Something Sweeter Page 4

  Dear God, what kind of crazy woman was her father marrying? “She names the hummingbirds?”

  He nodded. “But they all get the same name because, obviously, they’re so fast, it’s hard to tell who’s who.”

  “And that name would be?”

  “Pete.”

  “And the lizards?”

  “Larry.” He sighed. “They’re all Larry. And the snakes are Earl.”

  “She names the snakes?”

  “Sure,” he said, like it was totally normal to name slithery reptiles with fangs. “So when she goes out on the property and sees one, she won’t get freaked out because it’s just Earl taking a walk.”

  “I . . . ummm . . .”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Mom’s harmless. Just likes to have a little fun.”

  Fun definitely had a different meaning in Texas.

  “Well, it looks like your dog’s getting to know the place,” he said. “So how about you?”

  “Lead the way.”

  Before he did, he looked down at her feet. “You always wear those?”

  She glanced down at her strappy mile-­high wedges and remembered how cute she thought they were when she’d got them on sale at DSW. Although she had to admit they were designed for smooth concrete and carpet instead of gravel-­pitted dirt. “What’s wrong with them?”

  “In general, not a damn thing. Around a ranch? Dangerous. You planning on an extended visit?”

  Not if she could help it. “Not sure.”

  “Well, you might want to consider a pair of boots.” His big hand went to the small of her back and sent a tingle to other places on her body as he guided her through the big barn doors. “Or at least a pair of tennis shoes. Although if you plan to ride, you need boots. Tennis shoes would be dangerous.”

  “You sure have a lot of rules around here.”

  “And they’re always made to be broken.” He flashed that smile again—the one that said his thoughts were a thousand steps ahead of her. “So feel free.”

  Yep. She’d get right on that.

  “This is the barn.” His bite of sarcasm didn’t go unnoticed as he led her inside, where honey brown chickens clucked and scattered at their sudden appearance.

  “Interesting.” She looked around at the empty stalls, saddles, and big stack of hay bales. It was neat and tidy and looked like something she’d seen in a Western movie. Which was as close as she’d ever been to a horse. Or a cow. Or live chickens. Or a goat named Miss Giddy.

  “Equally interesting is why you were at Seven Devils last night . . .” Jesse’s smile disappeared, and a frown wrinkled between those blue eyes. “Seemed to zero right in on my brother. Then failed to mention who you were.”

  “I didn’t fail to do anything. I didn’t know who you were. I just went in to check things out.”

  “Right.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “Darlin’, I don’t know you. So why would I believe you?”

  Good point.

  “I’ll just assume that you make a habit of kissing strange men in dark parking lots before sending them off on a wild-­goose chase to get rid of them.”

  “I do not—”

  One slash of brow lifted, and she couldn’t tell if it was raised in amusement or regret. “All you had to do was say no.”

  And that was the problem.

  She wouldn’t have.

  She’d been on a sexual dry spell longer than the drought in the Southern states, and he was just way too tempting. Not that she was the kind to sleep around with every hot guy she met, but for him, she might have made an exception. No way in hell would she let him know that little tidbit of insanity. Especially now that she knew he was the son of the woman her father planned to marry.

  Whoo boy, what a mess.

  “Look,” she said. “No offense, but I don’t date guys like you.”

  “Wasn’t exactly looking for a date. If you remember, you said you were just passing through.” Those thick-­muscled arms folded across his chest. “And what exactly do you mean by guys like me?”

  Oh, so now he’d gotten his feelings hurt?

  “I thought you were assigned to show me around,” she said. “So how about we get to it?”

  He studied her for a moment. Those incredible eyes moved down her body as if recording her assets and deficits for his own personal gain.

  “Ah,” he said as though he’d discovered a box of treasures. “I get it now.”

  “You get what, exactly?” Her shoulders came up as she tried to make herself look big and bad though she didn’t know why other than she didn’t like his tone.

  “You know, it’s not fair that you women look like that and only play for the other team.”

  “Look like what?”

  “A man’s walking sexual fantasy.”

  She looked like a man’s walking sexual fantasy?

  Sweet.

  “Who says I play for the other team?”

  “Come on.” He shook his head. “It’s obvious you don’t like men. Starting with the pathetic name you gave your dog and ending with the way you ran out last night.”

  “For your information . . .” She stuck a finger in his chest. “I love men. Just not players who are too pretty for their own good and assume every woman around will fall at their cowboy boots.”

  “See. There you go again,” he said. “Men aren’t pretty.”

  “Looked in the mirror lately?”

  His surprised expression nearly made her laugh.

  “And I noticed you didn’t bother to deny the player part,” she added.

  “I just have a fine appreciation of women.”

  “Uh-­huh.” She patted that amazing chest and seemed to have some trouble removing her hand from the skin-­warmed cotton. “You keep telling yourself that, bucko.”

  “Bucko?”

  Time for diversionary tactics. “So what’s that up there?” she asked, pointing to the door above the stairs.

  “Nice try, buckette. But I don’t think this conversation is over.” His squared chin jutted out, making him look even more tenacious if that was even possible.

  “Really?” She gave him a fluttery bat of her eyelashes.

  “Really.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, then came back up.

  “Well, since you don’t know me, and—”

  “Darlin’, last night I had my mouth on yours and my hands on your ass. That’s a damned good start of getting to know you, don’t you think?”

  What she thought was that in her business, she met a lot of men. But she was almost one hundred percent sure she’d never met a man as exasperating as him. Or as sexy. Or . . . oh yeah. She needed some distance.

  And a cold drink.

  Preferably one with a little kick.

  “What I think is . . . I would appreciate it if you would please pretend to be the hospitable tour guide my father obviously believes you are and finish our little excursion. Then, I’d like to collect my dog and get back to getting to know the rest of you Wilders with the hopes that they won’t be quite as unbearable as you.”

  With a swift turn, she headed toward the open barn doors, cursing as her wedge slipped. Her ankle twisted on a small rock and forced her shoe to land in something . . . gross. She didn’t even want to know what that was.

  As she disregarded the sound of male hilarity, she couldn’t help wonder why anyone would choose to live where animals just pooped wherever they wanted.

  And where men were far too tempting to ignore.

  Chapter 3

  “Something’s not right about her,” Jackson said from the picnic table where Jesse and Jackson sat long after dark and watched Allison Lane. Jackson sipped his fresh bottle of Shiner. “Can’t put my finger on it though.”

  Allison currently stood
near the blazing fire pit, talking to Jake, who was having a hell of a good time putting on the flirt.

  Who could blame him?

  Baby brother had been tromping across the sands of Afghanistan for too long, dodging bullets, IEDs, and figuring out how to stay alive. The hot brunette was probably the first pretty sight Jake had seen in a long time. Which was not a slight against women in camo. Women in the military were more likely to be focused on flying F-­15s, defining logistics, or honing their lifesaving medical skills than the newest brand of lash-­lengthening mascara.

  Didn’t mean Jesse had to like the attention his little brother was pouring on the newcomer. Though he’d have a hard time explaining why that bothered him so much. It wasn’t like he’d been the one relatively quarantined from the fairer sex for so long. Maybe he wasn’t the manwhore everyone in town thought he was, but he still didn’t do too shabby when it came to his own share of female admiration. In fact, Allison might be the first to shy away from his attention.

  Scratch that.

  She didn’t shy away, she ran like hell.

  Which opened the door for all kinds of whys and whats and how comes.

  “What do you mean something’s not right?” he asked, as Jackson’s frown tightened.

  “See the way she keeps watching Mom? Like she thinks she’s sneaking a glance. Why would she do that?”

  Jesse shrugged. “Maybe she’s just trying to figure things out. Maybe she’s just as surprised as the rest of us that our parents decided to get married after such a short time of knowing each other. Maybe—”

  “Stop! You’re making my brain hurt.”

  Jesse took a drink from his beer and watched as Allison sipped from an ice-­filled Mason jar full of his mother’s specially blended watermelon cooler. And . . . yep . . . she snuck a glance in their mother’s direction.

  While she pretended to be interested in whatever line of BS Jake was tossing her way, she clutched her poor dog with the emasculating name against her like he would protect her from the big bad Marine. At least she hadn’t forced the terrier to wear a rhinestone collar or those humiliating dog clothes.

  Judging by all that heavy panting—the dog’s, not Jake’s—all the pooch really wanted was to be let loose so he could hang out with Charli’s equally energetic poodle, Pumpkin. Another ridiculous moniker. What was it with pet owners and the crazy names they chose? In his business, he’d pretty much heard them all—from Zeus to Peanut and everything in between. Wee Man, however, might top the list.

  The rest of the family began to congregate around the fire pit, pulling up chairs and blankets or whatever they needed to be comfortable. They’d always been a family who liked to gather, often sitting around a campfire or the kitchen table for hours discussing everything from cattle branding to whether Steven Seagal could actually be considered a movie star. No need to change that for some out-­of-­towner who would most likely only stay a day or two.

  Sadly, as the out-­of-­towner pretended to be interested in what Jake had to say and pretended not to be covertly watching every move his mother made, Jesse couldn’t stop watching her. Or the way she moved in those tight jeans. Or the smile that flashed perfect white teeth. Or the way she tilted her head back just a little when she laughed. Or the way her silky hair fell down her back in a cascade of loose waves.

  At some point in his life, he might have been more sexually aware of a woman, but damned if he could remember who or when.

  Snap. Snap. “Earth to Jesse.”

  Amid the current fire-­pit conversation of how many tattoos were too many—himself possessing only two at that point in time—he glanced up to find Jackson grinning like a damned fool. “What?”

  “I heard you and Reno had a little encounter last night at Seven Devils.” The grin widened. “Anything I need to know about?”

  “Nope.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Caught you staring.”

  “At what?” Like he didn’t know.

  Jackson gave a nod in Allison’s direction.

  “What are you, five?” Jesse held back an eye roll. “I’m just appreciating the package.”

  “Never noticed the package.”

  “Right.”

  Jackson shook his head. “I’ve got Abby. I’ve always wanted Abby. Why would I look elsewhere?”

  “Guys look.”

  “Not guys who are crazy in love and not afraid to admit it.”

  “You are so whipped.”

  “No shit. And damned happy to be.” Gingerly, Jackson stood up from the picnic bench, favoring the leg he’d broken in a firefighting accident a few months before. He pointed at Jesse with his bottle of Shiner. “You will be too someday.”

  “Uh-­uh.” Jesse held up his hand. “Established bachelor here.”

  “Oh how the mighty will fall.”

  “Not gonna happen, jackass.”

  Jackson just grinned as he walked away.

  And so the game played on.

  As Jesse glanced at the ­couples gathered, he couldn’t fight the twinge that settled in his heart. He, probably more than most, believed in commitment. The relationship with his last serious girlfriend had ended over two years ago. Since then, he’d pretended to have an aversion to the holy sanctity of relationships. And while he’d been the inventor of the game in order to see everyone else’s happiness secured before he could even think about his own, he’d sadly become pretty good at playing by the rules. He cleverly continued to come up with a thousand excuses for not looking for his own Ms. Right. But eventually, he had to run out. Hopefully, by then, everyone would be settled and wouldn’t notice that he’d been feeding them a line of bullshit a mile long.

  From the moment their oldest and wisest brother had been killed, he’d pulled up his big-­boy pants and found a way to help everyone else carry on. He hadn’t always succeeded, and in his eyes, that was unacceptable.

  Only two ­people would understand the passion behind his reasons for being so committed to this task. Neither was still alive. So Jesse was on his own, to keep his reasons confidential, to uphold a promise, and to do what he could to help his family find peace.

  When Reno found Charli and almost let her slip through his foolish fingers, Jesse had needed to insert a little brotherly advice. Just as he had when Jackson had almost lost Abby. The only brother left to take care of was Jake. With Jake’s exuberant personality and spirited outlook, Jesse figured he’d be the easiest to handle when the time came.

  Then again, who knew? Life was often unpredictable.

  He stole a glance across the fire to where Allison sat within the glow of the dancing flames that only enhanced her mystique.

  It wasn’t his turn at a chance for happiness.

  Not even when he might have met a woman he was wildly and inexplicably attracted to.

  He was the last to join the group circling the fire. For a moment, he just stood there looking at the lucky ­couples, the sweet little girl curled up on her daddy’s lap, the contented animals—­including Miss Giddy, who’d stretched out by his mother’s feet.

  Something hit him in the center of his chest that took his breath away.

  He couldn’t claim to be the creator or the glue that held everything together. And he’d be a fool not to believe the man who’d set the wheel spinning wasn’t trying to help from the other side. But sometimes he needed to just take a moment to breathe and feel the love. Because sure as shit, something would pop up and threaten to put the kibosh on utopia.

  “So what is it you do in Seattle, Allison?” Charli asked as she snuggled closer to Reno.

  “I own and operate Happiest Day Events.”

  “You’re a wedding planner?”

  “An event planner,” Allison said quietly as though she was uncomfortable talking about herself. “We do equal amounts of b
irthdays, anniversaries, and weddings.”

  Jesse noted that last night she’d been animated and funny. In the barn earlier, she’d been outspoken. So here was yet another side of the woman he’d discovered in a short period of time. Curiosity forced him into the empty Adirondack between Reno and Abby.

  “She’s in high demand,” Martin said proudly. “Puts together all sorts of incredible parties. Threw one for the retirement of an Alaska Airlines bigwig just last month on a luxury yacht.”

  “Oh, I wish I’d known. I’ve been driving everyone crazy with our wedding plans,” Charli said, tossing Reno an apologetic look.

  “I’ve seen your creativity,” Allison said. “I’m sure it will turn out beautiful.”

  “Charli’s always watching those wedding shows,” Reno said. “It shocks me how much ­people pay just for a dress.”

  “And now the new photography trend is to set the dress on fire.” Allison shook her head. “They’re calling it ‘trash the dress.’ Not something I’d ever recommend. Aside from its being dangerous, it makes no sense. Our mission is to provide economical, personalized events. We believe the greater amount of the budget should be spent in areas where the memories are more tangible and long-­lasting. No one remembers if the plastic forks were clear or white or if the party favors were bottles of bubbles or containers of candy, but when they look at a photo, they remember exactly how they felt at that moment.”

  “How many ­people do you employ?” Jesse asked. Though he knew nothing of the event-­planning business, he did understand the details and significance of being an employer. Taking on the challenge of that level of responsibility said a lot about a person. Whether he liked it or not.

  “I have a staff of three including my sister. I’d like to hire more as soon as the economy picks up.”

  “How did you get into party-­planning?” his mother asked.

  Jesse watched Allison settle back a little more, cross her ankles, then tuck her feet beneath the chair. She looked anything but relaxed. The hot seat was an uncomfortable place to sit. He knew. He’d been there a few times himself.

  “My dad actually got me into the business.” She smiled at him. “I’m sure you’re familiar with his chain of party stores.”