a mind to see to our unfinished business.”
“Do we have unfinished business?” she asked, backing away.
He followed. She stayed. “Cardin? Toying?”
“Now that you mention it, there is something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”
“So ask me.” He was willing to give her any answer she wanted as long as it meant he could touch more of her, and do so with something other than his denim-covered thighs.
“It’s about Tater’s kegger.”
“What about it?” As if he didn’t know.
“When I saw you…” She let the sentence trail and backed into the rear wall of the ice house.
“With Kim?”
She nodded. “What were you thinking?”
Hands at his hips, he snorted. “There wasn’t much thinking going on there.”
“I know that, but I’ve always wondered if your mind wasn’t on me…instead of Kim.”
What was he supposed to say to that? Admit the truth? Tell her that he had trouble remembering that Kim had been there at all? That his mind saw only the look of fascination that had been on her face? That even now he could feel how firm her breasts, how hard her nipples had felt against his chest?
“I’m thinking about you now. That’s all that matters.” He pressed his body to hers finally—finally!—raising her hands and pinning them to the wall. Then he lowered his head and nuzzled his cheek to her jaw, finding her earlobe and nipping it, nipping it again when she groaned.
“It’s softer than I thought it would be. Your beard stubble.”
The last time they’d been this close, he’d been fresh from the shower. “I need to shave.”
“No. Don’t. Not until I get a chance to feel more.”
This time Trey was the one to groan. Two sleeping bags zipped together. Her skin smelling like the sun. Crap on a pinhead, and he was supposed to wait? “Are you talking about now? Or are you talking about tonight?”
“I’m talking about anytime you want me.”
Chapter 4
IF CARDIN WASN’T CAREFUL, kissing Trey Davis was going to become her favorite pastime, and she would forget all the other things she needed his help to accomplish. But right now? All she wanted was this kiss.
Like the one in the Corley trailer, this one wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t be; it was stolen, desperate, next to a Dumpster against the ice house’s back wall. Anyone could come along at any moment…
She increased the pressure of her lips on his, pulling him in, needing him nearer to have her way. His mouth was warm, tasting of butter and salt and yeasty beer. His hands holding hers above her head were possessive and strong, and being his captive thrilled her.
He angled his head in one direction, she angled hers the other, fitting against him to deepen the tangle of their tongues, the crush of their lips. The heat deepened, too, as did the beating of hummingbird wings in her belly.
He saw to the close fit of everything else; the threading of their fingers, her hands pressed to the wall, the in and out weaving of their thighs, their flush torsos. She felt as if she was the tiniest thing beneath him, hiding in the shadow of his shoulders, disappearing behind his breadth.
He felt like hard work, and smelled like clean clothes and fresh country air. He was everything a girl could want in a guy, and more than most would get. He was decent, honest, a good man. She’d wanted him since high school, and was close to admitting she had been a little in love with him all this time.
She nuzzled his ear, whispered, “Trey?”
“Hmm?”
“Will you marry me?”
TREY JUMPED BACK AS IF Cardin had jabbed him with a cattle prod. Not exactly the response she’d hoped for, but then he hadn’t given her time to explain.
“That didn’t come out exactly right,” she heard herself saying, though she supposed even had she used the words she’d carefully thought through and planned for her proposal, it would still have been an unexpected shock.
“I goddamn hope not,” Trey said, his hands at his hips, the furrow of his frown deep enough to get lost in. “Marriage is the last thing I’m looking for.”
“Oh, me either,” she hurried to assure him, thinking the frown and the “goddamn” were a little over the top.
He blinked, blinked again. Shook his head. “You just proposed.”
“You’re right. I did.” She held up one hand, then rolled her fingers into a fist of frustration, wondering if punching herself would help. She didn’t want to screw this up any more than she already had. “But it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“So you didn’t mean it?” Trey rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “It just…slipped out?”
Oh, yeah. This was going just great. She blew air up into her bangs. “Let me try this again. Trey, how would you feel about posing as my fiancé while you’re here? No permanent strings. No hard feelings when you leave.”
He was looking at her as if she’d grown a second head. “I’m going to need a whole lot more than that before I can figure out what you’re asking here, much less give you an answer. Is there a beginning where you can start? I mean, with our families’ history, who would believe for a minute that you and I were engaged?”
Their families’ recent history was at the root of as many of his problems as her own. She was Juliet to his Romeo. A Hatfield to his McCoy. But right now, her family was at risk of imploding. “If I start at the beginning, I’ll have to go back to the days when our great-grandfathers ran moonshine, so why don’t I start with the fight between your father and mine?”
Trey’s scowl darkened. “The one where Eddie got all busted up?”
“Exactly,” Cardin said. “A broken hip, a broken leg. Pins holding him together.”
Trey went on the defensive. “Even Eddie said that was an accident.”
“Guess what? I don’t care. All I know is my family went nuts after the fight. No one talks about anything except work, and they only do that while at work.” She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes for a moment, hoping to stave off the stress headache bearing down.
It didn’t work. Surprise, surprise. Her temples pounding, she went on. “It’s like Headlights is one big eggshell now, and I can’t deal with it anymore. I just can’t. If things don’t get back to some semblance of normal, I’ll have to leave town before I lose what’s left of my mind. Seriously.”
“And since my father was involved, you want me to help you settle your family’s feud?”
“Give the man a cigar,” she said, and punched him in the shoulder.
Frowning, he rubbed at the injury that really wasn’t one. “How long is this engagement thing going to take you to explain? I’ve got to get back to the Speedway and pack up the hauler. The team’s hitting the road at first light.”
Wow. He hadn’t said no. Initial hurdle cleared. “It’ll take longer than either one of us has now, that’s for sure.”
“My place tonight, then?” he asked after studying her for several long seconds, the light returning to his eyes, the dimples to his cheeks. “Or was the offer to help me mock foreplay? You know, to get me on board with the mock engagement?”
“What time do you want me there?” was her only response. She didn’t think it would be a very good idea to talk