Seashellsfor Pete’s sake, like a granny from up North who’d come down on vacation.
Given all that, who could blame her for thinking that, despite his flashing black eyes, razor-sharp cheekbones, and carpenter’s square of a jaw, Wolf might actually be woke. As in, more than a pretty face. As in, so much deeper and more complex than those broad shoulders and six-pack abs implied.
Joke’s on me, she thought, looking at him now and trying not to let his nearness steal her breath away. That night at Schooner Wharf Bar had proved Wolf was no better than her mother’s four husbands and copious boyfriends. A man who was nice to look at, nicer to kiss, and probably evennicerto bounce around on for a few weeks. But not a candidate for anything else. Anythingpermanent.
And thanks to her recent thirtieth birthday, she was officially on the hunt for something permanent. Gone were the days of fun-for-now-but-not-forever. It was time to get serious about her ultimate goal.
As an only child, she’d spent her youth dreaming of a big, boisterous family that would fight and love and play cards around the kitchen table after Thanksgiving dinner. As a grown woman, that image remained.
Trouble was, she’d been having a hell of a time finding a man who would make that dream a reality.
There were the dating sites, of course. Some folks thought Tinder was like Amazon. You go online and pick what you want. But in her experience, it was less like Amazon and more like eBay. Meaning she’d sorted through her fair share of other peoples’ leftover junk and—
“Didn’t reckon the thought of havin’ dinner with me would require you to do so much ponderin’,” Wolf said in that Oklahoma accent that split the difference between a Southern drawl and a Texas twang. He crossed tattooed arms that were roped with muscle and frowned so hard it made the scar at his temple pull tight and pucker.
The combination made him look incredibly forbidding. Which, for some reason, made her want him all the more.
Seriously, the urge to tackle him onto the sand and forcibly sit on his face was damn near overwhelming.
Tick tock!her eggs screamed up at her.
Ihearyou!she silently yelled back.But he’s not the one!
“Sorry.” She made a face. “My mind wandered.” She didn’t add that it had wandered to images of her squeezing his ears between her thighs. “Ummm, dinner? No can do. I have plans.”
Something flickered across his face. “Hot date?”
“I wish.” She twisted her lips. “But no. Winston and I have a standing Friday night business dinner to tally up the week’s receipts, go over inventory, and figure out what equipment needs to be serviced or replaced.”
Winston Turner was a childhood friend who’d grown up to become her high school boyfriend. They’d ended their youthful romance, however, when Winston moved to the mainland to get his degree. He’d returned to Key West after graduation, but by that time, they’d decided they were far better as friends and business partners than life partners, and so he’d joined her in opening the dive shop.
“How about meeting me for a drink after?” Wolf’s expression was casual. Yet there was something in his voice that sounded hard-edged.
“What is this?” She cocked her head. “I thought we agreed to be friends?”
“Friends can’t share a drink on a Friday night?”
“Sure. But this feels suspiciously date-ish.”
“Woman, if I was askin’ you out, I’d do it right. I’d get reservations at a nice restaurant with an amazin’ water view and come pick you up with flowers in hand.”
“Boy oh boy. Aren’t you the traditionalist? And would you pull out my chair? Pour my wine? Try to seduce me with your best line?” She fluttered her lashes theatrically.
“I’m thinkin’ the best lines are less about seduction and more about statin’ your offer straight out.”
“Really?” She was intrigued despite herself. “So come on.” She wiggled her fingers in a come-hither motion. “Lay it on me.”
“You sure you can handle it?”
She rolled her eyes. “I think I’ve proved I’m immune to your masculine wiles.”
Liar!her eggs shouted. The little buggers were becoming more annoying by the day.
“If you say so.” He shrugged. Then he…smolderedat her. That was the only word for it. “This face leaves in ten minutes.” He pointed to his intriguing aquiline nose. “I’d like for you to be on it.”
Where is that wheezing sound coming from?
Oh, right. From the depths of her chest because… Hot damn!
