. The woman never failed to delight with her untethered enthusiasm and Southern hospitality. It didn’t matter how many chinks Allison tried to find in Jana’s armor, she always came up empty.

  “Actually, I came over here to ask a favor.”

  A smile that closely resembled Jesse’s flashed. “Whatever you need.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

  “Doesn’t matter. At one time or other we all need something. It’s just good if there’s always someone on the o
ther end to help out.”

  Tempted to shake her head in disbelief, Allison returned her smile. She knew if she asked a favor of her own mother, the immediate response would be quite different.

  “After my shameless prompting, Charli and Reno have decided that Jesse’s backyard will be the perfect spot for their reception. Change-­of-­venue notices will go out to guests in the mail tomorrow,” Allison said. “I’ve contacted the party-­rental store, and everything Charli previously ordered, plus the addition of a portable dance floor, will now be delivered to Jesse’s house.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Jana clapped her hands together. “My son has done a beautiful job with his house and yard, and he’s never been able to show it off to anyone but the family.”

  “He must have worked with a wonderful landscaper.”

  “With the exception of pouring the plaster for the pool, he did everything himself. Including the backhoe to dig the pool and spa.”

  “He did everything?” Why that surprised her she didn’t know. He seemed quite capable of accomplishing whatever he put his mind to.

  “Every tree. Every shrub. The pavers and tile. You name it.”

  “Impressive. But then I have to wonder why he’s left the inside of his house such a blank slate.”

  “Maybe doing all that work outside just wore him out.”

  Or maybe he was afraid to make it too inviting so the women who visited wouldn’t get any commitment ideas in their marriage-­minded heads.

  “Well, the favor I want to ask involves that very subject,” Allison said. “I’ve heard whispers of the treasure trove you have up in the barn, and I wondered if I could borrow a few items to add a little personality to the interior of his house for the reception. Just so it looks a smidge more complete in case anyone wanders inside. And also . . .”

  “What?”

  “I think he deserves to be able to come to a house that feels like a home and not just a temporary landing place.”

  “That’s an excellent and very thoughtful idea.” Jana tucked her arm through Allison’s and led her inside the huge wooden structure that apparently not only housed some livestock but an entire antiques store.