A Fair to Remember Page 3

  “Don’t forget, I’m only four houses down,” he said. Tara clenched her jaw until she heard the Harley roar to life.

  “What the…?”

  Wes’ disbelieving question made her turn around to find him staring after her brother. Sugar sat on the front of the bike in Charlie’s lap as he peered around her big head and drove down the street. Tara shook her head and flipped on the living room and porch lights.

  “I told you, she’s psychotic.”

  In the added light, Wes’s muscled back compared favorably with his bare chest. Tara frowned as she noticed a pink puckered circle of skin to the left of his spine, just above his boxer’s waistband, but he turned before she could figure out exactly what it was. She stepped inside so he wouldn’t notice she’d been staring.

  He walked past her. “Psychotic is an understatement.”

  She shut the door and turned around to get a closer look at the scar on his back. But as she wondered what’d happened, he stood with his back to the wall, checking out her house. There wasn’t much to see: living room, kitchen, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms down the hall. It was small, but it was hers, which made it perfect. Glad she’d cleaned that morning, she led him though the living room and down the hall.

  “You can use this bathroom; there are towels under the sink,” she told him after opening the door and then continuing toward her room. “I’ve gotta get this thing off.”

  “Thanks.”

  She plucked at her shirt, wrinkling her nose. She lifted the hem as she walked, pulling it over her head before she realized she hadn’t heard the bathroom door click shut behind her. Heart pounding, she glanced over her shoulder in time to see the door close. Relief left a tingle in her veins. What had she expected, that he’d be right there, ready to jump her?

  No, he seemed like an all-around nice guy, and besides, Charlie had been about as subtle as a Harley.

  Still, she locked her bedroom door before going into her private bathroom to wash up and change—one didn’t have to be completely stupid. She replaced her black tank with a more conservative white one and a thin red sweater, her shorts with a pair of faded jeans, and kept the same sandals. After brushing her hair, she decided to leave it down, then dabbed on some perfume just in case.

  The shower was still on when she walked down the hall past the guest bathroom, so she retrieved the bag of clothes Wes had left on the porch and headed for the basement. The phone rang on her way back through the kitchen and she picked up the cordless handset.

  “Why hasn’t he left yet?” her brother demanded when she answered.

  “Geez, Charlie, he’s still in the shower.”

  “He better be out of there in five minutes.”

  She drew in a deep, controlled breath. “This is exactly the reason I moved out.”

  “You don’t even know who this guy is, Tara.”

  “I’d like the chance to find out, at least. I’m not sixteen, and I’m not stupid.”

  I’m not Annabel. She didn’t say it, but from the silence on Charlie’s end, she knew their sister was on his mind, too. Tara felt bad, she missed her like hell, too, but she was tired of paying for Annabel’s mistakes.

  “Did you know Lauren started dating someone?” Charlie asked abruptly.

  His wounded tone caught her off guard. “Not until I ran into her earlier tonight, why?”

  “No reason.” But the casual brush-off came a beat too late. Sympathy melted Tara’s resentment as she realized Charlie liked Lauren. No wonder he’d been wearing his hair shorter the past couple months.

  “Charlie—”

  “Like I said, five minutes.”

  He hung up on her, and she sighed as she continued downstairs to treat the ketchup and mustard stains on Wes’ white dress shirt. She set it to soak before starting a load with her black tank and his dark pants and suit jacket. The tags instructed dry clean only, but no way would that cut it. If she was careful, it’d be fine.

  His wallet and car rental keys had been in his pants pocket, so she picked them up to take upstairs with her. Curiosity gnawed at her, but she resisted snooping until she reached the top of the stairs. Just a peek—to see how old he was. She opened the wallet, scanned his driver’s license quick, then flipped it closed again, feeling like a nosey jerk.

  Westin Carter was thirty-one, lived in Denver as he’d said, and he was an organ donor. Picturing him in the suit, that didn’t surprise her. But the tattooed, boxer-clad hottie didn’t seem the type to put an orange sticker on his license.

  Tara frowned at herself. She was doing the same thing he’d done earlier—judging him by his outward appearance when she knew better than anyone that the surface could conceal a lot. He’d pointed out she dressed like a wild woman so she must be one, but he didn’t know she’d only been in costume, or the fact that she’d probably never find the guts to follow through in real life. Letting a stranger take a shower in her home was the craziest thing she’d done in her unexciting life.

  She closed the basement door, then jumped at the sight of Wes striding down the hall, so tall and handsome, dressed in her brother’s tee shirt and jeans. She gave him a casual once over, thinking the clothes looked so much better on Wes.

  “Everything fit okay?” she asked while handing over his personal items with a slightly shaky hand. Guilt for snooping or nervousness over her strong attraction to the man? Either way, she attempted to ignore both.

  He pocketed the items and lifted a shoulder. “They’re a little snug, but not uncomfortable.”

  And that’s why they looked better on Wes.

  Chapter 4

  How was she sexier in jeans and a cover-all, zip-up sweater than shorts and a skimpy tank top? Wes wondered. Maybe because now she looked more like the kind of woman he’d decided he should date, than the untamed biker chic that turned him on.

  Either way, it was no good. He knew what the red sweater concealed, and that small rose tattoo on her neck still peeked out from under the collar despite the curtain of black hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders. It looked so silky smooth he wanted to step over there and—

  He cleared his throat. “I should get going.”

  She nodded, turning to swipe up a towel off the counter and hang it on the oven door. “I put your clothes in the wash. If you stop by in the morning, they’ll be good as new.”

  He opened his mouth to thank her, but then remembered something. “That suit is dry clean.” She spun back around and put her hand on her hip in a gesture that he recognized from when she’d scolded the dog earlier. Another bad sign—that he remembered it.

  “What, you think I don’t know how to clean anything but leather?”

  Her defensiveness revealed his earlier comment had bothered her, and now he felt bad. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Your suit will be fine,” she assured him.

  “Okay…I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”

  “Yep.”

  He started for the door, only to find himself pausing before he reached it. “Are you going back to the fair now?”

  “I have a few things to do here first.” She blinked at him with those brown eyes. “Why?”

  Because he wanted to spend more time with her, and if he walked her back, he might try to get an invitation to share her blanket for the fireworks. Not a good idea.

  “Just wondering,” he said. He made it as far as the porch on his second attempt to leave. As the fresh night air whispered across his bare arms and fireflies blinked in her front yard, he turned back around. “It’s almost dark, you should call your brother to walk with you.”

  She stood inside the door. “It’s only a few blocks, it’s no big deal.”

  Wes shifted forward to brace a hand against the doorframe. “So this town is one hundred percent crime free?” He caught the faint scent of perfume and backed up again.

  “No, but I happen to have a few moves,” she joked with a small smile. “You want to see ‘em?”

  He gave a sh
ort laugh, holding up a hand while his mind went in a completely different, sensual direction. “No, that’s all right. Call your brother.”

  She rolled her eyes at his concern. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised his brows.

  Finally, she huffed, “Okay, fine, I’ll call him.”

  “Thank you.” Before giving in to any of the crazy ideas floating around in his head, he stepped off the porch and didn’t look back.

  Down the block near her family’s house, he caught movement from the corner of his eye and saw her brother get up off the porch to walk toward him. Wes tensed with the realization that the guy had been watching for him. At least this time he wasn’t at a disadvantage in boxers and bare feet. He stopped, but waited for Charlie to open the conversation.

  “I’m only going to say this once. Stay away from my sister.”

  He’d planned on doing exactly that, but Charlie’s challenging tone set Wes straight on the offensive. “It’s really none of your business.”

  Charlie stepped closer. Wes clenched his fists, automatically sizing up his opponent to find Charlie equally prepared. Then the guy glanced at Wes’s arm. “Your tatt there says it is. I’ve seen it before at a bike rally in Detroit, and you guys are bad news.”

  Wes’s anger dissipated, replaced by bitterness that even in small-town America he couldn’t escape his past. He nodded his agreement with Charlie’s statement. “They are, which is why I got the hell out about eight years ago and moved to Denver.”

  Charlie didn’t look convinced.

  Wes sighed with resignation and wished he’d kept the dog-puke shirt on earlier. “Look, man, I don’t want any trouble. Tara only helped out ‘cuz of your dog. She’s nice and all, but not really my type.”

  Not anymore.

  Charlie eyed him for a long moment before he backed off. “Just so we’re clear.”

  “We’re clear,” Wes assured him. Crystal.

  Wes picked up his pace. A few more houses down, he noticed a couple guys in lawn chairs, surrounded by a dozen or more beer cans, with rap music blaring from inside the garage. Glancing back toward Tara’s house, he realized she’d walk right past before turning toward the fairgrounds. He paused. This was her neighborhood, she probably knew the guys…hell, for all he knew, she might even join them.

  Still, his conscience wouldn’t let him leave without knowing she’d called her brother as she’d agreed. His instincts proved spot-on when about five minutes later when she walked past her parents’ house without pause. The overprotective Charlie didn’t come out to meet her, either.

  Away from the air conditioning of her home, he saw she’d unzipped the red sweater, revealing a white tank underneath. Wes waited across the road, thinking he’d follow until she reached the fair, to make sure she remained safe while avoiding temptation and maintaining a clear head at a safe distance.

  Across the road, one of the guys by the garage looked over his shoulder, then nudged the other to turn around.

  “Hey, baby doll,” the blond one called out. “Bring that blanket on over here.”

  He got to his feet while grinning at his buddy. Tara simply clutched her blanket closer and walked faster while keeping her gaze focused straight ahead. Wes scoffed under his breath. Nice moves, independent idiot.

  Blondie started toward her, and Wes straightened from where he’d been leaning against the tree. Son of a bitch little punks. He didn’t care if she was tough enough to handle herself, he wasn’t taking any chances.

  “What’s the rush, babe?”

  Wes crossed the street and beat the guy to Tara’s side by about five feet. She jumped a foot when he put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her against his side. “Sorry I’m late.”

  He planted a kiss on her surprised mouth, ignored the urge to align his body to her curves and dive in for more, and turned his full attention to the creep on the lawn. “We’re on our way to the fireworks, that’s the rush.”

  Blondie backed off, holding his hands up in front of him. Smart punk. Wes kept hold of Tara and urged her forward. After a few yards, she tried to shake his arm off. “What was that?”

  Wes held on. “It’s called saving your butt, Sugar,” he said in her ear. “You’re welcome.”

  “My butt didn’t need saving, Sugar.”

  “They’re half drunk,” he said with exasperation. “And you were supposed to call your brother.”

  “He didn’t answer.”

  Because he’d been outside, protecting her from the danger of Wes. There was irony for you.

  “Besides,” she added, “they’re all talk. I ignore them, and they eventually leave me alone.”

  Wes’s step faltered. He swung her around as renewed anger pulsed through him. “This happens often?”

  She barely met his gaze before looking past his shoulder. “They’ve never done more than shoot their mouths off. It’s no big deal.”

  He forced his grip to remain light on her arms. “You ever tell your brother?”

  She shook her head, and Wes wanted to shake her.

  “Some day they’re gonna step over the line,” he predicted.

  He’d seen it often when he was younger. Left unchecked, guys like that got a little braver each time, went a little farther until the next step came naturally to them. But the thought of one of them putting a hand on her brought the darkness deep inside Wes boiling to the surface. He released her to spin around in the direction they’d come from.

  When he crossed onto the lawn, Tara caught his arm from behind. “What are you doing?”

  He jerked free. “Making sure that day never comes.”

  “Wes—”

  The rap music covered their approach. About the time the blond guy saw Wes, he kicked the chair out from underneath the dark-haired one. One quick step and Wes had him pinned to the ground with his foot.

  He intended to simply scare them enough to make his warning stick in their heads after the booze wore off, but then Blondie started forward, his hands balanced in front of him. Behind him, Tara gasped at the same time Wes caught a flash of steel and recognized the danger. When the guy swung at Wes with the knife, Wes ducked with an inch to spare, grabbed the hand with the weapon, and twisted his wrist until he dropped the weapon.

  Blondie fell to his knees with a gasp of pain, but Wes didn’t let go yet. “You two are going to leave the lady alone from now on—got it? Don’t talk to her, don’t even look at her. Understand?”

  The one pinned to the ground nodded fast, his eyes bulging in his face. Wes let up a little with his foot and looked at the one on his knees. He hadn’t answered yet, so Wes applied more pressure to his wrist. The guy cried out.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you,” Wes growled.

  “We’ll leave her alone,” he gasped.

  “Make sure all your friends get the message. I won’t be so nice the next time.”

  They both nodded quick enough to satisfy him, so he released them, stooped to get the knife, and stepped away. His body hummed with adrenaline, and he took a deep breath to calm down, amazed at how quick it all came back.

  He saw Tara standing a few feet away, looking shocked. Her gaze shifted from the guys picking themselves off the ground to Wes as he folded the switch blade and tucked it in his pocket. She backed up, then turned and hurried down the sidewalk, the blanket swinging from one hand, the sides of her red sweater flapping outward with each step.

  Wes jogged after her, not knowing what to say, feeling bad that he’d frightened her. He kinda scared himself now that he thought about it, but on the plus side, they should leave her alone.

  “He had a knife,” he heard her say as he drew alongside. She shot him a sideways look from wide brown eyes, and he forgot what he was going to say. Two steps later, she asked, “Who are you?”

  He knew who he wanted to be, and was afraid of who he used to be, but it wasn’t as if he could get into all that with her, so he ignored the question. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

 
She stopped walking. “You scared them, is what you did.”

  “That was the point. You shouldn’t have to deal with jerks like that…” He trailed off at the expression of awe on her face. It dawned on him she wasn’t scared, she was impressed. Oh, man, what had he done?

  “You’re a nice guy, Westin Carter.”

  When she stepped toward him with a smile, Wes held up his hands and backed up. “Listen, I only meant to warn them. Don’t make me out to be a hero just because I did what was necessary after he pulled the knife.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She strolled past with her smile firmly in place. “You’ve got a good track record so far.”

  “Don’t bet on it,” he muttered as they approached the fair grounds. Okay, she was back safe in the company of other people. Time for him to go. His step slowed, but she kept walking and talking, raising her voice above the carnival music and hundreds of people having fun.

  “You took the Sugar incident better than anyone I can imagine, you handled Charlie’s porch inquisition just fine, and then you rescued me from my habitual harassers. Three outta three qualifies for hero status in my book.”

  “Tara—”

  She laughed. “A bona-fide knight in shining armor.”

  Wes planted his feet. “Tara.”

  She turned around, a good five strides in front of him. “Relax, I’m just teasing you.” When he didn’t move, she asked, “What? Aren’t you coming?”

  She motioned toward the baseball field with her head, her black hair shimmering in the flashing lights of the Ferris wheel behind her. Someone bumped into him from behind, then apologized when Wes glanced around with a frown. Realizing he’d have to yell to be heard above the noise, Wes moved closer to Tara, just not too close.

  “I think I’m gonna go.”

  Her brows arched high above those beautiful brown eyes. “You won’t stay for the fireworks?”

  He shifted his gaze again, looking anywhere but at her. If he looked at her, he’d end up staying, and he’d already determined that wasn’t a good idea. Heck, even her brother Charlie knew that.