Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8 (24 page)

“Pretty good won’t do it, Chico. That brisket was a little dry, which happens with the King’s stuff about a third of the time. And your pork was awesome, but it was probably too spicy for some of the judges.”

He frowned. “Why didn’t you say something last Sunday? I thought you were good with it at the time.”

Clem shrugged. “I was good with it. I still am. Both of you do tasty stuff. But you’re not perfect. And you’re going up against the pros. My guess is the King’s hoping to build his business with a win here. You need to be at the top of your game if that’s going to happen.”

He folded his arms across his chest, wishing he could say she was wrong. But she wasn’t. And, truth be told, the King’s beef was occasionally a little dry. He turned to Andy. “What do you think?”

“I think Clem has a point.” She gave him a rueful smile. “A lot of the guys on these teams spend months on the circuit, and they’ve spent years getting their stuff together. But…”

He leaned forward. “But…?”

“But it’s like football. On any given day, any given cook can have a disaster. And any given cook can have a hallelujah moment. It helps to be ready, though.”

He nodded slowly. “All right. Maybe we could make it a kind of every Sunday event—work on the recipes during the week, then cook for a crowd and have people try it. The King doesn’t have his truck set up on Sunday, and Sundays here are pretty slow.”

“And I’m off Sundays,” Andy added. “Usually. Unless there’s an emergency or something.”

“Tom could host it here,” Clem mused. “But you saw the kind of problems it caused the last time around—customers who wanted in and Tom running back and forth to keep it going and look after the bar.”

Chico nodded, remembering all those stares. Another barbecue at the Faro might make Andy a little less enthusiastic about the whole deal—and him. “It wasn’t exactly ideal.”

“You need someplace out of the public eye. Where you can limit your guests to people who are likely to give you some good feedback. And maybe some sponsor money.”

Andy raised an eyebrow. “You’re still looking for sponsors?”

“Yeah. Tom’s in. And Joe LeBlanc thought he could get his bosses to let the Rose sponsor too. But it wouldn’t hurt to have a few more, particularly if we have to give ’cue away to the public.”

The band roared to the end of a number, and Chico realized he’d managed to miss most of it. Given that he was the one in charge of booking them, he probably needed to do a better job of paying attention. Judging from the crowd’s cheer, though, they’d been all right.

He nodded slowly. “Okay, let me check with the King and see if we can come up with a location for some Sunday parties.”

“Good plan.” Clem shrugged. “Pull your act together, get some consistency going, and you should have a shot. How good a shot is up to you.”

He nodded again, turning toward the stage. He should probably spend the rest of the evening doing his regular job.

Andy smiled up at him, doing that face glow thing again, and he did a quick reassessment. Maybe they could leave a little early, assuming the cowboys on the stage didn’t feel like multiple encores. And even if they did, he had a feeling he’d be moving them along fairly soon.

An hour later, he was walking down Main beside her, enjoying what might well be the last cool breeze of early summer. He could have driven, but he only lived three blocks away. Still, he was a little nervous about asking her back to his place. He didn’t take women there as a rule. But he’d been breaking the rules with Andy almost since he’d met her.

She glanced up at him. “Will my car be all right back at the Faro?”

He nodded. “Should be. The cops keep an eye on the lot. We haven’t had any trouble.”

“Will it seem weird if it sits there overnight?” He couldn’t tell if she was blushing or not. Her voice sounded a little strained.

Might as well get it out in the open. It wasn’t like they didn’t both know what was happening. “No. But I can go over tomorrow morning and get it for you if you want. Chances are nobody will notice.” If they were lucky.

She blew out a breath. “Maybe we can talk about that when the time comes.”

They walked on for a while in silence. He wished he could see her expression, but maybe it was better that he couldn’t.

“Does it still bother you that people stare?” he asked as they turned down the last street before his house.

She shook her head. “I’m still not used to it, and I hope it stops soon. But the thing is, it’s their problem, not mine.”

“When did you decide this?”

“Tonight actually.” She grimaced. “That’s how I’d like to feel anyway. I’m still kind of working on it, though. It’s what I want to believe.”

“Good attitude to have.” He opened the gate in front of his house, thankful that he’d remembered to leave the porch light on for once.

Andy followed him up the walk, detouring to look at the brass sundial he had at the side of the steps. “This is interesting.”

He shrugged. “Found it at an auction in Mason. Seemed to fit the space.”

She turned back to look at the building. “This is your house?”

He nodded. “It’s a duplex. Right now the guy who lives in the other side is out of town.” And might not be coming back, which meant he’d have the hassle of finding a new renter. But at least it made for privacy.

“I like it.” She smiled at him. “Nice yard too.”

“Come on in.” He unlocked the door, stepping inside so that he could turn on a lamp. Thank god his cleaning lady had been in the day before. He gathered up the newspaper from the coffee table, dropping it into the recycling bin.

Andy stood just inside the door, staring around the room. “This is really…great.”

He paused, doing a quick survey. Same leather couch he’d had for five years or so. Television set against the far wall. Antique rocker from his parents’ house and a couple of bookcases. “Great?” He wondered if she was being ironic, but that didn’t seem like Andy.

“It’s so comfortable.” She sank down on his couch. “Sometimes I have to pick up some of the guys who go out and take the water and soil samples for us. Most of them are bachelors in their twenties. Their houses always look like crap.”

“I’m not in my twenties,” he said dryly. “I’ve sort of moved beyond the crap stage.”

“I think some men never do.”

He sat down beside her, close enough to feel the slight warmth of her skin. She gave him a slow smile, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, and his body began to harden. The lady definitely had an effect.

He cleared his throat. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some chips. And Lord knows I’ve got barbecue.”

“You’ve been working on it?”

He nodded. “Off and on. Clem wasn’t the only one who thought the rub was a little too spicy.” His mom had told him he’d never get it by Anglo judges, which might be a bit of an overstatement, but she might also have a point.

“I liked it,” Andy said carefully. “But I understand what she was saying.”

“Did you ever do any judging yourself?”

She shook her head. “I just listened to everybody bitch about it. That way I got a good idea of what judges don’t like because I saw the people who didn’t do well, or as well as they thought they should.”

“So you can pass on some ideas?”

“Sure. Of course, that was a few years ago, and judging does change.”

“Not that much, I imagine.” He blew out a breath. “So no on the barbecue?”

She smiled. “I’m fine. Clem’s onion rings took care of it.”

He nodded, wondering why he felt nervous all of a sudden. They already knew they were good together. He shouldn’t feel any tension about it now.

But he did. The first couple of times, he’d been worried about not hurting her. More worried about that than about making her feel good. This time he wanted that too.

She didn’t have any complaints last time.
Not so far as he could tell anyway. Still, it made a difference.

Andy was watching him, the corners of her mouth edging up in a dry smile, as if she knew what he was thinking. Hell, for all he knew, she could read minds as well as judge barbecue.

He turned, cupping her face in his palms, bringing his lips to hers. She tasted warm and rich, like toffee, and he let his hands slide into her hair, combing his fingers through the smooth waves at the side.

Her hands slipped to his chest, and his body hardened another degree. He raised his head, trying to get his breathing under control again. “Let’s move.”

“Not yet.”

She gave him that smile again. He had to fight down the urge to gather her up in his arms and carry her down the hall. Maybe he could still do it a few minutes from now, although walking might be harder.

He pulled her close again, letting himself touch her, run his hands along her arms, her breasts, her hips.

She gave him a gentle shove, so that he slid down into a corner of the couch, then moved on top of him.

She took hold of the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up to touch his bare chest.

He took a deep breath to fill his suddenly empty lungs, then pulled at the edge of her light blue top, easing it over her shoulders and off. She was wearing another of those bras, peach-colored this time, with lots of lace. He smiled.

“What?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I like your choice of lingerie.”

It was hard to say for sure in the dim lamp light, but he was fairly certain she was blushing.

He dropped the shirt to the floor, then turned, unfastening the bra and pushing it from her shoulders. She leaned back slightly, letting him see.

He ran his hands along the side of her breasts, rubbing his thumbs lightly over the nipples. “Beautiful,” he whispered.

She frowned slightly, but she didn’t argue. Just as well—he wasn’t going to change his mind. She was beautiful and she was his.

At least for now.

He reached for the zipper at the back of her slacks, drawing it down, then pushing them over her hips with her peach-colored panties. She arched her back for him, then pushed the rest of her clothes to the floor. Then she turned, straddling his lap, so that her knees rested on either side of his hips.

His chest felt tight again, caught between those two maybe-conflicting needs
don’t hurt her, make her happy.

“It’s all right. Don’t worry.” She unbuttoned his jeans, sliding down the zipper.

His erection sprung free, rising over his belly.

Andy stared down at him for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. “You’re pretty impressive yourself, you know,” she said softly.

He managed a tight grin. “That’s one way of putting it.”

She slid forward slightly, resting her hands on his chest so that his cock was caught between them. “Don’t you turn away my compliment. I said you were impressive and I meant it—in a good way.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.” He reached up to cup her breasts. “Thank you.” He leaned up to take the nipple in his mouth, sucking as he pressed it against the roof of his mouth with his tongue, his fingers rubbing against the underside of her breast.

She did another of those purrs deep in her throat, a quick approval. He dropped his hands to her rounded behind, digging in his fingers as he lifted her slightly. His breath felt tight in his chest as he let her slide down.

“Wait a minute.” He fumbled in his pocket to pull out a condom. He’d bought them yesterday, staring down the clerk at the drugstore and knowing the news would probably reach at least a couple of his cousins by the end of the day.

“Let me.” Andy took it from his fingers, pulling open the packet and then rolling the condom slowly down his shaft.

He took another deep breath, calling up all those reserves of patience he hadn’t had to use for a couple of years at least. Good thing they weren’t going to be walking down that hall any time soon.

Andy took hold of his cock, her expression intent, guiding it slowly into her body as she lowered herself over him. He gasped, trying to get some air into his once-again empty lungs.

She rested her hands on his shoulders then, gazing down at him as she moved, her body rising and falling above him. He brought his hands to her hips, moving her farther, sliding into her, his head swimming with wanting her.

Her eyes began to drift closed and he shook his head. “Don’t,” he whispered. “Keep watching. I need to see you.”

He plunged farther, feeling the heat deep inside her body, the clutch of her muscles around him. His hands flexed against her skin. “Andy,” he gasped.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh yes.” Her body convulsed above his, her muscles clenching tighter, the movement plunging him over the edge with her.

“Ah god,” he ground out. “Sweet Lord.”

His hips jerked upward as she rode him to the end, holding him tight, then collapsing slack against his chest. He stroked the bumps of her spine, lightly, the smooth slide of her skin. His brain was still wrapped in a haze of pleasure. “Andy,” he murmured again. “You’re very, very good.”

He thought she murmured something like “likewise,” but he wasn’t sure. Her head was tucked against his chest, her hand resting on his collarbone.