Tap That

“Then you might want to hurry home.”

* * * *

“Are you sure it’s okay if I stay here?” Lindsey didn’t feel comfortable. She’d been to the Stallard home on countless occasions, but she’d never been upstairs. Now, there she stood with bag in hand, willing herself to act grateful and yet finding it was all she could do to stop herself from lashing out.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” Seth squeezed her shoulder. “Besides, it’ll be nice to have a woman around the house.”

“I’m not the domestic type.” She might as well put that out there. “I wouldn’t count on gourmet meals at dinner or waffles and pancakes to start the day.” They’d be lucky if she didn’t burn the toast.

“And here I’d meant to buy you a checkered apron and have it monogrammed and everything.” Seth grabbed her bag and set it on the floor. He hesitated before he said, “So if you aren’t the domestic type, what are you, Linds?”

Too much play existed in his voice. Too much sincerity lingered in his eyes. He looked at her as if he were familiar with her in a more intimate way. At twenty-one, Lindsey hadn’t had the luxury of a romantic relationship. She’d been strapped to hard work and debt beyond measure. She often saw the Stallards working their land next door, but other than a friendly hello or a few minutes of meaningless chitchat, she had kept to herself.

“Hello?” Seth waved his hand in front of her face. “Still with me?”

“Yes.” She shook off all the thoughts that were leading her down a trail filled with regrets.

“Tell you what, you think about it and let me know.”

“I’m…I don’t know what you mean.”

Seth shrugged. “Maybe I don’t mean anything at all. Maybe you’re still too young to know what you want or what type you are.”

Not in the mood for soul-searching, she rubbed her temple with her fingers. “I’m tired. Maybe I should just go to bed.”

“Maybe you should,” Seth agreed, quickly closing the space between them.

She backed up against the high four-post bed, half expecting her knees to buckle, which would’ve forced her to sit. At five feet, four inches tall, she didn’t catch wood or mattress behind her knees. In fact, as soon as she glanced at the bed fit for a king, she felt small by comparison.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Seth stared at her as if he didn’t know what to do with her and that’s when she said, “We’ve been here before. Haven’t we?”

“Not in this particular room,” Seth casually pointed out. “But yes, Linds. We’ve been in a similar situation before.”

“I was drunk.”

He laughed. “You were that.”

“Why haven’t you ever mentioned it?” Surely he realized how embarrassed she’d been. She remembered her twenty-first birthday like it was yesterday. Against her better judgment, she’d gone out on the town with several girlfriends. They landed at the town’s only bar and it hadn’t taken long for Lindsey to decide that the bar scene wasn’t her cup of tea. Perhaps a lot of that had to do with tolerance, too. On that particular day, she learned two things. She couldn’t hold her own with the bottle and she didn’t have patience for a drunk, herself included.

“It was your birthday. Your friends claimed you’d never had a drop of alcohol and—”

“And you thought I wouldn’t remember it.”

“Right,” he admitted, frowning.

“I remember,” she said, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut.

“Then maybe you should’ve said something.” Seth scratched his face, dragging his fingers across his angular jaw. It was unnerving how he looked at her then. His full lips twitched ever so slightly and he ran his thick tongue across those perfectly straight teeth. “You should’ve said something, Linds.” His dark gaze met hers. “I wanted you to remember.”

Lindsey could’ve sworn her stomach turned somersaults at that precise moment. She tucked her hands behind her hips and pinched the comforter behind her. She willed Seth to go away, to say goodnight and leave her alone.

Until she had time to think about what had happened at her place, she couldn’t cope with anything more. She didn’t want to talk about their kiss at the farm or the one he delivered on her twenty-first birthday. “You should’ve said something then.” A beat later, she added, “But it’s not important now.”

“It is, Lindsey. And you’re right. I should’ve mentioned it. I was the sober one.”

“Come on, Seth. Is that the best you can do?” Beck Stallard leaned against the doorjamb with his thick arms folded across his chest. “My brother didn’t want to cut off the hand that might later feed him.”

As soon as Lindsey’s eyes met Beck’s heated gaze, she was sunk. Beck Stallard wasn’t just a man. He was a woman’s man and definitely knew it. He seemingly worked his natural swagger without even trying. “Beck. I didn’t see you there.”