Chapter 5
Along their way to the front porch, people said hi to Brady and threw comments at him, like “great show,” “good to see you on stage again,” “about time you were back,” and so on. Brady smiled at each person and batted back his own comments or raised his hand in acknowledgment.
Brady and Abby eased through the front entrance, and he guided her to the shadows at the far end of the porch. She caught his warm, masculine scent, and enjoyed being around a man a good deal taller than her for a change.
He released her elbow and his white teeth flashed in the dimness as he smiled down at her. “It’s good to see you, Abby. It’s been a long while.”
She laughed at that. “I just saw you yesterday.”
He gave her a sexy grin that turned her bones to wax. “Like I said, it’s been a long while.”
A diversion was what she needed to get herself oriented again, instead of feeling so off balance. Even a small diversion would be okay.
She reached up and plucked his hat off his head. “You need to cool off.”
His grin broadened and he shook his head, spraying a few tiny droplets on her.
“Ewww,” she said but laughed.
He rubbed his hand through his hair, and even in the shadows she could see it sticking up at odd angles. He was impossibly sexy—he probably looked like that when he got out of the shower. She swallowed. God, that gave her an image that she needed to put right back out of her mind.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were playing tonight?” She put her hands on her hips. “I would have been here at the start instead of halfway through.”
He shrugged. “I don’t usually tell people. I just perform every now and then, and whoever is here, is here.”
“You are a fantastic performer.” She didn’t want to sound like Carrie, so she reined in her enthusiasm a little. “I’m surprised you’re not under contract with some big label.”
“I like to sing and play guitar when I feel like it. I don’t want anyone to be in charge of my career or in control of it, and I don’t want to perform on command.” He peeked out from beneath the porch roof and looked up at the stars before turning to Abby again. “I love the land, I love my freedom, and I love being around my family and friends. If I was to make it big, which is a very big if, I would lose all that.”
He leaned his hip against the porch railing. “I wouldn’t be around genuine people, like you, Abby.” He offered her a gentle smile. “I wouldn’t like having to question anyone’s motives. When you’re in that kind of career, you have to question everything.”
He shook his head. “Not happening.” He appeared to relax, and he smiled again. “I have everything I need right here at home.”
Abby slowly nodded, considering his words. “I didn’t think about all of those things.”
“Most people don’t.” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “When I was young I thought how cool it would be to make it big and be a star in Nashville. I played in front of small crowds then bigger crowds, and I got a rush out of it.”
He looked over his shoulder and stared out into the darkness before moving his gaze back to her. “My daddy took me aside one day and we had a long talk. He said he’d support me with whatever direction I chose to go, but he wanted me to consider all my options. He brought up things I never thought about and it made me think and question what I really wanted.”
Brady shrugged. “I decided there were more important things in life than getting my star on a walk of fame or hearing my voice on the radio. Those kinds of things are just not important to me.”
“I get it now.” She smiled. “Like you said, there are more important things in life, depending on your personal feelings, goals, and dreams.”
Brady studied her. “It took me a long time to reach my goal of owning my own place and building my own ranch, something that’s still a work in progress. It all came with a lot of responsibility, but I wake up looking forward to each day and what I can accomplish next. I have a lot of fun with it, even though some things are a real pain in the ass.”
Abby grinned. “Like the neighbor’s cattle coming through your fence.”
He gave her an amused look . “Yeah, even with that.” He inclined his head toward the entrance. “I’m ready for that beer.”
“You might want this back.” She raised his hat. “Your hair is sticking up like a porcupine’s quills.”
He took it from her with a grin. “Can’t have that.”
Brady snugged his hat on his head then touched Abby’s elbow as he escorted her into Mickey’s, to the bar where he waited for her to climb onto a stool. He tried not to be obvious as he looked at her long legs and her rounded bottom. He took the stool beside hers. He leaned in, drawing in her scent of orange blossoms.
She fascinated him and more. He wanted to touch her, starting with her lips. He’d brush his mouth over hers and work his way along the curve of her neck and down to the hollow of her throat, and on to?—
“Are you okay?” Abby’s voice caused him to snap to attention and he met her gaze. She looked curious, then amusement twitched the corner of her mouth.
Ah, hell, she could probably read him like a book and knew the direction his thoughts had taken him, and she found that funny. Nothing like a good dose of humor to end the line of thinking he’d been on.
“He wants to know what you want.” She nodded toward the bar, and he saw Mickey looking just as amused.
He winked. “What’ll it be, Brady?”
Brady cleared his throat. “Give me a stout, Mickey.”
“One draft and one stout coming your direction.” Mickey nodded and turned away.
“I take it he’s the owner?” She tipped her head to the side. “Unless it’s a huge coincidence he has the same name as the bar.”
“He’s owned the bar for a good twenty years.” Brady kept his voice raised so she could hear him over conversation and music coming from the jukebox. “I was still a kid back then.”
“They make terrific cheeseburgers, serve good beer, and have great music.” Abby settled her forearms on the bar and her braid slid over her shoulder. “What more can you ask for?”
“Fishing.” Brady fixed a serious expression on his face. “You can always ask for more fishing.”
Abby grinned. “I love fishing.”
“And you’re competitive about it,” he said.
Mickey arrived with their drinks then moved on to the couple next to them.
She took a long swallow of her beer and placed it on the bar top. She eyed Brady. “How’d you guess that?”
“You strike me as competitive.” He shrugged. “I bet you had the most and the biggest fish on your stringers than your fishing buddy. When you beat him, he even called you Gingersnap just to get a rise out of you.”
Brady swore he saw her hackles rise that moment as she studied him. He was beginning to wonder if he’d pushed too hard.
Then she visibly relaxed. “You talked with Elmer.”
He grinned. “Went over there this morning and he offered lemonade. We talked and I saw a few pictures he had around. You were a cute kid.”
Abby grinned and shook her head. “I should have known he’d end up talking about me and Jeff. Maybe I shouldn’t use him as a referral.”
“Nah.” Brady picked up his beer. “He’s a great reference, if you don’t mind him telling tales about you.”
“I guess it can’t hurt.” She looked like her mind had traveled someplace else. She seemed to shake herself and she smiled. “I have a lot of good memories of times I spent with Jeff and Elmer. He’d take us fishing all the time. It’s been far too long since I’ve held a fishing rod.”
“Why don’t you come fishing with me on Saturday?” Brady found himself hoping she’d say yes in the worst—make that the best—way. “I’m taking my sisters and there’s always room for one more. I have more fishing rods than I can use and plenty of other tackle.”
Abby looked both surprised and pleased that he’d asked. “Would your sisters mind?”
“The girls will be thrilled to have another female to gang up on me.” He laughed then pretended to frown. “On second thought…”
“Joining you and your sisters certainly holds appeal.” She leaned closer. “On one condition.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “And that would be?”
“Don’t call me Gingersnap.”
“Gingersnaps are my favorite cookie,” he said, “Especially homemade.” At her expression of complete doubt, he added, “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” She narrowed her eyes, but he could tell she was working hard to not smile.
Brady held out his hand. “Deal.”
Abby took it and he felt the most peculiar sensation travel from their connected hands straight to his gut, something akin to a livewire.
She looked startled, as if she’d had the same reaction. “Uh…” She appeared to have to gather herself as much as he’d had to himself. “Deal.”
He picked up his beer glass and took a healthy swallow, buying himself time to regain his equilibrium. He’d never experienced anything like the sensation that had shot through him.
Attracted to her, yes, fascinated, even more so—but this went beyond. It was like suddenly knowing the woman in front of him was his soul mate, the one person he didn’t know he’d been looking for.
Damn, she was beautiful. He loved the shine of copper in her hair, and he’d like to count every freckle on the bridge of her nose and along her collarbones. Did she have freckles other places not seen by sunlight?
He lowered his glass and worked to make sure his feelings weren’t in his expression. “I can pick you up on our way to Lake Pleasant.”
“I can meet you at your ranch.” She sounded eager to do that rather than have him pick her up. Probably to have some semblance of control over the day. “What kind of fish is in that lake?”
“About a dozen different species.” He slid his fingers through the condensation on his glass. “Three different kinds of bass, along with catfish, tilapia, and a few others.”
“I like bass and tilapia.” She twisted her hips on her stool. “I’d have to say my favorite of those is bass.”
“We’ll have a cookout when we get back from the lake.” He found himself excited for Saturday. “I’ve got an idea.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What sort of idea?”
“Arizona Game and Fish’s bag limit for large and smallmouth bass is six.” He brought his glass to his mouth. “Out of my six, I’ll have the biggest bass.”
Abby waved that away. “Don’t even try to beat me. You’ll lose.”
Brady swallowed the bitter, toasty stout then lowered his glass. “Let’s make a wager.”
“What kind of wager?” She tilted her head appraising him. “Pick one that you won’t mind having to do when you lose.”
He grinned. “Cocky, much?”
She shrugged. “I’m just that good.” It was clear from her expression that she loved talking smack.
“Loser washes all the dishes we dirty up during the cookout.” His lips twitched. “Every single dish.”
“It’s a bet.” She raised her beer. “Here’s to fishing.”
He clinked his glass against hers. “Here’s to beautiful redheads no longer called Gingersnap.”
Red crept up her neck to her face and she appeared flustered. She covered it up by taking a drink.
“You’ll need to get a license to fish in Arizona,” he said. “You can go online to purchase it.”
She smiled. “I’ll take care of it.”
He knocked back the rest of his beer and set his empty glass on the bar top. “Since we’re going fishing Saturday, why don’t you come out to the ranch during the day tomorrow instead of us going to dinner, and we’ll discuss what options you have for fencing?”
“Sure.” She finished her drink, too, and thumped it on the bar. “I’ll bring out my samples and we can go over them. What’s a good time?”
“I need to get feed in the morning. The feed store was out of wet COB when Caesar went into town, but they expected more in today.” The ranch couldn’t go without the corn, oats, and barley with molasses recipe, as much as his horses loved the stuff. “I have some other chores after lunch. I’d say late afternoon would be good if you’re free.”
“Perfect.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out some cash.
He put his hand over hers, and again the unsettling sensual sensations swept through him. “Your money’s no good here. I’m paying.”
She looked at him with amusement. “They took my money earlier for dinner.”
He shrugged. “House rules have changed since then.” He let his fingers slide away from hers, wishing he could prolong the contact but knowing he shouldn’t push it. “My treat.”
“Thank you.” She leaned back and stretched out her long leg as she stuffed the cash back into her front pocket before straightening on her stool. “I’d better be getting back to the B and B. The owner is a sweet lady, but she isn’t crazy about late returns.”
He rolled his shoulders. “It was a long, busy day today, but it got a whole lot better once I saw you.”
She gave him a teasing look. “You say that to all your fangirls.”
He chuckled. “Now you’re a fangirl?”
She grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen that lay near a closed receipt folder. She turned back to him and batted her long, copper eyelashes. “Can I have your autograph, Mr. McLeod? Please?”
“You can have anything you want.” He took the napkin and pen from her and scribbled something down. He folded the napkin and tucked it in the pocket of her western shirt. His fingers brushed the top of her breast and he went still.
Her eyes widened and she caught her lower lip with her teeth, clearly holding something in.
He cleared his throat and moved his hands away. Should he apologize? Maybe it would be better to pretend it hadn’t happened.
She brought her fingers up to her pocket. “Thanks for the autograph.”
“It won’t bring you much on eBay,” he said. “Maybe a buck or two.”
She smiled. “I shall treasure it and keep it in my collection of signed cocktail napkins from famous performers.”
“A collection, huh?”
“A collection of one.” She climbed off her seat. “It’s been a long day and I’m ready for bed.”
Just the thought of bed and Abby in it made his belly burn.
Brady slid off his stool and they headed out the front door together. He had the strong desire to slide his arm around her waist and draw her close to his side.
It had been a year since Elena dumped him and ran off with another man. Was a year enough? Had his heart fully healed? His gut told him yes. What did his heart say?
That was a stupid question. His heart had notoriously bad judgment.
They walked away from the bar, side by side, leaving behind the noise and buzz of activity. It was cooler outside than in, the desert losing the heat of the day. In the Phoenix area there was too much glass, asphalt, and concrete to cool down much. King Creek was far enough away that the heat faded to a comfortable temperature at night.
They reached her red Escape, and he opened the door for her after she unlocked it with the fob. She climbed inside and buzzed down the window before shutting the door.
For a moment they looked at each other, then she smiled. It was a soft, sexy smile, even if she didn’t mean it that way. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, Brady.” She sounded a little breathless. “Thanks for the beer.”
“You’re welcome.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Night, Abby.”
“Good night.” She put her vehicle into reverse and backed up. In the glow from her dashboard lights, he saw her wave before she took off.
He watched until her taillights vanished, then strode back to the bar to retrieve his guitar.