She was hiding.
And I wanted to know why.
How this quest for knowledge on my part necessitated a need for me to fuck her, I didn’t know. I knew only that I wanted her. I wanted to kiss those full pink lips, suck on those pretty brown nipples—yes, I got a look when she was in the hot tub. I’m human, after all—and I wanted to sink myself into her lush body.
Hell, I could leave it at that. Riley Mansfield wouldn’t be the first woman who’d rented my cabin who I’d wanted to fuck.
This one was different, though. I had no doubt. No doubt at all.
Troy came back with our drinks, and I took a long sip of my beer. This was an old house, so Trudy didn’t have the biggest kitchen or bar area. She brought in kegs of whatever she could get the best deal on from the liquor distributor in Billings. When the keg ran out, she brought in a new one, and it was always different, but she made sure it was good quality beer. While Guinness was known for their stout, they also made a damned good lager. Trudy probably got a good deal on it. She always offered a bottled beer too. This week it was Stella Artois. What it would be next week? No one knew. Same with the wine. She got cases of decent wine at the best price she could, and when they were gone, she brought in something new.
Riley Mansfield was probably used to a wine list a mile long.
“What is a stinger, anyway?” I asked.
“I’m not quite sure. They taste kind of minty.” She laughed. “And they sometimes make me drop my fork.”
Another laugh from her. Oddly, I felt as though I’d been given a gift.
I smiled. Riley Mansfield was a true enigma, but I knew one thing.
She and I would be going to bed together.
I wanted her that much, and I was prepared to do or say anything to get inside that hot little body. Instinctively, I knew she didn’t let just anyone in.
But she would let me in.
I’d make sure of it.
Troy returned to take our orders. I ordered lamb chops, of course. They would come with a potato or grain and a vegetable, whatever Trudy was able to get.
Riley paused a moment. “Is the pasta dish vegan?” she asked.
“Vegan?” Troy said.
“Yeah.”
“It’s vegetarian.”
“I can figure that out by the description. I want to know if it’s vegan.”
Troy look to me, confused.
“Is there butter in it? Eggs or any other dairy product?” I asked.
“I’ll have to check with Trudy,” Troy said.
“Never mind,” Riley said. “I’m not vegan. I was just wondering. I’ll have the pasta. Oh, and a cup of the tomato bisque with wild rice.”
“You know,” I said, “that sounds really good. I’ll have the soup too, Troy.”
Troy nodded and left.
“He seriously doesn’t know what vegan means?”
“I’m not quite sure myself,” I admitted. “I just guessed on the dairy and egg thing.”
“Really?”
“We’re pretty meat-and-potatoes here in Montana. But Trudy does make one of her offerings vegetarian every night.”
“Vegan is kind of vegetarian on steroids. It means no animal products at all, including eggs and dairy. Some vegans even insist on vegan wine.”
“Isn’t wine vegan by nature? Grapes and all?”
“Most wine is filtered using animal proteins, like egg white. True-blue vegans won’t drink it.”
“You’re not vegan, then?”
“No, I’m not even vegetarian. Though I don’t eat a lot of red meat.”
“Then why did you ask if the pasta was vegan?”
“Because I care about what I put into my body, Matt. I like to be informed.”
“But you ordered the pasta anyway.”
“Yeah”—she looked down at her lap for a second and then met my gaze—“I figured I’m on vacation—just a high school business ed teacher on vacation. So what the hell?”
I raised my beer mug. “I will definitely drink to that.”
I didn’t get another laugh out of Riley, but I did get a gorgeous smile. She picked up her wine goblet and took a drink.
Troy brought our soup then, and I took a taste. Interesting. The nuttiness of the wild rice added a nice contrast to the sweet and savory of the tomato.
“This is delicious,” Riley said after swallowing her first bite.
“Told you I’ve never had a bad meal here.”
“I believe it. I’m excited to try the pasta. Not that I usually eat dessert, but I noticed that there’s no dessert listed on her menu.”
“Trudy likes to surprise us, but you can get an idea. Just watch the other diners. Someone will have dessert before we get to ours.”
“You know? I might just have dessert tonight. A surprise sounds great.”
“Surprises are always good.” I couldn’t help smiling. “Why don’t you normally eat dessert?”
“I just don’t.”
“Honey—” Shit. I’d done so well. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It doesn’t bother me so much anymore. What were you going to say?”