A banner hanging from the front of her table read LUSCIOUS LEANNA’S SWEET TREATS in red letters on a white background. She was talking with a young guy in the next booth as Kurt approached. Pepper began barking and running toward him, but he was tethered to the table by a long white rope. The jars on the table collided.
Leanna flipped her hair over her shoulder with one sharp turn of her head. “Peppe—” Her eyes widened. “Kurt.”
Pepper clawed at his legs. Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. “Sit.”
Pepper sat on his butt, wagging his tail.
“What are you doing here?” Leanna asked. She glanced back at the young guy in the tank top she’d been talking with.
Kurt sized him up as he loaded crates full of records into his old orange van. Handsome. Well built. Looking at Leanna like she’s the main course. He nodded in greeting to the guy, then handed Leanna her clothes.
“You left these at my place, so I thought I’d bring them over.” Now he had the guy in the next booth’s full attention.
“I did? Oh gosh. I’m sorry.” She put the clothes in her van and began packing the jars into insulated coolers.
“I’m not.” Kurt felt the guy’s eyes on him.
She stopped packing and met his gaze. “But you brought them all the way here and you could be writing.”
“You look familiar. Are you that thriller writer?” the guy from the other booth asked.
“Oh gosh. Carey, this is Kurt. Kurt, Carey.” Leanna continued packing the jars as she spoke.
Kurt held out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
The guy’s eyes lit up. “Cool. I read all your books.”
“Great. Hope you enjoy them.” And keep your eyes off of Leanna.
“Yeah, they’re really good.” His eyes darted between Leanna and Kurt.
Pepper began whining and pulling against the rope again. Kurt caught two jars as they fell from the table.
“Sit,” he said to Pepper.
Pepper obeyed with another whimper.
“Good catch.” Leanna came around the table and reached for the jars.
Kurt trapped her finger beneath his, and when she looked up at him, his pulse sped up. She was breathing hard, and he could see the strap of her dark bikini beneath her tank top, and the image of her in the itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny bikini sent heat right through him.
“So, Leanna, are we still on for the beach?” Carey asked.
She looked at Kurt and trapped her lower lip between her teeth.
On for the beach? Come on, you’re dating this guy? He glanced at Carey’s beaten-up old van parked behind Leanna’s van. I’m a complete idiot. He released Leanna’s fingers.
“Um.” She looked up at Kurt again with an oh-no look in her eyes.
“Hey, don’t let me interrupt. I just wanted to bring you your clothes.” He nodded at Carey, then forced a smile for Leanna. “I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah. I guess,” she said.
He turned to walk away, feeling like a complete jackass. Of course a woman like her would go out with a young, free-spirited guy with similar interests. What was he thinking? What would a woman like Luscious Leanna see in a man who spent hours behind a keyboard, found the ocean sticky, and rarely left the house? Pepper barked and barked. He whimpered and whined, and Kurt kept walking.
There he was getting excited just thinking about taking her to a stupid drive-in movie when he should have been writing. He shook his head. What the devil was wrong with him?
He tried to block out Pepper’s incessant barking. A loud crash—glass shattering against pavement—broke through his thoughts. He turned as Pepper arrived beside him, barking, clawing at his legs. With his eyes, he followed the trail of rope hanging from Pepper’s collar to Leanna, standing among several broken bottles of jam, her legs splattered with red goo.
Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Walk away. Just get in the car and leave. Carey had staked claim to Leanna, and she obviously was interested in him. Kurt should climb into his car, drive away from there, and go write. Wasting time was not on his agenda. He had no business walking to the men’s room and filling his hands with wet paper towels. He shouldn’t have made a beeline for her, or gotten down on one knee to wipe off the jam from her lean, sexy legs. She wasn’t his to take care of, and Carey was right there beside her. But Carey was busy taking down his own booth, and other than handing Leanna a towel, he was doing nothing to help her—and that pissed off Kurt. He didn’t deserve Leanna. What type of man didn’t help a woman in a situation like this? Kurt wasn’t working on what he should or shouldn’t do. He was driven by something stronger—something he hadn’t ever felt before—the desire to be someplace other than in front of his beloved keyboard. He wanted to be right there, helping Leanna.