Should've Said No (9 page)

“You’re seriously going to donate this to the museum?” she asked.

“I thought that would be an ideal place for it. Not many folks get to see it while it’s sitting in here, and Pops put so much work into it. He lived back in those days, and he wanted to show people what life was like in Thistle Bend during the coal mining era. Lots of people would rather tell their stories, but he wasn’t a man of many words.” Carden shrugged. “So we built this instead.”

“Wow,” Lindsey said. “What an incredible legacy.” Her gaze swept across the miniature town, settling on one spot then another. “How long does it take to build something like this?”

“That train depot took about 250 hours to build from scratch.”

“No way.”

“Believe it or not, it’s historically accurate.”

She pointed to a building on a corner along Larkspur Avenue. “Is that the hardware store/gas station/soon-to-be museum?”

“One and the same.” He circled his finger over a nearby building topped by a cupola with a bell inside. “This is the old schoolhouse, and there’s city hall.”

“Everything is so detailed, down to the livestock. And the cars and bicycles—even horse-drawn carriages.” Lindsey leaned in closer. “The buildings are so realistic. Curtains on the windows. Signs on the stores. And those people are even planting a garden.” She pointed at several tiny figures, including a man with a shovel in his hand. “And she’s hanging laundry on the clothesline. The sheets look like they’re fluttering in the breeze.” She shook her head and a lock of her hair fell across her shoulder.

Carden liked it when she wore it loose. Despite himself, he reached out and swept the silky strands back in place so she could have a full view of the model town. “They even had a baseball field.” He pointed out the park where a game was depicted in progress, complete with players, spectators cheering from the bleachers, and a fence lined with advertisements authentic to the times.

“And since I promised you a SparkNotes history lesson,” he said, “check out the mule path here.” He skimmed his finger along the gritty path. “At the mines, carts were loaded with coal and mules hauled them to the tipple, where the coal got sorted. Slack coal went to the ovens and was baked into denser, clean-burning coke. Lump coal was shipped in gondola cars to the eastern slope for use in home and commercial furnaces.”

Lindsey stared at him and blinked a couple of times, her gorgeous eyes glinting in the light. “You really know your mining lingo.”

“I’d better,” he said. “My family has roots in that business.”

A shadow seemed to darken her expression and she shifted her gaze to the train as it circled past again, the engine pulling several cars piled full of coal.

“You weren’t kidding, were you? I mean, you really could teach me the history of Thistle Bend. I’m doing my research too, but something like this really brings it to life.”

“I’m like my grandfather,” Carden said. “I can tell you stories, but I want to show you things too, because then it’s as if you’ve felt the place.” He stopped himself before he said more. This was a good first step toward getting Lindsey to represent the Crenshaws favorably in the museum. No need to get all sentimental and deep about everything. When was the last time he’d slipped and done that?

She set her gaze on him, a smile coming up on her face like a sunrise. “I’d love that. I need to learn as much as possible, as soon as possible. So many people have volunteered to help me. I’m happy one of them is you.”

No doubt the Karlssons were a couple of those many people. Carden’s gut twisted as he guessed the kind of tales they’d told Lindsey at dinner, and how they might influence her.

“If everyone is as excited about the museum you are,” she said, “it should be a huge success.” She stood on tiptoes and whispered, “Especially with this model town as its centerpiece.” Her warm breath on his ear sent awareness prickling through him, becoming hotter and more urgent each time he was near her. She’d walked in the door and changed the whole look of his workshop. Changed the whole feel. The place was his escape—all glass and wood and steel. But Lindsey had softened it, made it sexy. She had his mind going places it rarely did when he was in here, working and focused.

Carden flipped the switch and the train came to a stop, silence settling in the workshop. “We should go,” he said. He’d lost control with her last night, and he couldn’t risk letting that happen again.

She furrowed her brow, confusion in her eyes. “Okay.” She glanced at her watch, a dainty thing with a band made of shiny beads and crystals. “I guess it is getting late.”

Carden clenched his jaw, clutched her elbow, and led her to the door. A swipe of his hand killed the lights.

“Aw,” Lindsey said as he reached for the door handle. She stepped over to the model. “The little town looks so sweet in the moonlight.”

And so did Lindsey. Her sexy silhouette had him riveted in place. He knew better, but his instincts urged him to go to her. Joining her next to the model, he skimmed his fingertips over her bare shoulder and down her arm. He reached her hand and languidly laced his fingers between hers. “Not nearly as sweet as you look,” he whispered close to her ear, giving her the same treatment she’d given him moments ago. He nipped at her earlobe and kissed his way down the satiny curve of her neck. Her breath hitched, and the sound unleashed a rush of desire he’d kept pent up way too long.

In a swift motion, Carden pulled her to him. He smoothed his hand over her hair, entangling his fingers in it at the back. Pressing his lips to hers, he sought the same satisfaction he’d gotten from kissing her last night, and instantly found more. Their tongues entwined in a sensual rhythm, rising in intensity as heat pulsed through him. He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and she clung to him, the seductive curves of her breasts soft against his pecs.

How the hell had he gone so long without feeling true attraction like this?

Holding her close, he walked her over to a workbench in front of a bank of windows. Moonlight glowed on its surface, glinting on several hand tools and wood scraps he’d left there. Reaching out, he pushed them aside with a sweep of his arm, sending them falling to the floor in a clatter.

“That’s better,” he said, his voice thick and low. He lifted her onto the workbench and stepped between her legs, her dress sliding dangerously high on her thighs.

She smoothed her fingertips down his cheeks and cupped his face in her hands. “I’m not sure it can get any better.”

He sucked in a ragged breath. “Oh, darlin’,” he said, sliding his finger beneath one of the straps of her sundress and guiding it off of her shoulder. “I promise you it can.” He kissed the spot where the strap had been and drew his fingers up her thighs with a light, feathery touch. “And I’m a man who keeps his promises.”

His mouth came down on Lindsey’s, kissing her hungrily, and she gave as good as she was getting. She slipped her arms around him and tucked her hands in the back pockets of his jeans, pulling him closer, her dress lifting to reveal the lacy edge of her panties. Carden’s already hard cock went rigid.

“Mmm,” she murmured, tipping her head back.

The sound of her moan set him on fire. He barely knew this girl but, God, he wanted her. He was practically drunk with it. She just fit here in his space, on his workbench, in his arms. Somehow her shiny crystals and lace made the place complete.

Lindsey gave him a sultry look that nearly undid him, complete with her biting her bottom lip, as she went to work unbuttoning his shirt. She pushed it off his shoulders and he tossed it aside.

His heart hammered as she swept her gaze over his body, her hands a moment behind. No doubt she could feel his heart pounding as she teased his pecs with her velvety touch and traced her fingers over each cut ab until she reached the waistband of his jeans. She crooked her fingers in his belt loops and his cock strained against the denim.

Carden kissed her with all the heat of the fire she’d ignited in him. He smoothed his hands up her thighs, grasping her lacy panties in his fists.

The rumble of an engine and the static of tires on gravel stopped Carden cold. Outside, Blue barked, and headlights shone in the distance, moving toward his house.

He clenched his teeth, bowed his head until it rested on Lindsey’s bare shoulder, and let out a frustrated sigh. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

Chapter 11

The sound of a truck and brightening light had caught Lindsey’s attention just before Carden had gone still. Her heart had stammered then resumed its feverish beating as he rested his forehead on her shoulder and announced that they had company.

“Worst. Timing. Ever,” he said. He lifted his head from her shoulder, and kissed her gently. “But we’d better go see who it is. Unusual for someone to come out here at night.” He took a step back, his fingers grazing the length of her thighs as he pulled away and lazily swept the strap of her sundress onto her shoulder. Sliding his arm around her waist, he lifted her off the workbench and set her on her feet.

He buttoned his shirt and scrubbed his hand through his hair as he watched out the window, his gaze following the approaching headlights. “I’m glad you like the model town.”

“I do,” she said, trying to switch gears from totally turned on to back to business.

He tugged at a lock of her hair, looking super-sexy in the moonlight and shadows. “I might have to make a miniature Lindsey and put her in front of the museum.”

“Not on your workbench?” she asked.

“Hmm…” His voice rumbled in his throat. “That’s better done with a life-sized Lindsey.” He winked. With a whisper-light touch at her back, he guided her to the door and out of the workshop, where Blue waited for them. She’d nearly gathered her wits by the time she and Carden covered the distance to his house, dimly lit by several accent lights casting a glow behind expansive windows.

Dress straps in place—check.

Panties situated—check.

Dazed look of lust gone from my face—highly doubtful.

Carden opened the access door to his three-car garage and ducked inside. He flipped on the lights and, with the press of a button, opened one of the massive bay doors. The rattletrap pickup that had put the brakes on all the action in the workshop rolled to a stop outside. Lindsey felt as if she should thank the driver for saving her from doing something insanely impulsive. She’d been so caught up in Carden—those abs, those lips. His promise that things would get even better. The man hadn’t been lying. Just the thought of his raspy hands caressing her thighs had her tingling with renewed desire. She stole a glance at him standing next to her in the driveway, illuminated in the hazy light spilling from the garage.

Calm.

Collected.

Controlled.

Not the same guy who’d had her panties in his hands just minutes ago. Lindsey could only imagine what she’d have been tempted to do with
that
Carden had they been left uninterrupted.

You’ve got to get a grip on yourself.

She had been in Thistle Bend less than a week and she’d nearly earned herself an epic walk of shame and a crap ton of regret. How had she allowed a casual business meeting to heat up into a sizzling make-out session with a man she barely knew?

Another look at Carden and she had her answer. The guy was the complete package—totally irresistible. And the second she’d stepped in his workshop, she’d been a goner. The tool belt he’d worn last night had been merely a tease. His workshop was all-man, down and dirty. The model train. The power tools. The workbench. She drew a deep breath of the crisp night air, missing the scents of paint, glue, and sawdust. Missing the scent of Carden.

The driver of the truck cut the engine.

“You okay?” Carden asked. He cupped her elbow and squeezed. Other than that, it had been hands-off since they left the workshop.

Lindsey nodded as the doors of the rusty white pickup creaked open and two men that matched it got out.

“Whadda we got here?” The short, heavy one gestured toward Lindsey. His smile bunched his jolly cheeks as he tugged his shirt down over his belly.

“Well, well,” the other man said, his eyebrows raised at Carden. He was tall and trim, with bright eyes and a handsome face, his denim overalls worn thin at the knees.

“Gentlemen.” Carden pressed his hand against the small of her back. “This is Lindsey Simms, the woman who’s come to get the new museum up and running.” He tipped his chin in the direction of his workshop. “I was just showing her the model town the Crenshaws are donating.”

“Piece of work, isn’t it?” the shorter man asked Lindsey. He looked nearly as proud as Carden had when he’d shown the model to her.

“It really is amazing.” Lindsey smiled at Carden.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Lindsey,” the shorter man chimed in again. “I’m Dean Dooley. I do believe you’re living in my cabin.”

Lindsey had a flashback to her first sight of the “cottage” with its weathered paint, upside-down street number, and rusty roof. Now she was eye to eye with the man she’d wanted to have more than a polite word with for baiting her into renting the place and thinking things had worked out okay. She cast a glance at Carden, whose kissable lips turned up at the corners.

“I am indeed.” She shook Dean’s hand. “It’s a quaint little cabin. Perfect for me.”

Dean beamed.

Carden gestured to the taller man. “And this is Fred Birdsong, Holly’s grandfather.”

Lindsey reached out and took both of his hands in hers. “Mr. Birdsong! Holly’s been so sweet to me. She’s the first friend I met here.” Carden gave her a sidelong glance and raised his eyebrows. “Well, the first girlfriend I met.”

“That’s my Holly.” He looked to Dean for agreement, and Dean nodded. “People might wonder who you’re talking to if you call me Mr. Birdsong, though. Do call me Fred.”

Dean flattened his hand over his chest. “And I only answer to Dean.”

“Then Fred and Dean it is.” It dawned on Lindsey that she had just met the odd couple, according to Holly and Carden, and she could see how the two men were different. But she also couldn’t stop thinking that they were dead ringers for the Scarecrow and the Cowardly Lion in
The Wizard of Oz,
too.