Come Closer, Cowboy

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, her expression sad. “I thought the separation might do us some good—”

“Why?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I think you know why.”

“We had sex, Mallory. Lots of friends do. It didn’t mean anything.” Gunner thought he saw her flinch. He could’ve phrased that better. “Okay, maybe it was stupid. You were worried about losing the Renegade. I was worried about you... We were both a little drunk. Are we going to let a brief lapse in judgment ruin our friendship?”

She stared down at her soda. “Well, we can’t very well undo it, can we?”

“No, but we can move past—” A sickening thought occurred to him, one he hadn’t considered before now. “Do you think I took advantage of you?”

Her eyes widened. “No.”

“I didn’t think you were that drunk.”

“I wasn’t... I—” She sighed. “That never even crossed my mind. Jesus. It goes both ways. Do you think I took advantage of you?”

Gunner chuckled. “Yeah, and I hated every minute of it.”

She didn’t crack a smile. Just muttered a curse when she spilled some soda.

“We can’t fix this if you won’t talk to me,” he said, watching her scrub the bar as if her life depended on stripping off the varnish.

“Talk? You’d rather go to the ER.”

Not completely true. He’d told her a few things he hadn’t admitted to anyone else. “This is different,” he said, and she finally looked at him again. “Our friendship is on the line.”

A slight smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I live here now. You’ll find another bar in Valencia or Hollywood. This thing between us—this friendship—is bound to fizzle out. You know that as well as I do.”

Gunner felt as if she’d stuck a knife in his chest. Guess he sucked at being a friend because that’s not how he saw it. “Yep. You’re right.” He glanced at his watch. He was supposed to meet Ben in two hours.

“I was embarrassed,” Mallory said softly. “That’s why I stopped returning your calls.” She’d quit attacking the varnish but she still had trouble meeting his eyes.

“Embarrassed? With me?”

“Yes you,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “Especially you. Of all the guys I could’ve...” Pressing her lips together, she looked away.

“Go on,” Gunner said. “Could’ve what?”

“Messed up with.”

He didn’t get it. “Look, if you’re waiting for me to say I regret what happened, you can forget it. We had sex...pretty damn great sex as I recall.” He watched her nibble her lower lip and his body tensed. “The truth is, I wanted you,” he said. “I still want you.”

Mallory’s mouth opened and closed without her making a sound. She just stared at him, and damned if he could tell what she was thinking.

“But if you feel sex and friendship can’t mix, then...” He cleared his throat. “We’ll stay friends, while I lick my wounds in private.”

She smiled.

“I’m glad my suffering can bring you some amusement.”

“Ah. Poor Gunner.” She dropped the towel on the bar and walked around to join him.

His heart started pounding...until she strolled right past him. He turned to see where she was going and noticed a guy peering in the window and pointing to the door. Mallory opened it just enough to tell him to come back at six.

Seeing her in her old jeans with the tear just above her right knee filled Gunner with an odd sort of relief. “No daytime hours?”

“Not for now. Maybe later, but only on weekends. I’ll check with Sadie to see what she thinks. She used to open at four before she became mayor.”

Just as Mallory was about to slip behind the bar, he caught her arm.

She stared at his hand, then into his eyes.

“Friends, right?”

“Yes.” She nodded warily. “Friends.”

“With or without sex?”

She just sighed and looked at him as if he had the attention span of a five-year-old.

Gunner smiled. “Okay,” he said, releasing her arm and offering his hand. “No sex.”

Her suspicious look might’ve been insulting if it hadn’t been warranted. The second she grasped his hand he tugged her into his arms. He felt her stiffen when he brushed a kiss across her mouth. A second later she relaxed and moved her hands to his shoulders, then slid her fingers into his hair.

She felt so good against him, warm and soft and real. He’d imagined this every night he’d been stuck in Argentina. Every night except one. After the sixth day of unreturned calls, he’d gotten stinking drunk and blotted out the world. And paid for it the next day.

Mallory stirred in his arms and parted her lips. Their tongues touched. A soft helpless moan came from the back of her throat, lighting a fire in his belly that tested his self-control.

Mallory moved against him. All her sweet womanly curves hit him in all the right places. If he got any harder he was going to explode.

A firm shove to the chest sent him back a step. He lowered his arms to his side and met her dark green eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” She glared back. “We just agreed to be friends, no sex.”

“Kissing isn’t sex.”

She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling. Gunner tried not to stare. Or think about the velvety texture of her skin. Or how sweet she’d tasted.

God, he wanted her.

“Mallory...”

“Don’t say another word.” She patted her pockets, glanced around until she found her keys behind the bar. “You need to leave. I have things to do.”

“I can help you move.”

“No.” She rushed past him and unlocked the door. “Thank you.”