Learning to Ride (3 page)

The string of
curses that ran through Tanner's mind would have earned him a pair of boxed ears from his grandmother. His hot out-of-towner hookup was his
neighbor?

“You're moving here?” he asked dumbly, staring back at her in shock.

“Correction: I've moved here. Past tense.” She looked no more pleased about it than he was.

How the hell could this be? She drove a car with New York plates. She'd been staying at the local motel. Hell, she talked like a damn Kennedy. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling as though he'd been set up. “You're complaining that I didn't tell you I was a former rodeo competitor, when you didn't see fit to tell me that you were fixing to put down stakes here?”

She bit her lip and tightened her grip on the wooden handle. “It didn't come up,” she said, half defensive, half sheepish.

“Yeah, well, neither did my former profession.” He jammed the rake back into the display. “Perhaps because it's ‘past tense' as well. Your moving to Sunnybell seems much more relevant.”

“You're right, it is. You know why?” She raised both eyebrows, daring him to answer. He knew better than to take the bait, and waited silently for her to continue, which she did almost immediately. “Because I don't want all my new coworkers making a habit of demanding details of my private life so they can get all the juicy details about what it's like to go to bed with
Callen the Stallion
.”

Tanner nearly choked on thin air. There was a term he hadn't heard in years. His idiot friend Mack had thought it was hilarious to tease him with it back when they were on the circuit together, but the damn name had followed him back home somehow. He'd have to remember to thank his friend.

“You may be new here,” he said, pointing at her before jabbing his finger at his own chest, “but I've spent my whole adult life avoiding being gossiped about. If I'd have known you were here to stay, I'd never have said two words to you.”

She frowned. “What a lovely sentiment. Unfortunately, neither one of us can go back in time and un-ring that bell, so I suggest we just pretend that night never happened.”

Tanner straightened, the comment hitting him all wrong. “Beg your pardon?”

He wasn't any happier about the situation than she was, but damned if he was going to pretend that they hadn't just about singed the sheets with the sparks flying between them. She was acting like nothing had happened, but he remembered every minute they'd spent pressed against each other.

“It was a mistake,” she said, shaking her head. “A stupid decision that I wish I could undo. Since that option's off the table, the next best thing is to forget we ever set eyes on each other in the first place.”

He may have been poised to hightail it out of there like a deer in a hunter's sights not two minutes ago, but now? He planted his feet more firmly. His pride wasn't about to let her get away with pretending that their time together hadn't been about as charged as a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. He wouldn't have allowed things to happen as they had if he'd known she was here to stay, but he damn sure wasn't about to deny it now. And he could be right stubborn when he put his mind to something.

“I'm not sure that's possible, seeing how we're to be neighbors. And you know what? I was raised to be nothing if not neighborly,” he drawled, sending her a lazy half smile. Stepping toward her, he grabbed the rake in her hands and tugged.

Taken off guard, she stumbled forward, stopping only inches from him.

He continued, his voice low and seductive. “So, neighbor, how 'bout I lend you a hand. Show you how this here rake works?”

The familiar sizzle of chemistry zinged between them, surprising him with its intensity. Her lips parted as her chest rose and fell with her suddenly fast breathing. In that moment, he remembered every kiss, every gasp, every satisfied sigh she'd breathed that night.

Damn
. He should have walked away when he had the chance. Because God help him, it was too late now.

In her defense, she
really
hated yard work.

Nibbling her bottom lip, Madeline stood in the small wood-paneled kitchen of her rental house, watching the half-naked man raking her yard with a vengeance. No, there was no defense. He'd pulled her close, with challenge burning in those Tiffany-blue eyes, and she'd folded like a cheap card table.

Holding her head high, she'd said, “If you wish to dabble in unpaid landscaping, be my guest.” To which he'd grinned, grabbed her rake, and headed for the checkout.

And everything had been fine until the shirt had come off.

Why did it have to be so hot here, anyway? It was November, for Pete's sake. Sweater weather. The time for boots and cute coats and pumpkin spice lattes. Leave it to Texas to have a November day hot enough to make her sweat. Well, technically it was making
him
sweat, causing the shirt removal, which in turn caused her to sweat, but still, it was the weather's fault.

She sighed. Fine—it was her fault, too. She should have been smart enough to tell him where he could put that rake and his knowing smiles, but, well, back to those eyes and her hatred of yard work. Vicious cycle, really.

He paused to swipe his arm over his forehead, and she did what any good friend would do: she snapped a quick picture and texted it to Aisha and Brianna. The immediate, drooling responses she received from both of them made her laugh out loud.

Setting her phone down, she leaned against the window frame and watched as he bent over and gathered up an armful of yard debris and stuffed it into a bag beside him. It was impossible not to notice the way the sunshine gleamed off his skin, outlining each and every contour.

When Tanner straightened, he glanced over to catch her watching him. She jerked to attention and backed away from the window, spilling half her drink down her shirt in the process. She cursed and grabbed the dish towel from the counter, mopping up as much as she could from her shirt before turning her attention to the floor.

This was not like her. She did not go around staring at shirtless men and tripping over her feet like some sort of clumsy schoolgirl. She was a smart, savvy businesswoman who had taken a half decade's worth of ballet in her formative years so that she'd learn to move gracefully. She absolutely refused to be undone by a man who she knew was only working in her yard to prove some sort of point.

And yes, she knew exactly how convoluted that sounded.

The hollow knock of knuckles on the aluminum storm door rang out, and she looked up to see Tanner standing on the other side. His loose grin and bright eyes made it seem like he knew every thought she'd had about him over the last hour, which immediately put her on the defensive.

Straightening, she walked to the door, crossing her arms over the damp spot on her shirt. “Need something?”

He set a hand to his flat stomach and lifted an eyebrow. “Awful thirsty.”

It was like he knew his abs were her own personal kryptonite. She forced her gaze not to stray from his eyes. “You're in luck,” she said brightly. “I've arranged for an endless supply of cool, crystal-clear water just for you.” She nodded toward the hose.

He didn't move, and actually seemed a little amused. “A man could use a cold beer on a day like this.”

“I agree completely. Why don't you grab yourself one on the way home. You've definitely earned it.” She gave him her most impersonal smile.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” he drawled, pushing his hat up an inch with his thumb. A lock of dark, damp hair fell across his forehead.

“I know, but life is disappointing sometimes. Thanks for the help, though. I do appreciate it.” Nodding once, she closed the door.

There. See? She could resist him. And she could
definitely
resist the effect his presence in her life had on her work persona. Whenever she felt herself softening, she needed to remember the looks on her coworkers' faces yesterday. She hoped she'd never feel that sort of mortification again, let alone at her workplace.

She'd allowed herself to be drawn in by his challenging gaze, but hoped disappointing him now would put an end to whatever might happen between them.

Two hours later, she'd scrubbed every last greasy morsel from the kitchen until it was finally to the point where the thought of walking barefoot on the 1970s linoleum didn't gross her out. Her back ached, her fingers were tired, and the smell of bleach seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her nose. Tossing her yellow gloves in the sink, she stood and stretched. One room would have to be enough for the day.

Out of the corner of her eye, movement snagged her attention. She started to walk over to the window but came to an abrupt halt, her mouth dropping open.

What in the world?
Her yard was immaculate. All the weeds, scrabbly brush, and debris were completely gone. It was neat as a pin, as though someone hadn't completely neglected it for the past five years or so. But…she'd thought it would have taken days to tackle that mess. Moreover, she'd assumed Tanner had packed up and left after she'd shut the door on him.

But he'd stayed. He'd finished it. Why?

Madeline saw the movement again and glanced to the right. Her stomach flipped. There stood her yard-hero cowboy, sweat-stained, exhausted-looking, and gulping water from the hose as though he hadn't had a drink in days. She looked back to the spotless yard. She couldn't believe he'd worked so hard for her, especially after the frosty way she'd treated him.

She groaned, her nose wrinkled in distaste.
Crap
. She had no choice but to go make nice with the man now. The very thought made her blood pump faster. Taking a deep, bracing breath, she opened the door and headed outside.

The telltale creak
of the storm door opening might well have been the sweetest sound Tanner had ever heard. It was the sound of victory, after all.

Wiping the moisture from his chin with the back of his hand, he straightened and turned toward the door, resisting the urge to grin. There Miss Madeline Harper stood, her lips pursed and her arms crossed over her chest. Her ponytail was no longer neat, with wispy blond hairs haphazardly framing her face. A few smudges decorated her forehead, like she'd been swiping at her hair with dirty fingers, though her hands looked perfectly clean from here.

He liked her this way. Made her look less standoffish, even with the half scowl still wrinkling her brow.

Anyone with a lick of sense would have packed up and left after she'd shut the door, both literally and figuratively. But Tanner had two reasons to stay: Grandpa Jack had taught him that a man finished what he started, and there was a sort of perverse satisfaction that came from staying put when she expected him to turn tail and flee.

When she didn't speak right away, he pulled his shirt out of his back pocket and put it on, giving her time to say whatever was stuck on the end of her tongue.

After a moment, she cleared her throat and pressed her lips into an unconvincing smile. “You really didn't have to do all this work today.”

He did smile then. “Is that a thank-you? I don't quite speak Yankee, so it's hard to tell.”

He couldn't tell if she was biting back a grimace or a grin. Blowing out a breath, she said, “Thank you. Though I never asked for your help, it was very nice of you to offer it.”

He leaned forward and rested his arms on the black wrought iron railing of the steps. “'Round here, people don't have to ask for help. If we see a need, we fill it.”

“And what if they don't want it?” Challenge gleamed behind those pretty gold-flecked brown eyes of hers. He'd have never guessed she was this stubborn after their first night together.

“Not wanting it and not asking for it are two different things. The way I see it, if you didn't want me here, you wouldn't have led the way.” He shrugged, looking up at her. “Or do you wish I'd have left you to it?”

She dropped her arms to her hips. “I could have done it. I
would
have done it.”

“No one said you couldn't. And that wasn't the question.” He pushed back from the railing and walked around to stand on the small concrete landing. “Would you rather I didn't come today?”

He lifted an eyebrow, daring her to say no. Daring her to lie and say she wished he'd stayed away. Because it would be a lie; he could see it in her eyes.

He watched her throat work as she swallowed and shook her head. “No, I wouldn't. I appreciate your hard work.” The words sounded slightly wooden, but he knew she was the kind of girl who didn't back down easy, so he considered it a win.

Smiling, he grabbed his hat from the end of the railing and put it on for the sole purpose of tipping it. “Glad to be of service.”

“I'm curious, though,” she said, walking down a step. “If you don't want to be gossiped about, why risk coming here?”

Grandpa Jack's voice echoed in the back of his mind.
Pride goes before a fall.
He shouldn't have come here today, especially after what she had said about her coworkers, but his pride had gotten in the way. Ironically, pride kept him from saying as much to Madeline. Instead, he shrugged and pointed to the only neighbors visible from her property. “Old Mr. Winters is visiting his sister this month, and Mrs. White is as blind as a deaf bat. I'd say we're safe for now.”

“Oh. Well, in that case, I can offer you dinner. By way of thanks, of course.”

It was a tentative invitation, spoken hesitantly, but it was a definite in. He had her now. Letting his lips curl up just a bit, he shook his head. “I couldn't trouble you like that. I know you never asked me here in the first place.”

Another step down. “No, really. You earned it, as hard as you worked.”

A soft breeze ruffled the hair at her temples, and she brushed it back with impatient fingers. He knew she'd worked the afternoon away, same as him. He'd caught glimpses of her in the kitchen windows, moving this way and that.

“You worked hard, too. No need to work more on my account.”

She grinned then, the first genuine smile he'd seen since the night they'd met. He felt it all the way to the pit of his belly. “Trust me, there's no work involved. Frozen pizza and soda, dinner of champions.”

His smile was genuine as well. “Sounds good to me. Are you sure you want me to stay?”

Pulling her top lip between her teeth for a moment, she gave him a look that said that she knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted her to admit that she wanted him to stay. Yes, he was teasing her into it, but that was what made it fun.

He could tell she was reluctantly amused, even as she rolled her eyes. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

Wrinkling her nose, she set her hands to her hips and said, “I want you to stay. It's the least I can do.”

Success!
Dipping his head magnanimously in acceptance of her invitation, he grinned. “Well, if you insist.”

As Madeline led him into the small, sparkling clean kitchen, she kept shaking her head, amazed that she'd extended the invitation. She'd meant it, though, when she'd said it was the least she could do. He'd done her a huge favor, and she wasn't about to let her lingering embarrassment get in the way of fairness or good manners.

Still, her stomach was doing that weird flipping thing, which was not a good sign. She tried to will the feeling away. This was just to thank him for his hard work, nothing more and nothing less. Turning to face him, she gestured toward the newly scoured stainless steel sink. “Feel free to wash your hands, if you like.”

He nodded and reached for the soap. As he lathered up, she flipped on the decades-old stove and retrieved one of the frozen pizzas she'd bought last night at a natural foods grocery store in San Antonio. She'd driven over an hour out of her way just to be sure she wouldn't run into anyone she knew. Too bad she hadn't done the same for her hardware store trip. If she had, she wouldn't be standing in the kitchen with Tanner, trying not to notice how much space he commanded in the small room.

As she set the box on the counter, she asked, “What do you want to drink? I have water, milk, and diet Coke.”

He shook off his hands, grabbed a paper towel, and turned to face her. “Good to know you weren't just being cruel and unusual about the beer earlier,” he said with a wink as he dried his hands. “Ice water's fine, thanks.”

“I've got tap water, hose water, or warm bottled water that I forgot to get out of my trunk. It never occurred to me that I'd have to add ice trays to my shopping list when I was picking up essentials yesterday.” She'd never even seen a fridge without an icemaker before. Then again, she'd never seen a kitchen that was 99 percent wood or wood veneer, either.

“Such a sheltered life,” he deadpanned, shaking his head. That trademark smile tilted his lips as he tipped his chin toward the sink. “Tap water's fine. When you've lived a life like mine, you learn to take what you can get.”

He turned to toss the towel in the garbage and caught sight of the pizza box. “Hold up. I thought you said you had frozen pizza. What the heck is that?” He picked it up, making a face as if it were a box of liverwurst.

“Goat cheese and spinach flatbread. It's delicious,” she said, grabbing the box back from him. “And didn't you just say that you take what you can get?”

“A man has his limits. Let me see that. I want to know if it's made with twigs and granola, too.”

He leaned forward to grab it from her, and she quickly swung it behind her back, laughing. “It's good, I promise. You need to try new things.”

In two steps he trapped her against the cabinet, his hands on either side of her. Her heart raced at his nearness, and she stilled. Mirth lit his eyes, but so did something else. Something she didn't want to name, but that her body seemed to recognize.

He leaned closer, bringing his face only inches from hers. The scent of sunshine, salty sweat, and
him
filled her nostrils. “I love new things. But that doesn't mean I'm going to eat grass-flavored cardboard.” His voice had gone slightly husky, as though roughened with fine-grit sandpaper, even as it was light with teasing.

Swallowing, she ducked out from under his arm and stepped far enough away that she could breathe again. “Well, you're out of luck then, because that's all I have in the house.” Butterflies whirled in her belly, and she took a long, slow breath to try to get herself back under control.

He turned and leaned back against the counter, his eyes sparking once again with challenge. As he watched her for a moment, the corners of his mouth still tilted up, she stifled the urge to blush under the weight of his gaze. At last he nodded, as though coming to a decision. “Get your purse.”

“What?” She blinked back at him, surprised by the command.

“Get your purse,” he said again, this time more persuasively. “I'm going to show you what real food tastes like.”