Convincing Cara (Wishing Well, Texas Book 2) (3 page)

“I think it might have been the shots at the Tipsy Cow that really did you in,” I pointed out.

“I took shots at the Tipsy Cow?” she asked, sounding genuinely stunned.

“Yeah. Several.”

“I don’t even remember being there. The last thing I remember was dinner at Don Julio’s and then waking up and you being in my kitchen. Were you at the Cow? How many shots did I take?”

“I’m not sure. Bryson called JJ after he cut y’all off to see if he could come get Harmony. Hudson and I were with him, so we offered to go help. JJ took Destiny home. Hud took care of Harmony, and I took you home.”

“Okay, obviously I get why JJ took care of Destiny…” Cara shook her head from side to side, her brow furrowed. “But why didn’t you take Harmony home and Hudson take me home? Or you could have taken both of us to Harmony’s house.”

Right. Yeah, of course the JJ-and-Destiny thing was easy to figure out. My brother had just retired from playing major league ball, moved home to Wishing Well, and set his sights on Destiny. She’d always had a thing for JJ, and come to find out the feeling was mutual. My big bro had just fought his feelings for a long time because of their six-year age difference and his career. But, once he’d turned his attention to winning her over, it hadn’t taken long. Within a month, they were married and she was expecting their first child.

Now, I just had to figure out how to explain the other two pairings. The truth was Hud, JJ and I hadn’t discussed who was going to deal with whom. When we’d shown up at the bar, I’d headed straight towards Cara, JJ had done the same with Destiny, and Hudson had stalked across the bar and was pulling Harmony off the stool before I even had Cara, who was cooperating a lot more than my sister, up off her seat.

Shrugging, I told the truth. “It just kind of worked out that way. When we got there and I saw that Hudson was dealing with Harmony, I figured, since he had the law on his side, he could handle her.”

Hudson Reed had just been promoted to deputy sheriff of Clover County. His father, Jasper Reed, was the sheriff, but Hud hadn’t gotten the job out of any kind of nepotism. He’d worked his ass off.

“Oh, so you just got the short end of the stick.” Cara laughed, the same self-deprecating laugh she always did, like when she’d had to shave her head at age fourteen and she made jokes about it. “Sorry about that.”

Shit. No way in hell did I want her to think that I “had got the short end of the stick.” But our relationship wasn’t exactly on even ground at the moment, and I didn’t want to spook her. I’d waited damn near fifteen years to get a shot with Cara McCord. The last thing I wanted to do was strike out before I even got up to bat.

Deciding that I would pretend like she hadn’t been treating me like I’d had the plague the last month, I winked at her. “There’s no one I’d rather pick up from a bar than you, carrot cake.”

“Oh my gosh! I completely forgot you used to call me that!” Her entire face lit up. Smiling from ear to ear, she tilted her head as she asked, “Why did that start, again?”

It started because I wanted your attention
.

That fact might be a little bit
too
honest.

“My mom made that carrot cake, and at eight, you put down more of it than my teenage brothers.”

Her head fell back as laughter bubbled out of her. I was happy that I didn’t really have to pay too much attention to where I was driving on this service road because I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. The sheer joy on her face was captivating. Intoxicating. Mesmerizing.

That’s how it was with Cara. One second, I would think that I had my feelings for her under control. Then in the next, she would tilt her head, look away, sigh, smile, laugh, or blush and I would be stunned speechless. In an instant, she could pull me under her spell. Which was exactly what had happened that day out in the field. One moment, I’d been watching her running with Destiny and Harmony, and the next, all I could see was her angelically illuminated face.

Sometimes, when I looked at her, I honestly believed that God had created the sun just so he could shine it on Cara.

“Oh my gosh!” She wiped the moisture that had formed beneath her eyes from her laughter. “Did I ever tell you how sick I got from eating all that?”

“No. You got sick?”

“Oh yeah!” She nodded vigorously. “I didn’t think I would ever stop throwing up. It was even worse than my first round of chemo.”

At the mention of her treatment, the energy in the truck shifted. It was like a dark cloud had rolled in and was blocking Cara’s light.

I wished I knew what to say. I wished I knew how to put that smile back on her beautiful face. I wished I had the right words to lighten the heavy atmosphere.

“I still can’t believe that it’s really behind me,” Cara whispered softly—more to herself than to me—as she stared off as if she were a million miles away.

I was so focused on her that I didn’t steer away from the pothole just before her house. The truck jostled Cara as my left wheel dipped into the uneven surface and she slid towards me. I grabbed her leg to steady her as I pushed the brake.

When the truck rolled to a stop, I looked at where my hand was resting on Cara’s bare thigh and awareness shot through me like a bolt of electricity.

Not only had my hand landed much higher than I’d thought, but the feeling of her silky skin beneath my work-roughened fingers combined with the sight of my tan hand against her creamy fair skin was so fucking erotic. Tingles burst in my palm as my jeans grew snug.

For an all-too-brief moment in time, neither of us moved or spoke. We sat perfectly still, our labored breathing and my pounding heart the only sounds in the small, confined space. Without checking with my head (at least the one on my shoulders), I flexed my hold and watched as Cara’s skin dipped beneath my fingertips.

I barely registered the tremor that raced through Cara’s body before she shot out of the truck like a clown out of a circus cannon.

“Thanks for the ride!” she called out just before the door shut behind her.

As she disappeared into her house, I tried to figure out what the hell had just happened between us.

Never before had I felt so connected to another person. It was like our bodies were finely tuned to a frequency only the two of us were on. I wasn’t sure exactly how to describe it, but I did know one thing for certain: I was going to enjoy the hell out of exploring it. And, whether Cara knew it or not, she was too.

Cara

“Finding a good man is like tryin’ to bag flies.”

~ Dolly Briggs

“W
hy do they
call it morning sickness when it lasts all day?” Destiny sat on my couch, cuddled up with saltine crackers and 7UP.

“It’s a conspiracy to make pregnancy seem more appealing. If they called it what it really was, no one would get knocked up,” Harmony said from the kitchen, where she was pulling out the chocolate chip and walnut cookies Destiny was making. She was in the process of opening her bakery, Sugar Rush, and trying out a new recipe. And Harmony and I were all too eager to be taste-testers.

“Hopefully it will only last for a few more weeks. Isn’t the first trimester usually the worst?” I asked, knowing from experience that, when you had a light at the end of the tunnel, it helped keep spirits up.

Harmony used a spatula to place the cookies on cooling sheets. “That’s actually another myth perpetuated to make growing a human being inside of you sound more appealing. Sometimes, morning sickness lasts up until the day you give birth.”

“Wow. Are you doing Rachel Dratch’s Debbie Downer character from
SNL
? Because, if you are, you’re nailing it!” Destiny gave Harmony two thumbs up.

Harmony left her post at the kitchen counter as she licked a bit of melted chocolate off her thumb and shrugged unapologetically. “Hey, I just like to keep it real. Or
one hunnid
, as the kids say.”

Amused, Destiny asked, “Is that what the ‘kids’ are saying?

“Yep. And you better bone up on your lingo.” Harmony motioned to Destiny’s belly as she flopped into the overstuffed chair in the corner of my small front room.

Destiny rubbed her hand clockwise around her still-flat stomach. “I think I’ll leave the ‘lingo’ to you, Auntie Harmony.”

“Auntie Harmony,” Harmony repeated, a smile spreading on her face as she turned to me. “It has a nice ring to it. Can you believe we’re going to be aunties?”

“No.” I shook my head, a slight tug of melancholy pulling on my heart. “I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.”

The reality was Harmony was going to be an aunt. JJ was her brother.

Growing up, Harmony, Destiny, and I used to pretend we were sisters. Harmony had eight brothers, I had one, and Destiny’s mom had passed away at childbirth, which left her an only child. So none of us had sisters. Now, Harmony and Destiny actually were sisters.

“Okay, I think I’m starting to feel human again.” Destiny sat up straighter, set the glass tumbler of iced 7UP on the small end table beside her, and grabbed the pad of paper and pen she’d abandoned when she’d run to the bathroom about half an hour ago. “So, the list.”

“I really don’t think a list is necessary.” As much as I appreciated my friend’s eagerness to help me out, I didn’t see the point in writing down, in detail, everything I was looking for in a potential cherry-popper.

“Maybe it’s not necessary, but it is fun.” Destiny waggled her eyebrows. “And it’s taking my mind off the fact that I feel like I have the flu that will never end, so we’re doing it.”

All three of us were pretty stubborn. When one of us set our mind to something, it was best to buckle up and go along for the ride because resistance was futile.

“Fine.” I sank farther into the soft cushions of my sofa. “I want someone that doesn’t know me.”

Both of my friends stared at me blankly.

“I mean, someone that doesn’t know my past.”

What I actually wanted was a six-foot-three, sandy-haired, golden god of a cowboy who worked for my brother, was Harmony’s brother, and had hands that had practically given me an orgasm with one touch of my thigh. Whose name started with T and ended in E. But there was no way that was going to happen so, I’d decided to go with the exact opposite.

“You mean you don’t want them to know that you had…” Destiny started, but her voice trailed off.

“Had cancer?” I finished, trying to push down the irritation that was attempting to butt into our conversation.

I knew that it was hard for people in my life to know the right thing to say. From the time I’d received my devastating diagnosis, people had spoken in incomplete sentences or code when they discussed it…or even whispered and used hushed voices around me, like I couldn’t hear them.

Even now that I’d been labeled as “cancer-free,” it was like people were scared to say the word for fear it would show up again. Like the Boogeyman or Bloody Mary. As much as I appreciated everyone’s sensitivity, it was also frustrating. But I felt like a brat for being frustrated.

My family and my friends had been such a huge support. I couldn’t have survived the last decade without them. In my sophomore year, I wasn’t able to go to the talent show because of my white blood cell count, and the entire town put it on in my front yard. I’d watched from the picture window in my front room. I’d been so touched by what my community had done.

“You don’t want them to know that you were sick?” Destiny’s brow furrowed.

“No. I mean, obviously they’re going to know.” I pointed to my port scar. “I don’t want it to be something they saw me going through. I want to take a page from Harmony’s little black book and date people outside the small community of Wishing Well.”

Both of my friends nodded as they exchanged a look.

“Figuratively. Not literally. I don’t actually want to date people you have.” I rushed to clarify. I heard myself babbling. I knew I was doing it. Stopping, though? That was beyond my capabilities at the moment.

“No. I know what you mean. You want a clean slate,” Harmony assured me.

“Yes.”

Destiny scribbled something on her notepad and then looked up. “Okay, so no prior history. What else?”

“What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure what else there was.

“Age range. Height requirements. Occupation. Hair color. Eye color. Body type. Personality.” Destiny ticked off them off like they were the ABCs.

Which maybe they were the ABCs of dating. My limited—or, more accurately, nonexistent—pool of knowledge made me the least qualified person to judge that.

“Oh, um, I guess not too old…” It’s not that I had anything against dating someone older. But I wasn’t sure what we’d have in common. “Or not too young…” Since I was about to be twenty-three, the thought of dating someone just out of high school didn’t sit well with me.

“Wow.” Harmony’s green eyes widened. “You are really bad at this.”

“Be nice.” Destiny threw a crumpled-up napkin at her.

“No, she’s right,” I said, defending our friend. “I am bad at this.”

“No, you’re not,” Destiny insisted as she looked at the paper she was holding. “Let’s just take this one at a time. So far, we have someone that hasn’t known you your whole life and is around your age. I’m putting good kisser, because believe me, that is imperative.”

“Yes. It. Is,” Harmony agreed.

Destiny tucked her legs beneath her, getting comfortable. “All right. So, do you like taller guys, shorter guys? Or does that matter?”

I thought about how great it felt whenever Trace hugged me or we danced. Basically, any time his arms were around me, I was a happy girl. My head fit perfectly against his chest and I felt so…safe.

“Tall,” I answered.

Destiny’s eyes lit up. “Okay, good. Tall. Now, as far as a job, are you a man in uniform or a white- or blue-collar gal?”

“I’m sorry?” It wasn’t that I didn’t know what “a man in uniform” or “white or blue collar” implied, I just wasn’t sure what that had to do with whether or not I liked someone.

Harmony leaned forward, more than eager to explain. “Do you like policemen, firemen, and military men? Doctors or lawyers? Or does a construction worker, mechanic, or cowboy float your boat?”