Lip Lock: Country Fever, Book 2 (5 page)

Unfortunately, he feared Hayley was the same for him. One taste and he’d be hooked.

“Too fucking deep,” he said to the wind whispering through the air vents.

Suddenly, the car felt too confining. Plush leather seats and a state-of-the-art stereo system were worthless when he had no one to share them with. Sunday drives on country roads with a woman at his side would be much more fun. Hell, stopping along the route and tumbling her into the backseat was better yet.

At the next intersection, an old Ford pickup overflowing with watermelons was parked on a wide gravel spot. A whole watermelon would go to waste in his lonely house, but maybe he could pawn some off on his employees tomorrow.

Brant pulled in behind the pickup, grinning when he saw the stunning, dark-haired woman jump off the tailgate and come forward with a smile. Then two men spilled out of the tiny cab.

Brant smiled at them as they laughed and shoved each other. While he looked on, the men caught up with the woman. One wrapped an arm around her waist, one around her shoulders, cozier as three than Brant had ever been as part of a pair.

A hunger gripped Brant, a fist twisting in his chest. In his lifetime, would he form such a close relationship with another soul on earth?

He climbed out of his car, wishing he’d brought his big Dodge Ram instead. Next to the Ford, his vintage Mustang looked pretentious. At heart, he was a country boy. However, if forced, he’d admit he had too many toys because he had nothing else to spend his money and time on.

The woman glided across the dirt pull-off on tough farm-girl boots, her glossy hair in a messy ponytail and worn jeans riding low enough that a sliver of bronzed skin peeked out. Ordinarily, if she were alone, he might flirt with her.

That was B.H.—Before Hayley.

“Howdy,” he greeted.

She smiled. Straight teeth. Definitely a braces kid in the past. “Nice day, isn’t it? You’re looking for a few watermelons to take to a picnic, I hope.”

Grinning at her enthusiastic tone, he shook his head. “Wish I were, but—” Why not take a few and leave them at the ball field for the players to eat between innings? He fished into his jeans pocket and pulled out his money clip.

The cowboys flanked their lady, two forces to be reckoned with. Protectors, both of them, and judging by the way they looked at her, fierce lovers. One tipped his dark hat. “Come on. Help a lady out, will ya?” He grinned as he said this, his good-natured smile as persuasive as his words.

Brant fingered his money clip. The gold flashed in the sunlight. “I’ll take three.”

“What a relief!” The woman twisted toward the tailgate and reached for a fat melon. Over her shoulder, she said, “I had a bumper crop on my organic farm this year, and the surrounding stores wouldn’t take any more. I hate for the little beauties to go to waste. Jens and Holden here have been selling them all over the county, but we still have this truckload.”

The men crowded close to her, rubbing against her almost. The display left Brant feeling hollow. Not jealous, but sad for his own state. One cowboy tucked a melon under each arm, while the other plucked the fruit from the woman’s arms.

Brant passed some bills into her hand, which she stuffed into the front of her jeans. “Well, I’ll tell everyone I know to look you up.”

“Appreciate it.” They all strode toward his car and stowed the melons in the trunk. So they wouldn’t roll, they wedged them with a box of orthodontic supplies he’d forgotten to unload.

“I thank you,” she said.

“No, thank you.” He shook her hand. The initial brushing of their palms didn’t ignite him at all. It was a simple touch, just as he’d felt with Elaine or with all the dates he’d gone on.

Hayley really was special—it wasn’t his imagination.

After climbing back into his car, he watched the trio crowd back into the old Ford. Their laughter echoed across the parking area, and Brant smiled reflexively, happy that someone in the world had a connection such as theirs, even if unconventional.

What
is
normal nowadays?

As he drove all over the countryside, wasting time and gas, he let his imagination run loose. With any luck, he’d be at Hayley’s side this afternoon. And this time, he wouldn’t let her escape without a promise of joining him for dinner.

Hayley focused on Drake, who was warming up in the bull pen. He was taller and broader than his peers. And his arm was a hell of a lot better.

“Hayley!”

She looked around at the female voice and waved at Marcy, Joshua’s mother. The perky brunette gave a comic wave in return before taking a seat lower in the stands.

The bleachers curved around the field, and many seats offered a better view, but Hayley needed to sit where she could see Drake. The ballet of his pitch had always captivated her. She could also pick up on his inconsistencies from this vantage point and try to offer him instruction later. The operative word being
try
.

Across the field, the luscious smell of hot dogs rolled out of the snack shack. Hayley had skipped dinner with the thought of cutting those calories, but now her stomach cramped with hunger. She hoped she could hold out until she got home and wouldn’t give in to the desire to buy a soda and dog. Especially since she only had a few dollars in her pocket until Friday’s payday.

The familiar
thwap
of Drake’s ball hitting his catcher’s glove was soothing music. She leaned against the bleacher behind her and closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, she almost choked on her own heart, which had suddenly jumped into her throat.

It was him. Dr. Foxfire. And the man was staring right at her—boring a hole through her with an intensity that scorched. Without unlatching his gaze, he started up the bleachers toward her.

The breath she held burned in her lungs until she grew dizzy. Sparks lit the air between them like a thousand fireflies on a warm summer night. Or was it just her imagination?

It was hard to look back at him. He was so damn…manly. Wearing faded jeans and a simple blue T-shirt, he looked like a
GQ
ad. She glanced away—then back.

He mounted the bleachers slowly, one confident step at a time, looking at her as if he was coming right for her.

Oh my God, he is
.

When he was three steps away, her body peaked with desire. Nipples bunching under her layers, pussy swelling. Her heartbeat quickened. A shiver ripped through her, and she tensed her muscles to keep her reaction from showing.

Two steps and she felt herself leaning forward.

One and she clenched her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him.

The voice of the commentator boomed through the loudspeaker, but Hayley couldn’t register his jumbled words. Probably because Brant’s words obliterated all the noise on the field.

“Hayley, we’re sitting together.”

What the hell kind of arrogant command was that? And why did it send such delicious tremors up her spine?

She scooted down the wooden bench and gave him what she thought was enough room. He took a seat, eating up more space than she’d expected. His thigh touched hers. Their shoulders were flush.

Inching away, she sought some breathing room. What was he doing here? Muddling her senses, that was what. Hell, were the people around her cheering?

Brant gazed at her until she squirmed. Then he looked at his hands, which twisted and flexed in his lap. “I hope you don’t mind sitting with me.”

What if she did? He hadn’t given her any choice, just a bold statement that they were sitting together.

She found her voice. “It’s okay. Do you have a child in the game?” Maybe he was rooting for the opposing team.

A grin creased his face, cutting perfect grooves around his hard lips and the corners of his sparkling eyes. His shoulders relaxed a little. “No. I came for you.”

She sucked in a harsh breath at his admission, heart thundering out of control. A band of wild horses on the prairie wouldn’t have made more racket. The
crack
of a ball being struck with a bat sounded, but she couldn’t pull her gaze from Brant.

“For me?” All at once, she was aware of her disheveled state—old jeans rolled to the knees against the heat, a vintage hippie shirt she’d snatched up at Anecdote the instant it came in, and her Reedy Tigers baseball cap jammed over the hair she hadn’t bothered to brush since morning.

Brant crowded closer, sharing so much heat she was liable to combust. His cologne flooded her senses, and she found herself drawing great, gulping breaths.

“Yes, I’m…sorry to be so forward.” He looked away, staring across the field. For a long minute she simply gaped at his profile, marveling at the play of sun over his features and the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his thick throat. When he swung his gaze back to her, her breath hitched.

“Hayley, I couldn’t get this out of my head—the way we look at each other.”

So there it was. He felt those lightning strikes to the soul too. Her breasts ached and her pussy throbbed. Lust hadn’t really been part of her world since the early days with Kent, but her body seemed to remember the word well enough.

“Home run for number seventeen, Drake Graff!”

The excited bellow snapped her to attention. Guilt and shock infused her system even as she jumped to her feet. She’d missed her son’s at-bat because she’d been drooling over his orthodontist.

Brant stood as well—too close. To hide her discomposure, Hayley started wildly clapping. Drake was running the bases with the graceful ease she’d once seen in another man who’d once stolen her wits—Drake’s father.

A good reason to stay away from Brant too.

Drake located her easily in her usual place in the stands and waved, his face all smiles.

Relief washed through her. Her son didn’t seem to be aware that Brant was beside her. Damn, beside her was an understatement. Their bodies were so close she was practically in his arms.

Squeezing her thighs together, she abruptly sat.

An amused smile graced the man’s face as he took his place beside her. “He really is a talent.”

“Yes.” Drake—neutral territory. They weren’t talking about the constant heat waves rolling through her core or the fact that her nipples were about to slice through her shirt. “He’s a natural.”

“I’m sure you’re extremely proud.” His gaze flicked to her ball cap, then down to her face once more.

For some reason, he seemed bigger, more…man. In his spacious office, his big frame had overwhelmed her. Out here in the open air, under the blue Wyoming sky, his presence was somehow even more intrusive.

She couldn’t sit here forever and pretend he hadn’t sought her out. Mustering the courage, she spoke. “What did you think was going to happen between us today, Dr. Foxfire?”

“Brant.”

“Yes.” Breathless.

He shrugged, a carnal look on his face that flattered her ten ways to horny. He chafed a hand over his features as if to wipe it away.

She bit her lip. No, she couldn’t allow herself to be endeared by that gesture. But damn, he was the finest male specimen she’d seen in too long, and he was here with her—for her.

The parents and fans erupted around her once again, but she didn’t sway her gaze from Brant’s. In the back of her mind, she realized not much time had passed since Drake’s hit, and he’d still be on the bench.

“Hayley, you feel it too. That electricity between us. Don’t deny it.”

Yanking her gaze free, she focused on her knotted hands. “So what exactly does it mean to you?”

He moved in, placing his mouth to her ear. A full-body shiver claimed her as his heated breath washed over her sensitive skin. This was definitely a place she didn’t caress in her quest for self-pleasure. After so many years, she’d forgotten that so many other body parts were erogenous zones.

“It means that I’m not going to leave you alone until you go out with me and explore this connection we have.” His harsh growl sent her into paroxysms of bliss. In an instant, she was hovering on the brink of insanity. If he asked her to go to the parking lot with him right now, she’d put her hand in his.

No. Calm down
.

She wasn’t a horny teenager.

Fighting the urge to turn her face up for his kiss, she tried looking for anything to distract her. Two rows down, Mrs. Ellis was standing and berating her son for missing a ball in the outfield. All the mothers wanted to bitch-slap the woman, but they kept their mouths shut.

And from below, Marcy had obviously noticed that Hayley wasn’t sitting alone. A knowing smile crossed her face, and she said something to another mom who sat nearby. Both women looked pointedly at her.

Squirming from the flames licking at her insides and the scrutiny of her friends, Hayley leaned away from Brant.

“I don’t know if I can go out with you.”
Because the way you’re making me feel scares the bejeezus out of me
.

“Yes, you can.” His forceful tone did things to her insides she didn’t wish to contemplate.

“But—”

“Give me one good reason why.”

Damn, when he talked to her that way, she melted.