Anything But Sweet (5 page)

Charli was both eager
and
leery of meeting the woman who’d tolerate that darkly disagreeable man. Even if he
did happen to be devastatingly handsome.

The bell over the door tinkled, and, in a blink, Charli was joined in the store by
the man himself. His perma-scowl remained intact. Foolishly, she wondered what would
turn him into Mr. Happy.

“Come to pay me?” Humor danced within those dark eyes.

“Rent isn’t due till Friday. That’s what you said last night. Have you changed your
mind?”

“About your leaving?” He tilted his head, and those delicious dimples popped into
view. “I believe it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. Mine? Steady as a
rock.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

He leaned in just enough to where she found herself leaning too. Like he had some
kind of magnet attached to his gorgeous chest. Those dark eyes glittered. “But you
do still owe me for the shirt Pumpkin
piddled
on.”

“Oh.” The spell cracked and shattered. She patted the pockets of her jeans shorts,
even knowing she never carried money there. “Well, once again you’ve caught me without
cash. So I guess I’ll just have to give it to your wife later when I get back to the
apartment.”

“You fishing, Fancy Pants?” He smiled.

Good Lord, stop with the dimples.
Her heart—and her self-initiated ban on men—just really couldn’t take it.

“Because if you are, you’re going to need a bigger hook.”

“Fishing?”

“Do I look like the marrying kind?”

The directness of his question should have made her squirm. It didn’t. Because something
deep and really twisted inside her couldn’t help but be relieved that he was unattached.
Well,
unmarried
at least.

Did he look like the marrying kind?

She studied his face—looked into eyes so dark she could almost see her reflection—and
read what she found there.

“Yes. You do.”

Obviously surprised at her response, his brows pulled together. “What can I do for
you today, Fancy Pants?”

“You can call me Charli.
Not
Fancy Pants.” She scanned the store to keep from getting caught up in everything
that made him the man he was. Especially off-limits. “And you can allow us to use
this address for our deliveries.”

“Now why would I want to do that?”

“Laughing at me won’t change my mind,” she said. “Your store is perfect.” She walked
toward a shelf packed with rows of fasteners, picked up a box of machine screws, and
gave it a shake. “In return for the courtesy, we’ll be happy to purchase whatever
supplies are possible from your store. We’ll have deliveries of lumber and other bulky
items. You have a large yard in the back where they can be stored until we need them.”
She had the urge to give her chin a “So there” jerk.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s simple, Mr. Wilder.” She set the box back on the shelf but in a different spot.
Then she took a few other boxes and rearranged them too. “You’d be helping your community.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my community.”

“As far as the people go, you’re right. They’re wonderful. And hospitable. They genuinely
care about each other
and
this town. And I can’t believe a man such as yourself would deny his neighbors the
right to comfort or for their businesses to succeed.”

His beard-stubbled chin came up. “You don’t—”

“Don’t you believe that those who’ve worked hard all their lives and use the senior
center as a place to gather deserve a decent roof over their heads?” she continued.
“Or a place to enjoy a simple meal together? Most of them are alone, and lonely, and
they use the center for companionship and camaraderie. Would you deny them that? If
so, how could you face them afterward?”

His sensuous mouth flattened.

Gotcha.

Charli felt a victorious smile push at her lips. “You strike me as an intelligent
man, Mr. Wilder. One who most likely has a heart. Somewhere. You don’t look the type
to kick puppies or steal walking canes from the elderly. Call me crazy, but I choose
to believe that not even
you
could be such a stubborn ass.”

For a moment, he remained silent. His penetrating glare dared her to back down.

He’d wait a long time for that to happen.

Being the daughter of an emotionless military man had taught her patience. Too bad
for Mr. Wilder, she’d perfected it. Backing down did not exist in her vocabulary.

Beneath his intense scrutiny, she casually took another handful of boxes, blew the
dust from the tops, and replaced them on the shelf. In a completely different order.

“What the hell are you doing?” He snatched the remaining boxes from her hands.

“You have them stocked wrong.”

“How long have
you
been in the hardware business?” he grumbled. “These boxes are exactly where they’re
supposed to be.”

“Really?” She looked up. “You don’t think you should have them stocked according to
type and size? They’re pretty much just a hodgepodge collection the way they are now.”

“I like the way they are.” He shoved the boxes back onto the shelf. “Stop touching
my stuff.”

Charli laughed. “Well, there’s something you don’t hear a man say every day.”

“Did you come in here just to annoy me?”

“Maybe.” In her mind, she did a little celebration dance. “Mostly I came to tell you
we’re going to have our deliveries made to your store.”

“So now you’re
telling
me? Not asking?”

“You had your opportunity to say yes.”

“You’re a pushy woman, you know that?”

“You’re not the first to relay that bit of information. But it’s not going to stop
me either.” She reached out and tapped him on the chest. “It’s a man’s world out there,
Mr. Wilder. And it’s my job to make sure they know they’re doing it all wrong.”

She turned on the heels of her Nike Flex Trainers and headed toward the door. “Come
on, Pumpkin.” Her dog trotted out of the stockroom, where, apparently, by the little
skip in her trot, she’d been pestering Bear again.

When Charli reached the door, she stopped and turned. “Deliveries should start tomorrow.
If you could make a space where our crew can easily find it, it would be most appreciated.”
With a little zing in her step, she cruised outside onto the boardwalk. Behind her,
she heard the distinct blast of an F-bomb being dropped.

T
he summer sun dipped below the hilltops as Reno leaned back in the saddle. Beneath
him, the big quarter horse relaxed and rested his weight on one hip. Reno pushed down
the brim of his hat to cut the glare while he looked out over the cattle grazing across
the hillside.

Most days he was accompanied on the ride to check the stock by one or the other of
his brothers. This evening, he’d slipped out before either of them had gotten off
work from their day jobs. Jackson, a San Antonio fireman as well as a member of the
local volunteer fire department, tended to have long and irregular hours. Jesse—the
area’s only veterinarian—showed up on time and without fail unless he was out on
a call.

This evening, Reno just needed a little quiet time to reflect. Although, if you asked
any member of his family, reflection was the one thing on which he spent entirely
too much time.

He smiled as two calves trotted to their mother, then butted heads to be the first
to start their evening meal.

The Wilder spread had been tough for their father to maintain when his sons had enlisted
in the Marines. When Jared, the oldest, had been killed, it almost killed their father
too. With the exception of Jake, the youngest, who was still deployed to Afghanistan,
the rest had come home one by one to help out. But by then it had been clear their
father had lost the heart to run the store or ranch. Or even breathe.

One morning, about two years before, he’d left for the store earlier than usual. When
Reno arrived a few hours later, he found his father in the stockroom sitting at the
small desk in the corner—head down on his crossed arms. For a moment, Reno thought
the big man was taking a quick nap. But it had quickly become apparent that Reno had
been alone in the room. His father, who’d been a giant-hearted man, had taken his
larger-than-life spirit and left the earth.

Beneath him, Cisco let out a huge horse sigh as Reno himself let out a long exhale.
That day, his father’s death had devastated him far more than when he’d been five,
and his birth mother had walked out of their ratty drug-infested apartment in Nevada
and never returned.

She hadn’t always been a shitty mother. He vaguely remembered times when she’d hold
him, stroke his face with her bony fingers, and promise things would be okay. But
more often than not, she’d walk around in a meth-induced haze and forget he even
existed.

Joe Wilder had started out his uncle, but when Reno’s mother abandoned him, the man
didn’t hesitate for a moment to take Reno in and make him one of his own. To add him
to the brood of four boys he’d already sired. Joe had become a father, a friend, a
mentor, a role model.

A hero.

Reno had spent a lifetime trying to show his appreciation.

In his will, his father had equally divided up the ranch and requested his sons join
their mother and build their lives, homes, and families on the land that had meant
everything to him. The land his family had owned for generations. In tribute to the
man who laughed often and loved large, Reno and his brothers had created a special
place up on the hill.

Reno’s gaze swept the hillside and found the rustic fence that surrounded two graves.
His father and big brother were buried there—side by side—beneath that large live
oak. Nowhere on this land gave Reno a bigger sense of inner peace. He inhaled a deep
breath of clean air, damp grass, and the pungent scent of cattle moving across rich
soil. He took a moment to feel the spirits that moved across the land, and he smiled
at the memory of his father’s laughter as he first began to teach Reno to rope and
ride.

The first few tries had been a disaster, as Reno’s feet could barely stay in the stirrups,
and the lasso seemed too long and heavy to keep in control. But he’d kept at it. The
first time he’d popped a loop over a calf’s head, his father had rewarded him with
a smile and cheered like he’d hit a home run. From then on, Reno knew he was right
where he belonged and, most importantly, how to please the man who, by Reno’s good
fortune, had become his dad.

Behind him, the sound of hooves beat at a fast clip across the meadow. He turned in
the saddle to find Jackson and Jesse in a race. Laughter played on their faces. From
the moment he’d been brought into the Wilder home, Reno had busted his ass to become
a part of the family.

To be one of the boys.

He’d learned he hadn’t needed to try so hard. From Jared to Jake, who’d been a newborn,
they’d all accepted him from the moment he’d walked through the door, a scared little
five-year-old. Before he’d known it, they were all tangled up in the things brothers
do. Fort construction, squirrel hunting, fishing, not to mention more wrestling matches
than their mother could referee.

With that unbreakable brotherly bond, Reno just couldn’t believe that either of the
two racing toward him could agree so enthusiastically with all the changes being made
to the town they loved so much.

Both horses slid to a stop—too close to call a winner—and Reno’s peaceful moment
disintegrated.

“I beat your ass,” Jackson boasted.

Jesse tugged the Stetson down over his longish blond hair. “You’re blind. I got here
a whole head in front of you.”

Jackson turned to Reno for final confirmation.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Friendly competition, bro.”

Jesse laughed. “Told you I won.”

Reno shook his head, tapped Cisco’s flanks with his heels, and moved forward. “You’re
both losers.”

To his minor irritation, his brothers followed, bickering back and forth over who
was the bigger badass. Reno was the oldest now, and a lot of responsibility came with
the job. The position meant that once in a while he had to crack his brothers’ hard
heads together and make them apologize. Luckily, tonight was not one of those moments,
and, finally, they both followed him across the field in a quiet compromise.

“Dickerson lost a heifer and calf last night,” Jesse said, as the horses set their
hooves into the earth and climbed the north face of a hill heading toward Reno’s property.
“He called me too late. Stubborn old coot.”

“That’s too bad,” Jack chimed in. “You could have at least saved the calf.”

“Yeah.” Jesse shook his head. “Sometimes, you’ve got to be smart enough to give up
the old ways.”

“Speaking of . . .” Jackson yanked off his ball cap and whacked away the dust on his
pant leg.

“Watch yourself.” Reno knew where this conversation was headed, and he had no intention
of playing along.

“What?” Jackson grinned. “I was just going to say that . . . Sweet Pickens had added
a new sauce to the menu.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t puss out, Jack,” Jesse said. “We already had this conversation earlier, and
it had nothing to do with barbecued brisket and ribs.”

Reno looked skyward, hoping someone would take pity and rescue him from the torture
he was about to endure. Unfortunately, no lightning bolts flew from the sky, and Jackson
persisted.

“Just wasn’t looking to get my ass kicked tonight,” he said, then looked at Reno.
“You see the new roof on the senior center?”

“Yep.”

“Looks good.”

“Yep.”

“Did you check out Ms. Brooks climbing up and down that ladder all day?” Jackson asked
with a grin that said he knew he’d just hit a nerve.

“Nope.”

“She looked pretty damned good if you ask me.”

“Don’t recall asking.”

“Figured you would have sent her packing by now,” Jackson said.