AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes, it does,” she repeated, beaming up at him. “As always.”
“Then I guess you know where I’ll be tomorrow night.”
“Bring your appetite and be prepared for the traditional food coma, with or without the turkey tryptophan.”
He chuckled good-naturedly. “As always.”
Their festive music selection played out and someone, likely Vaux Forsythe, had pumped in quarters for Charley Pride and Frank Sinatra. An eclectic combo. And their exit cue.
Scout said, “I’ll walk you to your jeep.”
She kept the sparkly, burnt-orange Rubicon in Tilda’s garage—a house Ciara now owned, though that was a reality that still didn’t register in her mind. She’d basically lived a rootless existence her entire life and, like Scout, had never truly called any one place home.
As a travel writer and popular blogger, Ciara was always off on a freelance adventure or on assignment. She’d used Tilda’s address for nea
rly a decade for business purposes only, and it was where she crashed on occasion when she needed some time to decompress from her whirlwind excursions. It just wasn’t quite the same now, without her grandma. Incredibly lonely and empty, in fact. Though hopefully that feeling would ebb when the place was filled with all the people who faithfully turned out for the Pilgrim Society’s extravaganzas during the holiday week.
Scout grabbed his brown distressed-leather jacket with warm-looking shearling trim and they said their goodbyes to some of the townsfolk and left Waylon’s. When they reached the Rubicon parallel parked midway down the street, Ciara handed over the keys. Scout liked to do the manly thing and unlock and open her door for her.
Before she climbed in, he brushed a few strands of hair from her temple. His finger and thumb lightly rubbed the thick lock. She’d changed the color from strawberry-blonde to nearly black, with a hint of red lowlights. The style was longer than she usually wore it and sleek, instead of the natural curls she’d never blown out until recently.
He said, “I like this darker color. Very striking against all that creamy skin of yours.”
Skin that tingled from his heated gaze. Yet disconcertion slithered down her spine.
“I got a little tired of people telling me I look just like Delaney St. James. Ironic, since I’d spent so much of my life wishing I did. Sadly… I learned right off the bat that aside from appearances, I don’t ever want to be like my mother.”
Scout gave a slight scowl. “It’s impossible for you to be like her, sweetheart. Cold and bitter. That’s not you, Ciara.”
Her throat tightened. She felt the prickle again behind her eyes. But held the emotions in check. Coming back here always got to her.
She said, “No one knows the true extent of my mother’s heroin addiction—just that, in the end, that’s what killed her. They don’t know how she acted when cameras weren’t rolling or flashing. I won’t ever tell anyone. You and Tilda are the only ones besides me who know how ugly she was on the inside. And I appreciate that you’ve always kept my secret.”
His irises deepened in color, almost turning onyx. A sufficient sign of angst—on her behalf. He said, “I’ve never liked knowing what I know about how you grew up. But when you ask me to keep something between us, baby, that’s where it stays.”
“Thank you.”
“Nothing to thank me for, sweetheart. I’m always on your side.”
His head slowly dipped and his mouth lingered a mere breath from hers. They were momentarily suspended in time as they stared into each other’s eyes. It was that perfect, precious point where anticipation mounted and need gripped them both. Her heart soared. Her insides blazed.
And every fiber of her being cried out for his kiss…
Chapter Three
Scout’s warm lips brushed over hers in a feathery touch that made her blood sing and had her body and soul instantly begging for more.
He murmured, “I think about you all the time. You know that, right?”
Ciara’s stomach fluttered. “I’m happy to hear it.”
He kissed her again. Softly. Sexily. Tongueless kisses that teased and titillated.
It was best they didn’t go for a full-on lip-lock. Because it’d be a scorcher. And not only would they end up in bed and Ciara would not get the things done this evening that had to be taken care of, but they’d also set the rumor mill on fire.
Hell, they’d likely done that already with their pressed-to-each-other dancing. So she needed to keep a cool head where Scout Winchester was concerned.
Tilda had always enjoyed the gossip around town; she’d just never wanted her family to be headliners. That was why the St. James family kept their skeletons in their closets. As much as they could, at any rate.
