Page 17 of Two Weddings and a Shoot Out

If he kept pressing his chest against her breasts, he might not be the only one self-gratifying in the shower. But if she had to, she was darn well going to make sure the man knew what she was doing.

She understood his convictions, even though he’d never said anything about them to her. She wondered how she was supposed to get the man to talk about a relationship. Maybe just talking about anything would help.

“I’m excited for the commemoration weekend. What’s your favorite part?” she asked.

“I think the Poker Run will be fun and watching the younger ones compete in the pickleball tournament,” he said, his deep gravelly voice doing things to her she’d thought she’d never feel again after losing her husband. If she was reading her and Compass’ story in a book, she’d be screaming at the book to get a move on. Slow burns had their place, but very few of the authors she beta read for wrote them very often. Probably because they were like her and wanted the couple to get on with it.

“I’ve never participated in a Poker Run. What exactly will the people do?” she asked. She knew because Regina had explained it to her, but she was giving Compass an opportunity to ask her to ride with him in it.

“Riders pay to participate, with the money going to the designated charity. They draw a poker card at each stop on the route. Best hand at the end wins the prizes. We have a couple of people and groups who have donated items. A lot of times the winner will re-donate what they won to be auctioned off to make more money.”

Oh my goodness, this man made her want to pull her hair out by the roots. Was he going to participate? Was he going to ask her to ride with him?

The slow song ended, and the band said they’d be taking a ten-minute break. She followed Compass back to the table.

Bill, Burt, and Peck were sitting at the table with their group.

“Hey darlin’, you riding with somebody for the Poker Run?” Burt asked.

Maureen paused because she realized he was talking to her.

“Umm, well…”

“Fuck off, Burt. She’s riding with me. Find your own woman,” Compass said, glaring at Burt.

Okay. Guess she was riding with him, but it would have been nice if he asked and didn’t just assume she would.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you’d asked her,” Regina said.

Maureen hid a smile at Regina’s tone. It sounded a lot like the one Maureen remembered using to get after her kids.

Compass turned to her, brought her hand up, and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “Would you do me the honor of riding with me on the Poker Run?” he asked.

Holy smokes. Cue the wet panties with his gesture. She’d not only ride with him on the Poker Run but she’d be happy to ride him when they got home tonight because the man set her on fire.

She choked out a yes and then sat down beside him at the table, taking a huge drink of water. It didn’t quench the fire burning through her, but at least she didn’t have to coherently talk with anyone. If she survived being with this man but nothaving him put out the flames, she’d be impressed. If guys got blue balls, what exactly did she call what was happening with her? Surely one of her authors could tell her an apt phrase for the hell of unrequited desire she was feeling. She grinned at the term. She’d read a historical romance the other day, and they’d used that term. She thought it fit her life quite aptly.

And honestly, if someone didn’t figure out how to put out the fire, one of them—either her or Compass—might not survive.

Chapter Twelve

Well,shewasn’tgettingaway for the whole weekend, but she was getting away for the day. Regina did need some items from Wichita, and Hope had planned to go by herself. But the lumberyard had hit a snag, and their delivery was going to be late for next week. Instead, Bootstrap was driving the truck and trailer to Wichita to pick it up. Regina had said that Hope could just ride with him for a day trip.

She’d met him at the clubhouse for a meal, and he seemed nice. The women seemed to swoon for hisbaby girlthis andbaby girlthat. She wasn’t sold on it. She walked into the clubhouse to meet him and to get Regina’s list.

“Hope, I made you some coffee and a breakfast sandwich just in case you didn’t eat first thing this morning,” Regina said, handing her the items.

“Thank you. I was trying to be quiet and not wake up the kids so Slice and Faith could sleep a little longer. I gave Michael his bottle, then rocked him back to sleep. Hopefully, Benji, Micah,and Isaiah will sleep off their sugar coma sometime past nine a.m.,” Hope said.

“Baby girl, you ready to go?” Bootstrap’s deep voice was probably sexy to some, but unfortunately, Hope was gone for Locks.

“It’s Hope. Not baby girl. Not honey. Not sweetie. Not darlin’,” Hope said. She didn’t want to sound snotty, but she didn’t know the man, and he was calling her, in her fifties, baby girl. Seriously?

Bootstrap chuckled. “You are a breath of fresh air. Ms. Hope, are you ready for us to get on the road?”

She nodded and followed him out to the truck after Regina handed her the list.

“Call if you have any questions, but I think my list is self-explanatory,” Regina called from the front of the clubhouse and waved at them.

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