Kristen Blooming (14 page)

“But…but…our date?” Brandon sputtered, sounding suspiciously panicked.

“Is over,” Kristen told him definitively and then nodded toward the outside. “So go on. Get.”

* * * *

“Get. She told me to
get
!” Brandon looked across the bar at Riley, who stared back without a single hint of an expression. “And dumbass that I am, I got! What the fuck is with that? I mean, really, I’m letting this woman turn me into a complete pussy. Dylan’s right. I’m not in charge here, am I?”

The big bartender sighed.

“And, God help me, if the guys down at the station house ever hear about this, it’ll be get, get, get, get, all damn fucking day long. They’ll never shut up. Do you know what it’s like to have to listen to same damn story over and over again?”

That had Riley smirking.

“Yeah, I know, you’ve probably heard it all before. So, you got any advice?”

“Yeah. Order something.”

Brandon shot him a dirty look for that uncompassionate response and reached for his wallet.

“Beer me. No. Never mind that. Whiskey me.” Brandon slapped a fifty onto the countertop as he met Riley’s gaze. “And leave the bottle.”

That had the man rolling his eyes, but he did as told, snatching up the fifty and making no change. Brandon didn’t care. He didn’t even notice. He was still stuck on shocked.

This was supposed to be a perfect night. He was going to charm Kristen, dance with her, and then, at the very end, go in for another kiss. Instead, he had to call Dylan and confess that he’d screwed everything up again. It hadn’t helped that his friend hadn’t seemed surprised.

He hadn’t volunteered to come hang out with Brandon either, which left him sitting there alone drinking until all three Davis brothers piled into the bar, leading a small group of hands in. The boisterous group took up position at the pool tables in back while Devin, the youngest of the Davis brothers, cut a beeline for the bar.

“Hey, Brandon.” Devin greeted him a hard slap on the back. “How’s it going?”

That had Brandon turning his brooding gaze from the bottom of his glass up toward Devin’s questioning gaze. “I’m sitting here drinking whiskey by myself. How do you think it’s going?”

“That bad, huh?” Devin asked as he nodded to Riley. “Three pitchers, man, lots of cups.”

“Sure thing,” Riley nodded before pausing to look pointedly at Brandon’s whiskey bottle. It was almost half gone, and he wasn’t relinquishing the rest of it. Brandon made that clear as he reached out to pull it closer.

“So…” Devin plunked down in the seat beside him, not taking the hint when Brandon returned his gaze to the bottom of his glass. “I’m going to take a guess and say this is about a girl.”

“Kristen Harold.” Brandon nodded, knowing there was no point in staying silent. Devin wasn’t one to let up.

“Never heard of her.”

“She’s new in town.” Brandon glanced over at Devin. “She’s Gwen Harold’s cousin.”

“Gwen Harold. Oh, man, you are in trouble.” Devin shook his head sadly as Riley began to pile the pitchers up on the bar.

“Don’t I know it.” Brandon sighed. “I was supposed to go to church with her and her parents tomorrow. Going to make a good impression and all that, and then I blew it by running my mouth at Gwen. Jesus, I’m an idiot.”

“Aren’t we all at some point?” Devin countered. “And really? Church?”

Brandon understood the doubt in the other man’s tone and shared a look with him. “Kristen is a good girl.”

“Is that right?” Devin seemed to consider that for a moment. “Okay, here is what you do. Show up for church. If she’s that good, she won’t make a scene there.”

That was a good point, but Brandon didn’t know where it was going when Devin pulled his stool up a little closer and breathed a little too near Brandon’s ear.

“Then you make sure you get seated next to her, real close, and take her hand and just gently rub her palm with your thumb and
⎯
”

“Dude!” Brandon leapt backward, coming off his stool the second Devin tried to take his hand and show him what he meant. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Giving you good advice and getting your sorry ass out of that seat,” Devin shot back as he slid off his own stool to pick up the pitchers Riley had slid in front of him. “Now grab the cups and come join us. Moping and drinking alone isn’t going to do you any good.”

* * * *

Dylan certainly wasn’t moping around or drinking alone. He had no interest in joining Brandon for either of those events. Instead, he headed out to Dothan to right the ship Brandon had tried to sink once again. The man was on a roll, a downward slide, and Dylan wasn’t going to take that trip.

Whatever had happened in the bakery, he was sure it had been a fluke. He had his head right on his shoulders now, Dylan assured himself, as he turned into the Strut. He was early, but he figured Kristen couldn’t accuse him of following her if he was there first.

Taking up a spot at the bar, he waited damn near two hours for the place to fill up and Kristen and her friends to show up. During that time, Dylan received quite a few invitations from the young and the available, but he passed them all by, remaining rooted in his spot.

He wasn’t about to screw things up by having Kristen walk in and find him dancing with another woman. He knew he’d made the right call the moment he saw Kristen come through the door. Damn but she looked pretty tonight.

She was dressed, as always, in a modest outfit that complemented her slender frame. Dylan admitted that she wasn’t really his type as he sat there studying her. He liked big boobs, a round ass, and legs that made a man weak, but for some reason, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from Kristen.

She moved with such grace and smiled with such joy it was like watching a bolt of sunlight drift through a room, and he just wanted to reach out and be warmed by that heat. Dylan’s heart began to do that strange thing again where it pounded a little too hard. Damn if his hands weren’t growing damp. He was nervous and about to break out in a sweat.

How very unattractive was that?

He needed to get a hold of himself. He was here on a mission. To that end, he stayed seated, giving himself the time to study his prey and manage his reaction to her. That last one was harder than the first. Dylan’s gaze tracked Kristen’s every movement, and he found himself smiling when she smiled, feeling lighter when she laughed and annoyed when men came up to hit on her.

With her light-colored sundress and her hair all curled, Kristen was attracting every lowlife in the bar. Thankfully, she was also turning them all down, dancing only with her friends. Kristen really was a good girl, and God how Dylan ached to corrupt her.

Physically ached. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aware of his balls, but they were boiling, and his dick was throbbing. It was just lust he told himself, just lust, and the sooner he got Kristen naked and moaning beneath him, it would done. He could fuck this need right out of himself and go back to being happy.

Right then Dylan was far from happy. In fact, he was downright miserable, and he knew the cure. Finally lifting off his seat, he carried his beer and cut across to the table Kristen and her friends had taken. They’d settled back down when the music had turned from an upbeat honky-tonk rhythm back to a slow melody that invited the warm press of two bodies. Dylan knew who he wanted to press up against.

“Ladies.” He nodded to the table at large, casting quick glance across the group that fell awkwardly silent as his gaze finally landed on Kristen. “You’re looking lovely tonight.”

“Hmm.” Kristen eyed him, making that same non-committal sound her father had and addressing him with a good deal of similar skepticism. “Deputy Singer. What a surprise.”

“Hopefully a pleasant one.” He offered her a little smile, daring her to be rude and tell him it wasn’t.

“That remains to be seen,” Kristen murmured less than charitably. “What can I do for you, Deputy?”

“I’m just looking for a dance.”

“Hmm.”

“I swear,” he vowed as he held out his hand to her. “Just one dance and you’ll be done with me.”

“Somehow I doubt it.”

But that didn’t stop her from putting her hand in his or allowing him to lead her out to the dance floor. Dylan was vainly aware that he was the first man she’d said yes to. The only man. That thought filled him with a strange warmth that only bloomed hotter as he turned to sweep Kristen up in his arms.

She was such a little thing and tucked in perfectly against him as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lost himself in the smooth perfect sway of her body against his. Nothing had ever felt so right before, and he was in serious trouble.

* * * *

Kristen knew she was in trouble the moment Dylan wrapped his arms around her. She’d assumed he’d wanted to talk about Brandon, but Dylan didn’t say a word. He just tucked her against the hard length of his body and started moving in a slow circle that was lulling her into melting all over him.

God but he smelled good and felt even better.

Kristen couldn’t fight the pull to snuggle deeper into Dylan’s arms. The music, along with the voices raised in conversation, faded away as her world narrowed down to the heady scent of soap and musk, a distinctively masculine scent created to intoxicate a woman’s senses and leave her drooling and too weak to do anything other than sway to the rhythm he set.

Kristen breathed in deeply and sighed, letting go of her worries and her concerns as she simply enjoyed the moment. It didn’t even dawn on her to object when Dylan slid those big, broad palms of his over the slight curve of her ass and pressed in, leaving her in no doubt as to what he was feeling.

He was hard, and Kristen knew she should have been scandalized by the feel of his large erection pressing up against her, but right then, she couldn’t work up the energy to do anything more than sigh. Besides, he was hard all over.

Beneath the soft fabric of his T-shirt, Kristen felt the strong wall of his chest flexing ever so slightly with each slow shuffle of their feet. More than that, she could hear heavy thud of his heart beneath her ear. It matched the pounding of her own.

It was like a magical web wove around them. That magic shattered with the blare of an upbeat tempo that came roaring out of the speakers overhead, jarring Kristen back to reality. The reality was she was a little too hot.

Kristen blinked, taking in the world around her to realize that Dylan had danced her over to a dark corner. They were well out of everybody else’s sight, locked in their own private shadows. Those shadows held a tense sense of anticipation as Kristen raised her eyes up to meet Dylan’s.

He was staring at her as though he was seeing her for the first time, and before Kristen guessed his intent, Dylan latched onto her hand and started dragging her down a dark hall. That brought her all the way back to reality and the realization that she might be in true trouble now.

“Hey, wait.” She tugged on her hand but only ended tripping over her own feet as Dylan continued to drag her into the darkness. “Where are we going?”

“To have a long, overdue talk,” Dylan snapped back, sounding upset as he shoved through a door that led straight out into the bar’s back parking lot.

“Is this about Deputy Hammel?” Because honestly, Kristen couldn’t think of anything else they had to talk about.

“No.” Dylan spun her around and up against the rough, brick wall and pinned her there with the heavy weight of his own body. Only then did he bother to explain the situation. “This is about us.”

“Us?” He couldn’t have shocked her more if he tried. “There is no us.”

“There will be,” Dylan vowed. “And the first thing you’ve got to understand about me, honey, is I don’t waste time asking.”

“Asking? Asking wh
⎯
”

Kristen’s question was cut off by Deputy Singer’s answer as his mouth crashed into hers, stealing the words right from her lips.

Dylan didn’t know what he was doing. All he knew was that he was running on emotion. Emotion and need. Right then he needed Kristen. That didn’t make what he was doing right. It also didn’t mean he wouldn’t get slapped, but he didn’t.

Kristen’s hands came up, no doubt to shove him away, but as Dylan’s tongue sank into the sweet ambrosia of her mouth, her fingers, instead, curled around his shirt as she clung to him. For a moment, she stood just like that, stiff and uncertain. Then a second later she was melting against him just like she had on the dance floor, and all of Dylan’s control shattered in an instant.

It left him stunned and weakened, at the mercy of primitive needs that drove him to want more. Like a hot lance, that need seared through him as Kristen’s tongue began to duel with his, her fingers burying themselves in his hair as her body lifted toward him in open invitation.

Dylan growled, reveling in Kristen’s surrender. The soft feel of her breasts swelling against his chest, along with the sweet scent of a cunt warming for his touch, fueled the feral desires raging through him. They demanded ever more, and he ground back into her soft curves until they molded against his body, caressing him from chest to knee as they began to sway just as they had on the dance floor
⎯
back and forth in a rhythm as old as time.