All Flash No Cash (6 page)

****

Pete glanced at CJ. She sat stiffly. “You
okay?”

“I think I was here once, too.” She grabbed
the bag of subs and slid out of the truck then wandered toward the
river. “With Dad.”

He gathered the sodas and the two folding
chairs CJ had hauled into the garage that first night, when she’d
brought him pizza and beer.

When she stopped at a big rock by the river,
he set everything down and waited for her. She wasn’t one for
stillness, and when she took the time to just stand and stare, he
figured there had to be a lot going on in her head. After a while,
she wandered over and sat in the chair next to him.

He handed her a sub and set her cup of soda
on the grass and they talked about the places around the region
they’d visited.

After they finished, Pete went back to the
truck for his sketchpad. He sat on the big rock by the water. “Can
I sketch you?”

“No.” She slid lower in her chair and closed
her eyes. “I just want to get some sun.”

She’d been quiet since the visit to her dad.
How could he change her mood?

A half hour later, he finished his drawing
and jumped off the rock, nearly landing on a snake. He must have
let out a curse because suddenly she was curled up on her
chair.

“What is it?” She sounded more curious that
afraid.

“Snake.” He looked closer. It was just a
harmless garter snake. A baby. He picked it up carefully, the way
he’d done a thousand times back on the ranch.

“Don’t you bring that over here, Pete
Gonally.” That was the boss lady’s voice he was used to.

“You don’t like snakes?” He took a step
toward her, holding the little thing up for her to see.

“No one in their right mind likes
snakes.”

He took another step. “You’re saying you’re
in your right mind?”

“I will throw a chair at you if you come one
step closer.” She got up and actually picked up the lawn chair.

“But he’s so cute.” He took another step.
“Look at those sweet eyes—”

“Pete. I’m serious.” She took a step back and
held the chair above her right shoulder.

“Okay. Okay.” He held out the snake and bent
down.

She set down the chair.

He put the creature on the grass but picked
up a short stick. “Just touch it once.” He jogged toward her,
holding the stick out in front of him.

“Pete, you shit. I’ll fire your ass.” She
kept the chairs between them, but stood her ground.

He stopped and held the stick flat in the
palm of his hand. “You afraid of a little bit of wood?”

“Oh, hayseed.” She stalked around the chairs
toward him, the gleam in her eye promising revenge. “You’re just
about to regret messin’ with me.”

Pete backed up slowly, wanting to draw out
this playful side of her.

When she advanced on him, he backed up at a
jog, judging how close he was to the riverbank by the rocks under
his boots.

She fisted her hands as she flip-flopped
toward him, but her lips curved upward slightly at the edges.

When he knew he was close to the water, he
opened his eyes wide, windmilled his arms as if he’d lost his
balance, and shouted, “Help!”

She ran the last few yards and grabbed him by
the front of his pants with both hands.

He stopped his acting, feeling her fingers
inside his fly. Instantly, blood flowed there and a hot pulse
swelled him until there was only a layer of cloth between her
fingers and his manhood.

CJ’s mouth formed a little “O” as she stared
down at the activity in his pants. She looked up at him, her eyes
sparkling green like the brightest spring leaf.

Of their own volition, his hands grasped her
arms. This was what he’d imagined when he’d thought of bringing her
here. The two of them, alone, their gazes locked, their hearts
pumping fast. He leaned in.

She tipped her head.

Their lips met, hers warm and trembling, his
firm and sure.

Sliding her hands onto his hips, she pulled
him closer to her curves, just barely pressing herself against the
ridge behind his zipper.

Pete set his hand on the nape of her neck and
ran his tongue over her lips.

She responded with a sigh, and he pressed his
tongue inside her sweet mouth, discovering that her taste was a
little oniony, a little breathless.

When his hand slid down her spine, she
shivered and let her tongue meet his.

Then there was nothing. She jumped back as if
he were the snake.

Between her brows, lines formed. “This isn’t
a good idea, Pete.” She pressed the back of her hand to her lips,
staring at him as if she couldn’t look away. “I thought I could
separate…I’m sorry.”

He took a moment to compose himself. “I’m not
sorry. I want this.” He didn’t want to waste any more time
pretending, going slow, not having her under him in her bed. “But
if you need more time…”

She shook her head. “I don’t need time. I
know what I want, and this isn’t it.” She turned and walked
away.

Son of a bitch. How had he misjudged the
situation? Pete picked up his sketchbook, the chairs and trash, and
followed her back to the truck. Maybe he hadn’t misjudged. Maybe
she just didn’t know her own mind right now? Either way, he’d give
her space.

For now.

But he wouldn’t make it easy for her to
ignore him.

That night, Pete walked into the bar at
nearly ten. Saturday night, and the place was packed. He had his
drawing rolled up in his right hand. Nearly three feet long, and
almost five wide, it showed the bike from a half-dozen angles.

He watched her talking to a biker sitting on
a stool on the opposite side of the bar. She never smiled. She’d
barely ever smiled at him, even when he knew he was being funny.
She took life too seriously.

CJ had been sullen and uncommunicative on the
short drive back to Dirty Harry’s this afternoon. Pete hadn’t tried
to change her mood, hadn’t tried to mellow her. He’d let her burn.
Then, when he’d stopped by the garage, and she was sliding out of
the truck, he’d struck. “We’ll do that again—and a whole lot
more—when you get your shit together.”

She’d been speechless, open-mouthed, and
furious. “Don’t plan on it, Pete.” Slamming the door, she’d spun
and stormed into the bar. CJ in a full fury was a spectacular
sight, and one that he’d never forget.

Now, when she looked his way from across the
bar, he could still feel the sexual tension, the pull between them
that she wanted to deny.

He held up the drawing.

Her eyes widened, she excused herself from
the conversation, and strode over to him. Jeans and boots, a
bar-logoed black T-shirt, she could have easily been a biker
mama.

“You done?” She stared at a spot on his
shoulder.

“I am.” He really wanted her to like them.
He’d taken one of her ideas and added it to his original drawing,
but the rest of it was…not even close to what she’d suggested.

She gestured for him to follow her back
toward her office.

He grabbed her arm. “Wait, CJ.”

The glare she gave his hand would have melted
skin from bone if she’d had her way. That same laser zap gazed into
his eyes. “I don’t want to talk about…what happened this
afternoon.”

“No, it’s not that.” He handed her the
drawing. “I want you to look at it when you aren’t busy. Not when
it’s rushed. Take some time to really see the story.”

She grabbed the drawing from him and frowned.
“Story? What the hell do you mean?”

“I’m heading back to the ranch tonight. You
have my number if you want to talk.”

She nodded and turned away, striding
stiff-backed to her office, her jeans cupping her round butt so
well, he could almost feel it in his hands.

“Ya don’t want to get her too wound up,
friend.” Dolby stood beside Pete, watching CJ stalk off. “She’s
more likely to unravel and kick your ass all the way back to Lemmon
than crack a smile for you.”

Pete gave the security chief a smirk.
“Anything would be better than the freeze-out I’m getting now.”

Dolby laughed, loud and fast. “Don’t bet on
it, Pete. Do not bet on it.” He walked away, a smile fixed on his
craggy face.

Pete went out the front door and walked
around the building to his truck. He didn’t want to bump into her
again. He’d said his piece. Now it was up to her. Crack a smile, or
kick his ass on up to Lemmon. Either way, he’d get to see her
again.

The next morning, Pete woke to the sun
streaming in the window of his room in the ranch house. A change
from his usual pre-dawn alarm when he worked the oil field. He sat
bolt upright. Was that bacon cooking?

Five minutes later, he sat down to a
breakfast the size only his mother could create. She sat opposite
him, a mug of steaming coffee between her hands. “Glad you made it
home this weekend. The Amhurst boys have been giving your dad
conniptions since they got here yesterday morning.”

“He just doesn’t like anyone but us Gonallys
monkeying with his equipment.”

“That’s for sure.” She stole a strawberry
from the bowl next to Pete’s plate. “When he saw your truck in the
yard this morning, he went from grumpy bear to teddy bear.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if he’s ever gotten close
to being a teddy bear, but I’m glad he didn’t run upstairs and drag
me out of bed at first light.”

She smiled. “He’s got a rough exterior, but
he’s soft as cotton on the inside.”

The description could almost apply to CJ as
well. Except for the cotton inside. She was more—steel wool. “Mom,
how do you get around the hard part and into the soft part?”

Her eyebrows rose. “I’m assuming you’re not
asking for bedroom advice, here.”

He laughed. “No, ma’am.”

She fanned her face. “That’s a relief.”
Tipping her head, she stared off, looking pensive. “I guess it’s
just a matter of learning where he’s at in his head. When he’s
really hot under the collar, I relax and just let him blow off
steam. When he’s frustrated, I offer to help, but I don’t push or
make suggestions.” She shrugged and looked at him. “You have
someone who you want to get closer to?”

He poked at his hashed browns. “Yep. And
she’s a challenge.”

“Good. That’ll make it worthwhile, but…” His
mother stood and set her cup in the sink. “I hope she’s worthy of
your efforts, son.” Patting his shoulder, she gave him a kiss on
the cheek. “That big house of yours is nearly finished. And I’m
looking forward to your filling it up with a bunch more
Gonallys.”

“Aw, Maw.” He ducked his head, chuckling as
she walked out the screen door. Pete could just make out the roof
of his house. What would it be like, having his own home? Finding
the perfect woman to share it with. Creating the next generation
with her.

The vision of a half-dozen curly blond heads
in sizes from infant to teenager popped into his brain. And in the
center of them all, CJ wearing an apron and a smile.

He nearly choked on the last bit of chow. “CJ
is not likely to wear either one of those any day soon.” He loaded
his dishes in the dishwasher and checked his phone again.

She hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Did she
hate the drawing? Love it so much she was speechless? Or was she
still just mad as a wet hen about the kiss? And his promise
afterward? His thumb went to the call button, but he forced it
back. She’d contact him in her own good time.

But it was hell waiting for her.

****

CJ jumped as the front door of Dirty Harry’s
opened. Three bikers walked in. No Pete. It was Wednesday night and
she’d been expecting him to stomp in the door since Monday when the
call had come in from Williston—and she’d said something she wished
she hadn’t.

Pushing it out of her mind, she finished
making a margarita and set it on the waitress’s tray. She looked
up, and there he was; Pete, in all his cowboy glory, from his black
hat all the way down to his fancy boots. The in-between looked damn
good, too; a red plaid shirt and dark jeans.

In his hand, he held a long roll of paper,
and in his eyes, she saw…nothing. No anger, no disgust, no
frustration. Just those beautiful brown eyes looking at her like
she wasn’t worth the time or effort to get worked up about.

“Ma’am.” Pete touched the brim of his hat.
“If you have a moment, I have the revised drawing you
requested.”

CJ swallowed.
Requested
was an
interesting choice of words since she’d practically told his school
counselor that Pete had fucked up.

She had two bartenders on tonight, and she
gestured to Tony that she was taking a break.

As she walked out from behind the bar, she
was glad she’d dressed a little nicer, in a sleeveless teal blouse
and a black denim skirt that reached the top of her dress boots.
“In my office please, Mr. Gonally.” She led the way.

Not that she didn’t feel guilt at the way it
had happened, but she wouldn’t back down and apologize to him.
She’d been right to say the things she’d said. When CJ opened the
door to the office, laughter floated out. Her payroll and payables
person, Vanessa, sat talking to Dolby and his son, Jake.

They all greeted her, she said hello and
backed out, closing the door. Only one other place for privacy.
“Come upstairs.” She walked to the elevator, assuming Pete was
following by the clomp of his boots behind her.

Silent, proud, angry Pete. She’d be lucky if
he ever spoke to her again about anything besides the bike. Turning
to look at him, she realized he might not talk to her about the
bike, either.

The doors opened, they stepped in, and she
pressed the code in for her apartment.

As the elevator moved slowly upward, she
worked up the courage to start the conversation. “He called me.
Your school counselor, I mean. Monday, he called me, not the other
way around.” Damn, she sounded like a moron.