Anything But Sweet (22 page)

Jana came back and sat down. She laid her hand over Charli’s on the tabletop. “Patience
is a virtue, sugarplum. But sometimes you’ve just got to grab the universe by the
tail and give it a good swing in your own direction.”

A
cup of coffee later, Charli followed Jana and climbed the steps that led to the barn
loft. When her feet hit the landing, she stopped and put her hand to her mouth.

“Oh. My. God.”

A thrill shot up the back of her neck at the discovery of treasures jammed together
beneath the rafters. The collection was everything she’d dreamed and nothing she’d
imagined. In her mind, the universe kicked into a joyful chorus of Hallelujah.

Jana stopped with her hand on the rail. “What is it?”

Charli looked at all the wonderful things gathering dust. “Confirmation that the universe
is not a farce.”

In front of her were old country gates, antique chairs, headboards, dressers, architectural
columns, porcelain signs, railroad lanterns, and God only knew what was hidden beneath
the dusty sheets.

“Do you even know what you have up here?” Charli asked.

“A picker’s paradise?” Jana laughed, but Charli had to agree; anyone who scoured the
country looking for antiques to pick from old barns and properties would have a field
day in here.

“Mind if I go in and take a look?” Charli asked.

“Help yourself. If you see anything you like, just holler. I’ll give you a good deal,”
Jana added with a wink.

Charli waded between oceans of aged items with values she couldn’t even fathom. “What
were you going to do with all this?”

“Oh, I started out wanting to do what I’m doing now—putting it up for display in
my home. But raising five active boys put a damper on that real quick. My collecting
turned into a passion and well . . . here we are—years later—with a whole bunch
of stuff and no idea what to do with it all.”

In the midst of examining a set of oak and brass post-office boxes, Charli looked
up. “I have an idea that might interest you.”

“Shoot.”

“Have you ever thought about opening a business?”

The surprised look on Jana’s face said the idea had never even entered her mind.

Charli couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’ve been too busy raising my boys and being a wife to even dream of something like
that. Got too much time on my hands now. So I’m definitely interested.” Jana leaned
against a tall Chippendale chest of drawers. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’ve always dreamed about opening a place that was part design center and part home-accessories
store. Something that meshed the old with the new.” She glanced around the treasure
trove. “A place where someone could walk in and solve their design issues and pick
up a cool tchotchke on the way out the door.”

“This area could sure use something like that. There are several towns in the Hill
Country that are full of antique stores. Sweet is sorely lacking.”

“And everyone knows antique stores are a huge draw to an area. It could help increase
tourism.” Charli inspected an old leather bag with “Dr. Louis O. Anderson—1922” inscribed
on the brass fitting. “From what I’ve seen, Jana, you have a real knack for decorating.
I’m a believer that natural-born talent is often stronger than a framed degree.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s the truth.” She looked up. “I saw an old Victorian house on the way into town
that would make a perfect storefront. If you’d be interested, I’d love to sit down
and talk with you a little more about my idea.”

Jana’s chest lifted on a big intake of air. “Then how about we go back to the kitchen
and have us a little chat.”

A rush of exhilaration tickled Charli’s heart.

She knew her feelings toward Reno were spinning into something deeper than she’d ever
intended. He gave her a sense of belonging. A sense of hope for the life she’d always
dreamed of. They had much in common, and she felt that he could possibly be the perfect
mate to her soul. But though she knew he enjoyed being with her, she could feel him
holding back. Pushing her away even as he held her close.

More than anything, she wanted to know that he could reach out beyond his loss—beyond
his grief—and grab hold of what she had to offer. Though her heart wanted that chance
at a future with him, she really had no control of what he’d decide to do. She could
only be in control of her own destiny.

With or without him, she needed a plan.

A
t half past nine on Sunday night, Reno’s house phone rang off the hook. Five minutes
later, he climbed into his truck and found himself tooling down the road toward his
mother’s place. When he rolled the Chevy to a stop in front of the barn, he tipped
his hat back and shook his head.

On the veranda, his mother and Charli—obviously soused on something stronger than
sweet tea—were dancing barefoot to Dwight Yokum’s “Guitars, Cadillacs” and giggling
like schoolgirls. Their third dance partner was his mother’s pet goat, all dolled
up in ribbons and lace and a hat sitting crooked across her horns.

He stood back watching, reluctant to end their fun. Come tomorrow, they’d probably
both have hangovers the size of the Rio Grande. For now, he didn’t think either of
them cared.

For selfish reasons, he was happy to see that they got along so well. His mother could
always use someone to put a bright spot in her day, and Charli was damned good at
that.

She’d definitely put a smile on his face.

He hadn’t seen her leave the apartment earlier, but he could definitely appreciate
her now in her peasant blouse, cutoff jeans, and red boots. Her shiny hair hung down
her back in a wild mass of curls, and his hands clenched with the desire to feel the
silky strands run through his fingers.

Charli had many facets and more he was sure he’d yet to uncover. One moment she could
be sweet, funny, and sexy, the next she could be giving him hell without backing down.
She could dance on the porch with his mother and a goat or relate to his sorrow and
loss.

If he could design a woman who’d be perfect for him, she’d surpass his own expectations.

He could imagine waking next to her every day. Sharing a sink as they brushed their
teeth. Sitting across from her every night at the dinner table. He could imagine holding
her when she cried and joining in when she laughed.

Without much coaxing, he could fall heart over heels in love with her. It would be
so easy, he thought, as he watched her do a little heel-toe action, then swing her
hips to the beat of the song.

Hell, if he was honest, he could imagine walking down the aisle, having babies, and
growing old with her.

But those were all just dreams. And he knew that every dream ended in a nightmare.

In three short weeks, she’d climb up into that Hummer and drive out of his life—back
to California or her next makeover location. Maybe even go back to some guy she’d
left behind.

While the thought of her in someone else’s arms made him go a little crazy, he tried
to remain logical. Or at least as logical as his jaded mind would allow.

Besides, there would be plenty of time to agonize over what could have been when she
was gone. And he would. Right now, he just needed to get her home and into bed.

The guitars of the song crescendoed, and the women on the porch fell into each other’s
arms while the goat continued to prance. Their sounds of amusement reached through
the air and made Reno smile.

Hands in pockets, he made his way across the drive. When his boots hit the aged planks
of the veranda where he’d once spent hours daydreaming and doing homework, Charli
turned with a big grin.

“Hey, Cowboy. Did you come to pick me up?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She walked up to him—her steps a little wobbly in those bright red boots—grabbed
him by the front of his shirt, and pulled him in for a kiss. Normally, he didn’t show
any kind of public display of affection. Especially in front of his mother. But since
she’d been the one making the—margaritas, judging by the empty glasses on the table—and
she’d been the one to call him to give Charli a ride home, he expected she knew Charli
was a little trashed.
And
that there might be a little something going on between them.

“You’re going to have a helluva headache come morning,” he said.

“Pffft. Nonsense.” She waved her hand like she was batting flies. “We only had a couple
of teeny-weeny little strawberry smoothies. Right, Jana?”

“Right,” his mother agreed. “Hardly any alcohol at all.”

“Uh-huh.” He skimmed his hands down Charli’s bare arms. Felt goose bumps rise beneath
his fingers. “You about ready to go?”

“I guess.” She let out a big old sigh. “But I had sooooo much fun.”

His mother came over, and the two of them embraced. “Come back next Sunday,” his mother
said. “We’ll make
peach
margaritas.”

“I think y’all have had enough tequila for a month,” he said.

Charli giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“You said,
y’all
.”

He tilted his head, looked down into her sleepy brown eyes. “Something wrong with
that?”

“No.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “I think it’s really hot.”

“Hokay. Time to go nighty-night, Fancy Pants. You got a purse or something?”

“I’ll get it.” His mother disappeared into the house. The screen door banged closed
behind her. Then she was back outside again with a pink leather bag. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He tucked her purse beneath his arm. After she gave the goat a hug, he steered
Charli toward his truck. “Night, Mom.”

“Night, sugarplum.” She gave them a wave. “Thanks for a fun day, Charli.”

“Thank
you
,” Charli returned. “You’ll think about what I said, right?”

“I sure will.”

After Reno helped Charli up into his truck, he waited until his mother disappeared
safely into the house. Then he slid into the driver’s seat and started up the engine.
Once they hit the main road, he asked, “What was going on with you and my mom?”

“We . . . bonded.”

“I can see that.” He chuckled. “I think you’re the first person she’s danced with
since my dad died.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So . . . thanks.”

“I really didn’t do anything. A fun song came on the radio—something about ticks,
I think—and we just jumped up and started dancing. Next thing I knew, we were out
on the veranda.” She flashed him a smile. “She just couldn’t say no. I’m too irresistible.”

He did a double take on those cutoff jeans, long legs, and her red boots.

No kidding.

Her stomach growled.

“Oops.” She let out a giggle.

“Did you eat dinner?” he asked.

“We had cobbler.”

“That’s not much of a meal.”

“It was delicious. Your mother’s a wonderful cook.” She slid closer, dipped her hand
down the buttons on his shirt to his zipper, and leaned in to kiss his neck. “Mmmmm.
I could snack on you all the way home.”

He cleared his throat, which did nothing to alleviate his sudden erection. No doubt
the woman rang all his bells and whistles, but he was pretty damned sure she wouldn’t
make it to his front door before she passed out. And he’d never been a man to take
advantage of a woman unless she was an awake and willing participant.

“How about I take a rain check on that?”

She leaned away and looked at him through the darkness with a frown pulling her beautiful
smooth brows together. “You don’t want me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh. Sure.” She slid to her own side of the bench seat and folded her arms. “I get
it.”

A moment of silence filtered through the cab as he waited for her to enlighten him
on exactly what it was that she
got.
Instead, her gaze remained focused out the passenger window, and her lips remained
sealed.

A million thoughts raced through his head—all of them starting with how much he wanted
her—and ending with her leaving him and Sweet with nothing but a heartache.

“No, honey.” He touched her arm, knowing he’d be a whole lot happier with her sitting
a little closer. “I’m afraid you don’t.”

Thunk.

“Charli?” He eased the truck to the side of the road. By the time he put the gearshift
in
PARK
, he didn’t need to look closer to find the problem. She let out a snuffle and a snore.
A chuckle vibrated in his chest, and he got them back on the road.

Minutes later, he carried her into his house and laid her on his bed. He slid off
her boots, then debated whether to remove the rest of her clothes so she’d be comfortable.
Deciding she’d never know the difference, he pulled the covers up to her chin.

For a moment, he gave himself permission to just look at her. He watched her gentle
breathing lift her chest, her closed eyelids flutter. A small smile curled her lips.
Even in her sleep and drunk off her ass, she was beautiful.

Inside and out.

Before he moved into stalker mode, he called her dog, who had remained comfortably
stretched out on his leather sofa when they’d come through the door. Little dog toenails
clicked on the hardwood floor as she trotted down the hallway, then came into the
bedroom and looked at him as if he’d committed a felony.

“Don’t give me that look,” he said. “Get up there with your mama. Keep an eye on her.”

Pumpkin sneezed, and her foofy ears flew up like flags made of cotton balls. Then,
with a graceful leap, she jumped up onto the bed and snuggled against Charli’s side.
He leaned down and kissed Charli’s forehead, then forced himself to turn off the light
and walk out the door.

Not
climbing into bed beside her might be the hardest
and
the dumbest thing he’d ever done. But with all the emotions churning inside him,
he needed to give himself some distance. Get used to being without her around. He
knew he was getting too attached. Even though he’d already found himself knee deep
in wanting her, he had to keep a clear mind. A guarded heart. One foot on the road
to reason.