He's No Prince Charming (5 page)

“Okay,” Grady said with a shrug. “Maybe next time.”

“Sure,” Trace answered, even though they both knew he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to talk about his glory days or his accident, and he sure didn’t want to go trolling for women. No, he was content right here, spending quiet nights at the marina.

“A cookie,” he admitted with a crooked grin. “I’m not beyond stealing one just like Gil, but I can’t run as fast and you’d catch me and whup my ass. Can I have one . . . or three?”

“What?” Sierra frowned.

“Aren’t those your homemade chocolate chip cookies I smell?”

“Oh, shit! The cookies!”

Sierra picked up a pot holder, ran over to the oven, and yanked it open. The cookies were browner than she liked, but not ruined. She grabbed the cookie sheet and quickly pulled it from the oven, but in her haste she touched the metal pan with her fingertips. “Ouch! Damn!” she grumbled. She set the cookie sheet on the kitchen island with a solid clank and then glared at the pot holder as if it were the culprit.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she lied, feeling stupid. Her fingertips tingled and she longed to blow on them, but refrained. “I must have forgotten to set the timer when Gil ran off with my soup bone.”

“Here, you need ice on that,” Grady insisted, and opened the big side-by-side freezer. After retrieving some ice, he came over to her side. “Let me see.” Before she could protest, he took her hand and pressed the cold cubes to her tender fingers. “Better?”

Sierra swallowed hard and tried not to be affected by his nearness. “Yeah,” she answered gruffly. “It’s no big deal. Burned fingers go with the territory.” She shrugged while he held her hand in his and rubbed the ice back and forth. “I’ll live.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll feel better living without blisters.” Grady looked up from his task and grinned. “You know, for a minute there I thought you were gonna catch Gil and wrestle that bone right outta his mouth.”

“Yeah, there woulda been hell to pay,” she responded, trying to sound angry, but her breathless tone blew that all to hell.

“I don’t doubt it one bit,” he agreed, and his grin widened to a full-blown smile. His teeth were white and straight, unlike the ones of some of the local guys Sierra knew who dipped or smoked. “And I think Gil realized it.”

“He got me going up the hill. Guess I’m outta shape.”

He chuckled, as if recalling the mad chase. “Are you kiddin’? You were like greased lightning.” He frowned at her fingers, and then gently rubbed some more. He smelled of the outdoors and a hint of spicy aftershave and . . .
dear Lord
, did his eyes have to be such a vivid shade of green? Wavy blond hair that reminded Sierra of Paul Walker’s in
The Fast and the Furious
, curled at the nape of his neck, just begging a girl to run her fingers through it. “You were hell on wheels, that’s for sure.”

“You’re damned straight,” she responded, trying again to sound big and bad but failing miserably. Water from the melting ice ran down her hand and dripped onto the floor, but she didn’t care. It was a small price to pay for Grady’s undivided attention.

“I hope you don’t blister,” Grady commented, and continued to soothe her pink fingertips. “Nothin’ worse than a burn.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Sierra assured him, and had to hold back a shiver that had nothing to do with the ice. She knew he wasn’t affected by their close proximity the way she was, nor did she kid herself that he was flirting, which kind of stung, because the attraction seemed so one-sided. But she would take what she could get.

Sierra had witnessed firsthand the type of girl Grady went after—tall, blond, and busty. And she was the polar opposite. While she stayed toned and slender due to physical work and endless energy, she wished for womanly curves that turned male heads. She tamed her unruly dark curls in a ponytail, dressed in jeans and T-shirts, and wore very little makeup. In truth, she longed to be more feminine, but her mother had run off when she was just a child, leaving her daddy and three older, rough-and-tumble brothers to raise her. She had always been treated as one of the guys and didn’t know any other way to dress or act.

“There,” Grady said after the ice melted to a mere sliver. “That should do the trick,” he added hopefully, and then gently dried her hand with a dish towel. “Sorry to have caused you so much trouble, Sierra. I know you work real hard and don’t deserve this drama.” Grady’s usual cocky smile suddenly seemed tender, and when he reached over and unexpectedly ran a fingertip down her cheek, Sierra wanted to tilt her face into the palm of his hand and sigh. But she knew he was simply feeling guilty about Gil’s behavior and nothing more, so she took a step back before she did something silly that she would later regret.

“You’re just trying to get on my good side for some chocolate chip cookies,” she scoffed, and turned away before he could read the truth in her eyes. She rose up on tiptoe to retrieve some Ziploc bags and then busied herself with sliding several crispy cookies into the plastic bag. “They’re a little on the crunchy side,” she warned as she handed him the cookies. “Might need some cold milk for dippin’.”

“Thanks,” Grady said, “but I can tell ya, they won’t last till I get home. I’ll eat every last one while drivin’ in my truck.” He grinned. “And I promise to give Gil a what-for on the way home too.”

Sierra waved a dismissive hand at him. “Oh, don’t bother. I get riled up quick but get over things quick too. But you’d better guard those cookies. That dog of yours will eat anything. He ran off with a stalk of celery the other day!”

Grady laughed. “I think he just wants your attention. Can you blame him?”

Sierra opened her mouth at his comment but was so flustered by it that she didn’t know how to answer. But if Grady noticed her reaction, he chose to ignore it.

“See ya around,” he said, and turned toward the door, but then paused before leaving. “Hey, the offer still stands for that beer. I’ll be headin’ in to Dewey’s tonight after a power nap and a shower.” He held up his bag. “And thanks for the cookies.”

All Sierra could do was nod. After Grady left, she put her palms on the cool kitchen island and inhaled a deep breath. She suddenly pictured him in the shower with water sluicing down his body.

“Mercy,” she murmured, and then wondered whether she should head into town later and take him up on his offer. The hard part, she mused, would be seeing the local girls hang all over him. Grady had been a star point guard at Tall Rock High School, leading the hometown team to a state championship. Even though he didn’t go on to play college basketball, he was still considered somewhat of a hometown hero. Sierra had been two grades behind him in school but never missed a game, not that he would know it.

Sierra had been pretty much a loner in high school, never really finding her niche. It didn’t help her social life that she had worked in her daddy’s diner from the time she was able to fill salt shakers and sweep the floor. Because she hated waiting tables, she ended up in the kitchen instead and had learned her cooking skills alongside her father, until they were forced to close when they could no longer compete with the big restaurant chains that caused many of the mom-and-pop businesses to fold.

With a sigh, Sierra pushed away from the kitchen island and mumbled, “Better quit mooning over Grady Green and get my work done.” Feeling a little drained, she reached in the fridge for a Mountain Dew and popped the top. After a long swig, she felt better. Then she slipped a Kid Rock CD in the boom box for added inspiration. In no time, she had the rest of the cookies baked and spicy-hot chili simmering on the stove in a big pot.

While rubbing the small of her back, Sierra glanced at the digital clock on the microwave and wished it was later in the day. She winced when she remembered she was supposed to sweep out Dakota Dunn’s cabin and take her some supplies. “Well, hell’s bells.” Grumbling under her breath, she gathered up some linens and soap along with a few other basics and loaded them in the golf cart that she used when cleaning the cabins.

Even though Dakota’s car was still parked out front, no one answered her knock. But wanting to complete her task and head home, Sierra opened the front door with her master key.

“Hello?” she called out, but when she discovered that Dakota was sleeping, Sierra closed the bedroom door, thinking it must be nice to be able to sleep in this late. She decided to do a quick, quiet once-over and leave the supplies. While humming softly, she broom swept the floor and then lightly dusted the furniture. Since they didn’t offer daily maid service at the fishing camp Sierra didn’t have to clean on a regular basis, but even so she had the drill down to a science. And so her mind wandered, usually about what her menu was going to be or supplies she needed in town. But today visions of Grady filled her head.

As Sierra spruced up the bathroom, she wondered how it would feel to be in Grady’s arms and to kiss him. But after wiping Windex from the mirror, she paused to gaze at her reflection and shook her head slowly. “Lordy, I need help,” she whispered.

Wayward curls that had escaped her ponytail had started to frizz, and her dark eyebrows, she knew, were in need of plucking. She decided her mouth was one of her better features, and she shrugged, thinking that her nose was okay. Not too big or small. She put her fingertips to her high cheekbones but had no idea how to play them up. And while she knew that her eyes—vivid green flecked with gold—were unusual, they were her best feature. But makeup and fashion left her totally clueless. Her few experiments with eye shadow had left her looking as if she should be standing on a street corner, and so she had quickly given up.

“Oh, well,” she mumbled, and dropped her gaze from her reflection to the sink and finished up. After placing a small bar of soap in the dish, she leaned over to put a fresh roll of toilet paper in the holder when a high-pitched “Ohmigod!” startled her from her thoughts.

Sierra stood upright so fast that she lost her balance and grabbed for the shower curtain, which came loose. She landed with a painful thump in the bathtub. Groaning, she struggled to free herself from the clear plastic decorated with fish, but had somehow become entangled in it.

“Ohmigod!” Dakota yelped. “Are you hurt?”

“How the hell do I know?” Sierra looked up through the plastic and saw a blurry but clearly startled Dakota with her hand to her mouth. “Well, don’t just stand there! Give me a doggone hand!”

“Oh! Okay.” She started to bend over, but then paused. “Hey, just who are you anyway?”

“The damned maid service for your ass!” Sierra grumbled, sounding muffled behind the swimming fish. Then she reluctantly remembered that Dakota was her boss. “I mean for
you
. Hey, come on and help, would ya?”

Dakota reached over but tripped over the cleaning-supply caddy and stumbled. Sierra’s eyes widened when Dakota reached for something—anything—to break her fall, and yelled as Dakota turned on the coldwater nozzle before tumbling into the tub.

“Holy crap, are you trying to kill me?” Sierra grunted after taking an elbow to the gut.

“Sorry! God that water is freezing!” she sputtered.

“Get off!”

“I’m trying! It’s slippery!” Dakota yelled as the cold water pelted them. “The tub is filling up. Unplug the drain! I’m gonna drown!”

“You’re not gonna drown!” Sierra shouted, and reached for the soap holder to hoist herself up. “Just stop squirming and calm down!”

“Easy for you to say. Whatever you do, turn the doggone water off!”

“Hey, Trace, you got any cold beer in your fridge, buddy?”

“Isn’t it kind of early?”

Grady laughed. “It’s five o’ clock somewhere.”

Trace hesitated, thinking he had already experienced more conversation and interaction than he wanted for one day, but then nodded. “Maybe we can toss back a couple later on,” he reluctantly agreed. If Grady was put off by his short answer and lack of enthusiasm, it didn’t faze him.

“Cool—I’m on it,” Grady said, and slapped Trace on the back. “Been a long-ass week, and I’m ready to cut loose. How ’bout you?”

“Thought you were going into town later on to cut loose?” Trace asked, but was saved from once again telling his young friend that his partying days were a thing of the past when another high-pitched scream followed by a lower-pitched curse came loud and clear from the small side window.

“That cussin’ sounded like Sierra,” Grady commented with a frown.

“Yeah, there’s her golf cart,” Trace commented while shading his eyes in the direction of Dakota’s cabin.

“Wonder what the hell’s goin’ on?”

When they heard another scream, this time higher pitched and seeming to echo in the trees, Trace said, “We’d better go check it out.”

Grady nodded. “Yeah.”

Trace knocked on the front door, but he and Grady didn’t wait for a response and quickly entered the cabin. They followed the sounds of the commotion coming from the hallway and paused at the closed bathroom door. Trace raised his hand to knock, but his fist paused in midair when Dakota said, “Move to the left. Dear God, I’m soaking wet!”

“I’m trying, but it’s damned slippery and my hand is stuck,” Sierra answered.

“Higher! Left!” Dakota said, and then she groaned. “You were so close!”

Trace turned to Grady, raised his eyebrows and mouthed,
What the hell?

Grady stared back at Trace with wide eyes and shook his head. Grady and Trace turned their attention to the closed door and strained their eyes, as if hoping for X-ray vision.

“Right there?” Sierra asked. “Oh yes, I feel it too.”

“Now wrap your fingers around it. Yeah, you’re doing it! Whatever you do, don’t stop! You’ve almost got it!”

Trace blinked and Grady gulped.
I hear water. Are they in the shower?
Grady mouthed.

Trace shrugged and tried not to think about the image that came to mind.

“Arch your back. Yes! Right there!” Dakota yelled enthusiastically, then she groaned. “Ugh, it’s no use!”

Trace elbowed Grady and mouthed,
We should go
. He jammed his thumb over his shoulder.

“Not on your life,” Grady whispered fervently, and cocked his ear toward the door.

After a thump and a muffled curse, Sierra said, “Maybe we can get the guys to help. Damn, I’m starting to shiver too.”

Trace turned to Grady and whispered, “Help?”

“I’m willin’,” Grady offered with a grin, and reached for the doorknob, but Trace stopped him with a sharp shake of his head.

“Are you crazy?” he whispered, and pulled Grady’s hand back.

“No, man, but you must be! I’ve dreamed of something like this.” He lifted his hands skyward. “Thank you, God!”

“It’s hard to get my hand down this wet denim. Oh, damn, the battery’s dead.”

Dakota groaned. “We’re going to have to yell for help.”

“This sucks,” Sierra grumbled.

“Okay, on the count of three, we’re going to yell
help
at the top of our lungs.”

Trace looked at Grady and whispered, “What are we gonna do?”

Grady grinned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m able-bodied and willin’.”

Trace rolled his eyes and thought to himself that Dakota Dunn was going to turn his orderly life upside down.

“Okay,” Dakota began, “one, two,
three
!”

“Hel—” she began, and Trace and Grady burst through the door.

“That was quick!” Sierra said with narrowed eyes.

“What the hell?” Grady murmured from where he stood in the small confines of the bathroom directly behind Trace.

“Girls, what’s going on?” Trace asked when he got an eyeful of sopping wet Sierra straddling Dakota. The shower curtain was twisted around them like a candy wrapper, with the rod just below Dakota’s chin.

“Holy shit,” Grady said, and got an elbow from Trace.

“We had a little mishap,” Sierra grumbled, as if that explained the strange sight. “Would you two quit your gawkin’ and give us a hand, for pity’s sake?”

Trace took a step closer, wondering where to start.
Wet women wrapped in plastic . . . hmmm.
“Yeah, but how did you two get all tangled up like this?” He wanted to know, and glanced down at Dakota.

Her cheeks flushed a firecracker red and she said, “It was an accident.”

“But—”

“Trace!” Sierra grumbled. “Ask questions later, will ya? We got us a situation here.”

“You sure do,” Grady commented with a sense of wonder but a tinge of disappointment in his tone. “Not exactly what we tho—” he began, but got an elbow to the gut and grunted. “Damn, that’s gonna leave a mark,” he complained while rubbing his midsection. “Okay, Trace, where do we begin?”

Trace rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Sierra, can’t you just stand up?”

“Right,” she said testily. “I’m just doin’ this for shits and giggles. My leg is trapped. Sorry there wasn’t any hanky-panky goin’ on, boys.”

“We didn’t think anything of the sort,” Trace said, and tossed Grady a look of warning.

“Course not,” Grady said in a mock-serious tone, and then arched backward to avoid another shot to the ribs.

“Right,” Sierra grumbled.

“Grady, you grab Sierra, and I’ll try to slide Dakota out of the tub.”

Grady nodded. “Gotcha.” He wedged himself between the toilet and the tub and then slid his hands beneath Sierra’s armpits.

Trace pressed his back to the tile wall and bent his knees until he could lean over, and slid his hands behind her shoulder blades. “Damn, you’re cold.”

“Ya think?”

When she shivered, he felt the need to get her out of the cold water quickly, and looked up at Grady. “Okay, ready, Sierra?”

“Yep.”

“Here goes, girls,” Grady warned, and hefted Sierra upward. But when nothing much happened, he jerked a little harder.

The shower curtain made a suction sound and then suddenly unwrapped. Sierra popped free from the wet plastic so fast that Grady stumbled backward and hit the wall with a thud while still holding on to her.

Dakota thrashed in the cold water. She finally calmed when Trace yelled, “Hold still!” He grumbled and shot her a glare, but it was difficult to stay angry as she stood up, shivering, in her T-shirt. He inhaled a deep breath and tried not to notice how the wet cotton outlined her lacy bra, but he failed miserably and had to avert his gaze as he offered his hand to assist her out of the tub.

When she shivered again, he had the urge to wrap her in his embrace and warm her up. He had to wonder what kind of spell she had cast over him.
Damn!
“Here,” he said gruffly, and tossed her a towel.

“Th-th-thank you,” she said through chattering teeth, even though the towel hit her in the face.

“I’ve had champion bulls give me less trouble than you.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Save it,” he said rather curtly, and turned away. “Now that whatever the hell crisis this was seems to be over, I’m heading back to work.”

“Hey,” Grady said cheerfully, and dropped his arms from around Sierra. “How ’bout we all head over and warm up in your hot tub? “

Trace shot Grady a look that should have shut him up, but Grady just grinned.

“These girls are freezin’, and I don’t know ’bout you, but I gotta know the story behind all this. So whaddya say, Trace?”

No!
the sane part of his brain shouted, but when Sierra and Dakota looked at him with wide, hopeful eyes and shivering bodies, “Okay, but for just a little while,” came out of his mouth instead. He shrugged. “I’ve still got work to accomplish,” he added, not wanting them to think this was something he really wanted to do. He didn’t socialize, and they needed to know it. He was merely being nice. No, not nice. He didn’t do nice. Accommodating.

“A hot tub!” Dakota’s smile did more damage to his gut than being rammed by the shower curtain rod. “Oh, heaven!” she said with a long sigh followed by a shiver. “Thank you!” she gushed and clapped her wet hands together.

When Dakota looked as if she might hug Trace, he took a giant step away from her and almost tripped over the supply caddy. The bathroom was too damned small for four people, he decided, and backed out through the doorway. “I’m heading over to the cabin,” he said quickly, and then hurried out the door.

Dakota scrunched her nose at Trace’s back. “Well, he could be a little less testy about the whole thing,” she muttered, but then noticed that his limp looked a bit more pronounced as he walked away, and felt a sharp pang of sympathy.

Sierra shrugged. “It’s just his way. He’s been through some major stuff,” she said a little defensively.

Grady angled his head at Sierra. “Yeah, I get that, but Trace needs to loosen up. Get rid of that chip on his shoulder. Seems like the man hates the world.”

Sierra pushed away from the wall and shook her wet head at Grady. “Don’t judge when you haven’t walked in someone’s shoes.”

“I’m not judging him, Sierra. Damn, girl, you need to lighten up too. You coming over for a soak in the hot tub?”

“I’ve still got work to do.” Dakota noticed that Sierra’s cheeks turned pink and she had to hold back a grin. “Plus, I don’t have a swimsuit.”

“No problem. Swimsuits are optional,” Grady said with an arch of one eyebrow.

Sierra’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of dusky rose. “Right, so will
you
be wearin’ one?” Sierra shot back.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Grady answered with a wink.

“Sierra,” Dakota said, “I have a whole slew of swimsuits. We just have to find what box they’re in. We seem to be close enough in size.”

“I should get back to work,” she said with a glance at Dakota, but then shivered.

“I’m calling an executive meeting together at Trace’s hot tub,” Dakota announced with a grin.

“I’m likin’ our new boss.” Grady gave Sierra a nudge as he squeezed past her to the doorway, but then turned around. “Come on over and get warmed up.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Suit yourself,” he said. “Or then again, leave the suit off,” he joked. But then he added, “Ya know, it’s not often we can talk Trace into hanging out with us. Sierra, he needs the company whether he wants to admit it or not.”

Dakota watched Sierra’s expression soften and knew that Grady had found her weakness. “We’ll be over in a few minutes,” Dakota answered for them both. “Have the hot tub ready and waiting.”

“Gotcha!” Grady said with a good-natured grin and then turned to leave.

After Grady was out of the room, Sierra inhaled a deep breath and said, “Just who do you think you are answering for?” She put her hands on her hips and stared at Dakota.

“Oh, come on. You’re into Grady. Admit it.”

“I admit no such thing!”

“Then you’re lying to yourself. This is your opportunity.”

“My opportunity for what?”

“Flirting with him, for goodness’ sake!” She took Sierra by the hand. “In a hot tub! Come on. Let’s find you a sexy swimsuit.”

Sierra’s eyes rounded and she tugged back. “No way, Dakota! I don’t do sexy. They all think of me as one of the guys around here, Grady included.” She shook her head. “Don’t you get it? I don’t have a sexy bone in my damned body.”

Dakota dropped her hand and glumly admitted, “Me neither.” While averting her gaze, she squeezed excess water from her hair and into the tub.

“What?” Sierra sputtered and shoved Dakota’s shoulder. “You gotta be kiddin’ me. Look at you! And weren’t you famous or somethin’?”

“Yeah, right. That’s why you have to
ask me
that question.” Dakota rolled her eyes and motioned for Sierra to follow her. “After winning the Miss Teen beauty pageant, I was the princess of pop for a little while, with a wholesome, girl-next-door reputation. I had some hit records and made a lot of money in a short period of time, and then”—she paused and snapped her fingers—“poof, it was all gone in a flash.”

Dakota kept talking as she looked through some boxes for swimsuits. She shook her head when she found a stack of old teen magazines. “Here,” she said, and slid the box toward Sierra. “That was me. And no comments on the hair, please.”

Sierra picked up a magazine. “Wow, you were on the cover! How cool is that? So were you like Miley Cyrus?”

Dakota shook her head. “I never got that big. You don’t remember me? You’re younger, but you would have been the demographic we were aiming for.”

A shadow of sadness seemed to pass over Sierra’s face, but then she shrugged. “I wasn’t much into girlie things,” she answered, but Dakota sensed there might be more to it than that. “So, do you miss bein’ famous?”