May 28, 2012
Happy Memorial Day everyone! Please, please, please have a safe and fun holiday! Eat plenty of barbeque and cake!
If you’ve been following along on my Monday’s Play Peek, here’s the 3rd installment. Next week will be the last one!
What is the Play Peek? Every Monday of my Roughnecks Blog Tour for Rough Ride I’m posting a section of chapter one of book two in the series, Rough Play (say that five times fast!…or maybe it’s not that hard after all.) To catch up, here’s Week 1 and Week 2.
A dismissal. Other men would probably walk away. Jacob wasn’t like other men. He saw something he wanted and he wasn’t going anywhere until getting it. If life taught him one thing it was you want it, you gotta go get it. And he wanted. “Need any help?”
Her ponytail swished across her back, the loose, long blonde strands fell over her shoulder as she glanced around. “Thought we decided I was plenty capable?”
“We did. But if you finish early there’s time to take you to dinner.”
She propped her fists on her hips and met his gaze. Dear God by the spark in her eye and turn of her brow, he was just getting a taste of this woman. “Are you asking me out because you think I’m easy? Because I’m a plumber I probably don’t get a lot of dates.”
Direct. Even better. “If I thought you were easy, I wouldn’t have bothered with the dinner part.”
Her lips twitched. “Too bad.”
He followed. “Too bad what?”
“Too bad you didn’t take me for easy.” She glanced over her shoulder. “That I would have gone for.”
She was speaking his language now. He didn’t think it possible, but this woman just got better and better. “Well in that case.”
She chuckled, her finger tsk’d side-to-side in the air. “Nope. Too late. You’ve already shown your colors as one of those clingy relationship guys. We had a good thing going here. You ruined it with that date talk.”
Jacob Iverson. Clingy relationship guy. He nearly laughed aloud. Dear God, the people who would fall on their asses if they ever heard that. “Are you for real?”
She continued walking, chin up, steps sure and words sounding somewhat distracted. “Last time I checked I was, but if you wake up from a dream in a few hours I guess you’ll know.”
He was helpless but to follow. He didn’t follow women. Never even chased this much. By now there was either an unmistakable cold shoulder or an agreement for later. This was still uncertain. And exciting. Jacob was in desperate need of exciting to break up the nonstop work he’d been doing for the last seven months. Or pretending to do, if you asked his brothers. “So you could be the woman of my dreams.”
Her brow lifted. “Again with the clingy talk.”
He’d moved close enough to smell the scent coming from her. She’d squatted again and that little patch of skin was back on display. “Depends on the kind of dream.”
She laughed. The sound full and rich. “Touché.”
“What time and where should I pick you up? Or would you rather meet?”
“Maybe next time I see you at the bar I’ll just meet you around back in five minutes?”
Heat settled through his bones and sent a groan up the back of his throat. Hell. Yeah. See, he knew this girl was something different. “I’ll be at the bar when the door opens today.”
She chuckled. “I already have plans tonight.”
She grinned and reached in her tool belt again. “Let me know if you wake up from that dream to people throwing rice at us or if we’re sweating. Then I’ll let you know.”
Throwing rice? He all but shook at the idea of marriage. Commitment. One woman and a thin sheet of paper binding them for eternity. Or at least through the length of divorce court. His skin itched and crawled. Like an allergy. Being allergic to the idea of marriage. Sounded about right. “I’ll do that. Will you be back here tomorrow so I can give you my answer?”
“Depends if I finish taking my measurements today.”
“How about a phone number just in case?”
Her brow arched and she pulled her tape measure from her hip. “How about we let fate decide?”
“We’ve been passing each other for months. Fate is well on our side.”
He grinned. “True. What about a name so I know what to call out? Unless you like Diner Chick.” He glanced to her hips. “Or now that I’ve seen the belt, I can call you Tool Belt Chick.”
She shook her head and a humored huff of breath pushed out of her. “Are you saying the belt turns you on?”
He glanced down her body. He couldn’t find anything about her that wasn’t turning him on at the moment. Mud included. He nearly outlined her body with his hands, but resisted. “Will you wear it when we meet in the alley for hot sweaty sex just steps away from getting caught?”
He thought she might have shivered, but he wasn’t sure. It was hard to tell with the way her breasts pressed against the front of that tight shirt. She stroked a hand over the old leather of her belt. “I don’t wear it when I’m not working. Besides, it would wrinkle my pants.”
“Well there’s a simple solution to that.”
“What’s that?” A single shaped brow lifted.
“Don’t wear pants.”
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You do for family, no matter what. Lane Iverson knows that better than anyone. Harboring a secret about his mother’s death, Lane is counting the days until he finishes helping his brothers with some work and can head back to his hiding hole hours away. As long as he doesn’t have to face his three brothers every day, the guilt is easier to carry.
There is only one thing that can risk his plan. All of five foot tall with these deep eyes and a voice that shudders through him. The completely addicting, Gretchen Jones. She’s been watching him the entire time he’s been in town. With courage from her friends behind her, she confronts what she wants. To her surprise, that’s the easy part. Keeping her heart protected when she knows he’ll be leaving? Not so easy, but her only choice.
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