Some Like It Hot (Sweetrock Cowboy Romance Book 1) (7 page)

N
othing went right
for Sam for the rest of the day. First, she dropped scrambled hamburger on the ground, then one of her crockpots stopped working, and then she spilled chili all over herself. There was only one high point in the day. Beulah stopped by to sample her chili again. Sam had gotten more ghost peppers at Dickinson’s, and Beulah gave it her seal of approval, favoring Sam with a wink before swaggering back to her own booth.

By the end of the day, she was covered in chili, dripping in sweat and desperate for a drink. Tessa had texted to say their plans for a horseback ride had to be postponed to the next night. Sam was glad. There was no telling what might go wrong if she tried to get on the back of a horse.

She cleaned up her tent and practically ran out of the fair. At Tessa’s, she showered, threw on a white tee-shirt, a denim skirt—but longer this time than the one she’d borrowed the other day—and a pair of Tessa’s red and white cowboy boots. Then she hopped back in her car and headed to The Bull Sheep Bar.

It was early, and the nightly crowd had not yet descended which was fine with Sam. The music was low. No band tonight, just the jukebox. A few couples sat at various tables and a loud, rowdy bunch of cowboys occupied a booth in the back.

She’d taken a seat at the bar far away from everyone else, preferring to be alone right now until she could drink away the stress of the day. Beer wouldn’t be enough for that. Upon finding out that her favorite liqueurs were Baileys and Kahlúa, the bartender had suggested a concoction called a screaming orgasm that was made from vodka, Baileys, and Kahlúa.

The drink had a kick to it, but it was soothed by the creaminess of the Baileys. It went down easy. By the time Sam was halfway done, the alcohol had made its way into her bloodstream and was working its magic on her mood. She’d have to slow down, or she’d be calling Tessa for a ride home.

Relaxing back in her chair, she ran her fingertips on the smooth bar top. It was one long slab of honey colored wood with the bark still attached to the edges, encased in a thick layer of shellac. Across from her, three tiers of booze bottles were stacked against the wall, lit from behind so as to display the colorful glass. Stained-glass panels hung down from the top of the bar, and she relaxed back into her chair, resting her cowboy boots on the brass foot rail in front of her as she eyed the mocha concoction beckoning to her from its martini glass in front of her. She picked up the cool glass and took a big sip, then signaled the bartender. Just one more drink and then she’d top it off with coffee before driving.

Her thoughts turned to the chili contest, the reason why she was in Sweetrock in the first place. Not that it wasn’t great to come and see Tessa. In fact, it had been a visit that was long overdue, but she needed to get her act together. What if she didn’t win the contest? Then what was she going to do? She supposed she would try for another job in Boston. She could always tell her parents it was a strategic move on her part—a stepping stone that would position her better for her own restaurant. Surely one of her friends back there would know someone that could help her get another job. She glanced down at the messages on her phone. One from her parents and one from her sister. None of her Boston friends had even contacted her the whole time she’d been here. Some friends they were.

She wondered if going back to Boston was even the right move. Her family was there in the suburbs of Massachusetts, and she would miss not having them close. Glancing at the phone again, her heart tugged. She’d been putting off talking to her folks because they wouldn’t understand and she was embarrassed to tell her sister the truth. Sooner or later she was going to have to call them, though. She’d sent her mother several texts assuring her she was fine, but she knew her parents would worry if they didn’t talk to her in person. What would she tell them? She was no good at lying, but she’d have to come up with a suitable story so they didn’t know the truth of how bad things were for her.

Funny thing how the only person she could really tell her troubles to—Tessa—lived so far away. They’d been as close as sisters in college, celebrating each other’s successes and crying on each other’s shoulders at their failures. In fact, Sam had been instrumental in pulling Tessa from the depths of despair when her childhood sweetheart—some jerk named Derek Masters who Sam had never met and never wanted to meet—had screwed her over.

Sam could still remember how depressed the normally bubbly Tessa had been, and she was grateful that now her friend seemed much happier and well-balanced. She hoped Tessa would find another love, even though she’d never known her to have more than a week-long fling after that.

Leaving Tessa was going to be hard after reconnecting and having spent two weeks here.

But did it have to be that way? This last week with Tessa had been a lot of fun and brought back all those old memories and feelings from college. And it turned out that even though Sweetrock was in the middle of nowhere, living here did have its advantages.

Less smog.

Less people.

Less bullshit.

But she’d only been here for a week. She was sure if she stayed here for any length of time all that would become dull and boring and she would crave the bright city lights again…despite what Beulah said. Not to mention that the opportunities out here for the type of position she needed were minimal.

“Penny for your thoughts?” The familiar husky voice sent a shiver down her spine, and she turned to see Nick slipping into the barstool beside her.

“I was just thinking about how different things are here than in Boston,” she said.

“I bet. So how was the cooking today?” Nick rested his forearms on the bar, picking at the label of his beer.

Sam blew out a breath. “Disastrous. One thing went wrong after another.”

Nick smiled. “I did notice you were covered in chili.”

Sam laughed. She could only imagine how she’d looked by the end of the day, hair frazzled and covered in red chili sauce. “How about you? How did things go for you?”

Nick shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” He swung his chair so that he was looking straight at her. “Somehow, I’m not as keen to win as I used to be.”

She turned her chair, too, their knees brushing against each other. In the light of the bar, Nick’s eyes were more amber than brown, and now she noticed they had little flecks of gold. Her pulse thrummed, and her head spun slightly. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken that last sip of the drink.

“Winning isn’t everything.” Her voice came out low and soft.

“Exactly.” He leaned in closer and she found herself leaning toward him. It was like he had some kind of magnetic pull. His eyes flicked from hers to her drink. “What are you drinking?”

“Uhh…a screaming orgasm.” She flushed. The name of the drink sounded erotic on a whole different level when she said it out loud to Nick.

His eyes dropped to her lips for a second, then came back up to rest on her eyes. “Want another?”

Yes. Yes, she did
.

She held his gaze. “Maybe later.”

He leaned even closer, a few inches away, his gaze dropping to her lips again. Was he going to kiss her this time? She sure hoped so. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“Hey, lady is that your Jetta out there?”

They jerked apart, and Sam whirled toward the door. A middle-aged man was holding it open with one hand and pointing to the parking lot with the other. Outside, she could see the blinking lights of a tow truck.

Tow truck?

She bolted off her stool and ran outside, Nick following close behind.

“What are you doing!” Sam waved her hands frantically at the tow truck driver who took one look at her and stepped backward. He held his hands up as if to ward her off.

“Whoa, there, lady, back off.”

“But that’s my car.”

“Sorry, I have my orders. Please step aside.” The man looked at her warily as if he had experience with people making trouble when he towed their cars away.

“But I didn’t call anyone to have my car towed.” Sam looked around for another red VW Jetta. “You must have the wrong car.”

The man looked at her funny then flashed a clipboard in her face. Sam saw the word repossession in big block letters at the top.

Her car was getting repossessed?

“No. No. There must be some mistake my car is not getting repossessed. I pay the bills on time.”

The man started up the winch that pulled her car onto the bed of the truck. “That’s what everyone says, lady. Now step back, or I’ll have to call the cops.”

Nick put solid hands gently on her shoulders. “Maybe I can straighten this out.”

Sam wasn’t one to let anyone else fight her battles, but Nick was a lot calmer. Maybe she should let him take over. She nodded and stepped back.

Nick strode over to the man. “What’s this about?”

The man shrugged and angled the clipboard toward Nick. “Says here she didn’t make the payments.”

Nick cocked his head to read the paper then turned to Sam. ”This looks legit. Is it possible you missed some payments?”

Crap!

She’d never checked her bank accounts. She must’ve shorted herself in the checking. Whipping her phone out of her back pocket, she logged into her online banking account, her stomach crashing when she saw her mistake. Why hadn’t she checked sooner?

It was a stupid mistake. One an organized planner would never make it. What would her parents think of her now? Her eyes burned as she pleaded with the tow truck driver. “I forgot to transfer money in the account. I can pay it now and bring it current.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I have my orders. I have to impound the car. You’ll have to work it out with your loan company.”

Sam watched helplessly as the man secured her car onto the truck. Why hadn’t the loan company called her? Weren’t they supposed to do that before they repossessed a car? Heck, she’d only missed two—okay, maybe three—payments, but they hadn’t even given her any warning. Then she remembered she’d lost her apartment, and the land-line that went with it was the one she’d given to the car loan company. The line had been disconnected. And she’d had all her mail forwarded to a post office box that she hadn’t had time to check.

“So there’s nothing you can do?” She pleaded with the driver.

“Sorry, Ma’am.”

“How’d you even find it out here. I’m from Boston.”

The man tapped the side of the car. “GPS tracker. They know where you are all the time now.”

Nick had put his arm around her, and she collapsed against him, her heart sinking. What the hell was she going to do now? She realized how sad her circumstances were—now she had no car, no home, and no job.

Nick held her in his arms, rubbing soothing circles on her back, and murmured things in her ear. It almost made things all right. Well, at least it made them a heck of a lot better.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get this straightened out,” he said.

We?

Normally, the thought of anyone helping her would not have been a welcome one. She'd learned the hard way to only depend on herself after Eddie had dumped her. But Sam was in over her head. And thinking about Nick helping—even
wanting
to help—made her feel all warm inside.

But she didn’t want to tell Nick all her problems. He’d think she was a nutcase. She pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “Thanks. I feel so foolish. I had meant to check the app, and I could’ve avoided all this, and now I have no car.”

“Don’t worry. Between Tessa and me you won’t be hurting for rides. In fact, looks like you’ll be needing one home tonight and I have my truck at the ready.” Nick pointed to a black Ford F-150 sitting at the edge of the parking lot, and her heart did a little flip at the kind gesture.

“Okay. I really appreciate that. I better go pay my bill, though.”

Sam wasn’t in the mood for drinking anymore, so they finished their drinks quickly. Sam tried to pay for Nick’s beer to thank him for the ride, but he refused and after a short, friendly, and flirty battle Nick won out and paid for both her drinks along with his one beer.

She appreciated that Nick didn’t try to make small talk on the way home. She was deep in thought. What was the procedure for getting her car released? Did she even have the phone number for the loan company? Why did Nick smell so good?

She was keenly aware of his nearness. She couldn’t focus. Her attention kept drifting over to the way his muscular body relaxed into the driver’s seat. His big hands on the wheel, bulky biceps peeking out from his tee-shirt. His thick thighs and…

When he pulled up in front of Tessa’s house, she was reluctant to get out of the truck. Reluctant to leave his company.

He came around to the passenger side door and opened it for her. The truck was high, and she slid out, stumbling a little. Maybe because of the alcohol still running in her veins, or maybe from the heady feeling of being near him.

He caught her by the waist to keep her from falling. Her hands clutched his biceps and their eyes locked. Instead of letting her go, he pulled her in closer, his face dipping toward hers.

His warm breath ghosted over her face, and she drank in the earthy smell of leather and musk as she looked up into his eyes, now dark with desire. This time, when his gaze dropped down to her lips, she knew nothing could interrupt their kiss.

The kiss was soft at first. Hesitant. As if Nick was feeling her out, unsure of how to proceed. But when she pressed herself closer to him, his arms wrapped tighter, and he angled his head, deepening the kiss.

His hands rubbed her back, her hips. She moaned, opening her mouth and letting his tongue in. It tasted of grainy beer and salty pretzels. His hands, hot and rough with callouses, strayed under her shirt to stroke her sides, her back.

Sam gave in to the moment, twining her arms around Nick’s neck and through his hair. Pressing herself closer, she tasted his tongue with her own. The flush of desire pressed at her core, urging her closer to him. She wanted more of Nick Bradford. Much more.