Tara caught the quiet words and backhanded him lightly on the arm. “Bite your tongue—you haven’t lived with it for the past twenty-eight years.”
Now he looked over. “You’d rather you didn’t have someone looking out for you?” he asked, surprise and a hint of reproach in his tone.
It wasn’t that simple, but of course he didn’t know that. “Don’t try to make me feel bad.”
He shrugged, and his chin dipped as he reached out to pluck a blade of grass from alongside the blanket. “All I’m saying is, I think it would be nice, knowing someone cares that much.”
She got the sense that he spoke from being on the opposite side of the fence. She studied his profile, and when he finally glanced at her again, his half smile didn’t reach his eyes. She lifted one brow, letting him know she was listening, and he gave an uncomfortable laugh.
“Oh, no. No true-confessions here.”
Tara rolled her eyes with a smile, even as her heart tugged with sympathy for him. Whether he admitted it or not, there’d been definite wistfulness in his voice when he’d said it would be nice to know someone cared that much. For now, she’d let him off the hook.
“Well, to answer your earlier question, I didn’t tell Charlie about those guys because, unfortunately, his self-control is worse than Sugar’s, and he’s gotten in trouble for it before.”
Wes’s turn to regard her thoughtfully. “Protecting him by not letting him protect you?”
“Umm…something like that.” She drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, then laid her cheek on her knees facing him. An overwhelming urge to explain about Annabel surfaced, but she’d end up crying and wouldn’t that be nice? Instead, she admitted, “I realize it was stupid, now—especially when Kenny pulled the knife.” She lifted her head with a sudden realization. “I never really thanked you.”
“Please don’t make a big deal out of it.” He looked uncomfortable again.
“What? I’m just saying thank you.” She leaned a little closer, bumping her shoulder against his, hoping he’d turn toward her and their eyes would meet again.
“You’re welcome,” he said shortly. Then he reached for his soda and watched the sky.
Chapter 6
Wes was wound so tight by the time the fireworks began a crashing crescendo, he had to roll his shoulders and neck to relieve the tension. He could’ve turned his head at any time, leaned in, and kissed the mouth that’d been tempting him since the moment she’d told him a dog had fallen in love with him. The brief kiss on the sidewalk hadn’t been near enough.
His heart picked up speed every time he thought about looking at her. Tasting her.
He’d dated enough, mostly when he was younger though, and it was more hooking up than actual dating. Since he’d straightened his life out and focused on his future, he hadn’t had much time to do more than envision the right type of woman to fit into his very specific picture. She certainly didn’t have barbed wire and snake tattoos on her arms.
He closed his eyes for a moment, but only saw long, flowing black hair, beautiful brown eyes and a bewitching smile. Risking a quick glance to find her enjoying the grand finale, he flicked his gaze down to her arm, then back to the explosion of light above them.
Come to think o
f it, though, about the only thing that seemed wild and crazy about her were the tattoos. She didn’t drink, kept a neat house, and while she dressed sexy enough to raise his blood pressure to the boiling point, it wasn’t distasteful or trashy in any way. And he was enjoying her company tonight, especially her humor. So would it be so bad if…
Wes sat up straighter, unable to finish that thought as he realized he was justifying his desire to kiss her. He had to stop. Single-minded determination to stick to the plan was the only reason he’d gotten where he was today. Distractions were dangerous—the bullet that’d embedded a half-inch from his spine served as a jolting reminder.
A prolonged series of loud explosions signaled the end of the fireworks, along with a kaleidoscope of color that took over the entire sky. Families around them clapped and whistled as they stood and began packing up their belongings.
Wes looked again at Tara, her face shadowed in the dim light now that the fireworks were over. The crowd was dissipating fast, and he knew he couldn’t sit too long with her in the dark or he’d start thinking in the wrong direction again.
Rising to his feet, he scooped up her sweater and then held out a hand to assist her up. Her gaze rose as her palm connected with his. It took every ounce of willpower not to pull her against him when she stood. Releasing her hand, he held out her sweater for her to put it on. When he eased it up her arms onto her shoulders, his fingers brushed her soft skin, and of their own violation, gathered her silky hair to lift it free. So soft.
He started to lean in for a stronger dose of her vanilla scent, caught himself just in time, then stepped back and bent for the blanket. After he’d folded it, he asked, “Are you going straight home, or staying for a little while?”
“I’ve got early plans in the morning.”
“Then I’ll walk you back,” he offered, even as he warned himself that’s all he’d better do.
He kept his distance as much as was possible while they made their way with the crowd toward the exit, and still ended up brushing against her numerous times. His entire body hummed with awareness. He was going to have a hell of a time not kissing her if she looked at him like she had earlier.
Her head jerked to the right all of a sudden, then she quickly faced him and put a hand on his arm, her brown eyes full of dismay. “I’m sorry.”
Wes frowned in confusion, but she’d already turned back to wave at an older man and woman who made their way toward them. When Wes saw Tara’s look-a-like, only twenty-some years older, he knew they had to be her parents. He took in her mother’s smooth skin and youthful figure. Talk about growing old gracefully; lucky Tara.