Bringing Home the Bachelor

Either that, or the goggles were distorting her eyes. Just like that, Billy felt the way he had when he’d been introduced to her at Ben and Josey’s wedding—tongue-tied, unsure of what to do next.

Uncertainty was not a feeling he was comfortable with, especially not when it was stomping on some good old-fashioned temptation. So he forced himself to turn away from her and do the one thing he was always comfortable doing.

He got back to work.

Five

Jenny hadn’t slept much. Her ears still burned where Billy had touched her with the barest hint of pressure. She couldn’t get past how gentle his touch had been—or how much it had affected her. She’d have expected a man like him to be all rough, very tumble. But soft, tender caresses? Coupled with the heated looks he kept giving her?

No amount of tossing and turning in her bed had let her sleep.

“Billy said that he’s going to let me help weld the frame,” Seth repeated for the fourth time that morning.

Yawning, she turned the final corner, looking for Billy’s bike. It wasn’t in the parking lot, which left her feeling vaguely disappointed, but then Seth said, “That’s his truck!”

Maybe it was. And it was parked right next to her spot.

She rolled up and came to a stop before she looked in the cab. Well, tried to, anyway. The truck sat a good two feet above her. Black, of course. She expected nothing less from Billy Bolton.

“Morning,” Billy said as he rounded his truck and opened her door for her.

The gentlemanly act threw her for another loop, but if he was insulted that she sat there staring at him in the dawning morning, he didn’t show it.

“Hey, where’s your bike?” Seth got out of the car.

“Had to bring pipe,” Billy said as he closed Jenny’s door behind her, turned and opened up the passenger door of his truck. “Brought you some tea.”

“Really?” She caught herself. “I mean, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, handing her a cup from a fancy coffeehouse she couldn’t afford.

This time, Jenny’s fingers had to linger over his, not the other way around. This time, she was the one who was doing the touching. This time, she let herself feel the span of his fingers. They were thick, but long. Perfectly balanced for their size.

Just like Billy.

She needed to say something—anything—to extricate herself from this situation. “How much do I owe you?”

It was hard to make out his features in the early-morning light, but she thought he raised an eyebrow at her—the same look he’d given her when she’d caught him stripping off his shirt in front of her class. “You don’t owe me anything, Jenny.”

“What do you need pipe for? I thought we cut the pipe for the frame last night? Aren’t we going to weld it?”

She pulled her hand—and the tea—away from Billy and walked away from the narrow space between their vehicles.

On the one hand, Jenny was thankful for Seth’s interruption. He was keeping her from doing something completely stupid, like continually touching Billy Bolton. Because that would be bad. Somehow.

On the other, she wanted to strangle her boy. Things with Billy had such interesting potential—potential that was always interrupted by a teenager or a bike. Yes, she was pitifully out of practice at flirting, but even an old pro would find it challenging in this situation.

“Whoa. We might get to welding after school today—if your mother says it’s okay.” As he opened the gate on the truck, Billy looked at her for approval.

“As long as he’s got all the safety gear,” Jenny replied, taking a sip of her tea. Lightly sweetened black tea. Still warm enough to be hot. Perfect, she thought with a satisfied sigh.

“But everyone else gets a crack at cutting pipe, too. Bobby says it’ll look good for the camera. So the rest of the kids get to cut junk pipe. And you,” he added, pointing a finger at Seth, “get to carry it all to the shop. Get started.”

“Me? Why?”

“This is the grunt work, kid. And you are the grunt.”

Jenny managed not to laugh at this keen observation. Mumbling under his breath about how this totally wasn’t fair, Seth hauled out a few lengths of pipe and began carrying them to the shop. He dropped one, then another. Juggling the remaining pipe, he tried to kick the pipes on the ground, but only succeeded in stubbing his toe.

“Let him handle it,” Billy said, close to her ear as his massive hand settled on her shoulder and pulled her back—gently—toward the truck.

Too late, she realized she’d gasped, although she would have been hard-pressed to say if her response was out of concern for Seth or because of the sudden pressure of Billy’s touch.

She wanted to squirm—this was different than the last time he’d held her back. Instead of the middle of the well-lit shop, with a camera recording their every move, she was alone with Billy in the dark.

She tensed. Would he press her against the truck’s side, all of those tattooed muscles giving her no place to go? Would he take a kiss from her—or something more? Would she let him?

Good girls didn’t let bad boys take those kisses, and Jenny had spent the past fourteen years being a good girl. Through hard work and dedication, she’d become a respectable woman—not someone who chased rich bad boys.

So why did she want him to kiss her so much?

Darn it all, he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he trailed his hand down her back—which still made her insides quiver, especially when his hand traced the curve of her hips, just above her bottom.

God, she needed to say something. Anything.

“I...” Then she looked up, her gaze meeting Billy’s.

His face was only a few inches from hers, and the look in his eyes melted the part of her brain that was trying to engage in polite conversation.

Billy grinned. Not a full-on display of teeth, just the corners of his mouth moving up in unison, but he looked as if he’d discovered the cookie jar and was about to stick his hand into it.

“This is the part,” he said, his voice rumbling out of his broad chest as he reached up and smoothed her hair away from her face, “where you threaten to feed me to the coyotes.”

Ah. Yes, that was her line. But she was powerless to say that, much less anything else. All she could think was, dance with me. Dance with me and make it worth it.

Then the sound of metal clanging on metal and what was most likely an inappropriate curse word muttered by her son snapped her out of her stupor. Seth was still about, after all. It wouldn’t do to have him see his mother and this man making googly eyes at each other.

She pulled away. It took more effort than she thought it would.

“How you doing?” Billy called out, looking none the worse for wear.

“This is stupid,” came the completely Seth-like response.

“You don’t have to haul metal,” Billy responded, still looking completely unflustered. “You also don’t have to help with the welding. Your call, kid.”

Seth stomped up to the truck, gave Billy the dirty look that was all-too-familiar to Jenny, and grabbed another couple of pipes.

“I carried metal when I was your age,” Billy called out after him. “Builds character.”