Rescued (A McKenzie Ridge Novel Book 1) (6 page)

Everly jumped in, tired of waiting for the good stuff, wishing she had popcorn for this one. She was rather enjoying the site of Sam squirming, a sign that this really was something and not the ‘nothing’ Sam claimed. “Ya, Sam, it was a
coincidence
, so spill it. I’m currently living vicariously through you. My love life is null and void, so you and a couple of racy books are all I have to feel scandaliiized!”

“Ev, I don’t have a
love
life! I don’t date, you know that. I don’t have time or the desire for it, and men are just…they are just more trouble than they are worth. The only thing scandalous about this is the flock of hens turning nothing into something,” Sam defended.

“Well, if hot and heavy neckin’ in a parkin’ lot at the park, is not datin’ and a non-love life, things have changed since I was of age, girls,” rebutted Gran, and she was about to drop the final bomb that should get Sam singing like a canary, Granny style. “Sounds like it was pretty steamy, left you speechless, and all.”

“Wait, how did you know there was a date, and the whole speechless thing?” Sam was flustered, damn this small town and its nosey geriatric mafia. “Where exactly was Carol watching me from, Gran?”

“Well honey, you parked right next to her! She was in the car, fixin’ to leave when the two of you walked up. She felt it rude to interrupt by starting up her car.” As if flabbergasted by the idea of minding one’s business by starting their car to leave, Granny may as well have just said ‘duh.’

“Right, rude, more so than sitting in a car listening in. Let me guess, you were on the phone the whole time?”

“Well honey, I just told you that she had called to…“

“Right, right, tell you about the new baby. Got it.” Sam planted her face firmly in her hands before resting it on the table. “How embarrassing!”

“This is hilarious, Sam! I bet half the old ladies in this town are getting steamy windows talking about it! This is awesome, epically awesome, Sam!” Everly could hardly catch her breath, laughing at her sister-friend and all her embarrassing shame. Not that she had anything to be ashamed of, but she was happy to let her think so, the show was just getting good. “Way to give the geriatrics something to look forward to!”

“Hey now, those old ladies are my friends, missy, and they are just looking out for our Sam. That Dawson is a dreamboat, hubba, hubba! He’s the one they hope gets called in if one of their pacemakers should fail and they need a little mouth to mouth.” Another slam dunk from Granny, earning her more eye rolling and pink cheeks from Sam, and cookie crumbs shooting through Everly’s teeth as she laughed out loud.

“Oh geez, thanks for the visual, Gran. Sam, you need to warn your dream boat—sounds like there is a conspiracy over at the senior center to trap the guy into some covert, undercover naughty! Poor guy will be on a ‘date’ and not even know it!”

“I’m glad you find this so funny, Everly. Look, I appreciate the concern or support, whatever it is, but this is just a friendly, friends, friend thing. Nothing more, nothing less. We grab breakfast here and there, share some interests, it’s like the male version of you, Evie!”

“Last I checked, you and I never swapped spit or did heavy petting body checks on each other in public places!”

“EVERLY! Okay, I am done talking about this. I can’t even look at you right now, after that, eww. We are just having dinner, as FRIENDS, no big deal.”

“Okay honey, friends it is.” Granny chimed in. “Now finish that plate of snicker doodles before they find my ass. At my age you don’t even have to eat them for that to happen and I need to keep this thing in shape so I can find my own neckin’ partner.”

“Gran!” Sam and Everly said in unison, completely shocked by Gran’s need for lovin’.

“What?!? I ain’t dead yet! I may be old, buy I’m still a lady that needs…“

“Whoa! Got it Gran!” Everly cut her off before it went from awkward to needing therapy.

“I’ll stick to tea. I don’t need the sugar or coffee keeping me up tonight. I went and left the door unlocked today. I don’t get it, I could have sworn I locked it. I’ve left the lights, TVs, and even the water on too, lately.”

“You don’t think someone is over there meddlin’, do ya?” Gran asked ready to grab her gun and sleep over.

“No, Gran, nothing that dramatic ever happens in McKenzie Ridge. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“You don’t suppose that mama of yours has blowin’ back through do ya? Somethin’ she might do if she’s in between husbands.” Lou didn’t trust Bette Morrison any more than she’d trust a hungry rabbit in her garden. Bette was as reliable as a bucket with a hole in it. She let Sam down more times than Granny cared to count.

“No, I haven’t heard from her in a while. She was blissfully happy with what’s his name last we spoke. Sneaky isn’t her style, her presence floods in long before her arrival, like a hurricane!”

There was a long pause before anyone spoke. Grinning ear to ear with a whimsy, daydream look in her eyes, Sam finally declared, “I will admit, Dawson does have me a bit distracted, we may only be friends, but I am
not
blind.”

Evie and Granny look at each other grinning. Granny winks, “Friends my ass, honey.”

Dawson was nervous, and he was never nervous, especially when it came to women…ever. No, he seeped self-assurance, both bold and brash, the epitome of confidence. So why he felt this unfamiliar twinge of anxiety and nerves was beyond him. He was getting exactly what he wanted, a date with Sam, so why the sweat? He was screwed, she had him completely by the balls, and he knew it—she probably did too.

Anxious emotions aside, he was open to this new territory, as long as he got to explore it with Sam. She was intriguing and always on his mind, he found himself wondering what she would think or do in the various situations he found himself in. Ordering a milkshake, he wondered what kind Sam would like. Going for a run, he wondered if Sam likes to run. Paint the walls Ecru or Toasted Wheat, wood or tile floors, what would Sam do. Although their pasts were different, he sensed a likeness between them, an interesting parallel that had him hooked.

He planned an evening at the rodeo since it was in town, followed by drinks and maybe a little dancing at The Pump House. The rest of the evening would be left to fate, but he hoped it lasted until morning. Looking fine in his tight wrangler jeans that hugged all the right places, putting his best assets on display, he had the hot cowboy look down. Black Stetson, white button up, rolled sleeves, and boots; he was the inspiration for every girl’s erotic cowboy dream. Dawson was the kind of man who made a woman swoon simply by walking by. In those jeans he made them cross their legs extra tight to avoid an embarrassing outburst. He was delicious.

He stopped at Blooming Grounds to grab a bunch of flowers. He wasn’t sure if flowers were the key to Sam’s heart, but he hadn’t met a woman who hated flowers, so he had nothing to lose. Roses were sexy, like Sam, but they were also a lot of other things neither of them were ready for. Thoughtful and kind, gentlemanly, that is what he was going for tonight, roses would come later, dozens upon dozens of roses, should things go as he wanted them to. He searched through the array of flowers when he landed on the perfect bouquet, daisies. They were simple, cute, understated, and perfectly Sam.

***

Sam answered the door looking like every cowboy’s wet dream, her slate blue eyes captivating, and her long dark tresses falling in soft curls around her shoulders. She wore a red button up blouse, sans sleeves, that tied at the waist, showing just enough of her flat tan stomach to keep his eyes traveling south. His pants were getting tighter as he gazed over her perfectly fitted jean skirt that hugged her ass and left her perfectly shaped thighs exposed. Even the well-worn cowboy boots were making him hot and painfully bothered.

He handed her the daisies, and stuttered, “Th-these are for me. From me! I mean, these are for you.”

Man alive, she had him between a rock and hard place, literally, and that outfit had him already picturing it lying around her sexy boots. He was a goner, clearly he could no longer speak coherently. He found her stunning, even in her scrubs, but tonight she took his breath away, she was a sexy little piece of heaven, standing before him, thank you, Jesus.

Sam drank in the tall dark and handsome cowboy in front of her. He looked so good, it was almost cliché. She felt her face heat, her palms sweat, and her womanhood awaken at the sound of the alarm her most private parts were sounding. She was screwed, or would be shortly, if the night ended the way she had been daydreaming about the past 24 hours, thanks to that kiss. Dawson Tayler had her in the palm of his hand and she hoped he knew it as much as she hoped he didn’t. He was as much dangerous in that outfit as he was sexy, and she had no idea how she would make it through the night with her clothes still on.

She decided in that moment that the question she had been pondering some time now was obvious, she wasn’t looking for love, but a romp in the sack with this bucking bull, and it was going to happen. The cowboy look granted her clarity and delivered the answers to everything that she had been questioning about Dawson Tayler. She needed to get sweaty with this man, get him out of her system, in a down and dirty, naked kind of sweat, and she wasn’t ashamed at all.

“Daisies are my favorite, that was very sweaty. Sweet! Man, it’s hot today, uh, thank you.”

Granny Lou walked up to say hello to Dawson, and of course check out his ass in those jeans, so she would have something to report back to the geriatric mafia, and because she wasn’t dead yet, as she would say. She commented on the lovely flowers, offering to take them in and put them in water so they could get on their way. She promised to lock up after she grabbed a certain bag she was there to pick up in the first place.

“Now you two have a good time tonight, I won’t expect to see ya till morning. Ride’em cowboy, yee-haw!” She gave them a wink and Sam a quick elbow bump to the ribs, giggling all the way inside. “Friends my ass.”

***

Ending just short of the curve of her ass, he couldn’t help but notice the rise of her skirt, that led to his own rise, as he helped her into his truck, thank God for tall trucks and short skirts. He wished he had a taller truck. This was going to be the longest, stiffest, ten-minute drive of his life. She was going to be his undoing, Lord, have mercy, he couldn’t wait.

Sam was delightfully aware of the effect she was having on Dawson, by the sweat gathering at his brow, the fact that he wouldn’t even look her way the entire drive, and the fact that he kept clearing his throat, but didn’t say a word. She was also painfully aware of what a turn on it was, knowing what she was doing to him. Tonight would be full of sitting sideways and crossed legs. Oh yes, turned on cowboy Dawson was much hotter than everyday hot Dawson. Sweet Jesus, this was the best idea she’d had in a very long time. She would pray for her sins later.

The quick drive allowed him to gather his thoughts and get his raging teenage boy like hormones under control. In a matter of minutes, a short skirt clad ass managed to set him back a couple of decades, to teenage hormone hell, where the word boob was enough to embarrass him, in a not so becoming way. What was it with this woman? How did she manage to get under his skin after all this time? What was different about tonight and why hadn’t he thought of this sooner?

***

Regaining his composure, he held her hand helping her out of the truck and never let it go. He was pushing her boundaries and she was beginning to like it, a lot. Sam managed to throw out her independent,
I don’t need a man,
tendencies without a single inner feminist protest. She enjoyed Dawson leading the way, taking charge, taking care of her, it was comfortable, she felt nurtured and cared for, and it was a fucking turn on. His alpha swagger was sexy and hot, she’d follow it anywhere. The eyes of every single woman they passed, and some not so single woman, tracked him everywhere they went, followed by deep throaty “ohs” and breathy sighs, she didn’t blame them at all, he was smoldering with those emerald eyes, unshaven face, and a panty melting body that was perfectly traced in his well fitted ensemble. The only thing that came to mind, besides the fact he was
hers,
was hands off, bitches.

They ate barbeque, what else was there at a rodeo, anything else would be sacrilege, and drank local brews in between events. They watched tie-down roping and bull riding, which oddly took both of their minds to dirty places full of rope tying and
riding
of the naked sexy kind. Thank God for the kids barrel racing on stick ponies and the children’s finale, mutton bustin’, to chill the inappropriate ideas like a cold ass shower. He held her close all evening, either with his arm around her or hand in hand, making a statement to anyone wondering, he was with
his
girl, it was a glorious night.

***

The main events were over for the night and the rowdy rodeo party scene was commencing, so they went to The Pump House for a drink before calling it a night. An old time gas station, converted to roadhouse style bar, with booze, pool, dancing, and the best food in town. It was a safe place and it would be packed. There was little to do in such a small town, but neither wanted the night to end just yet, in fact it was really just beginning.

It wasn’t lost on Sam that Dawson was a gentleman at every turn, and not in a superficial attempt at anything. He was genuine, kind and real, his mannerisms were instinctive. As alpha as he was, he was equally as gentle—he held the door for her, pulled out her chair, even went for their drinks, and served her. He was charming the pants off of her, literally, and she knew it was for no reason other than that was just who he was.

The conversation was light in the beginning, as it had been most of the day, mostly about rodeo, the beautiful weather, and even work. He couldn’t take his eyes off hers, or keep his hands to himself. If he wasn’t holding her hand, he had his hand at the small of her back. He had his arm over her shoulder by the nights end, and she was leaning into him, a perfect fit, as if he was built for her, and vice versa.

He could feel those walls of hers crumbling, little by little, and he was pleased by that. The message they were sending to everyone they ran into was that they were indeed,
dating
, and Sam seemed completely at ease with that unspoken message. He was pleased by what that implied because in a matter of days, his decade long rules all had been broken, and he wasn’t planning to reinstate a single one.

She was completely entranced by this man. His actions went beyond just charm, he was caring, doting even, but in a non-suffocating way. He was a God to look at, a man’s man with his confident swagger and completely gentle while seductive with his touch. She drank him in and couldn’t seem to get enough. He knew how to treat a woman, and she couldn’t wait to see how he handled one in bed, or wherever they ended up next. Every time she had those kinky thoughts, her body hummed and heated all over. She was beginning to crave him.

***

The Pump House was packed, everyone they knew was there, but they still managed to find a semi private two-top booth in the corner. Dawson grabbed a couple of beers, while she grabbed the table and watched him work his way through the room. He was such a force, he commanded the room in such a way that demanded respect, appreciation, and no one minded paying it, it seemed. It was turning into the kind of night she could get used to, this
one night, get him out of my system
idea, might just become several nights; her new drug, one she was already addicted to and she hadn’t even felt the high yet.

This was the first time they went together, alone. The Pump House was safe, for both of them. Out in the open, very public, and not too intimate…thank God. They knew everyone there, which was a nice distraction from the thoughts crossing both of their minds. Keep it clean, that was Dawson’s mantra all night. Anytime his gaze drifted below her chin, a hoot or holler from the pool tables would pull his mind from the gutter, reminding him they weren’t alone. Sam was mesmerizing, he found himself wanting to know more, not just
see
more.

No raw emotions, just friendship, and whatever seductive, carnal, benefits that came with it. She could handle that. She needed that, badly, he had her wound up so tight, she was going to erupt in a most embarrassing way, simply by watching the man. She was letting her guard down, slowly, letting him in, and as much as she appreciated him beyond the physical, she had to keep her wits about her, and not let her heart get involved. But that was becoming quite the task, as her heart was leading the way.

He returned with two beers, a couple glasses of water, and a basket of peanuts, he had thought of everything. They got part way through their mugs and some safe insignificant chatter, when the music got louder and the crowd got larger. They took to the floor, where very little was spoken, but a lot was said.

The Pump House catered to every genre of music, tonight was upbeat and energetic, crossing the decades with their song and dance. The crowd cheered as the theme seemed to lean more country, likely due to the rodeo and all its cowboys in town. They enjoyed themselves, it was fun and comfortable and maybe a little sexy, each impressed with what the other brought to the evening, and left on the dance floor. They gave it their all and worked it to a few line dances, a two step, and even a swing.

They had danced a hundred times at The Pump House, it was a common gathering place amongst their circle of friends, but tonight was different. They each saw the other in a different light, each wanting to impress the other, and both succeeding. There was something unintentionally seductive about dancing, at least tonight for these two, they couldn’t keep their eyes or hands off each other.

Hot, sweating, and exhausted, Dawson was headed to the table when he noticed she had stayed on the dance floor. She was looking right at him, intentions made clear with just a look, her eyes were heavy, cheeks flushed, and she started dancing…for him.

It was one of those sexy, tantalizing, shake your ass, have no shame dances, and she embraced every opportunity to swing and display her offer. She was in the line, doing the dance, watching him over her shoulder, captivating him, as she shook exactly what he wanted. She had an extra sway in her hips, move to her ass, and ground it around, bending over a bit more than necessary, seducing him with every alluring move.

She ran her hands through her hair, tossing her head back in a provocative manner, licking her lips as she turned back to him, knowing exactly what she was doing, luring him in. She was sexy as hell, charming him with her body, his pants were so tight it hurt, she had him in the palm of her dainty little hand. She wanted him, she was his muse, she was his.