Tom appeared and squatted down beside her tent. He didn’t say anything right away, but those dark eyes raked slowly over her, and she had the horrifying sense he knew exactly what she’d been up to before he showed up.
“No luck with the nap, then?” he said finally, his voice the same low rumble that had just featured in her fevered imagination. It set all her nerve endings vibrating.
Not good. Strike the earlier plan—there could be no more fantasies about Tom. Because that little escapade ought to have taken the edge off, but instead it had made her attraction to him stronger, as if she’d really done the things to Tom she’d been thinking about, and now she wanted the next course.
“No. It’s too hot.” Her voice was a little throaty, and she coughed and reached for a sip of water.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Well, I was going to ride into Prineville, and I thought maybe you’d want to come along and get a beer. I’d show you the sights, but there really aren’t any.”
“You’ve been here before?”
He nodded. “I lived here for a few summers.”
More clues to the mystery of Tom. He seemed to know something about everywhere they’d been so far, but this was the first place he’d lived, as far as she knew.
“Sure. Anything to get out of this tent for a while. I’m getting stir-crazy.”
One corner of his mouth curved up in the ghost of a smile, and she was certain then Tom knew exactly what she’d been up to. “Really? You look like you’ve been enjoying yourself.”
She rolled her eyes, deciding to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about. “Just let me grab some water, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“I’ll wait on you,” he said, and then he walked away.
Lexie dropped her head onto her pillow and closed her eyes. Pull yourself together, Lexie. The man is out of bounds.
Not for the first time, she thanked her lucky stars she’d thought to invent a husband on the beach in Seaside. She just hoped it would be enough. Because right now, she was feeling downright adulterous.
6
This was going to be a disaster.
He’d gone over to her tent intending to ask her out for a friendly beer—all part of the Be Nice to Lexie Project—but the scheme had abruptly derailed when he found her lying back on her elbows, her breasts pushing invitingly against that too-thin top she always wore, her cheeks and throat flushed, hair mussed, chest heaving. If he’d needed confirmation of what she’d been doing before he walked up, the look on her face would have given it to him. All the tension had drained out of her, leaving a smile of pure satisfaction. She looked like sex, she smelled like sex, and in that moment he wanted to bury himself inside her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
Jesus. Where was her good-for-nothing husband when Tom really needed him? Someone had to kick his ass, and he couldn’t do it himself.
Still, he’d already walked up to the tent, so there was nothing for it but to invite her for the beer and try not to think about it.
Yeah, he’d just put that image of her out of his mind. No problem.
It would help if she’d bothered to change her clothes. The little white shorts she was wearing weren’t doing him any favors.
They pulled up to the bar and locked their bikes. Tom led the way inside. He didn’t recognize the bartender, but he’d worked on the same crew with a guy over in the corner. Jim, if he remembered right. He nodded in response to Jim’s wave and led Lexie to a table in the back.
“Corona okay?” he asked, recalling it was what she’d ordered in Corvallis.
“Yeah, fine,” she said, not seeming to be paying attention. She was taking the place in. It wasn’t much of a bar, small and kind of dim, but it was the best Prineville had to offer within shouting distance of their campsite. Plus, Tom was used to the place. He’d come here with the Hotshots a few times to unwind.
He bought a couple of beers and a basket of chips and salsa and brought them over to the table.
“So when did you live here?” Lexie asked, squeezing her lime and pushing it down into the bottle.
Tom did the same and took a long pull on his beer, grateful for the smooth, cold slide down his throat and the artificial chill of the bar after so many hours in the sun. “Three summers ago? No, four.”
“What brought you to Prineville?” The way she said the name of the city made it clear that she didn’t think much of it.
“A job.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he grabbed a chip from the basket, dipped it in the salsa, chewed slowly. He went out of his way to get the glare now. She used it whenever he was making her uncomfortable, and it was kind of fun to get under Lexie’s skin. She was cute when she was all hot and bothered.