He flipped the bacon. “The fact that you let yourself down and feel like shit about it pretty much means you don’t have bad character.”
“What does it mean, then?”
He stopped working to come closer and look her right in the eyes.
For one long moment, she became nothing but a painfully beating heart and a rush of blood thumping in her ears. What does he want? What’s he going to say?
“That you’re human.” He said it softly, gently. Sincerely.
She didn’t realize how much she’d needed to hear those words until he’d said them.
He got back to work, breaking the spell he’d cast. “And, since it was more of an omission than a lie, I think you should probably give yourself a pass.” He opened the can of black beans. “Given how disappointed in yourself you are, I’ll bet you don’t do it again.”
“I won’t, but can I just tell you how glad I am to hear you say that?”
He set the perfectly cooked bacon on sheets of paper towels. “It’s not easy when you don’t live up to expectations.”
“Spoken from experience?”
“I was labeled a phenom, and I—”
The door opened, bringing in laughter and conversation. Just like that, he shut down.
One hand holding a beer bottle, the other pumping in the air to the beat, the woman in the red bikini headed right for him. “There you are. I wondered where you went.” She sidled up to him. “What’re you making?” She picked up a strip of bacon and bit into it. “You need some help?”
“No.”
Lulu suppressed a grin at his terse tone, but the woman didn’t seem to care.
More people came in, crowding into the kitchen, pulling bags of chips and pretzels from the pantry. Lulu forced herself not to watch the women flirt with Xander, choosing instead to focus on whisking her sauce. It wouldn’t be as good without cilantro, but she’d make-do.
A sexy song came on, and the woman in the red bikini starting swaying right in front of Xander. Slowly, she shimmied to the floor and back up again.
When jealousy got a good grip on her, Lulu knew she needed to get going. You know what? I’m not heating tortillas. She’d just use the boxes of taco shells she’d seen in the pantry.
They could figure out the rest on their own. After flipping the fish, she washed her hands, tidied up her work area, and then turned off the burner. Using a fork, she broke the mahi mahi into bite-size chunks.
The scents of herbs, lime, and ocean wafted up to her nostrils, and her mouth watered. Always a good sign.
She grabbed her tote bag and started out of the kitchen.
Don’t look at him.
She just…she’d really liked talking to him.
But that pull she felt? She recognized it. It was nothing more than a misguided longing.
Xander Wilder isn’t my match.
By the time she’d made it halfway across the living room, she couldn’t stand it. She risked one final glance at Xander and found him pulling a baking sheet of warm tortillas out of the oven, while the woman in the bikini kept up a steady stream of conversation.
The music got louder, and more people came into the kitchen, attacking the food. She took a moment to watch their expressions when they bit into her tacos. Ryker shouted, “Aw, man, so good.” Another of the guys chewed, shaking his head, “Fuck, yeah.”
They loved it.
Awesome. She lived for that.
Red Bikini scraped a hand through Xander’s short hair, and really, enough was enough. Go. Get out of here.
Forcing herself to walk right through the strange pull of resistance, the urge to stay and be with him, she headed out the door, pulling it closed behind her.
But it didn’t shut.
Out of breath, Xander stepped onto the porch. “You forgot your blanket.” He held it out to her looking…well, eager.
And it made her smile. “Forgot all about it. Thank you.”
He’d noticed her leaving and raced to get it to her. That was incredibly sweet.
He stood too close, not releasing the blanket. A million thoughts swirled in his eyes, but his expression remained frustratingly blank.
“It was nice meeting you.” She hitched a thumb toward the street. “I should get going.”
“Don’t you want to try one of your tacos?” The rush of color to his cheeks endeared her.
She didn’t want to leave him. “I’ve got an early flight, so I’d better pack.” She brought the blanket to her chest, as if it could somehow alleviate the ache. But when the silence grew uncomfortable, she broke away. “Goodnight.”
At her car, she glanced over to find him still standing there, watching her.
And then the woman in the red bikini jumped onto his back, her blonde hair spilling all over his chest. With a hand gripping her wrist, he stepped back inside and closed the door.
She wished she’d never had that glimmer of connection with him.
Because now she just felt lonely.
Chapter Three
Owl Hoot was the craziest damn place Alexander Wilder had ever seen. Once the original settlement of Calamity, the Bowie family had turned the wild west ghost town into a high-end resort. To bring the history to life, they’d refurbished the original buildings, paid costumed actors to walk the streets, and staged regular shoot-outs.
It had boardwalks, a gondola to take visitors up the mountain, and a concierge who could hook you up with any kind of outdoor activity imaginable.
Tonight, Gigi Cavanaugh had launched the summer tourist season with a concert in the amphitheater. Xander remembered her from her days fronting the Lollipops, an all-girl pop band, and he much preferred her current Alt-indie rock sound.
Her parents had rented out the resort’s restaurant for the after-party, and it had quickly filled with people. He stood at the bar with Gigi’s dad—a Hall of Fame quarterback—and Cassian, the captain of his team, but instead of joining the conversation, Xander found himself scanning the room for the woman he couldn’t seem to forget.
He didn’t think Lulu would miss her sister’s show…so, where is she?
If he asked, they’d want to know why he cared, and what could he say to that? I don’t know. I just liked being around her.
And when she’d left, he’d wanted more.
She didn’t seem to like parties much, so he could imagine her standing in a corner somewhere, wishing she were anywhere but here. But she wouldn’t do that, would she? No, she’d be in the kitchen. He’d seen what cooking did for her. She’d get this flare of anxiety, and then she’d turn back to the food, and her whole body would relax, her features softening, and she’d lose herself in the scents and textures.
At the memory, interest sparked in his chest, spreading warmth through him.
When her thumb had idly stroked the lime, goosebumps had sprouted all over his body.
I like the way she makes me feel.
The men laughed, tuning him back into their conversation, but they were still talking about football.
Jesus, mother of God. That’s all anyone in his life talked about. His dad, his brothers, his teammates…one track minds, all of them.
“Hey, Dad.”
He jerked so hard at the sound of the female voice, the seltzer in his glass sloshed over the side.