Miss Firecracker (3 page)

Willow didn’t unfreeze
until Blake disappeared. Then she sagged against the barstool.

Holy moly. She’d wondered if she’d imagined Mr. Hottie Bartender’s attraction to her.

Apparently not.

Blake was the first man she’d been attracted to in a long time—even before her forced abstinence during her reign as Miss Firecracker. She had no clue what to do about the attraction. Men like him didn’t usually give her the time of day, let alone the I-wanna-lick-you-up-one-side-and-down-the-other sexy stare.

Forget about it
.

Grabbing the bottle of disinfectant spray, she blanked her mind to everything but scrubbing the scum from the tables, when she noticed the chunks out of the wall.

Her stomach clenched. What if she had connected with Norbert’s head? She might’ve killed him. What could he have done or said that’d caused her to swing a barstool at him?

Willow traced the deep gouges and scratches with her fingertips. Evidently she’d held onto the seat portion and the chair’s legs connected with the wall. Repeatedly. Luckily she could fix the damage with Sheetrock mud instead of having to cut out the ruined section and install a new piece, which would require taping and lots of sanding.

Blake’s footsteps stopped behind her. “It could’ve been worse.”

“Yeah, I could be in jail for attempted murder.” Willow faced Blake. Or rather his chest. Her gaze traveled up his broad torso until she met his remarkable eyes.

“Old Norbert hit the ground pretty fast the second you picked up the barstool. So in your defense, I don’t think you meant to hurt him, just to scare him.”

“Why? Do you have any idea what he said that might’ve made me act so…rash?”

“Mandy, the cocktail waitress, said Norbert propositioned you.”

“Eww! He’s older than my dad!”

Blake’s mouth hardened. “Dirty old man. Mandy also claimed he grabbed your butt and tried to bury his face in your cleavage.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Yep. It’s also sexual harassment and I don’t put up with that crap in my bar. If the sheriff hadn’t banned Norbert for his part in last night’s events, I would have. So you don’t worry about him showing up tonight.”

“Good.” She swiped the table one final time. “Done.”

He whistled. “You’re fast.”

“Efficient. Now what?” She glanced at the door. “Are we open for business?”

“Yeah. Been slow this time of day. Picks up around four when all the events let out. That’s when Mandy comes in.”

Willow followed him behind the bar. “So we’re alone?”

Blake spun around so fast she smacked her face into his chest. His hands landed on her shoulders to steady her. “You aren’t afraid to be alone with me, are you?”

“No. Geez. I woke up naked with you this morning, Blake. I think you’ve proved yourself trustworthy.”

“And here I was hoping you’d try to find my hidden wild streak.”

“Do you have one?”

“Everyone has one. I can’t wait to see more of yours.” He smiled and chucked her under the chin. “Let’s finish prep.”

He showed her how to load the glass washer behind the bar. Then he demonstrated the best way to slice the fruit for drinks.

Willow stared at him as he dried glasses.

“What?”

“Tell me about yourself, Blake West.”

Unease briefly skittered across his face. “Not much to tell. I’m your basic, boring bartender.”

“I don’t believe it.” She let her gaze wander from the mass of curls, down his rugged face, across that solid chest and sculpted abdomen to his lean hips.
Don’t look lower
. Yet, she wondered if he was well proportioned everywhere. Withholding a smirk, she met his eyes and pointed the knife at him. “You can do better.”

“All right, all right. I’ll talk if you quit waving that knife at me and get to work.”

“Fine.” She turned.
Thwack
. The knife halved a lemon. “Start talking.”

Heavy sigh. “I’m a born and bred Wyomingite. I’ve lived outside of Sundance my whole life.”

“Really? I went to Devil’s Tower once. Gorgeous country.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You a cowboy?”

Pause. “Not really.”

“How do you know Dave?”

“We went to high school together. He married a woman from here. They ended up divorced and she moved on, but he stayed.”

“Are you married?”

“Nope.”

“Ever been married?”

“No. I have a dog though.”

Willow snorted.

“See? Told ya I’m boring. What goes around comes around. Why don’t you fill me in on Willow’s world.”

Thwack
. Another lemon drawn and quartered. “What do you want to know?”

“Your day job. How you got to be a beauty queen.”

Willow peeked at him over her shoulder. “The last one surprised you, huh?”

“No. Why would you say that?”

“Because it shocked everyone else in the county.” Jerks.
Thwack
.

“I think we’ve established I’m not like everyone else, Will.”

Will
. Her nickname. Most men in her employ called her Will, but it sounded different coming from Blake. Almost like a term of endearment.

Wishful thinking.

“But it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me.”

The man was so polite. She turned and rested her behind on the lip of the prep sink. “No, I’ll tell you. It’s sort of funny in a ‘the joke’s on me’ way. The Miss Firecracker Pageant is always held during the county fair prior to the Fourth of July celebrations.

“Last year, there was a shortage on contestants. So this bitchy girl Destiny, who’s been a pain in my rear my whole life, filled out the paperwork in my name and submitted it as a joke. The pageant director, a good friend of mother’s, called me two weeks before the pageant, beside herself that I planned to participate as a ‘surprise’ for my mother. She reminded me to pay my entry fee.”

“Jesus. That’s cold.”

“Yeah. I figured out what’d happened. I was embarrassed, planning to get even with Destiny—after I withdrew from the stupid competition—when my mother showed up at my house. With a beaded evening gown and a boatload of makeup. And hair gunk.” Willow focused on a bottle of tequila on the shelf beside Blake rather than his curious eyes. “It’s obvious I’m not—nor have I ever been—beauty queen material. I’m like…beyond a tomboy. I skipped my high school prom for a monster truck rally in Omaha. I graduated from Vo-Tech for cripesake. I wear steel-toed boots, not stilettos.

“Growing up I tagged after my dad on jobsites rather than hanging with Mom and learning to cook, sew, shop or do girly things. Clothes, hair, makeup—that whole fussy routine eludes me. In the morning I wash my face, brush my teeth and throw my hair in a ponytail. That’s my entire beauty regimen.”

“I’m guessing you clean up pretty good, Will.”

She shrugged off his compliment, even when it secretly pleased her. “Seeing my mom bursting with excitement about helping me do all the pageant stuff…I couldn’t back out. And because people laughed me off, I was even more determined to win.”

“And you did.”

“Yes, I did. The best part was Destiny’s absolute shock. Totally worth parading across the stage in a swimsuit and ankle-breaking heels.”

“What about your dad?”

“He was happy about the ‘no dating’ rule.”

“There’s a no dating rule?” Blake asked.

“Yep. This is an old-fashioned type of county contest that doesn’t feed into any of the larger pageants like Miss Nebraska. It’s more…wholesome, so the coordinators expect the winner to be a role model for the young girls in the area. And truthfully, the dating thing wasn’t an issue for me, since I haven’t dated in forever.” Willow frowned. “My dad warned me to expect the guys to razz me about the sash clashing with my toolbelt.”

“Toolbelt?” Blake’s look was quizzical. “What do you do for a living that requires you to wear a toolbelt?”

“I’m a carpenter.”

He grinned. Widely. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his gorgeous dimples. “What?”

“We have something in common. I’ve been working off and on as a carpenter for the last few years.”

“As a hobby? Between bartending gigs?”

Immediately Blake stiffened up. “A hobby. Yeah. Something like that.”

Open mouth insert foot
. And the foot appeared to be stuck in her big mouth because no apology poured out.

He tossed his towel on the bartop. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.” And he was gone.

She hadn’t meant for her question to sound bitchy and condescending. Blake hadn’t been judgmental toward her at all, when he had every right to be after her bad behavior, so she felt ten times worse.

Buck up, little camper, and apologize.

Five minutes after massacring the remaining fruit, she’d bolstered her nerve to approach him.

Willow tracked Blake to a storage room by the empty box he heaved out the doorway. She poked her head around the corner when she deemed it safe. “Blake?”

“What?”

“I need—”

“Do we have customers?”

“No. But I wanted—”

“If you’re done with prep you can start hauling ice.”

“Okay. But I wanted to apologize for what I said.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for.” He ripped a cardboard box in half. With his bare hands.

Undeterred by his curt tone, Willow sidestepped the piles and stood next to him. “It came out all wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. Forget it.”

“I can’t.”

“Try.”

“But I hate that you think I’m a jerk.” She paused. “If it’ll even things up, I’ll let you say something mean to me.”

His look held disbelief.

“No, I’m serious. How about…do they make toolbelts in your itty-bitty size? Or do you shop in the toy department?”

Blake laughed softly.

“Or, I know. Do you need a stepladder to see the drink orders on the bar?”

“Willow. Come on. Stop.”

She sidled closer. “I’m trying to be a bigger person—ha ha—and apologize to you. Can’t you just accept it?”

“Fine. I accept your apology.”

“If I tell you I’m sincerely interested in your background as a carpenter, will you ignore my earlier snotty response?”

He sighed. “Look. I’m between jobs right now and obviously I’m a little touchy about it. So I’d appreciate it if you’d drop it, okay?”

“Okey-dokey.”

“Can I get back to work now?”

She didn’t budge.

“Will?”

Willow was too busy drooling over his bulging biceps to answer. Without thinking, she reached up and ran her hand from his left shoulder to the bend in his elbow. Yep. Hard as steel. Man. He could probably lift a car.

“What on earth are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” She ducked under his arm. When she gazed into his golden eyes, lust punched her in the gut. “Arms like yours oughta be featured in a fitness magazine.” Willow touched his right biceps and squeezed. “Ooh, flex for me.”

He did.

“Ooh. Do it again.” His muscles rippled beneath her palm.

“Now this side. No, do both sides at the same time.”

“If I let you feel me up, what are you gonna offer me in return, sunshine?”

Her gaze flicked to him. His face was there. Right there. “What do you want?”

“I’ll settle for this.” Blake dipped his head and kissed her.

It wasn’t a sweet, gentlemanly smooch. It was a no-holds-barred-I-want-you-right-freakin’-now explosion of desire. He shifted his mouth for a better angle, all hot, thrusting tongue contrasting with the smooth glide of his wet lips on hers.

She fell into him with complete abandon.

The way Blake kissed… Man, it felt as if his hands were teasing every inch of her, even when his mouth was the only place their bodies touched.

Blake eased back on the intoxicating kiss, proving his lazy exploration was as potent as his passion.

Willow’s head spun. She squeezed his biceps, intending to use his stupendous arms like her personal chin-up bar, when a voice outside the room shouted, “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Blake didn’t rip his mouth away and stagger back guiltily. He merely lifted his lips a fraction and whispered, “Just like I figured.”

“What?” she whispered back.

“One little taste of you ain’t gonna be enough for me.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. But it’ll keep until there’s a lock on the door and no chance we’ll be interrupted.”

Holy moly.

“We’ll finish this later.” He pushed back and yelled, “Have a seat. I’ll be right there.”

Footsteps faded. The bell clanked signaling they had more customers.

“You ready for this?”

She stared at his mouth and unconsciously licked her lips. “Umm. No.”

“I’m talking about your shift in the bar.”

“Oh.” She looked at him. “I’m not ready for that either.”

Those deep dimples appeared. “Good to know.” Blake grabbed a package of bar napkins and ambled out of the storeroom.

It was going to be one very long night.

Willow put her hand to her stomach to quell her nerves and realized her hangover was almost completely gone.

D
uring a brief
lull, Mandy leaned next to Willow at the waitress station. “You’re not doing too badly for your first time working in a bar.”