Here Comes Trouble Page 9

  “So…?” she urged.

  He snapped back to the moment and nestled her more fully in his arms. “So, I guess…we’ve established age isn’t an issue. And that I’m not a serial killer or a crude biker. You’re not dancing ballet at the Met or hosting snooty cocktail parties in the Hamptons. You don’t take shit from cheating jackasses. And neither of us should probably ever own a kitten. Any other obstacles?”

  She laughed. “To?”

  “Me finishing what I started before your neighbor interrupted?”

  “Other than wondering why in the hell you’d still want to? No, absolutely not.”

  “Human is good, Kirby. I’m not interested in plastic perfection, or any attempt at pretending to be it, much less achieving it.”

  “Well, there’s a huge relief.” She grinned and he really did love what it did to her eyes. That was going to take a long time to get old.

  “What else?” he asked when he sensed there was something she wasn’t saying. When she didn’t immediately respond, he knew he was right. “Come on, no point in holding back now.”

  “Right,” she said dryly. “However good or bad that is.” She lifted her hand from his shoulder before he could say it. “Human is good, I know. But there are limits. I was just thinking that one of the deals I made with myself when I came here was that I was going to make it on my own first before contemplating whether or not I wanted to get into another long-term relationship. It seemed like the healthy thing to do. But in the meantime, I wasn’t planning on being a monk, either.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, I have been a monk, but only because time and opportunity for the no-strings, weekend flings I’d imagined myself having weren’t exactly presenting themselves.”

  She truly had no idea just how charming and adorable her complete and utter candor really was to him. “And now?”

  “Well, now it seems like, possibly, maybe, that little problem might resolve itself. For which I’m very happy, by the way. Because you…well, come on. I couldn’t have dreamed you. Only…you know, now I’m worrying that it might turn out to be a little harder for me to reconcile myself with that after-the-fling part than I thought it would.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you about that part. I’m not sure what I’m going to do about it, either. You see, I didn’t even have a game plan in place to start with. Short-or long-term. So you’re one up on me once again. But I do see one potential problem with your plan.”

  “Which is?”

  He brushed her hair from her face and tipped her chin up. “Am I only allowed to stay for the weekend?”

  Her pupils punched wide with desire, and her color rose again to those pretty porcelain features of hers. He wanted to see what other parts of her body he could make blush.

  “I—I don’t know. I mean, no. You can stay as long as you want. I just meant, you’re…temporary. That’s all. This…whatever we do, can only be temporary.”

  He crowded her back against the wall by the kitchen cupboards. “We have no idea what this is, or could be. We haven’t even started yet.”

  If it was possible, her pupils expanded further, until they almost swallowed those soft gray irises whole. He felt her fingers flex on his shoulders and saw her throat work.

  “Are you opposed to starting something that has no definite path?” he asked. “Or an end date already all planned out?”

  “No.”

  He cocked his head, surprised by the swift certainty of her response.

  “Commitment issues?” he asked. “Understandable, after all, given everything.”

  “No. Just the continued desire to be more self-aware, make better choices for myself. And I don’t know if I’m there yet.”

  “Fair enough. But how will you know when you are, if you don’t try?”

  “True, I suppose. You?” she countered.

  “Commitment issues, no. I’m very loyal to those who matter to me.”

  “And are there many? Who matter, I mean?”

  “I don’t know that it’s a long list, but there are some very definite names on it. Yes. You?”

  “No issues with loyalty. Although what and whom I choose to be loyal to…that has changed.”

  That intrigued him, too. He wanted to know the rest of her story. He wanted to know what led a woman, he was guessing in her late thirties, to launch an enterprise in a small mountain town she had no prior connection to, far away from her original home, all by herself. One that would require a huge personal commitment, given she would literally live and breathe her work. And seemed content with that choice. And it wasn’t just about location, or wanting to run a place her way. Or even starting over after a devastating breakup. There was more to it; he felt it clear down to his bones. And he was suddenly dying to know the rest.

  One thing he did know was that Kirby Farrell did not lack the commitment gene. Her inn was testament to that. He was more curious to know who would make the loyalty cut in her life these days. And what it would take to get that close to her.

  “Understandable, also,” he said, “though I think we all make those adjustments as life progresses, for a variety of reasons.”

  “Is that what happened with you? These choices you need to make, the things you need to ponder…commitments changing?”

  “As it happens, yes.”

  “And figuring it out meant a cross-country trek?”

  “The journey was part of it. It wasn’t just a flight. Well, it might have started out as one, but it became part of the process.”

  “So, is this just another layover, or a turnaround point?”

  “I wanted it to be the latter. Felt it, when I stopped.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know. More to figure out, I guess. What about you? Is this a beginning point, or an end point?”

  “This. You mean the inn? An end point. At least that was the plan. We’ll see how that pans out. It’s funny, I guess…I came across country, too. But I knew where I was heading. And why.”

  “I thought I knew. Why I was leaving, anyway, if not exactly where I was heading,” he said. “Now I’m wondering if I’ve just been fleeing…or maybe hiding, the whole time.”

  She looked curious, but, to her credit and his relief, she didn’t push. There was time, yet. Or would be, if it was still important to either of them. Later.

  After.

  The silence expanded, but it wasn’t an uneasy one.

  “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “That this might have been easier without all the talking first.”

  She smiled a little, but there was a hint of disappointment in it. “Men hate foreplay.”

  “Some men, maybe. Not me. But that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean it was tedious.”

  “Then what?”

  “Personal. Makes it more personal.”

  “Exactly what I was getting at. Maybe we both wanted something more nameless/faceless.”

  “I don’t know what I wanted. I didn’t even know I was going to want at all.”

  She smiled briefly. “You mean you haven’t left a string of broken hearts across the country?”

  He shook his head. “Haven’t disturbed—or severed—a single body part, I swear.”

  “What about back in Vegas? Is there someone there who is waiting to hear about your commitment decisions?”

  “If you mean a wife or significant other, no. It’s not about that.” He watched her face. “Would it matter if it did?

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  “I was raised to play well with others and share my toys, but some things aren’t meant to be shared. I didn’t like it when it happened to me and I sure as hell wouldn’t be a part of doing that to someone else.”

  “So, then I suppose I don’t have to worry that someone other than Clemson is going to come banging on your door, asking nosy questions?”

  “Oh, there might be all kinds of nosy questions.” She watched him this time. “If t
hat’s a problem, I understand.”

  “I’m not the one who lives here, who’ll keep on living here. It doesn’t bother you?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “It’s not the kind of thing I would let bother me, no. I’m a grown woman and can do what I want with my private life. If they have issues with my business or how I run it, that’s one thing, but about me personally?” Again, she lifted a shoulder.

  His smile widened a little. He noticed she’d said “would let bother,” indicating she hadn’t actually had any experience with small towns and even smaller minds. “How much do you know about small towns?”

  “Enough,” she said. “Ski resort towns are very small towns.”

  “Although a bit more cosmopolitan than, say, a small town in Iowa, given the international tourist aspect, don’t you think?”

  “Possibly, but the resort itself is like a village within a small town, and there are no secrets, and gossip is second only to the skiing and golfing as a favorite form of entertainment. I lived under an enormous amount of scrutiny when I was working for Patrick. I was twelve years his junior, and despite being more than qualified for the job, both by my upbringing and by my college education, absolutely everyone naturally assumed I’d slept my way into the job as resort manager at such a young age. The irony was that Patrick was considered quite the prodigy himself for being an internationally renowned resort owner at such a young age…but no one thought he’d gotten there by anything other than hard work.”

  “Or the hard work of others, from the sound of it.”

  She shrugged off the intended compliment. “Bottom line is, if you’re asking if I’d be bothered by what the locals here might think of how I conduct my personal life, then the answer is no. Both because it truly isn’t their business and therefore their opinion is none of my concern, but also because I don’t plan on conducting myself in any manner that could be considered questionable, no matter how conservative and small the mind. I’m a grown, single woman and can see or sleep with whomever I wish. It’s not like I plan to jump your bones in the middle of the town square.”

  “Does Pennydash have a town square?”

  “Are we in New England?” she teased. “Yes, it does. Actually, it’s quite charming and one of the draws for both the resort planners and me. It had fallen on some pretty hard times since the town’s inception a hundred years ago, but the resort is bringing a rejuvenation to the shops and empty properties. A few good winters and I think it will turn into something as special as the western resort towns, but with its own distinct East Coast feel. Which I think it is a good thing, despite my western background.”

  “Actually, I think it sounds pretty nice. I have a thing for town square architecture and development.”

  She looked surprised. “You do?”

  “It’s partly why I turned up the drive to your place. I liked the look of the old structure. We don’t have this kind of architecture out west and I thought it was both charming and interesting.”

  “Hunh.”

  He chuckled. “Still an enigma?”

  “More all the time, it seems.”

  He smiled, but didn’t ask if that was a good or a bad thing.

  “What about you? You sounded like you had small town experience. Did you live somewhere else before Vegas?”

  His laugh was dry, short. “Oh, don’t be fooled. Vegas is the smallest of small towns. Especially if you’ve lived there your whole life.”

  “Have you?”

  “Until recently, yes.”

  “Oh. I thought you were still a resident. Where did you move away to?”

  He nodded in the general direction of the front of the house. “That bike in your driveway.”

  “Ah,” she said again. “The running away that became a journey.”

  Her hands were still on his bare shoulders, and his body was painfully aware of just how close she was, and how badly he wished there was a whole lot more contact points between them than his hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders. And he let himself get caught up in that for a moment, so she caught him off guard. It was the only reason he could think why he answered her so openly.

  “You paused, a moment ago. When I said I’d sent your license to the sheriff’s office. I do that as a precaution. One of the good things about small towns is we all look out for one another, but I’m a lone woman running a business and times aren’t exactly flush, so while I am appreciative of the business, I’m also careful. No insult intended.”

  “None taken.”

  “So…why the pause? We’ve established you haven’t hacked anybody up recently, and there aren’t any angry exes chasing you—” She paused, and looked at him.

  “What?”

  “You just did it again.”

  “Did what?”

  “Paused.”

  “I wasn’t talking.”

  “Your body, something. You stilled, then. You sure there’s not someone in Vegas waiting for you to decide if you’re coming back?”

  “I didn’t say there wasn’t anybody waiting, just that it wasn’t a woman. Or significant other. There are a few other folks waiting.”

  “The ones on that list?”

  “Them. And a few others.”

  Now she paused. Then she said, “You’re right.”

  “About?”

  “Knowing too much. Maybe we should have skipped right past it. Just enjoyed the moment.”

  “Maybe.”

  She let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Although, in retrospect, I don’t know why I thought I’d be any good at this.”

  “This?”

  She played her fingertips along his shoulders. “This.”

  He swore his entire body vibrated. They might be having a seemingly calm, casual conversation. But there was nothing remotely casual about what her touch did to his body. “No complaints from me.”

  She laughed. “Except all the talking.”

  “You’re not doing all the talking.”

  “True.”

  “So, back to the question. What, exactly, don’t you think you’re good at?”

  “Spontaneous, casual sex.”

  The directness caught him off guard, though why, he had no idea. She certainly hadn’t played coy up till now. Maybe it was hearing her acknowledge, out loud, that she knew where this was heading, expecting it to, in fact, that jacked his body—and his mind—to an instant fever pitch.

  “You look disbelieving, but you don’t know. I mean, we’re standing here, you half naked, us touching each other, chemistry off the charts, at least from where I’m standing. And for the past fifteen minutes, all we’ve done is talk.”

  He didn’t tell her that the disbelief wasn’t about her supposed lack of seduction skills. She had him right where she wanted him. If where she wanted him was all the way naked and buried deep inside of her, anyway. “The most direct things come out of that oh-so-classically shaped mouth.”

  “I learned the hard way to just say what you mean and state what it is you want. I could have saved myself a lot of grief if I’d stood up for myself as fiercely as I stood up for my job.”

  “Direct has its virtues, most definitely. It’s a large part of why I’m standing here, half naked, with my hands all over you.”

  Her lips quirked then and the most mischievous, tantalizing light kindled to life in those heretofore soft gray eyes. “Not exactly all over.”

  His grin was slow, and he thoroughly enjoyed watching what it did to her expression. “Just wait.”

  “I think I’ve been very patient.”

  “With me?”

  “With life.”

  “So, what, you’ve been waiting for someone to come along and seduce you?”

  “The lack of snow has thinned the herd a bit.”

  It shouldn’t bother him, her talking about herds. Herds consisting of other men. Standing where he was standing, touching what he was touching. And it didn’t. Not specifically. As long as there weren’t any currently waiting in
line for their turn, what did he care?

  More than he should, was the answer. At least if the way his hands reflexively tightened on her hips meant anything. Which was ridiculous. Not to mention foolish.

  “And then I come along.”

  Now her fingers tightened a little, pressing her blunt nails into his shoulders. “That you did.”

  “And, prior to that, you’d decided that spontaneous sex would be the rule, not the exception, even if it meant accepting the advances of one of your guests.”

  “Well, given the thin herd and all,” she said wryly. “Sometimes, rules have to be adjusted.”

  “So…where’s the glitch?”

  “Well, we’re not having sex, for one thing. And at this point, even if you do get me naked on any of the beds in this establishment, we can’t exactly call it spontaneous.”

  “And this would be a deal breaker? I’m confused.”

  “No. But…clearly, I’m not good at it. Talking about it. Thinking about it. Wanting to have it. All those things I obviously excel at.”

  His lips curved. “Thinking about it,” he repeated. “With me?”

  “Endlessly.”

  His body leapt. He wanted to roar. “See? You blush one second, and then say the damndest things the next.”

  “Talking about it. Check.”

  “You know,” he said, slowly backing her up against the cabinet. “You’re not the only one stalling. With the talking.”

  “Stalling. Is that what we’re doing? Or trying to talk ourselves out of it?”

  He pressed his hips a little closer. “I’m not interested in stopping.”

  “So…why the stall? I know why I’m doing it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m all talk, scared a little more about the action. This kind of action. Okay, maybe more than a little.”

  “Why?”

  “The after-the-action part. Like I said. You?”

  “I wanted it to be spontaneous sex. Maybe lose myself in the physical, dodge the mental for a little bit. I don’t know. We’re both consenting adults, so what’s the problem, right?”

  “Exactly. So…?”

  “So…I don’t do spontaneous, either. Apparently.”

  “Which leaves us where? Exactly?”