home from her volleyball game after school. If she had gone to the counseling session, she’d be sitting next to Dan trying to work out a situation her mind wasn’t completely on right now. And if she was with J.T….
Well, he wasn’t much of an option, was he? Even though his gift of a coffee, a roll and a rose that morning and his note this afternoon told her he was nearby, she didn’t know how to get in touch with him. Not that she would. It was just that knowing being with him wasn’t an option helped.
Marginally.
She shifted in her seat. “I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Rachel was silent for a few moments as she studied her, then her gaze cut to the approaching waitress.
“Saved by the food,” her sister said, offering up a smile.
Leah smiled back at her and moved her glass so her salad could be put down in front of her.
Within moments they were alone again. Leah speared the crisp lettuce with forced enthusiasm while Rachel did the same across from her.
“I know I can be a little pushy sometimes,” Rachel said quietly.
Leah raised her brows in feigned shock.
“Cut it out.” Rachel chewed a bite then swallowed. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is that, well, you know I’m here whenever you’re ready to talk, don’t you?” she said quietly, her hazel eyes steady.
Yes, she did know that. And that simple knowledge calmed the edginess in her, however slightly. But how could she talk about what she had yet to understand?
Leah nodded, feeling ridiculously close to tears. “I know. Thanks.”
IT WAS NEARLY TEN-THIRTY and there was no sign of Leah.
J.T. sat at the end of the long bar, his fingers wrapped around a still-full beer bottle that was growing warmer by the minute. In the corner the jukebox played an old Johnny Cash song while at the two pool tables four men traded shots, the winners destined to play the owners of the next quarters on the nicked lips of the tables. J.T. had seen his share of drinking holes and this one was better than most, but not as good as some he’d been in.
He’d long ago discovered that a different set of rules existed in bars. No matter who you were, where you came from or whom you were there to meet, it was your business, as long as you didn’t start any problems for others and paid your tab. And if you said just enough to make you friendly, but not too much to make others curious, your face was forgotten as soon as the other men turned their backs, making you just another guy looking to knock back a few brews after work.
J.T.’s gaze slid back toward the door as another just such guy walked in.
He stared down at his beer.
He’d been aware of the odds of Leah’s not showing. But he had still hoped she would come. He needed to talk to her. And the only way to do that was in public. Because when they were in private…well, suffice it to say he had a hard time keeping his hands to himself and they didn’t get much talking done. As for this particular bar as his choice of public places, well, he’d wanted to make anonymity attractive to her. If he’d chosen a restaurant or someplace closer to her home then the risk of her running into someone she knew would have been high.
But he admitted that perhaps he had jumped the gun a bit when it came to timing. He should have waited a little longer before suggesting they meet.
The only problem was he couldn’t wait. The more time that passed, the more he wanted to have Leah. In his bed. Writhing under his body. Her thighs spread wide for him as her back arched up to meet him. Every second that he wasn’t able to do that ticked by like an eternity until the next second and the next eternity. He felt like he could have died and been reborn at least ten times since he’d rolled back into town. He threw himself into his work refurbishing the old Victorian farmhouse a few miles from the bar, but had to pace himself lest he work himself right out of a reason to stay in the house.
The door opened.
Another faceless man entered.
J.T. picked up the beer bottle and swallowed deeply from it, barely registering that it was warm and tasted like deer piss. He put it back down, fished a couple of bills from his pocket then stepped toward the jukebox. It looked like his only options were to go back to the empty farmhouse or stick around here and get stinking drunk.
LEAH WRAPPED TREMBLING fingers around the doorknob to the Lantern’s Light Tavern and slowly pulled, entering the bar before she could change her mind again. She’d approached the bar no fewer than five times only to head back to her car parked around back. At one point she’d even driven halfway home before hanging a U-turn and coming back to the bar….
Coming back to J.T.
She’d spotted his bike right out front so she knew he was still there. Although she couldn’t really figure out why. Dan would never have waited more than fifteen minutes for her before leaving. She shivered at the change in temperature and temperament, wondering how long J.T. would have waited. Another fifteen minutes? A half hour? An hour?
All night?
She still had on her slacks and blouse that she’d worn that morning. She hadn’t wanted to make a fuss for fear that Sami would pick up on what was going on. As it turned out her daughter had been too wrapped up in her own drama, something to do with her best friend siding with another girl during the volleyball game. Much telephoning between the three girls ensued. When she’d left, Sami seemed to have patched everything up with her best friend, Courtney, and she’d been sprawled across her bed talking about a new boy at school. She’d barely given her mother a halfhearted wave when Leah had told her she was going to Aunt Rachel’s to help her sort through some stuff for the wedding.
And now here she stood, in the middle of a dimly lit bar, her ears filled with the sound of glass clinking, beer being poured and pool sticks hitting cue balls, looking for a man who compelled her to do things she knew she shouldn’t. Looking for J.T.
The sound of a few guitar strums floated on the alcohol-infused air. She looked in the direction of the jukebox and found J.T. bending over it, his back to her.
Her heart lodged tightly in her throat.
J. T. West filled out a pair of jeans like no man she had ever known could. The worn, faded denim was slightly loose around his slender waist and fit him snuggly around his hindquarters, making her fingers itch with the desire to run them down the soft cotton, probing the steel-hard flesh beneath.
He slowly turned, as if sensing her presence, her stare. Leah felt frozen to the spot as her gaze flicked up the denim of his shirt, catching sight of the tanned, hard chest at the neck before staring directly into his simmering golden brown eyes.
In that one moment everything but this moment ceased to exist for her. The bar. The worries of her class. The complaints of her sister. The concerns of her daughter. All she could hear was the thump of the bass in the song and her own heartbeat. Her palms and other, more intimate, parts of her body grew wet, her breasts tightened and her lips longed for the feel of J.T.’s mouth on hers.
Neither of them moved for long, long moments. Then, finally, J.T. pushed from the old-fashioned, upright jukebox and crossed to hold his hand out to her.
Leah
