Page 14 of No Kind of Hero
“Oh.” His mom paused a moment, then said, “I’m coming over and sleeping on your couch tonight, if that’s all right with you. My air conditioner picked today to go out, wouldn’t you know it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I’ll come check it out.”
“I just did tell you. It’s too hot now to fix it, and it’s dinnertime. Do it in the morning and I’ll give you a great big kiss. Or I have a better idea. Why don’t you take the chance to go out tonight? I won’t be in your way then, and I can watch my shows.”
He paused in the act of spooning more cereal into Gracie, which caused her to bang on the high chair tray and open her mouth wider like a baby bird whose mom was slow with the worms. Evan slipped the rubbery spoon into her mouth, pulled it out before she could get any ideas, dipped it into the Peter Rabbit bowl again, then said slowly, “Is your air really out?”
“If it isn’t,” his mother answered tartly, “I’m suffering for nothing. Why would I do that, and why the heck wouldn’t you want to go out? There’s no prize for Most Suffering, and I don’t see that staying home every Saturday night is getting you anywhere but bitter.”
“Thanks.”
The sigh came right down the line. “Honey. I’m grumpy because I’m sweaty and hot. Unless you’ve got another use for your couch tonight, and I wish you did, I’m hanging up and coming over. You do what you want.”
Did anybody else’s mom tell him he needed to get laid? He doubted it. But when Angela came through the door, held out her arms to a drooling Gracie, and made her sobs turn to smiles, Evan handed his baby girl over, took a shower, and changed into his best Levi’s, a clean T-shirt, and his good boots.
A beer would be all right. Maybe some music, too. The Yacht Club. And if there happened to be a woman there who liked biceps better than smooth talk? That would be a bonus. Why had he responded to Beth yesterday—hell, every day—the way he had? Because he was desperate for it, that was why. And maybe because just looking at her had reminded him how silky her hair had felt when he’d first taken it down, how she’d gasped when he’d kissed her neck, how her skin had always smelled like vanilla.
Maybe there were guys out there who could forget what a woman looked like naked, the salty-sweet taste of her when she was rocking and rolling, the feel of those long legs wrapped around your neck, her hands stroking over your shoulders like you were all she’d ever wanted. The way she’d hang on tight as she got closer, and the sounds she made when you finally got her there, when she forgot all about being proper and pretty and sweet and gave it up to you.
Yeah, there were probably guys like that. He wasn’t one of them.
Which was why he was going out. All this confusion was probably about April anyway, not Beth at all. Beth was probably just a, what did you call it. Displacement for the real issue. When you fell off the horse, you got back on. He clearly needed to go ahead and take that ride.
He’d never been the casual kind. He’d always fallen too hard, loved too deep, stuck too long. But a man could change. Time to start.
When he got to the Yacht Club, he almost drove on by. Because there amongst the pickups and sedans stood something as out-of-place as a socialite at a rodeo. A cherry-red Maserati Levante, the SUV of the stars, as sleek and shining as a supermodel and just as out of place.
In other words, Dakota was here, driving the absolutely over-the-top rig Blake had bought her to celebrate getting the cast off her arm—and, as he’d pointed out when she’d objected, because she couldn’t haul on the steering wheel of her truck anymore. But really because he’d wanted to, which Evan had to admit he understood. Blake drove a Ford, but he’d bought Dakota a Maserati. That said something about him, and it wasn’t bad. Dakota had mentioned that Blake was out of town this weekend, too, which meant Evan should check in on her, because there were still too many assholes in this town.
Damn.He ought to head over to the Heart of the Lake instead, where he’d have no responsibilities tugging at him, and where, come to think of it, he’d be a lot more likely to find a single woman looking for some fun to liven up her lakeside vacation, instead of hanging out someplace where he knew everybody’s name and they knew his. Except that he wasn’t a wine guy. He was a beer guy. And hedidneed to look out for Dakota. That was carved too deep to ignore.
He parked at the end of the row and headed for the winking pink-neon Bar & Grill sign, through the late-evening sunshine slanting across the rows of powerboats at the public marina, and stepped into low light and loud music and laughter. Alden Sexton saw him and raised his pool cue at him in salute, and Caroline Caswell and her husband Jesse, who’d played defensive tackle in high school and had his own garage now, gave him a wave.
Cowboy boots and jeans, beer and burgers and a band on Saturday night, and the girls next door dressed to kill. The Yacht Club.
He nodded back at Alden, gave Caroline a wave back, and looked for Dakota. Checking on her. Checking in.
She was sitting alone at a high-top in the corner with a beer bottle in her hand, which was all right. Looking happy, and no low life buzzing around. Maybe Evan actuallydidn’thave to look out for her anymore. Maybe Blake had this.
Even as he watched, though, the number ended and a blonde in tight jeans was walking over to join Dakota with a guy right behind her. The girl climbed back up on her barstool, which was a sight in itself, then shook her head and laughed at the guy with her. Wayne Johnson, who was a dog and always had been, leaned over her and touched her shoulder, obviously trying to get her on the floor again.
It didn’t work, though, because the band started back up, Wayne finally walked away, and the blonde stuck one booted foot up on the rung of her barstool and settled in. She reached a long arm up and swept that mane of hair over one shoulder, and Evan could see the strap of the black halter top around her slim neck, the curve of her waist beneath the band of black, and a whole lot of smooth, pale skin. And half of the guys at the bar could see it too, because they were watching.
He knew that back. He’d kissed that back. Slowly. All the way down it, while she’d lain under him, shuddered, sighed, and trusted him. When he’d been the only one touching her.
He should definitely have gone to the Heart of the Lake. He still could. Or he could head over to that one vacant barstool, the one next to Cheryl Fenton, who happened to have been recently divorced and also happened to be looking at Evan, then looking away. Like she did like biceps, and like she wanted to try on a quiet guy for size after the loudmouth she’d married.
He could sit next to Cheryl, buy her a drink, ask her to dance, and eventually get to a slow one where he could pull her up tight and help her forget she’d wasted time on a loser and remember she was still beautiful. He could do it in front of Dakota and . . . everybody else. Heshoulddo it. Right now.
When Beth saw Dakota wave, she didn’t pay much attention. Dakota had been waving since they’d got here, wrapped in a cloak of self-assurance and shining as brightly as the diamonds in her ears. Maybe it was Blake, and maybe it was more. Maybe it was doing what she loved and getting paid for it.
Beth paid attention, though, when she heard the low voice that was nearly a growl coming from somewhere close behind her. “You should’ve told me you were going out.”
Dakota rolled her eyes and said, “I don’t need a babysitter,” and Bethdidn’tturn around.
“I didn’t say you did.” Evan came into view, and Beth had to look at him then. Navy T-shirt, dark-blue Levi’s, chest and shoulders and thighs making their usual statement, and pale-blue eyes as watchful as a cougar’s. She knew how intense those eyes could get, and right now? They were well on their way. And she was supposed to be dancing. With somebodyelse.That was the whole point of the evening. She should have stayed on the floor with what’s-his-name, except that he’d held her too close.
And her discomfort at that didn’t mean there was anything wrong with her. She’d been plenty heated up reading that book today.
