Rachel Gibson - Rescue Me

A dull pain thumped Sadie’s temples as the aunts bickered about hearing aids and evil dogs, but at least they’d moved off her lack of love life. For the moment, anyway.

Five more minutes, she told herself, and drained the last of her wine. She felt a warm hand on her bare shoulder and looked up past the end of her glass. Past a pair of pressed khaki pants, and blue dress shirt covering big shoulders. The collar was open around his wide neck, and she had to force herself to swallow the wine in her mouth. Her gaze continued over his square jaw and lips, to his nose, and into a pair of light green eyes.

“Sorry I’m late.” His deep, mellow voice put an end to all conversation.

Sadie put her glass on the table and stood. She didn’t know which she felt most. Shock or relief. Shock that he was actually at the wedding or relief that his unexpected appearance had put an end to her familial torture. All three aunts stared, wide-eyed, at the big hunk of hot male in front of them.

“I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Neither did I, but I guess I can’t let you leave town knowing I still owed you. We wouldn’t be square.” He let his own gaze travel down the length of her. Over her bare throat and her breasts pushed together and encased in tight taffeta. Past her hips and down her legs to her feet. “And I had to get a good look at your Bubble Yum dress.”

“What do you think?”

“About?” His gaze traveled back up her body to her eyes.

“The dress.”

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that tingled her spine, for no reason other than she liked the sound. “Like you’re going to a prom and need a date.”

“Funny, that’s how I feel.”

“Who’s your gentleman, Sadie Jo?”

She glanced over her shoulder and into the interested eyes of her three aunts. “This is Vince Haven. He’s in town visiting his aunt Luraleen Jinks.” She motioned to the three women staring back. “Vince, these are my aunts, Ivella, Nelma, and Bess.”

“You’re Luraleen’s nephew?” Ivella struggled to her feet. “She said you were comin’ to see her. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Vince.”

He moved around the table. “Please don’t get up, ma’am.” He bent over slightly and shook each aunt’s hand like his mama had raised him right. Gone was his five o’clock shadow, and his cheeks were smooth and tan.

“Who is Sadie Jo’s young man?” Nelma hollered.

“He’s not mine. He’s—”

“Luraleen’s nephew, Vince!” Bess answered close to Nelma’s deaf ear.

“I thought she said she liked women! Bless her heart!”

Sadie closed her eyes. Just kill me now. There was nothing wrong with being lesbian, but she just happened to be straight, and Nelma yelling that she liked women was as embarrassing as if she’d hollered that she liked men. It made her appear desperate. She opened her eyes and looked up into the dark, handsome face of the stranger in front of her, amusement adding a slight tilt to the corners of his mouth and creases to the corners of his eyes.

“Rescue me,” she said just above a whisper.

He stuck out his arm like he was used to rescuing women, and she threaded her hand between his elbow and ribs. Heat seeped through her palm and warmed her pulse. “It was nice to meet you, ladies.”

“A pleasure, Vince.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“He’s as big as Texas!”

Together the two of them moved down the hall to the ballroom, and Sadie said, “My aunts are a little crazy.”

“I know a little something about crazy aunts.”

Yes. He did. “Well, thank you for coming tonight. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t danced in so long, I’m not sure I remember how it’s done.”

“We certainly don’t have to dance.” She looked down at her cleavage, then back up into his profile. With his chiseled jaw and swarthy skin and dark hair, what struck her most about Vince was that he was all man. A ridiculously good-looking man. “In fact, I’m afraid to raise my arms.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to fall out of my dress.”

He smiled and glanced down at her out of the corners of his eyes. “I promise to catch anything that falls out.”

She laughed as his arm bumped hers, the brush of cotton and heat against her skin. “You’d rescue me twice in the same night?”

“It’d be tough, but I’d manage somehow.” They moved into the ballroom and walked into the middle of the crowded dance floor. Beneath the glittering prisms of the crystal chandeliers, he took one of her hands in his and placed his big palm in the curve of her waist. The band played a slow song by Brad Paisley about little memories, and she slowly slid her other hand up his chest, over the hard planes and ridges, to his shoulder. Everything in her dress stayed inside, and he pulled her close, close enough that she felt the heat of his big chest, but not so close that they touched.

“But if you have to rescue me twice in one night, we won’t be square,” she said just above the music, and his gaze slid to her lips. “I’d owe you before I leave town.”

“I’m sure you can think of something.”

How? She didn’t know anything about him. Other than his aunt was crazy Luraleen Jinks, he was from Washington, and he drove a big Ford. “I’m not going to wash your truck.”

He chuckled. “We could probably figure out something more fun for you to wash than my truck.”

She’d set herself up for that one, but hadn’t her mind been running down the same track since the first or second time she’d seen him? On the side of the highway? Her window framing his package? She purposely changed the subject. “How do you like Lovett so far?”

“I haven’t seen that much in the daylight.” He smelled like cool night air and crisp cotton, and his breath brushed the left side of her temple when he spoke. “So it’s hard to say. It seems nice at night.”

“Have you been going out?” There was little to do in Lovett at night but hit the town bars.

“I run at night.”

“On purpose?” She pulled back and looked into his face. “No one is chasing you?”

“Not these days.” His soft laughter touched her forehead. Prisms of sharp, colored light slid across his cheeks and into his mouth when he spoke. “Jogging at night relaxes me.”

She preferred a glass of wine and the entire Housewives franchise to relax her, so who was she to judge? “Before you got stranded on the side of the road Friday, what were you doing with yourself?”

“Traveling.” He looked over the top of her head. “Visiting some buddies.”

There were those in town who assumed she had a trust fund. She did not. Her daddy had wealth. She didn’t. How much wealth, she didn’t know, but she had a fairly good idea. “Are you a trust fund baby?” He didn’t look like a man who lived off a trust fund, but traveling in a big gas-guzzling truck wasn’t free, and looks got a person only so far in life. Even him.

“Pardon?” He returned his gaze to her face and watched her mouth as she spoke, which, she had to admit, she found kind of sexy. When she repeated her question, he laughed. “No. Before I left Seattle a few months ago, I worked as a security consultant at the port of Seattle. Part of my job was to identify holes and weakness in the system and report them to Homeland Security.” His thumb brushed her waist through the smooth silk. “Which meant that I dressed like regular security guards or maintenance workers or truck drivers and looked for security breaches in the container terminals.”

Knowing that someone was looking out for America’s ports made her feel safer, and she told him so.

One corner of his mouth lifted. “Just because I filled out some paperwork doesn’t mean anyone paid attention or anything changed.”

Great.

“Working for the government is a lesson in frustration.” He brushed her waist again, back and forth as if he was testing the smooth fabric against the print of his thumb. “Doesn’t matter the branch. Same shit. Different wrapper.” He folded her hand against his chest and slid his free palm to the small of her back. While the band dug into another slow song by Trace Adkins about every light in the house turned on, the unexpected pleasure of Vince’s touch spread a tingling warmth up and down Sadie’s spine. He brought her a little closer and asked, “When you’re not dressed in a Bubble Yum dress like a prom queen, what do you do for a living?” His warm breath touched the shell of her right ear, and the crease of his khakis brushed her bare thigh.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe the exhaustion of the day, but she settled into his chest. “Real estate.” She’d had only a few glasses of merlot, so it probably wasn’t the wine. “I’m an agent.” And she wasn’t all that tired. Certainly not tired enough to have to rest against a hard, muscular chest. She should probably take a step back. Yeah, probably, but it felt good to be held in a pair of big arms against a big chest. His hand slid up her zipper, then back down, spreading all the tingling heat across her skin.

He turned his face into her hair. “You smell good, Sadie Jo.”

So did he, and she breathed him in like a tingly drug. “The only people who call me Sadie Jo have Texas accents.” She liked the way he smelled and felt against her and the way he made her heart pound in her chest, making her feel young and alive. With just a touch on her back, he did things to her body that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Things she shouldn’t be feeling for a stranger. “Everyone else on the planet just calls me Sadie.” She slid a hand to the back of his neck and brushed his collar with her fingers.

“Is Sadie Jo short for something?”

“Mercedes Johanna.” The tips of her fingers slipped across the top of his collar and touched his neck. His skin was hot, warming up the tips of his fingers. “No one has called me that since my mama died.”