Slade
knocked on the weathered red door and then pulled his fist back. What the hell
was he doing? Never in his life had he started the night with one woman and
ended it with another. Hell, he couldn’t recall a single sober one-night-stand.
And the two beers with dinner hadn’t been enough for him to catch a buzz. He
ought to take those same stairs he’d just climbed back to the street, to his
truck, and home.
Jules
opened the door, her deep blue gaze as wide as her smile and charged with
desire. “I thought you’d got a better offer,” she teased, ushering him inside.
Her
apartment was all high ceilings and wood floors, with windows on one side
looking out onto Main Street below. A large bed sat in one corner, the rest of
the place devoted to racks of clothes and fabrics, tables and sewing machines.
“Pay
no attention to the sweat shop I live in. I’m trying to get ahead on orders
before we move.” She pulled open the mini-fridge of the wet-bar that must serve
as her kitchen. “Beer, wine, or whiskey?”
“Beer
is fine.” She handed him a bottle before uncorking her wine with a pop and
pouring herself a healthy glass. Brightly colored fabrics were piled high in a
stack on the closest table. “I’ve never seen you in neon.”
She
gave a quick laugh. “I love hot pink, but I have to keep it to gray or black at
the restaurant. Uncle Ben’s orders. Someday I’ll design dresses all day, but
for now dress-up aprons pay the bills.”
“Dress-up
aprons?”
She
nodded and crossed the room to open a large box. She set her wine on a table
before digging inside and then turning to show him a small blue and brown apron.
“Can you guess?”
He
stalled, and then it came to him. “Cinderella?”
She
nodded. “Before the fairy godmother.” She selected a pale blue version. “And
this is after. They’re my best sellers, though every time a new princess movie
comes out I get a boost.”
He
shook his head, inadequacy hitting him anew. He’d never thought to get April
dress-up anything. And he probably should. “Do you have really small ones?”
“Is
it going to put you in dad mode if I say yes?” She walked back to her boxes and
pulled out a tiny one with a cow print skirt and fringe.
“It
doesn’t go away.” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to tamp it down.
Jules
folded the apron, then picked up her wine and came back to where he stood. She
held out her hand. “Keys?”
He
dug them out of his pocket, feeling his brow furrow. She set the apron on the
counter and placed his keys on top.
“You’re
a good man, Slade Weston.” She looked at him over her glass as she took a slow
sip. “But we can’t do this if you’re going to do something stupid like fall in
love with me.”
“I
could say the same to you.” He took a long pull from his beer, a lighter brew
than the one he’d enjoyed downstairs. Chick beer. Which meant she didn’t do
this often enough to keep her fridge stocked. With as easily as she’d suggested
this, he’d wondered about that.
“Oh,
not a problem. You’re everything I don’t want.”
“Um,
okay?” He couldn’t help the grin.
“I
mean, physically you’re delicious. But two kids and a cattle ranch?” She placed
a hand on her waist and cocked her hip out. “Do I look like that kind of girl?”
He
shook his head. Not in a million years. Her strappy heels alone tossed her out
of the running. And then there was her slight frame, the sexy dress, flashy
jewelry, makeup, and not a hair out of place. Not to mention the eight-year age
difference. She wouldn’t fit into any of the boxes he’d checked on Not My 1st
Rodeo.
And
yet, here he stood, his body tight with desire and smoldering with heat. She
was stunning, determined, and heading out of town in a matter of weeks. He needed
someone modest, practical and within reach. Two people couldn’t be more
different. She was an adventure straight off the pages of a fashion magazine,
and he was rooted to the land, a fifth generation cattle rancher. He’d never
leave, and she’d never stay.
