Going Hard: Boys of Fall (3 page)

All of a sudden, he couldn’t breathe. His tie felt like a damn noose around his throat. “He was a decent man. He provided for his family.”

“That’s the only decent thing he did. He also got rough with Mama—”

“Thanks for lunch.” Rafe stood and tossed his Styrofoam container into the trash can. “Send my love and thanks to Mama too. I’ll be in to see her soon.”

Charli didn’t rise. She did tuck her container closed and tossed out her fork. “I wish you could see the guy I do when I look at you.”

“What I see is that you’re going to be late back to the feed store.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She grabbed her purse and stood, clutching the takeout container in her other hand. “I’m sorry if I pushed you. I just didn’t know who else I could ask. Who I could trust.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. God, she’d worn him down. Maybe with the concern in her eyes, or her assertions it was just a friendly thing, or maybe with her reminders of their father. He wasn’t anything like him, and not due to chance. He worked hard to always be in control. To never lose it, in case that let loose a torrent of feelings he wasn’t sure how to handle.

Only one woman challenged that desire. The one he couldn’t seem to resist.

“We’re friends,” he muttered. “Just friends.”

“Of course,” Charli said, nodding vigorously. “Just for a couple weeks, and then if you aren’t enjoying yourselves, well, then, just go back to hating on each other from the shadows.”

His sister’s grin made him crack his knuckles. “We don’t hate each other. And don’t talk about that
vibe
thing again, okay?”

“Not saying a word. Thank you.” She leaned across the desk and kissed his cheek. “You won’t regret it. I know you’ll both have a blast.”

But as the door closed behind Charli, Rafe wasn’t sure if she’d just set up Hollie to be protected—or him.

“
D
early beloved
.” Hollie hoisted her glass. “We are gathered here today. To get through this thing called life.”

“Wrong song, Hol,” Sadie called from the opposite end of the bar.

She looked down at her glass with the purple swirling alcohol in it—a Purple Rain, to be exact. It might have been her third one.

Maybe.

They went down a little too smooth. Tasted like Kool-Aid really. She’d seen the drink on her last perusal through Pinterest. She twisted the glass through the little puddle of condensation that had formed. She was drowning her sorrows, dammit. Who cared if she’d sung the wrong lyrics?

Her first foray into handcuffs and it had been a real cop.

How the hell had that happened?

The metal had bit into her wrists and hadn’t been nearly as fun as she’d fantasized about. Then again, that was the story of her life. Reality sucked, fantasy was way better. Her current trajectory of Project Sexcapades was taking a nosedive faster than a poorly designed paper airplane.

Talk about pathetic. Bull Junction should have been called Dud Junction. The entire night didn’t even warrant a real arrest. She’d been sober. Quite sober. As opposed to now, actually. She rested her chin on her stacked hands and looked at the inch of purple glory that was left in her sweaty glass.

It had been stupid to act like a drunken tart, but there had been way too many women in that little honky-tonk and all of the fun ones had been giggly Barbie rejects. Actually, more like Dolly rejects who believed with their whole hearts that they were Barbies.

How the hell did they get their hair so big? And she was pretty sure eighty-three percent of them had purposefully bought a shirt two sizes too small to show off their bodacious boobs.

Hollie looked down at her own pint-sized cups with
I have big books
emblazoned across the shirt from nipple to nipple. She barely needed a bra. And if said nipples weren’t so acutely sensitive, she’d probably skip lingerie up top anyway. Too bad a stiff breeze had the tips resembling pebbles.

Was this how low she was going to go? Bemoaning her tits in a bar that had exactly—she glanced around—thirteen people in it? Even Dud Junction had been more fun than this.

She slurped down the rest of her drink in misery. She lifted her glass. “Barista, another please.”

“I do believe you’ve had enough.”

“I believe she’s correct,” said a deep voice.

“Oh, come on.” Her voice was extra whiny, but she really didn’t care right then. Not when Mr. Cold Shower himself was breathing her air. “Wasn’t it bad enough that I was pseudo-arrested over the weekend? Can’t a girl have some fun in peace?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

She spun on her stool. “Oh, and what are you going to do? Lecture? Give me the furrowed brow of disappointment?” She pointed. “There it is.”

Said brow rose into a haughty arch.

She giggled. Haughty. Such a perfect word for him. Arrogantly superior and disdainful. Yep. Pretty much covered every little inch of him.

Well, except his lips. He had a handle on the kissing part. His lips were soft and smooth, so very different from the rest of him that was so rigid.

Her eyes strayed down his long, muscular body. What a waste. No one should look as fine as Rafe Martinez and be a dud in bed.

Maybe he was originally from Dud Junction himself.

Maybe she needed another Purple Rain.

She turned to Sadie and held up her glass. “I have a designated driver. May I have another?”

Sadie glanced at Rafe and got some sort of sign, evidently enough to make her hesitate before refilling her drink order.

Hollie growled. “I’m my own woman, you know. I don’t need this grandpa making decisions for me.”

“Grandpa?”

She pushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Yes, grandpa. Or even better, you’re Eeyore. All dour.” She leaned into his space and pushed her fingers into his cheeks. “Smile or something. Life isn’t that bad.”

Rafe stepped back. She kept tipping forward and he settled his hand on her hips to keep her on her stool. “Oh, really?” he asked. “Then why are you acting like this?”

Why the hell were the tingles back? Didn’t her body remember the complete miss the last time he’d gotten his hands on her? She sure did.

Hollie batted at his hands as she righted herself on the stool. He held them up in surrender, then leaned on the bar instead.

She huffed. “Because I’m bored. I have a very nice life. Perfect really, save for that whole no-fun thing. I can’t help it if I have to go a town over to try and find it. Besides. The people at that bar were lame.” Sadie came down with a beer for Rafe and a glorious glass of purple heaven for her. “Not your bar, Sadie.”

“Obviously.” She set the drink on a coaster and scooped up Hollie’s empty. She winked at Rafe and returned to the patrons at the other end of the bar.

Hollie squinted at her drink, then Rafe. “How come you don’t give me one of those smiles?”

“What smile?”

She rolled her eyes. “Never mind, it already disappeared. In fact, you probably didn’t even know you’d bent your lips up in the unfamiliar gesture. Seriously, do you even know the meaning of the word fun?”

“Fun—enjoyment, lighthearted pleasure.”

“Did you just give me the dictionary entry for fun?”

“Maybe.”

Hmm. Her nipples should definitely not be standing at attention. It was the librarian thing. Books were sexy and a man that held any form of knowledge immediately got a few points. Of course, this guy needed all the points he could get. Sinful knowledge held bonus points.

He was in the minus column there.

It seemed wrong somehow. The guy was sinful in all the best ways. Could wear a suit, looked good in jeans, his hair was fistable, his cheekbones were swoon-worthy, and his ass was bitable. All of those things should have added up to perfection, not…whatever their night had been.

Serviceable?

Her bra was serviceable. Sex should not be.

In fact, she wasn’t sure it even got to be called serviceable. Pure vanilla with no sprinkles or caramel, not even a cherry. Heck, she’d had more fun banishing her cherry as a teen. And that had sucked.

How’d her glass get empty again?

She stabbed at the ice chips, slurping the last of the purple concoction with the teensy straw.

“There’s nothing left in there, Hol.”

She blew raspberries at him. “I know that.”

“How about I take you home?”

She shut one eye to get him to come in a little clearer. “Didn’t we try that once?”

“Could you keep it down?”

“Why?” she whispered.

He leaned into her. “You realize that’s really not a whisper?”

She sucked in a breath at the heavy scent of leather and…citrus. No. Something like citrus. She didn’t remember that from the last time he got close to her.

His cheek brushed her jaw and she resisted the urge to lick him. Barely.

Wow. Where had that come from? He was one of the few men in town who had kept clean shaven as long as she could remember. Right now there was a shadow of scruff accentuating his sharp cheekbones and deliciously cut jaw.

Her gaze skimmed down his throat. A collarbone shouldn’t look that attractive under a business shirt, should it?

She resolutely turned toward the bar and her drink. What the hell were in these things? Hormones on the half shell? Aphrodisiacs Anonymous needed to take note.

Maybe she did need to go home.

She’d have to look up the ingredients again and see if there was a correlation to this particular liquor and scents. Maybe that’s why her body was going haywire.

Because it couldn’t be Rafe.

Been there, done that, refused the T-shirt.

“I should have another.”

“Not if you want to wake up for work. It’s already nine.”

She rolled her eyes. “What are you afraid you’re going to miss, a TV show?”

“No. I don’t really watch TV.”

“This is not shocking. That would require you actually relaxing enough to sit still.”

He lifted his beer to his lips and she couldn’t stop watching his throat work. A quarter of his beer was gone when he put the glass back down and licked his lips.

Please tell me I’m not drooling over this man.

Oh, please. She’d gotten him out of her system months ago, hadn’t she?

“Sitting still doesn’t seem like your M.O. either, Librarian.”

She shrugged. “Too true. I’d rather read.” But not lately. Nothing seemed to capture her attention. Not her favorite books, not the new ones that came in weekly, not even the reams of advanced reader copies she received to entice the library to buy.

Nada.

She fished out an ice cube and popped it into her mouth. And that was why she was at Pitchers mid-week. She was so damn antsy and restless. Flirting with a few of the ranch hands didn’t even hold her interest. Of course, she’d known most everyone in town since the beginning of time, so it wasn’t like there was any new blood to salivate over.

So why was she perking up because of Mr. Stick-in-the-Mud?

Obviously there was some sort of secret ingredient in the Purple Rain. She’d make sure she got the same drink when she went out tomorrow night. She was going to try the next town over in the opposite direction. Surely Tidal Junction had a better class of clientele.

So many Junctions around these parts. One of them had to deliver, right?

“You’re going to crack a tooth.”

“I crunch on ice all the time.”

“They say that’s a sign of frustration.”

“Well, you are standing next to me, killing my buzz.”

“Not that kind of frustration.”

She gave him a side eye. “Why do you care?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Aren’t we?” she parroted.

He sighed. “Did anyone tell you you’re cranky when you’re drunk?”

“It’s only because you’re in my airspace.” She jabbed her finger into his biceps. “You’re harshing my buzz.”

“You’re past buzzed. And on a school night, too.”

“I’m not in school anymore, thank you.” Other than continuing education classes, which she’d have to take forever. Thank God for doubling up when she was younger and had no social life.

As much as things change, so they stay the same.

“Thank God,” he muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

She waved to Sadie.

“You’re cut off, Lady Jane.”

“Aww, come on.”

“You’re weaving,” Rafe grumbled.

“You’re my DD. I don’t have to be a good girl. I’m so tired of being a good girl. Do you realize I’m turning twenty-five soon? Twenty-five.” When he winced, she rolled her eyes. “What?”

“That’s young.”

“Not in this town. Around here, people are preparing to pop out a prodigy by then, if not sooner. I’m not ready for that. I’m dying to live.” She leaned into Rafe. “Dying—wilting on the vine. I’m not ready to be table wine, Rafe.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She dropped her head on his shoulder. “I want to live a little first before I start taking care of anyone else. I don’t want to wake up next to some guy with hips yay wide from birthing out a dozen babies before I even turn thirty.”

“Considering that’s impossible, I think you’re safe.”

“Stop being literal. You know what I mean. I was born to be champagne.”

“I’m trying to follow your analogy, but I’m having a tough time. What’s with the wine and champagne thing?”

Sometimes her brain full of information made talking to people very difficult. She hated when they didn’t follow her train of thought. “Never mind.”

“No, I honestly want to know.”

“Vines that are cultivated for years, that truly live through cycles of beautiful growing seasons, become the perfect conduit for champagne. I’ve got no knowledge. No life. I’m barely table wine.”

His brow furrowed. “Your head is full of knowledge. Your trivia ability is unparalleled.”

She transferred her forehead to her arms on the bar. “You don’t get it.”

“What exactly do you want to do?”

“Have fun. Experience more than what I know. I’m just so tired of doing the same thing with my life. I get up at six, feed my cat, get ready for work, go to work, come home. Lather, rinse, repeat.”

“Just like the rest of us, babe.”

She lifted her head. “You’re old.”

“Thanks.”

Did he just call her babe? Best to just push that aside. She peered up at him. “Aren’t you thirty?”

“Twenty-nine,” he muttered.

“Same difference.”

“So, what, when you’re twenty-nine, it’s okay?”

“Sure, after I sow my wild oats. I’m not saying I never want to settle down and have a family. I just need to do some planting first.” She sighed. “Serious planting.”

“How many oats are we talking here?”

“More than the three that I’ve sown.”

His jaw dropped open a little. Kinda cute actually. He was always so serious. She’d put that face in the dictionary under gobsmacked.

“Three?”

“I know. Pathetic, right?”

His jaw tightened. “No.” He took a healthy swallow of his beer.

“Well, I’m a modern woman, and should know at least a quarter of the Kama Sutra before the year is out. That’s my goal. Intimately, that is. I’ve read the book, and seen most of them in video form. But you know, participation. That kind of thing.”

He choked and snapped the glass down on the bar. “Jesus, Hol.”

“What?”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Well, if I find an adventurous guy then I can have some fun and do these things.”

“Are you just going to keep going through them until you find one?”

She turned on her stool and propped her head on her hand. It was starting to feel a little heavy. “I’m pretty discerning. It’s not like I’m going to just hike my skirt for anyone. I want to put myself out there and let a guy know that I’m ready for some sexcapades.”

“Sexcapades?”

“Yeah. You know…experimentation.”

“I got it.”

She perused the room. “I’m thinking that I’m never going to find a guy that’s willing.” She popped another ice cube in her mouth and met his gaze. “Or able, for that matter.” She reached out and poked his chest. His very firm chest. She knew that chest was very impressive under there.