Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Teller
I stepped into Mama’s house. Wynter was sitting on the counter with her feet swinging. Myles crowded close to her, and I was one hundred percent sure they’d been making out before I’d entered.
“Careful,” I warned. “You might get pregnant again.”
“Teller!” She laughed. Myles didn’t bother to hide how satisfied he looked with himself.
Someday I’d quit being envious of my siblings, but today was not that day.
I dug through Mama’s freezer just as Tate pushed through the back door.
“Did you get any answers on that brick business?” he asked.
Myles propped a hand on his hip but didn’t leave my sister’s side. The Bailey grapevine was in full force. I had kick-started it. News would be around town soon enough. The asshole who’d done it would be bragging, and then I would catch him. Madison didn’t want to go to the police and I wouldn’t charge through her boundary. But I could get around it.
“No,” I said grimly, removing a tray of burritos. Would Madison moan over these like the pork chops last night?
“Did she go to the police?” Tate asked like he knew the answer.
“Doesn’t trust ’em.” I had to set the burritos on the counter before my fingers froze. “I didn’t push her. It’s not like they’ll care about Flatlanders.” The bar was probably the last business law enforcement wanted to see resurrected.
“Officer Tom is a good guy,” Tate argued.
“But he’s glad not to have so many drunk drivers to pull over with Flatlanders closed.” I shrugged. “Plus, he’s nice to us. How would he be to Maddy?”
Tate frowned, but Myles nodded. He’d had a different upbringing than us. Myles would get how Maddy felt.
“Myles has a window guy,” Wynter offered, rubbing her husband’s back. “He hooked us up with the house. He supplies all the McCountry Mansions getting built in Jackson Hole.”
I had a McCountry Mansion.
“I’ll send you his info,” Myles said.
“I’ll take it, but I’m not sure it’ll be a good fit.” My sister and brother-in-law hadn’t built on a budget. The land had been gifted to Wynter by our father like mine had been. Myles was wealthy from his own distillery and investment endeavors. Madison didn’t have their means.
Everyone was looking at me, waiting for an answer, but I wasn’t outing Madison’s financial issues.
“I’ll check a little more local,” I said.
Myles’s eyes narrowed. “Smart to save on transportation costs.”
Wynter gasped. “Ohmigod. I’m sorry. Of course she’s going to be cost sensitive. She had a dump dropped on her.”
“It’s not that bad. I just wish she’d turn it into something she wants.” She claimed the bakery was an example, but from the way she ogled my kitchen, I had my doubts.
“She was turning Flatlanders around,” Wynter said. “Just by listening to Ruby and working on the socials. And I heard her cousin moved, so there’ll be no bartender staring at boobs.”
“I’m sure she’ll do fine.” I meant it, but I’d rather she worked on her own dreams, not someone else’s. I picked up the burritos. “Anyway, when I get home I’ll ask her about any changes she wants to make and get a budget for the windows.”
Tate crossed his arms, Wynter’s brows lifted, and Myles’s lips quirked.
“When you get home?” Tate asked, the corner of his mouth tilting up.
“She couldn’t stay there last night,” I argued. “It’s not safe.”
“Wait.” Wynter waved at the air in front of her like she was swiping my words out of the way. “She’s living at the bar?”
Fuck. “She’s private. I don’t want to spread her business around.”
“We’re not just anyone,” Wynter said, her mouth in a pout. “We don’t spread other people’s gossip. Outside our circle,” she amended. “I heard she gave up her apartment, but what about her parents’ place?”
“Sale’s pending,” Tate answered for me. “Not safe, huh? You keeping her nice and secure at your house?”
“It’s not like that.” Her wonder when she’d soaked in the guest room had eaten through my chest all night. I had built the home of my dreams, but I hadn’t considered it’d be anyone else’s fantasy. Yet I had wanted to give her a tour, to see the amazement on her face with each of my design and style choices. “She’s going through a rough time, and I’m not letting her go back until windows are installed and a security system is put in.”
“Might take a while,” Wynter said with mock seriousness.
“Those windows don’t get put in overnight,” Myles added.
I waggled a finger between them. “That’s not what it’s like.”
Tate clicked his tongue. “Better get those burritos back to your girl.”
“She’s not my girl.” Those words tasted sour. Madison was strong and attractive. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her butt, and the vision of her in her bra and underwear tormented me in the dead of night and sometimes in the shower.
I gave them all a hard look and marched out of the house. Tenor was just pulling in next to my pickup. He got out and looked at his phone. As soon as I saw his shit-eating grin, I knew what he’d seen on his screen. The Bailey text thread was burning like a wick.
“Don’t start,” I warned.
“Got a guest?” He eyed my container of food.
“You’re not one to talk since you had a pretend girlfriend staying at your house for several weekends.”
“And I know exactly what we were doing.”
I shoved a middle finger in the air and kept walking to my pickup. Ten minutes later, I pulled into my garage. Once I got in the house, I tucked the burritos into the oven, turned it on, and set the timer. They were frozen, but hopefully Madison wasn’t in a hurry.
I jogged up the stairs. I had an idea for today, but I didn’t know if she’d go for it. “Hey, Madison?” The guest bedroom door was closed. She couldn’t still be sleeping, could she? It was almost noon, but then her hours had to be fucked up with her night shifts. “Maddy?”
I was about to knock again when the door swung open. Madison blinked at me from behind a curtain of glossy hair. Her yellow pajamas were as sunny as the day outside. My blood pumped hot through my veins. I nearly took a step forward to push her back into the room and onto that rumpled bed that was probably still warm with her body heat. I fisted my hands to keep from burying them in those silky strands, tipping her head back and claiming her mouth.
She screwed up her face. “Shit, I overslept.” She pushed her hair off her face and her tight little nipples pushed against the fabric of her yellow pajama top.
Fuck me, she wasn’t wearing a bra, and her tits were as lush as I remembered. My mind fogged over with arousal. Then she turned and presented me with her full butt cheeks, barely covered with thin, pale yellow pajama pants.
“I’ll get dressed and be ready in twenty minutes. Sorry.” She bent over the bed to tug the covers in place.
When she was about to turn, awareness slapped me across the face. She was going to constrain that hair in a strict braid and dress in those jeans that could just as well be body armor.
I couldn’t have that. “I was thinking we could stay in, go over some numbers. Find a window contractor and talk about security for Flatlanders.”
She straightened and faced me, the dots of her nipples still poking through her top. Another minute and I’d sport a raging erection that would be impossible to hide. “Can’t you do that when I’m working?”
Yes. “I haven’t had a day off in a while.”
Guilt flashed across her face. “You can drop me off. Or I can call for a ride.” She wrinkled her nose.
There were no cabs in Bourbon Canyon. “I could call Seb. He also does Uber— No, wait. He teaches swim lessons on the weekend. Don’t worry about it.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. When was the last time she’d just rested and hung out? “I hate to burn a whole day.”
“We’ll still be working. Besides, I’ve got burritos in the oven.” She inhaled like she was going to argue. “They’re Mama’s, and I’d like to see if you let out that sexy little moan when you taste them.”
Her mouth dropped open and I deliberately let my gaze fall to her chest. Then I turned away. I was playing with fire around this woman. If I kept going, out of everyone in town, only I would know the real reason she fit her nickname. Madison Townsend was going to drive me out of my mind with desire.
Madison
I had told Teller I’d be ready in twenty minutes, but since he’d said he was cooking something, I hadn’t been able to resist the shower. I stood under the strongest stream that’d hit my skin in... ever.
Blisteringly hot water cascaded over me. At the nursing home, the locker room had an old showerhead and it took five minutes to get hot water. I hadn’t known what I’d been missing. A shower was a shower, but not all showerheads were made alike. Water beat at my skin, massaging out knots that had been there for years.
I let out a long moan. My eyes flew open. Could he hear?
His comment about my sexy moan should’ve been embarrassing, but when he’d followed it up by staring at my breasts, embarrassment had been the last thing I’d felt. This time, he hadn’t been surprised by me walking out in my bra and underwear like before, but the heat in his eyes had been the same.
Teller liked what he saw. And I liked that he liked it.
I shook my head, sending water droplets flying. I was being absurd. It was the proximity. That guy had his choice of women, and it would not be me. How many ladies had enjoyed this shower?
A depressing thought filtered through. They’d probably enjoyed the luxury of his shower—and him.
I was not made for jealousy and I didn’t have time for it. I had to finish washing up and get to work. The bottle of three-in-one made me smile until I put a dab on my palm and the woodsy, citrusy scent of Teller rose up in the steam around me.
When I was done, I towel-dried my hair. I couldn’t find a hair dryer and there was no Betty Sue down the hall to let me borrow hers like at the home. I squeezed as much water as I could out of it and got dressed in jeans and an old maroon University of Montana shirt. I left the flannel shirt I used for working in the bar on the dresser.
At the bottom of the stairs, I could see Teller’s head tipped back on the couch. His feet were kicked out in front of him. I circled around and pressed my fingers against my mouth. The space in my chest expanded, filling with affection.
He’d fallen asleep. His boots were off and set by the corner of the couch. His feet, in pristine white socks, were crossed at the ankles. I took the opportunity to look my fill.
The way his mouth puffed open with each exhale was adorable. His arms were crossed at his chest and even in slumber his biceps were big. The narrow waist to thick thighs was apparently a thing for me. Like a perfect seat.
I pivoted before I had any more inappropriate thoughts about a sleeping man. The savory smell of the burritos curled around my nose and my stomach clenched. I concentrated on hunger versus my arousal and went to the kitchen. The oven timer was about to hit zero. I shut it and the oven off. Digging around in the drawers, I found a silicone oven mitt.
With the delicious-smelling burritos cooling on the counter, I went back to the living room. I stood away from Teller as if he’d wake up and bite me—and I’d like it.
“Teller.” I twisted my fingers together. I didn’t want to get closer. What I really wanted to do was climb onto his lap and kiss him awake. “Teller,” I said a little louder.
His brow scrunched. I’d never associated Teller with being cute or adorable. He was manly. Larger than life. Brooding at times, usually toward me. That is, until he’d started working for me. Right now though, he was downright cuddly. The yearning to climb onto the couch next to him and fit myself to his side was strong.
“Teller,” I snapped. I couldn’t stand here and lust after things that were never meant for me.
He turned his head to the side like he was burrowing farther into the cushions. How tired was he?
The guy had been working three jobs. I should let him sleep, but it also felt wrong to enjoy his mom’s food when he’d already done manual labor this morning.
I crouched on the edge of the couch next to him and pushed at his knee. “Teller, wake up. It’s time to eat.”
His eyelids fluttered open and a soft smile graced his face. “Hey,” he said in a raspy, sleepy voice that called to every feminine molecule inside of me.
“Food’s ready,” I said quietly. “I didn’t want to eat without you.”
He trailed the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “I didn’t miss the moan?”
Heat pulsed in my cheeks. “No.”
He spread his fingers out and cupped my face. “I want to hear it again.” I was frozen, afraid he’d stop, terrified he’d keep going. “I really want to kiss you,” he said in that low, drugged voice.
“No, you don’t.”
“You seem to think you know a lot about me,” he murmured, his eyes still on my mouth.
Nothing existed around us. Just him and me in this small bubble. The whole world was blocked out. Why couldn’t I kiss him again? “I do know a lot about you.”
His mouth pulled up in a lazy grin. “Yeah? Tell me.”
“You’re used to everyone liking you, but you don’t care if they don’t. You’re used to women throwing themselves at you, but you don’t care if they don’t. You want to do the right thing, but I suspect that deep down, you don’t care if you don’t. But you do care that others will care.”
“Damn, Mads. You lay it all out there.” He brushed a few stray strands behind my ear, then ran his hand down my braid, draping it over my shoulder. He gave it a gentle tug. “Let me give it a try. You’ve had to be tough all your life, but you’re soft inside.” He trailed his finger across my chest, over the crest of my breast, stopping over my heart. “You have an independent streak a mile wide, but I bet you wish, for once, you could depend on someone. And you pretend you don’t care about anything when, in fact, you care. Very deeply. And that’s how people hurt you.”
Each insight stripped away a layer of the brick wall I’d built between myself and the world, leaving me raw and exposed. “That’s not?—”
“True?” He curled his fingers around my braid and pulled me closer. “It’s absolutely true. I bet that you’ll want to fire me after this. Cut your losses with the donation. Kick me out. Demand your keys back.”
Another row of my wall shattered. The spark of those thoughts had started to smolder. “You don’t know me,” I whispered as he reeled me even closer. I wasn’t resisting.
“I want to.”
“You date all the women, but you never settle down. She broke your heart.” I flattened my hands on his chest. When had I gotten this close? When had I adjusted my position until a few small movements would have me straddling his lap?
His eyelids grew heavy-lidded. “Your lips are too sweet to be talking about that bitterness.” He was stroking my face again, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip.
“You don’t know how my lips taste,” I whispered. I was so close now, all my nerve endings were alive, waiting for the tickle of his beard, the soft pressure of his mouth. My breasts felt heavy and need coiled low in my belly. He was the polar opposite of me, yet it was like we were magnets. I couldn’t quit getting closer to him.
“Let me find out.”
It wasn’t a question but more of a plea, and I gave in to my own curiosity. I touched my mouth to his. The shock of my lips on his almost had me pulling away, but he curled his hand around my head and took the kiss further and faster than I could’ve imagined.
He licked along my lips and I automatically opened for him, then he was twining his tongue around mine. I whimpered, and he dragged me onto his lap like I weighed no more than a throw blanket. I draped myself over him like I was one.
He held my head still so he could devour me. I was on top of him, but he was in charge, and maybe I was just like he said. I wanted someone I could depend on. Someone who could take the reins. Teller was doing that now.
I straddled him and did what I refused to admit I’d been dreaming of doing for weeks. For years, even. I buried my hands in his thick hair. Soft strands caressed my palms and I dragged my fingers over his scalp.
A greedy moan rumbled from his chest and into mine. I widened my legs so I could straddle him lower. The hard ridge of his erection ground against me, and damn, that felt good. How long had it been since I’d been with someone? I rocked back and forth over him and pleasure sizzled through my veins. It’d been so long.
Just as long since I had realized there was no one in my life I could trust or rely on.
I yanked back with a gasp and nearly tumbled off him. He caught me, but I wrestled away from him. He released me immediately and I nearly flopped backward. I managed to get my feet under me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. His cheeks had a flush I’d never seen before. Plenty of other women had.
I didn’t hold his dating against him, but he didn’t commit. It was why his ex eventually cheated with my brother. She got tired of waiting. I knew how this would play out—with me on the outside looking in. “You’re what’s wrong. I don’t want to get my hopes up, or to get strung along.”
He scrubbed his hand down his face, and despite his nap, he looked tired. “I told you I’m not that guy anymore.”
I pushed a hand through my hair, tearing at the bound strands and disrupting the braid. He didn’t know if he was that guy or not. He’d said he quit dating. “No, but you don’t want to be the bad guy. You’ll be nice about when you want to be done with me, but the ending will be the same.”
His jaw hardened and he looked away, his dark eyes tortured.
“It’s like you said.” I shouldn’t say this much, but I was as transparent as a rainbow to him. “I pretend not to care, but I do. And that’s how people hurt me.”
A play of emotions I couldn’t identify ran through his expression. He sat forward, wincing. If he was still hard, that was some ridge to hunch over. He pressed down on the fly of his jeans.
More heat spread through my body. No more thinking about his size or girth.
“You want to leave, don’t you?” he said.
No. I didn’t want to leave this house with its enviable kitchen and cozy bedroom and warm water. I didn’t want to leave the feeling of being surrounded by nature and solitude. “You can just give me a ride to town. You’re clearly tired and need a day off.”
He didn’t say anything, and I started to squirm under his direct stare. Could he see that my nipples were still hard? They would be every time I thought about that kiss.
“Or,” he said slowly, “you could stay here and we could go over some plans and the budget.”
I was rebuilding that wall he’d destroyed, only to have it crumble again. I had just told him that he could really hurt me and he was still trying to do the work I’d bought him for? “You don’t have to keep doing this.”
“I’m going to see it through.” He rose. I didn’t move away, but I had to tip my head back to meet his determined gaze. “If only to show you that I can commit to something.” He sidestepped around me. “I’ve gotta check on the burritos.”
“They’re cooling on the counter,” I said numbly. He committed to work more than anything in his life. It was women he couldn’t commit to, and nothing in his declaration had included me.