Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas, #2)(42)

Chapter Nine


Just as we were lining up to fill our plates, a beat-up red Pontiac pulled into the driveway, parking on the concrete slab in front of the main house. The wrinkled old woman behind the wheel had fluffy white hair that made her round head resemble the end of a Q-tip.

But as she wrenched herself from the sedan, I mentally corrected myself. Actually, more like a cotton ball. There was nothing stick-like about the elderly woman’s body. The white cotton sundress clung to her thick waist and the short sleeves showed all the slack, loose skin on the underside of her flabby arms.

No one, except for Floss, made any attempt to greet her. In fact, everyone was suddenly occupied or quiet and facing the opposite direction with stiff spines and breath-held lungs. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I thought I’d better follow suit and busy myself, as well.

I wasn’t paying attention when I reached for a foam plate and accidentally bumped fingers with Cowboy. As our eyes met, I pulled my hand back quickly. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

“No, ma’am,” he said, offering me the plate in his hand. “Ladies first.” Then he stood there, staring at me in silence as he waited for me to take it.

I accepted the plate and nodded a thank you, then moved over to the food table, where I added a small piece of brisket and topped it with some red-eye gravy that I’d helped Floss make earlier.

When I turned, Cowboy was back at my side, standing so close that his arm bumped mine. “I didn’t mean to touch you,” he said in a low voice.

“That’s okay. I’ll just move over a little.”

“No,” he said, frowning. “That’s not what I meant.” He set his empty plate down on the table and turned to face me as I reached for a yeast roll. “I’m talking about last weekend. I didn’t mean to kiss you.”

Flustered, I jumped as if he’d shot me, missed the rolls, and ended up raking the back of my fingers across the barbecued ribs instead. Damn it. Awkwardly, I balanced my plate in one hand while holding up two sticky fingers coated in a sweet-smelling dark red glop.

“That night, I didn’t come to your house with any intention of putting my hands on you. Or my mouth. It just…sort of happened.”

A shiver ran through me as the blood hummed in my veins. The memory of his hard body pressed against mine played over in my mind, tampering with my sanity. My teeth bit into my bottom lip, pulling it into my mouth as he had done that night, and I swore I could almost still taste him.

“I don’t think this is an appropriate time to talk about that…um, incident.” I glanced around for a napkin.

“How about later, then? I could always swing by your place and—”

“No! I mean…I can’t. I’ll be busy later.”

“Doing what?” he asked, his brow lifted with curiosity.

“I don’t know…just stuff.” Like trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me.

“If you’re upset because I avoided you all week, I was only trying to wrap my head around what’s going on between us. We should talk about it. About us.”

I continued my perusal of a napkin, while ignoring the fluttering in my chest. “There’s really nothing to talk about, Cowboy. It happened and it’s over. Let’s just forget the whole thing.”

“What if I don’t want to forget it?”

“People don’t always get what they want,” I told him, just as I spotted the pile of paper napkins someone had placed at the end of the table on the other side of Cowboy. I nodded to them, silently asking him to hand me one.

He looked at the napkins and back to my fingers. Grasping my hand, he gave me a sexy little grin and said, “I always get what I want.” Then he slid my fingers into his warm mouth. I tried to pull back, but he held me firm while sucking and licking the barbecue sauce off. Heat traveled from my cheeks into places lower in my body.

The suction of his mouth coupled with the erotic tongue action he performed on my fingers nearly had my knees buckling in bliss. Good Lord, the effect this man had on me. I whimpered softly.

When he was done, he kissed my knuckles lightly, gave me a quick wink, and said, “Enjoyed that, did ya? Next time we’ll try whipped cream…and a different body part.”

I quivered from head to toe, but didn’t have time to speak.

The old woman who’d arrived moments before stepped up beside him and slapped him in the back of the head. “Behave yourself, you horn-dog. There’ll be no hanky-panky at the dinner table, ya hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Cowboy said, rubbing where she whacked him.

“Now, stop playing around, loverboy, and introduce me to my newest granddaughter.”

Smiling, I looked around, but didn’t see anyone near us. When I glanced back at her, I realized she was talking about me. I shook my head insistently and set my plate down on the edge of the picnic table. “Oh, no. You’re mistaken. I’m not Cowboy’s girlfriend.”

“Horsefeathers! I saw how you two were fiddlefarting around over here and canoodling over the string beans while the rest of us starve to death.”

Flustered, I tried to explain. “We weren’t…ah, I mean, I wasn’t…”

The old woman scoffed and pointed her finger straight into my face. Somehow it seemed deadlier than a loaded shotgun. “Young lady, you mean to tell me you let any Romeo with a wandering eye play coochie-coo with you?”