A Fair to Remember Read online

  Her head jerked to the right all of a sudden, then she quickly faced him and put a hand on his arm, her brown eyes full of dismay. “I’m sorry.”

  Wes frowned in confusion, but she’d already turned back to wave at an older man and woman who made their way toward them. When Wes saw Tara’s look-a-like, only twenty-some years older, he knew they had to be her parents. He took in her mother’s smooth skin and youthful figure. Talk about growing old gracefully; lucky Tara.

  His gaze shifted. Her father was a little taller than Wes, a lot bulkier, and had twice as many tattoos as his son. A sudden jolt of nervousness surprised him.

  Tara had already greeted them and now Wes felt their attention zero in on him. Her mother offered a polite smile, which he returned, but once he met her father’s eyes, he understood the reason for Tara’s strange apology. Without saying a single word, the man radiated intimidation. Wes stood a little straighter as Tara looked at him.

  “Wes, this is my mom, Jackie, and my dad, Kurt. Mom, Dad, this is Wes Carter.”

  Kurt Russell extended his hand. “Carter…Tara’s never mentioned you before.”

  Wes cautiously accepted the man’s handshake. “We’ve just met.”

  “He’s visiting from Denver,” Tara said at the same time. Kurt’s grip threatened to crush Wes’s hand, and given her brother’s reaction to his tatt, he was relieved Charlie’s borrowed shirt covered his artwork for the most part.

  “What brings you to town?” Kurt asked.

  Once his hand was free, Wes dropped it to his side instead of shaking and flexing his fingers to make sure they weren’t broken. “I’m checking out the area.”

  Kurt’s eyes narrowed as they shifted to his daughter, then back to Wes. “You thinking of moving here?”

  “I’m considering relocating my business here, yes,” Wes explained, resisting the urge to look at Tara. Actually, he’d already made the decision, but felt an instinctive need to exercise caution at this moment.

  Kurt seemed to puff up and grow another inch. “What kind of business you in, son?”

  Before Wes could answer, Tara’s mother elbowed her husband in the side. “Knock it off, Kurt.” As Kurt shifted his feet, Jackie smiled at Wes and shook his hand with a firm grip of her own. “It’s nice to meet you, Wes. Welcome to Redemption, and I hope you like it here.”

  “Thank you, I do so far.” This time he glanced at Tara without even meaning to. The moment he saw her nervous smile, he redirected his attention, but unfortunately, her father had caught the slip-up and now looked ready to deck him.

  “Are you two staying for the band?” Tara asked her parents in a rushed tone. “I saw them last week at Rowdy’s—they’re really good.”

  Her mother linked her arm with Kurt’s. “Probably. We’re meeting the rest of the gang to finalize the details of next weekend’s bike rally. Hey—were you here for the excitement earlier?”

  Tara shook her head, and her mom explained, “Lauren Frazier’s boy, Max, almost fell from the top of the Ferris wheel.”

  “Oh my God, is he okay?” Tara exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “Caleb Hunter—you remember Rosalee’s son?—he climbed up and caught him until they could get the fire truck over there. Saved his life.”

  “Wow, thank God. I’ll have to call Lauren. I thought he looked familiar earlier, but didn’t make the connection—it was so long ago that he left town,” Tara said.

  “I always liked Rosalee’s son,” her father stated. “He served in the military.”

  Wes’ gaze shifted to meet Kurt’s stone-cold challenging eyes. The man’s message was clear—Wes wasn’t good enough for his daughter.

  Tara tugged Wes’s arm as she began to back away. “Well, you kids have fun,” she joked, though her voice was anxious. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Jackie nodded, Kurt glared, and Wes barely had time to say, “Nice to meet you,” before Tara dragged him off the fair grounds. He felt daggers plunging between his shoulder blades and fought a strong urge to hunch and duck. As it was, he kept his chin level, resisted looking back, and decided he’d be pressing his luck on more than one level if he let Tara keep touching him.

  Gently pulling free of her iron grip, he admonished, “Ease up, there, Sugar.”

  Her step slowed, and Wes drew alongside instead of being pulled one step behind. He bent forward to see her face as they walked, but she stared straight ahead instead of smiling at his dog joke. He tried again, making sure to inject more humor in his voice as he asked, “Sooo…if Charlie’s overprotective, what does that make your dad?”

  “A prison guard,” she shot back. “Maximum security.” Then he heard her heave a sigh now that the noise of the fair were behind them. “Sorry.”

  “You are a chronic apologizer,” Wes said.

  She smiled briefly. “I know, I can’t help it…but I’m sorry he was such a—”

  “There you go again.” He shook his head. “It’s okay, you know. It’s kinda his job.”

  He took two steps before he realized she’d stopped and now stood glaring at him. “His job to do what—treat me like one of the inmates where he works?”

  “You mean prison guard wasn’t just an analogy?”

  She started walking again, faster than before. “No, he really is a prison guard—at work and at home. So it may be easy for you to look at it and think it’s nice or sweet or whatever the heck you think it is, but try living it.”

  Wes’s brows rose. Whoa, someone had a short fuse on this subject. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, wondering why he’d defended her father when he’d been on the receiving end of the interrogation. After a quick glance around, Wes extended his stride to catch up to her.

  “He’d like to believe I’m still a virgin,” she continued. “My God, I’m twenty-eight years old, and I have every right to my own life without him or Charlie butting their noses in where they’re not wanted! If I was smart I would’ve moved out of state instead of just down the block…idiot.”

  Wes hunched his shoulders and spoke without giving himself a chance to rationalize why it would be smarter to shut up. “My father was shot before I was old enough to have any memories of him, and my mom was too busy working to have time to care about what I did, or who I did it with.”

  He felt her gaze on him and glanced over as they turned onto her block. Lifting a shoulder to shrug off the shocked sympathy in her expression, he added, “All I’m saying is, the grass isn’t always greener.”

  She averted her head and walked in silence. Wes followed, replaying the conversation in his head. By the second time, he realized what a preachy jerk he sounded like. Man, had things ever changed. Never mind that he’d just met this woman tonight, but he had no business dumping his lousy childhood on her and in effect chastising her for venting frustration that she had every right to feel.

  She was right, he hadn’t lived it and couldn’t possibly compare it to his own experiences as if his were so much worse that she should quit whining. Maybe her bold spirit did feel imprisoned by the protection her family obviously forced upon her.

  They neared her porch, and as she dug her keys from her pocket, Wes caught her arm to turn her around. He quickly let go and shoved his hands in his front pockets because that one touch made him want so much more.

  “I guess it’s my turn to apologize…I shouldn’t have said that, and I’m sorry.”

  Her keys jangled in her hand but she avoided his gaze. “Actually, you’re right.”

  “No, I was wrong to suggest that your feelings aren’t valid—you have every right to them and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  A smile lifted the corner of her lips, and now she gave him a quizzical look.

  “What?” he asked, wary of her expression as she looked at him as if trying to see inside him. He felt exposed, more naked than when he’d stood here two hours ago in only his boxers.

  “Seriously…who are you?” she asked. He frowned, but she continued before he could figure out the question. “Men don’t talk like that—at least not the men I know.”

  He still didn’t get it. “I only meant it wasn’t fair of me to act as if my life was so much worse than yours, therefore implying you have nothing to complain about.”

  Her smile widened. “See, that’s what I mean.”

  “What?” he asked with exasperation. “A guy can’t apologize?”

  “Of course you can, but the fact that you even feel a need to is what’s so impressive. I know for a fact it takes years of therapy for some men to recognize women have feelings that they don’t consider hormonal or irrational, yet you’re worried about invalidating mine.”

  “Oh, God,” he groaned. “Just forget it.”

  “Hold on…so, now you’re taking it back?” She crossed her arms over her chest, but a hint of a smile played with the corners of her mouth.

  Wes had a feeling there was no arguing with her. He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, reigning in his own smile. “No, I’m not—but this conversation is officially over.”

  “Ha!” She pointed a finger at him. “I knew you were a nice guy.”

  He drew a deep breath. He worked at being the nice guy, but her saying it made him uncomfortable because he knew too many things he had to make up for yet. “I’m not that nice.”

  “Sure you are.” Her words were casual, but she said them with such conviction that his chest tightened, and his heart pounded faster.

  He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Tara—a lot you don’t want to know about—”

  He about choked on his words when she stepped right into his personal space and laid her hands on his chest. “I know all I need to know right now.”

  He couldn’t breathe. Then, God help him, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his as he sucked in a breath. Her lips were soft and warm, her body so close that the vanilla scent he’d caught a whiff of earlier now invaded his senses. His hands clenched in his pockets as desire rocked him to the core.

  It took everything he had to grasp her shoulders to push her away, and even then, he waited an extra second…one more…then pushed.

  Her eyes opened as he held her at arm’s length, and his grip tightened with the effort it took not to pull her back against him and kiss the living daylights out of her.

  “I can’t do this.” His voice was so low that he had to clear his throat.

  “Why not?”

  “Because, I…” There was a reason, a good reason, but staring into her confused eyes, he couldn’t remember it right now. He shook his head as he frowned. “I’m just not…”

  She swallowed, dropped her gaze and stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

  Wes closed his eyes against the mortification in her expression and raked a hand through his hair. He fisted his hand until pain radiated through his scalp, then dropped his arm to his side with a rough half- growl.

  “It’s not you, you’re very—” beautiful, and sexy, and God—he wanted her “—nice. And I had fun tonight, but…”

  She held up a hand, looking even more miserable, and he felt like a jerk. “You can stop right there,” she said. “Let’s just leave it at that. Goodnight, Westin.”

  She turned her back to him as she stepped onto the porch. He took a breath, but didn’t know what to say when she’d used his full name so formally. Backing away slowly, he waited until she unlocked and opened the door before turning onto the sidewalk.

  “Are you staying at the Bonnie Blue, or the Ryker’s Inn?”

  Her question stopped him cold. The tempting fantasy of Tara Russell showing up at his hotel room revved up his pulse all over again. Get a grip, Carter. Turning around, he asked, “Why?”

  He cringed at the suspicion in his tone, especially when he saw her stiffen.

  “I assume you want your suit back?”

  That’s right, he’d forgotten about his clothes. She was being nice while he’d immediately jumped to the wrong conclusions. His gaze fell to the scoop neck of her tank top and then jerked back to her face. “I’ll just stop by in the morning, if that’s okay.”

  “Fine.” She started to close her door.

  “Does it matter what time?”

  “Unless you want to join my family for a grill-Tara-as-she-pretends-to-enjoy-Sunday-breakfast, then I’d say anytime after eleven.” She slammed the door without waiting for a reply.

  Amazingly, family breakfast sounded quite nice to Wes—minus the grilling, of course.

  Chapter 7

  Tara glared at Charlie as she lifted her first steaming cup of coffee for a cautious sip. If only it were the last one of the morning, then she could be on the way home instead of having this conversation about Wes with her overbearing family. It didn’t matter anyway, he didn’t want her, but she wasn’t about to let them know that. She’d keep that hurt to herself.

  “Did you know he’s in a gang?” Charlie asked as if he’d been waiting for just the right moment to drop that little bomb.

  She gulped her coffee and burned her tongue.

  “A gang?” her dad roared.

  Even her mom paused.

  Charlie nodded as he spread jam on his toast. “From Detroit.”

  “He said that?” Tara demanded, trying hard not to let anyone know her mouth was on fire. “He actually came out and told you?” She took a long drink of cold orange juice.

  Charlie shrugged, confident in the support he had from their father. “He claims he left, but he’s still got the tatt, and you know what they say…”

  “He lives in Denver—I saw his driver’s license,” Tara argued, even as she pictured every intricate detail of the dragon on Wes’s shoulder. A gang tattoo.

  “You can take the boy out of the gang, but you can never really take the gang out of the boy,” her dad prophesized in a low tone.

  Tara thought about the way Wes had handled Kenny and Adam. She pictured the scar she’d glimpsed on his back and wondered if it was from a bullet. And if it was, fresh-looking as it’d been, maybe he hadn’t left the gang as he’d told Charlie.

  I’m not that nice…There’s a lot you don’t know about me…

  Tara shook off her doubt. No, she couldn’t be wrong about him. Or…was it that she didn’t want to be wrong?

  “I don’t want you seeing this guy again,” her father stated.

  She glanced at her mom, who usually stuck up for her but had kept quiet so far this morning. Jackie met her gaze. “We don’t want you getting mixed up with trouble, honey.”

  Her soft tone implied what none of them would ever say. Like Annabel.

  Tara fought frustration. She wasn’t Annabel and Wes wasn’t trouble. They’d met him for all of two minutes; they didn’t get to know him as she—

  She stopped that train of thought and reminded herself that she didn’t really know Wes that well, either, no matter what she felt when she was with him. Especially considering that all the while she’d tingled from what she thought was an undercurrent of sizzling, mutual attraction, he simply thought of her as ‘nice’. She’d felt like a complete idiot for throwing herself at him only to have him push her away.

  “He’s a lying piece of dirt,” Charlie muttered around a bite of bacon. “Telling me you aren’t his type but then I find out he went back to the fair with you.”

  Tara sat up straighter. “What?”

  Charlie drank half of his glass of milk before pointing his fork at her. “He told me you were ‘nice and all’, but not his type, then he goes and gets all cozy with you at the fireworks. I warned him once, next time I’m just going to bust his nose.”

  “There’s not going to be a next time,” her father stated, but Tara only half-listened as she suddenly wondered if ‘nice’ meant boring. Not his type? So, what was his type? By his own admittance, he’d pretty much done whatever he wanted growing up, with whomever he wanted, and now she found out he’d been in a gang. She supposed it wasn’t hard to see how a small-town girl like herself wouldn’t hold much appeal compared to the worldly women he must be used to.

  She wondered what he’d say if he knew she had her own Harley in her garage. Of course she rarely rode it anymore, but still…she had a Harley—that had to count for something, right? She could be worldly.

  “Did you hear me?”

  Tara flinched as her dad’s voice cut into her thoughts. “What?”

  “I said, I forbid you to see that man again.”

  Tara took a moment to process her dad’s edict. Then she carefully set her fork down and lowered her hand to her lap to clench her fingers in her napkin. This had gone far enough, them telling her what she could or could not do every time she turned around. She wasn’t some sixteen-year-old child to be locked away in a glass—

  I think it would be nice, knowing someone cares that much.

  Wes’s wistful words echoed in her head, and Tara took a deep breath, then another. Okay, fine. She’d give them the benefit of the doubt, the same as she would Wes’s past. One more calming breath, and she summoned a fairly natural feeling smile.

  “I love you, too, Dad.”

  They all stared at her as if she’d gone crazy, and when she considered what she planned to do, she figured they were probably right.

  ***

  Catching the edge of her inside door as Sugar pushed past, Tara jabbed the garage door opener, then tugged her top back into place. The zippered black leather vest went perfect with her dark hair and the tattoos that hadn’t begun to wear off yet—thanks to the baby powder she’d dusted on her arms after her shower. Due to the summer heat, she’d donned a short pair of cut-off jeans, but then wondered if her calf-high leather boots were too much and opted for barefoot with a fresh coat of burgundy polish on her toenails.

  It was ten-thirty, she’d sexed herself up as much as she dared between the clothes, a messy ponytail, and extra makeup, and now she had no time to lose taking her bike apart before Wes showed up for his suit that hung, pressed and bagged, in the house. Well, not completely apart, just enough to install the new shocks Charlie had picked up for her a couple months ago after he’d taken it for a ride to run the engine.