Tall, Tanned & Texan. Kimberly Raye
did he want one.
RANCE WATCHED DEANIE walk toward the cab that waited at the curb. Sunlight drenched her, outlining her petite figure clad in the hot pink sundress.
An honest-to-god figure, with enough curves and indentations to make his mouth water.
Not that he’d ever doubted she actually had one. He’d just never really thought about it until that night at the creek.
Up until then, she’d been Teeny Deanie. His buddy’s kid sister. His personal pain-in-the-ass.
Speaking of asses…
His gaze hooked on the gentle sway of her tight, round bottom beneath the short pink dress and his stomach hollowed out. For a split second, he imagined bending her over, peeling the dress up and sinking his fingers into her soft pale flesh. He imagined sinking something else into her, as well, and his groin throbbed its agreement. He licked his lips and tasted sweet, sugary candy and something else. Something rich and potent that made his gut ache for another taste.
“I have no intention of tagging along after you.”
Her words echoed in his head as he watched her fold herself into the cab and pull the door shut behind her, and he frowned. She was telling the truth. While he’d tried to convince himself that her indifference had just been an act to stir his interest, he knew better.
While she was still attracted to him—there was no mistaking her response to his kiss—she didn’t want to be attracted to him.
She wanted to start a new life.
To put the past behind her.
To forget him and, from the way she motioned for the cab driver to take off, make him walk from the small airport to the resort.
He picked up his steps as bitterness swirled inside him and made his throat tight.
Forget him?
After all they’d shared, she wanted to chuck it all and wipe the slate clean. Hell, she didn’t even seem to give a lick that he’d broken his leg not four months ago and was, most likely, in some serious pain with all this walking.
Okay, so they hadn’t actually shared anything, except a few cookies, the occasional slice of cake and the every-now-and-then bag of his favorite jawbreakers. But that had been his fault. He’d resisted her advances and done his best to discourage her, at least romantically. He’d had nothing against talking to her when she sat next to him on the bus or showed up on his doorstep.
Christ, he’d liked talking to her.
There’d been no need to search for the right words to try to impress her. She’d liked him anyway. Even more, she’d listened and understood everything he’d had to say.
And even the stuff he hadn’t been able to say.
He could still remember the time he’d been shooting marbles with a group of boys in the schoolyard. She’d been in the first grade and he’d been in the fifth, and she’d just started following him around. He’d had the biggest collection of marbles out of all the boys, and he’d been dead certain he was good enough to keep them.
He’d been wrong.
There had been a new kid at school and he’d been better. Rance had lost all of his marbles that day, and most of the ones that belonged to his two brothers.
Rance remembered crying only two times in his life. That had been the first time. He’d gone home and bawled his eyes out. He’d been bawling, as a matter of fact, when Deanie had come knocking. She’d held a great big bag of jawbreakers in her small hands.
“Jawbreakers?” He swiped at his tears and sniffled.
“For the ones you lost,” she told him.
“They weren’t jawbreakers, doofus. They were marbles. I can’t shoot jawbreakers.”
She frowned as she stared at the bag, as if thinking hard for the first time. And then she smiled and popped one into her mouth. “No, but you can eat them.”
She held the bag out to him and he had the urge to tell her to get lost. But something about the way she looked at him, her blue eyes warm and full of understanding, made him want to reach out.
He took a jawbreaker and popped it into his mouth. Cherry exploded on his tongue and he smiled, too.
She’d been there the second time in his life when he’d cried, as well. He’d been sixteen then and he’d just lost both his parents. He’d barely arrived home after the double funeral before the townsfolk had started to arrive. They’d brought everything from ham to casseroles. Miss Jackie had brought her famous red velvet cake and Miss Myrtle had brought homemade bread and strawberry preserves. But he hadn’t had an appetite for any of it. He’d felt sick inside. Empty. Dead.
And then he’d opened the door to find Deanie standing there with a great big bag of jawbreakers. She hadn’t said a word. No “I’m sorry for your loss” or “Let me know if I can do anything.” She’d just stared at him with her bright blue eyes and popped a candy into her mouth. Then she’d handed the bag to him.
He’d done the same and while he’d sucked the cherry coating off, he’d actually felt better.
As the memories swirled in his head, he couldn’t help the sudden feeling that maybe he’d been a genuine dumb ass back then. Maybe Deanie had been the perfect girl and he just hadn’t been able to see past her T-shirts, baggy jeans or mud-covered cowboy boots.
Maybe he shouldn’t have walked away that night down by the creek.
And maybe your pride’s just hurt, buddy.
Maybe. Probably.
There was only one way to prove it.
If the lust eating him up from the inside out was the result of his wounded ego, it would fade once he and Deanie had a good, old-fashioned roll in the hay. Then she could get on with her “education” and he could stop thinking those damnable what-ifs.
And if it didn’t?
As soon as the question struck, Rance squashed it. It would. He had his flaws, but he couldn’t have been that blind. Any more than he could have said yes to her that night. She’d been too young and he’d been too old, and it just wouldn’t have been right.
He picked up his steps, careful to add a nice, pained looking limp to his gait, and called out. “Wait up!”
She turned toward him and he caught her stare.
Suspicion glimmered in her true blue gaze, but not before he’d seen the flash of concern. She said something to the driver, leaned over and shoved open the door.
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