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Maybe Maya had a point?
Maybe it was time to give up the high heels I loved so much and invest in some shoes that were more practical? I glanced down at my favorite pair of black leather heels and knew I wasn’t there just yet.
Nope. I couldn’t. I loved my shoes too much.
I melted further into the couch when I took the TV remote in my hand. I was just about to press the power button when I heard it. A knock. The harsh sound startled me, and my body sat still, waiting to see if maybe I’d imagined it.
Other than Maya knocking in the mornings when I woke up late and she needed to be let in, I didn’t have visitors. Especially not this late. My body protested when I stood up and walked toward the door. When another knock sounded, I frowned. Whoever it was, was feeling a little impatient. About to turn the knob, I remembered to look through the peep hole and was stunned to see who was on the other side of the door.
Clay.
Clay West with a plaid shirt under his sherpa-lined denim jacket and matching jeans I knew for a fact fit him like they had been tailor-made just for him. He held his hat in his hand and something else in the other, but I couldn’t make out what it was.
“Darlin’, I get being cautious, but it’s me. Will you open up? It’s cold out here,” his deep voice timbered, and without thinking, I opened the door and looked up at him. Standing barefoot, it felt like I might hurt my neck with how much I had to crane it to look at him.
His eyes connected, and I blinked. The temptation to lean into him, lift my body up on the tips of my toes and plant a kiss of his irritatingly handsome face sparked heat at the back of my neck.
I didn’t. But god, was I tempted!
There was something about Clay that made me want to lean into him and let myself get lost in the embrace of his strong arms. What would it be like to fall asleep in them?
“I’d pay a pretty penny to know what you’re thinking right about now,” he drawled, and I felt like I’d been caught checking him out.
Instead, I shook my head and stepped to the side, silently inviting him in. Seeing him standing in my home, all dressed up with his hat in one hand and a cooler in the other, felt like the beginning of a naughty little dream.
“What are you doing here?” I asked a little too abruptly and immediately regretted my tone.
If he was put off, he didn’t show it.
No, Clay West’s lips simply quirked up into a sexy little half-smile that highlighted the scruff on his jaw. It was dark with sprinkles of gray that hinted at a maturity I wasn’t sure he actually possessed. Either way, it only made the cowboy sexier than sin as he pulled my attention toward him.
“You said you had to close,” he reminded me.
“I did close. Didn’t you notice the empty diner downstairs?” I clipped and winced. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t his fault I was in a bad mood. “I’m just hungry and tired and thrown for a loop that you’re here.”
“Is that a good or bad loop?” he asked, and I honestly wasn’t sure. Clay being in my space felt like something out of a fantasy yet had a possibility of going very bad. Anytime we were together from the moment I’d overheard him talking about me, our interactions were very hit and miss.
“Depends,” I answered honestly. Curiosity got the better of me as my eyes dropped to his hands.
“On?” he questioned, and my greedy, greedy gaze moved from his hands holding the cooler and didn’t stop until our eyes reconnected.
Everything depended on what he wanted. Did he want to carry me into my bedroom? Slam me against the closest wall and ravish me? I’d never had such a visceral reaction to someone. Not once in my entire life. I hadn’t lived like a nun. I’d had dates and a couple of semi-steady boyfriends. But nothing had ever felt the way it did with Clay.
There was something about the man I couldn’t put my finger on. Something that drew me in. Pulled me on a primitive level yet also in a spiritual one. Something that made me ache to lean against him and let him shield me from the world if he wanted to.
“On what’s in that cooler,” I found myself answering. It was the only safe answer I could come up with. He nodded and exhaled slowly.
“I’m glad you asked. May I?” He pointed at my kitchen table, and I nodded.
Clay walked over as silence enveloped us, and I was shocked he couldn’t hear my heart racing in my chest with anticipation. He opened the cooler and started to set out plates.
“Plates?” I asked, but he didn’t answer, nor did he turn to look at me. Nope, the man just kept on doing his thing, setting the table for us.
The cooler suddenly looked like Mary Poppins’ mystery bag.
I had no idea how he had fit everything, but when he was done, he turned and walked right over to me. He didn’t stop either. The familiarity between us was most certainly there. When he grabbed my hand, warmth filled me from the inside out. Clay West was a big man and had big, calloused hands to match. But they were soft, too, and so warm all my sex-depraved, needy brain could think about was how they’d feel all over me.
“Clay, what is this?” I asked, almost whisper soft.
