He's No Prince Charming (13 page)

“I just need some coffee and I’ll be right as rain.”

“You know where to get it.”

“It’s strong, I hope.”

“You know it. On a Monday morning I need an extra kick, especially since I stayed out too late last night,” she admitted while slipping on an oven mitt.

“You and Grady stay long?”

“We played some pool,” she answered, and turned away to take the biscuits out of the oven.

“And he drove you home?”

“Yes.” Sierra busied herself stirring the gravy. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and although she was back to her usual ponytail, it was the sloppy, sexy version, and she had taken some pains with her makeup the way Dakota had shown her. Instead of a loose fitting T-shirt and jeans, she wore a yellow tank top and cutoff denim shorts. There wasn’t anything terribly revealing about her attire and it was perfectly acceptable on a warm June day, but she just knew if Grady walked through that door she would blush from her head to her toes.

“And?”

“For goodness’ sake!” Sierra turned around, put her palms on the stainless steel island and leaned forward. “He didn’t try anything.”
Unfortunately
, she mused but kept that thought to herself. She pressed her lips together before giving Trace a knowing look of her own.

“What?”

She straightened up and fisted her hands on her hips. “Oh, like you didn’t just come from Dakota’s cabin!”

Trace shrugged and took a sip of his coffee.

“Spill, or I’ll beat it outta ya!” Sierra pleaded, but inclined her head. She paused, waiting, and then re-phrased in what Dakota called her indoor voice. “I mean, would you care to elaborate?”

“Not really.”

“I wasn’t really kiddin’ about the beating it outta ya part,” Sierra warned, but put her hand over Trace’s and patted it. “Seriously, though, I’m here for ya. Anyone who gets mixed up with that girl will need someone to talk to,” she added with a soft grin, and sighed. “You’re not gonna spill, are ya?”

“Sierra,” Trace didn’t appear as if he wanted to elaborate, and Sierra felt a little guilty prying, but she was beginning to think that the two of them, however mismatched they appeared, somehow had potential. But then Trace shook his head. “Me and the pop princess? I don’t think so.” But there was something in his eyes that gave Sierra hope.

“She might be a princess”—she arched one eyebrow—“but you’re no prince charming.”

“I won’t argue with you there.”

Sierra reached over and lowered the temperature on the sausage gravy and gave it a stir. “And she does that annoying screaming thing that makes a person want to slap her silly, but still”—Sierra tapped the side of her cheek—“she has that cute Christina Applegate thing going on, don’t ya think?” She didn’t know why she was pushing this, but she felt compelled to for some reason.

“Christina Applegate?”

“Don’t you watch any television?” Sierra asked while pulling apart the biscuits and tossing them in a big pan.

“No.” He shrugged. “Well, except for sports. And the Food Network.”

Sierra’s eyebrows shot up.

“Hey, I like food. What can I say? Now, what were you getting at?”

She got another metal pan from the shelf and dumped the gravy into it. While breaking up the bigger lumps of sausage with a spoon, Sierra waved her other hand in the air. “Dakota reminds me of Christina Applegate, who happens to be sweet but sexy and a little on the flighty side, much like our resident owner.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Trace shrugged, and then paid way too much attention to his coffee.

“Right. Well, they sure did at Dewey’s,” Sierra mentioned briskly, and watched Trace’s face for a reaction. He tried to remain calm, cool, and collected, but the muscle jumping in his clenched jaw totally outed him. Sierra had to turn away to hide her grin. Maybe, just maybe, the pop princess could bring Trace out of the world he had retreated into. While the marina was a beautiful place, a man who was once the best bull rider in the world needed more in his life to keep things interesting. Trace needed a challenge, and Dakota Dunn just might be the ticket.

“Well, Dakota promised me she would keep a low profile and let us go about our marina business while she does whatever it is she came here to accomplish.”

Sierra lugged the pan of biscuits over to the warmer on wheels and put it in the open slot, and then did the same with the gravy. “And do you think she is capable of doing that?”

Trace heated up his coffee and added creamer. While stirring thoughtfully, he said, “I don’t know why not. She seemed sincere enough to me.”

Sierra nodded. “We’ll see, I guess. I just don’t know if she can pull it off. Trouble just seems to find her.”

Trace nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

Sierra added an egg casserole to the third slot and said, “I’d better wheel this out to the hungry fishermen. You want some first?” she asked, knowing that Trace never ate in the dining room with everyone else.

“Thanks. I’ll take some of the casserole back to my office.”

Sierra nodded and scooped a hearty portion onto a plate. “Catch ya later,” she said, and waved as Trace headed out the door. She pulled the cart backward so she could bump the double doors open with her backside, but paused at the door and took a deep breath. Grady would be sitting with his morning group, giving tips about where to fish. She had done this drill hundreds of times, but facing Grady after what had gone down the past couple of days suddenly made her nervous. Still, this was her job, so she took a deep breath and paused to get her composure. She didn’t want to enter the dining room with her face flaming.

Grady glanced at the double doors to the kitchen for the umpteenth time and looked up at the clock. Sierra was a little late with breakfast, and it wasn’t like her not to be prompt. He wondered whether something was wrong, and shook his head. Ever since last night he simply could not stop thinking about her. She had looked so freaking amazing, and damned if he hadn’t been jealous of the way other guys were fawning all over her. What was up with that? He simply did not get jealous.

You have to care to be jealous
slammed into his brain, and he shook his head again.
I should have kissed her
, Grady continued to muse, and then shook his head even harder.

“What the hell’s wrong with you, Grady?”

“Huh?” Grady turned his attention from the doors back to the table of guys anxious to talk fishing. Usually Grady couldn’t shut up, but today he was totally distracted and couldn’t keep a train of thought going. But he’d be damned if he’d admit it.

“Tied one on last night. Just a little hungover, so cut me some slack, okay?” Of course, it wasn’t true, since he had only a couple of beers so he could drive Sierra home.
I have my pride
, he thought fiercely, but found himself looking back at the damned doors.

“Dude, you keep shaking your head and then staring at the kitchen.”

“I’m hungry, okay?” he answered, just as a hush fell over the rowdy crowd and all eyes turned to the kitchen doors.

Grady joined them, and almost dropped his coffee mug when Sierra’s very cute jeans-clad butt pushed through the double doors. She wiggled as she pulled the warmer into the room, and although he had never done so before, Grady scooted his chair back and headed over to assist her. “Need some help?”

“Oh!” Sierra looked up in surprise, lost her footing, and stumbled backward. Grady reached out and put his hands around her waist in order to steady her. She flushed a pretty shade of pink, but then frowned. “What the hell are you doin’?”

Grady shrugged lamely, feeling silly. “Thought you could use some help.”

“I’ve done this a million times,” she said, and then seemed to realize that all eyes were on them. “Thanks, though. I’ve got it.”

Grady nodded and was about to sit back down, but instead he walked over to the other side of the warmer and helped her wheel it to the side of the dining room. She gave him another startled glance but didn’t offer another protest, he supposed so as not to draw attention. But Grady noticed that all eyes remained on her progress, and he barely refrained from staring them all down.

Although on wheels, the warmer was surprisingly heavy for such a little shit like her to handle, and he felt guilty that he had never before offered to assist her. He thought about other times when he had seen her hauling in boxes or dragging out the trash and had never come to her aid, thinking, he supposed, that it was her job. It dawned on him that the main reason was that he had always considered her one of the guys—but those days were long gone.

When she bent over to get stacked plates from beneath the breakfast bar against the wall, there was a collective intake of breath. This time Grady couldn’t help himself and whipped around to give the three tables of men a glare of warning.

“Need any other help?” Grady asked, drawing another look of surprise from Sierra.

“I’m fine,” she answered, and then angled her head as if not quite sure what to make of his attention.

“Okay,” Grady said, but stood there and stared at her mouth, which was shiny with some glossy stuff. Although her glorious head of hair was disappoint ingly pulled into a ponytail, several cute curls had already escaped and it was looser, more feminine.

“Grady?”

“Hmm?”

“You need somethin’?”

Yeah, a kiss
, popped into his head and he almost blurted it out. “Um,” he began, and wondered what she would do if he dragged her from the room, pressed her up against the kitchen wall, and kissed her senseless.

“You okay? Comin’ down with somethin’?” She reached up and with concern in her eyes, felt his forehead. “You do feel a tad warm.”

“Must be the coffee I just drank,” he lied. “And I hurried to get over here, since I had to get a boat ready for Dakota.”

Sierra’s eyebrows shot up. “A boat for Dakota? I smell disaster.”

“It was just a rowboat, for goodness’ sake. You only have to be twelve to rent one, Sierra.”

“Yeah, but what did she want a boat for?”

Grady shrugged. “She said she wanted to get out on the water. I told her not to venture too far.” He waved a hand in the air. “She’ll be fine.”

“I guess.” Sierra nodded, but didn’t look convinced. “I sure hope you’re right.”

“Okay, then.” Grady turned to leave, but paused and said, “Hey, I hate to ask this, but would you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” she agreed without hesitation, one of the things he liked about her. He pulled her aside so that the men could line up and fill their plates, and—if he was honest—to give the impression that he and Sierra were together.

“It’s supposed to really warm up today, and if the fish are biting I’ll be out on the lake for a while. Would you mind making sure that Gil has water outside the kitchen door?”

“Sure,” she answered with a smile that made Grady feel giddy, like he was a love-struck teenager. “If Gil gets on my good side, he might just get lucky and be rewarded with some scraps.”

“Thanks,” Grady said, and grinned. “Oh, by the way, just how does one get on your good side?”

“It’s pretty simple,” she answered with eyes that suddenly seemed serious. “Just be nice to me.”

Her admission hit Grady in the gut as she hurried away as if she were embarrassed. He stood there, rooted to the floor, and watched her while his heart thudded. Grady knew Sierra’s mother had run out on her daddy, and that they once owned the diner in town that folded a couple of years ago when she started working at the marina. He knew the Miller boys were good people but rough-and-tumble, and he just bet that Sierra didn’t have it easy growing up in a houseful of men.

“Holy shit,” he said under his breath when he suddenly had a lightbulb moment. Sierra was sick of being treated like one of the guys and had enlisted Dakota’s help in getting all girly. He grinned and shook his head. And Sierra was giving Dakota lessons on toughening up.
Brilliant
, he thought, but then frowned when he remembered them together at Dewey’s.
But damned dangerous
, he thought with a shake of his head. Both women were out of their element. No wonder Trace had been worried; it hit Grady that they were going to have to keep a close eye on both women as they ventured into foreign territory.

“Well, damn.
One of the guys
, my sweet ass.” When Sierra came back into the dining room with a fresh batch of biscuits, all eyes were on her and Grady knew without a doubt that he and Trace were going to have their work cut out for them. But he smiled, thinking,
Hey, it’s a tough job, but someone has to do it
. He watched Sierra’s delectable derriere as she headed back to the kitchen, and grinned. “Yep, might as well be me.”