Small-Town Cinderella (The Pirelli Brothers) (5 page)

“I knew as soon as I saw you that you were the one.”

Debbie swallowed. “Gary, that’s so...sweet of you to say. But the thing is...” Oh, jeez. She hated doing this. She’d been on the other side of the “it’s not you, it’s me” speech too many times not to feel badly about delivering it. “I’m not really looking for anything serious. I just want to meet some new people, to go out and have a good time.”

His sincere expression quickly morphed into one that was far more interested. “Well, in that case, why don’t we get out of here? I’ve booked a room in a hotel just down the street where we can really have some fun.”

“Whoa, there, Gar! I think you still have the wrong idea about me. But, you know, good luck with all that!”

Grabbing her glass, Debbie downed half the wine in a single gulp as she made her escape.

Speaking of which... Yep, Drew was still in the corner booth. Still watching...which meant as much as tonight was starting to look like a bust, she couldn’t go home yet. She didn’t want to give Drew the satisfaction of thinking that he’d run her off or worse, that he was right and that she should be spending her nights at home alone like a good girl.

She was going to have fun tonight, she thought grimly, even if it killed her.

* * *

She was killing him.

Drew’s hand tightened around the soda he’d been downing all night. He hadn’t come to the bar to drink, though that was the invitation he’d issued to Cassidy Carter. It had been strictly business, and he didn’t drink on the job. Of course, Cass had left over an hour ago, and he still hadn’t switched to anything harder than pure sugar and caffeine. He was a little afraid of what he might do if even so much as a beer went to his head. Hell, the rate the night was going, he should probably switch to diet and caffeine-free.

Every time Debbie laughed, every time she touched another guy—even if it was just to shake hands—every time she leaned closer to hear what one of them said, every damn time the guy’s gaze dropped to the rounded curves on display beneath a sweater that looked like it was made out of cotton candy, Drew had to fight to keep his butt in the booth.

He’d always considered himself a patient man, but he was quickly running out. Still, he kept waiting. Waiting for Debbie to realize none of these losers were good enough for her. He could see it at first glance. What was taking her so damn long?

He’d thought overhearing Debbie at Darcy’s bachelorette party was bad. But that had only been words, and he’d done his best to convince himself it was just talk. That she wasn’t serious about wanting some stranger to sweep her off her feet. Clearly, he was wrong. Not only had Debbie meant every word, she was backing them up with actions.

And it was killing him.

Drew didn’t want to look too closely at the reasons why. Debbie was an old family friend, and he was worried about her. That was reason enough, right? He didn’t want to think that he was jealous or that he wanted to be one of the men standing close enough to her to know if that sweater could possibly feel as soft as it looked. He certainly didn’t want to think about any of those men kissing her the way he had on the balcony last weekend because he shouldn’t have been the one kissing her, either. Tonight only drove that home more than ever. How could he be the one to protect her if he had to worry about protecting her from himself?

But when the waitress brought Debbie yet another glass of wine and when the introduction handshakes turned into nice-to-meet-you hugs, he couldn’t stand by any longer.

He was saving her from herself. When she came to her senses and forgot all about this whole adventure and excitement streak she was on, she’d realize that, too. She’d probably even thank him for it.

A burst of mocking laughter that sounded just like his brothers’ echoed in his head.

Yeah, sure she would.

* * *

Debbie wasn’t sure how long she’d been talking to the brown-haired guy standing in front of her before she realized she no longer held his full attention. His gaze kept flicking toward a point over her shoulder. She might have feared she was too boring to hold his interest, but boredom didn’t put a look of fear in a guy’s eyes.

“I think I should, um...” He was already backing away before he blurted out, “Nice meeting you, Debbie.”

She didn’t have to turn around to around to know Drew was behind her. “What are you doing, Drew?” she asked as she drained the last of her wine and motioned to the waitress for another glass.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.”

“I am here for singles’ night.” She turned to face him, feeling herself wobble slightly in her new shoes. She should have gone with the boots instead of the heels, but the pumps had the cutest bow on the toe.... “And you should be with your date.”

A frown pulled his dark brows together. “I’m not on a date.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine the brunette you were with earlier.”

“That wasn’t a date. She’s a coworker on a custom house I’m building in the area.”

“You always hold hands with your coworkers? I bet your subcontractors love that.”

“We weren’t holding hands. Cassidy was upset and I was trying to reassure her. The client we’re working for is a real nightmare, and Cass is ready to quit. None of which explains what you’re doing here.”

“I told you. It’s singles’ night, and I’m single,” she said, crossing her arms and meeting his scowl with a smirk.

He mimicked her actions, minus the smirk, folding his muscular arms over his broad chest, as he replied, “Well, so am I.”

“You’re not signed up for this event,” she protested.

Glancing over at a nearby high-top table, he spotted the clipboard and a few leftover name tags. Within seconds, he’d scrawled his name across the sign-in sheet and slapped a tag to his broad chest. His name in bold, block letters with the word
contractor
written beneath. “It’s not supposed to be a business card, Drew,” she said as she reached out and poked him right in the name tag.

He caught her hand and held it for a moment as his gaze dropped to her chest. Or at least to the name badge on her sweater. “Obviously.”

Debbie blinked, for a second having forgotten what she’d written on her own tag. “Oh, yeah. That.”

Hungry for the taste of adventure....

It had sounded like something fun to write down at the time, so why did she suddenly feel embarrassed, like a teenager caught by her mother making out with a boy on the front porch? She didn’t know. She couldn’t even be sure how a moment like that would have felt. She’d never dated as a teenager. She’d never had the opportunity to do so many things.

And that was why she was willing to take a chance on this singles’ group. Okay, so tonight had been a bit of a disappointment. There were other events planned. This night was only the beginning. She smiled her thanks and handed the waitress some cash in exchange for another glass of wine.

Lifting her chin, she met Drew’s gaze head on. “You’re not my big brother, Drew. I don’t need you to rescue me.”

A flash of guilt flickered across his expression, and Debbie realized she’d nailed it. He really did think of her like a little sister, someone to look out for, someone to protect. She took a swallow of wine to wash away the ache in her throat. So much for thinking he might have been jealous. So much for the foolish hope that he’d approached her because he wanted to be the guy she was talking to instead of the half a dozen or so men whose names she’d already forgotten.

Catching her by the wrist, he took the wineglass from her hand and set it aside. “I think you’ve had enough.”

“You’ve got that right,” she muttered. She’d certainly had enough of him!

Pushing past him, she headed for the exit. The cool, quiet night air brushed her heated cheeks, a welcome relief from the noisy, crowded restaurant. Her heels crunched unevenly across the asphalt, but she didn’t get far before he caught up with her again.

“You shouldn’t be driving.”

“I didn’t have that much to drink.”

“You had four glasses of wine.”

“You were counting?” Debbie snorted, only to realize maybe that was a good thing since she seemed to have stopped keeping track after two. No wonder the asphalt was rocking beneath her feet, and the stars were shooting like a pretty kaleidoscope overhead....

“Let me take you home.”

Oh, why did Drew’s murmured words have to sound so much better than any of the invitations she’d heard from potential dates that evening? Not that he meant anything by it. Just like he hadn’t meant anything by the kiss they’d shared. “You can’t fool me.”

He was playing the role of the white knight—offering rides home and apologizing for kisses when he should have been kissing her again.

“What?”

“What, what?” She hadn’t said anything. Oh, crap, what had she said?

Frowning, Drew asked, “How is asking to give you a ride home trying to fool you?”

Relieved she hadn’t spilled anything too embarrassing, yet still annoyed, she snapped, “You didn’t offer to drive me home. You asked to take me home. As in, ‘Let’s go back to your place.’ You think I don’t know a come-on when I hear one, Drew Pirelli?”

Just like she knew very well when she
hadn’t
heard one, but she found herself entirely unwilling to let him off the hook so easily.

“That’s not— I didn’t—” A pained expression crossed his face, and he ran a frustrated hand through his hair. Blowing out a breath, he started again, “Debbie, I—”

Feeling another apology coming on, she threw up a dismissing hand and started walking. Not that she would risk driving home, but she had a coat in her car and if she had to wait who knew how long for a cab, she’d rather not have to stand around shivering.

But she only made it a few steps before the ground slipped out from beneath her feet. And not because she’d fallen. Her startled gasp ended in a mousy squeak as Drew swept her up into his arms. The stars spun wildly overhead, and without thought she clung to his shoulders. Their gazes collided for a heat-filled second before his mouth crashed down on hers in a stunning kiss.

If that night on the balcony had been wedding fever, this was a different level of heat altogether. The kiss tasted of frustration and passion, a fight-fire-with-fire kind of burn that promised so much more—

The earth may well have moved, but Debbie didn’t realize Drew had until he plopped her into the passenger seat of his car. His breathing still ragged from the kiss, he repeated, “You’re not driving home.”

Despite the way the world was still tilting around her, every ounce of independent woman roared inside her. Realizing her hands were still fisted in his shirt, she pushed him away. “I can
not
believe you just did that!”

Drew’s jaw tightened as he leaned closer, until she could catch a hint of his aftershave mixed with the woodsy night air. “Believe it.”

The vehicle’s dome light wasn’t very bright, but in its faint glow, she saw something in his hardened expression. Something that made her pulse pound even harder. Something that made her wonder if she was seeing Drew in a different light...or if something had changed in the way he was seeing her.

And she had the feeling that as surprised as she was by his actions, he’d surprised himself even more.

Chapter Four

I
cannot believe you just did that!

Debbie’s outraged words rang in his head on the silent drive back home. Drew couldn’t believe it himself. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he glanced over at Debbie. She was looking out the side window, giving him little more than a view of the back of her head, but he could imagine the fire in her blue eyes. She had every right to be pissed and to give him the cold shoulder, but her silence at least allowed him the time to get his emotions back under control.

Damn if he couldn’t hear Angie laughing at him now.

His former girlfriend had accused him more than once of not
having
emotions.
If I walk out this door right now, you won’t even try to stop me, will you?
she’d demanded during the fight that led to their breakup. Truth was, he had tried to stop her. He’d talked about how good they were together, how much they had in common. He brought up the time they’d both invested in the relationship and asked if she really wanted to throw that away.

But even as the words were coming out of his mouth—logical, sensible words—he’d known it wasn’t enough. Whatever Angie wanted, he didn’t have it within himself to give it to her. And that was the reason why he hadn’t stopped her when she did finally walk out that door.

Never once had it occurred to him to physically pick Angie up and kiss her to try to convince her to stay. Watching Debbie walk away...that instinct had been undeniable.

And it didn’t make sense! Debbie wasn’t his girlfriend. She was his friend. And while he wouldn’t have let her drive home even if he hadn’t known her her entire life, he could have stopped her another way. Hell, all he’d had to do was take her purse and the keys inside. Simple, easy, logical. And yet that solution had never occurred to him.

Drew shifted in the driver’s seat. He didn’t know what was going on, but he didn’t like it. He wanted things to go back to the way they used to be when he didn’t know how it felt to have Debbie’s soft sweater and softer curves pressed against him. When he didn’t have the memory of her kiss replaying again and again through his mind. When he didn’t have to fight his imagination to keep the kiss from becoming more than a kiss as his lips moved lower to taste the curves of her breasts....

He’d stopped, or if he were totally honest with himself, he’d been interrupted, that night on the balcony before he could take things further. And yet his fingertips tingled with the thought of tracing the soft, pale skin beneath the burgundy dress she’d worn. He could hear her trembling sighs as his touch became more intimate, more arousing.

Swearing beneath his breath, he pushed the fantasy aside and focused on the headlights cutting through the darkness beyond the windshield. As the winding mountain roads gave way to the gentler slopes leading into town, he glanced over at the woman beside him. “Debbie?”

No response.

“Look, I know you’re angry, but you have to understand...” His voice trailed off, at a loss to explain something he couldn’t figure out for himself.

The silence from the other side of the SUV continued, and he leaned forward for a closer look. Okay, so she wasn’t pissed off and ignoring him. She was sound asleep.

Drew sighed and dropped his head back. Great. Just great.

He didn’t want to leave her alone like this, but he couldn’t stay if he took her back to her place. Debbie lived in the apartment above the bakery right on Main Street. Someone was bound to notice his truck parked outside her shop all night.

That made his place the better choice, though he doubted Debbie would think so.

Drew lived just outside of town. The Craftsman-style homes in his neighborhood would be hitting the century mark soon, but all were well cared for with nicely maintained yards. Columns and pillars bracketed wide porches marked with front swings and whiskey barrels and hanging pots filled with mums and pansies and petunias.

He’d rented the house for the past several years, liking the consistency of knowing the people who lived around him in the established neighborhood, but he’d always known it was temporary. His dream home had existed in his mind for years, and before long it would be a reality.

Debbie hadn’t stirred by the time he’d parked in the driveway and circled around to open the passenger door. The dome light glowed from behind her, illuminating her blond hair and giving her an almost angelic halo. He smiled wryly when he thought of how she might take that comparison. Why she wanted to make a break with the person she was and try to be someone else, he didn’t know. Not when she was already perfect.

God, she was pretty. Her dark eyelashes fanned against her cheeks and, even without her bold and sassy smile, he could see the faint hint of the dimple that flashed every time she laughed. The smell of her sweet and spicy perfume tempted him to lean closer, to find the exact spot of ivory skin she’d touched with the scent. Whatever lipstick she’d had on earlier that night had worn away, leaving her mouth a natural pink he hadn’t been able to resist.

How was it that he’d known her all her life without really knowing her at all?

She stirred suddenly as if roused by his stare—or maybe even by his earthshaking thoughts—and blinked those bright blue eyes at him. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured.

“Drew— What—” Her gaze focused over his shoulder. “What are we doing here?” She sat up straight, and he could see the moment all that wine went to her head. Her eyes closed again, her face paled and her throat moved as she swallowed hard.

“Are you gonna be sick?”

“If I am, you might want to step back.”

Drew laughed even as he leaned closer to unhook her seat belt. She needed someone to look after her, and that was a role he felt comfortable with—even if the idea of Debbie sleeping under his roof did send a pulse of heat through his veins. “Come on. I’m not leaving you alone like this, and I’ve got a Pirelli family secret recipe, thanks to Sam, guaranteed to take away the worst of a hangover.”

He helped her inside, figuring he could judge how poorly she was feeling by her total lack of resistance. It struck him then that Debbie had never been to his place even though she was a common fixture at family gatherings at his parents’ house. Now wasn’t exactly the time for a tour, not that there was much to see. The living room, with its man-cave style furnishings of oversize recliners and couch, well-worn coffee tables and wall-mounted flat-screen TV, branched off into hallways on either side. One led to the master bedroom, the other to the secondary bedrooms and guest bath.

He guided Debbie through the arched doorway to his tiny dining room. She sank into the chair he pulled out for her and sat with her head in his hands. A short peninsula countertop separated the dining nook from the rest of the kitchen, so he could easily keep an eye on her as he proceeded to fix what really amounted to watered-down hot tea mixed with some lemon and honey. The drink was ready within minutes and he carried it over to her.

She looked miserable, a far different girl from the one who’d tied his guts into knots as she laughed and flirted through the night. A very small part of him was enjoying her discomfort as payback for what she’d put him through, but at least now it was over. Certainly after tonight, she’d have learned her lesson and this would be the end of her ridiculous search for some stranger to come along and sweep her off her feet.

“Careful. It’s hot,” he said as he set the mug in front of her.

Okay, that warning at least earned him a glare, but she did blow on the surface of the steaming liquid before taking a sip. “Hmm, this is good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said as he leaned back against the counter. “As soon as you finish that, I’ll get you some more comfortable clothes to change into, and you can crash in the guest room.”

“You really don’t have to do all this, you know.” She lifted her chin to a stubborn angle even as she laced her fingers around the warm mug—like holding on with both hands would somehow keep her steady. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”

And she’d taken care of her mother for many years before she’d been on her own. A pinprick of guilt stabbed him. Despite his earlier thoughts, Debbie deserved to go out and have a good time. Why did it bother him so much that she wanted to? She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. That independent streak was something she had in common with Angie. But unlike with his last girlfriend, Drew was having a hard time fighting his own protective instincts.

“I know. Your mother would be proud of you.”

Looking up from the mug of tea, her eyes widened—big and blue and beautiful. Drew felt a moment’s panic when they started to fill with tears. Debbie never cried. Or at least, not that he’d ever seen—except that one time.

Nearly the whole town had turned out for her mother’s funeral, and everyone who attended had taken the time to speak to Debbie and offer their condolences. Drew wasn’t sure what had made him slip away from the crowd or why he’d gone to the bakery later that evening. But he’d taken one look at Debbie’s face and the tears she was trying so hard to hide and pulled her into his arms.

They’d never talked about that day, but he had to wonder if she could see the memory reflected in his gaze. She blinked her eyes quickly as she pushed away from the table, her movements slow and careful. “Drew...”

She reached out toward him, and time seemed to stand still. He was caught in the moment, spellbound by the intimate silence of the late night. It was as though he was standing on the brink of two worlds. The one he knew where he and Debbie always had been and always would be friends and a new, uncertain world where anything—
anything—
could happen. His blood heated at the possibilities, and when she touched him, placing her hand against his chest, he felt as though she’d given him a violent shove. One that had him teetering on the edge of crossing that line between friendship and so much more....

She whispered his name again, the longing in the single word grabbing hold of a need inside of him and refusing to let go. He reached up, cupping her face in his hands, and his thumb brushed against a tear. Damp and salty between his rough, calloused skin and the softness of Debbie’s. Her eyes still had a watery cast, and he was taken back once more to the day of the funeral. A day when he’d wrapped Debbie in his arms to comfort her.

There’d been nothing sexual about it—one friend offering comfort to another.

But that wouldn’t be the case tonight. If he crossed that line, it may never be the case again....

Reining in the desire raging through him took every ounce of the self-control that had deserted him earlier. Kissing her without thinking his actions through had been a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. He wouldn’t let himself rush into this. Not when Debbie might regret the decision in the light of day. She talked a tough game, but her guard was down right now, revealing a vulnerability her bright smile and smart mouth normally disguised.

Touching his lips against her forehead when he wanted the taste, the texture, the temptation of her mouth beneath his more than he wanted his next breath, he pulled away. Her pale eyebrows pulled together, her confusion a contrast to the flush of arousal coloring her cheeks and painting her parted lips. “Drew, what—”

“Time for bed, princess. I’ll go get those clothes.” He hurried from the kitchen, half expecting to feel the ceramic mug crash against the back of his head. The patronizing nickname might have taken things too far, but he needed to find his footing and the familiar teasing brought him back to solid ground. And he wasn’t moving from there until he’d given serious thought to the direction he was heading.

* * *

Debbie squinted against the early-morning sunlight and fought the urge to hide under the covers and sleep for a few more hours. Rolling to her side, her head spun in protest. Ugh, make that a few more days.

She tried to swallow, but her throat was so dry her tongue felt like sandpaper against the roof of her mouth. Oh, she was never going to drink again. Pushing aside the covers, she slipped out of Drew’s bed. Okay, technically it was his guest bed, and you’d think if she was going to suffer the physical effects of too much alcohol that she’d at least have the mental relief of not recalling everything that happened the night before. But no, there it was—the memory rearing its ugly, embarrassing head...

Lifting a hand to touch his chest.... Seeing the look in his eyes and foolishly thinking he wanted to kiss her as badly as she wanted to him to.... The way she’d practically begged him to....

And then the touch of his lips against her forehead before he shooed her off to bed like she’d been an eight-year-old guest at one of Sophia’s slumber parties.

Heat burned in her cheeks. How was she ever going to face him again?

It’s never too late to leave town,
she thought grimly.

But one thing was for sure, she decided as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the dresser. Her blond hair had turned corkscrew wild from all the tossing and turning the night before, and what was left of her makeup was smeared beneath her bloodshot eyes. And she was wearing his clothes—the dark blue, sinfully soft T-shirt and black drawstring shorts he’d left for her outside the bathroom where she’d taken refuge after humiliating herself in the kitchen.

She was not facing him like this.

Cracking the bedroom door, she listened for a moment. She didn’t hear any sounds from the rest of the house. Biting her bottom lip, she stepped out into the hall. If she could make her escape while Drew was still sleeping, she could save at least the tiniest bit of her pride. Yes, that would mean doing the walk of shame through town to get back home since her car was still in The High Tide parking lot, but she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather see less at that moment than Drew. And, of course, it wasn’t a real walk of shame since that expression was reserved for slipping away the morning after sleeping with someone and she hadn’t slept with Drew...which made the whole thing...that...much...worse.