Miss Firecracker (8 page)

Then she applied the Sheetrock mud to the first hole. And the second. The
splat, push, scrape, splat, push, scrape
returned her to the part of herself she’d always felt confident in: her job. It’d probably only take two coats and some light sanding to repair the damage.

She’d just wiped off an excess blob, when she heard Blake’s footsteps stop behind her. She felt him studying her handiwork and she fought against bristling up.

Finally, he said, “That looks great, Willow. You definitely know your way around patching.” He leaned closer. “Did you use mesh tape to shore it up?”

“Nope. Just mud. It didn’t appear to be cracked.”

“You gonna do two coats?”

“Yeah. I figure this’ll be dry by the time the bar closes and I can put another coat on before I go home tonight.”

“What would you charge for a patch job like that?”

“Probably two hundred.”

“Then I’ll subtract that amount from your damages.”

“Even if I’m the one who caused them?”

“Yep.”

Was Blake so eager to be rid of her that he’d speed up her repayments?

Can you blame him?

After setting aside her trowel and the trough, she pushed to her feet. When she looked at Blake, he wore the oddest expression. He reached out and gently touched her face. Heat flowed through her.

But he merely wiped her cheek. “Got a little bit of Sheetrock mud right here.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

They stared at each other.

“That’s not all.”

“What?”

Blake let his gaze drop to her lips. “You’ve got something on your mouth.”

Her hand came up as if to wipe it away. “What?”

“Mine.” He pulled her close. The kiss was hot and hungry. And public. They were right in front of the windows.

Blake jammed his hands in the back pockets of her jeans and ground the lower half of her body into his.

He was hard. Really hard. Perfectly hard.

The kiss went on and on, from ravenous to sweet back to greedy. When they kissed like this, the world fell away.

Naturally the cowbell above the door clanked, wrecking the moment.

“Geez you two. Get a room.”

Blake reluctantly let go of her.

Willow composed herself and faced the customer.

Figured she knew him. Don Dreyfuss, who owned the International Harvester dealership. “Mr. D. What brings you into LeRoy’s on this fine afternoon?”

“The missus had to come into town to play Bunko. I thought I’d sneak in for a nip and a peek at the game before I head home.” He frowned at the blank TV screen. “What is wrong with you people? Why isn’t the Rockies game on?”

“Sorry. I forgot,” Blake said. “I had other things on my mind.”

Mr. D. sent Blake a sly look. “Well, I can see what kind of ‘things’ might’ve been distracting. I don’t much blame you.”

Blake grinned. “What’ll you have?”

“Michelob Ultra. Gotta watch my damn carbs. The wife says I’m getting pudgy.”

She let Blake handle the order while she picked up her tools and set them in the storeroom. She’d barely unscrambled her brain when Blake spun her around and pinned her against the wall.

“Talk to me.”

“What was that kiss about, Blake?”

“Didn’t you like it?”

“Of course I liked it. Did I act liked I didn’t?”

“No. But before…One minute you’re banging my brains out in your shower. The next you’re standing twenty feet away from me practically shouting to your ‘employee’ that we’re just friends. Then you don’t have an issue sucking my tonsils out of my throat in full view of anyone who’d happen to stroll by the bar. So, yeah, I’m a little confused.”

Join the club.

“What’s going on between us?”

“Do we have to put a name to it, Blake? Can’t we just…I don’t know, have a good time with each other while you’re here?”

“And you’re fine with us just havin’ a good time?”

It was cute how his cowboy accent became more pronounced when he was angry. “Yes. Aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna hafta be, aren’t I?”

What was that supposed to mean?

Before she could ask him, he ducked out the door.

B
lake dumped a
bucket of ice in the bin, a little harder than necessary.

Dammit. Didn’t it just figure?

Can’t we just have a good time while you’re here?

For the last couple years Blake had been that guy, searching for a good time with a woman who wasn’t looking for a permanent relationship. A woman who’d walk away with a smile.

He’d sworn that’s what appealed to him, even when he’d never quite found it.

But meeting Willow, the real Willow, not the drunken spitfire but the funny, honest, caring, and capable woman had turned him inside out. She was a woman who wanted to fit in as much as she wanted to set herself apart. She was a woman with spirit and loyalty. She was a woman who was tough as nails, yet as sweet as pie. She was a woman who owned her passionate nature without apology.

Yet, she was also a woman who was looking for a good time. A woman who wasn’t looking for a permanent relationship. A woman who’d walk away with a smile.

Didn’t it just figure he’d found what he thought he’d wanted…only to realize that wasn’t what he wanted at all?

Blake slammed the metal cooler lid and swore again.

Mr. D. blasted him with a stern look over the top of his beer bottle. “Son. That’s not helping your situation any.”

“What situation would that be, sir?”

“The fact you’re nuts about that little gal back there.” He lifted a hand, waving off Blake’s objection. “Don’t bother denying it.”

“I’m not.”

“That liplock sorta indicated to me she feels the same way about you.”

“Maybe she would if she didn’t believe I was just Good Time Charlie, the loafing bartender, about to skip outta town when my gig is done.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Then don’t you think you oughta be telling her that, not me?”

He snorted. “Like it’d matter.”

“It might. Then again, it might not.” Mr. D. finished his beer and shoved the empty bottle across the bar. “You met her dad yet?”

Blake shook his head.

“You will. If nothin’ else, that’ll cool your ardor for her right quick. Big Kenny Gregory is an ornery S.O.B., especially when it comes to his baby girl—or should I say, when it comes to men and his baby girl.”

“Great.”

“Between us?” Mr. D. leaned closer. “It about killed Big Kenny when Willow won the Miss Firecracker contest.”

“Why?”

“It proved that rough-around-the-edges Willow was also all woman. And trust me, the men in this town who wouldn’t have looked twice at Willow-the-toolbelt-wearing-carpenter? They started paying attention to Willow the beauty queen.”

Blake had the oddest urge to growl his displeasure at anyone paying attention to Willow but him. “Funny Willow didn’t mention that.”

“Can you blame her?”

“I guess not.”

Mr. D. tossed a five on the counter and stood. “Good luck, son, because I have a feeling you’re gonna need it.”

The joint was
hopping by the time Mandy clocked in. Willow lagged behind with drink orders. A few of the guys who worked for her decided to come in. They ribbed her endlessly about her new “job” but she wouldn’t give them the lowdown. As breezy and sarcastic as her responses were, Blake knew by her jerky, tense movements the situation bothered her.

He wasn’t surprised by her curt conduct toward him. Bothered by it, yes, but surprised by it, no. No one in the bar would’ve guessed they’d spent a good portion of the day naked together. In fact, Blake wondered if he’d dreamt it.

Mandy dropped her tray on the counter. “I need a pitcher of Bud, four cups and four shots of Jack.”

“A boilermaker party, huh?”

“How anyone can drink that crap is beyond me.” Mandy shuddered. “You a Jack fan?”

“Nope. Hate the stuff.”

“Good.” She jerked her chin toward Willow’s table in the back. “Looks like Willow got herself a fan club.”

Blake harrumphed.

“But if the cold stares they’re sending your way mean anything…damn, they don’t appear to be fans of yours. Did you cut one of them off or something?”

“Not yet.”

“Hmm. They jealous you got it goin’ on with her?”

When Blake didn’t acknowledge her guess, Mandy sighed.

“Look. I’m not blind and neither is anyone else. You two threw sparks off each other from the moment she strolled in here the other night.

“So?”

“So, pretending to ignore her when your eyes follow her everywhere just makes what’s going on between you two more obvious.”

He leaned in. “FYI, Mandy.
She’s
the one who’s ignoring me.
She’s
the one who doesn’t want her male buddies, her employees, to know she’s knockin’ boots with a lowly bartender.”

“Interesting. I don’t think the issue is so much that you’re a bartender as these guys are surprised that Willow is knocking boots with
any
guy. She’s just playing it cool.” When Blake placed her order on the tray, Mandy leaned over and rubbed her cleavage into his forearm. She nuzzled his ear, then leisurely kissed his cheek. She pulled back and smirked at him. “That oughta get her hot under the collar.”

Blake couldn’t help it, he grinned.

Willow spent an
hour imagining how crappy Mandy would look bald as a cue ball after she’d snatched every hair out of the man-stealing woman’s head.

As soon as Willow saw randy Mandy disappearing into the back, she followed her.

More like stomped after her.

She found Mandy smoking in the breakroom, her shoulders resting against the wall. She offered Willow a tired smile. “Hey, Will, how’s it going?”

“What are you doing?” Willow demanded.

“Taking a break.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Mandy lifted her eyebrows. “Maybe you oughta cue me in since I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about you flirting with Blake. Rubbing your boobs on him. Smiling. Whispering stuff. You even kissed him!”

“Does it bother you, sugar?”

Sugar
. As if. Willow was about as sweet as vinegar right about now. “Yes, it bothers me! You know that Blake and I are…”

“Are what?”

She gritted her teeth.

“Are you with him?”

Willow glared at her.

“Lemme tell you something. Either you’re with him, or you’re not. You can’t have it both ways. Blake is way too nice a guy to be your dirty little barroom secret.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. And Blake is too good a man to put up with that high school-ish bullshit, Will.” She granted Willow a once-over and French inhaled. “If you’re not woman enough to stake your claim on him…well, step aside for those of us who are.” Mandy stubbed out her cigarette and sauntered out.

As soon as Willow regained control of her temper, she realized Mandy was absolutely right. She returned out front with renewed purpose. Instead of checking her section, she walked behind the bar and stopped beside Blake.

He had a bottle of gin in one hand and the soda dispenser in the other, mixing the liquids in a lowball glass. “Something you need?” he asked, without looking up.

“Uh. Yeah.” She set her hand on his shoulder and rose to her tiptoes, putting her mouth next to his ear. “To say I’m sorry.”

Blake turned his head so their mouths were mere inches apart. “For what?”

“For acting like there’s nothing going on between us.”

“Is there something going on between us, Willow? Besides us havin’ a good time and enjoying each other?”

She faltered for a second, but she didn’t look away from his mocking eyes. “You know there is.”

“Yeah? Then prove it.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “You’re fast on your feet, remember? You’ll come up with something.” Then he sidestepped her and reached for a lime, finishing off the gin and tonic.

Shoot. That hadn’t gone like she’d planned. Willow felt dismissed. And she didn’t like it one bit.

Now you know how he feels.

True. But how was she supposed to prove it to him?

A sultry feminine laugh floated above the bar noise. Willow pinpointed the source: Mandy.