Tempt Me Tonight (18 page)

“Who are these people? I want to join their club and run for president.”

“These people are Joe.”

“Oh. Never mind.” Figured. She refocused on the salad.

“For what it’s worth, by the way, I’d help you with the hay if I could, but with school just back in…” Debbie did administrative work at the elementary school.

And Trish felt bad for being mean. “I know you would, Deb, but it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Just then, the front door opened and Kenny walked in, looking weary from work but smiling when he saw Trish. “Hey there, stranger.” Then his voice took on a certain playful lilt. “So, how’re…
things?
”

The change in his tone forced her to meet his eyes. They twinkled knowingly. Yeah, he knew about the dresser. “Things are fine,” she said, trying not to blush. After all, they’d been friends forever, and she certainly knew about things
he’d
done in bed, given his wife’s propensity for telling all.

Just then, Debbie’s two boys came barreling around the corner making fast-car noises as they slid into Kenny’s arms. Kenny pulled them close but kept his gaze on Trish. “I thought about inviting Joe to dinner, but figured you’d hate me.”

“Excellent call.”

“Although when I heard you drove out past the garage, I thought maybe you wanted to see him and were just too shy to stop.”

“Ha!” she said. “Nope, no shyness involved, I’m afraid. I was merely curious to see the place, that’s all. That’s where my interest ends.” A claim that was kind of hard to pull off given that Kenny knew about the dresser, but she had to insist anyway.

At the sound of the oven door, Trish turned, thankful for a distraction, to see Debbie hauling out a meat loaf the size of Indiana. “Yeesh, Deb, there are only five of us.”

“Kenny and the boys like to make sandwiches out of it for a couple days after. And you’ll be happy to know,” she said, lowering the meat loaf to the table on a potholder already placed there, “I’ve given the boys strict instructions on potato-hurling so you’ll have a new experience to take back to Indy with you when your trip is over. Just in case nothing else interesting happens to you while you’re here.”

They lay in the reclined seat of his Trans Am next to the lake, just holding each other, feeling each other’s nearness, and her whole soul was filling up…with him. They weren’t having sex—he wasn’t even kissing her—but it felt just as good in a different way. She couldn’t tell if it was now or then, if his shoulders had yet broadened, if there was yet a snake on his arm—they seemed ageless, like time didn’t exist.

“I love you, Trishy. Always have, always will.”

She nuzzled closer to him, understanding for the first time in her life that thing people said about not knowing where one person ended and the other began. She’d always thought that sounded silly—how could you not know where you began? But she
didn’t
now—she knew nothing but sweet summer scents drifting in the window, and pure joy from being intertwined with Joe.

“Trish, breakfast!”

She jolted awake in bed, warmth permeating her whole body. She’d been dreaming of him—a really
wonderful
dream. And even if they
hadn’t
been having sex, the crux of her thighs tingled. Oh my. Yum. What a way to wake up.

“Trish, did you hear me?”
Her mother’s voice echoed up the stairs and through the old farmhouse, jarring her.

“Yes!” she yelled back, “I hear you. I’m coming.”
Although why I can’t sleep in even one day here, I have no idea.
Despite herself, she wished she could have finished the dream. Just in case they did have sex. And she was wondering about the snake—if it was there yet. Much as she wished she could deny it, she definitely had a thing for the snake.

She was tempted to march down the stairs and remind her mom that she was kind of on vacation, as Debbie had pointed out—but then she remembered. She really
did
have to get up early today. She had to be Farmer Trish and get the hay in. And despite Debbie’s advice, she couldn’t wear a bikini—because hay scratched. As for an umbrella drink, she didn’t hold out much hope given that the Last Chance didn’t even have wine.

Trish dragged herself out of bed, not bothering with a robe since it was only her and her mom—Dad probably
was
sleeping in, poor guy. Descending the stairs in a lime green cami and bright, striped drawstring pants, she drank in the aroma of fresh, greasy bacon and let it soothe her frustrations a bit.

Yet before reaching the bottom of the stairs, she stopped, halted in place by hushed tones below. “Now, Jasper,” her mother was saying, “you just keep your thoughts to yourself. Besides, Trish’ll only be here a little while and then she’ll be off to the city again.”

“You just mark my words, woman,” her father said in a harsh whisper anyway, “guys like that never change.”

“Let it lie,” her mother commanded, brusque but low. “As far as we know, nothing’s going on between them. So just let it lie.”

Swell. This Joe thing seemed to be taking on a life of its own. She took a deep breath, then made quite a show of clomping down the rest of the steps to make sure they heard her and quit talking about her behind her back. She knew her dad was concerned for her, but she was suffering enough confusion over Joe already without any more input from him. “Good morning,” she said, pasting a not-very-sincere smile on her face.

Her mother started slightly. “Morning, dear. Come get some bacon and eggs before they get cold.”

Her father rose from his recliner in the living room but let out a painful-sounding yelp and ended up back in the chair. Trish winced, sorry he was hurting, but at the same time she wasn’t sorry she didn’t have to face him over breakfast under the circumstances. She didn’t want to think about Joe anymore—or that crazy dream. It had seemed all nice and cozy there for a minute, but it wasn’t real. Besides, she had other things to worry about. Like would she remember how to drive the tractor? Or how to stack the hay efficiently? How long would it take by herself? Baling hay might be a one-person job, but getting it in the barn with any ease usually required a whole team. Even if her father
did
choose to do it alone, it was a task done much easier with help.

And she also didn’t want to argue with her father. She loved her dad, and she knew they were on the same side, yet Joe still remained a sore subject and probably always would be. It took her back to the fight they’d had when Joe had cheated on her, something that had caused a serious rift in their relationship. The truth was, they’d never been as close afterward as they’d been before. Mostly because it had coincided with Trish leaving home—but the fact remained that the argument had gone unmended and had changed things between them.

She was just sitting down at the table when a knock came on the front door.

“Who on earth?” her mother murmured, echoing Trish’s thoughts. People didn’t come casually knocking on doors this far out in the country at eight in the morning.

“I’ll get it—you’ve got your hands full,” Trish said, looking to where her mother stood with a bowl of scrambled eggs in one hand and a pitcher of orange juice in the other.

She padded on bare feet to the entryway, feeling only slightly sheepish about being in her cami—anyone who came by this early would just have to deal with it.

Of course, when she opened the door, she didn’t expect to find Joe standing on the other side. Speak of the devil.

He wore faded jeans and a white tee with the sleeves cut out, and leaned casually against a porch column, one thumb hooked through a belt loop. A slow smile spread across his face beneath a straw cowboy hat, pushed low. “Morning, cupcake.”

Appeal:
a request made after a trial by a party that has lost on one or more issues that a higher court review the decision to determine if it was correct;
or
the power or ability to attract, interest, or stimulate.

She’d never been much of a cowboy hat person before—but then, she’d never been much of a tattoo girl before, either. And all she could think at the moment was,
Ride ’em, cowgirl.
She stood utterly tongue-tied by the sexy sight of him but finally managed to spit out, “What are you doing here?”

“Came to help you get your hay in.”

She sighed. Debbie? Kenny? It didn’t even matter. Traitors. They probably thought they were helping her in some way when, in fact, she suddenly felt doomed. Because he’d said he’d come to help her get her hay in, but his tone had implied getting something more than hay. “Um, don’t you have a garage to run?”

“I have enough guys working for me that I can take a day off,” he informed her, then gave his head a speculative tilt. “I saw you drive by the other day.”

God help her.
Please let me sound casual and convincing.
“I was in the neighborhood. And…curious. Just to see the place. It’s been awhile.”

His gaze, intense and seductive, said he wasn’t buying a word of it, and she was pretty sure her nipples were poking through her cami now, damn it. It wasn’t enough to wake up aroused—no, no—the object of her desire had to show up at the door two minutes later.

“Joe,” she said softly, thinking that if she were really lucky maybe she could get rid of him before her dad even realized he was here, “this is…nice of you, but you don’t need to do it. There’s not much hay,” she lied. “It won’t take me long. So there’s no need for you to be here.”

Any hint of amusement in his expression faded as he spoke matter-of-factly. “I know how much hay there is, cupcake. You need my help and you’re going to take it.”

“Joe,”
she began again, irritated by his presumptuousness.

But he interrupted her, his voice softer this time. “Trish, just let me do this for you. Okay?” He lowered his chin so that she could barely see those unwavering blue eyes under the brim of his hat as she absorbed the determination in his words. Helping with the hay could never atone for the past, yet she understood that he at least had to try in some small way.

“Who’s out there?” her dad boomed behind her suddenly, since he couldn’t see the door from his chair.

Trish flinched, then sighed. Why couldn’t she just be in a nice, tense courtroom right now, where she knew exactly what to do and how to handle things? “It’s Joe,” she said rigidly.

Her father’s voice lowered an octave, taking on an unpleasant edge. “Joe Ramsey? Why does he keep bothering you?”

Trish’s gaze locked on Joe with mortification since her dad had just made it sound as if she’d been saying bad things about him. She mouthed her defense silently—
He doesn’t know—
and gave her head a short shake. Which meant she’d just reminded him they’d had wild sex together very recently. Which made her nipples even harder since she was standing there staring into those alluring eyes and remembering.

Joe shrugged it off and spoke in a hushed tone. “Guess I forgot how much he hates me.” But she could see the seriousness behind the easy gesture—and it changed things. It reminded her that she was a grown woman and had control here. She could do what she wanted. And she didn’t want a relationship with a guy she couldn’t forgive—but maybe she
did
want his help today.

She turned from the door to face her father, who was now leaning around to peek from his place in the recliner. “It’s okay, Dad. He’s come to help with the hay, and I could use it. So be quiet.” Then she turned back to Joe. “Come in and sit down. I’ll get dressed and we can get to work.”

His hesitation was so short that anyone else might not have caught it. But Trish supposed that even cool, confident Joe might feel a bit uncomfortable coming into her house for the first time in fourteen years, especially since her father had just made him feel unwelcome. Still, he stepped in and shut the door behind him. Only to have her father glare at him. “Sit down,” she told him again, nudging him toward the couch. Then she looked to her dad. “And try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”

Joe watched her scurry to the stairs in her cute little pajamas, then darted his glance back to Trish’s dad, hoping the older man hadn’t noticed him taking in the view. Unbelievable that he couldn’t control his urges at a moment like this, but ever since he’d seen the all-grown-up version of Trish, it had been this way. He couldn’t
not
feel heated up when he was around her.

“Hi, Joe,” Trish’s mom said, entering the room carrying a breakfast tray heaped with bacon, eggs, and biscuits. She lowered it carefully in front of Trish’s dad as Joe settled on the sofa. Unlike her husband, she’d softened toward him over the years and he suspected she no longer held the past against him, that maybe she understood he’d just been a stupid kid who’d screwed up the one good thing in his life.

He smiled. “Hi, Mrs. Henderson. It’s nice to see you.” And strange to remember all the time he’d once spent here, all the meals he’d eaten at their table.

“It was good of you to come like this.”

“Probably should have called first,” he said, but he’d known Trish wouldn’t accept his help if he didn’t force it on her. “Sorry if I interrupted your breakfast.”

She waved a hand down through the air as if he were being silly. “Would you like some? There’s plenty.”

“Thanks, but I already ate.” A quick egg sandwich he’d grabbed from the Waffle House on the way.

“You’ve got a lot of work ahead of you today.” She gestured to the table on the opposite side of the foyer, sprinkled with plates and bowls. “And you’re more than welcome. Isn’t he, Jasper?”

They both glanced tentatively at Trish’s father, but he only grunted from his recliner.

“Maybe I’ll, uh…have a little,” Joe said.

Mrs. Henderson clasped her hands together and smiled. “Good. I’ll get an extra plate.”

Which left him alone with Trish’s dad—and he knew what he needed to do. Clear the air. Or at least try. He spoke in a low, even voice. “I know you have good reason not to like me much.”

Jasper Henderson shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth without meeting Joe’s eyes. “I don’t trust you—especially around my daughter.”