Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Greer watched as Delaney dropped a pair of shank pullers on her right foot and hopped around like a one-legged kangaroo with a pained yelp. “You did what?”
“I made out with Alex Villanueva in front of Cal’s…um…your house.”
“While Cal was home?”
“Yep.” Greer stooped down to pick up the tool and set it back on the worktable. “I’m sure it was quite a show. Which is probably the reason he walked outside and tapped on the window with the butt of his shotgun.”
Now it was Delaney’s mouth that fell. “He threatened to shoot the man I need?”
“If he really meant to follow through, you know he could’ve done it without a warning.
” And there was no way Delaney needed Alex Villanueva quite as badly as Greer did.
Several days had passed since the kiss in her car, but her body hadn’t completely returned to a state of equilibrium.
She picked up a stray piece of leather from the worktable and rubbed it between her palms, imagining the way Alex’s skin had felt—smooth, supple, sinful.
They’d made the drive back to town in an awkward silence. It wasn’t until they’d parked close to her studio downtown that he’d cleared his throat and said, “You…uh…might want to tie up.”
She glanced down to find her shirt gaping. At least her boobs hadn’t been playing peekaboo. “Look, we…I—”
“Tell Delaney I’ll have these designs over to her as soon as possible.” His sour tone said he thought following through on that promise was futile though.
“But what about the apartment in the barn? We need to coordinate—”
“Pretty sure that if I’m anywhere on the property your brother partially owns, he’ll kill me while I sleep. Besides, we both know I won’t be in town much longer. I can handle the pink canopy at Sweetwater for a couple more days.”
“So you’ll finish the designs, but you don’t believe you’ll get the contract?”
“You really think your brother will give the okay for me to tool for PBC?”
“He doesn’t run the company Delaney does.
And if you’re the best, then Cal has nothing to say about it.
” Before Alex could climb out of the car, Greer grabbed his arm.
The hum of attraction was still there and left her aching and twitchy.
Later. They could deal with that later, once she talked with him more about Wild Card and the part she wanted him to play there.
“Don’t even think about leaving town without letting me know. ”
His expression remained pleasant, but a muscle in his jaw moved. “What happened out there, it was—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say something stupid that I’ll have to shoot you for myself. That…kiss…was a lot of things, but it wasn’t a mistake.”
“I was going to say accident.”
Which was ridiculous, but whatever let him sleep at night. “Promise me.”
“Fine. Tell Delaney I’ll get the sketches to her within the next couple of days.” Then he’d shoved out of her car and hadn’t looked back.
The piece of leather in Greer’s hand seemed to suddenly become brittle, and she focused once again on Delaney’s slack-jawed expression. “What?”
“You barely know the man.”
“I didn’t sleep with him.”
“Your face has the words not yet painted all over it. Do you think it’s smart for you to get involved with someone PBC does business with?”
Frissons of excitement cruised under Greer’s skin. “So you’ve decided?”
“Well, I want to see the designs first, but I’m definitely leaning his way.”
The boot shop’s front door opened and in walked Alex. He was wearing another of those damn long-sleeved shirts that covered up entirely too much of his bronze skin. His jeans were faded, his eyes were covered with a pair of dark sunglasses, and in his big hands, he carried his portfolio.
Although she tried to throttle it, Greer’s awareness revved up. Ready, set, go.
“Morning,” he said.
Delaney rushed forward to pull him toward the workshop. “I can’t wait to see what you have.”
Greer was definitely interested to see what was inside his portfolio, but God help her, what she wanted more was to see what was inside his clothes and maybe even deeper than that.
But she couldn’t think that way right now, so she blew out a silent breath and forced herself to think like a businessperson instead of a teenager with a crush.
They all settled at the worktable, and Alex said, “Look, if these designs aren’t right for PBC, then I want your word I can take them and use them with another—”
“Don’t make assumptions,” Greer said.
He pulled off his sunglasses, inching them down his nose until his gaze drilled into hers. Not a good way to quiet down her macarena-ing hormones.
“We’ve been looking forward to this for days,” Delaney rushed to add.
Alex stood again, unzipped his portfolio, then leaned over the table to spread out eight pieces, facedown.
“Alex, I only asked for two sketches,” Delaney said.
He looked up and gave Greer an eye frisk that tightened her stomach. “Greer already knows I’m an overachiever.”
Delaney choked out a laugh.
As much as Greer wanted to experience more of Alex’s overachievement, for now they needed to talk business.
She reached for the first sketch, and Alex shifted to block her.
“You can’t just go around touching a man’s private things.
” He circled the table and tapped the page in the upper left-hand corner.
“I wanted to give you a wide range of designs. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go through all of them before you make any decisions. ”
Delaney sat back in her chair and nodded.
The first sketch he revealed was an intricate tangle of jungle foliage—green leaves, exotically bright bromeliads, and was that…? It was. He’d hidden birds and other animals among the overarching design. Brilliant.
The next was the Day of the Dead illustration he’d been working on when she found him on the bench. He’d shaded the colors, making it both brightly festive and macabre.
With each successive flip of paper, it became more and more obvious that Alex Villanueva was in a class of his own when it came to tooling leather.
Delaney asked, “These are gorgeous, but lots of people can draw. Can you actually make these?”
“As I told Greer, I don’t promise anything I can’t deliver.” The last sketch wasn’t a sketch at all, but a single piece of leather the size of a front boot shaft. Alex flipped it over, and Greer’s breath stalled as if a bicycle handlebar had rammed into her solar plexus.
He’d tooled and dyed the leather to perfection.
The design was just this side of erotic with a dark-haired pinup girl sitting astride a saddle.
Her legs, barely covered by a teensy skirt, were spread across the leather in saucy invitation, allowing a peek at her lacy panties.
Her breasts were covered by a gaping fringed vest, her nipples clearly visible underneath.
Her right hand was wrapped around the pommel between her legs, and her neck was arced so that her dark curly hair rained down her back.
Greer leaned closer to study the detailing. Dice ringed the saddle skirt along with four other carved symbols—a heart, a spade, a club, and a diamond.
“Hope you don’t mind that I used your work as inspiration,” Alex said to Delaney, but his wicked grin was aimed directly at Greer, and she felt it all the way down to her pinkie toes.
“Oh,” Delaney said on a little huffing laugh, “hell no, I don’t mind.
But it wasn’t actually my design. It was Whit’s.
All I did was make them.” She shot a quick look past him to Greer, one that said they’d be completely off their rockers not to hire this guy.
“Alex, after seeing these, I’d like to—”
“Invite you to be a part of the Wild Card competition,” Greer jumped in before Delaney could offer Alex the contract outright.
Her expression transformed from fist-pump to what-the-fuck?
Yeah, she was gonna kill Greer the minute Alex walked out the door.
“As you can imagine, the other toolers are incredibly talented too,” Greer continued.
“So to be fair to everyone we’re considering, it only makes sense for each of you to design and execute a boot design under certain time constraints and conditions. ”
Alex’s face lost all expression. “What do this contract and your little artisan village have to do with one another?”
“Well, since whoever we choose will tool prophecy boots and be in and out of this town for as long as we have a working relationship, I think it’s only fair the community has a say in who we hire, and a competition is a perfect way to do that.
So the family won’t make the final decision. The people of Prophecy will.”
“This is bullshit,” he said so low Greer almost didn’t catch his words.
Whether or not he was talking about the stunt she’d just pulled on him or his skepticism about the boots and their need to be made in this town.
Then he raised his voice. “So when does this competition start and how long will it last?”
Yeah, Greer, what are those little details?
“This will be a part of my recruitment strategy for the artisan village. Not only will the tooling winner get an exclusive five-year contract with Prophecy Boot Company, but he or she will also have a chance to win the ten thousand dollar overall grand prize.” That and sprucing up the barn would pretty much wipe out what little cash her dad had left her in his will, but the gamble was worth it.
Umm-hmm. As if a switch had flipped, Alex’s expression went from pissed off to speculative. Alex was motivated by hard, cold cash.
“Greer—” Delaney grabbed Greer’s arm and yanked, “—can I see you for a minute in private?”
She was already dragging Greer toward the Gathering of Lost Soles, the room where abandoned prophecy boots were kept, when Alex said, “You two obviously have some issues to discuss. Do you want me to leave the sketches for now?”
Delaney, normally sunny and easygoing, shot Greer a look that could’ve disemboweled her. “If you don’t mind. I promise I’ll secure them in a locked drawer.”
“That’ll work.” He stacked the papers but tucked his leather sample with the pinup girl inside his portfolio. Greer felt the loss as though someone had hacked away part of her body. “But I’m sure you understand that I’d like to keep this.”
“Absolutely,” Delaney said.
Alex’s mouth was a grim line as he secured his portfolio. Without meeting Greer’s gaze again, he shoved it under his arm and stalked toward the front door. But when the door closed behind him, the bells made hardly a jingle.
As soon as he cleared the front windows and was out of sight, Delaney rounded on Greer. “What in God’s sweet name was that all about? You damn well know I was about to offer him the tooling contract.”
“Yes.”
Delaney’s boots thunked against the wood flooring as she stomped around the worktable where Alex’s drawings were stacked.
“Greer, I listen to you on business decisions because quite honestly, you have way more experience than I do. And I always want you and Cal to have input on the way PBC is run. But this…this… Are you trying to sabotage what I’m trying to rebuild? What your dad entrusted me with?”
A little corkscrew of shame twisted through Greer. Her impulsive decision could jeopardize the shop’s chance of hiring the most amazing leather tooler any of them had ever seen. “No, but I need Alex to stay.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve thought more about our conversation the other day. I’m going to build that artisan village, a real one, something that will attract people on its own. Something that won’t have to piggyback on PBC’s reputation to be successful.”
“But what you’re doing right now could hurt PBC. We need to work together, not against one another.”
“I just need a little time to convince Alex that Prophecy is his kind of place. Talk him into being a resident artist for Wild Card. That would be good for PBC too, and you know it. Once people see the quality of Alex’s work, they’ll be begging for custom boots tooled by him.”
“I can’t afford for him to get pissed—which he rightfully was when he stomped out of here—and shoot us the finger. I wanted the best, and that’s him.”
“I promise not to let him slip through either of our hands.” Even as she said it, she knew she had no control over a man like Alex.
Because his lack of domesticity was exactly what made her want to strip off all his clothes, check out where that serpent tattoo ended, and learn more about what made him tick.
“Which just means I have to offer him something he can’t resist.”
And by the way Alex’s eyes had flared when she mentioned the prize, she had him hooked.