Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
A s the noisy group traipsed across the square to the Rockin’ Raccoon, Tracy congratulated herself on making it through the meeting in one piece. That hot glance from Adam had almost undone her, but she’d recovered her cool. Mila was suspicious, though.
She might have already asked Adam what was going on. The three of them had been a team for a long time. Once Mila started digging, she’d get the story out of them.
Tracy’s history with the Bridgers had begun in third grade. A new kid in town, she’d discovered Adam and Mila were her neighbors. Her parents had just bought property next to the immense Laughing Creek Ranch. Her dad had immediately named their much smaller spread Giggling Streams.
Two weeks into the school year, Tracy had proudly announced to her mom that she was best friends with Adam and his twin sister Mila. She’d decided they must be twins because they were the same age even if they didn’t look anything alike.
By then her mom had spent time with Raquel, Adam’s stepmom, and had all the facts. She’d carefully explained that Spence, a widower with three kids, had married Raquel, a widow who’d also had three kids. They’d had one more together and were expecting a second kid soon.
Adam and Mila weren’t twins. Instead they were stepsister and stepbrother. But they don’t use that term, her mom had said. They’re all just the Bridger Bunch.
Tracy had been enthralled and extremely jealous of her new friends. Some kids had all the luck, getting to be part of a bunch .
But she was almost as lucky to be living on the ranch next to theirs. Although she wasn’t a Bridger, they’d welcomed her into their midst. She thought of herself as Bridger Bunch adjacent, almost but not quite the ninth child.
Mila became the sister she’d never had and Adam was the brother she’d always longed for. Then, in their sixteenth year, she’d been horrified to discover that watching Adam strip off his T-shirt at the water hole gave her squiggles in her tummy.
She’d immediately hunted up a boyfriend. Clearly she needed one if she’d let Adam affect her that way, of all people. And she’d never had such thoughts again. Until New Year’s Eve.
During Sean’s breakup speech, he’d blamed her for not being, as he put it, all in. Whatever that meant. She’d been willing to marry the guy. Wasn’t that proof that she’d been all in?
She’d pondered his rejection all through a sucky Christmas week, and by New Year’s had been in the mood to get plastered. Evidently she’d also been in the mood to snog Adam.
He’d responded like most guys would when the hour is late, booze is involved and the kiss is smokin’ hot. His long letter of apology demonstrated his deep regret. She’d texted an apology back.
Neither communication had fixed the awkwardness she’d created between them. She’d dreaded the in-person meeting and had figured they’d blunder their way through it.
Instead, the first time they’d dared to look directly at each other…yowza. What was she supposed to do about that ? They couldn’t still want each other. They just couldn’t. But…they did.
She hadn’t figured out a strategy for handling this unexpected turn of events and she was running out of time. Mila knew something was wrong but leveling with her wasn’t an option. What a mess.
Fortunately Mila wasn’t able to quiz her on the way over to the Raccoon. Instead Auntie Kat bombarded her with questions about the requirements for a private club and Mila couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
Warmth and country music welcomed the crowd as everyone stepped inside the cheerful bar. Too bad about the Valentine decorations, though.
The dreaded day was coming up fast and she was doing her best to ignore it. Instead she focused on the upbeat music. Clem, the owner, always provided a live band on council meeting nights as a gift to those who’d volunteered to serve.
Since Adam had been at the tail end of the group walking over, the band ended their tune just as he walked in. Perfect timing for a cherished Raccoon tradition—Clem’s animatronic show.
Whenever someone noteworthy came through the door, like the new mayor for example, Clem flipped a switch behind the bar. A spotlight focused on a lifelike raccoon musical trio mounted on a shelf above the bar.
Outfitted with a guitar, string bass and fiddle, those critters launched into the Rockin’ Raccoon theme song Clem had written. Everyone joined in.
Tracy gave it her all, grateful for a chance to release some of the tension created by close contact with Adam.
We’re rockin’, yes we are, and hangin’ in this bar, cause we are like family as you all can plainly see, so keep on rockin’ tonight! We’re rockin’, yes we are, and drinkin’ at this bar, come join us, near and far and keep on rockin’ tonight!
Tracy’s dad had once admitted that the animatronic raccoons were the reason he’d fallen in love with Mustang Valley. She adored the raccoons, too. She loved living in Mustang Valley.
That said, she’d rather be on a world cruise, or climbing Mount Everest, or taking a rocket ship to the moon—anywhere but in this bar tonight with Adam Bridger.
They hadn’t shared space since the New Year’s Eve party at the Raccoon. After the band had played Auld Lang Syne, Clem had turned on the musical raccoons. Then Adam had offered to walk her home, and… now she was having major PTSD.
Maybe he’d keep his distance. That would be a blessing. They’d survived the meeting, so if he’d just?—
“Can I buy you a beer?”
A chill zipped up her spine. Then her heart took off, galloping faster than her horse Moonlight. Turning, she faced the gorgeous cowboy who refused to stay out of her dreams, no matter what setting she used on her sound machine.
He’d taken off his Stetson and the worried crease in his forehead told her he was concerned about her. He’d looked just like this the time she’d fallen off Moonlight and dislocated her shoulder.
She didn’t want him to worry, especially about her. The anxiety lurking in his brown eyes made her chest hurt. His half-smile was tentative, as if he might be bracing for a rejection.
She hesitated, seeking a way out. Oh, who was she kidding? She couldn’t say no and risk hurting him. “Sure. That would be great.”
The tension in his expression eased and he let out a breath. “Be right back.”
“I’ll get us a table.”
He paused. “How about that little bistro two-top?”
Only one table fit his description, a wrought-iron set with two dainty chairs in a back corner. All the other tables and chairs were wood. Evidently he wanted privacy, likely to talk about New Year’s Eve. She gulped. “Okay.”
Turning away, she hurried through the crowd, responding to greetings with a smile and a quick comment.
Mila caught her arm. “Where’s the fire, Trace?”
“Adam needs to discuss some sensitive issues. I’m hoping nobody’s snagged the table in the back corner.” She avoided looking Mila in the eye and focused on her dark curls. “When did you stop straightening your hair?”
“Three weeks ago. Had ’em cut off a bunch, too.”
“Looks good.”
“Thanks. Listen, if Adam’s worried about Kat?—”
“It’s not her, at least not specifically. Sorry, Mil, I can’t talk about it.”
“No worries.” Mila smiled. “Seeing you in action tonight was fun. It’s been too long. We need to catch up.”
“We will.” She edged away. Letting Mila think she and Adam would discuss legal problems wasn’t exactly lying, was it? Oh, hell, yes it was, and she hated using doublespeak on her best friend. But what was the alternative? “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Great.”
Wonderful. Now she’d promised to call, which would lead to a coffee or lunch date where she’d have to monitor every word that came out of her mouth. If nothing else, she and Adam should dream up a cover story for their apparent strained relationship.
Nobody had claimed the cramped little spot Adam had requested. Not surprising. The Raccoon was all about community and tonight that spirit was in full swing. Residents called this monthly Thursday night gathering the council meeting after party .
Hanging her coat on the back of a chair and leaning her soft-sided briefcase against the wall, she sat down and surveyed the crowd. Some were dancing, others preferred to cluster by the bar and a few had pushed tables together to accommodate a large group, like the Bridger Bunch.
She spotted Adam, a foam-topped mug of beer in each hand and his hat back on as he navigated past his family. He paused by this or that person to say something. What excuse would he give for not joining them? Would his explanation line up with hers?
He finally made it to the table, set down both mugs and pulled two napkins out of his jacket pocket. “Wasn’t sure I’d get here before closing time.”
That startled a laugh out of her. “Everybody wants a piece of you.”
“It’s a treat to hear you laugh.” Not looking at her, he placed the napkins on the table and put the mugs on top of them. “I miss that more than anything.”
She sucked in a breath. “Getting right to the point, are we?”
“Have to.” He shrugged out of his jacket, draped it over his chair and sat. He dwarfed the wobbly little thing. Laying his hat on the table, he picked up his beer. “We’ve got like five minutes before someone decides to wander over, and speaking for myself, I want to fix this.”
She clutched her mug in both hands but left it on the table. “The truth is, I’m embarrassed and I don’t know how to get over it.”
“You have no reason to be embarrassed.”
“I do so!” She kept her voice down although the noise level likely kept anyone from hearing what they said. “You were kind enough to walk me home and make sure I got up that steep staircase. Instead of thanking you, I— well, we both know what I did. It’s humiliating.”
“You were hurting. Breakups are no fun.”
“That’s no excuse.”
“Sure it is. Especially when it happens right before Christmas. Sean’s timing was terrible.”
“He admitted that, but he said he couldn’t go on pretending things were okay. Which is legitimate.”
“I suppose, but I didn’t ask you to have a beer with me to discuss Sean. I was out of line New Year’s Eve, and?—”
“Technically New Year’s Day, but?—”
“Whenever. I never should have?—”
“I put my tongue in your mouth. I unzipped your jacket. I?—”
“I could have stopped you. Thank God you didn’t have any condoms, or?—”
“I like to think I wouldn’t have let it get that far.” She liked thinking it, but it wasn’t true. If she hadn’t thrown away an entire box in a fit of anger after Sean’s rejection, they would have had sex.
“Yeah, well, obviously I wanted to get that far. I was temporarily nuts and it won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” If sitting in this cozy spot discussing their New Year’s Eve incident was supposed to calm her down, it wasn’t working. His aftershave teased her senses and his low-pitched voice stirred her up. She might have to find an excuse to get the heck out of there.
He held his beer toward her. “To moving on.”
She lifted hers and gave his mug a gentle tap. “To moving on.” She took a swallow. Moving on was a vague concept, general enough that she could drink to it.
What did it mean in this case? She had no idea. Try as she might, she couldn’t blot out the memory of his strong arms holding her tight and his eager mouth setting her on fire. And she still burned.