A Fair to Remember Read online

  “I am so sorry. She stole Emma’s ice cream cone, but she’s lactose intolerant and I was trying to get her home, but then she saw you and…well…”

  He realized the dog’s weight no longer held him down and pushed up onto his knees before sitting back on his heels. As he looked down at the ketchup and mustard semicircle staining his white shirt, he heard pieces of upchuck plop onto the grass behind him. The dog began to gag again. He wanted to gag.

  Wes shrugged out of his suit jacket and held it up to survey the damage as he stood. The woman shoved her sunglasses to the top of her head and leaned to the side to look with him. Her eyes were wide as she held a hand over her mouth—and nose—and stared at the dog vomit dripping from his jacket. He gave an uncomfortable squirm at the feel of his shirt plastered to his back, because he hadn’t been sweating that bad.

  “Well, this is just great.” He shook his head. “Now what—”

  The dog lurched forward. Wes jumped back, flinging his arms wide, but not before more puke streamed onto his dress shoes. Hands batted at his left arm so hard his jacket went flying.

  “Ewww…oh, God.”

  When he’d tried to avoid the dog, he’d swung his wet jacket against the front of the woman. Now she looked like she might get sick herself.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, though it served her right.

  “Not your fault.” She tried to hold her top away from her skin with a thumb and forefinger. “Oh, man, I can’t believe this.” She put her other hand on her hip and glared at the dog. “Sugar, bad dog.”

  The dog barked and rose from her sitting position with her tail wagging.

  The absurdity of the entire situation finally struck him, and Wes burst out laughing. The woman looked up, her eyes wide again, probably wondering if he’d lost his mind. She blinked at him a few times and that zing stung again, working its way along his nerves and making him very aware of her striking beauty now that he’d gotten a close up look. Her eyes were a very pretty velvet brown, framed by long black lashes.

  Quiet life, not biker babes, he reminded himself.

  His humor subsided to a chuckle when he glanced down at his stained shirt and pants. “I don’t have any other clothes.”

  “Me neither, but I’m on my way home. I’m sorry you’ll have to make a separate trip home and back.”

  “I flew into Green Bay this afternoon, and the airline lost my luggage,” Wes clarified. “I literally don’t have any other clothes.”

  “Ooh… Well, that explains it.” Her head tilted, the beginning of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Even for an uptight lawyer, the suit was a bit much for the fair.”

  Wes frowned. “I’m an investment broker, not a lawyer.”

  “Sorry, lawyer was the first thing I thought of, and it kinda stuck.”

  “That’s a little narrow-minded, don’t you think? I expected more from a small town—even from you.”

  Her smile vanished. “What does that mean?”

  Wes flicked his gaze to the barbed wire tattoo on her arm, and then he leaned closer while meeting her narrowed gaze. “If you dress the part, you usually are the part…Sugar.”

  The dog Wes momentarily forgot leapt at his face. He received a big pink tongue across his mouth and stumbled back a step. Ugh. Wes spit to the side before wiping his mouth on his grass-stained sleeve. He frowned at the two of them, wondering who in the world named a dog Sugar.

  “Keep a shorter leash on that thing, would you?”

  The woman pulled the dog closer to her and commanded the animal to sit, which, surprisingly, she did. “Be nice to her, she can’t help that she fell in love with you.”

  Wes stared for a disbelieving second. “What?” He looked at the dog. Her sorrowful brown eyes gazed up at him, her ears flat against her head. She blinked once, her tail wagging incessantly, her whole body wriggling. He looked back at the woman. She blinked, too, but her body remained still.

  “She gets infatuated and follows people,” Miss Crazy said. Wes glanced down at her left hand. Miss Crazy indeed.

  He backed up, bent over to scoop up his jacket, and then backed up some more. “Yeah, well, I’d say it’s been fun, but…”

  She sighed and avoided his gaze. “I really am sorry.” She looked as if she’d say more, but then she just tugged on the leash. “Come on, Sugar, let’s go.”

  Wes watched her drag the dog away, his heart beating a bit irregular, and feeling oddly disappointed. That was crazy. He wanted them to leave. Maybe he could get another hamburger. He looked down at the front of his shirt and rolled his eyes before his gaze focused on the crazy woman’s retreating back. The Great Dane moped behind her, turning its head to look at him with its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth.

  “Is that why you were following me?” Wes called out.

  The woman paused, then turned, a surprising blush staining her cheeks. “You saw us?”

  He snorted and pointed, palm up, indicating the animal at her side the size of a small horse. The woman laughed, a natural, unforced sound that sent a curl of warmth through his stomach.

  “Sugar spotted you about an hour ago,” she admitted, stroking the top of the dog’s head.

  “Love at first sight?” He cringed at the stupid joke, but it was the first thing that’d popped into his head.

  “For Sugar it is.”

  Something about the way she said that. “You don’t believe in it?”

  Her gaze met his before bouncing away. “Kinda hard to swallow, don’t you think? That two people could fall in love that fast?”

  Wes’s heart thumped. Yeah, ridiculous notion, love at first sight. He fiddled with his smelly jacket. The girl backed up a step, then stopped.

  “You know, I only live a few blocks away if you want to get cleaned up.”

  New definition of crazy: going to her house.

  “You might even fit into some of Charlie’s—my brother’s—clothes.”

  Ah, see now that sounded safe. She lived at home yet, and he could think of nothing better than getting out of these clothes. Well, except for…his gaze swept down and up, noting the sexy tank, low cutoffs, chain belt, and each of her tattoos. A quick shot of adrenaline left him tingling.

  Crazy.

  “You wouldn’t mind?” he asked, actually hoping she’d rethink an offer to a complete stranger and save him from himself.

  “Of course not, especially since it’s our fault. My parents are here tonight, and Charlie’s working a double with the rescue squad—which is why I have Sugar—but I’m sure I can find something for you.”

  He fell into step alongside her, but still tried to talk himself out of it. “I can just go to the store, I have a rental car—”

  Her nose wrinkled. “You’ll get the car dirty, and besides, you can’t go smelling like that.”

  How nice of her to remind him he stunk like dog barf. He’d been trying to ignore it. “You mean like you?” he tossed back with a half-grin.

  “Yeah.” She glanced down at her shirt with a grimace, and he noticed her cheeks were pink again. It was cute, and so out of character with the tough girl persona that the tattoos and sexy tank top implied. Wes jerked his attention back to the sidewalk.

  They didn’t say much on the way, but it really wasn’t that far. When she walked down a side path to the backyard gate of a huge two-story house, he followed with raised brows. Nice house, nice homey neighborhood. She must be the rebel child. He knew all about that, only he’d gone the opposite direction, from gang member to college student and now investment broker/financial planner.

  His mother would’ve been proud, but his father would turn in his grave if he could see Wes now—if the stories he’d heard growing up were true. Rival gang members had knifed and shot Wes’s father when Wes was only four, so he didn’t remember much except what the brothers had told him of his father’s legend.

  Miss Crazy Beautiful stood aside for him to go first, then latched the gate behind them and let Sugar loose. The dog b
ounded around the yard as they continued to the back patio.

  She paused with a hand on the door. “I’ll be right back—what size shoes do you wear?”

  “Ten and a half.”

  So, he wasn’t invited in? Wes felt a familiar stab of resentment until common sense knocked him upside the head. What did he expect, she didn’t even know him. Come to think of it, she didn’t even know his—

  “Between Dad and Charlie, I’ll find something.”

  When the door clicked shut, Wes turned to face the yard again. The sun had dropped below the trees during their walk, but the temperature still held at a comfortable level. All other things aside, it seemed they were in for a nice summer night.

  He rolled his shoulders, trying to unstick his cotton shirt from his back without success. Suddenly the smell and thought of what clung to his skin was too much, and he stipped the shirt over his head in one fluid motion. The arms caught until he yanked so hard the cuff buttons popped off. His squishy shoes and disgusting socks were next, and when he noticed chunks of food on the bottom of his pants, they followed.

  And now that he’d finished his impulsive freak-out, he thought about when she came back outside. With a shrug, he decided big deal. If they’d met at the beach, he’d have been wearing pretty much the same thing. Of course, he never went to the beach, and now he had a bullet scar on his back.

  He distracted himself by wondering if she wore bikinis or a one-piece.

  Chapter 3

  Tara reached to slide the patio door open, then paused at the sight of… Oh, God, she didn’t even know his name!

  How about Sexy, with a capital S and full sizzle. He sat in a patio chair in his boxer shorts, watching Sugar’s antics with a hint of a smile on his face. A face that had taken her breath away earlier when he’d laughed and those incredible light blue eyes of his crinkled at the corners. Now, looking at the body, well, the man certainly had nothing to be shy about, that’s for sure. He must work out, or play sports—lots of fat-burning, muscle-building sports.

  Then she spotted the tattoo on his right shoulder. Her stomach gave a funny little flip at the sight of a dragon head, blended in blue, purple, teal and green, spitting orange and red flames that wrapped around his bicep. Wow. Even from here, she could see the incredible artistry.

  Hmm…maybe she could bring the Suit home. With her dad, any tiny advantage would help, and her mom simply loved beautiful art.

  Tara fanned herself as she grinned, took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Sexy turned, and their eyes met. Heat climbed her neck as he rose to his feet, and she mentally instructed her gaze to stay above his chin and not stray to his tattoo, or that nicely defined chest, or his killer abs—crap.

  She jerked her gaze up and heat blazed in her cheeks. “Um…”

  “I couldn’t stand my shirt sticking to my back any longer.”

  Had she complained? Tara shrugged her shoulders, then remembered they had a block to walk to her house. And if his back was sticky from Sugar’s—eww, poor guy. Which reminded her, she wanted to change. She held up the clothes and a pair of her dad’s size eleven tennis shoes.

  “Do you want to take a shower first? My house is right down the block—”

  He looked beyond her shoulder at the two-story structure behind her. “I thought this was your house.”

  “It’s my parents’ house.” She tilted her head. “What, did you think I was going to have you hose off out here?”

  He smiled, kicking her pulse into high gear. “I wasn’t sure.”

  She rolled her eyes and extended Charlie’s jeans and black tee shirt toward him, somewhat disappointed those muscles and the beautiful tattoo would be covered up. Mostly the muscles, though. She directed her gaze back to his.

  “So…shower?”

  “That sounds great.” He took the clothes with one hand and extended his other. “Wes Carter, by the way.”

  She laughed, reaching to accept his hand. “Tara Russell, and I was just—” Their palms connected and Tara lost her train of thought at the same moment her mouth went dry. “Um…”

  “Tara,” he said as if testing her name. “Nice to meet you.” Then he chuckled and glanced over his shoulder. “Sugar…not so nice, but you’re okay.”

  “Gee, thanks.” She didn’t want to let go of his warm hand, but pulled back just the same and jerked her head to the right. “My place is this way.”

  He looked down at his boxers and bare feet with a grimace. “How far is it?”

  “A block.” He looked indecisive, so Tara put her hands on her hips and scolded, “You know, I told you I’d be right back, no one asked you to strip.” Oh, but she was glad he had.

  His gaze snapped up as his ears turned red. “Listen—that stuff was starting to get really ripe—”

  “Easy, there, I’m only teasing. I completely understand.” Tara grinned and pointed to her own stained top. “Now, you coming or what? Everyone’s at the fair, anyway.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He leaned down for his clothes, giving her a nice view of—Tara hurriedly looked for Sugar so Wes wouldn’t see where her gaze had focused.

  “Any chance I can get a bag for these?” he asked.

  “Of course.” Tara got the bag, then called for Sugar as he stuffed his clothes inside. The dog bounded up, prancing with endless energy as she licked Tara’s leg, then turned to swipe her tongue across Wes’s foot.

  “All right, dog, enough with the tongue.”

  Tara caught her collar and clipped the leash on. “Sorry. I’d leave her here, she’s Charlie’s dog, but she’s a bit destructive if she’s left alone. Separation anxiety.”

  He stared at her like she was nuts. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “I wish I were,” she answered and led the way toward her house. “She’s a little…” she paused and leaned closer to whisper, “…psychotic.”

  “No, really?” His brows rose and though he kept a straight face, there was a smile in his voice. “Never woulda guessed.”

  The toe of her sandal caught on an uneven sidewalk crack, and Tara stumbled against him. Her breast brushed his arm before he grasped her elbow to steady her. “Whoa, you okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks.” She fought a strong urge to lean into him.

  The approaching rumble of a Harley brought her back to reality as they walked up to her front porch. The bike turned into her driveway and Tara unhooked Sugar, who raced to the motorcycle. Tara smiled not only at the dog’s antics, but because now that Charlie was here, she wouldn’t have to worry about Sugar slobbering on Wes anymore. The guy had obviously had enough.

  She cast a glance at Wes, who eyed her brother with suspicion. Tara’s brows rose in surprise; he hadn’t even met him yet.

  “Boyfriend?” Wes asked without looking away from Charlie.

  Now she grinned. “Brother.”

  Wes still didn’t relax. Especially when Charlie strode toward them with his chest puffed out, eyed Wes up and down, and asked in his gravelly voice, “What the hell is going on here?”

  Tara rolled her eyes. “Charlie, this is Wes Carter, he’s in town from…” She glanced at Wes to supply the information.

  “Denver.”

  “Wes, this is my brother, Charlie Russell.”

  They nodded at each other and shook hands, firmly, by the way they both leaned into it. Though he appeared a little more intense than usual, Charlie was being Charlie, and Wes…well, poor Wes stood there in his boxers and bare feet. Of course he had to act tough. Tara smiled pointedly at her brother as they released the handshake.

  “Wes needs to take a shower because Sugar puked ice cream and you-don’t-even-want-to-know-what-else all over him at the fair.”

  Charlie frowned in her direction, even as his nose wrinkled as if he could now smell the vomit. “You know she can’t have dairy.”

  “Tell her that—she stole Emma Frazier’s cone.”

  An odd look crossed Charlie’s face. Before Tara could wonder about it, he’d turned to Wes
. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Wes lifted his right shoulder, the one with the tattoo. “I don’t hold a grudge. Besides, your sister’s apologized enough, and borrowed me some of your clothes.”

  “That’s the least we can do,” Charlie said, his attention caught by the dragon. “Nice tatt.”

  Wes looked uncomfortable and almost seemed to angle it away from Charlie’s view. “Thanks—so are yours.”

  Tara watched Charlie lift his shirtsleeve to show off an eagle with the American Flag on its outstretched wing. She was so used to seeing his multitude of tattoos, she barely noticed them anymore, and couldn’t remember if it was new.

  “Our mom has a shop in downtown Green Bay,” Charlie said.

  “Nice work.” Wes glanced at Tara, his gaze shifting to her neck. “She do yours, too?”

  “Yep.”

  Charlie opened his mouth, but Tara cut him a quick look. “Are you done for the night?” When he nodded, she shoved the leash at him. “Good, then Sugar’s all yours. And you owe me five bucks for replacing Emma’s ice cream.”

  Charlie wound the leash around his hand and tightened it into a fist. He looked at Tara, then at Wes. “What’s going on tonight?”

  Oh, come on, not again, darn him. “Charlie—”

  “As soon as I wash your dog’s puke off, I’m going back to my motel,” Wes responded.

  Tara fought a wave of disappointment. Stupid brother. She wanted to wrap that leash around his neck and pull hard. Instead, she acted as if everything was just fine. “And I’m going back to watch the fireworks.”

  “Are you meeting Roger, or any of the girls?”

  Tara really wanted to kill him now, making it sound like Roger was more than just a friend. “Mic and Tracy are in Chicago this weekend, and Roger had a date. I guess my consolation prize would be you, dear brother, you wanna come?” she asked, her voice full of honey.

  He glanced toward where Sugar circled his bike, nose to the ground, then looked at Tara with suspicion. “You know she chases the fireworks.”

  Tara gave him a tight smile. “Yeah…oh, well. It’ll be nice having the blanket all to myself. Good night, Charles.” She didn’t wait for him to acknowledge her dismissal as she turned to unlock her door.