Back in the Game: A Stardust, Texas Novel (13 page)

Her chin set solid. She touched him and he almost came undone. “Let’s do this.”

“Protection first,” he said.

“Protect—” Pink stained her cheeks and she cut herself off as he fished two helmets and two pairs of grip gloves from the equipment locker. “Oh. You meant helmets and gloves.”

Amused, he straightened, sized her up. “What on earth did you think I was talking about? Condoms?”

“Of course not.” She fluttered a hand, grabbed the helmet he extended toward her.

“You’re not going to get an STD from sitting in the harness with me,” he said. “Just so you know, I get a complete physical every year. I’m not an irresponsible guy.”

“Who cares? I couldn’t care less about your sex life. You can keep
that
information to yourself,” she babbled.

“You said you needed to know all the details of my life—”

“Not details about your sexual health.”

Why was he giving her a hard time? He liked her. He . . . hell, he told her that stuff about getting physical because he wanted her to know that he had a clean bill of health, just in case . . .

Just in case what, Blanton?

She’d set up smart ground rules for their working relationship and he promised not to violate them.
Behave yourself
. He was determined to behave himself.

She raised her arms to snap the chinstrap in place, and despite his best intentions to behave he watched her breasts rise up with the movement, spotted the tight bead of her nipples through her shirt, aha. He wasn’t the only one feeling the heat.

He bit down on the tip of his tongue to keep from grinning, and he quickly turned away. He reached for the tandem harness, strapped himself in, and walked to the edge of the platform. Leaning back in the harness, he motioned for her to join him.

She stepped closer, bringing her sweet scent with her, her little butt wriggling around in front of him, and causing him to realize just how big of a mistake this tandem idea was.

You started it, bucko.

“Okay.” She spread her arms. “Lash me in.”

“C’mere,” he said.

She sidled closer, purposefully keeping her eyes on the sky, looking neither down nor behind her.

He slipped his hands around her waist, and his fingers almost touched. What a tiny thing she was! He secured her into the smaller harness in front of him, only the leather strap and their clothing came between their bodies.

Rowdy tried to ignore the way his pulse kicked, pretended his body did not harden.

Christ, this was pathetic. When had he lost all self-control? It had been too damn long since he’d had sex and that was all there was to it.

“You ready?” he asked.

“I think so,” she squeaked. “I know you won’t let any harm come to me.” Her body was tense, and she held the straps in a death grip.

Her earnest trust snatched him up by the short hairs. She was terrified, but she believed in him enough to turn her life over to him. That took guts. Her courage turned him on.

It also made him jealous.

Yep. Jealous. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been as excited as she was now. When had he stopped having fun? For sure not since New Year’s Eve, but if he was honest with himself, it had been a long time since he’d done something that thrilled him as much as this was clearly thrilling her.

Well, except for kissing her. That had certainly been exhilarating.

Thinking about it made him want to kiss her again. Nope. Nope. Not going there. He promised and he was a man of his word.

Generally.

For the most part.

“Now!” she urged. “Do it now! If we wait any longer, I’m going to chicken out.”

“Okay.” He took her at her word, and launched them off the platform.

A high-pitched squeal spilled from her mouth as they barreled down the zipline, skimming above the treetops. The zipline made a whizzing sound. The air blasted over their faces. He could feel her body shaking.

He leaned forward, pressed his mouth against her ear. “How we doing?”

“Awesommme.”

Her giddy laughter affected him like champagne bubbles, making his head fizzy and his heart light. Her joy was his joy. Seeing her like this made him ache to show her all manner of things. He wanted to get her off that bench and into the game of life.

Yeah, sure. Total honesty?
He
needed to get back in the game himself. Was that the real reason that he was pushing her? It was easier than pushing himself?

With Breeanne’s unbridled glee ringing in his ears, and humming through every cell of his body, things changed. Already, he felt transformed. Reformed. A new man.

He’d thought he was giving her the experience of her life, but the joke was on him. All he could think about was how incredible it felt to be plastered against her tender little tush, her happy noises turning him inside out.

Stardust Lake lay dead ahead. Aw. The ride was almost over. Disappointment tugged at him. Finished way too soon.

They landed with a soft thud, safe on the much lower second platform at his fence line, mere yards from the lake.

Breeanne unlatched the harness and spun around to face him. He was still standing on the edge of the platform, struck anew by her overwhelming exuberance. Her green eyes lit with a grateful fire, and a huge grin pulled her lips upward to her ears.

“Omigosh, omigosh that was amazing! Thank you! Thank for that!”

“No biggie.” He shrugged because he didn’t want her to see exactly how much taking the ride with her decimated him.

“What do you mean? It was huge. This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever done in my life. I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am.” She was dancing around, spinning like a crazed ballerina.

The next thing he knew she flung her arms around his neck and plastered a kiss on his cheek.

He wasn’t braced for the sudden impact, or the feel of her lips branding his skin. Caught off guard, and knocked off balance, Rowdy tumbled off the back of the platform.

Taking Breeanne down with him.

Breeanne lay
on top of Rowdy, knees straddling his waist. His palms were splayed against her spine, his back pressed flat into the dirt. She’d broken her ground rule, and he’d broken her fall.

This was all so new to her.

Her family had always protected her. Kept her safe in the cocoon of their love. Discouraged her from taking risks for fear that it would harm her health. She understood that they meant well, but playing it safe had impacted her growth.

And she hadn’t fully realized to what extent until now.

For the first time in her life, she felt completely alive. Wild. Adventuresome. Fully engaged in the moment of freefall.

She was happy.

The adrenaline rush was addictive and she wanted more. Yes, there had been a moment of terror when Rowdy first launched them off the platform, and her heart leapfrogged into her throat. But then she felt his arms go around her, and every ounce of fear fell away, and she’d simply relaxed, knowing that he had her back.

The experience was a watershed event. From now on, she would forever gauge her life between the pre-zipline Breeanne, and the post-zipline Breeanne. For years to come, she would recall this as the moment when the switch was flipped and she finally stopped being afraid.

And she had Rowdy to thank for it.

She peered down at him. Saw nothing but miles of big strong man. Smelled nothing but manly scent. Heard nothing but the harsh sound of their comingled motley breathing. Tasted nothing but the salt of his skin on her lips. Felt nothing but his body heat between her thighs.

Briefly, he met her stare, closed his eyes, inhaled so sharply his chest pushed her body upward, and then he opened his eyes, he looked dazed and confused. From the fall? Or was it because he had no idea what to do about her?

On that score they were even. She had no idea what to do about him either.

“You okay?” they asked simultaneously.

“I’m good,” she said.

“No broken bones?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrow, tucked her bottom lip up over her top lip. “How is your shoulder?”

He rotated his left shoulder, winced.

Concerned, she placed a hand to her throat, felt her pulse spike the same way it had while they were speeding down the zipline. “You’ve hurt it.”

“No more so than usual. It always aches.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty much.”

“Maybe we should take you to a doctor.”

“I’m fine.”

“It’s all my fault.” She was the one who’d thrown herself into his arms, and she’d done it without any consideration for the consequences. She hadn’t meant to kiss him, not even on the cheek. It just sort of happened. She’d just been overwhelmed and overjoyed and overheated and . . .

“These things happen,” he said. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

“Not to me.”

“What? Falling off zipline platforms?”

Ending up on top of a sexy baseball player she’d had a crush on since she was twelve. But she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Um, yeah.”

“With every wild adventure comes the inevitable fall,” he said.

It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t jumped into his arms. What had she been thinking? That was just it, wasn’t it? She hadn’t been thinking. The thrill of the zipline had stolen every scrap of her common sense. Filled with glee, she’d simply reacted.

For heaven’s sakes, why was she still straddling him? She should get up. ASAP.

But his hands remained at her back, holding her in place as if he didn’t want her to get up either.

A helpless smile spread over her face, she tried to fight it off, failed.

He shook his head, but an answering smile brought a lazy sheen to his eyes. She grabbed hold of that smile, tucked it in her breast pocket, and held it close to her heart. What a nice memory to pull out by the fire when she was eighty sitting in her rocking chair, telling stories to her teenage great-granddaughters. “Did I ever tell you girls about the time I straddled the best lefty pitcher in baseball?”

With her luck, one of those imaginary great-granddaughters would be unimpressed and say something snarky like, “If you were such a badass, Granny, why didn’t you jump his bones?” That is if teenagers even said things like that in fifty-five years.

Why not indeed?

The denim of his jeans scratched her bare shins, his T-shirt, adorned with a Dallas Gunslingers logo of two pistols with their barrels crossed, stretched over the hard planes of his chest.

And his scent!

His natural aroma smashed into her like a steamroller, tripping her up, making her forget everything smart and rational. Someone ought to bottle the fragrance and name it Womb Wrecker
.
Oh yeah, she was in so much freaking trouble.

“Breeanne,” he said in deep voice heavily laced with testosterone. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Her pulse gave up any attempts at behaving, and took off like a Triple Crown contender at the Belmont Stakes. What was he going to say?

“Yes?” she whispered.

Peering into her eyes, he stopped breathing. A few minutes ago when he’d strapped her into the zipline, she thought about how incredibly sexy he looked, so cocky and sure of himself.

While he was still incredibly sexy—hey, maybe even more so since he was trapped between her thighs—the self-assurance had disappeared and he looked like a man who’d stumbled into a situation he didn’t know how to get out of.

Oh crap, she found his vulnerability even more arresting than his cockiness.

“What is it?” she prodded, almost afraid to ask.

“Um . . . I think you might have ripped the seat out of your pants.”

CHAPTER
10

Progress always involves risks.

You can’t steal second base and keep your foot on first.

—
F
REDERICK
B
.
W
ILCOX

Heart still racing enjoyably from physical contact with Rowdy’s hard body, Breeanne went home to change clothes. After that, she headed over to Timeless Treasures to see how Suki was managing with the bookstore.

Her parents were busy helping customers, and they didn’t have time for more than a wave and a quick hello. For that, Breeanne was grateful. She fretted that they’d take one look at her and instantly know that she’d been up to something.

Callie lazed on the second story balcony railing, staring down at the floor below, tail swishing, pretending she was a lioness on the Serengeti, and shoppers in the store her unsuspecting prey.

Breeanne found Suki going through a stack of used paperbacks someone had just brought in. Her younger sister looked as fashionable as ever in a super-short purple and black houndstooth designer skirt, a silky silver top, and silver Roman sandals laced up to her knees.

“Hey,” Suki said. “It stinks like old paper and ink and stuffy libraries up here.”

Breeanne inhaled deeply. “Isn’t it the best smell in the world?”

Her sister wrinkled her nose. “I feel like I’m being punished for a crime I didn’t commit.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back after I finish writing Rowdy’s book.”

“In six months.” Suki pouted.

“Don’t forget, you’ll be getting my cut of the bookstore’s profits. Extra money.”

Suki folded her arms over her chest. “Yeah, for extra work that I don’t like.”

“Money is money.”

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off becoming a famous author? Or didja just drop by to gloat?”

“Rowdy and I knocked off early today.” She still couldn’t believe she could use his name in conjunction with herself.
Rowdy and I.
As if they were a couple.

Suki narrowed her eyes. “Something’s different about you.”

Her stomach leaped. “Nothing’s different.”

“Yeah there is. You look . . .” Suki tilted her head, pressed an index finger into the dimple on her right cheek. “Shiny.”

Um, that could be because she felt shiny—shiny and new and full of energy. “Nope. Same old me.”