Untamed: (Heath & Violet) (Beg For It) (13 page)

Oh my. Good thing he
didn’t have my number and I didn’t have his. I’d avoid seeing
him alone from now on. Because if I did want to recommend that the
network do a show here—and I was starting to think maybe, just
maybe I did—the last thing, the very last thing I needed was some
sort of messy thing with a local. And not just any local, a local who
hated everything about our project. A local who seemed dead set
against us having anything to do with Watson.

And yet as much as he
hated the idea of a reality show, he couldn’t seem to keep his
hands off of me. Even as he’d told me to leave, he’d pulled at me
to stay. And wow did it feel so good to stay, wrapped in his arms,
pushed up against the wall, his fingers already getting me close even
through the barrier of jeans.

“Maybe we’ll see
him tonight.” Sam took a sip of his coffee. I took a sip of mine,
not saying a word.

§

That night, I got ready
to go out telling myself I wasn’t getting ready to go out, not like
that. Not like you did when you hoped you’d see a certain guy. I
was just getting ready in a general sense, not selecting lingerie
with the hope that Heath would tear it off of me later. That would be
bad. I looked myself in the mirror and promised myself that if I saw
him, I would try my hardest not to jump him. It would be difficult,
though. He was so huge and brawny.

I saw him the second I
walked into the bar. The kindergarten teacher was all over him.
Apparently the 1950s cheerleader had some non-G-rated moves. She was
draped on him like a fucking dishrag. I wanted to toss her into a
laundry basket.

“Welcome! Sam and
Vi!” Mayor Marty greeted us like old friends. He wanted this deal.
Even as he sold us hard on his small, charming Vermont town I got the
feeling he was good and ready to leave the town behind for bigger and
better things. “Let me buy you a round!”

I ordered the Applewood
cider, of course, and did my level best to completely ignore the man
so hot he set the corner of the bar on fire. What were they doing
over there, playing darts? As if she needed any help to throw a
freaking dart. He was guiding her hand toward the bullseye. Bullshit,
that’s what it was.

“Are you the one
meddling around town with this Hollywood nonsense?” A man as old as
the hills with very few teeth came tottering over to me. His back
formed the shape of a
C
and
he didn’t quite reach my height.

“Hello, sir. I’m
Violet.” I extended my hand. He bapped it away with annoyance.

“Let me tell you a
thing or two, missy. We don’t want your kind around here.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”
I took my hand back. I hadn’t been expecting his rebuff. I’d been
warned that not everyone would welcome the idea of a show filmed in
Watson, but so far Heath was the only one who’d voiced any real
dissent. A few others had scratched their heads and wondered about
whether it made good sense, but mostly we’d been met with
excitement and enthusiasm. Like that little hussy of a kindergarten
teacher over there in the corner throwing her head back with laughter
over something Heath had said. Bitch.

“In my day, we knew
to keep well enough alone. We didn’t have any of these Kim
Karsmashians and Brittney Spears—”

“Hello there, Fred.
How’re you tonight?” Mayor Marty winked at me, wrapped an arm
around old Fred’s shoulders and tried to guide him toward the bar.
But Fred wasn’t having it.

“I’m going to say
my piece!” The elderly man raised his voice. “This little girl’s
causing trouble! And if you’re all too stupid to see it, I’m not
going to just stand around!”

“Hey, Fred.” Heath
showed up by my side. He extended his hand to the old man, and this
time the man stopped and shook it.

“Good to see you,
Heath,” he said.

“Good to see you,
too. How’s your fence holding up?”

“All right, thanks to
you.”

“Glad to hear it.
Now, Fred, I heard what you had to say about this idea of a show here
in Watson. And I agree with you. But what I’m thinking is we should
settle it in a town meeting. That way we can all speak our minds. And
Violet here can enjoy her Friday night.”

Old Fred still eyed me
with suspicion, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Meanwhile, let me
buy you a beer.” And with that, Heath took Fred off to the bar.

“He rescued you.”
Sam appeared by my side, swooping down like a hawk after a fat and
vulnerable mouse.

“Not really,” I
protested, though that was exactly how it had felt. He’d done it so
smoothly, without offending anyone or causing a scene. And had he
mended that old man’s fence? That was nice. I tried to picture
Vincent, my male model casual L.A. fling mending a fence. He wouldn’t
mind posing for photos next to a fence. He’d even take his shirt
off and pretend to be working on it if the shoot required. But actual
mending? No.

Come to think of it, I
hadn’t heard from Vincent at all the whole week. And even more
interestingly, it hadn’t occurred to me until just now. Out of
sight, out of mind. I guessed he felt the same way.

“Sorry about that.”
Mayor Marty came back over to us, all apologetic. “There’s a few
holdouts. It’ll take some doing to win them over. But a town hall
forum is a good idea. People’ll like that.”

“Sure, of course,”
I agreed, wondering what a town hall forum entailed. It sounded like
the kind of thing presidential candidates staged to make it seem like
they were having an authentic interaction with everyday folk. But who
knew if we even wanted to win over these townspeople? Sam and I were
still on the fence about whether there was enough story here for a
show.

“You all right?”
Strong man to the rescue, Tom the handsome fire warden came on over
and looked at me with concern.

“Sure,” I answered,
smiling, but really I was thinking he was a little late. Heath had
been the one to step in and save the day.

“Tell me, how’s
your Friday so far?” He settled in by my side. Talking and flirting
with this man candy was second nature to me. He was easy—easy on
the eyes, easy to talk to, and he’d be easy to say goodbye to at
the end of the night. Much easier and safer than talking with Heath.
Plus, it got Sam off the scent. I didn’t want him thinking there
was anything going on between me and Heath. I didn’t trust Sam more
than I could throw him, but he didn’t weigh much so I could
probably throw him a couple feet at least.

Someone started playing
some music and people started hooting and dancing, Friday night in
Watson. A couple of guys asked firefighter Tom to play pool, and he
excused himself with a “duty calls.”

Not long after, a much
more glaring, brooding man towered by my side. We stood together by
the wall, each sipping our drink, the air between us crackling with
electricity.

“I see you’ve met
our town stud,” Heath finally said.

“Do you mean Tom?
Yes, he’s quite handsome.” I liked seeing Heath unsettled.

He grumbled. “He’ll
light your fire and put it out. Full service.”

“I noticed you seem
close with the town cheerleader.” I tilted my glass over to little
Miss Kindergarten now flirting her ass off by the pool table.

Heath smiled down at
me. “Jealous?”

“Of her? Please.”

“No, you wouldn’t
be jealous.” He shook his head. “I’m not your type. You told me
that.”

“You’re not,” I
insisted. “You have a beard.”

“This thing?” He
rubbed his jaw and laughed. “You should have seen me a month ago.”

“Your beard used to
be bigger?”

“Someone told me it
was the size of a watermelon.”

My eyes grew wide. “Was
it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Why’d you cut it?”

“My gram asked me
to.”

His gram? That was
sweet. I took a sip of my cider, no snappy comeback at the ready.

He looked down at me.
“Why do you seem surprised?”

I shrugged. “I guess
I didn’t picture you with a gram.”

“How do you think I
came to be?”

“I don’t know.
Maybe you grew like a mighty oak in the woods.”

“Mighty, huh?” He
winked at me. “You have no idea.”

I blushed. I bet he was
mighty. I’d felt the length of him the other day, his hard shaft
pressing against me through his jeans.

“But I think I’ll
grow my beard again,” he continued. “Because I know you don’t
like beards.”

“Good idea,” I
agreed. “And I know I’m not your type, either,” I reminded him.
He’d told me himself.

“That’s right.
You’re not.”

“But you haven’t
told me why.” I tilted my head and looked up at him. Big mistake.
He looked so devilishly handsome, a smile pulling at those lips of
his. Why weren’t they on me right now?

“Around here we’d
call you high maintenance.” And that was why.

“Do you mean that
I’ve washed recently?” I asked sweetly.

“Good to see you two
getting along!” Mayor Marty came along, inserted himself between us
and put an arm around both of our shoulders. I missed Heath
instantly. Heath grunted, I sipped my cider, and Marty pattered along
oblivious. Before long, Heath excused himself. But Sam sidled right
up next to me where he’d been standing.

“You naughty bitch!”
Sam whispered to me under his breath. Nothing got by him.

“What?” I played
dumb.

“You found yourself a
lumberjack. I’m so jealous.”

“That’s
ridiculous,” I dismissed the idea, but I flushed as I did it.

“You’re all pink!”
Sam exclaimed, eyes wide.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are! Ooo, you
like him!” Middle school. Just when you’d thought you’d put it
all behind you, it reared its ugly head yet again.

Heath settled himself
in at the bar talking with the bartender. They must be buddies. I
joined the guys over by the pool table. They loved teasing me. What
did an L.A. girl know about playing pool? It would have been awesome
to be a ringer, bat my eyelashes and then school them all like a
veteran pool shark. But, honestly, I sucked at pool. I’d never
played it growing up, and the kinds of bars I went to didn’t
exactly feature dartboards and pool tables. Orchids, outdoor seating,
water features, these were my native language. Breaking, racking up,
scratching? Not so much. Well, scratching I was quickly becoming
familiar with.

But not knowing a thing
about pool did have its advantages. It made flirting a breeze. Plenty
of guys lined up to show me how to set up a shot, standing behind me
and guiding me into just the right angle. It was fine. It was fun.
But they weren’t Heath. The man I wanted to be with sat over at the
bar, completely uninterested.

I guessed I should be
thankful. It didn’t seem as if he’d breathed a word to anyone
about us hooking up. Mauling each other, really. I didn’t see a
single whispered comment or knowing wink, anything to suggest anyone
knew I’d been a bad girl. Damn, did I want to be bad with him
again. Those few minutes bantering with him against the wall had left
me feeling all shaken and stirred.

He had such amazing
hands. He even made holding a beer bottle look sexy, his hands were
so big wrapped around the glass. He worked with them for a living,
making such incredible furniture and art. And the way he touched me.

Fire warden Tom touched
me then, a hand around my waist to supposedly guide me toward my next
shot. It was harmless. It affected me much less than just the memory
of Heath’s touch a few days ago.

But over at the bar, I
caught Heath glaring. The moment our eyes met, he turned away. I gave
an annoyed little puff and put too much force into my next shot,
hitting absolutely nothing. It was Heath’s fault. What was his deal
sitting there glaring? If he didn’t want me over here flirting with
the boys, he should stop being so mean to me, telling me I should
leave. If he wanted me the way it felt like he did, he should say so.

When I looked over
again, he’d gone. All right, I guess that was how things were going
to go down between us. Not at all. I should have felt relieved,
grateful to be kept on the straight and narrow. Instead I felt all
worked up as I drove back to the condo in the SUV he’d swapped out
for me. I hadn’t even thanked him for it. I hadn’t had a chance.
We’d barely seen each other, and when we did we went at
it—literally and figuratively.

I drew myself a bath
when I got back. The condo didn’t have anything like a big spa
Jacuzzi tub, but the tub in the bathroom still had appeal. It was
clean, held hot water and was big enough to submerge myself into. I’d
finished off more than a few long, crazy work days with a nice, long
soak in a tub. It always soothed my frayed nerves and calmed the
jittery energy that powered me through non-stop meetings, shoots on
location, networking lunches and drinks, plus the constant stream of
texts, emails and phone calls shouting at me, demanding my attention.

But tonight, the bath
didn’t settle me down. I had a different current pulsing through
me, and it had nothing to do with the typical reasons. Tonight, I was
all fired up and raring to go, but it wasn’t because my mind was
racing with unreturned calls or memos I needed to draw up and send
before sleep.

It was Heath. The way
it felt to stand next to him, his huge presence, the heat radiating
off of his body. He’d worn a simple long sleeved waffle shirt,
nothing trendy or showy, but the way it fit him. The rounded muscles
of his shoulders stretching the cotton, the definition of his pecs. I
hadn’t even seen him with his shirt off. It wasn’t fair to tease
a woman like that.

One hand drifted lazily
down my body in the warm water, finding its way between my legs.
Slipping a finger in, I closed my eyes and let myself sink into the
fantasy, imagine if the night had gone differently. Imagine if he
appeared at my door, every giant, glowering inch of him, and backed
me up against a wall in seconds flat. He’s press me there, trap my
hands up over my head. Maybe I’d just have emerged from the bath,
all pink and rosy and naked under my towel. Then there’d be nothing
between us, towel on the floor, he’d spread my thighs and touch me
the way he did with his thick, rough fingers.