A Fair to Remember
by
Stacey Joy Netzel
Copyright 2011 Stacey Joy Netzel
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Contact information: http://www.StaceyJoyNetzel.com
Cover art by Tamra Westbury
Welcome to Redemption Series, Book 2:
Reformed gang member Wes Carter feels Redemption, Wisconsin, is just the place to relocate his financial business for reasons more than just the name. He’s ready for a nice, quiet life in small town USA. Tara Russell has decided it’s time to add some excitement to her life and get a little wild—no matter how uncomfortable it makes her or her overprotective family. They meet at the local fair one warm summer night and discover opposites attract for all the right reasons. Add a dash of Sugar in the form of an incorrigible Great Dane, and it’s destined to be A Fair To Remember.
Available at : Smashwords
Website and Blog: http://www.StaceyJoyNetzel.com
Dedication
~~~
This one, always and forever, to Dulcie.
Chapter 1
There was no such thing as love at first sight, but Tara Russell needed someone to explain that to Sugar. Her arm was ready to detach from its socket as her brother’s nine-month-old fawn-colored Great Dane pulled her along the fairway, intent on her latest infatuation. So far, Tara had managed to keep Sugar from attacking the man as he ambled past the games and rides with their flashing lights and cajoling carnies, but her strength was waning.
Truth be told, so was her will. Her gaze locked on the backside of the man about ten yards ahead of them. Sugar’s target was easily the sexiest guy Tara had seen in a long time, and believe you me, she’d been looking. Unfortunately, the small town of Redemption, Wisconsin, didn’t provide its women with much to choose from—in her opinion, anyway.
But this guy…mmm. The summer sun picked up a suggestion of auburn highlights on the top, but the shorter sides were dark brown. A faint shadow of a beard darkened his jaw, softening his chiseled profile and enhancing his rugged appeal. She hadn’t caught the color of his eyes, though he’d glanced in her general direction a time or two.
Before she started drooling, she forced herself to acknowledge the most intriguing thing about him: his black suit that fit his six-foot, nicely built body like it was tailored especially for him. Wait a second. Intriguing? No. A shake of her head made her long ponytail swish against her back. Off-putting, that’s the word she meant.
Because, really, who wore a suit to a fair in this heat? Who wore a suit to a fair, period? She started imagining likely explanations and came up with lawyer…and…um…nope, that was it. Bummer. Imagine trying to bring a Suit home to her Hog-loving family? Bad enough she didn’t fit the Russell mold, they might disown her if she fell for some uptight, blood-sucking, sexy—
Geez, wasn’t he roasting in all that material? Because just looking at him made her hot. Sweat dampened her skin, making her tank top cling even more with the late afternoon temperature hovering close to eighty.
Then again, holding Sugar back was no walk in the park.
Tara plucked at the black material of her top and squinted at the sky through her sunglasses, wishing there were at least a hint of a breeze to cool her sticky skin. Thank heavens she’d kept her cutoffs on instead of changing into jeans.
Sugar switched direction, throwing Tara off balance in her sandals and giving the dog the upper hand with her forward momentum. The dog’s entire body wagged along with her tail as she made a beeline for Tom Hayden, one of her brother’s buddies. A few of the other guys from her brother’s crowd were leaning against their Harley’s, drinking beer and hanging out, dressed in their riding gear.
“Heads up,” Tara called, trying to regain control. As if she’d ever really had it.
To Sugar’s delight, Tom grasped either side of the exuberant dog’s neck and gave her a rough greeting, but his gaze swept the length of Tara. “Damn, girl. What got into you?”
Tara felt her cheeks flush and tried to laugh his comment off. “Just dressing the part for the tattoo booth. Can you imagine me helping out in my usual clothes?”
Tom snorted and a couple of the guys chuckled. Usual for Tara was the opposite of the skin tight, scooped neck tank top with metal-ringed holes of different sizes dotting her torso and back. She’d added a loose chain belt to her low, short cutoffs that made clinking noises as she walked, the ends dangling down past her right hip to bump her thigh with each step. Nothing she wore even remotely resembled her business attire as a real estate agent.
One of the guys made a borderline vulgar side comment to another and Tom turned to glare at him. “Charlie’s little sis, man, knock it off.”
Tara rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a stand in for Charlie, Tom. Allow me a little freedom.”
“Sorry—I’m just used to backing Charlie up.”
“Well stop.”
“Okay.” His gazed dropped from the extra makeup she wore to the tattoos on her arms. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d swear those were real. Your mom does an awesome job, even on the fake ones.”
“She is an artist—and the bonus is, they’re pain free.”
To complete the costume, her mother had air brushed tattoos of barbed wire around her right upper arm, an asp curled around a sword on her left, a rose on the side of her neck, a small shooting star on the inside of her left wrist, and last, but not least, a heart encircled with thorns on her ankle. Together they’d done a good job of transforming Tara into a biker chick ready for a walk on the wild side.
Tara’s gaze skimmed their bikes and leather chaps. “You guys heading out for a ride or on your way back?”
“We’re headed out in a little bit, but we’ll be back later tonight for the band. You going?”
Tara shrugged. “Not sure yet.”
Having licked all the hands she could reach, Sugar tugged on the leash, pulling back toward the thick of the crowd. Tara grinned at Tom. “I guess it’s time to go—maybe I’ll see you there.”
A few steps later, Tara heard her name over the noise, and turned to see Lauren Frazier waving from the frozen custard stand with her little girl in the stroller next to her. Grabbing a firm hold on Sugar’s leash, she approached cautiously, but with a genuine smile.
“Hey, Lauren, I’ve been meaning to stop in for a trim.”
Lauren sighed with mock disgust. “Some day you’re going to let me do more than just take a half inch off the ends.”
Tara shook her head; that day would be a long way off. But now Lauren was eyeing her with raised brows. “You celebrating Halloween in July this year?”
“What?” Tara asked.
Lauren grinned. “Between the Haunted House I saw on the way in and your costume, I don’t know what else to think.”
“Ha, ha, funny. I’m working the tattoo booth later. Mom asked me to display some of her work.”
“Ah, well that makes more sense.”
Tara suspected she needed to start expanding her horizons to avoid shocking people when she took a drastic turn. Before thoughts of her boring life took over, she looked down at cute little Emma with all her blond curls. “Hey, Emma, is Mommy getting you some ice cream?”
“We share it.” Emma held up a bandaged hand. “Owie.”
“I see that.” Tara glanced at Lauren. “What happened? Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s fine. She burned her fingers on a lit cigarette. Some punk friend of Max’s flicked it into the backyard, and Emma grabbed it before Max could stop her.” Lauren accepted the large twist cone from the man behind the counter and handed him two singles.
“Poor little girl. And how awful for you, too,” she said to Lauren.
“Not being able to take her pain away was the worst part. I was such a wreck. I don’t know what I would’ve done if Caleb hadn’t been there.”
Tara lifted a brow. “Caleb?”
Before Lauren could respond, Emma whined, “Momma, I’cream, I’cream!”
With an indulgent smile, Lauren knelt down and helped Emma grasp the cone with her unbandaged hand. “Careful, honey. Don’t drop it.” When Lauren stood back up, she pointed to a tall, auburn-haired man standing in line for a funnel cake with her ten-year-old son, Max. “Caleb.”
Tara looked him over and found herself smiling. Nice. Almost as nice as the Suit Sugar had been following. She tilted her head, thinking he looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. Casting Lauren a teasing grin, she asked, “Where have you been hiding him? I didn’t know you were dating anyone—”
It suddenly dawned on Tara that the leash had gone slack. She did a quick twirl to locate Sugar and saw Emma holding out her ice cream cone. Sugar’s long tongue extended for a lick.
“Oh, no, honey, don’t do that!” Tara exclaimed. “She can’t have—”
At the sound of Tara’s voice, Sugar made a quick lunge and snatched the whole cone right from the little girl’s hand. She swallowed it in one mighty gulp. Oh, crap. Emma’s eyes went round, and her lower lip trembled as her eyes filled with tears.
“Sugar,” Tara admonished in a stern voice, pulling on the leash as Emma started to cry. After they’d backed up a few steps, Tara said, “I’m sorry.”
Tara glared at the dog and silently groaned with frustration. Her brother’s psycho dog was lactose intolerant. It was only a matter of time before that cone came back up, along with the bits of deep fried cheese curds, French fries, cotton candy, hot dog buns, elephant ears and even a piece of a corn cob that Sugar had inhaled off the ground over the past hour. She’d promised her mom a break from the airbrushing booth at seven, but now the best bet would be to get Sugar out of here. No one wanted to be around when those fireworks went off.
Lauren crouched down and ruffled Emma’s hair. “It's okay, baby, I'll get us another one.”
“Let me get it,” Tara said.
Emma’s cries subsided. “Sassy doggie.”
Tara whole-heartedly agreed as she reached into her pocket for some money.
“Really, Tara, it’s no big deal,” Lauren protested.
Tara tossed a five to the guy at the custard stand. “Actually, Charlie will pay me back, so I insist.” And it was a big deal, because now she wouldn’t get to watch the real fireworks—her favorite part of the whole fair. Well, except for elephant ears. Which she wouldn’t get either. She shot an envious glance toward Max and Caleb, who’d just reached the front of the funnel cake line.
Reining in her disappointment, Tara leaned down toward Emma. “Sorry about that, sweetie. We’ll go now so she doesn’t try to steal the next one. I’ll see you later for that trim, Lauren—and the full scoop on that one.” She tilted her head in Caleb's direction while backing up. Lauren laughed and waved goodbye, along with Emma.
Tara inhaled the tantalizing scent of deep fried batter as she passed the food stand and was just annoyed enough with Sugar that she managed to wrangle her in the direction she wanted to go. At the tattoo booth, she watched her mom finish spraying pink paint over a stencil taped to a pregnant woman’s belly. When Jackie Russell carefully peeled the plastic away, Tara couldn’t help but grin at the alternating pink and blue baby feet dancing across the woman’s stretched skin.
“Cute. Hey, Mom, how’s it going?”
Jackie looked up from rinsing out her brush, then glanced at her watch. “You’re early.”
Tara’s grin faded. “Yeah, well—”
Her mother nodded toward Tara’s left arm. “That’s not wearing off, is it? Do you need me to touch it up?”
She looked down at the artwork on her arms. “They’re fine. Besides, we’ve got a problem.”
Her mom raised one eyebrow.
“Sugar stole Emma Frasier’s ice cream cone.”
“Oh, crap,” Jackie said.
Exactly.
“Vanilla or chocolate?”
“I think it was a twist.” Tara frowned. “What does it matter?”
Jackie chuckled. “Just wondering what’s coming back up.”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Oh, it’s so much more than the cone. I’ll take her home so you and Dad can stay after you close.”
“I hate to do that to you, but it’d probably be for the best. As busy as we’ve been, we might end up working through the fireworks, anyway.” She located the design for the kid next in line and began to prepare his skin where he wanted the faux tattoo applied. “Keep her out of the house, will you?” Jackie added.
“Of course.” Tara pulled Sugar closer as they exited the tent. “I’ll see you tomorrow—or later if Charlie gets home in time for me to come back.”
“I should’ve made your brother get his own place when he got that dog,” Jackie muttered.
Tara scoffed under her breath and started in the direction of her parents’ home, just a block away from her own two-bedroom ranch. Charlie would live at home until the day he got married, and her mother not only knew it, she loved it. Another reason Tara didn’t quite fit in. Even though she’d already been twenty-six when she bought her home two years ago, her parents had seen no reason for her to move out. They’d argued that they had more than three thousand square feet and could save her all that money on a house payment.
Though if she thought about it, that made them strange, not her. They really were the most contradictory people, tattooed Harley fanatics with an empty nest phobia. Parents were supposed to want their children to move out so they could enjoy The Good Years, not stay forevermore.
She suspected, deep down, it had a lot to do with Annabel, but Tara couldn’t change the past. No matter what she did, or didn’t do for that matter, nothing would bring her sister back.
Lost in thought, a hard tug on her arm nearly pulled Tara off her feet. She regained her balance with a few quick steps, but Sugar lunged again.
This time she got free.
Chapter 2
Wes Carter took another bite of his hamburger and surveyed the baseball diamond in front of him as he savored the flavor of his cheap burger with ketchup and mustard. If the number of men on the far side of the field were any indication, they were planning quite the pyrotechnics display for later tonight. He might just have to hang around for that, he hadn’t watched fireworks in years.
He’d had a feeling about this town when he’d read the business listings on the Internet—and not only because of the name. Further research revealed Redemption to be just what he was looking for.
Well, except for the stalker with the dog.
A wry grin lifted his lips as he scanned the immediate area. It looked like he’d finally lost her. During the few glances he’d snuck, he’d noticed her trim figure in shorts and sexy tank, with just the right amount of curves up top, and a bouncing ponytail of shiny black hair that would reach all the way down her back when set free. He loved long hair.
But whoa, he was getting off track. Between the bikers he’d seen her chumming with, and the tatts on her arms, she appeared to walk farther on the wild side than he was comfortable with these days. Hell, she even had one on her neck…her slim, delicate, tanned neck. Wild. Maybe crazy was more like it the way she’d followed him around with that hulking monster of a dog.
Wild and crazy, and pretty to boot…he felt a little zing nip at his pulse. Yeah, he was the crazy one now. He was done with women like that, and, yes, he knew all about them, he’d grown up with them. A twinge of pain in his back made him wince, despite the fact the sensation remained only in his head. Though the wound had healed weeks ago, it kept reminding him of all he’d left behind—the big city fast track with the crime and the gangs.
No more looking over his shoulder, and wild women didn’t fit into the nice, quiet, stable life he planned to build in this town. No matter how pretty they were.
“Sugar! Heel!”
Wes started to look over his shoulder at the sound of that sharp command called out so close behind him, but he never made it past the pitching mound. Next thing he knew, he laid face first in the grass, his hamburger smashed against his chest and a heavy weight on his back. He turned his head to the side so he could breath and something wet and warm doused his face from chin to eyebrow.
“Ugh,” he managed, concluding pretty quick that a dog stood on his back—a large, whining, panting monster of a dog. He hunched a shoulder and wiped the slobber as best he could, but the beast did it again.
“Oh, God, I’m sorry.”
He twisted his head to look in the direction of the voice. Slim ankles and tanned legs registered before that side of his face got swiped. That’s it—he preferred to eat dirt.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman continued, “she just pulled right—”
“Get it off me,” he said into the grass.
“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
Wes turned his head with a frustrated growl, which only excited the dog into a licking frenzy. Its massive paws dug into his shoulder blades as Wes clenched his teeth to keep its tongue out of his mouth.
“Get. It. Off.”
“Oh, right, sorry.” He felt her tug on the leash. “Sugar, heel.”
He mentally rolled his eyes. Obviously, that was a useless command.
“Sugar, come on. Here, baby. Sugar.”
The dog went still and made a sound deep in its throat. Wes frowned when the animal did it again. That’s when it dawned on him the woman’s pleas had become urgent.
“No, Sugar. Off. Sugar! Come!”
That didn’t sound good. He fought to free his arms from under his body and succeeded just as the brute made a horrible retching noise and something spilled onto his back—something very liquid-y and warm that spread even as it seeped through his clothes.
“Sugarrrrrr,” the woman groaned.
Silence fell except for the dog’s panting.
Wes felt his own stomach rebel. “Tell me a dog didn’t just puke on my back.”
“I am so sorry. She stole Emma’s ice cream cone, but she’s lactose intolerant and I was trying to get her home, but then she saw you and…well…”
He realized the dog’s weight no longer held him down and pushed up onto his knees before sitting back on his heels. As he looked down at the ketchup and mustard semicircle staining his white shirt, he heard pieces of upchuck plop onto the grass behind him. The dog began to gag again. He wanted to gag.
Wes shrugged out of his suit jacket and held it up to survey the damage as he stood. The woman shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head and leaned to the side to look with him. Her eyes were wide as she held a hand over her mouth—and nose—and stared at the dog vomit dripping from his jacket. He gave an uncomfortable squirm at the feel of his shirt plastered to his back, because he hadn’t been sweating that bad.
“Well, this is just great.” He shook his head. “Now what—”
The dog lurched forward. Wes jumped back, flinging his arms wide, but not before more puke streamed onto his dress shoes. Hands batted at his left arm so hard his jacket went flying.
“Ewww…oh, God.”
When he’d tried to avoid the dog, he’d swung his wet jacket against the front of the woman. Now she looked like she might get sick herself.
“Sorry,” he muttered, though it served her right.
“Not your fault.” She tried to hold her top away from her skin with a thumb and forefinger. “Oh, man, I can’t believe this.” She put her other hand on her hip and glared at the dog. “Sugar, bad dog.”
The dog barked and rose from her sitting position with her tail wagging.
The absurdity of the entire situation finally struck him, and Wes burst out laughing. The woman looked up, her eyes wide again, probably wondering if he’d lost his mind. She blinked at him a few times and that zing stung again, working its way along his nerves and making him very aware of her striking beauty now that he’d gotten a close up look. Her eyes were a very pretty velvet brown, framed by long black lashes.
Quiet life, not biker babes, he reminded himself.
His humor subsided to a chuckle when he glanced down at his stained shirt and pants. “I don’t have any other clothes.”
“Me neither, but I’m on my way home. I’m sorry you’ll have to make a separate trip home and back.”
“I flew into Green Bay this afternoon, and the airline lost my luggage,” Wes clarified. “I literally don’t have any other clothes.”
“Ooh… Well, that explains it.” Her head tilted, the beginning of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Even for an uptight lawyer, the suit was a bit much for the fair.”
Wes frowned. “I’m an investment broker, not a lawyer.”
“Sorry, lawyer was the first thing I thought of, and it kinda stuck.”
“That’s a little narrow-minded, don’t you think? I expected more from a small town—even from you.”
Her smile vanished. “What does that mean?”
Wes flicked his gaze to the barbed wire tattoo on her arm, and then he leaned closer while meeting her narrowed gaze. “If you dress the part, you usually are the part…Sugar.”
The dog Wes momentarily forgot leapt at his face. He received a big pink tongue across his mouth and stumbled back a step. Ugh. Wes spit to the side before wiping his mouth on his grass-stained sleeve. He frowned at the two of them, wondering who in the world named a dog Sugar.
“Keep a shorter leash on that thing, would you?”
The woman pulled the dog closer to her and commanded the animal to sit, which, surprisingly, she did. “Be nice to her, she can’t help that she fell in love with you.”
Wes stared for a disbelieving second. “What?” He looked at the dog. Her sorrowful brown eyes gazed up at him, her ears flat against her head. She blinked once, her tail wagging incessantly, her whole body wriggling. He looked back at the woman. She blinked, too, but her body remained still.
“She gets infatuated and follows people,” Miss Crazy said. Wes glanced down at her left hand. Miss Crazy indeed.
He backed up, bent over to scoop up his jacket, and then backed up some more. “Yeah, well, I’d say it’s been fun, but…”
She sighed and avoided his gaze. “I really am sorry.” She looked as if she’d say more, but then she just tugged on the leash. “Come on, Sugar, let’s go.”
Wes watched her drag the dog away, his heart beating a bit irregular, and feeling oddly disappointed. That was crazy. He wanted them to leave. Maybe he could get another hamburger. He looked down at the front of his shirt and rolled his eyes before his gaze focused on the crazy woman’s retreating back. The Great Dane moped behind her, turning its head to look at him with its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.
“Is that why you were following me?” Wes called out.
The woman paused, then turned, a surprising blush staining her cheeks. “You saw us?”
He snorted and pointed, palm up, indicating the animal at her side the size of a small horse. The woman laughed, a natural, unforced sound that sent a curl of warmth through his stomach.
“Sugar spotted you about an hour ago,” she admitted, stroking the top of the dog’s head.
“Love at first sight?” He cringed at the stupid joke, but it was the first thing that’d popped into his head.
“For Sugar it is.”
Something about the way she said that. “You don’t believe in it?”
Her gaze met his before bouncing away. “Kinda hard to swallow, don’t you think? That two people could fall in love that fast?”
Wes’s heart thumped. Yeah, ridiculous notion, love at first sight. He fiddled with his smelly jacket. The girl backed up a step, then stopped.
“You know, I only live a few blocks away if you want to get cleaned up.”
New definition of crazy: going to her house.
“You might even fit into some of Charlie’s—my brother’s—clothes.”
Ah, see now that sounded safe. She lived at home yet, and he could think of nothing better than getting out of these clothes. Well, except for…his gaze swept down and up, noting the sexy tank, low cutoffs, chain belt, and each of her tattoos. A quick shot of adrenaline left him tingling.
Crazy.
“You wouldn’t mind?” he asked, actually hoping she’d rethink an offer to a complete stranger and save him from himself.
“Of course not, especially since it’s our fault. My parents are here tonight, and Charlie’s working a double with the rescue squad—which is why I have Sugar—but I’m sure I can find something for you.”
He fell into step alongside her, but still tried to talk himself out of it. “I can just go to the store, I have a rental car—”
Her nose wrinkled. “You’ll get the car dirty, and besides, you can’t go smelling like that.”
How nice of her to remind him he stunk like dog barf. He’d been trying to ignore it. “You mean like you?” he tossed back with a half-grin.
“Yeah.” She glanced down at her shirt with a grimace, and he noticed her cheeks were pink again. It was cute, and so out of character with the tough girl persona that the tattoos and sexy tank top implied. Wes jerked his attention back to the sidewalk.
They didn’t say much on the way, but it really wasn’t that far. When she walked down a side path to the backyard gate of a huge two-story house, he followed with raised brows. Nice house, nice homey neighborhood. She must be the rebel child. He knew all about that, only he’d gone the opposite direction, from gang member to college student and now investment broker/financial planner.
His mother would’ve been proud, but his father would turn in his grave if he could see Wes now—if the stories he’d heard growing up were true. Rival gang members had knifed and shot Wes’s father when Wes was only four, so he didn’t remember much except what the brothers had told him of his father’s legend.
Miss Crazy Beautiful stood aside for him to go first, then latched the gate behind them and let Sugar loose. The dog bounded around the yard as they continued to the back patio.
She paused with a hand on the door. “I’ll be right back—what size shoes do you wear?”
“Ten and a half.”
So, he wasn’t invited in? Wes felt a familiar stab of resentment until common sense knocked him upside the head. What did he expect, she didn’t even know him. Come to think of it, she didn’t even know his—
“Between Dad and Charlie, I’ll find something.”
When the door clicked shut, Wes turned to face the yard again. The sun had dropped below the trees during their walk, but the temperature still held at a comfortable level. All other things aside, it seemed they were in for a nice summer night.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to unstick his cotton shirt from his back without success. Suddenly the smell and thought of what clung to his skin was too much, and he stipped the shirt over his head in one fluid motion. The arms caught until he yanked so hard the cuff buttons popped off. His squishy shoes and disgusting socks were next, and when he noticed chunks of food on the bottom of his pants, they followed.
And now that he’d finished his impulsive freak-out, he thought about when she came back outside. With a shrug, he decided big deal. If they’d met at the beach, he’d have been wearing pretty much the same thing. Of course, he never went to the beach, and now he had a bullet scar on his back.
He distracted himself by wondering if she wore bikinis or a one-piece.
Chapter 3
Tara reached to slide the patio door open, then paused at the sight of… Oh, God, she didn’t even know his name!
How about Sexy, with a capital S and full sizzle. He sat in a patio chair in his boxer shorts, watching Sugar’s antics with a hint of a smile on his face. A face that had taken her breath away earlier when he’d laughed and those incredible light blue eyes of his crinkled at the corners. Now, looking at the body, well, the man certainly had nothing to be shy about, that’s for sure. He must work out, or play sports—lots of fat-burning, muscle-building sports.
Then she spotted the tattoo on his right shoulder. Her stomach gave a funny little flip at the sight of a dragon head, blended in blue, purple, teal and green, spitting orange and red flames that wrapped around his bicep. Wow. Even from here, she could see the incredible artistry.
Hmm…maybe she could bring the Suit home. With her dad, any tiny advantage would help, and her mom simply loved beautiful art.
Tara fanned herself as she grinned, took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Sexy turned, and their eyes met. Heat climbed her neck as he rose to his feet, and she mentally instructed her gaze to stay above his chin and not stray to his tattoo, or that nicely defined chest, or his killer abs—crap.
She jerked her gaze up and heat blazed in her cheeks. “Um…”
“I couldn’t stand my shirt sticking to my back any longer.”
Had she complained? Tara shrugged her shoulders, then remembered they had a block to walk to her house. And if his back was sticky from Sugar’s—eww, poor guy. Which reminded her, she wanted to change. She held up the clothes and a pair of her dad’s size eleven tennis shoes.
“Do you want to take a shower first? My house is right down the block—”
He looked beyond her shoulder at the two-story structure behind her. “I thought this was your house.”
“It’s my parents’ house.” She tilted her head. “What, did you think I was going to have you hose off out here?”
He smiled, kicking her pulse into high gear. “I wasn’t sure.”
She rolled her eyes and extended Charlie’s jeans and black tee shirt toward him, somewhat disappointed those muscles and the beautiful tattoo would be covered up. Mostly the muscles, though. She directed her gaze back to his.
“So…shower?”
“That sounds great.” He took the clothes with one hand and extended his other. “Wes Carter, by the way.”
She laughed, reaching to accept his hand. “Tara Russell, and I was just—” Their palms connected and Tara lost her train of thought at the same moment her mouth went dry. “Um…”
“Tara,” he said as if testing her name. “Nice to meet you.” Then he chuckled and glanced over his shoulder. “Sugar…not so nice, but you’re okay.”
“Gee, thanks.” She didn’t want to let go of his warm hand, but pulled back just the same and jerked her head to the right. “My place is this way.”
He looked down at his boxers and bare feet with a grimace. “How far is it?”
“A block.” He looked indecisive, so Tara put her hands on her hips and scolded, “You know, I told you I’d be right back, no one asked you to strip.” Oh, but she was glad he had.
His gaze snapped up as his ears turned red. “Listen—that stuff was starting to get really ripe—”
“Easy, there, I’m only teasing. I completely understand.” Tara grinned and pointed to her own stained top. “Now, you coming or what? Everyone’s at the fair, anyway.”
“Yeah, sure.” He leaned down for his clothes, giving her a nice view of—Tara hurriedly looked for Sugar so Wes wouldn’t see where her gaze had focused.
“Any chance I can get a bag for these?” he asked.
“Of course.” Tara got the bag, then called for Sugar as he stuffed his clothes inside. The dog bounded up, prancing with endless energy as she licked Tara’s leg, then turned to swipe her tongue across Wes’s foot.
“All right, dog, enough with the tongue.”
Tara caught her collar and clipped the leash on. “Sorry. I’d leave her here, she’s Charlie’s dog, but she’s a bit destructive if she’s left alone. Separation anxiety.”
He stared at her like she was nuts. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I were,” she answered and led the way toward her house. “She’s a little…” she paused and leaned closer to whisper, “…psychotic.”
“No, really?” His brows rose and though he kept a straight face, there was a smile in his voice. “Never woulda guessed.”
The toe of her sandal caught on an uneven sidewalk crack, and Tara stumbled against him. Her breast brushed his arm before he grasped her elbow to steady her. “Whoa, you okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.” She fought a strong urge to lean into him.
The approaching rumble of a Harley brought her back to reality as they walked up to her front porch. The bike turned into her driveway and Tara unhooked Sugar, who raced to the motorcycle. Tara smiled not only at the dog’s antics, but because now that Charlie was here, she wouldn’t have to worry about Sugar slobbering on Wes anymore. The guy had obviously had enough.
She cast a glance at Wes, who eyed her brother with suspicion. Tara’s brows rose in surprise; he hadn’t even met him yet.
“Boyfriend?” Wes asked without looking away from Charlie.
Now she grinned. “Brother.”
Wes still didn’t relax. Especially when Charlie strode toward them with his chest puffed out, eyed Wes up and down, and asked in his gravelly voice, “What the hell is going on here?”
Tara rolled her eyes. “Charlie, this is Wes Carter, he’s in town from…” She glanced at Wes to supply the information.
“Denver.”
“Wes, this is my brother, Charlie Russell.”
They nodded at each other and shook hands, firmly, by the way they both leaned into it. Though he appeared a little more intense than usual, Charlie was being Charlie, and Wes…well, poor Wes stood there in his boxers and bare feet. Of course he had to act tough. Tara smiled pointedly at her brother as they released the handshake.
“Wes needs to take a shower because Sugar puked ice cream and you-don’t-even-want-to-know-what-else all over him at the fair.”
Charlie frowned in her direction, even as his nose wrinkled as if he could now smell the vomit. “You know she can’t have dairy.”
“Tell her that—she stole Emma Frazier’s cone.”
An odd look crossed Charlie’s face. Before Tara could wonder about it, he’d turned to Wes. “I’m sorry about that.”
Wes lifted his right shoulder, the one with the tattoo. “I don’t hold a grudge. Besides, your sister’s apologized enough, and borrowed me some of your clothes.”
“That’s the least we can do,” Charlie said, his attention caught by the dragon. “Nice tatt.”
Wes looked uncomfortable and almost seemed to angle it away from Charlie’s view. “Thanks—so are yours.”
Tara watched Charlie lift his shirtsleeve to show off an eagle with the American Flag on its outstretched wing. She was so used to seeing his multitude of tattoos, she barely noticed them anymore, and couldn’t remember if it was new.
“Our mom has a shop in downtown Green Bay,” Charlie said.
“Nice work.” Wes glanced at Tara, his gaze shifting to her neck. “She do yours, too?”
“Yep.”
Charlie opened his mouth, but Tara cut him a quick look. “Are you done for the night?” When he nodded, she shoved the leash at him. “Good, then Sugar’s all yours. And you owe me five bucks for replacing Emma’s ice cream.”
Charlie wound the leash around his hand and tightened it into a fist. He looked at Tara, then at Wes. “What’s going on tonight?”
Oh, come on, not again, darn him. “Charlie—”
“As soon as I wash your dog’s puke off, I’m going back to my motel,” Wes responded.
Tara fought a wave of disappointment. Stupid brother. She wanted to wrap that leash around his neck and pull hard. Instead, she acted as if everything was just fine. “And I’m going back to watch the fireworks.”
“Are you meeting Roger, or any of the girls?”
Tara really wanted to kill him now, making it sound like Roger was more than just a friend. “Mic and Tracy are in Chicago this weekend, and Roger had a date. I guess my consolation prize would be you, dear brother, you wanna come?” she asked, her voice full of honey.
He glanced toward where Sugar circled his bike, nose to the ground, then looked at Tara with suspicion. “You know she chases the fireworks.”
Tara gave him a tight smile. “Yeah…oh, well. It’ll be nice having the blanket all to myself. Good night, Charles.” She didn’t wait for him to acknowledge her dismissal as she turned to unlock her door.
“Don’t forget, I’m only four houses down,” he said. Tara clenched her jaw until she heard the Harley roar to life.
“What the…?”
Wes’ disbelieving question made her turn around to find him staring after her brother. Sugar sat on the front of the bike in Charlie’s lap as he peered around her big head and drove down the street. Tara shook her head and flipped on the living room and porch lights.
“I told you, she’s psychotic.”
In the added light, Wes’s muscled back compared favorably with his bare chest. Tara frowned as she noticed a pink puckered circle of skin to the left of his spine, just above his boxer’s waistband, but he turned before she could figure out exactly what it was. She stepped inside so he wouldn’t notice she’d been staring.
He walked past her. “Psychotic is an understatement.”
She shut the door and turned around to get a closer look at the scar on his back. But as she wondered what’d happened, he stood with his back to the wall, checking out her house. There wasn’t much to see: living room, kitchen, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms down the hall. It was small, but it was hers, which made it perfect. Glad she’d cleaned that morning, she led him though the living room and down the hall.
“You can use this bathroom; there are towels under the sink,” she told him after opening the door and then continuing toward her room. “I’ve gotta get this thing off.”
“Thanks.”
She plucked at her shirt, wrinkling her nose. She lifted the hem as she walked, pulling it over her head before she realized she hadn’t heard the bathroom door click shut behind her. Heart pounding, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see the door close. Relief left a tingle in her veins. What had she expected, that he’d be right there, ready to jump her?
No, he seemed like an all-around nice guy, and besides, Charlie had been about as subtle as a Harley.
Still, she locked her bedroom door before going into her private bathroom to wash up and change—one didn’t have to be completely stupid. She replaced her black tank with a more conservative white one and a thin red sweater, her shorts with a pair of faded jeans, and kept the same sandals. After brushing her hair, she decided to leave it down, then dabbed on some perfume just in case.
The shower was still on when she walked down the hall past the guest bathroom, so she retrieved the bag of clothes Wes had left on the porch and headed for the basement. The phone rang on her way back through the kitchen and she picked up the cordless handset.
“Why hasn’t he left yet?” her brother demanded when she answered.
“Geez, Charlie, he’s still in the shower.”
“He better be out of there in five minutes.”
She drew in a deep, controlled breath. “This is exactly the reason I moved out.”
“You don’t even know who this guy is, Tara.”
“I’d like the chance to find out, at least. I’m not sixteen, and I’m not stupid.”
I’m not Annabel. She didn’t say it, but from the silence on Charlie’s end, she knew their sister was on his mind, too. Tara felt bad, she missed her like hell, too, but she was tired of paying for Annabel’s mistakes.
“Did you know Lauren started dating someone?” Charlie asked abruptly.
His wounded tone caught her off guard. “Not until I ran into her earlier tonight, why?”
“No reason.” But the casual brush-off came a beat too late. Sympathy melted Tara’s resentment as she realized Charlie liked Lauren. No wonder he’d been wearing his hair shorter the past couple months.
“Charlie—”
“Like I said, five minutes.”
He hung up on her, and she sighed as she continued downstairs to treat the ketchup and mustard stains on Wes’ white dress shirt. She set it to soak before starting a load with her black tank and his dark pants and suit jacket. The tags instructed dry clean only, but no way would that cut it. If she was careful, it’d be fine.
His wallet and car rental keys had been in his pants pocket, so she picked them up to take upstairs with her. Curiosity gnawed at her, but she resisted snooping until she reached the top of the stairs. Just a peek—to see how old he was. She opened the wallet, scanned his driver’s license quick, then flipped it closed again, feeling like a nosey jerk.
Westin Carter was thirty-one, lived in Denver as he’d said, and he was an organ donor. Picturing him in the suit, that didn’t surprise her. But the tattooed, boxer-clad hottie didn’t seem the type to put an orange sticker on his license.
Tara frowned at herself. She was doing the same thing he’d done earlier—judging him by his outward appearance when she knew better than anyone that the surface could conceal a lot. He’d pointed out she dressed like a wild woman so she must be one, but he didn’t know she’d only been in costume, or the fact that she’d probably never find the guts to follow through in real life. Letting a stranger take a shower in her home was the craziest thing she’d done in her unexciting life.
She closed the basement door, then jumped at the sight of Wes striding down the hall, so tall and handsome, dressed in her brother’s tee shirt and jeans. She gave him a casual once over, thinking the clothes looked so much better on Wes.
“Everything fit okay?” she asked while handing over his personal items with a slightly shaky hand. Guilt for snooping or nervousness over her strong attraction to the man? Either way, she attempted to ignore both.
He pocketed the items and lifted a shoulder. “They’re a little snug, but not uncomfortable.”
And that’s why they looked better on Wes.
Chapter 4
How was she sexier in jeans and a cover-all, zip-up sweater than shorts and a skimpy tank top? Wes wondered. Maybe because now she looked more like the kind of woman he’d decided he should date, than the untamed biker chic that turned him on.
Either way, it was no good. He knew what the red sweater concealed, and that small rose tattoo on her neck still peeked out from under the collar despite the curtain of black hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders. It looked so silky smooth he wanted to step over there and—
He cleared his throat. “I should get going.”
She nodded, turning to swipe up a towel off the counter and hang it on the oven door. “I put your clothes in the wash. If you stop by in the morning, they’ll be good as new.”
He opened his mouth to thank her, but then remembered something. “That suit is dry clean.” She spun back around and put her hand on her hip in a gesture that he recognized from when she’d scolded the dog earlier. Another bad sign—that he remembered it.
“What, you think I don’t know how to clean anything but leather?”
Her defensiveness revealed his earlier comment had bothered her, and now he felt bad. “I didn’t say that.”
“Your suit will be fine,” she assured him.
“Okay…I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yep.”
He started for the door, only to find himself pausing before he reached it. “Are you going back to the fair now?”
“I have a few things to do here first.” She blinked at him with those brown eyes. “Why?”
Because he wanted to spend more time with her, and if he walked her back, he might try to get an invitation to share her blanket for the fireworks. Not a good idea.
“Just wondering,” he said. He made it as far as the porch on his second attempt to leave. As the fresh night air whispered across his bare arms and fireflies blinked in her front yard, he turned back around. “It’s almost dark, you should call your brother to walk with you.”
She stood inside the door. “It’s only a few blocks, it’s no big deal.”
Wes shifted forward to brace a hand against the doorframe. “So this town is one hundred percent crime free?” He caught the faint scent of perfume and backed up again.
“No, but I happen to have a few moves,” she joked with a small smile. “You want to see ‘em?”
He gave a short laugh, holding up a hand while his mind went in a completely different, sensual direction. “No, that’s all right. Call your brother.”
She rolled her eyes at his concern. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his brows.
Finally, she huffed, “Okay, fine, I’ll call him.”
“Thank you.” Before giving in to any of the crazy ideas floating around in his head, he stepped off the porch and didn’t look back.
Down the block near her family’s house, he caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw her brother get up off the porch to walk toward him. Wes tensed with the realization that the guy had been watching for him. At least this time he wasn’t at a disadvantage in boxers and bare feet. He stopped, but waited for Charlie to open the conversation.
“I’m only going to say this once. Stay away from my sister.”
He’d planned on doing exactly that, but Charlie’s challenging tone set Wes straight on the offensive. “It’s really none of your business.”
Charlie stepped closer. Wes clenched his fists, automatically sizing up his opponent to find Charlie equally prepared. Then the guy glanced at Wes’s arm. “Your tatt there says it is. I’ve seen it before at a bike rally in Detroit, and you guys are bad news.”
Wes’s anger dissipated, replaced by bitterness that even in small-town America he couldn’t escape his past. He nodded his agreement with Charlie’s statement. “They are, which is why I got the hell out about eight years ago and moved to Denver.”
Charlie didn’t look convinced.
Wes sighed with resignation and wished he’d kept the dog-puke shirt on earlier. “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble. Tara only helped out ‘cuz of your dog. She’s nice and all, but not really my type.”
Not anymore.
Charlie eyed him for a long moment before he backed off. “Just so we’re clear.”
“We’re clear,” Wes assured him. Crystal.
Wes picked up his pace. A few more houses down, he noticed a couple guys in lawn chairs, surrounded by a dozen or more beer cans, with rap music blaring from inside the garage. Glancing back toward Tara’s house, he realized she’d walk right past before turning toward the fairgrounds. He paused. This was her neighborhood, she probably knew the guys…hell, for all he knew, she might even join them.
Still, his conscience wouldn’t let him leave without knowing she’d called her brother as she’d agreed. His instincts proved spot-on when about five minutes later when she walked past her parents’ house without pause. The overprotective Charlie didn’t come out to meet her, either.
Away from the air conditioning of her home, he saw she’d unzipped the red sweater, revealing a white tank underneath. Wes waited across the road, thinking he’d follow until she reached the fair, to make sure she remained safe while avoiding temptation and maintaining a clear head at a safe distance.
Across the road, one of the guys by the garage looked over his shoulder, then nudged the other to turn around.
“Hey, baby doll,” the blond one called out. “Bring that blanket on over here.”
He got to his feet while grinning at his buddy. Tara simply clutched her blanket closer and walked faster while keeping her gaze focused straight ahead. Wes scoffed under his breath. Nice moves, independent idiot.
Blondie started toward her, and Wes straightened from where he’d been leaning against the tree. Son of a bitch little punks. He didn’t care if she was tough enough to handle herself, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“What’s the rush, babe?”
Wes crossed the street and beat the guy to Tara’s side by about five feet. She jumped a foot when he put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her against his side. “Sorry I’m late.”
He planted a kiss on her surprised mouth, ignored the urge to align his body to her curves and dive in for more, and turned his full attention to the creep on the lawn. “We’re on our way to the fireworks, that’s the rush.”
Blondie backed off, holding his hands up in front of him. Smart punk. Wes kept hold of Tara and urged her forward. After a few yards, she tried to shake his arm off. “What was that?”
Wes held on. “It’s called saving your butt, Sugar,” he said in her ear. “You’re welcome.”
“My butt didn’t need saving, Sugar.”
“They’re half drunk,” he said with exasperation. “And you were supposed to call your brother.”
“He didn’t answer.”
Because he’d been outside, protecting her from the danger of Wes. There was irony for you.
“Besides,” she added, “they’re all talk. I ignore them, and they eventually leave me alone.”
Wes’s step faltered. He swung her around as renewed anger pulsed through him. “This happens often?”
She barely met his gaze before looking past his shoulder. “They’ve never done more than shoot their mouths off. It’s no big deal.”
He forced his grip to remain light on her arms. “You ever tell your brother?”
She shook her head, and Wes wanted to shake her.
“Some day they’re gonna step over the line,” he predicted.
He’d seen it often when he was younger. Left unchecked, guys like that got a little braver each time, went a little farther until the next step came naturally to them. But the thought of one of them putting a hand on her brought the darkness deep inside Wes boiling to the surface. He released her to spin around in the direction they’d come from.
When he crossed onto the lawn, Tara caught his arm from behind. “What are you doing?”
He jerked free. “Making sure that day never comes.”
“Wes—”
The rap music covered their approach. About the time the blond guy saw Wes, he kicked the chair out from underneath the dark-haired one. One quick step and Wes had him pinned to the ground with his foot.
He intended to simply scare them enough to make his warning stick in their heads after the booze wore off, but then Blondie started forward, his hands balanced in front of him. Behind him, Tara gasped at the same time Wes caught a flash of steel and recognized the danger. When the guy swung at Wes with the knife, Wes ducked with an inch to spare, grabbed the hand with the weapon, and twisted his wrist until he dropped the weapon.
Blondie fell to his knees with a gasp of pain, but Wes didn’t let go yet. “You two are going to leave the lady alone from now on—got it? Don’t talk to her, don’t even look at her. Understand?”
The one pinned to the ground nodded fast, his eyes bulging in his face. Wes let up a little with his foot and looked at the one on his knees. He hadn’t answered yet, so Wes applied more pressure to his wrist. The guy cried out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Wes growled.
“We’ll leave her alone,” he gasped.
“Make sure all your friends get the message. I won’t be so nice the next time.”
They both nodded quick enough to satisfy him, so he released them, stooped to get the knife, and stepped away. His body hummed with adrenaline, and he took a deep breath to calm down, amazed at how quick it all came back.
He saw Tara standing a few feet away, looking shocked. Her gaze shifted from the guys picking themselves off the ground to Wes as he folded the switch blade and tucked it in his pocket. She backed up, then turned and hurried down the sidewalk, the blanket swinging from one hand, the sides of her red sweater flapping outward with each step.
Wes jogged after her, not knowing what to say, feeling bad that he’d frightened her. He kinda scared himself now that he thought about it, but on the plus side, they should leave her alone.
“He had a knife,” he heard her say as he drew alongside. She shot him a sideways look from wide brown eyes, and he forgot what he was going to say. Two steps later, she asked, “Who are you?”
He knew who he wanted to be, and was afraid of who he used to be, but it wasn’t as if he could get into all that with her, so he ignored the question. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”
She stopped walking. “You scared them, is what you did.”
“That was the point. You shouldn’t have to deal with jerks like that...” He trailed off at the expression of awe on her face. It dawned on him she wasn’t scared, she was impressed. Oh, man, what had he done?
“You’re a nice guy, Westin Carter.”
When she stepped toward him with a smile, Wes held up his hands and backed up. “Listen, I only meant to warn them. Don't make me out to be a hero just because I did what was necessary after he pulled the knife.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She strolled past with her smile firmly in place. “You’ve got a good track record so far.”
“Don’t bet on it,” he muttered as they approached the fair grounds. Okay, she was back safe in the company of other people. Time for him to go. His step slowed, but she kept walking and talking, raising her voice above the carnival music and hundreds of people having fun.
“You took the Sugar incident better than anyone I can imagine, you handled Charlie’s porch inquisition just fine, and then you rescued me from my habitual harassers. Three outta three qualifies for hero status in my book.”
“Tara—”
She laughed. “A bona-fide knight in shining armor.”
Wes planted his feet. “Tara.”
She turned around, a good five strides in front of him. “Relax, I’m just teasing you.” When he didn’t move, she asked, “What? Aren’t you coming?”
She motioned toward the baseball field with her head, her black hair shimmering in the flashing lights of the Ferris wheel behind her. Someone bumped into him from behind, then apologized when Wes glanced around with a frown. Realizing he’d have to yell to be heard above the noise, Wes moved closer to Tara, just not too close.
“I think I’m gonna go.”
Her brows arched high above those beautiful brown eyes. “You won’t stay for the fireworks?”
He shifted his gaze again, looking anywhere but at her. If he looked at her, he’d end up staying, and he’d already determined that wasn’t a good idea. Heck, even her brother Charlie knew that.
“Seriously?” she asked. “After what just happened you’re going to make me sit all by myself in the dark?”
Guilt. How effective even though he didn’t owe her a damn thing. He opened his mouth to argue that it wouldn’t be all that dark what with the fireflies and fireworks, and she’d hardly be by herself, but then he noticed her lips twitch.
He narrowed his eyes and countered, “I thought you wanted the blanket all to yourself.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “It’s a big blanket, I don’t mind sharing.”
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