All Shook Up (10 page)

He snatched it out of the air and shoved it back in his pocket. A faint smile curving up one corner of his mouth, he tipped his head toward Main Street and said, “Which way to the hardware store?”

“Left.”

Aside from a couple of terse directions, she didn’t say anything else, and J.D. caught himself shooting sidelong glances her way. It was the damnedest thing, but he felt…good. That wasn’t exactly a feeling he was familiar with, and, God knew, it didn’t make a lick of sense. The Lawrences had practically handed him proof on a silver platter that they talked out of both sides of their mouths. They treated him like family with one breath, then contacted the family lawyer to cut him out of his share of the lodge with the other, and he was furious with the lot of them.

Except…Dru hadn’t appeared to know anything about it. Had she known, she never would have given away the fact that the message was from Ben’s lawyer.

But that was hardly cause to regard her as his new best friend. She’d been pretty clear that she considered him a pimple on the butt of humanity. So why was he sitting here next to her feeling so damn good all of a sudden?

Hell. He hunched over the wheel defensively. It was probably just because this beat being hounded to kingdom come by Robbie Lankovich. Or maybe it was because Dru had a mouth on her that he found semi-entertaining. For someone he’d pegged as a little Hetty
Homemaker, she was a constant surprise. She seemed constitutionally incapable of being anything but politeness personified with the lodge guests—but she sure as hell was fearless when it came to being rude to him.

Or maybe this feeling of happiness didn’t have anything to do with her at all. Perhaps it was just residual amusement at the way Tate had played his mother to keep her from putting any restrictions on his viewing material. You had to admire the kid’s killer instincts; he’d gone straight for the jugular.

They pulled up in front of the hardware store a few moments later. J.D. intended to get Dru’s door for her, but he was only halfway around the back of the truck when she slammed the cab door shut behind her. She immediately set off for the store’s front entrance, and he had to take a couple of giant quicksteps just to catch up. He arrived in time to reach out in front of her and open the door, then stood back and indicated with a wave of his hand that she should proceed him. She sailed through, giving him a look that a young queen might have given a peasant getting notions above his station. He bared his teeth at her and followed in her wake.

The store was doing a fairly brisk Saturday-afternoon business. Several men perused the goods on the shelves, one couple wrangled good-naturedly over paint chips, and three old men stood around a display of lighting fixtures, shooting the breeze.

Then J.D. and Dru walked down the main aisle, and the place went dead silent. J.D. found it slightly unnerving, and he thought for a moment that it must have something to do with those teaser shorts and not-
quite-long-enough top Dru had on. Although her outfit was far from risqué,
he
was having a hard time keeping his eyes off the here-and-gone flashes of flesh as she moved. The momentary peek at the pale curve of her waist. The lush hint of hip.

Hell, it
rated
a moment of silence, if you asked him.

But when he made eye contact with the other people, he noticed that every eye in the place appeared to be on him.

Then conversations resumed as suddenly as they’d stopped, but on a quieter, more distracted level, and it was clear that nobody was willing to get so caught up in a discussion that he might miss out on something.

Dru seemed not to notice. She walked straight to the counter in the back of the store. “Afternoon, Harvey.”

“Hey, Dru.” A tall, thin man with a tubular nosepiece that led to a canister of oxygen nodded at her in a friendly manner, then thoroughly checked out J.D. “I imagine you’re here to pick up the AC unit.”

“Yes. Aunt Sophie said it finally came in.”

“Yep. It’s in the back. I can have Kev bring it out for you, if you’d like.” He inclined his head toward J.D. “Or is that what he’s here for?”

“Kev’s back?” Dru’s smile was so brilliant it made J.D. blink. “I thought he was some hotshot attorney in D.C. these days.”

“He’s taking a little time away. About your man here—”

“Oh! Yes! I’m sorry; I didn’t introduce you, did I? This is J.D. Carver.” She turned to him. “J.D., Harvey Bronsen. Bronsen’s Hardware, as you’ve probably figured out, belongs to him.” Turning her attention back
to the proprietor, she said, “J.D.’s our new partner at the lodge.”

It always took him by surprise when she publicly admitted his claim to Star Lake Lodge, but he kept his face impassive as the older man once again subjected him to a close scrutiny. Then Bronsen nodded and said, “I’ll just go get that unit.”

J.D. looked around while they waited. He was engaged in a stare-down with one of the geezers over by the lighting display when he felt Dru suddenly come to full alert next to him.

A deep voice exclaimed her name, and she said, “Oh, my God! Kev?” A tall man strode out of the doorway, flipped up the pass-through in the counter, and walked straight up to her, picking her up and twirling her around. Dru clutched his shoulders and laughed, and J.D.’s fists clenched at his sides as the heat of an uncharacteristic emotion roared hot and furious through his veins.

It was all he could do not to plant one in Kev-the-attorney’s smiling face.

D
ru had known Kev Bronsen forever. They’d gone through school together since the fourth grade, when Dru’s living arrangements with her aunt and uncle had become permanent.

They’d never been more than friends, though, and it was pure relief to be swung around in a man’s arms without having her face heat up or her heart pound out an erratic tattoo. She hugged him with sheer enthusiastic gratitude when he set her back on her feet. “It’s so good to see you,” she said and gave him a light peck on the lips.

A deep-throated sound like a dog’s warning snarl caused her to step smartly back from her old friend, and she twirled around, her heart rate unaccountably jacked into hyperdrive. Then she felt like an idiot, for J.D. merely stood with his hands in his pockets, shoul
ders relaxed and his face perfectly noncommittal, as he observed the two of them.

Her own posture went ramrod-militant. Even if that territorial sound had come from him, what was she doing jumping like a nervous girlfriend trying to avoid displeasing her lover? She could kiss whomever she darn well pleased.

She dredged up her manners. “Kev, this is J.D. Carver. J.D., Kev Bronsen.”

They regarded each other silently for a moment. Then Kev stepped around her and extended a hand to shake. J.D.’s hands remained firmly jammed in his pockets and he merely nodded. “Bronsen.”

Dru wound her arm through Kev’s when his hand dropped to his side, and she shot J.D. a glare. “Don’t mind him,” she said. “He prides himself on his lousy manners.”

“Hey.” J.D. shrugged. “Guy’s gotta glory in his accomplishments.”

“Not to worry, sugar,” Kev said coolly. Stroking Dru’s arm with a familiarity that was nearly sexual and not at all like him, he bared his teeth at J.D. “I know exactly what his problem is.”

That was more than Dru did. She didn’t like the way J.D.’s eyes narrowed and he suddenly straightened, or the combative light in Kev’s eyes. What was it with guys and their eternal pissing contests?

She dropped Kev’s arm and took a step that brought her midway between both men. “Lucky we’re in a hardware store,” she said. “It shouldn’t be a problem to find a tape measure to determine who has the biggest one.”

There was an instant of thunderous silence. Then: “She’s pretty cute when she gets all testy, isn’t she?” Kev said and reached for her braid.

Dru dodged his touch. The move backed her into J.D., and the hands he reached out to steady her when she stumbled over his big feet were hard and warm.

“You get that tape measure.” His voice was a low growl in her ear. “And you won’t ever give pencil-dick there another thought.”

She leaped forward as if she’d been goosed. Dammit! This was supposed to be her R and R, and here she was getting all riled up. If she ruled the world, men would never be allowed on the streets on a woman’s day off. She turned to Kev, who at the moment was only an increment above J.D. on her favor meter. “So what brings you home?” she demanded. “Are you here on vacation?”

“Nope. I’ve moved back.”

“You’re kidding—you couldn’t wait to get out of town! It’s all you ever talked about.”

“Yeah, well.” He rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “Turns out big-city living wasn’t all that I thought it would be.”

“But aren’t you an associate in some happening D.C. law practice?”

“Was. I left.” He must have seen she was about to demand details, for he smiled slightly and said, “I’m not saying I’ll stay here forever, Dru. But Dad’s not in the best of health, and I didn’t like some of my practice’s practices, so to speak. It was a good time to come home.”

“Speaking of your old man,” J.D. interrupted, “I
haven’t got all day. Where did he disappear to with that air-conditioning unit?”

“Probably out back, sneaking a smoke.”

Dru stared at Kev, horrified. “He’s on oxygen, and he’s still
smoking
?”

He shrugged. “Might as well. His emphysema is pretty far advanced, so quitting at this point’s not going to buy him much time.”

“Blowing himself up by lighting matches around an oxygen tank could shorten it considerably, though.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Dad. But to be fair, he does unhook the canister and turn it off before he lights up.”

As if he’d heard his name, Harvey banged through the back-room door, pushing the air-conditioning unit in front of him on a hand truck. He wheeled it up to Dru and slapped an invoice on the counter. “Here you go. Sign your John Hancock at the
X
there, and you’re on your way.”

She had just finished signing her name when a feminine voice said, “Rumors are flying fast and furious around town that you came in here with a good-lookin’ guy.”

Dru looked up to see Char sashaying down the aisle, and she smiled. “Hey, there. I was going to stop by to see you this afternoon, but my plans got changed when Aunt Soph asked me to pick up this AC unit we’ve been waiting on.” Patting the box in question, she indicated J.D. with a tilt of her chin. “She roped J.D. into coming along to provide the muscle.”

“And it’s that very muscle that’s got the whole town buzzing,” Char said and flashed him her trademark flirty smile. But when she saw the man who stood
slightly behind him, the humor dropped away from her face. “Well, wouldja look at what the dog dug up. You slumming in the old stomping grounds for a couple of weeks, Kev?”

“Hell, no,” he said. “If I’d wanted to slum, I would’ve headed straight for your place.”

“I see you haven’t lost your charm,” she said flatly. “When are you slithering back to the big city?”

Dru winced. Char and Kev had never gotten along. Their antipathy had been the bane of her existence back in high school, when she’d wanted nothing more than for them to like each other as much as she’d liked them both. She’d have thought that maturity would’ve lessened their hostility, but that didn’t appear to be the case. “Kev’s moved back, Char.”

“Be still, my heart.” The blonde pinned her gaze on him. “So where’s the little woman and your two-point-five kiddies, stretch? Tucked up at your father’s house?”

“Nope. The little woman left me for someone who didn’t work sixteen hours a day, and the kiddies never happened. How about you? Manage to lasso a husband yet? Or is that what brings you here—the need for more rope?”

J.D. stirred beside Dru. “Much as I’m enjoying the Punch and Judy show,” he said, “I have some other errands to run. I’ll go wrestle this unit into the truck.”

Dru never would have believed his company would be more appealing than Char’s or Kev’s, but she found herself saying, “I’ll go with you—I’ve got a few errands of my own.” She looked over at her friends, who had barely spared them a glance. The atmosphere
between them was thick with tension. “I’ll see you two later.”

“Christ,” J.D. muttered a few moments later as he squatted to get his arms around the heavy box. “Any more sexual friction between those two and the place’d go up in flames.”

Dru felt her mouth drop open. She snapped it closed. “As usual, you’ve got it all wrong. They don’t even
like
each other. They never have.”

He rose to his feet, the muscles in his shoulders, arms, and back jumping to prominent relief beneath his T-shirt as he tussled the unit onto the bed of the truck. When he got it situated he looked at her, and his pitying expression set Dru’s teeth on edge. “Whatever you say.”

“It’s not what I
say
, Carver. It’s a fact.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Dammit, don’t patronize—” She found herself addressing his back when he turned on his heel and walked away. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

“To get myself some swim trunks.”

She strode after him. “So you just walk away in the middle of a conversation? I was talking to you!”

“Oh, was that a conversation? Sounded to me like it was gearing up to be a tirade.” Without lessening his stride, he shot her a glance. “It’s my day off, blue eyes—I don’t have to listen to one of your lectures.”

His
day off? Digging her knuckles into her temples, she emitted a soft shriek of frustration.

That made him grin, a genuine smile of amusement
such as she’d seen directed only at her son. “You’re an interesting woman, Drucilla.”

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to provide you with a moment of comic relief.” She had to lengthen her stride to keep up with him as he headed for the Mercantile. “You could’ve bought a suit in the lodge’s sport shop, you know.”

His laugh was short and derisive. “Yeah, right. Have you looked at that stock lately? It sells Speedos, and that’s it.”

“What’s the matter with Speedos?”

“Aside from the fact that they’re butt-ugly and there’s no way in hell I’m wearing one? Not a damn thing.”

“Butt-ugly, huh? Hmmm. I’m so glad you took the time to share that thoughtfully concise evaluation with me. I’ll make a note to order some boxer-style trunks—in case some of our guests are as unevolved as you.”

He pushed open the door and stood back to let her precede him. “Unevolved. Is that what you call it when a guy doesn’t care to squeeze his package into half an ounce of shrink wrap?”

She resisted the urge to drop her gaze to the package in question and tipped her nose up instead as she breezed past him. “For a guy who bragged he’d win the my-dingus-is-bigger-than-yours contest, I would’ve thought that’d be right up your alley.”

“Only if I wanted to start a riot, sweetheart. Showcase the Natural Wonder like that and we’d have to call in the National Guard. Not to mention I’d never get a moment’s peace again from the females in Star Lake.”

She stopped dead in her tracks. “My God,” she breathed in near admiration. “I have never
met
anyone with such incredible balls.”

He shrugged modestly. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Okay, lousy choice of words.
She willed her face not to turn red. When her willpower didn’t have any noticeable effect, she deliberately dropped her gaze to the equipment in question. She studied it long and hard. Then she looked up into his hazel-green eyes and shrugged. “I’ve seen bigger and better.”

But only in her dreams. The truth was, she hadn’t seen the real deal in years. Stalking away, she made it around the end of one aisle and halfway down the next before collapsing against a shelf of bath towels.

Hands to her hot cheeks, she sucked air deep into her lungs and held it. Expelled it and sucked in some more in an attempt to catch her breath. She now knew he dressed to the left. And that his…package…was darn near as impressive as he claimed. Okay,
as
impressive. Especially when it’d started crowding his fly at her prolonged examination. The idea of seeing
that
in the honest-to-God flesh had the blood surging to her cheeks all over again.

But she’d strip naked and parade down Main Street before she’d massage his already huge ego by admitting it.

Not wanting to be caught hyperventilating among the bath accessories, she moved away from the shelf and went to grab a handbasket. As long as she was here, she might as well get a few of the toiletries she was running low on.

Cruising the aisles, she thought about the little bomb that J.D. had lobbed about Char and Kev. Could he be right? She’d love to reject the notion out of hand, but had to admit the desire probably stemmed from a knee-jerk need to say black when J.D. said white. And that was something she had to quit doing. Who would have believed, before he’d blown into her life, that she had it in her to be so reactive?

Now that the idea of Char and Kev striking sexual sparks had been raised, she had to concede it had a certain kind of logic. But wow. Wouldn’t
that
set tongues to wagging if folks caught on. There was nothing Star Lake liked quite so much as its gossip.

More important, Dru wondered if either Char or Kev realized what they were doing…or if it was only she who had been so slow to catch on.

J.D. watched Dru stare at a display of toilet plungers and mutter to herself. When she turned away, he found himself tracking the sway of her hips and her long legs as she moseyed down the aisle. With a soft oath, he tore his gaze away and went back to the stack of swim trunks. He had to quit spending so much time looking at her. And he
really
had to quit messing with her the way he’d done earlier.

Back in high school, he used to watch the good girls—during class, in the hallways, on the campus. When they caught him at it, he wouldn’t look away, getting a bittersweet sort of charge out of seeing them blush and scramble to get out of his range. The phase hadn’t lasted long—he’d outgrown the need to fluster them long before he’d graduated. Yet here he was, reverting to his old ways.

He didn’t know what it was about her. Partly, he supposed, it was that same old fascination with good girls rearing its ugly head. He’d figured out long ago
that
was a product of envisioning the sort of upbringing they’d had—the house, the yard, the mother and father who doted on them. And despite Dru’s having Tate out of wedlock, he considered her one of them. There was just something sort of luminous about her. Something untouched.

Yet she refused to be pigeonholed, and every time he thought he had her securely pegged, she slipped out of the niche he’d assigned her. She was no pushover scrambling to stay out of his way. When she’d turned around and scoped out the Natural Wonder until it’d started unfurling—then told him she’d seen better—he’d been mighty tempted to crowd her up against the nearest solid surface, and hadn’t particularly cared if it was horizontal or vertical.

He’d
show her better.

He gave up the search for a pair of swim trunks as a lost cause. The stock seemed to consist of either blindingly neon, baggy to the point of ridiculous, or garish Hawaiian prints. The hell with it. He’d hack off a pair of jeans and call it good.

As he passed a postcard rack, he stopped to check out the selection. He’d washed his hands of Butch, yet he still found himself picking out a card for him. His shoulders twitched defensively. So big deal, it would cost him a quarter. He probably wouldn’t even send it.