In The Hay (Uninhibited in Apple Trail, Arkansas) (4 page)

Chapter Four

The rag in Nicolette’s hand fell from her fingertips. Her stomach plummeted to the tile floor with it. It was him. Drew. The man with smooth kisses and soft hands who had kept her awake all night and agitated all day. This single man who had tossed her thoughts around.

What was he doing here? How did he find her? Coolness draped across her cheeks. Her vision swam. Just how in the hell had he found her? She’d told no one where she was staying. For Pete’s sake, he was the only one she talked to enough to say she was house-sitting.

He leaned on the doorframe. A dish was in his hands. “I was just on my way to meet you, but Shellie asked me to bring this to this house. I had no idea you’d be opening the door.”

He glanced down the front of her, no doubt seeing her in an oversized shirt, baggy boxer shorts, no makeup, and hair in a half-put-up ponytail. Yeah, he probably realized she wasn’t planning on being there. He likely figured that last night when she ran out of there while he played good Samaritan and helped with the two drunks.

She went back and forth all day over whether she should show up tonight or not. But in the end, she’d decided to stay in. She wasn’t a coward. She was just sticking to her guns. It was hard too. Sometime last night during all her tossing and turning and remembering, she got the bright idea to get on the internet and do a little
Googling
on the topic of sex.

She’d done that until daylight…and then later in the morning, afternoon and well, she just shut her computer down not an hour ago. She could say one thing for sure, she wasn’t near as clueless about sex as she’d been twenty-four hours ago.

Stupid though, now that was a whole ‘
nother
ball game. With each new click and article and tip and suggestion, she’d gotten more interested, wanted more, wanted Drew to act out and explain what she was reading. So much in fact, she’d nearly caved. Had gone to dress for the night three separate times, each time catching sight of her naked butt in the mirror and cringing over the idea of him wanting to stare at it. Never mind her boobs. Or the rest of her spread out before him. And there’d been mention of tasting like she was dessert. Good god, what if she tasted
bad
. Oh yes, she had
Googled
“foods to make down there taste better” along with several other phrases.

Pineapple kept popping up. The last time she’d had pineapple? At least six months ago, if not more. So no, no tasting
there
.

“
Nicolette? Honey, everything all right?
”

Nicolette resisted a groan and cracked the screen door to yell back to Mrs. Baker who was now standing on her porch next door. The woman was sweet and kind and only looking out for her, but not right now. Not during this moment. “I’m fine! Shellie sent me some supper over. Thanks for checking.”

“
All right honey!
”

Nicolette pushed the door open wider. “Come in before the whole neighborhood is standing on their porches.”

He resisted for a moment, but straightened and walked in. He held the dish in the air. “Where do you want this?”

She sighed and gave in. “Kitchen is to your left. Let me put Clyde out before you open that. At lunch I walked in the kitchen and caught him standing on his hind legs, face buried in my sandwich at the table.”

She grabbed the big burly dog by his collar and led him to the back. She patted his side. He walked out, but glanced back at her.

She smiled and whispered. “Trust me, I’d rather be out here with you.”

She slid the door closed and turned around for the last thing she had planned for the evening. There went her
NCIS
marathon where she could drool over
DiNozzo
, alternate between ice cream and popcorn while pretending it was Drew on her TV. It was close enough. They both had dark hair, chiseled good looks, and dreamy eyes.

Instead, she invited Drew in because her raising said she should serve him sweet tea and pie and visit for the next hour.

Gawd
, she was so pathetic. She dropped her head back. Not kicking him out had nothing to do with manners and everything to do with how he smelled so damn good. She’d been wanting him all day long and now he was here. In this house with her. So tempting. And she still didn’t quite know what to do with him.

He eased on a wooden barstool at the kitchen island and popped the lid off the container.

Scents of tomatoes and vegetables and down home goodness hit her. “That smells divine. What is it?”

“Some kind of casserole, I heard her say. Looks like you got enough here for two.” An eyebrow lifted.

She sighed and pulled out two plates from the cabinets. This probably wouldn’t be so bad. They’d eat for a while, then he’d leave and she’d regret letting him out the door for the next, oh, seventy-two hours while she hovered back over her keyboard and gobbled up all she was missing out on.

On a groan, she filled two glasses with tea and pulled a chair out next to him—pulling it away from him a little.

She lifted her fork. “How was the fencing today?”

“Long and boring.”

“Get a lot done?”

He shrugged. “Got about a hundred fence posts driven in the ground. After the rest of them are set, we’re going to start stringing barbwire.”

“Sounds hard.”

“Nothing a little work won’t take care of.”

“Then you’re going back home?”

“Yep, but you’ll probably leave first.”

The food smelled great, but she really wasn’t hungry. Not when all she could think about was how he’d kissed her last night and made love to her and perhaps maybe running away had been a bit rash. Well, that and her plate was covered in tomatoes and garlic and there had been that one article saying it could alter her taste to the negative. Not that she was planning on being dessert, but he was here.

And she didn’t know if she could hold on to common sense and tell him no. After all…there had been that
other
article detailing out the experience of a man down there. God, her head was starting to throb. Maybe she’d pass out, whack herself unconscious on the floor and it would all be out of her hands.

Part of the reason she was in this backwater town was to live and experience. She had to admit, last night life had certainly seemed to pop and crack and explode into full living color. The chance was here waiting for more, but yet…could she just grasp it?

He pushed his now empty plate forward and paused. A barely heard groan came from him while he pulled his arm back and rolled his shoulder, wincing.

She swallowed her thoughts. “You okay?”

“This chair is just hard.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold it in, trying to keep from saying it. She couldn’t do it. It rolled up the back of her mouth and sat on her tongue demanding that she open her mouth or die on the spot. “Why don’t you go sit in the living room? The couch is really comfortable.”

He smiled and stood. He pushed his chair in and his mouth tightened as he did. He left the room, but she didn’t miss him drawing his shoulders up and starting to roll his arm just as he turned into the hall. Work must be hitting him harder than he thought or was willing to admit.

And yeah, so she was raised to treat people like a good southern girl.

She turned to the little medicine basket on the counter and pulled out two ibuprofens and lifted his glass of tea on her way to the living room. He was on the couch. Legs stretched out far in front of him. Head rested back and he looked so good like that.

Like he could go for a shoulder rub. Or general overall body rub. Like she only need to step over his legs, squat so that she could sit on his lap and take care of him for the night. She shook her head and walked until she stood
next
him. Crap, when she'd come across those short erotic stories, she knew at the time she should have clicked away. Instead she’d read for a solid three hours. “Better?”

“Yeah, lots, thanks.” He glanced around the room. His gaze stopped on the photographs across the fireplace mantle and then on the TV. “I won’t stay long.”

She extended the pills out. “It’s okay. Here, take this.”

He shook his head and reached for the glass of tea. “I’m fine.”

She raised her eyebrow.

Finally he sighed and took them from her, threw them in his mouth and swallowed. “Happy?”

“A little.” With that, she crashed on the recliner and stared at the TV. She wasn’t exactly watching it, but then she wouldn’t call herself brooding over him being there either. It was just a couple hours at most and then he’d be gone. This wretched day would be over, things would be in the clear and she’d be set for the rest of the week to happen exactly as she planned.

And then he snored.

Snored?

She glanced over, fearing what she might see, only to find it was true. His head was leaned back. His lips were parted. He breathed heavy and she wasn’t sure what to do about it. She eased off the recliner and moved to his side. She touched his shoulder, intending to shake him awake to tell him to go home, but he groaned and swatted her hand away, rolling to his side.

“Drew.” She shook him again.

“Coach.”

She pressed her lips together and shook him again. “Drew. Wake up, it’s Nicolette.”

A snore of some sorts grumbled. “We’re winning.”

Again she shook and said his name a little louder.

“I say go for the kick.”

Nicolette blew out a breath. Fantastic. A cup of cool water would likely do the trick, but then, this wasn’t her couch or carpet or pillows she’d be drenching. She sighed and lifted the phone and went to the numbers on her refrigerator for Shellie. She dialed and waited.

The phone clicked and laughter rang over the line for a moment before a soft voiced answered. “Hello?”

“Ms. Shellie?”

“Yes?”

“This is Nicolette Jones.”

“Oh, hi honey! Did Drew get you the casserole? Was it all right? I have to say, I was afraid what it might look like by the time it reached you with the way he tore out of here.”

Nicolette glanced at her still full plate. “The food was wonderful. Thanks for sending it. I’m actually calling about Drew.”

“Oh?” Her voice was perky and curious.

“He’s asleep on my couch.”

“Oh.” Her tone flat-lined. “Just wake him up and send him home.”

Nicolette pressed her lips together to keep from laughing out loud. If only it were that simple. “I tried waking him up, but thing is, he’s conked out.” She thought it best to leave out the bit about the coach-talking business. “I’m really not sure if he should drive. I shook him hard several times and he hardly budged.”

“I see. We were afraid of this. He’s likely dehydrated and exhausted. Riley said he hardly stopped today and he only ate half his lunch before running out again. Let me send Riley out to come get him and we’ll have him out of your way.”

Nicolette wandered back to the living room and watched Drew sleep. Heavy breathing filled the air. His eyes were softened, mouth gentle. None of that charm was lighting his face, but he was still so handsome to watch. “I hate for him to come in for that. Drew is fine on the couch.”

What was she doing? She plopped in the chair and dropped her head in her palm. He just had to be so good at sex, didn’t he? He couldn’t have been crappy out there, but
nooo
, had to read her body and mind and give her exactly what she’d wanted and when. This was why she should have lost it years ago with some clueless high school boy. If Drew had taken her with fumbling hands and a fast release, she would not be having this problem right now.

And if he had
guilted
her into putting his hands on her. Like that boy who had
guilted
her when we she was a teenager to let him put his hand up her skirt because
he loved her and she could show how much she loved him by putting her hand down his pants
only to find him with another girl a couple hours later. Momma always said not to date older boys. She learned that lesson. She rolled her head across her shoulders and focused on what she needed the most in her life.

Some clarity or something. Some sort of drive or such that lasted longer than a few semesters of college. A giggle started up her throat when the thought struck her that she would bet she could find plenty of focus on Drew’s body, but she slapped her hand over her mouth and stopped. There was more for her than serving a man for the rest of her life. That she was sure of.

Nicolette cleared her throat. “He’s not going to cut me up in little pieces in the middle of the night, is he?”

Shellie laughed. “No. He’s a really a good guy. After all they did today, you could probably beat him with a skillet and he’d never move.”

“Okay. He’s fine here then.” She talked pleasantries for a little longer and then hung up the phone and stared at the intriguing man stretched out in front of her. The problem here was, she liked this guy for the most part.

He didn’t judge her in the bar when she danced, just accepted it. There was no cutting remark like every other man in that bar had given her. He didn’t write her off as crazy when they walked over the railroad tracks. He didn’t have a clue about her and yet, he still got her more than most people did. He asked nothing of her, really, directed her on nothing and instead had followed her lead on things while in the meantime, still seemed to have everything under control.