Should've Said No (7 page)

“We’ve got spoons, don’t we?”

She held them up, one in each hand.

Carden picked up the container, swaggered over to the couch, and cleared a space for them to sit among the books and journals. “Then bring ’em on over.”

She picked up a couple of napkins and joined him on the couch as he opened the ice cream container and set the lid aside. He took one of the spoons from her, scooped out a heaping spoonful, shifted to face her, and held it up to her mouth. “You first.”

Lindsey’s heart did a swan dive. Was he going to feed her? “Aw…” She opened her mouth and he tempted her by slowly slipping the spoon inside. She closed her lips around it, creamy-caramel-chocolate melting on her tongue, tasting sweet as sin. Carden sensuously slid the spoon out of her mouth. “Mmm…” she murmured, tipping her head back and closing her eyes for a moment. His sexy, satisfied grin showed her he was pleased with her reaction. A wisp of excitement and nerves swirled inside her. Despite her own warnings, she caught herself thinking of more ways she could please him.

Lindsey licked her lips and dipped her spoon into the ice cream while Carden steadied the container. His gaze held hers expectantly as she brought the spoonful to his mouth. “I’m so ready for this,” he said in a rough whisper that felt like the touch of his calloused fingers on her hand. Mirroring his motions, she fed him the ice cream, captivated by the look of sheer bliss on his face as he ate it. Her temperature rose despite the cool mountain air that had filled the cabin. Carden was getting to her, no question.

“God, that’s delicious,” he said.

She bunched her lips. “Hmm…The marshmallow peach I had last night was tasty, too.”

Eyebrows lowered, Carden tipped the container toward her. He pressed the cool cardboard against her thigh, sending chilly tingles through her that settled like mist. “But this is clearly better.”

Lindsey gave him her most demure look. “I don’t know.” She lifted one shoulder. “I’ll need another taste to be sure.”

Carden tipped his chin slowly, his lips tugging up at one corner. He dipped his spoon into the ice cream, and his gaze met hers knowingly. “I’m on to your game.” He fed her another bite. “But I’m willing to play along.”

Her heart stuttered as she savored the salty caramel and rich chocolate. Clearly he was referring to her ruse to get more ice cream, but her secretly being related to the Karlssons was the first thing that had leapt to mind. How would he even have a clue?

She grinned, hoping her eyes hadn’t revealed anything. Best to distract him with more ice cream—and a lot of it. She dug out an oversized bite that was way too big for the spoon and held it out for him. “Me, too.”

Carden eagerly opened his mouth, flashing straight, white teeth. She carefully guided the spoon in, and most of the ice cream made it. The rest of it dripped onto his shirt.

“Oh no.” Lindsey grabbed a napkin, leaned in, and blotted the drip, coming up against solid muscle. “Sorry.” She raised her head to look at him, her lips dangerously close to his.

“Don’t be.” He smoothed his fingers along her jawline and lifted her chin, kissing her gently, testing.

Lindsey went light-headed with the rush of sensation, the touch of his lips leaving her longing for more. Clutching his shirt in her fingers—napkin and all—she pulled him closer, melting into his kiss. Carden took it from tentative to tender, then parted her lips with the velvety sweep of his tongue. She matched his languid rhythm, hypnotized. He was all chocolate and caramel, creamy cool and sweet.

Sinfully delicious.

No doubt he was 31 flavors of trouble, but resisting him seemed impossible.

He pulled away just inches, setting his piercing-blue gaze on hers. Reaching up, he slowly skimmed the pad of his thumb over her lips.

Lindsey’s breath hitched. “That was one heck of a housewarming present,” she said, because she couldn’t think of anything else except
kiss me again
.

Carden nodded slowly. “My pleasure.”

There was that expression again. No wonder he used it often. From what she could tell so far, he was an expert when it came to the subject. She sat back and crumpled the napkin in her hand. The stain from the ice cream was barely visible on his plaid shirt.

Carden tilted the ice cream container toward her. “Want more?”

Do I ever…

She shook her head. “Nothing can beat that last bite.”

He dug his spoon in, ate another mouthful, and glanced at her expectantly. “Nothing but more of the same.”

The guy didn’t say much, but he sure had a way with words.
And with his hands…And with his lips…
But Lindsey wasn’t sure how wise “more of the same” would be. She’d only been in Thistle Bend a few days, but she’d managed to eat enough to last her a month, and to kiss the super-sexy bachelor whose family had a historical rivalry with hers. On the bright side, she’d mastered driving a rickety U-Haul and learned how to fix stuck windows.

Carden set the ice cream on the coffee table, picked up one of the books about Thistle Bend he’d pushed aside earlier, and thumbed through the pages. “There might be some Crenshaw history in here.”

Probably some Karlsson history, too.

“I’ve got so much to learn about this place,” Lindsey said. “Reading to do, people to interview. I just have to figure out where to start.”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “I can give you a crash course.”

“Like a SparkNotes version?”

“Yep. With the special touch of an insider.”

Lindsey shivered at the mention of his special touch, imagining the rasp of his hands against her most tender skin. His long fingers…

As if directed by her thoughts, he slid said fingers up her bare thigh, where goosebumps had risen. “You cold?”

“Just a chill. Believe it or not, I might have to close some of these windows before I go to bed.”

Carden grinned and shook his head. “The temperature swings here are another thing that might take some getting used to.” He closed the book and tapped his thumb against the cover. “I can show you the perfect place to start with the museum. In fact, I plan to donate it.”

Lindsey narrowed her eyes. “You plan to donate the perfect place to start?”

“Intrigued?”

Clearly there was no doubt about that—on all fronts. “Yes.”

“Then why don’t I pick you up tomorrow night after work and show you what I’m talking about.”

Lindsey winced. “I’m having dinner out tomorrow night.”

Carden set the book aside, and gave her an easy smile. “Anyone I know?”

“Probably. Everyone in Thistle Bend knows one another from what I hear.” She hoped she could play this casual. “Tansy Karlsson invited me to her family’s restaurant. The Canary, right?” She watched him closely for a reaction to her mention of the Karlssons, but if he had one, she missed it.

“They serve killer fried chicken.”

The third last thing she needed. She pressed her hand against her stomach. “I can’t even think about that right now.” She slid to the edge of her seat. “But I won’t be able to get ‘the perfect start’ off of my mind. How about after dinner, if it’s not too late?”

Carden nodded and gave her a sexy grin. “Even if it is.”

Chapter 9

The next morning, Carden strode into his younger brother Travis’s fly fishing store with a cup of coffee in each hand and a bakery box balanced on top. Dragonfly Anglers sat on the same side of the street and several doors down from the soon-to-be Thistle Bend Heritage Museum. Like nearly every structure on Larkspur Avenue, the building had its own storied, multi-use past, as a boardinghouse and liquor store, traceable back to the mining days. The beauty of this one was that it was located directly across from Calypso Coffee, where they brewed kick-ass coffee and baked the best cinnamon rolls anywhere in the Rockies.

Carden stole a glance at the display of new fishing rods that had come in since he’d last been in the store.

“I held one in the back for you,” Travis said from where he sat behind his massive desk, a sprawling showpiece made of reclaimed aspen.

“That’s my little brother.” Carden smiled at Travis, who’d found an ideal fit for himself with his business. So ideal he’d been featured in
American Angler
magazine, looking like a true outdoorsman, with his sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and a slender, sinewy build suited for guiding fly fishing expeditions. Travis was spit out of their dad’s mouth just as sure as Carden had been spit out of their mom’s.

Carden set a cup of coffee in front of Travis and slid the bakery box across the desk. “Since I didn’t make it to the pub last night.” A couple nights a week, the brothers met down the street at the High Country Pub for a beer. One beer each. Because one beer had always been Carden’s magic bullet.
Just enough to calm you. Not enough to make you stupid.
Things never turned out pretty after the second beer.

“I got held up working at one of Dean’s rentals,” Carden said. It was best that his interactions with Lindsey—and his promise to Gran about the Crenshaws’ presentation in the museum—stayed secret. After Gran, he was closer to Travis than anyone, but he still preferred to keep his business private.

“Apology accepted.” Travis took a gulp of his coffee, his eyes brightening as he opened the bakery box. “Cinnamon rolls, too? Feel free to stand me up anytime.”

Carden nodded and smiled wryly. As if he needed a cinnamon roll after all the sweets last night. Ice cream…Lindsey…His heart started kicking up dust at the thought of her. He wasn’t used to it running out of control like that, and he wasn’t sure he liked it. He drew in a deep breath, composing himself, and sat in one of the elk-pelt chairs in front of the desk.

Travis dug in, devouring nearly half a cinnamon roll in one bite. Chewing, he narrowed his gaze on Carden. “Something’s different,” he murmured through a mouthful.

Carden blinked once and took a slug of his black coffee. “They change the recipe?”

“About you.”

Carden clenched his jaw. Something was different all right. Something slender and blond and sunny had sent him spinning and he was still trying to catch his balance. “I changed shampoo.” He gave Travis a sly grin. “Figured no one would notice.”

Travis chuckled, and Carden hoped he’d let it go. The best way to make sure that happened was to mention Travis’s upcoming wedding to his Georgia-peach fiancée, Emily. She and Travis had dated long-distance for two years before he’d popped the question on Valentine’s Day—at The Canary, of all places. Because Travis and Emily had been apart so long, they were wasting no time planning a wedding. Soon the Crenshaws would be headed to Savannah for the big event.

Carden had never known a guy who’d kept a countdown calendar for his wedding—at least for everyone else to see. But Travis had bought one online and had it proudly displayed on his desk with a big bold number ten on it. “Ten days and counting.”

Travis leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Man, I can’t wait.”

Carden could relate. He felt the same way about seeing Lindsey tonight. It had been years since he’d gotten that twinge of excitement about seeing a girl, but it was back—whether he liked it or not. After spending most of the night wide awake, sorting out the sensations she’d sparked in him, he had to admit he was worried. Losing Amanda had hardened his heart against that tease of an emotion called hope. Sure, he’d had it for a while, longing for her to come back and justify what she had done. But days and months and years passed and she hadn’t. Now he found himself attracted to another captivating outsider. Hadn’t he learned?

“I’m looking forward to it myself,” Carden said about the wedding.

“Sure you don’t want to bring a date?” Travis raised one eyebrow as he gobbled another bite of the cinnamon roll, leaving only a bit of it pinched between his fingers.

“Hundred percent.”
Well, maybe ninety-nine.
“That’s why I RSVP’d for one.”

“Adding one more person wouldn’t be a problem.” Travis had never been good at being coy, and his tone gave him away.

Carden took another slug of coffee and set the cup on the desk with authority. “You’ve been talking to Gran.”

Travis shrugged. “She said the museum girl is gorgeous. And sparks were flying between you two. And that you’d met her in the dark in Dean’s cabin and didn’t tell anyone.”

Typical Travis. Once his mouth got going, everything he knew poured out. He leveled a stare at Carden. “And you didn’t make it to the pub last night because you got held up at
Dean’s cabin.
No call. No text. I mean, you really must’ve gotten
held up.
”

Carden stood, not thrilled with the smart-ass grin stretching across his brother’s face. “Did Gran happen to tell you that the Karlssons are already courting ‘the museum girl,’ trying to influence how she portrays them in the museum? They sent her mail before she even got here, and they’re having her over for dinner at The Canary tonight. So Gran asked me to make sure Lindsey got the same pressure from the Crenshaws. That’s what’s going on between me and the museum girl.”

Mostly.

“So her name’s Lindsey?” Travis asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Nice.” He popped the last bit of his cinnamon roll into his mouth. “Gran said you might get kinda prickly if I mentioned her.”

Carden set his jaw and narrowed his gaze on Travis. “You know what? Both you and Gran talk too much.”

He picked up his cup of coffee and swaggered out the door.

—

Lindsey spent the day steeped in Thistle Bend history, reviewing suggestions for exhibits, and interviewing and approving three candidates that the board had recommended for paid positions at the museum. Now she had an official staff. She also had a list of contractors eager to bid on paying jobs, and of skilled volunteers willing to donate their time and talents to bring the museum to life. It came as no surprise that the first person on the volunteers list was Carden Crenshaw. Even so, Lindsey’s heart fluttered when she saw his name.

The day had been cram-packed, but not tightly enough to keep thoughts of him from sneaking into her mind and teasing her senses. The scent of vanilla. The touch of his calloused fingers. The taste of an unforgettably sexy caramel-chocolate kiss.