Catching Her Heart Read online

  “That dog... what didn’t she do?” Ashley blows out a breath. “She dug up my flowers beds. Tore the cushions off my patio furniture, and chewed up my clothes not worth mentioning.”

  “Not worth mentioning?” I ask, trying to figure out what she means.

  “You know... unmentionables.”

  “Then why did you mention it?”

  “Oh my gosh. Panties, Ryan. The dang dog went into my dirty laundry, and she chewed up five pairs of panties.”

  I can’t stop myself from laughing. “That’s damn funny.”

  “Only because she didn’t eat your panties.”

  “Honey, if she’d been eating my panties, we would be having a whole other conversation right now.”

  Ashley huffs. “Fine. If Gunner had eaten your man panties, you’d be pissed.”

  “I don’t wear man panties, either.”

  “You know what I mean, Ryan Shea Turner,” she growls into the phone.

  Yeah, I do, but I can’t resist teasing her a little more, especially since she’s going all Southern on me. Only my momma calls me by my full name, and that’s only when she’s pissed.

  “I don’t wear anything at all under my jeans, sweetness.”

  She whimpers. Before I can check to see if she’s truly upset at my making light of the destruction Bluebelle caused, my dick gets hard. So much for working out my sexual frustrations.

  “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” I say.

  “I know you’re trying to be funny and sexy, but it’s my turn to host book club. Today. Like in four hours. I need to impress these women, because I recommended a romance novel instead of literary fiction about a woman getting cheated on then learning to cook vegan dishes or something in order to find her chi. They kinda turned up their noses at it. Everything needs to be perfect, but now it’s not, and I can’t get ahold of my brothers.” She sounds on the verge of tears. Frustrated tears.

  Damn it.

  “What about your dad?” I can go help her, but she hasn’t asked for my help. She has her pride, just like I do.

  “He’s on a cruise with my momma. My brothers are at work, so I can’t bother them either.” She sighs thickly. “I need to let you go. I have so much to do, and no one to help me.”

  There’s my opening. Just as I open my mouth to say I’ll be right over to help, she hangs up on me.

  “Shit,” I mutter.

  Chapter 12

  Ashley

  Taking a deep breath, I survey the damage Bluebelle caused and consider where I’ll start first. The cushions have to be replaced—an easy fix. Although, I don’t know if that pattern is still available.

  However, the yard... topsoil’s everywhere. Flowers are strewn about lifelessly in haphazard piles. The dang dog dug up almost everything. In fact, now I can take a moment, I realize just how much damage Bluebelle caused.

  Glancing at the dirt-covered dog, I frown. “You’ve been so good. I don’t know why you’d do this to me.”

  Bluebelle hangs her head, and my heart flips. While I’m upset, I can’t stay angry over things that can be fixed. Bluebelle hasn’t actually hurt anyone.

  The doorbell rings.

  I dust my hands off on my formerly pristine white capris pants. The matching boatneck blue-and-white-striped shirt hasn’t fared much better. My hair half hangs in my face, and I’m sweating instead of glistening like a Southern woman should.

  An ominous crack makes me wince and wobble, then hop the rest of the way to the door. I answer it, half stooped over and clutching at the broken heel of my shoe to find Ryan on the other side.

  One part of me practically melts while the other wants to hobble off the other direction, because looking like what the dog dragged around the yard is not my idea of how to answer the door.

  “What can I do to help?” he asks.

  I almost hug him right then and there for not commenting on my appearance. Instead, I shove my hair out of my face and say, “Everything.”

  “First things first. Do you have any crazy glue?” He steps inside, closes the door, and then helps me to the couch.

  “In my office. There’s a box marked art supplies.” Why in the world does he need my crazy glue? Does he think he can glue my cushions back together?

  “Stay right there.” He strides away, down my hall.

  I hear him rummaging around. When he returns less than a minute later, with the glue in his hand, I can’t help but ask, “What are you going to do with that?”

  He kneels on the floor, then takes my shoe. “This.” Then he squirts glue on the heel, moving to push it firmly against the bottom. “In a few minutes, this very sexy shoe will be as good as new,” he says with a wink.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” Oh geez, if I wasn’t falling for him before, I really am now. First, the donation, and now he’s repairing one of my favorite heels.

  “Four sisters, remember?” His gaze rakes over me. “The glue won’t help those dirt stains. Sorry.”

  Giving him a lopsided smile, I cup the side of his face. “I’m already feeling better.”

  “I hear good-as-new shoes tend to do that to women.” His dark eyes met mine, and lashes longer and thicker than any man has a right to have slowly blinks. Gosh, I could stare at him for days.

  “Especially this woman. Shoes are one of my weaknesses.” So is he. My gaze drops to his mouth. He has soft, full lips that can turn wicked, sensual, and drive me insane.

  “You keep looking at me like that, and we won’t get a damn thing done, sweetness,” he says and I start, dropping his hand.

  My cheeks heat as I lift a shoulder and bite my lip. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I like looking at you.”

  The corner of his mouth kicks up, and he stands. “Okay if I put this on your kitchen counter?”

  Nodding, I take off my other shoe. “C’mon, I’ll show you the backyard.”

  “Is that where Bluebelle’s hiding?” he asks as he moves to the kitchen.

  I follow a moment later. “She’s in time-out.”

  “You’re not grounding her from her play date with Gunner, are you?” he asks.

  “The thought has crossed my mind,” I joke.

  He casts a look over one of his broad shoulders, and then turns to face me. “Then you’d just be punishing yourself.”

  Crossing my arms, I tilt my chin up. “Just myself?”

  Ryan moves closer, settling his hands on my hips. Despite having a fairly large kitchen, it feels tiny with him in it. Or maybe it’s his presence that takes up so much room. His head dips, and my chest rises and falls.

  He’s going to kiss me again. I want him to kiss me again. The air between us becomes shared, and I breathe in the masculine scent from him. His hair’s slightly damp, and his cheeks are smooth.

  Ryan turns his head slightly, so his breath pulses against my ear and jaw. I shiver. This is pure, delicious torture.

  “Nah, Gunner wouldn’t be too happy.” Slowly, his lips graze my cheek, his nose following the path. Once more, his hot breath is on my ear, and I feel him nibble on the lobe. “Show me the backyard,” he whispers roughly.

  I blink. “What?”

  He steps back, the color along his cheeks high and his nostrils flaring. “I came here to help you.”

  Ryan’s right. He showed up to help, not put an end to my draught or change my mind about football players. Although, he’s doing an excellent job.

  With a sniff, I let out a huff and brush past him. “Right this way, Mr. Running Back.”

  ***

  After a quick trip to the local lawn and garden supply store to buy more topsoil, flowers, and cushions, we work together in my backyard.

  I’m now currently elbow deep in my flowerbed—after changing—while Ryan shovels in topsoil.

  His dark shadow falls over me, and I look up. My mouth falls open, and the small shovel I’m holding drops with a thunk. He isn’t wearing a shirt, and his grey sweatpants hang loosely on his hips. I eye the eight-pack that g
listens in the sun, and the smattering of dark hair that covers his muscular chest and his equally muscular arms. Most lickable of all is the tattoo of an anchor on his hip.

  Oh, sweet Jesus and all the saints.

  “Why don’t you shower and change, before it gets too late? I’ll finish this up for you,” he says, holding out his hand.

  I almost knock it out the way, because the darn thing obstructs my view. But common sense tells me to take it. We’ve been working for hours, and I have to get ready to host.

  Taking his hand, I let him help me up. He brushes a finger down my nose. “You have dirt everywhere.”

  I wipe at his chest, pleased to see his stomach suck in. “So do you.”

  “Shower.”

  Taking a chance, I draw in a deep breath. “You could join me. I need some helping washing my back.”

  His eyes go wide, but before I can get too excited, he says, “Ashley, I meant what I said earlier; I’m here to help. You don’t owe me anything.”

  Embarrassment and anger collide, causing me to lash out. “I know what you’re here for! You’re here to make sure your dog can see his girlfriend, and to ease your conscience about blackmailing me into going out with you. So, thanks for saving me, once again, from making a big mistake.”

  I storm inside the house, slamming the door behind me.

  Chapter 13

  Ryan

  Irritated as fuck, I finish planting the last of the flowers and place all the supplies in Ashley’s storage shed. I’m not mad at her or even her sweet dog. I’m mad at myself. It’s like I can’t help the dumbass things that come out of my mouth, all in the name of putting her first.

  Bluebelle trots up to me from her spot in the shade, then licks my hand. With a smile, I kneel to rub her neck.

  “How ya doing, girl?” I ask. “Thirsty?”

  The dog wags her tail and I lead her inside, filling up her bowl with more fresh water and setting it on the floor.

  I can hear the shower running. I can imagine Ashley in it, her hot little body all soap and wet. I can picture the suds running down her neck and over her breasts to drip from her nipples.

  Groaning, I bend over the counter and try to get my shit together.

  She’s right. I’m trying to ease my conscience about blackmailing her. No matter what she says to me, all I can think about is how I got her to go out with me in the first place.

  But she forgave me for all that. She practically threw herself at me, when I know how much she doesn’t trust football players. Dean did a number on her, yet she’s taking a chance on me.

  I rub a hand over the back of my neck, then straighten, cursing myself for a fool.

  Ashley’s a woman with her own mind. She invited me to join her in the shower. And by God, I’m going to join her.

  I jog down the hallway to her bedroom, then open the bathroom door. Steam billows, but I can clearly see her through the glass shower.

  “Ryan?” Ashley asks, her eyes wide with surprise.

  “Yeah,” I say, stripping to my bare ass quickly, then opening the door. “Still need someone to wash your back?”

  “Yes, and... I’m sorry for snapping at you. You didn’t deserve it.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about. I simply helped out my woman and then came in here to finish helping her with more pressing needs.”

  “Okay.” Visibly swallowing, her gaze rakes the length of me, pausing more than once at my cock.

  I grab it, my mouth quirking at the corner. “See anything you like?”

  Grabbing me by the arm, she pulls me inside the shower and shuts the door. “Keep doing that,” she murmurs.

  Squeezing the head, I lean back and close my eyes with a groan. “You like watching?”

  “I like participating,” is all she says before I feel her drop and her hot mouth wraps around the tip.

  “Fuck,” I growl, letting go of my dick and shoving my hands into her wet hair. I have to make myself hold still. I have to make myself thrust my hips forward, so I can send my erection down her throat.

  She lets the tip fall out, but before I can voice my protest, she takes me in her mouth again. This time, she swallows half my length.

  “Can you take more, sweetness?” I ask.

  Dark blue eyes gaze up at me. Pretty pink lips are wrapped around my cock. I’m going to die right here.

  “You can do it.” I carefully thrust my hips forward. “For me, baby.”

  Her eyes close as she pulls back, then slides forward again. Over and over she does this, until she nearly swallows me whole. I fist my hands in her hair, gauging her reaction before I start pumping into her mouth.

  If she doesn’t like it, if she makes any little sound that remotely sounds like pain, then I’ll stop.

  I widen my stance, the suction of her hot, wet mouth making my legs shake. Her tongue gets in on the action. Every now and then, she licks the entire length of me.

  “Doing so damn good, baby.”

  When she cups my balls, I let out a hoarse shout. She works me over like no one ever has before with her talented mouth and hands. Only years of training and forced delayed gratification keeps me from exploding in her mouth.

  “Gotta come,” I grunt, trying to pull away.

  She digs her hands into my ass, staying with me.

  Until the end.

  Until my legs are jelly and my knees are about to give out on me.

  Ashley stands with a Cheshire grin on her face. “Ready to wash my back now?”

  “I’ll wash any damn thing you want.” I soap up her back, her sweet little ass, and her perky breasts. When I’m finished rinsing her off, I get on my knees and make good on my promise to put my mouth between her thighs.

  She screams my name so loudly Bluebelle comes running to check on us.

  “Tell her you’re okay,” I order, kissing my way up her stomach to her breasts. She has nice nipples. Pale pink and perfect for my mouth.

  I roll my tongue around one.

  “I-I’m ffff-fine, Bluebelle,” she manages to say.

  “That’s a good girl.” I suck the tight little bud into my mouth before paying lots of attention to the other one. “Perfect, Ashley. Perfect.”

  Her hands tunnel through my hair, holding me close. “You’re too good to be true,” she says softly.

  Chapter 14

  Ashley

  We stay in the shower until the water runs cold and my lips feel like they are turning blue.

  Ryan wraps me in a towel, then rubs his hands briskly up and down my arms. Kissing my nose, he says, “Yard’s done.”

  So am I. All I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep. “Thank you.”

  He glances at the clock on my cell. “You have exactly fifty-three minutes to finish getting ready.”

  I let out a squeal. “Oh crap. I have to finish decorating my dining room table and setting out the food.”

  “Want me to take care of that?” he asks, his dark eyes serious as he pulls on his sweatpants—sans boxer briefs.

  “No... you’ve already done enough,” I say, feeling suddenly shy.

  “Are we still on for Friday?”

  I tilt my head to one side. “Did you just do all that in the shower so I’d be more agreeable to letting Bluebelle and Gunner play?”

  “No, ma’am,” he says in slow drawl that gives me goose bumps. “I did all of that to hear you scream my name.”

  My cheeks heat. “Well, then. Bluebelle and I would be delighted to join y’all.”

  He grins and then crosses the small distance between us, capturing me in a hug. “Afterward, I thought you and I could have a playdate of our own.”

  Once again, my heart does a little tumble and flip, like it has a gymnastics routine only he inspires. “I’d like that.”

  Giving me one last slow kiss, he says, “I’ll get out of your hair now, and let you finish things up.”

  “See you Friday,” I call as he turns to walk away.

  “Gunner and I wil
l meet you there, if you don’t mind,” he says, pausing at the bathroom door.

  “Nope.” Feeling a bit silly over how giddy I am, I say, “You can let yourself out.”

  His dark gaze rakes over me, making me feel like my towel is see-through. “You make me want to stay longer.”

  “But I’ll go,” he adds, and leaves the room.

  I sag against the wall. Bluebelle comes trotting inside, tail wagging. “I hope you thanked Ryan for getting you free of time-out. He worked hard to change my mind.”

  Bluebelle lets out a little woof of thanks.

  “Exactly, girl,” I say before heading to my closet.

  ***

  Two days later, I find myself getting the third degree over supper at my brother’s house.

  Rhett’s mouth thins. “Another football player?”

  I refuse to be intimidated by his disapproval. Okay, so Rhett isn’t disappointed; he’s just concerned. “He’s not like Dean.”

  “I hate to break it to you, Ash, but every player is like Dean.”

  I place my fork on the side of my plate, then wipe my mouth. “Unfair, Rhett. That would be like me telling you to never go out with another woman because they’re all like Jenny.”

  Rhett narrows his blue eyes. “Thanks for bringing up bad memories, sis. Such a pleasure to have you over for dinner.”

  I throw my napkin at him. “Oh, be quiet.”

  My brother grins. “I almost had you convinced, huh?”

  That he’s over what his long-term girlfriend did to him? Over Jenny saying she couldn’t handle being with a guy who came back from the war different?

  Yeah... There’s no way Rhett will ever convince me that he’s over that.

  “Almost,” I say lightly.

  Rhett takes his plate, then heads for the sink. “When do we get to meet your new boyfriend?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” I rub my temples, not wanting to get into this with him.

  “Oh hell,” my brother mutters. “You haven’t turned into one of those people, have you?”

  I wrinkle my nose. “One of those people?”

  “The ‘our relationship isn’t defined by labels’ people.”