One Hot Summer (23 page)

She knelt before him and he had a moment's debate whether this was the direction he wanted to take their afternoon in. He'd wanted this picnic to be all about her pleasure, but the way she pressed lingering kisses to his stomach, her chin nudging his cock, destroyed his resistance.

She pulled the elastic band of his briefs down, freeing him. That act alone, the air hitting his bare flesh, was enough to rock him where he stood. He rolled his head back, his eyes closed, and concentrated on the feel of her hand stroking him.

At the first touch of her tongue, his breath left his body with a primordial grunt. He let his face fall forward and looked down the length of his body only to find that she was looking up at him. The way the sunlight and shadows hit her face, he could see the complicated hues of her eyes. Flecks of amber and black danced in the blue. Thick black lines rimmed her irises. Her eyes were so full of passion he almost forgot his name.

In that moment, staring into her eyes, he realized that she was, perhaps, this woman who'd crash-landed into his little town, one of the most complicated and fascinating souls he'd ever met. Making love to her was just as complicated and fascinating. Touching her, kissing and loving on her, charged him up with an undeniable electricity, even as the heavy sense of their connection smoothed out his rough edges.

This affair was going to change him.
She
was going to change him. He braced himself for a chaser of doom or fear to spoil the pure pleasure of it all, but it didn't come. She sank her mouth over his erection, taking him deep, and he was lost, body and soul.

 

Chapter Eleven

Wednesday was Remedy's favorite day of the workweek, a day of calm before the storms that rolled through her life every weekend. Thursday brides and their mothers would start lighting up her phone nonstop, anxious about last-minute details, and Fridays were burdened with a ticking-clock pressure and a to-do list that only seemed to get longer as the day wore on. But Wednesdays were Remedy's chance to have brainstorming conversations with future brides about their dream receptions, catch up on industry blogs, and peruse vendor catalogs at her leisure.

After a long morning meeting with Emily and Alex regarding that weekend's weddings—including two big productions with three-hundred-plus guests and two small events with simple ceremonies in the resort's wedding gazebos and reception dinners held in semiprivate rooms within the resort's main restaurant—Remedy was grabbing a breath of fresh air when Litzy sprinted by her in the opposite direction while pushing a rolling cart piled high with white tablecloths.

Remedy grabbed her sleeve as she passed. “Not so fast.”

Litzy ground to a halt, though her body practically vibrated with impatience. “Sorry. I'll slow down.”

“Rule number one in event planning: We never run, because we set the tone. No matter how dire the emergency, we're calm and in control. You never know if any resort guests or members of a bridal party are watching.”

Litzy was a good employee—not great, but she was slowly getting the hang of Remedy's way of doing things—but they'd been over Remedy's rules before and apparently this particular one hadn't sunk in yet.

“Yes. Got it.” Litzy seemed to be only half-listening. Her attention darted between Remedy and the end of the building. Remedy followed her gaze and saw the back bumper of a gray minivan.

Alarm bells sounding in her mind. Remedy was trying her best to trust Litzy—she truly was, because there was no logical reason to expect a repeat of the Zannity disaster—but it was obvious that Litzy was trying to hide something. Why was she pushing a rolling cart of white table linens out of the building? There were no special events at the resort that day. And what was up with that minivan? Remedy intended to find out.

“Good,” Remedy answered. “Now go forth and be cool. Nice and easy.”

Litzy shot another furtive glance toward the minivan. “Nice and easy. Got it.”

She walked with forced slow steps toward the end of the building. Remedy waited, watching until Litzy had disappeared from view. Remedy stealth walked to the edge of the building and peeked around the corner. Litzy and a Latina woman who looked about Remedy's age were unloading the tablecloths into the back of the minivan.

“Litzy, what's going on?” Remedy said in her calmest, most collected tone.

Litzy and her accomplice jumped and whirled around in a fruitless attempt to shield their nefarious activity behind their backs.

Litzy gestured to the other woman, whose expression redefined the term
poker face
. “We were just … moving some tablecloths.”

“I can see that. Moving them where, precisely?”

“The resort won't need these until Friday's wedding,” the other woman said.

So they weren't stealing, per se, but merely borrowing the linens for a day. Relief swept through Remedy. That she could handle. As long as Litzy wasn't sleeping with any of the grooms from the resort's upcoming weddings, Remedy could handle anything.

Remedy offered the other woman her hand. “I'm Remedy, the new special events manager. And you are?”

She eyed Remedy's hand, unimpressed. “Skye Martinez from Housekeeping. Maybe you've heard of my mother, Yessica, who is the head of housekeeping at Briscoe Ranch. As was her mother before her. Or maybe you know my father, Beto, who runs the maintenance department here and has been with the Briscoes for thirty years.”

In other words, her family's legacy at the resort was almost equal to that of the Briscoe family itself. Skye was no dummy, which was exactly why she'd name-dropped her parents. It was a tactic Remedy had often used to great effect in Los Angeles when the need arose.

For the record, Remedy was no dummy, either, and she would rather aid and abet an unsanctioned tablecloth loan than start a war between the event staff and the housekeeping staff during her first month on the job, so she smiled brightly at Skye. “Then it's especially nice to meet you. I'll just be on my way and let you two get back to whatever perfectly lawful activity you're currently engaging in.”

“We're not stealing,” Skye said.

Remedy eyed the minivan, her eyebrow raised in question.

Skye lifted her chin higher. “We're borrowing these for the evening. We'll have them back before dawn. Please, if you could just keep that to yourself.”

“I was planning on it,” Remedy said. “Is this a common practice that I'm not aware of? Does Alex know?”

Skye's stony expression cracked. “He wouldn't understand.”

Litzy clutched Remedy's arm. “Please don't tell him. He'd freak out. We'll never do this again; it's just—”

“I swear, I'm not going to tell anybody. Just have them back before anyone notices.” Remedy tipped her head toward the minivan. “Out of curiosity, though, what are you using them for? A family party?”

Litzy squirmed. “A wedding. In town.”

Good thing Remedy hadn't taken a drink from her water bottle, because she would've spewed it everywhere. “Uh, can you say ‘conflict of interest'?”

Skye shook her head. “It's for Albert Dorcchi's wedding. He grew up in Dulcet and left to join the army. He came home this week to tell his family that he's shipping out on deployment to the Middle East and to propose to his girlfriend Tabby.”

“She's not a cat.
Tabby'
s short for
Tabitha,
” Litzy blurted out.

Skye set a hand on Litzy's arm. “Anyway, Albert and Tabby decided to get married before he leaves. They were prepared to go to a justice of the peace, but his mother wants a wedding. So the whole town is coming together today to give them one. Believe me that these tablecloths are for a noble cause.”

“You had me at
deployment,
” Remedy said. Her dad had always devoted most of his charitable work to organizations that aided veterans, which meant she'd grown up visiting VA rehab centers with him, helping build houses for wounded vets, and sitting at VIP tables at charity balls next to the veterans who were attending as guests of honor. There were fewer causes nearer or dearer to her than those supporting soldiers.

Litzy just about melted, she was so relieved. “Oh, thank you, Remedy.”

“The wedding's tonight?”

Skye nodded. “Yes. At Great Redeemer Church. The reception will be in the fellowship hall. Like I said, we'll have the linens returned before anyone else notices they're gone.”

Remedy ran through her mental list of wedding musts. “Do Tabby and Albert have centerpieces? Flowers?”

Skye and Litzy exchanged befuddled looks. “We're not sure. We only volunteered to take care of the tablecloths and punch.”

Hmm.
Remedy would have to get details about the reception décor herself. White tablecloths alone did not a once-in-a-lifetime memory make. “What do you mean by
punch
?”

“For the reception,” Litzy said. “You know, a classic wedding punch.”

“I've never heard of that. I thought champagne was the classic wedding drink.” That and tequila shots, naturally.

“I don't think champagne is in their budget.” Skye enumerated on her fingers. “All you need for wedding punch is a quart of orange sherbet, lemon-lime soda, and pineapple juice.”

That sounded disgusting.

“Will you do it, Remedy? Will you keep our secret?” Litzy said. “Do it for the army. Do it for love.”

Oh boy.
“I'll like to do more than keep your secret, if you could use the extra hands. Let's get these linens in the minivan and get them over to the church.”

“You're coming with us?” Skye asked delicately.

“I'll follow you over, in case I need to run back here and grab something else for the wedding. If I'm going to be an accessory to your crime, then we might as well see if Albert and Tabby need anything else from the resort.”

“You're serious about this?” Litzy said.

“I really am. I can't think of anything I'd rather do today than give Albert and Tabby the best day of their lives.”

Great Redeemer was an imposing brick building set behind a long green lawn. The parking lot was already crowded with cars and trucks when Remedy pulled in behind Skye's minivan. A wall of smoke and yummy smells of barbecued meat wafted over her when she stepped out of her car.

Behind an impressive line of grills on the far end of the lot was an even more formidable line of strapping Texas men, Micah in the middle of them, his signature ball cap pulled low over his forehead, a tight charcoal gray T-shirt stretched over his hard body, and a pair of tongs in his hand.

Remedy's heart did a little jump. Before she'd moved to Texas, when she'd thought of the state her mind never took her to runaway trained elephants or communities pitching in to throw a last-minute wedding. It never took her to shady creeks or never-ending kisses on a champagne-soaked picnic blanket. It never led her to the likes of Micah Garrity.

He'd looked mighty fine on Sunday evening when he'd picked her up for dinner at an upscale bistro on the outskirts of San Antonio, dressed in a sports coat and with his hair slicked back and styled. But she preferred him like he was today—a down-home country boy manning a grill, a local hero right in the middle of the action in the town he'd sworn his life to protect.

After dinner on Sunday, they'd fallen into her bed with the familiarity of longtime lovers. He hadn't slept over, though. He might have if she'd asked him to, but he'd seemed restless to check in with the fire station. Which was fine. They both led busy lives, and neither was quite certain how to navigate the terrain of their relationship given the demanding nature of their jobs.

Today, he didn't notice her right away, so Remedy pitched in with Skye and Litzy to unload the tablecloths and carry them inside by hand.

Remedy was headed back to the minivan for a second load when Micah ambled her way. “Well, well, well. If it isn't California. What are you doing here?”

“I'm helping, same as you. After all, true love must prevail.” She didn't register the sarcasm she'd let slip into that phrase until it was too late.

Micah pressed his lips together, amused. “Is that a fact?”

“Oh, yes. That's the number-one rule of life. True love must prevail.” Damn it, it'd come out sarcastic again.

“Why do I get the impression you think of that sentiment as more of a corporate motto and not a rule of life?” he said.

“Why can't it be one and the same? When you're a wedding planner, true love is your business.”

He regarded her for a long minute, though she couldn't fathom what he was thinking; then he hooked his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the line of barbecue grills. “As much as I'd love to stand around and talk about true love, I'd better scoot. I've got meat to tend to.”

A half-dozen dirty replies popped into her head. “We are at a church, so I'm going to just let that one go.”

The desire smoldering in his expression took her right back to Sunday night and the look in his eyes when he'd raised his head from between her thighs to croon filthy compliments to her. A rowdy, reckless lust seized hold of her.

“Hey, Chief!” Chet called from behind one of the grills. “Need a second opinion on this brisket.”

Remedy tipped her chin in Chet's direction. “Duty calls. You'd better go tend to your meat.”

Micah's attention didn't waver from Remedy. His jaw tightened and his attention dropped to her lips. Then his eyes shifted, taking in the bustling activities all around them in the parking lot. “There are way too many people around right now.”

She knew exactly what he meant. Probably they shouldn't even be flirting like this, talking low and making
fuck me
eyes at each other in front of his firefighting crew and Litzy and Skye and a town's worth of people who would probably love a fresh piece of gossip about their fire chief and the new wedding planner in town.