“Vince?”
“Yeah?” He returned his gaze to hers.
“I asked you a question.”
He’d been trained by the finest military in the world. He could pay attention to several things at once if he chose. “What?”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you always yell ‘hooyah’ when you orgasm?”
How had they gone from talking about cake to orgasms? “I yell ‘hooyah’?”
“Well, more like a groan.”
He didn’t know that. “That’s embarrassing.”
“No one’s ever told you?”
He shook his head and rose to his feet. “Maybe I only hooyah for you.” He walked across the tiled floor toward her. “Do you always ululate like an Arab woman when you orgasm?”
She laughed and looked up at him. “That’s embarrassing. No one’s ever mentioned it before you.”
He knelt between her knees and slid his hands up her bare, smooth thighs. The tips of his fingers touched the elastic legs of her panties. “Maybe no one else has what it takes.”
She sucked in a breath and held it. “Apparently you ululate me.”
“Hooyah.” His thumbs brushed her through the thin cotton and he took her breast into his mouth. He licked and sucked until her nipples were hard, and then he lowered his mouth and buried his face between her legs. He pushed aside the crotch of her underwear, and he’d licked and sucked her there, too.
“Vince.” She hadn’t ululated. No yelling nor howling. Just a soft moan of his name in the still room. The sound of her pleasure as sweet as the taste of her in his mouth. When he’d entered her tight body, he’d held her face in his hands and watched the pleasure part her lips. He’d felt it grip his dick, contract and pulse and massage his own pleasure.
He lightly bit her bare shoulder. “I’ll go and let you sleep.”
Her yawn whispered in the darkness. “You can stay if you want.”
He never stayed. Leaving in the morning was always more awkward than leaving the night before.
“You can leave before the Parton sisters get here or stay and they’ll make you breakfast.”
“Wouldn’t that be awkward?”
She shrugged. “Your truck has been here two nights now. So I imagine everyone on the ranch knows about you. Heck, probably everyone in Potter County knows. Besides, I’m thirty-three, Vince. I’m an adult.”
Even if staying weren’t awkward, waking up screaming like a girl and running into walls would be. When her soft, even breathing lifted her chest, he rose from her bed and dressed. He shut and locked her window, and glanced at her one last time before he walked from the room and down the stairs. He turned the lock on the knob of the front door and closed it behind him, making sure she was safe and secure inside. He would have felt better if she had an alarm system and a .357 in her nightstand.
Billions of stars crammed the endless Texas night as he moved to his truck and fired it up, and as he drove down the dirt road toward the highway, he thought of the Gas and Go and everything he needed to get done before he was ready for the real renovations to begin. If not for Sadie, he would have finished the demolition in the office and half the front counter tonight. But the moment she’d stepped out of the car and the sunlight had shone in her hair, he’d known he wasn’t going to do anything but get naked.
Billy Idol’s “White Wedding” played from the cell phone in his cup holder and he smiled. It was midnight in Texas. Ten in Seattle. He hit the answer button on his steering wheel. “Hey there.”
“Hi, Vinny.” His sister’s voice filled the cab of his truck. She was the only person on the planet to call him Vinny. “Is it too late to call?”
Obviously not. “What’s up?”
“Not a lot. How’s life at the Gas and Go?”
“So far so good.” They talked about his business plan and when he expected to reopen. “Luraleen is still in Vegas,” he said. “I wonder if she’ll get married by an Elvis impersonator.”
“Funny. Ha ha.”
Yeah, it was funny now. Six years ago when Autumn had married her ex in Vegas, not so funny. “How’s Conner?”
“Good. School’s out in a little over a month.” Vince turned onto the highway and she added, “He misses you.”
His heart felt like it caved in. He’d helped raise his nephew. Seen him almost every day of his life until a few months ago, but he wasn’t Conner’s dad. As much as he hated Sam Leclaire, he loved Conner more. He’d left so Sam could more easily step in and be the father his nephew needed. If he’d stayed, the two would have thrown a few punches by now.
“Conner asks when you’re coming home.”
Home? He didn’t know where that was anymore. “I don’t know. I have a lot going on.”
“With the store?”
She was fishing. “Yep.”
“Friend?”
He laughed. His sister thought he was great and didn’t understand why he wasn’t good relationship material. Oh, she knew he didn’t have long-term relationships. She just didn’t understand why. “You know I always find friends.” Although, at the moment, he had only one
“My wedding.”
Oh yeah.
“It’s in a few months, Vin.”
He knew. He was just choosing to forget. “Still getting married in Maui?”
“And you’re still going to be there.”
Shit. He’d rather get kicked in the nuts. “Do I need to rent a tux?”
“No. I’ll take care of everything. Just bring yourself. And Vin?”
“Yeah.”
“I want you to give me away.”
He looked out the window. Give his sister away? To the unworthy son of a bitch? God, he hated that guy. Perhaps with a passion that wasn’t all that healthy.
“Dad hasn’t been in my life for over twenty years. I want my big brother.” He didn’t want to. God, he hated the idea. “Please, Vin.”
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “Of course,” he said, and looked at the road in front of his headlights. “Anything you want, Autumn.” Which meant he was going to have to make peace with the son of a bitch before the wedding.
Shit.
Chapter Thirteen
Sadie found some nonskid socks with horseshoes on them at a Target in Amarillo. Her daddy still groused and grumped about not needing anything, but she noticed that he always wore the cozy socks she brought him.
She’d also stopped at the Victoria’s Secret in the mall and bought a black lace bra and matching panties. Last night Vince hadn’t seemed bored—yet. And she . . . she was walking a thin line between liking him and liking him too much. Between liking sex with him and mistaking it for something more. More than warm skin pressed together in all the right places. More than him knowing where to touch without asking. More than just wanting and craving his touch until neither wanted more.
Last night when she’d looked at him across the bathroom, sitting on the edge of the tub, watching her, she’d almost thought about more. His eyes, hot and interested in her hands rubbing lotion on her body. They’d already had sex twice and he’d wanted more. She hadn’t meant to mention that he groaned “hooyah.” She’d been talking about something else entirely. She couldn’t even recall what she’d been going on about, but the way he’d looked at
