A Daddy for Jacoby. Christyne Butler
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of the sheriff’s sister by sleeping with her. Three months and it was still considered hot gossip.
Too bad it never happened.
Justin Dillon ignored the two girls giggling outside the hardware store and shoved another load of wood into the bed of his truck. They were probably in high school and at thirty-two, he was old enough to be their father. Almost.
He slammed the tailgate closed and climbed inside the truck that was older than the teenagers gawking at him, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. He started the engine and rolled down the window, letting a spring breeze blow in as he headed down Main Street. April in Wyoming could still bring nasty snowstorms, but lately, it had been sunny and warm.
Good thing, too, as he had plenty of work to do at the cabin. He’d grown tired of living in the makeshift apartment over the bar, especially now that his sister owned the place. She’d let him stay rent-free, but working in the kitchen and sleeping above it had gotten old.
And the memories from that night with Gina were killing him. Dark hair fanned out over his pillows, lush curves outlined beneath his sheets, soft sighs punctuating her sleep.
Yep, that’s all Gina had done.
Sleep.
Him? Not a wink. And it wasn’t because of the beating he’d taken that had left him with a pounding headache and sore ribs.
No, it was more like figuring out why Gina, of all people, had stayed with him.
Justin pulled into the lot at The Blue Creek and parked near the back entrance. He wanted to grab the last of his stuff and take it out to the cabin. Thanks to his new brother-in-law purchasing the old campground across the lake from his log home, Justin had somewhere to call his own for the first time in his life.
The good sheriff had agreed to let him stay in one of the two-bedroom cabins in exchange for fixing up the place. Justin figured Gage did it for two reasons. His wife, who also happened to be Justin’s sister, had asked him to, and Gage wanted to make sure a repeat performance between his little sister and Justin didn’t happen.
Not likely. He was going to make sure of that.
He checked his watch. Almost five. The bar traffic should be light, including the waitstaff, as most of the girls didn’t come in until later.
Not that he was trying to avoid anyone.
Stop trying so damn hard to convince yourself.
He heard feminine laughter as he pushed open the door to the employee lounge. Gina stood atop a ladder, reaching to put a box on the top shelf where the items sold out front were stored. Her T-shirt hugged her curves and as she moved, it rose, revealing a few inches of skin at her midsection.
And Ric Murphy, a college kid who worked as one of the bar’s bouncers, stood behind her making sure she didn’t fall, by conveniently placing one hand on the ladder and the other on the back of one of her jean-clad thighs just beneath her butt.
Justin couldn’t hear what the guy was saying, but Gina must have found it funny because she laughed again. The ladder wobbled and Ric put both hands on her instead of steadying the rickety, aged ladder.
Yeah, that made sense.
“Watch out, Ric!” Gina cried, grabbing hold of the metal shelving. “I’m grateful for your help because Barbie had to leave, but if I fall you’re going to have to catch me.”
“Like that would be a hardship.” Ric grinned. “Having a beautiful woman in my arms—”
Justin banged the door against the wall as he entered, heading for the storage locker located to the right of them. “Don’t mind me.”
Both Gina and Ric jumped and looked at him, but he ignored them. He fumbled with the combination lock, and had to run the combo twice before it sprung open. He yanked open the door and pulled out the boxes he’d stored there.
“Need any help, Dillon?”
Ric’s tone was patronizing, but Justin didn’t rise to the bait. He kept his back to both of them. For whatever reason, Ric Murphy had made it clear from Justin’s first day here that he didn’t like him. “I think you’ve got your hands full.”
Gina gasped, but before she could say anything someone in the hall called Ric’s name.
“I’ve got to go. You going to be okay here?” he asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Gina said. “I’m just about done anyway.”
Ric stepped over Justin’s stuff and walked out of the room. A long pause filled the air before Gina finally spoke.
Just like Justin figured she would.
“That wasn’t very nice.”
“That’s me,” he said, still not looking at her. “Not very nice.”
“He was just helping—”
“Sweetheart, if that’s all you think he was doing, you’ve got a lot to learn.” He pulled out a couple of sleeping bags and pillows and placed them on the pile.
“What do you care anyway—oh!”
Justin spun. It was a split-second decision. The ladder or the girl. He only had time to grab one and the girl was heading toward him. His hands locked onto Gina’s waist, and he pulled her flush against his chest, stopping her fall.
Biting back a curse when the toppling ladder caught him at the knee, he tightened his grip on her waist to keep both of them from tumbling to the floor. Gina twisted in his arms and he found his nose inches from being buried in her soft curves.
“Dammit, hold still.” He expelled his comment with a hiss.
She froze, but her body responded, easily visible through her cotton T-shirt.
He could have set her to the floor, but instead he slowly dragged her down the length of him, causing that soft T-shirt to ride up even more, until they were eye to eye.
“Did you do that on purpose?” he asked, surprised at the huskiness of his voice.
“Do what?”
He didn’t know if she was blushing because of the closeness of their bodies or the fact her soft words matched his. “Reach too far so I’d catch you when you fell.”
The pink tinges of her skin darkened. “Are you crazy? Put me down.” She squirmed and pushed against his shoulders.
“You are down.”
“I can’t feel the floor beneath my feet.”
“Yeah, I’ve been told I have that effect on women.”
Her blue eyes widened, that famous Steele blue color everyone in her family shared, and her lips parted. A musky, exotic scent lifted from her skin. He pulled in a deep breath, instantly associating it with the spicy-yet-sweet flavor of cinnamon with just a hint of sugar added for flavoring.
It brought to mind the rack of spices he used in the kitchen on a daily basis. On more than one occasion he’d grabbed the tin of dusky, reddish-brown powder whether or not cinnamon was called for in the recipe.
Damn, this girl was trouble with a capital T. She was also innocent with a capital I.
Gina was twenty-two years old, ten years his junior. Justin had learned enough about her in the last three months to know she was one part intelligence, one part wholesome and completely out of his league.
“Justin…”
Her voice, low, throaty and way too enticing, snapped him back to reality. He quickly set her away from him, desperate to escape the effect she was having on him, both physically and mentally.
It was then he saw the pink in her hair. It looked like she’d tried to hide it, tucked back behind one ear, but her fall had caused the bright streak of color to spring forward and rest