Chapter Seven
Tanner drove them home after the race. Oakley couldn’t wipe the smile off her face, still in disbelief over her record time.
“I’m going to take a shower, then make something for lunch. You’re welcome to join me,” she offered, when they pulled into the parking lot.
He shot her a mischievous grin. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The flippant answer caught her off guard for a second before the meaning clicked. Her face heated as she shook her head. “I swear, horn dog central.”
He didn’t deny it.
Taking Hercules in hand, she headed toward her door, finding Tanner right on her heels. “Oh, no. Your shower is over there.” She pointed. “Go. Use it. Shoo. Shoo.”
“But I could wash your back. Play with…”
The furnace kicked up a notch on her blush. “I don’t think so.” She slipped the key into the hole and shoved the door open. “Besides, I meant lunch. You’re welcome to join me for lunch.”
“Shot down again.” He added a pitiful pout for good measure.
Rolling her eyes, she gave him a shove. “Go shower, letch. I’ll get cleaned up and see what I can find to feed you.”
With that declaration, she shut the door in his face. Hercules headed toward the twin-sized mattress on the living room floor. He sniffed and turned, finally plunking down for a nap.
By the time she dropped the bread and cheese on the skillet, Tanner appeared at her door. He knocked then let himself in.
“Looks like I missed the shower.”
She rolled her eyes, finding his easy-going nature compelling. Her hair once more resided in a ponytail, still wet from a thorough washing. Shorts and yet another T-shirt covered her body. Glancing up at him, she found him in similar attire, his short hair almost dry, though a few darker strands spoke of his recent venture into the shower.
“Looks like you found your own and arrived just in time to eat.” She inclined her head toward the refrigerator. “Would you mind getting the salads and dressings out? There’s soda in there as well as bottled water. I can make some tea if you prefer.”
“Water’s fine.” He pulled open the door and dug inside.
After taking the spatula in hand, she checked their meal, determined them done, and took them up. She placed a sandwich on each plate, put them on the table, then quickly grabbed a couple of bags of potato chips.
“Junk food? I didn’t think you believed in such a thing.” He grinned as he sat down.
She plopped down next to him, opening the water he’d set on her placemat. “Well, for potato chips, they are the healthier version.” She pointed to the bag. “See, half the fat of normal chips.” Grinning, she took a sip, absently watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.
Not for the first time did she wonder what made up Tanner. He’d dropped clues now and again, nothing concrete, just enough to whet her appetite for more. She enjoyed his flirty side, but felt he used the persona to cover up something deeper. Considering his military past, he probably carried deep scars and preferred to hide them by enjoying the present. A good philosophy, if one could accomplish the hard task.
Oakley knew for a fact that some images couldn’t be washed out of one’s mind, no matter how hard one tried. Been there, done that. All you can do is learn to cope and move on.
He crunched a chip. “Not too bad.”
“Acquired taste?”
Tanner shrugged. “If you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat just about anything.” Solemn remorse laced his tone.
She needed to learn more, to ease the frown lines that appeared on his face, and bring back the sparkle in his brown eyes.
“I hate the thought of you going hungry.” The whispered words slipped past her lips.
He tilted his head and met her gaze. “All part of the package when you sign on with the Marines. You eat when you can.”
She read suffering in his face, much more so than missing a few meals. Her heart dropped. As much as she wanted to ask him about his experience, she dared not. The typically smiling neighbor she barely knew had morphed into a serious, almost defensive man.
“Maybe I need to stock up on muffin-making supplies.” She grinned up at him, hoping her poor attempt at humor might cut through the sudden tension at the table.
“Thanks for lunch. It’s a nice change to have a home-cooked meal to share.” He offered up the praise with a small, sincere smile.
She savored the compliment. “Even if it’s just a grilled cheese sandwich?”
“Even then.” His eyes heated.
“Like I said, cooking is a hobby. And, for the record, I like the company as well.” She matched his grin.
A few ticks passed before he took a large bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly, while staring at her. “Plan on living here long?”
His question didn’t really surprise her. Tanner seemed well versed in ignoring questions he didn’t want to answer and directing the conversation away from himself.
“I love it here. So, yes, I intend to stay.” She sank her teeth into her meal. “How about you? Ever want to move out? Buy a house? Live the American dream?”
He sipped his drink. “I suspect everyone’s American dream is different.”
She playfully flipped the end of her ponytail back over her shoulder. “What? You don’t want a house on Main Street surrounded by a white picket fence, two point three kids, and a dog?”
He snorted. “Picket fences are damn hard to keep tidy and require lots of paint.”
“What about the dog and the kids?”
“Dogs are fine, if you have time for them.”
“The kids?”
“Never thought much about them.”
Oakley ate a couple of chips and considered his answers. “I hear most men have commitment issues.” She tossed out the old adage and braced for his answer.
He glanced around the room and ate in silence for a long moment before finally answering. “Hear? You don’t know first-hand?”
She squirmed with the inquiry turned back on her. Not about to shirk away, she went for honesty. “I wouldn’t know one way or another personally. Just know what I’ve heard from friends.”
He studied her. “Never found a man you wanted to settle down with?”
She shook her head. “Not even close.” Finished with her meal, she started cleaning up.
Tanner finished his sandwich then carried his plate over to the sink. “Why not?”
“I guess my Prince Charming hasn’t shown up yet.” She loaded the handful of dirty items into the dishwasher then washed her hands. After plucking the scrunchie from her hair, she grabbed up the loose ends, and began to braid.
“Don’t tell me you believe in fairy tales.” His brow furrowed.
She shrugged. After her roommate’s experience in college, she’d pretty much tossed the ideal man theory out of the window. “No, not really.” That didn’t mean she didn’t wonder now and again ‘What if?’
“Good. Because they don’t exist.” His soft voice turned gravelly with sincerity.
“What does exist?” The question popped out of her mouth before she could seal her lips.
He grinned wickedly. “Between men and women?”
She nodded.
Tanner watched her with knowing eyes, taking a large swallow from his bottled water. “Mind-blowing sex, if you can find a woman with enough passion inside.” He waggled his eyebrows in a not so subtle hint.
“Sex is overrated,” she hastened to inform him. It wasn’t hard to determine where his mind had landed—not after earlier. No way was she falling for his practiced charm and charisma. Nope.
He walked gracefully, flowing over to her side, to whisper in her ear, “Not with me. I’m what makes dreams come true.”
His warm breath caressed her sensitive earlobe and sent a shiver through her. Ignoring the response, she stepped away, waving flippantly with one hand. “Sorry. I’ve got other things to do this afternoon.”
“Such as?” He stared at her as if she were daft and needed small words to understand.
“Teach class.”
“Teach?” he echoed.
She shook her head. Maybe he was the daft one, a bit slow on the up-draw. “I teach self-defense classes on Saturday afternoons.”
Tanner sat with his mouth wide open, watching her work the long sable locks into neat order. Never in all his years of dealing with women had one turned him down so bluntly. She appeared immune to his considerable charm and swagger. Women flocked to him. He played around. That was the way of his world, always had been, until Oakley came along and smashed his record streak with a simple flip of her hand.
Self-defense class? The second jolt hit him. Not that women weren’t capable, but he had never expected such a petite woman to teach such a rough and tumble subject. Back in basic training, the instructors were male and the workouts tough. Even the fastest learners had sported multiple bruises the next morning. Probably a class full of female students. That puzzle piece fit a bit better to his thinking. Still, the tidbit both surprised and intrigued him.
“How long have you been teaching self-defense?” The more he thought about it, the more curious he became.
She wrapped the scrunchie at the end of the braid. “Since college.”
When her arms rose above her head, those small, perky breasts lifted, pulling her T-shirt tight enough to outline their beauty. Either one would fit nicely in his hand, until replaced by his mouth. He would kiss and suckle those ripe nipples, lavishing them with attention until she writhed with need.
“Hey! Eyes on face.” Oakley frowned at him.
“Can’t blame a man for looking.” A shrug followed.
“Uh-huh. Can’t blame a woman for whopping you upside the head either.”
“Annie,” he tossed out, knowing what her reaction would be.
She huffed. “You promised!”
He grinned at her haughty reaction. She stirred easily, a fact that delighted him to no end. Watching her ire and color rise provided endless entertainment, not to mention hinted at a dormant, deep-seated passion just waiting for him to coax it to the fore. “I didn’t promise not to call you Annie.” He could tell she replayed the encounter in her head.
“But you ate my apple crisp, which implied that you promised.”
He couldn’t wait to taste a bite of her, too. Nibble here and there, lick down between her legs where a sweet feminine essence waited. Slide balls deep into her juicy channel.
“Earth to Tanner.” The curt chastisement broke into his daydream. “Oh, good grief. Can we discuss anything without you thinking of sex?”
A wicked grin emerged. “Every six seconds, baby.”
She threw her arms up, retreating to her bedroom.
He chuckled watching her go. Oh, yeah, she’ll be sheer hell on wheels in my bed.