Turn and Burn (Blacktop Cowboys 5)

“Actually, no. It didn’t hurt that much to begin with. Tobin overreacted.” Such a lie. You just don’t want the good doc to know your recent injury history.

“Tobin is a smart man. He saw an opportunity to play a little footsie with you. If you’d wrenched your neck he would’ve volunteered to give you a back rub. Anything to get his hands on you.”

“So you’re saying all men are dogs?”

He grinned. “Like you didn’t already know that. And I don’t blame him. I’d do anything to get my hands on you, because I know firsthand how amazing it is to have your hands on me.”

“Fletch.” He was not wearing down her resistance saying such sweet and sexy stuff.

He pushed both his thumbs into her instep and began to massage her foot.

“Omigod.”

“Like that, do you?”

Say no. But what tumbled out was a long, “Yes.”

Those magic fingers kneaded and poked and rubbed the ball of her foot, across the center pad and over to her pinkie toe. Then back down the outside to her heel. The circuit he made became tighter and more focused on the center of her foot.

God. Now she knew why some dogs’ legs shook when their tummy got rubbed in the right spot. But it wasn’t just her leg that wanted to shake uncontrollably.

“Ever heard of reflexology?” he asked in that husky bedroom voice.

“Right there. God. That feels good.” She lifted her head and squinted at him. “Umm. What did you say?”

“Reflexology. It’s a practice where applying pressure to specific spots on your body directly fires certain synapses in the brain. Pressing one place can alleviate pain. Pressing on another spot brings pleasure.”

“FYI. I’m not feeling any pain right now.”

“Good to know. But to keep everything in balance I oughta work on your other foot too.”

Tanna pulled her left foot free from where it’d gotten lodged in the cushions. She so wanted to slide her heel up the length of that muscled thigh and walk her toes up his broad chest. But that would send him mixed signals.

And you moaning and sighing when he’s got his hands on you . . . isn’t?

“I don’t think—”

“Don’t think. Just close your eyes and let me do this for you.”

She couldn’t argue with that.

When he dug those marvelous thumbs into her instep she nearly purred with pleasure. Although she tried to concentrate on the foot massage, other things kept distracting her. The slow, steady sound of his breathing. She peered at him from beneath her lashes. Fascinating, the way the muscles in his forearms and biceps moved. His dark hair fell forward, hiding half his face. His lips, those perfectly full lips, were parted and she remembered how expertly he used his mouth.

“Tanna?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you have coffee with me some night this week?”

Tanna groaned softly when he hit a sweet spot.

“Can I take that as a yes? We could meet at the diner in Muddy Gap. Or in Rawlins. Whatever works for you.”

She looked at him. “You’re serious about us having coffee?”

Fletch’s thumbs stopped moving. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Coffee seems pretty sedate after how we met.” Way to point that out.

He leveled that wild man grin at her. “Shoot. I knew I shoulda gone with my first instinct and asked you to go skinny-dipping in the creek and then let me have my wicked way with you in the mud. Or over a rock. Or against a tree. Or better yet, all three.”

Her belly fluttered. “Ah. Coffee is good.”

“Excellent.” Keeping his eyes on hers, he angled his head and placed a soft kiss on her instep. Then he playfully bit down.

“Fletch. Stop.”

“I don’t think I can.” He rubbed his lips over the shallow indent below her anklebone. Twice. “You have the softest skin.” His palm followed her shinbone up to her kneecap. His smile dimmed when he saw the ugly red scar. “What happened?”

Tanna stared at the side of his head as he inspected the gash. He really didn’t know her sad history and bad luck? She’d assumed someone in the Muddy Gap gossipy group of friends had told him.

Why would they? Maybe Lainie, Hank, Celia, Kyle and Devin would talk about her injury and the fallout among themselves, but Tanna wasn’t part of their group, so it wouldn’t come up in casual conversation. It was just another reminder that she’d lost that hometown connection when her father rid himself of the burdens of his family and the family ranch.

“Tanna?”

Her gaze met his. “If I told you all the gory details now, what would we talk about over coffee?” She scooted back, and spun around to set both feet on the floor. “Thanks for the foot massage. It was awesome.”

“I still don’t have your number.”

She stood and retrieved her flip-flops from beside the coffee table. She pulled her cell out of her back pocket. “Give me your number.” He rattled it off and she poked at the keys. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Now you’ve got it.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you when I have a firmer grasp on my weekly schedule.”

With that, she made her escape.

Halfway back to her trailer she wondered what she was escaping from. Chances were high that coffee would lead to more. She should’ve said no.

But the problem was . . . she didn’t want to say no to Fletch.