Chapter 5
As tired as Moe was, he was hungry and needed to burn off the adrenaline that spiked as soon as he entered the hotel room and saw all the possibilities of a king-sized bed and a very small chair Breely couldn’t possibly sleep on.
Holy hell.
He tossed his backpack on the desk and dug inside for his toothbrush, a comb and a fresh black T-shirt. He shot a glance at Breely, who stood looking out the window. He remembered how embarrassed she’d been standing outside the posh hotel, wearing the clothes she’d worn to work at the tavern.
“I have a clean T-shirt if you want to wear it instead of your work shirt,” he said.
Breely turned, biting her bottom lip. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.” He dug in the backpack and pulled out another black T-shirt and tossed it her way.
She caught it and held it up in front of her.
Moe wasn’t a big guy, but Breely was petite. The T-shirt would hang almost to her knees.
She smiled brightly. “Thanks.”
“You can have the bathroom first,” he said.
With a nod, she grabbed the spare toiletries kit and a brush from her purse. With the T-shirt over her shoulder, she ducked into the bathroom.
Moe crossed to the window and stared out at the Denver skyline and the streets below.
He didn’t much care for cities, preferring the wide-open spaces and mountains of Montana and Wyoming.
Having grown up in the farmlands of South Dakota, the buildings packed close together and the crowds made him long to get back in the air, away from traffic, road rage and cranky people.
Standing where Breely had stood, looking down at the bright city lights, he could see the city from an entirely different perspective.
Breely had been more or less a prisoner on a ranch in Montana all her life.
Being the daughter of a very wealthy man hadn’t been the perfect life everyone would have assumed.
She’d probably never walked down a city street, smelled the variety of delicious foods available to enjoy or sat in a jazz club, listening to a band playing.
As late as it was, they’d have to settle for a bar and grill. The restaurants would be closed, but the nightlife was just getting warmed up.
The bathroom door opened a lot sooner than he’d expected.
Moe turned as Breely stepped out, her red hair pulled up in a messy bun on top of her head with soft, loose curls cupping her chin.
She’d traded the Tumbleweed T-shirt for his black one.
With the sleeves rolled up to her shoulders and a knot tied in the hem that rested on her hip, she looked like a hip city girl ready for a night on the town.
“Is this okay?” she asked.
“My T-shirt never looked better.”
Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. “Thanks.”
Damn, she looked good. Her stubborn determination to be independent, coupled with her innate vulnerability, had Moe tied in knots. One minute he wanted to shake her; the next, he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss that pretty mouth until she opened to him completely.
His pulse pounded through his veins, sending hot blood south where it had no business. He’d promised not to hurt her or make love to her unless she asked him to. And what were the chances of her asking him to make love to her when they’d only met a few hours ago?
He brushed past her. “I’ll only be a minute.” If his tone was a little gruff, good. Maybe she’d remain distant from him if he remained grumpy and angry. It wouldn’t be hard to do, considering the level of sexual frustration building steadily since they’d entered the hotel room.
He closed the door and drew in a deep breath. If he had time, he’d jump in a cold shower to shock his libido into submission.
His stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten much at the tavern, preferring not to fly on a full stomach. Now, he was hungry, horny and needed something to distract him from the pretty redhead.
Moe stripped out of his shirt, ran cold water into the sink and splashed it on his face.
It wasn’t the icy shower he needed, but it would have to suffice.
With a hand towel, he patted his face dry, then pulled his fresh T-shirt over his head and tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.
He couldn’t help comparing the reflection of him in a black T-shirt with Breely in a duplicate shirt.
That knot at her hip made him want to untie it and push his hand beneath the hem to touch her naked skin.
If he didn’t pull his head out of those kinds of thoughts, he’d have to take the time for that cold shower. After quickly combing his hair, he brushed his teeth and left the bathroom.
He found Breely staring out the window again.
“They call New York City the city that never sleeps.” She turned to Moe with a twisted smile. “I think Denver might be the same. Back on the ranch, we were in bed by nine-thirty. It took me a while to get used to working the Friday and Saturday night shifts until 2:00 am.”
“Does anyone ever get used to working that late?” He held her jacket up for her to slip her arms inside.
She pulled it over her shoulders and turned with a smile. “I learned to sleep late the next morning.”
“You can sleep in tomorrow.” Moe folded his leather jacket over his arm, still too hot to wear it. “We don’t have to fly out at ten o’clock.”
“I’m not on the schedule to work tomorrow at the tavern, but I need to log in and check my emails for the foundation.”
“Take all the time you need.” He didn’t bring up the fact that going back to work at the tavern probably wasn’t a good idea. She’d had enough thrown at her for one day. He’d try to make the rest of the evening relaxed and non-confrontational.
He opened and held the door for her.
As she started through, she touched a hand to his chest, sending a bolt of electricity sizzling through him.
She tipped her head back, and her green-eyed gaze met his.
“I’m not always so hard to get along with.
And I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful for all you’ve done.
I do appreciate that you saved my life. It’s just…
” Her gaze dropped to where her hand lay on his shirt.
“It’s just that you’re with a man you don’t know, and you’re hanging onto your newfound independence by a hair.” He closed his hand over hers and squeezed gently. The warmth of her small hand in his made him instantly aware of his mistake. Now that he held her hand, he couldn’t let go.
He pulled her past the threshold into the hallway. Moe didn’t release his grip on her hand. Nor did he hold tight. If she wanted to be free, all she had to do was tug gently.
They walked down the hall, rode the elevator and stepped out on the street hand in hand.
They walked several blocks before Moe’s stomach overrode other parts of his anatomy, reminding him he was hungry. At about that time, he found an Irish pub. “Do you like Irish food?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Her eyes brightened. “I do like potatoes and lamb.”
He opened the door, and they entered. The place was hopping with people crowded around the bar, watching a soccer match on the televisions hanging from the ceiling.
All the tables were full, as well as the seats at the bar.
Moe was about to turn and leave when a couple rose from a booth in the corner. Moe hurried Breely over to claim the table.
A man with a large plastic tub arrived, scooped the dirty dishes into the tub, wiped the table and left. He was followed quickly by a waitress to take their drink orders.
Breely surprised Moe by ordering a Guinness.
“What?” she said with a frown. “I lived on a ranch. We drink beer after a hot day in the sun. My dad prefers Budweiser. Mom and I like Guinness.”
“I’ll have the same,” Moe said.
When the waitress returned with their beers, Moe offered to order for Breely, choosing shepherd’s pie. He ordered fish and chips for himself. “If you don’t like the shepherd’s pie, you can have the fish and chips. I like both. Or we can share.”
She grinned. “Sharing sounds good.”
When the waitress left with their order, Moe lifted his bottle of Guinness. “To new friends and new experiences.”
“To both.” She tapped her bottle to his and took a long swallow.
A band warmed up in the far corner of the pub. Soon, a fiddle played a lively tune, and one of the band members sang a bawdy song of the love and loss of a red-haired Irish lass.
Moe couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face. “Fitting, wouldn’t you say?” He chuckled as the music died down.
The waitress arrived with a heaping plate of beer-batter fried fish and chips and a huge bowl filled with Shepherd’s pie.
Breely dug into the garlic mashed potatoes on top to find beef tips, carrots, leeks and peas soaked in a thick, rich gravy. When she bit into the first bite, she moaned as she chewed and swallowed.
The sexy sound made Moe’s groin tighten. Would she make similar noises during an orgasm? Eating food shouldn’t be turning him on.
After she’d swallowed her second bite, she moaned again. “Shepherd’s pie, where have you been all my life?”
Her orgasmic enjoyment threatened to kill Moe’s appetite for food. He focused on the fish and fries, avoiding looking at Breely as she moaned her way through half of her meal.
He breathed a sigh of relief when she set her fork aside and leaned back. “I can’t eat another bite.”
“You haven’t had a taste of this fish yet.” He cut a small chunk off and held out his fork.
She groaned as she leaned forward, took the morsel into her mouth and chewed slowly. “So good.”
This time when she leaned back in her chair, she took her beer with her and finished the last few swallows.
The waitress appeared. “Would you like another?”
“I have nowhere to put it.” Breely patted her flat belly in Moe’s black T-shirt, making him wish he was in that shirt with her hand patting him.
The band had taken a break making it possible to hold a conversation without shouting over the music.