Read Rough Ride Online

Authors: Keri Ford

Tags: #Romance, #Erotica

Rough Ride (5 page)

BOOK: Rough Ride
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She put her hand to the thick arm of the couch and straightened, following him to the kitchen…where he opened the freezer. “Take your pick.”

She met his gaze and then stared into the rows of slender boxes. “You must be joking.”

“Have you had them?”

“No.” At least not this brand. These were the expensive ones. Well, expensive as far as the frozen food market was concerned. It was still cheap junk.

“Then you can’t knock it ‘til you try.” He reached in and pulled out spaghetti.

The only reason she was doing this was to stay with him longer. She picked the broccoli and fettuccini. It seemed the safest since there was no meat. Or at least, nothing in there that had been shaped into meat.

Truth was she’d lived off this crap as a kid. Her parents didn’t cook and she got junk. There was nothing to them. No nutrients, nothing. Just filling food to knock off hunger pains for a few hours.

She was always sick as a kid and the fact that she was barely five foot didn’t help her opinion of the stuff any. Kids needed real food. And real vegetables, not the waxy supposed green beans and she wouldn’t even think of what those potatoes were really made from. The first big book Gretchen had read was a cookbook and she put it to use as soon as she could.

Lane flipped her box around and nodded. “Good selection.”

He read the back of the boxes and she stepped aside as he turned on the oven and then opened them. She would not comment about how he was cooking two completely different meals together. At least they were both pasta. He popped them in the oven. “Going for a quick shower.”

She arched her brows and kept up this light talk by leaning over the dinners. They never talked when together, so she used what she had. “Should I flip them mid-way?”

He chuckled. “Don’t touch them. Just let them cook. When I get out, they’ll be about finished.”

He walked from the kitchen and pulled his shirt over his head. Muscles over muscles shaped his back and down to his waist. He turned back, the button of his jeans popped open, his chest wide. “There are some cokes in the refrigerator. Help yourself.”

She could only nod as he turned and walked away. “Holy shit,” she whispered.

She pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a drink, but when the shower water turned on, she paused and shook. What would he look like stepping out of those jeans? The dark and stained denim sliding off his waist, exposing his rounded ass. The jeans would drop lower to his muscled thighs. She’d never seen them before, but they had to be muscled since the rest of him was nothing but cut and defined.

She opened her drink and poured half of it down her throat to cool her steaming insides. Gracious, she didn’t know where to start tonight, what his plans were. Why he stopped when she’d been on her porch when he could have just driven on by.

A small part of her had been cooking for him over and over because she didn’t know what else to do. The meals were easy, no contact. Now she was supposed to jump into this. Yeah. Right into the frying pan.

She faced his bedroom door, which had been left parted, and she inched closer and peeked through to see, the wall. She bit her lip and bumped the door open with her toe.

Oops. Oh, well, would you look at that. Must have been a little wind from an opened window somewhere. She looked in. Like the other day, his bed was neatly made. There were no clothes on the floor. No TV in his bedroom. His nightstand was bare aside from a clock and a lamp and all his pocket contents. Keys, phone, change and a knife. Pretty standard stuff.

She just couldn’t help herself and looked a little further into the room. To the cracked bathroom door. And through that crack she was able to see steam and another wall, damn trailer design. She stepped in, then thought better of it and left. But she wanted to.

Good Lord, she wanted to slip across the carpet, peek inside the bathroom and see what he looked like behind the frosted glass of the shower door. How the steam would lick around his body. How the water would drip from all those masculine, hard edges.

The shower water cut off and her stomach jumped in her throat. She backed away from his bedroom, grabbed her drink and sank on the couch like she’d been there all along. On his couch that smelled of clean soap and crisp air. Even though she’d never been near Lane when he wasn’t covered in grime, she knew this was his scent. She ran her hand across the cool leather which had so often cupped his body when he sat in front of the TV watching…sports, maybe?

His footsteps sounded near. A creak as a door opened, and she looked up, her breath was robbed from her chest. Lane stood there in jeans and nothing else. His chest was damp, hair still wet. The black script tattoo across his side glistened.

 

Chapter
Five

Lane stopped in the doorway at seeing Gretchen on his couch. She looked down and away from him, smoothing the leather with her thumb. Her back was against the cushions, her legs too short to reach the ground so bare feet bobbed and bounced. He couldn’t help but smile at seeing her there, even when he knew he shouldn’t. But knowing and doing were two different things. He shifted, bumped into the door and she glanced up at the squeak. Her eyes walked him from head to toe. And not just looking but studying. It was likely she didn’t even know her mouth had opened and she was biting her lower lip. Not hard, just a little. Exactly the way a woman should bite a man on the shoulder. Putting a shirt on probably would have been a good idea.

The tension and staring and the licking of her lower lip continued. The cold shower had just calmed his cock down, but it was for nothing as he was hardening again. Fast. Her fingers tightened on the couch arm and he couldn’t take it anymore. If she continued staring and eating him with her eyes, he’d be over her in seconds, no shirt, no pants either. And that would be a really stupid thing to do. So he rubbed over his head and stepped toward the oven and pretended there wasn’t a sex kitten within arm’s length. “Is it ready?”

Her throat cleared. “I didn’t look, but I can smell it.”

A smile tugged at him and glanced to her. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No.” Her feet continued to swing. “Rule of thumb. When you can start smelling it, it’s nearly finished.”

He cracked open the oven door and a wave of heat seemingly melted his face. As if he wasn’t hot enough. The pudding wasn’t bubbling yet and he flipped it closed for an even greater source of heat, just a different kind. Her. “It has a little left. Do you need anything?” Christ, that sounded pathetic. And lame.

“I already grabbed a coke from the refrigerator.”

He just nodded and stood there. This was insane. He had never been struck this stupid by a woman before. He shook it off. The problem was she shouldn’t be here. From the first day he saw her, to yesterday when he went to bed. Then he’d gone and invited her in. And she looked so good sitting there on his dark couch in his darkened and empty living room. Staring at him. Eating him up with her eyes. He pulled a shirt from the dryer and dropped it over his head. Not that it stopped her from staring, but hell. Just hell, that’s all.

He glanced around the space and winced. He looked poor, like he could barely afford the clothes on his back. When he’d come here, he knew it would be temporary, so he hadn’t brought much. Just basics. Small couch. TV. Bed. That was pretty much it. Any other things he’d picked up because his youngest brother moved in with his girlfriend and dumped any extras off on Lane. Like the side tables, lamps and a few odd knickknacks here and there.

His gaze landed back on hers, still sitting there. Feet still bobbing. “You can relax. The food won’t kill you.”

That got a chuckle out of her. “I never thought it would.”

He turned to the cabinets for plates—plastic. It was easier. Never bothered him until now, with Gretchen next to him, separating the plates and placing them side-by-side.

He reached in a drawer for forks. “Sorry. I don’t have real stuff.”

“It’s fine. You said you weren’t staying long.”

“Right.” Not long. Long enough to could push her up against the refrigerator and have her ankles hooked at his lower back.

“How long do you plan to be here?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. Grant is stalling. I think to make sure we stay longer. No oil, and we’ll have to leave eventually for jobs. At this rate, at least another couple of months.”

“He cares a lot about y’all.”

Lane pressed his lips together before saying something he’d regret and just nodded. Grant did care about them. Had cared since he was a kid and learned what caring was. And Lane had let him down. His brother just didn’t know it.

She turned and leaned against the counter, arms under her chest and head turned up to him. “How is he stalling?”

“Little things here and there. Wants all the abandoned wells found and cleared out before we get the equipment needed to start checking any we’ve already found. He doesn’t want us to just clear-cut behind the manor but take our time. Cut down the trees to make firewood instead of just taking a bulldozer to it all. It’s taking a while to get through the thick wood to find what we’re looking for. Then thin it out so we can work without just completely leveling it for the timber. This winter was pretty hard, so it slowed us down too. Then Trent got the flu.”

She shuddered. “Yeah. I remember. Grant asked Tonya one day if she could take some soup by. We went together since I had the key. He looked pretty rough.”

He stared at this remarkable woman. He had no idea. “I didn’t know that.”

She shrugged. “It was just the once.”

“Grant’s good about making sure everyone has what they need. It’s what he’s always done.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m sure he’s enjoyed having you around, but will understand when you’re done and ready to leave.”

How did she do that? Knew that he was worried over Grant’s feelings when he left. “He doesn’t know yet, if you could keep that a secret.”

Her brows pulled together.

“There’s just no point in telling him.” Because if Lane started talking, he might not stop. He might spill the secret he’d been sworn to keep.

One afternoon he’d stopped by his mom’s to surprise her and take her to lunch. That’s when he discovered she’d had breast cancer for a few years and had hidden it from them. When he started to call in his brothers, she made him promise not to. That she didn’t know what would happen and she didn’t want them to worry. Had begged him and he’d caved. The cancer took her and his brothers were angry she’d hidden it. How for so long they could have stepped in and helped her had she only said something.

After the funeral, Lane got out of there, went to the Gulf Coast and that’s where he worked. And worked himself as hard as he could to keep from coming back.

Until now and he just had to stick it out until they were finished and he could go back where the guilt wasn’t so stomach clenching.

“Are your other brothers leaving too?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Leaving isn’t a word Grant likes to hear, so it’s just not discussed.”

“I have no reason to tell him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Thanks.” He stared at the oven, waiting for the squeezing pain to release his chest. It wouldn’t, but a little relief would be great.

She cleared her throat. “There’s a lot of talk and interest in the manor. People are curious what it’s going to look like and how much longer and stuff.”

Thank goodness. A subject change. Sort of, but better than him leaving. “Grant’s focusing a lot of his energy there. That’s also slowing us down on work, but it’ll get there.”

She nodded. “This morning Flora went out there to look at plumbing work.”

He laughed and man that laugh felt good. “I saw her.”

Her brows pulled in. “What’s so funny? She’s good at what she does.”

There was no missing that bulldog protection. “No, no. I’m sure she’s fine at what she does. She took Jacob by surprise is all. His panties were in a twist all day because of it.” He checked the food, and thankfully it looked ready. At least, the pudding was boiling now.

He sat them side-by-side on the stove and pulled back the plastic. Steam rose up from both plates. “All done.”

“Can’t wait.”

He grabbed a spoon and started sliding it out on the plates. “It won’t be nearly as good as what you make, but I can promise you in a pinch, it’ll do.”

She was silent and he glanced over to find her staring at her plate. “Thanks for stopping by and asking me to dinner.”

“No trouble.”

She grabbed her plate and carried it from the kitchen. He followed after, not liking how quiet she’d become.

When he’d pulled in the trailer park lot, there she’d been sitting. Perched on that white patio chair. Her knees bent up. Chin resting on them. Arms hugging her legs. He’d stopped, knowing she should have heard the rumbling of his diesel truck and looked up, but she never did. All this time when he pulled in the lot, if she was on the porch she had looked up. She’d wave. He knew because he always looked to see if she was out whenever he drove in.

Even as he’d walked up her porch and stood next to her, she hadn’t moved. For a moment, he’d thought she was asleep, though God knew how from her position. And then she’d sighed and he realized she was lost in deep thought and it just broke all the way through him.

She sat back on the same spot on the couch with her legs crossed. Plate in her lap and drink to the side. “Here goes nothing.”

He sat beside her and started eating. Frozen dinners weren’t exactly known for lots of taste, but his spaghetti seemed extra bland this time. It’d been a week since he’d kissed her, but her taste was still on his mind. The flavor of vanilla from her lips still strong on his tongue. With her next to him, there was nothing to mask how potent she was.

She chewed the bite in her mouth and swallowed. “Okay, not bad. Little powdery. Like something you’d get in some restaurants, but edible.”

“After the past few nights, the least I could do is cook for you.”

She laughed. “I doubt Flora will see it that way. I promised her pie this morning.”

BOOK: Rough Ride
9.78Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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