Not My 1st Rodeo (3 page)

“Well,” she breathed, looking at him in her rear view mirror. “I'll be damned.

Chapter Four

Brett wasn't about to tell his sisters a thing about his date, other than she was nice and it went well. When Manda pressed him about whether or not he was going to see Melissa again, he merely shrugged and said he wasn't sure. But he placated his sister by asking her to give him the password for his profile, which she took as a good sign that he was on board.

And then he immediately changed the password so she couldn't get access anymore.

He texted Melly and asked her to dinner on Friday night, saying he'd drive into Helena this time. They agreed that she'd make reservations for eight o'clock since she knew the city restaurants better than he did, and she'd meet him there. Brett was nervous as hell. Melly was looking for love. He wasn't. She was open to dating for fun…that he could handle. Dinner was easy, but what about after?

There was no denying there was chemistry, but how far did he want things to go? What was, well, appropriate? Shit, he hated dating and rules and just…everything. He was still kind of reeling from the first date, if he were being honest. He'd gone to be polite and ended up beneath Memorial Bridge with her legs wrapped around him. Lord, she'd been sweet. Sweet and sultry.

At a meeting with his lawyer on Wednesday, he was so distracted that he barely registered that his latest offer on a property had been turned down. He finally turned to his buddy Austin for advice. Austin was married with a sweet wife and a little boy, but he was still good for a few beers and lots of laughs. Austin clapped him on the back, congratulated him on getting back out there again and handed him a box of condoms. Now, Brett was standing in his room, dressed in jeans, boots and a sport coat, hoping he looked okay. He stared at the box of condoms on the bed. It would be pretty presumptuous to think that they'd sleep together on the second date, wouldn't it? On the other hand, things had gotten pretty hot the other day. Wouldn't he be smarter to be prepared? She didn't need to know he had it with him. He wouldn't want her to think he was expecting anything…but if the opportunity did present itself…

Cursing, he opened the box, ripped one off the strip and tucked it into his wallet. Damn, just thinking about it had given him a hard-on. He ripped off another one and put it with the other. A guy just didn't know. He'd rather be safe than sorry.

They'd made arrangements to meet at the restaurant, and Brett used his phone to find the location and parked his truck in a nearby parking garage. He was surprised to find the restaurant was so small, but his mouth watered when he stepped inside. The smells were fantastic. It wasn't anything flashy or extravagant, but the warm colors in the decor and the candlelight made it cozy and welcoming. Sitting at a table for two was Melly, her dark hair falling over her shoulders and a glass of white wine in front of her. She looked up at him and suddenly her eyes lit up and she smiled.

“Do you have a reservation, sir?”

He dragged his gaze away from Melly and focused on the hostess. “My date's already here, thank you.”

“Of course. Can we bring you a drink to start?”

He couldn't care less, but he nodded anyway. “I'll have whatever she's having,” he suggested. Without waiting, he made his way past the other diners to reach their table.

Melly stood up as he approached and his eyes goggled at the sight of her. She was wearing a dress, and she had fantastic legs. The dress itself wasn't especially fancy, but the draped style highlighted her curves and made her look very feminine.

“Brett,” she said, and her smile lit up her face.

The anxiety he'd suffered the whole drive to the city dissipated as he met her beside the table and kissed her cheek. “I'm sorry I'm late.”

“You're not. I was a little early.” Her cheeks colored prettily. “I don't know why, but while I was waiting, I was afraid you weren't going to show or something. I feel better now.”

Their waitress brought a glass of wine and put it on the table in front of him. He started to laugh. “Excuse me, but could I have a whiskey, neat please?”

“You didn't order the wine?”

“I did. It's just…” He smiled at her, feeling a little bit foolish. “You can leave it too. Thanks.”

As the perplexed waitress left, he looked at Melly, who was watching him with confusion. “It's your fault,” he said. “I saw you sitting there and the hostess was asking if I wanted anything and all I could think of was, ‘I'll have what she's having'.”

When she laughed, the sound was enchanting. “Do you realize you've used that line in both of our dates?”

Right. The “When Harry Met Sally” thing. “I guess I have.” He shrugged. “What can I say? You look beautiful, Melly.”

“Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

“I had help.”

He probably shouldn't have admitted that, but it slipped out. After their coffee date, he'd also wondered what had compelled him to be so honest with someone he'd just met. God, he'd even talked about Sherry, which he never did. Maybe it was because Melly didn't seem to have an artificial bone in her body. She was incredibly genuine, or at least she appeared to be. And it prompted a comfort level that surprised him.

“You did? Your sister again?”

“Hardly. I'd rather keep her out of my business. A friend of mine. Who has a wife. I made sure she confirmed his advice for what to wear.”

She laughed lightly. “They sound like nice friends.”

“They are,” he agreed. “The best.” He and Austin had been in some good scrapes together. Brett had three sisters. Austin was the closest thing he had to a brother.

The waitress returned with his whiskey and menus, and for a few minutes, they pondered what to order.

“What's good?” he asked. “I'm guessing you've been here before?”

She nodded. “Only a few times. My favorite is the gnocchi, but you might want something more…meaty. I've had the thyme chicken. It's lovely.”

He went with the chicken, because he had the sudden idea that eating anything with linguini or any type of long pasta could get messy. After they ordered, bread came, followed by a house salad. By the time the entrees were delivered, his whiskey was gone, Melly had accepted the second glass of wine and they were chatting easily about work.

It was easy. Almost too easy, Brett realized. In between bites, Melly told funny stories about her high school students and the pros and cons of teaching that particular age group, which led to sharing a few tales of their own teenage years. They ordered coffee and Melly suggested dessert to share, and they agreed upon the dark chocolate roulade. Her eyes had lit up when she saw the dessert menu, and the decadent choice didn't disappoint. Watching her put the spoon in her mouth and close her eyes with appreciation made his brain shift forward to the next part of the date…if there was, indeed, a next part.

He wanted there to be.

Brett put down his spoon, no longer hungry, and fixed his gaze on her face. There was something about her that drew him in. Maybe it was the way she smiled, or the softness in her eyes that put him at ease. And he was certain that she had no idea of the innate sexiness she possessed. There was a grace to the way she moved, a certain something that caught a man's eye and kept it.

“I'm so full,” she announced, licking the last of the chocolate off the spoon. “I made a complete pig of myself and I can't find it in me to be sorry.”

Several comments rushed through Brett's mind—about licking the spoon, about needing her energy for later—but he didn't say them. Instead, he reached across the table and took her hand in his, twining their fingers together.

She looked surprised, and then a little bit pleased as she held his gaze.

“What would you like to do now?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over the top of her hand.

“Oh. Well…” She hesitated and then smiled. “What would you like to do, Brett?”

He measured his words. He was quite good at self-editing when he put his mind to it. “For starters, I'd like to kiss you again.”

Something flickered in her dark eyes. Desire? Awareness? Whatever it was, he liked it.

“Brett,” she said, her voice low.

“You asked,” he reminded her, smiling a little. “But whatever comes next is up to you. If you want me to take you home and call it a night, that's okay. It's been great spending the evening with you.” In his head, he knew there was a benefit to taking things slowly. It didn't mean he necessarily wanted to.

“A drive home would be fine,” she answered, and he tried to quell the disappointment he felt at the simple words. Maybe Manda had been right. Maybe he had been licking his wounds for too long. It was possible it was past time he got back into the dating world again.

Melly gripped her clutch purse tightly as they made their way out of the restaurant into the spring evening. Brett took her hand as they walked to the parking garage, and she thought about his last words. He wanted to kiss her again—for starters. What else did he have in mind? Did she want the same thing?

He opened the door to his truck and she hopped in, tucking her skirt around her legs and fastening her seatbelt. They were going back to her place. And she'd have to decide whether to leave him at the door or invite him in. She knew what she wanted. She just didn't know if it was the smart move.

Brett eased the truck out of the garage and back on to the street. With the radio playing softly in the background, she gave him directions, and soon they were heading north. It would only take a few minutes to reach her apartment. Minutes that seemed to go by so fast and yet so slowly.

“Take a left at the next set of lights,” she instructed softly, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Brett was not interested in a serious relationship. She knew that. She was looking for something permanent…eventually. But maybe not yet. She'd done a crap load of thinking over the course of the week and she'd realized it wasn't fair to pin a prospective-husband tag on someone after a date, or even two. Why couldn't they just be in the moment and see where it led? Didn't that make more sense?

“Turn right, and it's the second building on the right,” she advised. As he turned the truck into the small lot, she pointed at a few vacant spaces. “That's visitor parking.”

He pulled into the spot and put the truck in park, then killed the engine. When she would have reached for the door handle, he put his hand on her left arm.

“Wait,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “I'll get it.”

With her stomach in knots, Melly waited as Brett hopped out and went around the hood of the truck to open her door. He held out his hand and she took it. She got out gingerly and reached back for her clutch.

“No big handbag tonight, huh?”

“Not tonight,” she said, a little bit breathless as she faced forward again and found herself close to his broad chest.

They started walking to the door of the building, and Melly's nervousness ratcheted up several notches. Should she say goodnight at the door? Invite him in? If she did, would he make assumptions? Damn it, wasn't dating supposed to be fun? Instead, she felt as though she were walking through a field of landmines, afraid to take a step unless it was a mistake.

Brett stopped at the main door and waited. She was glad. He wasn't assuming anything and that helped. “Thank you for dinner,” she murmured and then ran her tongue over her lips that suddenly seemed dry.

“It was nice,” he replied and put his hand on her wrist, squeezing lightly. “And nice to spend time with you again.”

She looked up. The tension sizzled between them, the elemental attraction that she simply couldn't deny existed. Was it so wrong to want to enjoy it? Maybe the whole narrow-down-the-search thing had been a good idea at the time, but right now she didn't want to think too far into the future. She wanted to enjoy the here and now. And right here, right now, Brett Harrison was standing in front of her, his fingers circling her wrist, his lips slightly parted and his eyes locked on hers, waiting for her to make the next move.

“Nice is an innocuous word,” she said softly. “It was a good date, Brett. And I don't think I want it to be over yet. Do you want to come up for a nightcap?” He smiled a little and she winced on the inside. Could she have said anything more cliché? It sounded like something a woman would say on one of the soap operas she used to watch after school…

“I'm driving, so a nightcap might not be the best idea.”

Disappointment and embarrassment rushed through her.

“But I'd like to come up anyway.”

Whoosh. There went the embarrassment and back came the nerves. The excited thrill-of-the-unknown kind. “Right. Let me get my key.”

She dug in her purse and got her key, and after she unlocked the door, Brett held it open, letting her through. They did the same at the inner security door and then she led the way to the stairs. “No elevator,” she explained quietly. “But I'm only on the third floor.”

Their shoes made scuffing noises on the industrial-grade carpet that covered the hall and stair steps. There wasn't another sound in the building as they made their way to her apartment door. Her hand shook as she put the key in the lock and the door swung open.

She reached for a light switch while Brett closed the door behind them.

“Nice place,” he said quietly, and she took a deep, steadying breath.

“Thanks. Come on in.” There, that sounded calm, didn't it? Her heels clicked on the ceramic tile of the entry as she put her purse down on a small table. “It's not very big, but there's just me.”

She put on a smile and turned around. But the moment she did, the awareness seemed to overflow. Alone. Her apartment. Just the two of them. Before she could register a coherent thought, they each took a step towards each other. Brett's strong arms came around her and lifted her to her toes while she cupped his face with her hands and kissed him.