The Care and Feeding of an Alpha Male (17 page)

“Can’t two-time if it’s a one-night stand,” he said slowly.

She flinched. Ouch. “You’re right. How silly of me.”

“Wasn’t meaning to offend you,” he said. “Just stating a fact.”

“Well, thanks for dropping off my car,” she bit out. “It was real nice of you.”

He stepped a bit closer to her, and she could smell campfire smoke on him. He’d had a class today then? He smelled like their weekend together. God, she hadn’t realized how smoke could smell so erotic.

“I’m doing this all wrong, aren’t I?” he said softly. He took her hand in his. “I didn’t come here to drop off your car. I came here to give you these.”

He pressed her panties into her hand.

“Oh.” A hot blush covered her face and she reached into the front of her dress and hastily shoved the panties into her bra. “Thank you.”

He was so close that she could see that miniscule curve of his mouth, as if he were about to smile.

She waited for a minute. This was so oddly tense and awkward. They hadn’t been tense together when they were together. It was this bizarre in-between state that they weren’t handling very well. She looked down at her keys, then back at her car. “You need a ride?”

“Nah. Dane’s over at the library to harass Miranda for a few minutes. He’s giving me a ride back to the ranch.”

“I see.”

“And you’re not with that douche bag?” he asked abruptly.

Oh. “I’m not with anybody,” she answered honestly, peeking up at him through her eyelashes.

“Good,” he said and the word was husky and made her panties wet all over again. “You want to go out?”

“When?” She sounded breathless, even to her own ears.

“This weekend? I have an overnight trip for the next few days. ROTC team-building exercise. But then I’m free this weekend.”

“I work on Saturday until three,” she said, smiling back at him. “I’m free after that.”

“Saturday night, then? Dinner? I can pick you up here.”

“Sounds good.”

“Good.”

He stared at her for a moment longer, then gave her that crisp, military nod. “See you then.”

“Okay.”

He turned away, took two steps toward the street, then turned back to her. Before she could ask if anything was wrong, he put his hands on the sides of her neck and pulled her in for a hard, fierce kiss.

Her mouth had barely parted under his when he pulled back slightly and licked at her lips, eliciting a moan from her.

“Saturday. If you want, you can leave those at my place again,” he said, and nodded at the panties.

“Rascal,” she said with a laugh.

He winked at her and then headed down the street.

T
he week passed incredibly slowly at times. Miranda had dropped by to have lunch one day, but Beth Ann hadn’t brought herself to confess her fling with Colt just yet. She wanted to see how the date on Saturday was going to go. After all, there was no point in talking it up if they didn’t go out again, right? And she didn’t want Miranda getting her hopes up for Beth Ann and Colt being together.

Because hey, Beth Ann’s hopes were up already. No sense in disappointing two people if it didn’t work out.

She liked Colt. She trusted him—so far. And he was amazing in bed. So yeah, her hopes were up, just a little.

Mrs. Potter hadn’t come in for her Saturday appointment after all. Neither had another one of her Saturdays. The salon down the street still didn’t have a permanent sign, but she’d strolled past the window to read the one taped up on the glass. It
was a list of services offered—waxes, perms, highlights, blowouts, everything that Beth Ann offered. And she was charging three times as much. Beth Ann had gaped, even more so when she’d noticed the small salon had people waiting.

Was Bluebonnet big enough for two salons? She didn’t know. Either way, it made her stomach gnaw with nervousness. Her business had to succeed. Had to. She was never going back to being the stay-at-home “little woman” ever again.

She’d stayed in her salon every night that week. Her mother protested once, but then she’d asked Beth Ann to pick up her dry cleaning while she was in town. Naturally. Jeanette didn’t care what Beth Ann did as long as it didn’t inconvenience Jeanette. So Beth Ann took a larger stack of her clothes to the salon that week and vowed to get an apartment just as soon as she could afford it. She dropped by her parents’ house to shower, but other than that, she kept to her salon.

And every night, in the back of the salon on her air mattress, she masturbated, thinking about Colt. Yet another reason to be glad for her privacy. She couldn’t wait for their date. It was stupid to be so excited—it could be totally wrong and awkward and they’d part ways and never speak again. They’d go back to adversaries, actively disliking each other.

Or they might hit it off and spend the evening making love.

She decided to get waxed, just in case. Instead of a Brazilian, she went totally nude. The sensation was erotic—her pussy felt bare and soft and everything brushed up against her skin.

She couldn’t wait to see the look on Colt’s face when he noticed. And she flushed at the thought.

On Saturday night, she took care with her hair, blowing it out
so it’d fall perfectly down her back. Her nails were a pale pink, the signature heart carefully placed on the fourth finger of each hand and foot. She’d decided on a tight black sweater with short sleeves and a high collar, and a flowing, short red gauze skirt and black peep-toe heels. It was a little bold for a night out in Bluebonnet, but that was why she liked it. She’d worn black lacy lingerie and garters underneath, too. Just in case.

And she really, really hoped for that just in case.

“You look very pretty today,” Mrs. Doolittle told her as Beth Ann arranged her soft, white curls.

She smiled at Mrs. D—her last appointment of the day. “Thank you. I just thought I’d dress up today.”

“You going out with that nice Allan Sunquist tonight?”

Beth Ann’s face fell. “We’re not going out anymore, Mrs. D. I’m seeing someone else now.”

“Such a shame,” Mrs. D said, and shook her head, ruining Beth Ann’s careful arranging.

“Not a shame, honey,” Beth Ann said lightly. “You remember Colt Waggoner?”

“One of those white-trash Waggoner boys?” The old woman harrumphed. “He came back with that lewd hockey player, didn’t he?”

“Lewd?” Beth Ann asked, blinking. Her hands had stopped.

“The one that showed his delicates to everyone in town just to impress that little Miranda Hill.” She gave a harrumph. “As if showing her his bits would impress her.”

Beth Ann smothered her laugh. “I’m sure she knew better than that to be impressed by a man waving his bits at her,” she assured Mrs. D. as the woman paid and left.

Poor, poor Miranda and Dane. At first Miranda’s boobs had been legendary about town. Now all anyone talked about was Dane’s lily white butt. And Dane was a good natured guy—he didn’t mind in the slightest, because Dane’s naked stroll made everyone talk about his photos rather than Miranda’s. She smothered a laugh at the memory of him walking down Main Street, wearing nothing but a hockey helmet over his junk.

The doorbell to her shop clanged and Beth Ann looked up. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Colt.

Well damn. There was Beth Ann, looking like one of his wet dreams in a tight black sweater and a short red skirt. She lit up at the sight of him, and Colt turned and flipped the sign on her door to “closed.”

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey yourself,” she said with a smile, and moved past him to turn the lights off on the big sign. He said nothing, watching her. She looked damn pretty. Her ass looked amazing in that skirt, and those shoes made her legs look long and slim. She looked perfect.

She looked untouchable again. Out of his league.

Damn. What was he thinking? She’d had a weekend of sex with him, but she belonged with someone with money. She was the belle of the town—no one’d want to see her with trash like him. Williamsons didn’t mix with Waggoners.

She looked over at him, and her fingers reached up and brushed his hair, just above his ear. “You’re getting shaggy,” she said lightly. “Want me to fix that up for you?”

“If you like,” he said, content to watch her movements. After all, she wasn’t kicking him out the door yet.

She grinned and gestured back at her chair. “Come sit down.”

He sat, and glared into the mirror when she pulled out a pink cape to cover him. “Not that shit again.”

The last time he’d gotten his hair cut at her place, she’d put that pink cape on him deliberately, he’d suspected.

She gave him an exasperated look. “Pink’s the only color I’ve got.”

“Buy a black one. You can cut my hair then.”

She rolled her eyes at him in the mirror and reached to pull it around him. “You need a haircut.”

“I don’t need to look like a sissy.” He caught her hand in his.

Beth Ann froze against him, and they stared at each other. They were awkward now. Tense. He wanted to go back to where she was warm and soft in his bed, and smiling up at him.

Had to do something. He didn’t want her glaring at him. He wanted her soft, and sweet, and ready to wrap her legs around him again.

So he caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. “Do you trust me?”

She softened as she looked down at him. “You kept me safe in the woods, didn’t you?”

Well, yeah, but it was his fault she’d been stuck there. That wasn’t a conversation he wanted to get into today, though, so he decided to distract her. He nipped at one of her fingertips, then looked up at her. “You said you wanted to be the woman nobody in town expects you to be. I bet no one expects you to have sex with me. Here. If you trust me, of course.”

Her mouth parted a little.

Colt waited for her to protest. To be shocked by his suggestion.

But her eyes got soft and she licked her lips, and he felt the tremor that raced through her. “No, they wouldn’t expect me to do that at all, would they?” she said huskily. She ran her free hand over the back of his hair, as if she found the buzz of his short haircut just as erotic as touching the rest of him.

Hell, yes. His cock got hard immediately. He took the pink cape from her and tossed it down on the ground. He tugged her hand and pulled her across his lap. Her smile was soft and seductive, and he kissed her because he needed to taste her lips again.

She tasted just as sweet as he’d remembered. He’d thought about her all week, and their date. He didn’t expect sex from her, of course. But if he suggested it and she was willing? Well, they could base a relationship on a lot worse things than sex, he supposed.

She broke away from the kiss with a gasp and tried to pull out of his lap. “The windows—”

His entire body stiffened with anger. “You ashamed to be seen kissing me?”

She gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“Cause I’m one of those white-trash Waggoners,” he gritted out.

“Actually,” she said softly, “I thought if I was going to take my clothes off, we should shut the windows.”

“Ah,” he said, since an apology was not going to cross his mouth.

Beth Ann leaned up and kissed him. “Silly.” She slid out of
his lap and went to the front door, locked it, then turned to the long panel of windows that made up the front of the salon. They looked out over Main Street, and they’d given everyone a glimpse of their kissing.

Probably a good call to close them. He stood up and ran a hand along the back of her chair, then pumped his foot on the bar a few times to raise it higher.

When all the blinds were closed, she turned to look back at him with a puzzled frown. “What are you doing?”

“Raising your chair up,” he said. “I’m going to make love to you in it.”

She licked her lips, and he liked the sight of that. “Oh,” she said, the word soft and husky. “Sounds lovely.”

He pulled her toward him again and kissed her, enjoying how sweetly she wrapped her arms around his neck, and how her mouth parted under the thrusts of his tongue. “Been thinking about you all week, Beth Ann.”

“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” she admitted, and her hand stroked down the front of his shirt. He’d worn a button up shirt—his only one—and slacks for the date. Didn’t feel like him, but he didn’t want to look like a pity date when they went out. He wanted to impress her, and a T-shirt and BDUs wouldn’t do it.

“You look good tonight,” she said softly.

“You look better.”

Beth Ann smiled at him and took a step back. Her hands went to her sweater and she pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. Her high, tight little breasts—breasts he’d been seeing in his sleep, they were so perfect—were cupped by black lace so sheer that he could see her little nipples through them. He
wanted them in his mouth already, to feel them beading on his tongue, to feel her hands stroking the buzz on the back of his head as she moaned under him.

Her fingers went to the buttons on his shirt, and he pulled it over his head, tossing it over to where her sweater lay on a nearby magazine rack.

She gave a small sigh of pleasure at the sight of his undershirt. Her finger ran along the chain of his dog tags. “Oh, this looks sinful with your muscles.”

“Should I take it off?”

“God no,” she said, and grinned up at him. “I like it far too much.” Her hands slid down to the belt of his pants. “These, however…”

He slid off his shoes, undid his belt and dropped it to the ground. His briefs followed a moment later.

She groaned and dropped to her knees in front of him. “Mercy, I love the sight of this,” she said with a little sigh of pleasure that did crazy things to his insides. “I kept wondering if it was as thick in reality as it was in my memory.”

His hand moved to her hair, caressed her cheek. “And?”

“Much better than my memories,” she said, and leaned forward and gave the thick crown a little swipe with her tongue.

He groaned and hauled her back to her feet. “Not tonight, darlin’. I want to fuck you first.”

She smiled at him and leaned in to kiss him again as his hands went to the tiny zipper at the side of her skirt and tugged it down. The garters surprised him. And so did the little scrap of panties. “Nice.” He ran his hands down the curve of her ass. “Very nice.”