taste?”
“Apparently you’ve never had a good whiskey sauce poured over buttered pound cake.” Did she just say that out loud? “Not that I’ve ever tried anything like that. I’m more of a Twinkie girl.” Her hands tightened around the wine bottle and she barely resisted the urge to take another swig. But she’d already destroyed enough brain cells. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be spouting nonsense about whiskey sauce and crème fraîche, or any other dead giveaway that she was more than just a bar cook at the local honky-tonk. No, if she’d been thinking clearly, she would have kept her mouth shut. Even more, she would have turned on her heel and on Cole without so much as a backward glance.
At the moment, however, she couldn’t not look at him as he forked some cake and took a bite. The speck of sweet, decadent frosting still sat at the corner of his mouth as he chewed.
Nikki had the sudden urge to cross the few feet between them and taste the sweet icing. Her mouth watered and she tightened her fingers against the fierce hunger.
This is totally whacked. He’s not your type, remember? Even more, she had a refined palate. She’d sworn off any and all nongourmet when she’d registered for her first culinary class two years ago. She didn’t do cake. And she certainly didn’t do men like Cole Chisholm.
Unfortunately, her hormones had a very short memory and they couldn’t seem to get past the warmth in his smile and the twinkle in his violet eyes and the fact that she’d been totally celibate for much too long—since her one and only one-night stand with Mitch Schaeffer. The one-night stand that had simply confirmed what she’d already known in her heart. He’d been her first and her last.
Because Nikki wanted more than a few hours of hot, breath-stealing sex. She wanted a real boyfriend. A man to bring her flowers and make her breakfast and make her feel like more than just a sex object.
Not right now, of course. The last thing she needed was to tie herself down.
She had a future waiting for her, one well beyond the city limits of her desperately small town.
But someday...
Someday she would meet a good man, a faithful, honest and true sort who didn’t spend his Friday nights lighting it up at the local honky-tonk. She saw too many of those every weekend and it didn’t bode well for a healthy, monogamous relationship. No, when she settled down, it would be with a solid, dependable, tame man.
Cole Chisholm, with his womanizing reputation and his “here today, gone tomorrow” mentality, did not make the grade. Even if he did like whole chocolate milk.
Still, wrong or not, Cole Chisholm did smell terribly nice. Her nostrils flared and the butterflies in her stomach did a few somersaults.
She drew a deep breath and tried to ignore the crazy tilt to the floor. “I think I need to sit down.”
Cole grinned and patted the seat next to him. “Take a load off.”
She hesitated. “I’m not having sex with you.”
“See?” He held up the glass of milk. “I told you this stuff kills the old image.”
“I’m not having sex with you because I’ve had way too much sex tonight and I’m really tired.”
“Is that so?”
She shrugged. “A girl has to have some down time. Not that I don’t want to have sex with you. I totally would if my feet weren’t hurting so bad.” She wasn’t sure why she kept rambling except that with the music playing in the distance and his close proximity there seemed something oddly surreal about the moment. “I’d be all over you.”
“Ditto,” he murmured, downing a huge swallow of milk. He took a bite of cake and his eyes closed as if savoring the medley of flavors.
“It’s got real vanilla bean,” she blurted.
His eyes opened and collided with hers. “What?”
“The cake. That faint hint of flavor is vanilla bean. It’s April and Crystal’s favorite. They commissioned a baker in Austin to do it.” Even though Nikki could have totally nailed it herself. Her flavors had all been there, but she’d been nervous about her decorating skills. We’re talking a wedding cake, for heaven’s sake. That, and the last thing she needed was to tell the world that she’d been cooking up more in the honky-tonk’s kitchen than crispy fried pickles. “I’m working on my culinary degree,” she heard herself add when he kept staring at her.
What was she doing?
She wasn’t supposed to be blurting out her life story. She had an image to protect. A facade to perpetuate. She had to keep her game face on.
In front of a man drinking whole chocolate milk?
The truth registered and while she knew he was all about lovin’ and leavin’, he wasn’t going anywhere at the moment. No, he was looking at her as if he wanted to hear what she had to say. As if he wasn’t half as surprised as he was interested.
“I didn’t know you were going to culinary school.”
“No one does.” When he arched an eyebrow, she added, “My mother would freak. She thinks women have fought too hard to get out of the kitchen. She hates to cook. She watched my grandmother cook and clean herself into an early grave and she swore she wouldn’t make the same mistake. Cooking is right up there with being barefoot and pregnant.” A big no-no in Raylene’s book. Which was why Nikki and her sisters had grown up eating fast food.
Her mother would never understand her career choice any more than she would accept the fact that Nikki was breaking Barbie tradition and leaving home after finals.
Especially now that her sisters were married and Nikki was the only one left.
The enormity of the situation pressed down on her and she slumped on the hay bale next to Cole Chisholm. “What the hell am I going to do?” She swallowed against the huge lump rising in her throat. “I’ve got finals in two weeks. I need to concentrate. To focus. I can’t focus with my mother all over me, which means I need to figure out a way to get her off my back. And all because my sisters tied the knot.”
“I hear ya. I’m ready to pack up and leave today, but I can’t. I’ve got business here in town with my brothers and I’m stuck for at least a week. Meanwhile there are at least two dozen women hot on my heels.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Only two dozen, huh?”
He grinned. “Give or take a few.”
Nikki wasn’t sure if it was the wine or the warmth of Cole’s hard body that sparked the next thought. Maybe a little of both. Regardless, an idea rooted and she found herself smiling.
“I should get married,” she told him. “My mother’s given up on Crystal and April because they did. If I jumped ship, too, and married some man that she totally disapproves of—which is basically every man—then she wouldn’t have any reason to hold out hope.” Nikki’s gaze shifted to Cole with his wicked good looks and his charming smile and his empty glass of chocolate milk. “I’ve got an idea that might save us both.”
3
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