She drew away in an instinctive effort to put some space between them, only to find her retreat thwarted by his hand at her back. Flustered by the knowledge the ladies in the diner were getting an eyeful of the clinch—including one who enjoyed spousal privileges with West’s boss—she aimed a warning look at him and whispered, “What are you doing here?”
He lifted the to-go tray to eye level, and she saw the Blue Buffalo Ice Cream logo printed across two cups with dome lids. “I invited you out for ice cream,” he responded in his normal speaking voice. “The shop closes at the same time as DeShay’s on Sundays, so I planned ahead.”
She glanced around to make sure there were no ears nearby before responding in another agitated whisper. “I thought when you said ice cream, you meant sex.”
“I meant both.”
“Shhh. Keep your voice down.” She reached behind her and clasped his wrist then turned and started walking along the shady side of the sidewalk. She wasn’t delusional enough to think she could move a man West’s size without him cooperating, but he let her drag him away from the diner.
“All right. I’ll bite. Why are we whispering?”
“Because people could hear us and jump to conclusions.”
He leaned close to her and hunched his shoulders like a co-conspirator. “What kind of conclusions?”
“Ha. You think this is funny? What if I tell you there are four women back in DeShay’s who already suspect we slept together, including your boss’ wife?”
“I would say they’re correct. We did sleep together.” He made a hard turn at the street corner, slid out of her grasp, and took her hand. Those two quick moves switched her from the dragger to the draggee, and the new destination one of the Magnolia-shaded park benches along the perimeter of the town square. “Play your cards right, Reckless, and it might happen again.”
“Look, West, I’m no expert on small town life, but after a couple weeks at DeShay’s, even I’ve figured out Bluelick’s official flower is the grapevine, and gossip gets served up like wine.”
He slowed his steps. “I completely agree.”
Finally. “Okay, so…no, wait.” The infuriating man sat on the bench right there in front of God and everyone. “What are you doing?”
He placed the to-go tray on the bench and proceeded to unfurl a plastic spoon from a rolled napkin tucked between the cups. “Preparing to enjoy a time-honored summer treat.” He held out the spoon to her. “You’ll need one of these. Hey, Grady, Roger,” he added as the two men strolled past them with undisguised interest on their faces.
She grabbed the spoon and pointed it at him. “Folks are seeing this. You don’t think Grady Landry’s going to tell every single soul who swings by the credit union tomorrow that he spotted us having ice cream in the square?”
He shrugged and pried the lid off one of the cups. “He might. And that concerns me, why?”
“Because you’re you”—she waved the spoon at him—“and I’m”—she turned it on herself—“me.”
Now he looked up at her, his stoic face firmly in place. “That’s flat-out insulting to both of us. Sit down before you stick your other foot in your mouth and wind up on that ass I’ve got plans for. Here.” He passed her one of the cups. “Put this in your mouth instead.”
“West—”
“Roxy.”
Fine. She took the cup from him and sat. She’d explained things poorly. An apology and a second attempt were in order. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong, but you get what I’m trying to say.”
What was she trying to say? Hey, West, I stole my guitar away from a disreputable loan shark in Nashville, and if my past catches up to me before I get gone, you’re going to wish you’d never met me. “You’re entrusted with keeping the community safe. People around here rely on your good judgment. What are they going to say if they think you’ve hooked up with me?”
“That I’m lucky. Your ice cream is going to melt.”
Zero headway. Negative headway, actually, because his “lucky” comment made her want to kiss him full on the mouth and strangle him at the same time, which summed up her feelings toward him since day one. She stared at the cup in her hand rather than let him see how conflicted he had her. “What flavor did you get me?”
“Unicorn Magic with wild cherry whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles.”
Something clutched in her chest. She pried the top off and looked at the day-glo swirls of fuchsia, blue, yellow, and green topped by a cloud of pink and a scattering of candy-coated speckles. “I love Unicorn Magic. How did you know?”
“It was the most colorful thing on the menu.”
The tightness migrated to her throat. Hoping something cool would ease it, she dug in and then closed her eyes as a trillion calories of cold, sweet yum melted on her tongue. “Mmmm.” She licked the spoon clean and then went after the traces of whipped cream on her lips. Finally, she remembered her manners and opened her eyes to offer him a heartfelt, “Thank you.”
West sat there, his own spoon halfway to his mouth, watching her with an intense expression, even for him. “You’re”—he set his cup aside and cleared his throat—“welcome. Ready to go?”
Go? They’d just gotten here. Keeping up with the man was giving her whiplash. “Don’t you want to finish yours?”
He leaned in close enough she caught the scent of vanilla on his breath. His eyes dropped to her mouth. “I’d rather taste yours. What do you say, Roxy? Wanna share?”
Her lips tingled. Her mouth craved a heady sweep of vanilla-laced heat. She might have even tipped her face up to receive it, but he waited an instant, then another—enough time for her mind to catch up with what her body was planning. A kiss. It didn’t have to be such a big deal, right? People locked lips all the time, and it meant nothing. A temporary connection as prelude to some
