Turn and Burn (Blacktop Cowboys 5)

Tanna stared at them, frozen to the spot. She had zero talent with crafts. And she had a shit ton to get done today—she didn’t have time to cut and paste with the senior set.

“Sugar? Is everything all right?” Vivien asked.

“Ah. Well. Here’s the thing . . .”

The ladies burst out laughing. “You should see the look on your face. Pure panic.”

“Bet you thought you were gonna get roped into arts and crafts time with assisted-living escapees, huh?” Garnet asked.

Tanna laughed. Then she snapped Garnet and Vivien in the butt with the suspenders, since they were closest. “Mean, ornery cusses, every cotton-pickin’ one of you.”

More laughter.

“So what would you have done if I’d said yes to helping you?” Tanna challenged.

“We would’ve had us an old-timey, quilting-bee-type thing.”

“Except we’d have booze. And we’d be talking about sex,” Garnet said.

“Garnet is all talk, since she’s not getting any sex right now,” Miz Maybelle whispered.

“I heard that, Maybelle, and I’d like to point out you ain’t getting any either,” Garnet retorted.

“None of us are,” Tilda complained.

Vivien nodded. “Which is why we drink.”

“And shoot stuff.”

“I’ll bet she’s getting some,” Pearl said, pointing at Tanna.

“To hell with some, I bet she’s getting a lot,” Garnet said, giving her a once-over. “When was the last time you rode the hobbyhorse?”

Tanna offered a cheeky grin. “Now, all y’all will need to buy me a couple drinks before I kiss and tell.”

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Good. ’Cause all the other girls around these parts are pregnant. They’re worthless as drinking buddies,” Pearl complained.

“But great as designated drivers,” Tanna said.

“That’s Tobin’s job,” Garnet pointed out. “And whoever else he can rope into it, like Max, Ike, Fletch and Hugh.”

Tanna felt her cheeks heat at the mention of Fletch’s name.

She turned away as the ladies chattered, her thoughts scrolling to the too-sexy vet she’d been thinking about nonstop.

After the evening she’d spent with Fletch at Ludlows’, he’d dropped her off without even attempting to kiss her good night. She’d been oddly disappointed. Watching him in action as August Fletcher, DVM, gave her an entirely different perspective on the man. He had near hero worship status with the entire Ludlow family and he’d downplayed it, acting embarrassed, but it was apparent not only did he love his job, he was damn good at it.

Little Miss Ellie had given her what for immediately after supper. Demanding details on how Tanna knew Fletch. Asking all sorts of questions about Tanna’s experience with animals. She’d become marginally more friendly upon learning Tanna had been a world champion barrel racer. But Miss Ellie had kept an eagle eye on them when Tanna and Fletch were interacting. Tanna had been tempted to whisper in the young girl’s ear that she enjoyed the mushy kissing stuff with Fletch. A lot.

Her mind replayed the following night’s events in detail. He’d shown up after nine p.m. with popcorn and candy and they’d watched a movie. An action movie where cars blew up, the walls rattled from the constant on-screen gunfire and bodies littered the ground.

There hadn’t been much in the way of conversation. Fletch had stretched his big body out on the couch completely, leaving her the recliner. He hadn’t invaded her space and compulsively touched her. He hadn’t made one suggestive comment. Tanna had no idea how much she liked their verbal foreplay and his sexual teasing until she hadn’t had it.

It’d been like hanging out with her brother. Especially when she heard Fletch snoring.

Normally she’d get pissy about such rude male behavior. But she reminded herself it wasn’t an actual date. Just two friends hanging out. The good doc had worked a long day. The man was clearly exhausted.

At midnight Tanna perched on the edge of the couch, not sure if she should wake him or rearrange him so he didn’t end up with a crick in his neck. She’d reached over and brushed the section of untamed hair from where it’d fallen across his forehead.

Fletch’s eyes immediately opened. Took a couple of seconds for them to focus. He didn’t bestow a dazzling smile and she’d felt a pang of disappointment.

“Shit. I fell asleep, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry. What time is it?”

“Midnight.”

He groaned. “I’ve got a forty-five-minute drive home.”

“You don’t have to go. You could stay here tonight.”

His gaze had roved over her face, down her neck to her cle**age and back up to meet her eyes. The heat level in his was set to smolder, not burn, but she knew it wouldn’t take much to ignite. “I can’t.”

She said, “Why not?” even when she’d known the answer.

“Because there’s no way in hell I could stay out of your bed,” he’d said with a low, warning rasp. He paused and kept watching her. “It’d violate the friendship rules.”

She opened her mouth to say “fuck the stupid rules” when his front shirt pocket started to vibrate.

Fletch tore his gaze away, muttering about piss-poor timing. Then he sat up with the buzzing phone in his hand. “This is Dr. Fletcher. Yeah. No, go ahead and connect me with the number.” He pushed his hair away from his face. Then he tapped his fingers on his knee as he held the line.