Can't Hardly Breathe (The Original Heartbreakers #4)

“Only crazy people like hail, but sane people wish for a snowquakenado blizzard?” The incongruity of her statement somehow eased the tension inside him. “Sweetheart, I’m getting mixed signals from you.” In more ways than one.

Another giggle, and hell! He wished she had stayed quiet; the sound of her good humor only enchanted him more. “If everything goes as predicted, the sun will show up in about an hour and the storm will move on.” She opened the door and stepped outside, saying over her shoulder, “You’ll be safe here, so there’s no reason to worry.”

Who was this girl? “I’m not worried.”

She’d wanted to be a meteorologist but had dropped out of school after getting married. He wondered why.

He wondered about every detail of her life, and it disconcerted him. Curiosity had never before factored into his romantic pursuits, but the more he learned about Thea, the less he realized he actually knew.

Daniel carried Princess to the front door and peered out the glass, watching as Thea spoke into her phone, wind whipping around her, rain soaking her hair and plastering her scrubs to her skin. Her nipples were hard.

A sense of possession riveted him in place, invaded his blood, his bones.

Secret or not, she’s mine. No other man will have her.

He walked away before he gave in to the temptation to join her outside. He could wait for their date to make his move. Barely.





CHAPTER EIGHT

WHAT THE HECK was going on?

Yesterday Dorothea had woken up with no way to create her first theme room and zero dates. Now she had a theme room in the works and three dates. Three! Daniel, Brett the vet and John, Holly’s teacher.

John had texted her about an hour ago. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the parent-teacher conference. Or sister-teacher conference LOL :) It would be an honor to take you to dinner on Sunday. Any interest?

She responded with, Dinner would be lovely.

A totally suave answer, breezy rather than flabbergasted. Meanwhile she’d had a panic attack on the inside. He likes me, and he can’t stop thinking about me. He’s clearly insane! No, no. He’s smart, and he has good taste. I’ve got a good heart, remember? And I have prospects. But I just agreed to go on a date with him, which means I just agreed to talk to him with food stuck in my teeth, because that is totally going to happen!

Brett had called about twenty minutes after John texted. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve got going with Daniel Porter—”

“Nothing,” she’d assured him in a rush, ignoring the twist of...something dark in her gut.

“Good. How about dinner on Sunday?”

For the first time in her life she’d gotten to say, “I just made plans with someone else.” What were the rules for dating multiple people? Was she supposed to tell Brett who she’d made plans with? “How about dinner on Saturday?”

“Great,” he’d said. “I’ll text you Saturday morning with details.”

At that point, she’d almost canceled on Daniel. Two men? Alert the presses, she was a wanted woman. Three men? She was a glutton.

In the end, she’d let things stand. A deal was a deal. Three dates with Daniel meant three weeks of free labor. Only a fool would pass up such a delicious—uh, advantageous opportunity.

She spent the next half hour on the phone with Harlow, planning the murals and exchanging ideas, and her excitement skyrocketed. The four seasons theme room would be better than she’d ever dreamed. And so would her love life!

Tonight would be a dress rehearsal for the other, more important, dates.

She’d go all-out and scale back as needed.

With that in mind, she donned her most feminine outfit: a white baby doll dress with lace straps and a lace trim that ended just above her knees. Her once-treasured wedding “gown,” special only for sentimental reasons. It had been the best she could afford the day she and Jazz eloped. For her feet, she selected ballerina slippers with ribbons that crisscrossed up her calves.

Both items were completely nonsensical, maybe even out of fashion, okay, definitely out of fashion, but so what? She’d never been a trendsetter.

I am who I am, and Brett and John like me anyway. What an amazing day!

She considered painting her nails with the glittery white polish Daniel had given her. Problem was, he would consider it a sign she wanted to sleep with him. She did, but she wouldn’t. Then she toyed with the idea of painting her nails solid yellow, Daniel’s favorite color. But again, he would consider it a sign. She selected a pale gold to represent her nervousness. What? Gold could pass as orange. Just because the color resembled Daniel’s eyes, well, that meant nothing.

Her cell phone buzzed, Holly’s face appearing on the screen, and she hurried to answer.

“I’m going to the city with friends,” her sister said in lieu of a greeting. Laughter rang out in the background.

“What are—” Dorothea began.

Click.

“—you guys going to do in the city?” she finished lamely.

She sighed and stuffed her cell in the pocket of her dress. At least her sister had deigned to call and tell her. But still, the rift between them had widened, no doubt about it, and Dorothea hadn’t yet come up with a plan to build a bridge.

Not going to worry about it. Not tonight.

As she’d proved, time was the difference between despair and glee, zero dates and three...the death of a relationship and the start of a new one.

*

WITH HER HEAD HIGH, Dorothea strolled into the Scratching Post. Her heart raced, and perspiration dampened her palms. Through a thick veil of smoke, she saw a sizable crowd congregated at the bar. Wednesday wasn’t really a let’s-party night, but Ryanne was on duty, hustling to fill drink orders, and the guys couldn’t get enough of her.

Dorothea noticed a man she’d met but had never truly conversed with—Brock Hudson. He was heavily tattooed and pierced in several places, his dark hair shaved military short, the shadow of a beard darkening his jaw. A woman perched on either side of his lap, making him the picture of debauchery. Though he smiled at one, then the other, he seemed more aware of his surroundings than his companions.

It was a trait Daniel shared.

Brock stubbed out a cigarette, and she grimaced. At least he’d used an ashtray. Daniel used to smoke outside the inn. But he hadn’t done so the last few times he’d stayed, she realized now. Had he quit?

A blond man gave her a thumbs-up. She recognized him but couldn’t remember his name. Yet another man whistled at her, and her head lifted a little higher. There was no sign of Daniel, but then, she’d gotten here fifteen minutes early and he’d had errands. He’d driven to the city to buy material for the theme room, as promised; afterward he would be taking Princess to his dad’s.

His devotion to the little dog astounded Dorothea. And okay, okay, it made her chest throb with feminine appreciation.

Thou shalt treat others with kindness.