A trio of damp dark heads appeared in the kitchen, and she inched cautiously forward. Jared spied her right away and held his hand out, his smile and his eyes lighting something up inside her. As if pulled by a magnet, she moved to his side, feeling his light touch at the small of her back. “Dad, Jackson, this is Starla.”
“An angel of mercy,” the older man said with a grin identical to his son’s. He had made a beeline to the coffeemaker. His eyes weren’t the piercing blue of Jared’s and his dark hair was shot through with gray, but she could definitely see where these two—she assumed Jackson was Jared’s brother—got their good looks from.
“Oh,” she stammered with a small laugh—fuck, could she be any further from that description? “Nah, just the maker of coffee.”
“Same difference, m’dear.” He pulled several mugs down from the overhead cabinet, seeming to know exactly where everything was.
“Nice to meet you,” Jackson said cordially, but then he retreated to the counter opposite them and fell silent. Maybe her imagination was running wild with this awkward encounter, but she didn’t get the feeling the guy thought meeting her was as nice as he said. Hell. She shouldn’t be here. She and Jared had been broadcasting wrong impressions all night.
Beside her, he scrubbed his face and head with one of the towels she’d left, which had been hanging around his neck. “Thanks so much for doing this,” he said to her.
“No problem. Did you find them all?”
“Yeah. Even patched the fence up. It should hold until I can work on it more tomorrow.”
“Crazy out there,” Mr. Stanton remarked, leaning over to watch the show of lightning still going on outside. “If they get out again, boy, you’re on your own.” His tone said he was joking, but she still couldn’t imagine being out there in that storm.
“I guess I’ll have to manage,” Jared said with a laugh.
The four of them gathered around the kitchen island and sipped from steaming mugs, small talk ensuing. She’d never been good at that. Fast talking, shit talking, dirty talking, sure, but not small talking. It was torture to smile and engage and act civil. And it occurred to her that she would probably find herself in this situation if she ever left her job and found a new one. She was comfortable where she was, everyone knew her and knew not to take her shit too seriously most of the time. She was used to that. What if she found herself settling for some quiet office with a bunch of stuck-up bitches? Jesus, she hated stuck-up bitches.
Not that Jared’s family seemed to be that. His dad was definitely a character, and even Jackson warmed up a bit—maybe the coffee had replenished his good humor. They asked about her life and seemed to listen to her answers. They didn’t make any nudge-nudge-wink-wink insinuations as to why she was here. She couldn’t ask for more than that, right? And as soon as the coffeepot was empty and the storm seemed to lull a bit, they said their good-byes and were gone.
“Damn,” Jared said after closing the door on their departure and wandering back into the kitchen where she stood. “What a night.”
“Insane,” she agreed, then drained her cup and carried it to the sink to rinse it out.
“If you don’t mind,” he said into the ensuing silence, “I’m going to take a quick shower. It was muddy out there.”
“Oh, sure.” She wanted nothing more than to help him wash off some of that mud. Unfortunately, time and caffeine had cleared most of the tequila-induced fog from her head, and she couldn’t push the words out. Then again…if she had a clear head, then maybe the night held promise once again. Shivers skittered through her belly at the thought. “Be right back,” Jared said, and she turned to watch him retreat down the hall. The rear view was just as yummy as the front, all broad shoulders and narrow hips and grab-worthy ass.
All four mugs washed and dried and replaced, Starla sighed and looked around for something else to kill time yet again. She played on her phone, she watched TV…and finally thought, Fuck it, I give up. She flopped back on the couch and gave in to her full-blown fantasies of Jared naked in his shower, the water streaming down that powerful body, his hands moving over it as he washed. Wet and soapy slick. Strong fingers wrapping around a thick cock, giving it a long, slow stroke as he thought about sinking into her. Her own body clenched in response; her own fingers ached to creep down into her jeans. If he found her masturbating on his couch, though, how would he react? Hot as it sounded, she couldn’t imagine. It certainly might move things along.
She smirked at the thought, but somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard the weatherman breaking in on the TV to warn of another approaching storm. Wonderful. At least maybe Jared could ride this one out with her, snuggled on the couch as she’d suggested earlier. Being wrapped in the warmth of his arms sounded much more preferable to chewing her nails worried about his safety out there.
When he came out five minutes later, she nearly choked on pure air. Wearing a light heather-gray T-shirt that kissed his muscles in all the right places and worn, soft-looking jeans, he was pure heaven to behold. And he didn’t even realize what he was doing to her, because as soon as he spied her on his couch, he said, entirely too conversationally: “Hey, I’m a dumbass. I didn’t even think. If you want to change, I’m sure I can dig something up. You’re probably freezing.”
“I’m actually pretty dry now.” Everywhere but between my legs. “It’s okay.”
“Sorry. I suck as a host.”
You can totally suck— “No, you’re awesome.” For the first time, she noticed the dark blue blanket slung across one of his forearms. Awesome, indeed. One corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy grin.
“If you’re still up for a Twilight Zone marathon, I am too.”
She was up for so, so much more, and hopefully he was as well. “Do you have popcorn?”
Indeed he did, explaining it was the girls’ favorite snack. Outside, the rain still fell and the thunder still rumbled, but the two of them moved easily around Jared’s kitchen, fixing drinks and food. She had the unwelcome thought that she was getting far, far too comfortable here, but it felt so nice when she scarcely felt comfortable in her own home.
“Which one should we watch?” he asked as they settled with their couch picnic. He handed Starla the remote, and she navigated to the episode list on Netflix.
“Let’s see… There’s ‘A Stop at Willoughby,’ that’s a good one.”
“Ooh, ‘The Purple Testament.’ Isn’t that the one where the soldier sees a glow on the faces of other soldiers who are about to die?”
“That’s a good one too.” She selected it and hit Play, pleased that he knew his Twilight Zone episodes as the unmistakable theme music filled the room. Jared pulled the blanket over the both of them, and she snuggled into his chest as if she belonged there, feeling his heart thump slow and steady, loving the weight of his arm around her. His hand settled in the curve of her waist, just where the hem of her shirt touched her jeans, just where she could imagine his fingers slipping between the articles of clothing to find bare skin. But his fingers stayed where they were, on top of her clothes, maddening her.
But it was also nice. How often had she found herself around a guy whose primary objective wasn’t to get into her pants? Except for her male friends, probably never. When she started something with a man, she knew where it was headed. Every single time. To bed. Maybe once, maybe a few times, but if it advanced more than that, a catastrophic breakup was sure to follow. Or stalking, if the last few weeks were any indication. With Jared, she had no such expectations. A million possibilities waited to be explored. It excited her and terrified her at the same time. As he’d asked her the night he’d returned her purse: Could she handle it? Could she fit into his life?
Fuck it. She didn’t even care. She only knew that here, right under his jaw, a mere inch from her nose, he smelled like heaven, and if she didn’t kiss him again soon, she was going to die.
Her blood thickened in her veins as she shifted closer, inhaling him before trailing her lips along the bearded line of his jaw. Jared released a shuddering breath, his fingers tightening on her waist. Her biggest fear was that he’d push her away, but he didn’t. Tilting his chin upward, he gave her easier access, and she took it. Every muscle in his powerful body tensed as her lips left teasing kisses up to his ear, his damp hair tickling her nose with scent and sensation.
Chapter Thirteen
She felt so good, and Jesus, it had been so long. When his marriage had crumbled, yeah, he’d sworn off. He’d told himself the last thing he needed was another woman to hurt, to disappoint, to damage. He and his ex-wife had been hot together at first, but soon enough he’d realized it for what it was: the novelty of someone new. Starla had guessed right; Macy was his one and only for so many years that when Shelly had come along, it was as if she breathed new life into him. But eventually it wore off. It left him cold.
The woman in his arms now, though… He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to her. Starla’s lips were so soft. There was something tentative and vulnerable about her now, and he hadn’t expected that. He’d reclined on the couch, taking her with him so that she lay atop him, their legs in a tangle and their mouths taking turns exploring each other…bare throats, sensitive earlobes. On the TV, the show played on. Outside¸ thunder rumbled and rain pelted the metal roof of his porch. Even while he’d been out there battling the storm to get his animals to safety, he’d been thinking of her. While she’d been standing in the kitchen with his dad and Jack, looking flustered and damn near bashful, he’d wanted her so bad he could hardly concentrate on anything but the way her lips touched her coffee mug.