Kentucky Heat Page 2

  “I didn’t know you had a degree in psychology.”

  Aimee turned to face him. “You are more than your daddy’s money, Hank. I had to learn that the hard way. I hate to see it happening to you too.”

  “Why don’t you just go back and take care of that baby? I don’t need your help or advice.”

  Hank turned on his heel and strode out the kitchen door. He fled down the steps and around the pool covered for the winter. It was dark and cold. A lone security light burned over the garage. He didn’t need light to see. He’d found his way home drunk plenty of times. Tonight was easy.

  He was stone cold sober.

  Chapter Three

  Pappy Smith’s Country Bar

  Hank lightly fingered a glass of Knob Creek bourbon. He lifted it to his lips and drowned his sorrows one more time. Aimee didn’t need to lecture him. He knew his life was a mess.

  For once, he wanted to do something about it.

  That’s a change.

  At least when he didn’t care, he did whatever he damn well pleased and didn’t worry about it.

  But at thirty, with his life slipping away, he was worried.

  He wanted what Cam had, and for once it had nothing to do with his father’s business. Hank wanted that look in his stepbrother’s eyes—that glow that showed when he gazed at Aimee or Alec. Hank wanted a love like Cam had. He wanted someone to share his life with.

  “You’ve changed drinks, sugar.”

  Hank turned at the sound of a sultry voice to find Raylynn behind him. She stepped up to the bar and rested her elbow on it, staring at him with black fringed blue eyes. Her makeup was as overdone as the last time—painted lips and eyes—but instead of a cowgirl costume, she wore a black Western long-sleeve shirt with silver buttons, the tightest pair of faded blue jeans he’d ever seen on a woman, and black leather cowboy boots. A black hat was firmly in place over black curls.

  Hank looked her up and down, but she didn’t flinch at his appraisal. “Are you going for the bad guy look?” he asked.

  “Just part of the act, sugar.” She gave him a smile that sent his pulses into overdrive.

  Hank shifted on the bar stool. “You’re here early.”

  “I’d say the same about you.” Raylynn climbed aboard the neighboring stool. She nodded at the bartender who acknowledged her with a lift of his hand.

  Hank swirled the bourbon on the rocks. Awareness of this woman filled him with a strange inner excitement. Damn! She was gorgeous. He’d love to get under that paint and costume and find out what she was like beneath her façade.

  He glanced sideways at her. “I was hoping to see you again.”

  The words left his mouth before he thought about them. Where had they come from? Hank took another sip of his drink.

  She grinned slightly, the outer edges of her lips lifting in a little smirk as if she was amused by him and didn’t take him seriously. “I suppose I should be flattered.”

  “Most women are,” he admitted.

  “I’m not most women.” She cocked her head, an eyebrow lifting to make the point.

  The bartender brought a tall glass of iced tea and placed it on the napkin in front of her.

  Hank nodded toward the drink. “You don’t drink?”

  Raylynn squeezed a big wedge of lemon into the tea. “Not while I’m working.”

  She took a long draw on the straw, gazing at him from under her lashes while she did. There was invitation in her eyes coupled with laughter. Hank didn’t know how to take her. Should he be encouraged or put off? Not many women turned him down once they learned who his father was and how much money he stood to inherit.

  But Raylynn didn’t know about his father. To her he was just a lonely guy sitting at the bar. More than that, there was nothing outwardly to recommend him to her. Given what he knew about his miserable thirty years, he’d be amused by himself too.

  “Why the hard stuff?” Raylynn tipped her head toward his glass of bourbon.

  He shrugged. “Why not? I don’t have any place to go tonight. Thought I’d drown my sorrows.”

  “Now what kind of sorrows does a good-looking guy like you have?”

  “I’ve got plenty.”

  “A girl?”

  “Family.”

  “Ah!” Raylynn nodded as if she understood. She pulled the straw out of the glass and licked it.

  Hank wanted to capture that tongue in his mouth, taste it. Taste her. Damn!

  “What about you?” he asked quickly, wondering if she would answer. “Are you dating anyone?”

  “Now why would you want to know that?” Her deep and sultry words were full of amusement again.

  Hank placed his hand on her knee. She fired him up. His gut burned with a flaring desire for this mystery woman with the beautiful voice.

  “You intrigue me,” he said. “I want to get to know you away from this place.”

  “I don’t take drinks from customers.” She pushed his hand away. “I don’t date them either.”

  “You don’t let a guy down easy.”

  “Part of my job, sugar.”

  “What else do you do? You don’t live at this bar, do you? You have to go home sometime.”

  She laughed. “You’re persistent. I’ll say that for you.” She jabbed the straw back into the glass, leaned forward, and sipped the tea.

  Hank’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll stick around and follow you home. I’ll find out where you live.” He lifted the bourbon in a salute, daring her to withstand his resolve to get to know her.

  “Better be careful, sugar,” Raylynn drawled. “My daddy has a big old shotgun, and he doesn’t take kindly to gentleman callers.”

  She left him then and walked with long graceful strides to the stage where the band had arrived and was setting up.

  Hank took another drink, determined to nurse this one and the next. If he couldn’t take her out after work, he could at least enjoy her while she was here. Following her home afterwards remained a viable option.

  * * * *

  “Raylynn, that guy you were talking to earlier is making trouble.”

  Raylynn had removed her hat. She turned from the mirror in the bathroom, the only dressing spot in Pappy Smith’s, to find Jake, the bartender, standing at the door. “What’s he doing, Jake?”

  “He’s had too much to drink but won’t let me call a cab. Says he wants you to take him home. I’m about to call the cops.”

  Raylynn sighed. “I’ll handle him. Be there in a sec.”

  Playing babysitter to Hank Brennan was an added complication she didn’t need tonight, not with a five a.m. wakeup alarm in the morning. But she owed it to Aimee to see that her friend’s brother-in-law made it home safely.

  Putting the hat carefully back on her sprayed and teased black hair, Raylynn wiped sweat from her face. That removed much of the stage makeup, making her feel more like herself. Then she gathered up her shoulder bag and coat.

  Pete, Chip, and Dave, her band members, had already packed their gear and headed out. The four of them had played together in the high school marching band where they had started performing country music for fun. Now they enjoyed these weekend gigs at Pappy Smith’s. With day jobs to go to, they only played at being country music stars. They loved it. Besides, the extra spending money was not a bad thing in these hard economic times.

  Once she had dreamed of becoming a country music star, but she knew that goal was unattainable. She wasn’t given to following pipe dreams.

  Raylynn’s boots clunked across the polished wooden bar floors. Most of the customers had gone, leaving Hank sitting by himself at the mahogany bar. Her heart twisted when she saw him slumped there, his head resting on his arms.

  “On your feet, sugar,” Raylynn ordered, tapping Hank on the shoulder.

  He lifted his head and looked at her with a bleary-eyed stare. “Do you know you’re a hottie?”

  Raylynn shoved his shoulder this time. “C’mon, on your feet.”

  “I’m gonna
be sick.”

  “You’ll be sick if you find yourself spending the night in jail. Jake’s fixin’ to haul your butt out of here.”

  That got Hank moving. He groaned and struggled to sit up. “You takin’ me home?” He wore a silly grin on his face.

  “That’s the plan.” She was short with him, giving him a no-nonsense glare.

  “But I’m supposed to follow you home.” He climbed to his feet and swayed a little.

  Raylynn grabbed his arm to steady him. “You should have thought about that sooner.”

  “This could get interesting fast.” He lifted an eyebrow and reached for her.

  She stepped away, and Hank almost toppled over. “Cowboy up, Hank Brennan! Get your act together, or I may leave you here for the police.”

  Hank shook his head as if to clear the buzz from it. “No, don’t do that. Daddy won’t like it.”

  “Then get your coat on and let’s go.”

  “Here it is.” Jake tossed a down vest across the bar.

  Hank put it on while Raylynn shrugged on a black leather bomber jacket and draped a white wool scarf around her neck.

  “You turn me on.” Hank leaned wobbly toward her and whispered loud enough for Jake to hear and roll his eyes.

  “C’mon, sugar. Let’s see about getting you into bed.”

  “I’d like that,” Hank said wearing another stupid grin.

  “Alone.” Raylynn took Hank’s arm and marched him toward the back door.

  Chapter Four

  After helping Hank into the front seat of her Honda Ridgeline, Raylynn wasn’t surprised that he fell asleep with his head against the passenger-side window. The ride from downtown on Brownsboro Road was oddly quiet, giving her time to think.

  Because of her friendship with Aimee, Raylynn knew exactly where Hank lived having attended a pool party at Cam’s parents’ house to celebrate Cam and Aimee’s engagement. That was before Hank had moved into the pool house and before she had seen him for the first time at her friends’ wedding in Chicago, where at the reception he had made a drunken fool of himself with loud laughter and pursuit of a tall redhead.

  Hank had not been aware of her then, which suited Raylynn fine. But she’d been aware of him. It wasn’t just his good looks—his dark hair a little long, olive skin with the suggestion of a five-o’clock shadow, and athletic body—that intrigued her. She knew enough about his story, and how annoying Aimee found her husband’s younger stepbrother, to wonder why a kid with so much going for him could have soured on life.

  Was he really a jerk or a lost boy playing at being a man?

  Raylynn stopped her truck in front of the Brennans’ ranch house. She turned off the lights and ignition. All was dark at the front of the house except for the glow of a street lamp two houses down.

  “You’re home. Out you go.” Hank didn’t move. Raylynn punched his arm. “Wake up.”

  Hank startled. He sat up and blinked. “What? Where am I?”

  “Home.”

  He looked around and scratched his head. Then he turned blurry eyes on her. “What are you doing here?”

  “You needed a ride home.”

  “Oh.” Hank opened the door and climbed out. He held onto the door as if it were his life support. “I’m going to be sick.”

  Raylynn started the engine. Her mouth hardened. “Well, then go to bed.”

  “I can’t make it! I need help!” Hank raised his voice to be heard over the engine noise. “Hey! You’re leaving me!”

  “What are you doing?” Raylynn hissed, trying to reach across the seat to shut the door. “You’ll wake your parents!”

  He hugged the door. “They aren’t home.”

  “Then you’ll wake the neighbors.”

  “Come with me.”

  “I’m not going to come with you. I’ve come far enough.”

  “I really need your help.”

  Did he? Or was standing there like a sad little boy part of a ploy? Aimee was right. Hank was a mess, and she shouldn’t have gotten involved.

  “Okay, okay!” So much for feeling sorry for the guy. Raylynn stopped the engine and slipped out of the driver’s side door. “You’re being a pain in the ass.”

  Hank shut his door and stumbled around the truck. “And you’ve got such a pretty ass.”

  He grinned and lunged toward her. Raylynn sidestepped, and Hank toppled face first into the wet grass at the curb.

  “You’re going to hurt yourself.” She knelt beside him and took his arm.

  “I’m okay. I’m okay,” he said in a groggy voice. “Oh! I feel sick.”

  “Up you go.” Climbing to her feet, she helped Hank get to his.

  He wobbled, looking pale. Clutching his arm, supporting him, she managed to lead him to the fence that flanked the property, through the gate and down the steps to the pool. The pool was surrounded by trees, making the whole area quiet and secluded. A charming pool house sat on the edge of a fall-away lot on the other side. Not far to go now.

  Then Hank took a jerky step toward the pool, covered for the winter with a blue tarp. “Let’s go swimming!”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” She yanked him back and staggered again under his weight.

  The progress toward Hank’s pool house was slow. His weight and awkwardness made her totter too. They both looked drunk. Thank goodness his parents weren’t home to see them.

  “Do you have a key?” she asked when they arrived at the door.

  “Nope.” Hank reached for the knob, turned it, and entered ahead of her.

  It was dark inside and cold. The only light came from the outside security lamp shining in the window, throwing a defused glow around the cramped room.

  She followed him in, turned and shut the door. She turned back to see him standing in the middle of the room watching her. In the gloomy light he did look like a forlorn child who had just lost his puppy.

  “I’m going to help you into bed and then I’m leaving,” she said, trying not to feel sorry for him. She’d rescued too many stray cats and dogs in her life. She didn’t need a human project.

  “I need to pee.”

  “Okay.” Raylynn lifted an eyebrow. “Can’t help you there.”

  Hank turned and headed through the only other door in the one-room cottage. Assuming it was the bathroom, Raylynn searched for a light switch. She found one on the wall beside the entrance door and flicked it on.

  The place was a mess. On the far wall was a cabinet area with Formica countertops. This was meant to be a bar, but must be where Hank cooked his meals. There was a small sink stacked with dirty dishes, a refrigerator the size of one in a college dorm, and a microwave oven. A sofa daybed was pushed against another wall. It was open, serving as a bed and littered with dirty clothes. So was the wicker papasan chair—the only place to sit.

  The rest of the room was Hank’s art studio. Covered canvases were propped against a wall. An easel with a huge abstract oil painting on it was set up near the front window. That was art? The splotches of bright reds and greens looked like a weird Christmas package. It didn’t appeal to Raylynn, who had more conservative tastes.

  The sound of the toilet flushing announced Hank’s return. Raylynn spun around from the half-finished painting to find him standing once more in the middle of the room, arms dangling from his side, the fly of his blue jeans unzipped.

  She swallowed and jerked her gaze back up to his face. There wasn’t anything about Hank Brennan that interested her, but she’d heard about his prowess in bed. In fact, he was famous for it.

  Not going there!

  “Get undressed,” she said to him, turned and began picking up the dirty clothes off the daybed. It was bigger than a twin, but not as big as a double. She smoothed the sheets, plumped the pillow and spread the sheets and blanket up, folding one corner down to make it inviting.

  When she turned back, Hank remained in the middle of the floor, down vest still on but his jeans jumbled around his ankles. His naked legs were muscular and hairy. J
ust the way she liked them. A real man had legs like that. She shut her eyes for a split second, gathering her resolve, and took two steps toward him.

  “What?” She stared him in the eyes, setting her jaw in the face of his inability or refusal to undress himself.

  “I need help,” he said.

  “I bet you do.”

  A gleam flickered in his foggy eyes. “I’m stuck.” He looked down at his jeans.

  She looked down too and saw the erection bulging under his gray, jersey boxer-briefs.

  “Do you ever take off that damn hat?”

  Before she had time to think, Hank removed her cowboy hat, flinging it to the floor. He loosened the wool scarf, making eye-contact and pleading with his gaze before stripping off it and then her leather jacket. He grabbed her, pulling her toward him and kissing her hard on the lips.

  His kiss tasted of bourbon. He had a strong grip for being so drunk, and she couldn’t escape his embrace. Or maybe she didn’t want to. Confusion clouded Raylynn’s brain as she reacted to the kiss in a positive way. She responded. She kissed him back. His lips softened and his tongue explored her mouth. Hers explored his.

  How long had it been since she’d been kissed? How long had she placed a barrier around herself, not letting anyone in, including Chip, the band member who wanted to date her?

  The agony of her own arousal surprised her. It was pure animal attraction. Mare to stallion. She reveled in her desire. She was human after all, not a frigid recluse as she had come to fear.

  Hank drew her nearer. She felt his erection. His mouth began to work over hers and then his lips descended on her neck. He reached up and tangled his fingers in her hair. He took a step.

  And they both toppled over onto the cold, tile floor.

  “Ooph!”

  She landed hard, knocking the wind from her lungs and the sense back into her head. “Get off me!”

  “Ray, let me love you. Tonight. Let me show you how much I love you.”

  She struggled beneath him. “You stupid, little boy! Get off me!”