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He was going to need all his restraint to keep his hands off her. And he refused to fall back on the old knee-jerk method of bickering like a couple of kids. She deserved better than that.
But considering how long the attraction had been simmering inside him, he feared the slightest wrong move could start an inferno they wouldn’t be able to ignore.
Fifteen minutes later, the tasting appointment had concluded and Fleur had a signed contract in her possession for Emma Alexander’s wedding reception. Thankfully, the income would allow her to pay the bills this month and give her more time to work out her next steps. After thanking the future bride and groom, she stood in her driveway beside Drake to wave goodbye to them.
Glen would accompany Emma home, so that Drake could remain behind to speak to her, just as she’d requested. That should be a good thing. Except, as Glen’s black extended-cab pickup vanished in a cloud of dust and country rock music, Fleur became more aware of Drake’s muscular frame just behind her. His shoulders cast a shadow on her back, preventing the last rays of the sun from reaching her skin as it slipped lower in the sky. A shiver tripped over her, and she couldn’t even pretend it was because of a chill in the air.
Her senses attuned to his presence. His deep, even breathing. A hint of his pine and musk scent. A thrill shot through her at the way her pulse zipped faster, even when she knew she had to ignore the signs of her body’s obvious attraction to the man.
She hadn’t called him here tonight for that.
“Thank you for staying,” she said crisply as she turned to face him.
And promptly confronted a whole new set of compelling Drake attributes. His dark eyes locked on hers, searching. Was it her imagination, or did they lack some of the judgment they normally contained anytime he looked at her?
A frivolous thought. Wishful thinking that only distracted her from her purpose.
“Would you like to take a seat?” she blurted, needing to break the connection. Desperate to have the conversation ended so she could send him on his way before she allowed herself to be hypnotized by that magnetic gaze of his.
“Sure. Thank you for agreeing to cater the reception,” he returned, shoving his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. He still wore a black Stetson tonight, but he’d traded his boots for loafers. A white T-shirt and a subtly patterned gray-and-black sport coat, custom-tailored to his athletic form, reminded her that there was more to him than a bull rider. “It makes me happy to see Emma so pleased with the wedding arrangements.”
He walked with her toward the picnic table, the candles inside the hurricane lamp flickering golden as the sky began its evening shift from pink to violet. There was rain in the forecast tonight, but so far the cloudy sky only made the sunset prettier.
The sincerity in his tone shouldn’t have surprised her. She knew that Drake took his brother’s and sister’s happiness seriously, since she’d once been a casualty of that protectiveness once herself.
Still, she couldn’t help the warmth that stole through her at having won this demanding man’s approval in at least one area. She hadn’t sought it. But considering how often she’d fallen short of earning praise from anyone in her own family, having Drake notice her efforts felt...nice.
“It’s my pleasure.” She stopped near the picnic table and turned her back to it so she could use the bench while facing away from the work surface. “I’ll do everything in my power to ensure my responsibilities for that day exceed her expectations.”
Drake took a seat on the same side, but he straddled the bench to face her directly, laying one arm along the table.
“But I’m guessing you didn’t ask me to stay behind so we could discuss the wedding plans,” he observed drily, and she welcomed the challenge in his voice.
Why was it so much easier to talk to Drake as her adversary?
“And you would be correct.” Crossing her legs, she shifted toward him. “There are two reasons I needed to see you. First, to ask if you directed Marta to purchase food items from me in the hope of securing my good will in potentially selling Crooked Elm to you.”
He reared back at the words. “Excuse me?”
“You didn’t do that?” She thought his surprise seemed genuine.
Was it possible he hadn’t been using their financial disparity to his advantage? She knew it was a hot button for her after her father’s games with money.
“Of course not.” He took off his Stetson and set it on the far side of the picnic table before tunneling impatient fingers through his hair. “Marta and the cook, Stella McRory, have autonomy over there. I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a diner.”
“Because Marta told me you said she should feed me when I bring baked goods,” she added, distracted by the flexing of his square jaw. The hint of bristle made her wonder what his face would feel like against her palm.
Not that she would ever find out.
“I also set the employees up with better health insurance and comped one meal a day for everyone who works there. I won’t apologize for good employee retention tactics, or for making sure local suppliers like working with us.”
“Marta seemed really pleased to have a 401(k),” she remarked, recalling the other woman’s pride when she’d said as much.
“There you go.” He nodded, seeming satisfied. Vindicated. Then his expression softened. “I had no ulterior motive when I told Marta to extend you a courtesy meal. Though I guess I can’t be surprised you would assume the worst of me, given our history.”
“It’s not just our history that made me uncomfortable with the idea.” She flexed her toes inside her metallic silver sandals, noticing that her pink nail polish had faded. She’d been so busy for the past week and a half, she went to bed exhausted every night, with little time for anything but work. “My father enjoys flexing the power of his financial might in front of people. Especially Lark and me.”
“I’m not sure the cost of a couple of fried eggs and toast at the diner would be an impressive display of my net worth if I were that kind of guy.” The teasing note in his voice made her smile despite herself. “It’s just a gesture, plain and simple.”
