Bucking the Rules(57)
He raised his hands, as if not sure what to do with them, then stuck them in the pockets of his jeans. One sneaker kicked at the dirt, and the entire performance reminded her of a sullen little boy. “I misunderstood the situation.”
Misunderstood, her ass. Maybe he’d misunderstood if she was interested, at first, but there was no mistake after she’d started pushing him.
When she didn’t reply, he went on. “I got lonely and freaked out about school and I just sort of lost my head a little. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
It wasn’t an excuse, but she understood. A young kid made mistakes. She’d made more than a few, and was lucky enough none of them had been permanent. She made a split-second decision—some of her best decisions were in the heat of the moment, after all—and ran with it. “Just remember that for the next time. Otherwise, you might get your ass handed to you.”
He grinned, quick as lightning. “You woulda laid me out, wouldn’t you?”
She shrugged, then smiled a little. “If I felt it necessary.”
He stepped forward, then back again, hands still in his pockets. “Can I still come by before I head out?” When she watched him, he clarified, “The bar, I mean. Like for lunch.”
“Sure. I know you’re good for the tab.” The joke made him smile again, and she waved and walked off to the grocery store, feeling a little lighter.
He wasn’t a bad kid. Just a moment of stupidity. Hell, they all had them. Like her, the night before.
What had honestly possessed her to think a relationship with anyone—least of all someone rooted in this community—was a good idea? She was a business owner in a tenuous position. The outsider still trying to prove herself. A woman in a man’s business, trying not to get kicked in the teeth with ass-backward cowboys. And she had to go and add feelings to the mix.
Brilliant. How the hell had Trace talked her into that?
Her body tightened at the reminder of exactly how he’d primed her for that one. In a parking lot, no less, like a couple of teenagers. Christ.
She paused and made a big show of window shopping in the closest store. Somehow, she didn’t think anyone would believe she was deeply considering buying a muumuu in size triple XL with puppies frolicking on the front. But she needed a minute to calm the flush or she’d really embarrass herself.
Nothing like the word muumuu to stifle a sexual heat wave.
As she reached the grocery store, she grabbed a basket, then debated and put it back in favor of a cart. She needed to stock up. If she was going to have Trace over more often, she’d have to feed him meals. A man like him ate, and ate well. She smiled at that, and considered the various ways of serving meat and potatoes without being tedious.
“Jo.”
She turned at that, recognizing Bea’s voice. “Hey. What’s up?”
Bea practically sprinted at her and hooked one arm around Jo’s elbow. “You’re just the person I needed. I’m looking at this pitiful selection of dog toys they carry and I’m not sure which one to choose.”
“Shouldn’t you go to the feed store for that?” Jo looked back toward the produce she was being dragged away from. “I need food, Bea.”
“You’re in a grocery store. You’ll get it. But this is important. Look.” She halted at an end cap and held up two toys. “The blue one? Or the pink one?”
“He’s a boy, right?” When Bea raised a brow, Jo shrugged. “Just checking. The blue.”
“But this is the twenty-first century. Why can’t men have pink?”
“The pink, then.” A headache loomed like a black cloud over a picnic. “I need to go get something other than instant soup for my kitchen.”
“Oh, great. I love veggies.” Bea swung her arm around Jo’s shoulders and tossed the pink toy in Jo’s cart. “Let’s talk cucumber.”
“Do we have to?” Jo eyed her warily. “What’s going on with you?”
“Me?” Bea’s eyes widened. “Why?”
Jo picked up a head of lettuce and ignored Bea’s feigned innocence.
“Not that one.” Bea handed her another head and grabbed the first to put back.
Jo rolled her eyes and stuck the bundle of leaves in her cart, moving on to the tomatoes. When she picked up a four-pack of prepackaged ones, Bea moaned quietly.
“Oh, my God. What is wrong with you?”
“Those are so bad for you. The prepackaged ones are always hot house tomatoes, which are tasteless and devoid of any real nutrients.”
“Not what I meant,” Jo muttered, but put down the plastic with caution and picked out a few from the bin individually.