Blue Moon Saloon Box Set 2 Page 9

  “Really, I’m happy to help,” she said, wiping down a table.

  “I like Anna working her butt off,” Janna added with a grin. “I’ve gotten to sleep in every morning this week.”

  Anna laughed. “All of you work so hard. I can’t believe you manage so many back-to-back shifts.”

  It was true. Everyone worked hard to make the café and the saloon a success, and she was happy to be part of it in some way. At her real estate office in Virginia, there was never a feeling of a common goal the way there was here.

  “Now you’re the one doing back-to-back shifts,” Sarah pointed out.

  Anna shrugged. “I like being busy, and I like getting to know everyone here.”

  Like Todd? the back of her mind chipped in before slipping into daydreams again.

  Yes, Todd. She was dying to see him again. The one time she’d managed to make an excuse to bring him a drink, Soren had been around, so she couldn’t throw herself into another kiss. Still, it lit up her soul just to see him.

  It was pathetic, how excited she got about little moments like those. The sight of his eyes lighting up when he saw her, and the way he held her gaze when he brought the coffee mug to his lips. Lips she spent way, way too much time thinking about.

  Hours ticked by, and the whole time, she wondered when she might see him again.

  “Hey,” Janna said at ten p.m. “I can handle the rest. You can call it a night.”

  Anna looked around. “You sure?”

  There were still a good two dozen customers in the saloon, most of them German tourists who were glued to a soccer game they’d begged Simon to tune the TV to. A team in red with far too many consonants in its name was tied with a team in white, and everyone was very excited about who might win.

  “No problem. They’ve all eaten, so it’ll only be drinks from now on. Thanks again.” Janna waved her toward the back door.

  Anna hung her apron in the kitchen and emptied her tips into the tip jar everyone shared. Then she walked out through the back room, stopping to admire the bar Todd had been restoring. Soren had been excited to discover a beautiful rosewood pattern inlaid around the edge, and she ran a finger along the diamond-in-a-square design, leading all the way down the serving counter like a tiny railroad track. God, it was going to be beautiful. Hell, it was already beautiful. Todd had toiled over every hard edge, every impossible-to-reach corner, every delicate curve. Other than a stack of used sandpaper in the corner, he’d left everything neat as a pin, ready for work the next day.

  She nodded in respect. Todd was leaving his mark on this special place.

  She looked at it for another minute, wondering what mark she might leave. Not sure if she liked the word leave at all.

  So, Sarah, I was wondering…

  The speech she’d been toying with raced through her mind. But once again, she batted down the urge to find Sarah and ask if she could stay longer. Stay forever, possibly — or at least as long as Todd did, which seemed as up in the air as her own plans. But she’d stretched her visit out to two weeks already, and while Sarah had been welcoming, she hadn’t actually invited Anna to move in.

  Unfortunately.

  Walking out the back door, she stepped into the cool night air and tilted her head up to the indigo sky.

  “Wow,” she murmured aloud.

  There looked to be about a million stars out in that perfectly clear Arizona sky. The moon was nowhere to be seen, and the Milky Way could have been a speckled highway, it was that distinct and bright. She’d only ever seen it stand out so bold and bright one other time, and that had been one summer in Montana, a long time ago.

  Montana…Arizona. Her mind bounced from one to the other. She’d never felt as at peace as she did in two places she’d never been able to call home.

  She took a few steps forward and craned her neck for a better view. What she really needed was a meadow to lie in, just like she’d done that summer way back when.

  Then it occurred to her that while she might not have a meadow, she did have the next best thing. Todd had started work on the deck upstairs, and she’d bet the stars looked even brighter from up there. In fact, hadn’t Janna asked Todd to carry up the roll of unused Astroturf they’d found among all the odds and ends in the garage?

  Come on, then. Come on up, the stars seemed to call, all of them twinkling as one.

  There were two ways up to the deck: through a door from the apartment over the saloon or up a set of fire stairs that started in the rear lot. She took the latter and ascended slowly, watching the stars as she went.

  The deck had been built over the flat roof of a room that had been added on to the saloon years ago, and it played a central role in the grand plans everyone had for the apartment upstairs.

  “We can barbecue there!” Janna had clapped when she came up with the idea.

  “Maybe put in a little baby pool.” Sarah had sighed.

  “With an awning,” Jessica had added. “A place we can chill out and relax since we don’t really have a yard.”

  Of course, the deck was a work in progress, like the rest of the apartment. The last time she’d taken a peek, it was just a sloppily tarred surface with a couple of provisional safety rails.

  A flash made her snap her head up just as she reached the level of the deck. A shooting star?

  “Make a wish,” Todd called softly.

  She whipped around in surprise, her heart already skipping joyfully.

  He was lying on his back with his hands behind his head, studying the stars. Or was he studying her?

  She glanced at him just in time to catch his eyes sliding back to the sky.

  Hurry up and make your wish, the crickets seemed to call.

  She closed her eyes and pictured a replay of their kiss.

  “Got it?” Todd asked.

  She nodded slowly. Yeah, she’d made her wish. The question was, would it come true? Watching Todd lie there, more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, made her wish even more.

  “Wow. This is great,” she said, stepping onto the deck and looking around. The rough surface was gone, hidden under a layer of wood. A carpet of Astroturf was spread over the middle like a patch of grass. In the moonlight, it could have passed for the real thing, soft and springy under her feet.

  “Not quite a mountain meadow, but it will do,” Todd murmured.

  She tilted her head at him. Was the man a mind reader, or were they both wired the same way?

  She motioned to the space beside him. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Sure.” His voice didn’t sound as relaxed as his posture.

  She sat beside him, suddenly self-conscious, and slipped her sandals off to test the lawn with her toes.

  Todd studied her. “What do you think?”

  She glanced at his bare feet. The two of them really were wired the same way.

  “Well…” She wiggled her toes. “It’s better than it was. Way better.”

  He chuckled a little but went quiet the second she stretched out beside him. Not too close, but not too far. Still, every nerve ending in her body tingled.

  “Did you make a wish?” she asked after a quiet minute ticked by. Did big, quiet mountain men even make wishes?

  He nodded but didn’t say a thing, and she wondered what his wish had been.

  She pushed her shoulders back and looked up. “God, look at the Big Dipper.” She could practically see it scoop stardust out of the desert sky.

  “The Great Bear,” he corrected.

  She angled her head this way and that. “I could never really see the bear in it. All the constellations are like that. Have you seen Taurus? It looks nothing like a bull.”

  “Sure it does,” he said, pointing to the right.

  She found it easily, but not the bull part. “It just looks like a sideways V.”

  He opened his hand, fingers together, thumb pointing down, and traced the shape with his other hand. The one that was all scarred up. “He’s looking sideways. There’s his nos
e, his horns.” He pointed at his hand, then at the sky. “The bright one is his eye.”

  His. Funny how he described that constellation the way he might describe an old friend.

  “Oh! I see it!” She pointed. “Hey, it really does look like a bull.”

  “Yep.”

  All the astronomy books she’d ever read drew stiff, color-by-numbers kind of lines between stars — that, or they drew impossibly swirly, intricate sketches of what the constellations were supposed to be. What they really needed were pictures of Todd’s hands.

  He balled them into fists and dropped them quickly out of sight, but she reached over and put them right back. So what if they were scarred? So what if the fingers of the right hand couldn’t straighten all the way? Tonight, those hands were artists. Astronomers. Magicians.

  “Show me another one,” she asked.

  His hands wavered for a second before he pointed again. “Cassiopeia.”

  She groaned. “That one’s impossible.”

  “Picture a woman leaning back.”

  She snorted. “I see a W. Did she trip over a rock or something?”

  His laugh was music to her ears. “I don’t think so. But with Greek myths, you never know.”

  “I don’t see anything like a woman.”

  “She’s there. Look, like you.” He rolled on his side and motioned toward her body. “Bend your knees a little bit.”

  She drew them up, squinting at the stars.

  “Now lean on your elbows…”

  She drew them up and laughed. “Now I look like a woman trying to pick guys up on the beach. All I need is a bikini.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe the Greeks left that part out of the myth. But look.” He pointed up. “Cassiopeia.”

  She stretched back out, feeling self-conscious about the way she’d stuck her chest out. But when she refocused on the stars, she saw a woman take shape.

  “Whoa. Wait. I see her.”

  Now she was the one talking about constellations like they were people she knew.

  “See? Easy. Now the bear…” Todd emphasized the last word as if introducing the main event.

  “The Dipper.”

  “The Bear,” he insisted.

  “Where?”

  “The end of the dipper is his nose. He’s looking left, toward his mate.”

  “He has a mate?”

  Todd answered slowly. “Well, maybe he’s looking for her.”

  Her heart fluttered a little at the idea. If only she could be a bear.

  “The dipper is his nose,” Todd repeated. Typical male — dropping the romantic part like a hot coal. “The cup part of the dipper is his back. Picture him wearing a little saddle blanket or a jacket, like he’s been forced to work for a circus.”

  His words dripped scorn, and she looked at him. Man, he really took this bear stuff personally.

  “Like that part?” When she pointed, her hand brushed his.

  “Yeah. And his tail is over there, but those stars are fainter. Mainly, you have to picture the chest part.”

  He motioned toward his body, and yeah, that part was easy to equate to a bear. He was that big, that broad, that solid.

  She turned away and puffed a little air toward her face. Suddenly, she felt flush. Maybe she should concentrate on the stars. She found the bear’s nose again, followed the line of stars along its back and—

  “Oh! I see it! It’s like a polar bear.”

  “Grizzly,” he growled.

  She squinted again. “How can you tell?”

  “Definitely a grizzly,” he said vaguely.

  “Cool. I can see the bear.”

  “Like I said. Easy.”

  “You make it easy,” she said. A little like falling in love with him. Far, far too easy.

  They lay in silence, looking at the stars. She found Taurus and Cassiopeia again, just for practice, then turned back to the bear and contemplated what Todd had said.

  “Does he ever find her?” she asked.

  “Find who?”

  “His mate. Does he find her?”

  She’d expected him to laugh, but Todd fell silent. Gravely silent. He didn’t answer for a long time.

  “I’m not sure.” His voice was a whisper.

  She listened to the crickets chirp for a minute, wondering why he sounded so sad.

  “How does he know it’s his mate?” she ventured. Was that part of the myth, too?

  Todd took a deep breath. “He knows the second he sees her. That’s the easy part.”

  Huh. “So what’s the hard part?” It seemed easy to her. Boy bear sees girl bear. Grunts. Growls. They get together, make adorable cubs, and—

  “Making sure he’s worthy of her.”

  She sighed. Yeah, she would definitely like to be a bear.

  “I bet he is,” she said, because Todd sounded a little unsure. “Look at him.”

  “Yeah, look at him.” His voice was a little bitter, so she caught his hand and massaged it a little bit. Were they still talking about bears?

  “Hey,” she whispered, rolling on her side.

  He looked up at the stars, not meeting her eyes.

  “If the boy bear recognizes his mate the second he sees her, she’s bound to recognize him, too.”

  His chest went up and down with a deep breath. “I’m not sure.”

  She snorted and leaned closer. “Before I get mad at you for implying that females are too stupid to recognize what males see right away—”

  His hands flew up in protest, but she continued before he could speak.

  “—let me prove to you they’re not.”

  And she kissed him.

  She had no idea what had come over her. Maybe she’d blame it on the stars and their cheery, hopeful light. Maybe it was Todd with all that talk of mates. Or maybe it was that insistent voice in the back of her mind.

  Get this man. Make him yours before you miss your chance.

  Whatever it was, she couldn’t hold back any more. She needed that kiss.

  She kissed him lightly, rolling her lips as if to stir the taste out of him. And damn, did he taste good. All male, all musky. His lips were rough around the edges but soft in the middle, and they danced slowly over hers.

  She rolled closer, cupping his face and kissing deeper. Soon, not only were their lips touching but their bodies, too. Her chest squeezed against his, her legs found the perfect angle to nestle close to his, and her hips…

  Her hips followed their own agenda, sneaking closer and closer to him.

  “Anna,” he whispered.

  She went from kissing to nuzzling him with her chin, her cheek, her nose.

  “You don’t want this?”

  She managed to sound confident because his body all but screamed to hers, which meant he wanted this, too. His hands cupped her waist, his legs shifted to make space for hers, and his chest rose and fell heavily.

  “I want this. But—”

  “No buts. Please.”

  “Anna—”

  “You really want me to stop?” She panted beside his ear.

  “I never want you to stop,” he whispered.

  “Then forget about everything else.”

  She sure had forgotten. She’d tuned out the voices drifting up from the saloon and stopped measuring the distance to the room where Sarah slept with Teddy in case one of them overheard. She quit thinking about tomorrow or what other people might think and focused entirely on the moment. Everything disappeared except for him. Her.

  Him and her, like one thing. Their hearts beat in tandem. Their chests rose and fell at exactly the same time. And the need around them grew like a physical thing.

  She slid until she wasn’t just lying alongside him but on him, and the fire that had been crackling quietly inside her suddenly flared into a blaze. She straddled him and dragged her hips over his.

  “Anna…” He wasn’t protesting any more. He was urging her on.

  She slid up his body then down, seeking out just the right sp
ot.

  “You know what Sarah once told me?” she asked, nibbling on his ear.

  His hands slid along her ribs until they found the outline of her bra. “What did Sarah once tell you?”

  His voice was flat, and his lips seemed far more interested in the curve of her neck than an answer.

  “She said the old mountain men used to tell stories about folks turning into animals. Like werewolves. Werebears, too.”

  He stiffened while she circled his ear with her tongue.

  “Really?” He said it slowly, carefully, probably wondering what she was going on about.

  “Really. People who could change into wolves or bears or other animals. And you know what?” She nudged with her hips again, finding the hard spot she sought in his jeans.

  “What?” he croaked.

  She looked up at the stars, then dipped down and spoke right into his lips. “The moon isn’t out, but I’m kind of feeling the animal urge tonight.”

  He let out a puff of air and relaxed. “Really? I barely noticed.”

  She smiled then tested the seam of his lips. They opened, letting her in, and she kissed him deeply, moaning with delight.

  “If you could turn into an animal, what would you be?” he asked while working open the top button of her blouse.

  “Mmm.” She mumbled and got back to work on his ear. “I don’t know. What would you be?”

  “A bear. Definitely a bear.”

  “Let me guess.” She tickled his ear with a lock of her hair. “A grizzly.”

  He nodded gravely, tracing her collarbone with his thumb. “What about you?”

  “Then I’d have to be a bear, too.” She threaded her fingers through his thick hair, clearing a path from his ear to his neck to kiss.

  “You wouldn’t have to be,” he pointed out.

  God, she loved this man.

  “I’d want to be.”

  His neck tasted even better than his lips, if that was possible. She kissed right down to the hollow under his chin, then went back to his lips to double-check. Maybe she needed more research to decide. Lots more research.

  Todd slid his hands from her waist to her rear, bringing her closer. She rolled her hips and watched his eyes close.

  “Do that again,” he whispered.

  Crush herself against the unmistakable ridge of his jeans? Gladly.