Bucking the Rules(18)
He stared for a moment. “Why the hell not? You married or something?”
She snorted. “No. Not at all. But just because two people are single doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. There are other factors.”
“What other factors?”
Jo just shook her head again, maddeningly. “Thanks for thinking of me though, cowboy.” She said it lightly, almost mockingly, and it stung.
As she walked away, he wanted to just shrug. He’d been turned down before. But never when he’d felt so strongly about the woman. New territory for him, and he didn’t care for it.
Not because of the rejection itself, but because it meant he didn’t get Jo.
Not tonight, anyway.
Jo’s night off, and she was closing up shop. Figured.
Her manager had pleaded an early night because of a migraine, and she’d relented. Though she was pretty sure “migraine” was code for “wanna have sweaty sex with my boyfriend,” she couldn’t really argue. If she had a man in her bed, she’d want to be having hot, sweaty sex, too.
No, no, no. No thinking about sex. Or sweaty sex. Or Trace Muldoon … damn it! Did it again. Now her mind was mentally stripping him, one article of clothing at a time.
She’d have to start with the shirt. Snaps were so much easier than buttons. How convenient that cowboy fashion lent itself to the sweaty sex. The man had to be ripped, working with large animals all day. Plus, the loose shirts couldn’t hide everything. Maybe he had a hint of a farmer’s tan. Now that she could get into. She’d dealt too long with Big City assholes who thought dual manicures was a good way to spend quality time on a Saturday. Something about the thought of a man with a tan from working outside all day, using his hands, getting dirty, really dirty …
Glancing down, she laughed at herself. Instead of gripping the soft cotton of Trace’s shirt to rip it off, she’d been squeezing the life out of a bar rag. Not quite the same. Definitely less satisfying results.
“I’m heading out!” Amanda breezed by and set her apron on the counter with the others to be laundered in the morning.
“You’re in a cheerful mood,” Jo commented, tossing the mangled bar rag in with the aprons.
“Got myself a hot date.” She grinned and checked her watch. “Not that there’s much of the night left for dating. I’m just looking forward to the part where we tear each other’s—”
“Point taken!” Jo smiled and covered her ears with her hands. “Shoo. Go, have fun, be safe.”
“Yes, Mommy.” Amanda blew her a kiss and sailed out the front door. Jo watched as she took three steps, then sprinted to the parking lot and jumped into the arms of a man waiting by a pickup truck.
She walked to the front door and watched as the man spun her in a quick circle while Amanda wrapped her legs around him like a tree monkey. From a distance, it was difficult to pick up any details on the man. His hat shaded his face in the darkness, though she could imagine he was smiling. With a cutie like Amanda in his arms, most men would be.
But the jeans and boots, she recognized.
Jo scolded herself as she caught a sigh forming. Another nonstarter, as far as she was concerned. She’d known from the beginning that Trace Muldoon was off limits, and she’d behaved accordingly. Now it was official, and she just needed to get the hell over it. She barely even knew the guy. It wasn’t as if she’d lost her great love or anything.
Maybe the loneliness was seeping in deeper than she imagined. Time to get a man. Or a pet … pets were easier.
Too bad she hated most animals. The only thing she could tolerate were fish. And that wasn’t really the way to handle loneliness. Five days after buying her companion, she’d have to flush him.
She finished quickly and closed up shop, locking the door behind her. The stairs to her apartment were around the corner of the building, slightly hidden from the street. She liked the privacy, even though most would have thought she didn’t have any. The separate entrance was enough for her though, and she started to head in that direction, glad once again she had made installing outside lighting along the path to her stairs a main priority when she’d first bought the place.
“Hey.”
She yelped and covered her mouth with her hand. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Turning, she saw Mr. Jeans and Boots himself leaning against a truck parked along the street. At first glance, it looked like the same truck from the parking lot, but in the dark she couldn’t tell dark blue from black or another deep color.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I wasn’t scared,” she lied.
The twitch of his lips said he wasn’t buying the BS, but he let it slide. “Good. I didn’t know what time you would close up, since you don’t close the same time every night.”