The International Kissing Club (28 page)

“My dad said you’re doing a really good job as quarterback.”

“You asked your dad about me? Ah, Isabel, I didn’t know you cared.” A slow smile split his face and he looked extremely pleased with himself.

Of course he would think she’d asked her dad about him. That was jocks in a nutshell.
Me, me, me.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Derringer. Football is all we talk about at the dinner table.”

Poor Linc had looked miserable the other night, listening to her father talk about how easily Tanner had moved from wide receiver to quarterback. She’d almost felt sorry for him. But what kind of idiot put his entire future at risk by punching a locker? She’d bet good money—if she had any—that he’d done it only because he thought it would make him look cool. God, she hated sharing chromosomes with that moron.

Surprisingly, Tanner didn’t seem to want to talk about her family any more than she did. He grabbed her elbow and steered her toward the front of the barn. “Maybe we should skip the tour and go straight to the tractor.”

She stopped walking and dug in her heels. “The tractor?” Her gaze darted to the beast looming just outside the doorway. “Shouldn’t I at least meet your parents first or something?”

“My parents?”

“I
am
going to be working for them.”

“They’re not here. They spend every Saturday out at the farmers’ market in Sherman.”

“Oh. Right.” She should have guessed that—she’d seen them there just the previous weekend. But if she’d known that she was going to be all alone with Tanner today, then … then what? She wouldn’t have come? That was ridiculous. They weren’t
alone
alone. Not in an intimate or romantic way. And it wasn’t like she cared. She wasn’t Piper, after all.

Besides, he was Tanner. Arrogant, obnoxious football star. He was everything she hated in a guy. Not to mention—

Okay, was it even possible for your thoughts to babble? How nervous was she about this stupid tractor anyway?

She sucked in a deep breath and shut up her mind. Gazing at the tractor she said, “Okay. Tractor Driving 101. I’m ready.”

Tanner chuckled. “Not for that one you’re not. But nice show of bravado.” He led her past the enormous beast and around the corner to where a much smaller tractor stood in the shadow of the barn. “This is the tractor I’m going to teach you to drive.”

Before her stood the baby version of the monster she’d been looking at just a moment ago. Equal parts red paint and rust, it looked as though it was easily as old as she was. Older, maybe. On the bright side, the oversized back wheels only came to her shoulder, rather than to above her head.

She clapped her hands together with manufactured enthusiasm. “Okay. Where do we start?”

The hand clapping reminded her of Piper, and for an instant she felt a pang of regret. Or maybe just loneliness. Piper would be so jealous if she could see her now, spending the day with Piper’s dream guy.

Forget that learning to drive a tractor was about the most unromantic thing ever.

Piper would still be jealous.

On the other hand, Piper was in Paris at the moment. The real
Paris. And she was racking up points faster than Tanner had during the last football game.

Izzy suspected that by the time Piper got back home, she probably wouldn’t even remember who Tanner was. She certainly wasn’t going to care that Izzy had spent the fall working for his parents.

It was
so
not an issue.

Izzy turned back to Tanner and flashed him a smile. “Why don’t you toss me the keys and I’ll give it a try.” Then she looked back at the tractor with a frown. “Do tractors have keys?”

Tanner just shook his head, his expression a little bemused. “Yeah.” He dangled the keys in front of her.

What is it about this boy that makes my IQ drop fifty points every time I’m around him?
Maybe that’s what happened to Germaine: too much exposure to Tanner Colt.

Instead of tossing the keys to her, he crossed to her side and helped her climb up onto the runner. He narrated as he boosted her into the seat. “This is your basic open-air cab.”

“Obviously,” she muttered.

“You got your seat. You got your roll bar.” He slapped at the black bar arching behind the seat as he hopped onto the runner beside her. And then he started pointing at an array of pedals, sticks, and levers. “Your clutch, your brake, your gas. Your emergency brake. Your gear shift. Your throttle. Your ignition. And don’t forget your seat belt.”

“Huh?” She’d just sat down on the cracked and worn vinyl. “Was I supposed to follow all that?”

She looked down at him, only to find him climbing into the cab with her.

“Oh, do you need to sit here?”

“No. You’re good.” He reached across her. She plastered herself back against the seat, but there was barely enough room and his shoulder brushed against her chest. She found herself wishing for a less impressive bustline. There wasn’t room in the cab for her, Tanner, and her damn double Ds. “Here’s the other end of the seat belt.”

She stared blankly at him as he straightened and handed her the buckle. When was he going to get out of the cab? She swallowed hard, then took the canvas belt he dangled in front of her. “Safety first,” she said faintly.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“What about
you
?” She didn’t glance over her shoulder as she asked the question, already keenly aware of how close he was.

Tanner stood just behind her, wedged in between her seat and the roll bar. Despite the cramped quarters, he managed to stretch out, filling every extra centimeter of space. His voice dropped a notch, to the husky murmur that had melted hearts all over Paris High. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

Good thing one of them did.

He pointed to the right side of the steering wheel. “Ignition is right there. You’ll want to turn the key counterclockwise for a few seconds first, to let it warm up. Then clockwise. Just like starting a car.”

She followed his instructions, trying not to notice how good Tanner smelled. Fresh and clean. Like he bathed in catnip for girls. Most of the football players at her house either smelled like sweaty locker room floor or like they’d drenched themselves in cologne. Or worse, some combination of the two. But not Tanner. He smelled like clean soap and line-dried clothes.

She drew in a deep breath and—

“What was that?” he asked.

All she could do was stare blankly in reply.

“You seemed like you were about to say something.”

“Oh.” Shit. What was she supposed to say?
No, I was just smelling you?
“Is that long enough?” she asked instead, looking back to meet his eyes.

He hesitated. Like he could read her thoughts or something. Then he shook his head. “Sure. Go ahead and start it up.”

She cranked the key in the ignition and the beast hummed to life.

“From here on out”—he leaned even closer to be heard over the roar—“it’s just like driving your standard.”

She settled her foot onto the clutch. The pedal felt huge. Spongier. This
wasn’t
like driving her standard. It seemed bigger. More dangerous.

She pressed down hard and felt the gears line up. The gearshift was directly in front of her seat, right between her legs. Just as she reached down to settle her hand over it, Tanner leaned in and put his hand on top of hers. He had one arm resting across the back of her seat and the other practically draped across her left thigh.

“Here’s first.” He moved both their hands together as he shifted through the gears. “Here’s second. Third, fourth. And here’s reverse.” This one was down and to the far right, so that his knuckles brushed against the inside of her denim-clad right thigh. “You feel that?”

Was he joking? She swallowed hard. “Pardon?”

“The reverse is a little tricky on this old girl.” He gave the gearshift another wiggle. “You’ve got to work to get it in.”

She jerked her hand out from under his, moving so fast her foot slipped, so she popped the clutch and killed the engine. “I think I’ve got it.”

He leaned back; a slow smile broke across his face. “Looks like you do.”

She narrowed her gaze to a glare.

“You want to try it again?” he asked, that smug grin of his never leaving his face.

Her heart was pounding and her hands sweaty. What the hell was going on? This was Tanner Colt. Tanner! He was not supposed to make her feel this strange mixture of …

But her mind shied away from admitting she felt anything. This was all just standard I’m-a-football-god charm. He wasn’t flirting with her. He probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. Which should have made her feel better, but it didn’t at all.

“Yeah. But back up, Winchester.” She threw the last name-gun slur in there on purpose, trying her damnedest to rekindle that old animosity she usually felt for him. “I’ll try it on my own this time.”

He held up his palms in a gesture of innocence. “Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

“Right.” She fixed her gaze toward the horizon and stomped on the clutch as she turned over the engine. She had to drive a little distance between them. Put him back in his place. “But I should warn you. When Linc taught me to drive a standard, I nearly killed him.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.”

“Remember his black eye last spring?” she asked as she shifted the tractor into second gear. She felt a jolt of satisfaction as Tanner’s eyebrows shot up. “That was me.”

The morning would have gone a lot smoother if Tanner had kept his hands to himself.

Last spring, Jake Robinsky had taken Izzy to the Valentine social. The guy had been like an octopus. He looked innocent enough at first glance, but he seemed to have eight arms, and every one of them was focused on dragging her closer to his mouth.

This wasn’t like that at all. Tanner didn’t grope or paw. His touch was never invasive or inappropriate. And he never once tried to grab her ass. But he was just always there. Right beside her. Covering her hand as he showed her how to coax the tractor into third. Leaning close to be heard over the hum of the engine. Brushing against her legs as he showed her how to use the throttle.

His nearness set her on edge. Made her nervous in a way it never had before. She found herself longing for the days when she’d been Invisabel Isabel, the girl no one noticed.

Not that she thought he meant anything by it. Not that she would have acted on it, even if he had. Tanner was Piper’s.

Even though Piper wasn’t here. Even though she was off kissing
half of France—half of Europe, for that matter—it didn’t make any difference. Because he was Piper’s.

Or rather, he was
actually
Germaine’s.

A fact she was reminded of just before noon, when Germaine’s white Acura came barreling down the dusty road leading to the Sun Valley Orchard.

After Izzy had mastered driving the tractor up and down the long driveway, Tanner had hooked a tiller to the back of the tractor and had her tilling a fallow stretch of land beside the house. Still, there had been a lot of cringing, head shaking, and exaggerated wincing on his part. At least until they both saw the cloud of dust coming down the road.

At the end of the row, Tanner reached over Izzy and turned off the tractor. Then he nodded toward the car. “We have company.”

“Is that Germaine?” Izzy asked, her voiced sounding too loud after riding on the tractor all morning.

“Looks like it.”

For an instant, something odd flickered across Tanner’s expression—a tightness through his jaw, like he was holding back a comment.

But the expression passed when the car pulled to a stop in front of the house and Germaine climbed out. She was dressed in a short denim skirt, a skimpy white shirt, and turquoise cowboy boots. Izzy would have bet money that Germaine thought the outfit was farm-girl clothes.

Germaine gave a little wave before popping the trunk of her car and leaning far enough into it to show off most of her ass. When she straightened, she was holding a blanket and a picnic basket. Tottering on the heels of her boots, she carried both items over to the tractor.

“Hey, Germaine—” Tanner started, but before he could say more, Germaine had set down the basket and blanket and launched herself at Tanner. She plastered her body against his and yanked his head down. The kiss was long, slow, and deep enough for Izzy’s gag reflex to kick in.

Scooting off the seat of the tractor, Izzy lowered herself to the ground on the other side, knelt down, and retied her shoes. Then she took a long sip from the Sigg water bottle she’d brought with her. Then she cleared her throat.

By the time she looked back, they were still kissing. And Tanner’s hands rested on Germaine’s indecently short skirt.

Izzy coughed loudly, examining her nails. Her new formaldehydefree nail polish had not stood up to the rigors of farmwork.

Just as she was considering digging through her trunk for the road flares that had come in her emergency auto kit, Germaine ended the kiss and stepped away.

She giggled and waved at Izzy. “When Tanner told me y’all were working out here at the farm today, I decided to bring y’all a picnic.”