She’s holding back, and I can’t get her to open up to me. It’s frustrating because I feel like we’re perfect for each other. We’re both into classic cars and small batch local brews, Spaghetti Westerns and car restoration shows.
She knows more about me than I’ve ever told another living soul, and she hasn’t turned tail and run. Instead, she listens with a quiet ease that makes me spill my guts some more, never judging me for any of it.
And the way she waxes on about her Cougar that we’re fixing up is sexy as hell. I’m a die-hardChevy man. So, that’s saying something. She loves working in the garage as much as I do and knows her way under the hood. Seeing that generous ass of hers in the air with her luscious dark locks streaming down her back as she wrenches away on an engine?—
Faith pulls me back from my daydreams, leveling her gaze on me. “If things don’t work out between us, everything could get awkward. We could even end up hating each other like Birdie and Zane.”
In high school, you couldn’t keep Faith’s sister, Birdie, and my foster brother, Zane, apart. Now, they can’t be in the same room. After leaving the Navy, Birdie came home to take care of her mother who was diagnosed with early Alzheimer’s. After Mrs. Jenkins went into memory care, Birdie became a local home health nurse, and my foster dad, Wyatt, is one of her patients. So, now she and Zane have to see each other every day.
I haven’t asked Faith how her sister feels about the arrangement—but the last time I checked in with Zane, a prolonged string of four-letter words summarized his answer.
“Comparing us to Birdie and Zane is like apples and oranges. It’s not the same thing.” I stare at her generous, rosy lips, feeling the last tendrils of self-control fraying. “Come on. Live a little. Go out with me.”
I level my gaze, and she meets mine with an assertiveness I adore. “Travis Cartwright, we may be friends?—”
“Best friends,” I interject.
She nods, “But I know you’re trouble, and that’s the last thing I need right now.”
“I think it’s exactly what you need.”
Putting her hands on her hips, she shakes her head stubbornly. “And why would you say a thing like that?”
“Because I know you, and I know that innocent girl act you put on for the good people of Hollister isn’t the real you. You’re a lot more like me than you care to admit.”
She laughs, “Now, you’ve gone off your rocker.”
“You may be more sheltered than I am by a long shot. I’ll give you that. But you like having fun and need to try living it up a little. You’re not afraid of taking risks. Hell, look at the way you ride horses. And your choice of American muscle? Well, that’s not your average good girl’s car. There’s a fire in your eyes longing to get out. You know, do something crazy, howl at the moon every now and again. But the way you want this town to see you keeps holding you back, and it’s a damn shame.”
“Unlike you, Travis, I have to care about how other people perceive me. I’m a business owner, and it’s important to keep up appearances.”
It’s keeping up appearances that’s keeping us apart. This town has each of us pegged in a hole we can’t get out of. I’m known as the good-time guy, a bad boy to the core, even though my player days ended the moment I realized how deeply I feel for Faith. And she’s clinched the hometown sweetheart role, requiring perennial wholesomeness and perfection.
Making matters worse, she’s a member of one of the strictest churches on the West Coast. In other words, dalliances with a guy like me are strictly forbidden.
I know that’s why she limits her time with me to the feed store or my garage. Well outside of the public spotlight. She doesn’t want rumors flying that we might be together. How she can be happy living life on these terms, I don’t know.
“And I’m an asshole,” I reply. “But that’s something you like about me, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
“I speak my mind, and I don’t give a fuck what other people think. Imagine how liberating your life would be if you quit worrying about others’ opinions and started focusing on yourself and what you want.”
“And I suppose you’re going to tell me what I want?” she asks, raising a challenging eyebrow.
Her eyes are hooded as she looks up at me, and her cheeks stain with desire. I notice her gaze lingering too long on my lips as she licks her own. Despite her words, she steps one inch closer, and I feel the heat radiating off her body. I’ve dealt with these mixed signals for well over a year now.
Fuck it.I wrap my arms around her waist, covering her mouth with mine. Half expecting her to struggle out of my embrace or smack me, I keep a little distance between us. I’m not sure how she’ll react to my sweaty naked chest and obvious arousal, although I have my hopes.
To my astonishment, she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. Her warm, sexy lips return the kiss with increasing abandon. She sighs against my mouth, and I take my cue, claiming her with my tongue. Sucked into the cotton candy goodness of her taste, I can’t get enough.
Deepening the stroke, I let the rhythm convey my intentions. I half expect her to fight or fly away like a wild bird caught in a thicket. Instead, she melts into my arms breathlessly, and my hands stray. I can’t help myself. Her soft curves beckon me. I palm her lower back and squeeze her hips, gaining confidence. Before I know it, my hands rest at the top of her ample ass. She tenses a little but doesn’t stop me.
I growl against the heat of her wet, silky mouth as waves of desire crash up and down my spine, drawn like a tsunami to the juncture of my legs. I’m ramrod hard, thinking about sinking into that precious mouth of hers or her sugar-sweet pussy. Her hands roam across my bare back, and she anchors a hand in my belt, slipping her fingertips beneath the waistband.
I tremble where her petal-soft fingers leave trails of fire. My heart hammers against my ribs, and the thick lump of desire in my throat feels impossible to swallow. Pinning her against thewall of hay bales behind us, I arch my hips against her stomach, giving her a sneak peek of my rock-hard rod.
She gasps against the feel of me as electricity crackles in the air, arcing through my body—lighting me up with pleasure and pain. The way she pants and moans against me, I know she feels it, too.
