Dylan (5 page)

She ran upstairs and changed the yoga pants for a pair of worn-at-the-knees blue jeans she'd had for longer than she could remember. Mindful of the weather and wildlife she wasn't yet used to, she pulled on socks and reached for a pair of work boots. Turning them upside down to check for critters first, she put them on. Two minutes later, she was upside down on the driver's side of her cousin's ancient blue Ford pickup, using the exposed ignition wires to start it. Vito's generous offer to take his truck didn't include the keys because he'd lost them a few years back and never replaced them… with his larcenous talents, he didn't need keys.

“Come on,” she begged the truck. “I'm running on borrowed time and I need to get fresh garlic and onion for Nonni's red sauce.”

The engine caught and roared to life. Shifting so she could wiggle out from under the steering column, Ronnie brushed her hair out of her eyes, grabbed ahold of the wheel, and put it in drive.

The good thing about living in a small town was that you didn't have to drive too far to get whatever you needed. Dawson's didn't carry everything that she needed, but she'd been warned about the differences between East Coast living and the wide-open spaces out in Texas and had brought a bunch of her favorite spices with her. Even better, Nonni said she'd mailed a care package that should arrive any day. She couldn't wait to see what her grandmother had sent.

“Hey there, Ronnie.”

“Mavis!” Ronnie turned to greet her friend. “Where were you last night?”

Mavis smiled. “I had things to do. I'm sure you had fun even though I wasn't there, didn't you?”

She wondered if she'd have ended up on her bathroom floor sick as a dog if Mavis had been with her. “Oh yeah, I had tons of fun.”

“You don't sound like you mean that.” The older woman frowned.

“Let's just say I didn't use my head and got distracted by a hunk of cowboy the likes of which I'd never seen or knew existed.”

“And?” her friend prompted.

“He… um, asked me to…” Embarrassed, she couldn't finish.

Mavis linked arms with Ronnie and started walking. “Sounds like you need someone to talk to.” She soothed, “Tell Auntie Mavis. I'm all ears.”

Ronnie sighed, knowing she'd feel better once she'd told Mavis. She trusted the older woman and usually heeded her advice. “Did you know Shannon and Lenore were going to have me blindfolded and lassoed?”

Her friend's hoot of laughter wasn't exactly the reaction she expected. When Mavis came up for air, Ronnie grumbled, “Then you weren't in on it?”

“Only the lasso part. Damn. I wish I'd have thought of the blindfold. It must have done something to that poor boy, seeing you all helpless.” When Ronnie stopped in her tracks, Mavis tugged and got her walking and talking. “So was it Dylan?”

“How'd you know?”

“I have my sources.” Mavis preened. “Besides, I happen to know he and his brother—”

“Which brother is he?”

“Dylan's the middle brother.”

Ronnie needed to know which one was the carpenter. “Then he's the one who's going to rebuild my shop?”

Mavis agreed and added, “They all have the Garahan dark good looks, but Tyler's leaner than Dylan and they're both shorter than Jesse. All of those boys have hidden talents and are good with their hands—as ranchers, they have to be.”

“All I know from last night is that they called him Dylan the Delicious.”

The soft smile had her suspecting that Mavis had known him for a long time. It was a look she'd seen more than once on Nonni's face when talking about one of the neighborhood boys. Ronnie asked, “What do you know about him?”

“He's honest and hardworking as the day is long. All of those boys are.” Mavis shook her head. “There was a time when we'd thought they'd spend their formative years doing hard time for Sheriff Wallace, but old Hank, their grandfather, had a way with words and the sheriff relented and let Hank set those boys on the right path.”

Ronnie wondered what had happened that the brothers had been headed toward the wrong side of the law, but wasn't comfortable asking—just yet. When Mavis's smile turned wistful, she knew there was a lot more to the story. Time would tell whether or not she'd be interested enough in Dylan to find out more.

To distract Mavis from her sad thoughts, Ronnie blurted out, “He kissed me.”

Mavis's smile broadened and a spark of pure pleasure lit her eyes. “Did he? Tell me more.”

While she selected the fresh garlic and onions for her sauce, she filled Mavis in on the details of last night's celebration. As she walked toward the checkout, Mavis asked, “And what did you do when he asked you to wait for him?”

“I told him no.”

Mavis patted the back of Ronnie's hand. “Any reason, other than the obvious one, that he scared you?”

“I didn't say he scared me.”

“Didn't you?” Mavis asked. “Sometimes when love hits us between the eyes, we put up all of our defenses at once in order to protect our hearts.”

It was Ronnie's turn to laugh. “I just met him last night. How could I love him?”

“Oh, honey,” Mavis said, hugging Ronnie. “You don't always recognize the love bug when it bites you.”

“Well, I might have been interested, but—” She didn't have to finish what she was thinking. One look at Mavis's knowing smile told her the woman had already made up her mind about last night and the woman hadn't even been there.

“How did it feel when he reeled you in and locked lips with you?”

“You weren't there, how did you know?”

Mavis smiled and ignored her question. “So how was it? I've heard rumors that those boys are as wild as the wind, just like their daddy, God rest his soul.”

Ronnie's heart did a little jig in her breast. Yet one more thing that she definitely would want to find out—if she decided she was interested in getting to know the man better. What happened to his father? The little sigh that escaped had Mavis tilting her head to one side. Ronnie admitted, “If I hadn't had too much to drink, I may have taken him up on his offer. The man's lips should be licensed as weapons of mass destruction.”

Her friend nodded. “Wiser to wait until your head was clear. It's always a mistake to mix alcohol with sex.”

Ronnie let out a snort of laughter. “Now you sound like my grandmother. Don't hold back how you feel, Mavis.”

The older woman nodded. “Like I always say, there's lovin' and there's lust. Not that there's anything wrong with having a little bit of one or the other, but it's best to have a clear head so you can tell them apart, so you don't do anything you'd regret later.”

Ronnie looked up in time to see the wide-eyed look on the cashier's face. She didn't recognize the girl, but smiled. The poor thing was too embarrassed to return the greeting. Paying the cashier, Ronnie reached for her bag. “I'm afraid I'll make another mistake like I did with my ex. I thought I knew what I was doing.”

“Dylan isn't Anthony.”

“I didn't say he was, but—”

“Sometimes you have to grab hold of life with both hands and enjoy the ride.”

Ronnie snorted. “I'm a former barrel rider—not a bronc rider. Did you know that there's a famous rodeo in New Jersey? It's a place called Cowtown in South Jersey. I've competed there.”

“Who'd have thought it?” Mavis said, walking with Ronnie out into the parking lot. “Now, dear, remember when the love bug bites—”

“It's not love, damn it.”

“So you say,” Mavis said cheerily, waving as she got into her car.

“Sometimes she makes me crazy,” Ronnie grumbled getting into her truck. She hesitated and checked the parking lot to see if anyone was watching her. She used to worry that people would think she was stealing the truck when she started it from beneath the dashboard, but for some reason out here in Pleasure, people didn't seem to think it was unusual.

A glance at her watch had her relaxing; she still had time for a ride to settle her nerves. She headed out of town and felt the tension leaving her by degrees as she left the town limits behind her. Five miles out of town her truck coughed and died.

“Damn, I should have checked those plugs when I changed the oil.” She got out and slammed the driver's side door. She didn't have time for this; she had to get back or she'd be late when Tyler's brother showed up. She looked under the hood and sighed. She didn't really know what everything was called but knew, with Vito's truck, she could wiggle a couple of things and if that didn't work, she could pull out the hammer… if worse came to worst.

She tightened a few things and crossed her fingers.

Hot, tired, and annoyed, she wiggled and shifted until she was upside down beneath the steering wheel again.

“Need any help?”

The deep voice had her jolting. The smooth baritone did things to her insides that should be illegal. Digging deep, she ignored the feeling and the offer of help.

“Hey, are you all right?”

The firm grip on her knee had her smacking her head on the base of the steering column.

“Ow! What is your problem, buddy?”

“Name's not buddy, ma'am,” the deep voice answered. “You didn't answer my question so I figured you were hurt and needed help.”

“I didn't answer your question because I didn't feel like it,” Ronnie said in her defense.

She touched the wires together and the ignition turned over purring like a top.

***

Dylan's heart flipped in his chest and started beating double time. Holy shit! The little lady stuck upside down in the cab of her truck had just hot-wired it!

“How did you learn to do that?” he asked, amazed that anyone aside from himself had that particular skill.

“My cousin taught me,” she said maneuvering so she could get out from beneath the wheel. Placing a knee on the slide-over-here-honey seat, she scooted backward until she was out of the cab. She turned around and Dylan watched as shock registered first, recognition second.

“Well, now, isn't this a surprise?” He couldn't have planned it better himself if he'd tried.

He'd tossed and turned all night, and the woman standing in front of him looking up at him had been responsible for that and for keeping him tied up in knots for most of the day. And damned if she wasn't frowning up at him. Perverse of him though it might be, it really turned him on.

Glaring at him, she didn't answer. When the engine coughed and died again, she turned her back on him and reached beneath the seat and found what she was looking for. The claw hammer was worn and dirty—looked like it had been well used over the years. Grabbing the wooden handle, she hefted the hammer and got back out of the cab.

“What are you going to do with that?”

She ignored his question a second time, getting under his skin like a burr under his horse's saddle. Taking a step back, he leaned against his truck's fender to watch the show. When the sweet little thing whacked the side of the starter with the hammer, his jaw dropped. When the damned thing started, he laughed.

“Who'd have thought—”

“Are you still here?”

To say the woman was pissed would be an understatement. When she turned her lethal green gaze on him, his libido shot straight to boil. He had to get his hands on her again. He pushed away from the fender and stalked toward her. She was bent over the fender, fiddling with something under the hood. Her curvy backside was cupped lovingly by the worn denim, making his mouth water.

Just
one
taste.
Hands clenched at his sides, he tried to hold back, but when she wiggled to get closer to the engine, his heart stopped beating. Light-headed, he smacked his palm against his chest and finally felt the organ kick into overdrive.

“Who'd have thought that a pretty little filly from back East would know how to fix a starter and hot-wire a truck?” Admiration got all mixed up with his roaring libido, and something more, nearly indefinable—the feeling that this woman was going to matter.

“That and a couple of bucks would get you a cappuccino with the works back home,” she mumbled, finally straightening up and turning to face him.

Their eyes met and the anger in her gaze flared into something hot and wicked.
Hot
damn
and
hallelujah… she wants me!

She shook her head as if to clear it and held out a hand to keep him from reaching for her. “Stop right there, buddy.”

“Name's Dylan, ma'am.” He grabbed ahold of her hand and reeled her in until she bumped up against his chest and their jean-clad legs were plastered against one another. Her heat scorched him, and Lord, every cell in his body stood at attention.

“You were on my mind all day,” he rasped into her hair as he leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of her head. He breathed in and was surrounded by her scent, a combination of sun-warmed woman working up a sweat and—he buried his nose again—some kind of berry.

“And smell good enough to eat, but damned if I can decide if you'll taste like strawberries or raspberries.”

“You are not going to kiss me again.”

He grinned. “Well now, darlin', I'm not much of a betting man, but I'll take that one.” He swooped down and captured her lips with a kiss that had all of his cylinders firing. His engine was running smooth and hot. Sliding a hand down to her waist, he angled his head for a deeper taste.

Shock waves rolled up and over him as his lips devoured the berry-tart confection melting into his arms. He was breathing hard when he came up for air. “I've got to have more.”

He was watching closely for her to say yes and follow him into the madness, but something in her eyes changed. She pushed out of his arms, and he let her go. “You gonna walk away from me a second time, when you know we'd burn each other up in bed?”