Designed for Love (13 page)

“Come on, we’re done. We should celebrate.”

“Wil, I’m exhausted.”

Wil pulled her to her feet and guided her toward the hall leading to the bedrooms. “Go take that shower and get dressed. I’ll meet you back here in an hour and take you to the Ranch and show you what a Saturday night in Redmond is like.”

“Okay.” She
was
curious about what a night out with Wil would be like.

“See you in an hour,” Wil said, just before she closed the front door.

Jillian nodded and headed down the hall. She went to the bedroom closet and pushed hangers aside one by one.

“What does one wear to a redneck bar?” she wondered aloud. Not expecting to do a lot of socializing, she hadn’t brought much more than a couple of business suits and clothes to work in. But she finally settled on dark jeans and a boldly colored scoop-neck shirt.

She showered quickly, dressed, and applied light makeup. Deciding to let her hair fall freely over her shoulders, she brushed it until it shone.

“What’s wrong with you? It’s not a date,” she muttered as she checked her reflection in the mirror and smoothed a hand over her hair. The hollow disappointment that followed this reminder was unexpected.

*

As Wil steered into the parking lot of Rambles Ranch, Jillian commented on the assortment of SUVs, sedans, and minivans among the expected pickup trucks.

A row of chrome-clad motorcycles flanked one side of the door.

“Do you ride?” she asked as Wil parked in one of few remaining spots.

“No,” Wil said emphatically.

“Really? Because I can picture you dressed in black leather on a big Harley.”

“I don’t like motorcycles. Don’t get me wrong, they look cool. But I have no desire to ride one.” Wil had seen one too many idiots lose control and end up sliding across asphalt. “You look surprised.”

“Well, I just—ah—you…”

Understanding the reason for the quick flush rising up Jillian’s neck, Wil let her stammer uncomfortably for a second before she interrupted. “Why, Miss Sealy, you weren’t stereotyping me. Were you?”

“Not stereotyping, exactly.”
Fantasizing is more like it.
She’d been imagining clinging to Wil on the back of a bike. Not once had she ever thought the smell of leather and exhaust could be an aphrodisiac, but if Wil’s body filled that leather, she might consider it so. She hoped the lust pumping through her wasn’t evident in her voice. To escape Wil’s amused expression, Jillian pushed her door open and slid out of the truck. She cleared her throat and said, “Busy place.”

“There aren’t a lot of places to go on Saturday night. The teenagers hang out at the quarry on the weekends.”

“They don’t get caught?” Jillian asked as they fell into step together.

Wil shrugged. “Kids have been going down there since I was that age. I guess as long as there’s no trouble, the cops leave them alone.”

Jillian bumped her shoulder against Wil’s. “So, you used to hang out there. Did you have a car?”

“Usually I ended up borrowing Dad’s old truck. Of course, I doubt he knew where I was taking it or what I was doing in it.”

“What were you doing?”

“You know what kids do—trying to be cool, drinking, playing our music loud.”

It was nearly dusk, not quite dark enough to trigger the lights in the parking lot, but a row of lantern-shaped path lights illuminated the shadows of the sidewalk next to the building.

Jillian threaded her arm through Wil’s. “Did you have a girlfriend?”

They reached the front door, and as Wil grabbed the handle she paused and answered quietly. “No.” She opened the door, and if she said anything else it was lost in the mix of music and voices that spilled out.

“Why not?” Jillian persisted, raising her voice to compete with the noise. “I bet you had a ton of girls chasing you.”

“No. I wasn’t even sure what it meant to be gay back then, and I definitely didn’t have any role models around. It wasn’t easy to be out in such a small town. I was just an awkward kid who was scared of being different and wanted my peers to like me.”

As they walked inside and were immediately surrounded by people, Jillian didn’t pursue the subject.

The decor was over the top, from the split-rail fence flanking the doors to the large milk cans acting as stools at the bar. Jillian was actually disappointed not to find a sawdust floor.

“What are you drinking?” Wil bent close to be heard over the music.

“Beer is fine.”

Wil signaled the bartender and Jillian surveyed the diverse crowd. Men in ties with their shirtsleeves rolled up and commuters stopping for a drink after their one-hour drive from the nearest city milled about among men in jeans and work shirts. At the bar, a few women scanned the crowd a little too casually, and Jillian guessed they were sizing up the males. Near the dance floor a group of women filled two tables, clearly there to socialize together as opposed to seeking company.

“Wil,” a voice boomed from behind them. Jillian turned to find Bill leaning against the bar. Today he wore a dingy baseball cap and his T-shirt bore the Van Halen logo. “And Miss Jillian, it’s good to see you again.”

“Hi, Bill.”

“Hey, Billy.” Wil handed Jillian a bottle of beer and greeted him with a handshake that turned into a half hug.

“We’ve got a booth over there if you ladies would like to join us.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

Wil looked at Jillian. “You mind?”

“Lead the way.”

“Fellas, meet Jillian Sealy,” Bill called as they approached a large booth full of guys.

Jillian tried to keep up as he called out names and each man raised a hand in greeting, but she was quickly lost. Two men cleared out of one side of the booth and pulled up chairs from other tables. Wil gestured Jillian in, then slid in behind her.

“Make room,” Bill said, moments before he squeezed in beside Wil.

“Sorry,” Wil mumbled as she was sandwiched between them. She stretched her arm along the back of the seat behind Jillian. “We can sit somewhere else.”

“It’s okay.” Jillian braced her hand on Wil’s leg and shifted in an effort to ease the tight fit.

Jillian’s fingers were pressing high on Wil’s thigh and she froze as their gazes collided. She caught her fingernails on the seam on the inside of Wil’s jeans and squeezed her leg. Wil’s eyes darkened and she moistened her lower lip. The table hid Jillian’s actions, and she could have easily slipped her hand up to cup Wil. Her hand trembled with the effort of containing the uncharacteristic impulse. Wil covered it with her own and said something under her breath.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Jillian felt the whisper of that word against her cheek and realized if she turned her head only a few inches, she could kiss Wil. She wanted to, badly. And despite the logical reasons why she shouldn’t, only the five men crowded around them stopped her.

*

“Another beer, Wil?” One of the guys reached across the table, grabbed their empties, and passed them to the waiting server.

Wil nodded and turned to Jillian. “Do you want another?”

“I’ve had three already.” Jillian was light-headed. It had been a while since she’d had more than the occasional Manhattan with dinner.

“So, that’s a no?”

“Okay. One more, but that’s my limit.”

Wil held up two fingers and the server headed for the bar. “Are you okay? You’re not bored, are you?” Wil asked, bending close.

“I’m fine. Your friends are…interesting.” Jillian glanced at the men carrying on around them. They seemed like nice-enough guys, though a few were a little rough around the edges for Jillian’s taste. And the Ranch lacked the sophistication of Jillian’s usual watering hole in Cincinnati. But feeling Wil’s body pressed firmly against the length of her side was enough to distract her. Wil’s thigh was warm against hers even through two layers of denim, and Wil’s arm still rested along the back of her neck.

“Well, other than Bill, they’re not exactly friends, more like—”

“Drinking buddies.”

“For lack of a better term, yes. We spend so much time working, it’s nice to be able to unwind every once in a while.”

“What else do you do to…unwind?” Jillian hadn’t meant the question to sound so much like a come-on.

Wil’s smile brought butterflies to Jillian’s stomach. “Well, I don’t know. What did
you
have in mind?”

“I—uh—meant—”

“I know what you meant, but I couldn’t resist. Summers are our busiest time, so I don’t have a ton of free time. But I do a little woodworking or go down to the lake.”

A sudden burst of laughter drew their attention back to the other occupants of their table.

“What about it, Wil, you wanna ride tonight?” Bill asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Wil shook her head. “I haven’t done that since I was too young to know better.”

“Done what?” Jillian asked, feeling left out.

“That.” Wil pointed toward the back of the bar where Jillian saw a group gathered around a roped-off circle. In the center, a mechanical bull gyrated and dipped, trying to unseat the lanky man clinging to its back.

“Come on, Wil. I’ll put twenty bucks on the bull.” One of the men slapped a meaty hand with a crisp bill trapped under it on the table in front of them.

“I’m in,” Bill said, throwing his money down. “But I know better than to bet against Wil. My money’s on her.”

Several other bills landed on the table as men shouted out their bets.

Jillian laughed. “You’ve actually done that?”

“What’s so funny?” Wil seemed offended.

“Nothing. I just can’t picture it.”

“Well, let me help you out with that.” She downed the rest of her beer, shoved Bill out of the way, and strode toward the back of the bar followed by an entourage of men egging her on.

“Wil.” Jillian hurried to catch up and grasped her arm, but Wil pulled it away. “Wil, what are you doing?”

Wil reached the edge of the ring and nodded at the man operating the controls. He grinned and lifted his chin in return.

“I didn’t mean—” Jillian flinched as the current rider was flung off and landed several feet away. Despite the foam pads lining the floor, he was slow to get up. “You’re not really going to get on that thing, are you?”

Their eyes met and stubborn pride burned in Wil’s. She unbuttoned her shirt and slipped it from her shoulders, revealing a gray tank top that hugged her small, firm breasts and flat stomach. “Hold this.”

Jillian took the shirt and watched, stunned, as Wil walked over to talk to the operator. Then she climbed up on the worn leather and grasped the handle, the muscles of her forearm bunching as she set her grip. She squared her strong shoulders, then raised her left hand over her head and nodded.

The bull began to rock, slowly at first. Wil alternately folded herself over the front of the machine and stretched back, reaching her arm up and back. Her denim-encased thighs hardened with the effort of keeping her body centered, and her upper body flowed with the rhythm of the bucking bull. The operator jerked the machine hard to the right. Wil’s chin was tucked to her chest and her face was a study in concentration as she seemed to anticipate the spin and managed to stay astride.

Jillian would never have thought she would find anything remotely arousing about a woman riding a mechanical bull, but as she stood at the edge of the ring, her entire body buzzed. Though Wil’s attention never wavered from the bull, Jillian could feel a thread of energy connecting them. Wil had reacted instantly to Jillian’s amusement earlier and now she was showing off. For her. Obvious displays of bravado normally didn’t do it for her. But seeing Wil’s raw power meld sinuously with grace, combined with the knowledge that it was meant to impress her, turned her on. Molten heat flowed along her limbs and pooled between her thighs.

The bull made another sharp spin and Wil’s hips slid against the impossible centrifugal force. Jillian braced herself, expecting to see Wil flung off, but somehow she held on. Her arm strained against her own weight, and Jillian was hit with the memory of those same muscles flexing beneath her grasping hand as Wil stroked her. Jillian watched Wil’s hips and, suddenly, she wanted to feel that hard body rocking against hers again.

The operator seemed to take no mercy on Wil, grinning as he frantically worked the controls. But before he could unseat her, a horn sounded and he held his hands up. The bull slowed and, without power driving the hydraulics, sank lower. Raising both arms, Wil slid her leg over the machine and dropped to the ground. Amid whistles and shouts, she slapped the back of the bull.

As Wil approached, she responded to the high fives and pats on the back, but her gaze was locked on Jillian. Caught off guard by her own reaction, Jillian sought retreat behind familiar aloof indifference, but was unable to summon it. She was entranced by Wil’s eyes, by the glassy high of triumph in them, and even more by the way they seemed to seek her approval.

“Did you accomplish what you’d hoped to?” Jillian asked, tossing Wil’s shirt at her.