Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders 15)
His smoky eyes and deep rumbling voice hypnotized her. She found herself leaning closer. “Why?”
“You had this way of scaring most of the boys off.”
“Except for you.”
“Except for me.”
“Why?” she asked again.
“I knew you. I’d seen your sweet side beneath that in-your-face persona you’d adopted the year you grew from a shrimp into a pinup dream.”
Rory bit back a groan. In ten months she’d shot up eight inches, a complete transformation from a waifish girl into a clumsy amazon. She’d gone on the offensive to stave off anyone verbally attacking her and calling her a freak.
“Your height, your brain, your body—” big shocker that Dalton didn’t offer her a lascivious grin, “—were intimidating, even for me, and we were friends. I dreaded the day when you finally realized how gorgeous you were. So you were taking off for college and I wanted a piece of you for myself—a piece that no other guy would ever have.”
He’d always been calculating; she hadn’t expected him to admit it. She didn’t know how to respond.
“But I promise you that’s not me anymore.”
She snorted. “So you’ve changed?”
“Yep.”
“How?”
“In all the ways I needed to. Getting away from here was the smartest thing I ever did. I got a chance to see the world outside of Crook County and the McKay ranch. I got to see who I was outside of bein’ part of the McKay family.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Dalton took her hand. “Because in order for you to trust me I have to prove to you I’ve changed. And I intend to do whatever it takes to do that.”
Keep it light. “Whatever. I don’t suppose you bought dessert.”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Two of those fancy pudding cups from KFC with the whipped cream and chocolate shavings on the top.”
Rory smiled. “I remember how jealous we were of the kids who got pudding cups in their lunches because we never did. Now I can buy them anytime I want and I never do.”
Dalton said, “I buy ’em. Or I did when I lived here.”
The way he kept saying that made her think he wouldn’t be here permanently.
Rory cracked the foil on her cup and scooped out a tiny bite. And another.
“You still eat pudding like it’s a rare delicacy. It’s cute.”
She stuck out her tongue. “How’d you end up renting this house on such short notice?”
“I know the owner. She’s been meaning to install updates before she decides to rent or sell. Since I’m not doin’ anything else, we’re swapping rent for my handyman skills.”
Rory wanted to ask who owned the house. If the woman was a former lover he’d kept in touch with.
Dalton kept talking. “But she’s getting the better end of the deal. A FedEx package was on the steps when I got here with a list of changes five pages long. I also have a packet of paint chips color-coordinated to each room.”
“So what are you doing first?”
“Be easier to show you.” She followed him out of the kitchen. He led her past the empty living room and cut down a hallway with five closed doors. He paused outside the last one. “Too bad you don’t have sunglasses on ’cause you’ll need them.
He opened the door and Rory winced.
“Holy shit that’s hideous.” The room was neon yellow. Not a pretty yellow, but a cross between yellow and green so it looked like someone had pissed all over the walls. “How many coats will it take to cover this?”
“About ten thousand.” He flattened his palm against the wall. “Fortunately I’m texturing this room first, so that’ll cut some of the glare.”
Since she was by nature such a helpful person, it was on the tip of her tongue to offer to help him paint.
Don’t do it.
“It’s a small house so it’ll be a short tour.”
“This place isn’t as small as my cabin. Sometimes it makes me claustrophobic.”
Dalton turned around so fast she ran into him. “Your cabin is great.”
“Great in that I don’t have to pay rent, but that’s about it.”
He brushed a hair from her cheek. “And?”
“And living there makes it seem like I never left here.” Somehow the man had backed her against the wall. “Dalton, what are you doing?”
“You have chocolate pudding on your lip and I’m gonna lick it off. And then I’m gonna kiss you. Really kiss you like I’ve been dyin’ to since you showed up today.”
Since when did he… Oh God. A warm, wet tongue slid across her lower lip. He tugged her bottom lip between his teeth and sucked. He slowly released it and crushed his lips to hers.
Dalton’s mouth demanded. Controlled. Teased. He clasped her hands in his, letting the kiss ebb and then building it back up. No body parts were touching beyond the clasp of their hands and their locked mouths.
Rory never remembered him kissing her like this—with such single-minded absorption.
That’s because he’s had lots and lots of practice.
He ended the kiss before she pulled away. He murmured, “I had to do that out here. Because if I did it in my bedroom we might never come out.” He placed a kiss below her ear.
She ignored how her body tingled just from his soft mouth on her skin. Annoyed, she gave him a tiny head-butt. “Wishful thinking, McKay.”
He chuckled. “Guess we’ll see.”
Smug man. “And I hate the beard anyway.”
He stepped back and opened the door.
Rory looked at the sleeping bag on the floor, then at him and poked him in the chest. “I’m beyond the age that doing it in a sleeping bag holds any appeal for me.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Two sleeping bags hooked together out in the middle of nowhere, beneath a big starry sky, will always hold appeal for me.”
“Who are you?” She poked him again. “It’s this damn beard that’s turned you into a mountain man, isn’t it?”
“No.” He kissed her. “I’ve changed. But with you, proof is in the pudding—ha ha—so that’s what you’ll get.”
“More pudding?”
Dalton looked at her—more like he looked through her. His blue eyes held something warm and dark that she’d never seen and her belly cartwheeled.
That’s when she knew he’d honed that boyish charm into a sharper instrument. A much more dangerous tool.