Beauty and the Brit (18 page)

“Nice of you, mate,” David said. “Are they compensating you for the trouble?”

Dewey blew out a dismissive breath and waved his hand as he turned. “Civic duty. It’s just what you do.”

David stood back as Dewey and Joey said their good-byes to Rio, hopped in the second car, Dewey’s gray Sonata, and drove off. He waited for Rio to finish her slow inspection of doors, glove box, and boot. When she returned to his side, she held one piece of paper—the note Hewett had described: “Return to Rio Montoya.”

“It’s Paul’s writing, for what it’s worth.”

“Does that mean anything, do you think?”

“Only that he’s been in the car recently. There’s a new dent on the driver’s door and a scratch along the lower half of the driver’s side rear door, so somebody played a little rough with it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It’s an inner city car. It shouldn’t look pretty. It just pisses me off that Paul is part of this.”

“Come on, love, let’s go inside. I know you drink coffee. Do you drink tea?”

“Herbal tea. Sometimes.”

“I’ll see what I can find.”

Chapter Thirteen

D
AVID BROUGHT THE
tea to the deck off the back of the house that faced a stand of hardwoods ringing the property. Dawn made the trees to the west glow. He would have fallen for the land his farm sat on even without the buildings. The rolling mix of pastureland and woods made it one of the prettiest places in the area. The fact that the house and barns had been ready to update had made purchasing it irresistible.

He wished Bridge Creek wasn’t at such a crossroads. The recent economy had wreaked havoc with luxury businesses like his. And his father’s working visit the previous summer had been an enormous drain on his meager savings. The bells and whistles on the new arena hadn’t been covered by the insurance money he’d gotten to replace the one lost in the tornado. Two years ago already. How could that be?

“This is nice.”

Rio came through the patio door with two mugs. Her hair still tangled in crazy waves, but her features had softened, and her vulnerability had returned. He set his pot of hot water on the small table in front of a double rocking lounger and sat. She sat beside him.

“It is. Perfect sunrises. A little wildlife hops and past now and again.”

“The only wildlife we regularly see in the cities are squirrels and birds.”

She poured tea from the pot into the two mugs and lifted hers between cupped palms. He liked watching Rio inhale, close her eyes, and lift her bare feet up to tuck them beneath her. Her knee brushed his thigh.

She needed this haven. This escape. It was the reason he’d let her perception that he was wealthy go unchallenged. He normally didn’t appreciate being lumped into the category of gentry, even though he’d worked very hard on his ten-year plan to turn Bridge Creek into a showpiece that could attract top level riders. He’d saved. He’d allowed his mother to pour her time and talents into the place. He’d allowed his father to use his name to start building the facility’s reputation.

But he was out of funding, out of options, out of ideas after the past few years’ big hits. He could still afford to go out to dinner. Still afford to shop for groceries certainly. But his budget was stretched. Rio didn’t need to think she was any more of a burden than she already did. She wasn’t a burden. Neither was her sister. One good thing his eccentric mother had taught him was that people came first and that, somehow, Heaven would provide.

“Earth to David.”

He blinked. “Sorry. I’m afraid I was just thinking that today’s the day my mum is arriving.”

“Do you know when?”

“Mid-afternoon, according to her messages. I’m not to pick her up. She wants her own car so she will rent one. I guess we’ll just have to be surprised.”

Her eyes gave away neither anticipation nor dread. “Are you sure we’re not in the way?”

“I am sure. I’m not saying you won’t want to run screaming.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

“No. There’s no way to describe Mum, that’s all. Like I told you, she’s adorable and vexing all at once. The main reason she and my father split up is because they were mutually uncontrollable. He couldn’t control her with inflexibility and firmness, and she couldn’t change him with sweetness and stubbornness.”

“Sounds like they should have been soul mates forever.”

He laughed at the wry humor in her voice. “In an odd way they still are. There are still fireworks when they’re together. The explosiveness is more fun now that they’re divorced.”

She settled deeper into the rocker. Her left leg remained folded beneath her, but she planted her right sole on the cushion and hugged her knee and thigh while sipping her tea.

“Mmmmm.” She closed her eyes. “What’s this?”

“Some minty cocoa thing. I grew up on stout Yorkshire tea so this stuff is a bit anemic. It smells good, though, and it’s good for guests.”

A thump punctuated his explanation, and both of them looked to the cat padding across the deck after having jumped from the railing.

“Thirty-one!” Rio said.

David eyed the bundle hanging from its mouth and tried not to laugh. “Uh, Rio, be warned—”

The cat dropped the dead mouse on the decking in front of them, looked up, and let out a yowl that announced her presence to the whole farm.

“Ohmygosh!” Rio screeched like a girl in a cartoon and twisted on the seat right into his chest. She buried her eyes, and he wrapped both arms around her.

“It’s just—”

She was laughing, and this was no giggle but an enormous, rolling guffaw complete with gasps for breath. He held her, her body shaking uncontrollably against his. She’d landed so spontaneously in his arms that it seemed the most natural thing in the world. She pulled away to wipe her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She coughed. “I did
not
see that coming.”

“I warned you about the mice.”

“You did.” She unrolled herself from the ball she’d become and groaned. “Ow. I still can’t move fast. I think my legs hurt more than they did yesterday.”

“My poor little greenhorn.”

Her smile sent his pulse on a free-for-all. Having her so genuinely happy—or seemingly so—made his worries feel lighter. The young orange-and-black cat meowed again and leaped onto the chair.

“She brought that as a gift, you know,” he said.

“I do know.” She pulled the kitten onto her lap, and David marveled. The animal was pretty but had won no friends. With Rio scratching its belly, however, it acted like God’s gift to personable cats. She lowered her voice to a sexy coo. “Thank you, sweet little Thirty-one. You’re beautiful and thoughtful, but can I ask a favor? Since dead animals aren’t my favorite thing, how ’bout you just bring yourself next time?”

The cat whirred like a little trolling motor.

“You have a way with her.”

“Nah, she just found a kindred spirit.” Rio nuzzled the cat.

Having Rio as a kindred spirit would be nice, he thought. But nothing could be further from the truth. She was his opposite in so many ways—a fighter, unafraid to speak her mind, protective, and focused. All qualities he pulled out only if he really needed them. Even so, she felt perfect, half-leaning on him as she fondled the cat’s ears.

“What do you have in common with a little cat like that?”

“We’re both oddly colored. We’re both a little leery of the world. We’d both kind of rather be alone . . .”

She trailed off as if embarrassed, and David seized the opportunity to straighten and take her by both shoulders to turn her toward him. The cat hissed like a cobra and swiped at him with claws unsheathed.

“Hey now!” Rio picked up Thirty-one and held her in front of her face. “I like him, so you be nice.”

David reached to stroke the kitten, and it hissed again.

“Right. We’ll have no more of that.” Calmly he took Thirty-one by the scruff of her neck and held her the way a mother cat would. “You can play with Rio later. It’s my turn.”

He reached through the deck rails and set the cat on the grass. She protested plaintively. Then he bent over, grasped the tip of the dead mouse’s tail, and picked it up.

“Gross.” Rio grimaced.

“I’ll toss it into the trees over there,” he said. “The mouse equivalent to a burial at sea.”

“My hero.” Her voice carried to him, deadpan.

He got rid of the mouse, then ran his fingers under water from the hose coiled just off the back step of the deck. He joined her again.

“Why did you really shoo away the cat?” she asked.

“Other than the fact the little puma was going to slash me open and feast on my pancreas?”

“That itty bitty thing?”

“She’s taken to you. If you’re not careful, you’ll have a nasty bodyguard cat on your hands.”

“Do I need a bodyguard?”

“Do you want one?”

That stopped her a moment. She pursed her lips. “You said it was your turn to
play
. I’m wondering what you meant.”

“The truth? I’m feeling decidedly unmotivated to work and that scares me a bit. So I’m trying to figure out why you make me want to ignore my chores, drink girlie tea . . . kiss people without warning. This isn’t me.”

“Funny you should say that . . .” Her words trailed off.

“What?”

She sighed. “I’m not sure who I am here either.”

“Look.” He lifted one hand and caressed her knuckles gently with his thumb. “We wouldn’t think this was strange if we’d met through a friend or at a pub and we were attracted to each other. And I’ll admit there’s definitely attraction. On my part.”

“Mine, too. It would be silly to deny it. But I’m not going to be here that long.”

“A little while—until you’re safe.”

“So what are you asking?” A tinge of playfulness crept into the question. “To date me? To kiss me? To . . .”

“See whatever of your tattoos you’re willing to show me.”

“I . . . what? Seriously?”

The question sent her features into such confusion that he laughed. “Is it so unbelievable that I’m intrigued? You said you have six. How can I help but wonder what they are?”

She cocked her head and studied him with a suggestive smile, as if deciding his worthiness. “I can show you some of them.”

“What will I learn from them? About you?”

“It’s more what you won’t learn—where the feather goes. Or the horse’s tail.”

He leaned closer. “Awww, c’mon.”

She only shook her head. “I can show you the moon.” At his raised brows she glowered. “Not that kind of moon.”

“Would you show me the horse’s head again?”

She smiled indulgently and swiveled in place. Bending forward, she pulled down the waistband of the cotton sleep pants, and this time David wasted no time in shock. He examined the art on her back with wonder. He hadn’t noticed the subtle golden shading in the horse’s dished face and arched neck, or the delicate strokes of pure white ink in its sweeping mane and tail. The palomino she’d said she wanted.

An urge he refused to control made him extend his finger and trace the flowing, heart-shaped curve of the horse’s tail. She twitched, and he heard her tiny intake of breath. He tamped down the heat it ignited, frustrated that he still couldn’t see the end of the tail or the point where it curved to meet the mane. The desire to follow below the waistband of her heart-covered pants nearly wrecked his self-control, but he dragged his finger from her skin.

She shrugged off her lightweight sweatshirt and exposed the skimpy knit top that served as her pajamas. “I can show you this one.” With the deliberateness of a striptease, she slipped the string strap from her right shoulder and let it fall to her elbow. “Pull the fabric past my shoulder blade.”

He tugged gently on the fabric, his fingers clumsy with the task. The tattoo he exposed just beneath her shoulder blade extended down and toward her side—a black-and-white image of the moon and stars, dark and bright at the same time. Striking and beautiful.

“Damn,” he said. “That’s a stunner, isn’t it?”

She straightened and spun on the seat again, pulling her sweatshirt back around her shoulders. The soft knit T-shirt stretched across her breasts, and their perfection pressed out in relief against the fabric. The outline of one nipple beckoned like a signal light. He caught her by both upper arms as he had in the park.

“Attraction,” he said. “Fascination. Red hair. That’s all.”

“I’m not wearing a bra,” she added, as he lowered his mouth. “It could be shallow male lust.”

“Trust me, you’re not half-wrong,” he whispered next to her mouth. “But we promised we wouldn’t do this again, so if you tell me to stop I will. I’m shallow but not irredeemable.”

She
made the final move into his kiss and managed to surprise him.

Her hands grasped either side of his head, and she angled her mouth so it fit better against his. Weaving her fingers through his hair, she played with the pressure of their lips, opening and closing hers with butterfly-like nibbles. He followed her lead and cupped her ears, massaging his thumbs just in front of them, causing her to melt closer and open her mouth. Their tongues collided in sweet, mint tea goodness, and she smiled behind the kiss, sighing in acceptance. The vibrations carried tremors all the way to his gut. Her fingers dancing in his hair sent goose bumps bursting across his scalp.

He pulled slowly away, drawing out the kiss and touching her bottom lip with the pad of his thumb after they parted. “The first kiss might have been a fluke,” he said. “Isn’t that what we said?”

“Uh-huh.” She blinked a couple of times as if coming out of a stupor.

“What do you think now?”

“I think you’re dangerous. You shrivel my brain and turn me as boy crazy as my sister.”

“I could like being considered dangerous.”

She stood and slowly licked her swollen lips. “You could have gone further,” she said. “I practically flashed you a neon welcome sign. And if you’d touched me, like I was praying you would, I’d have liked it. But you didn’t.” A wistful smile lit on her lips. “I didn’t know I needed you to be a gentleman—they’re hard to find these days. Thank you. I’d better go get ready for my job interview.”