Heat Wave - Real Heat Book 2

Chapter one

When I'd known him as a sixteen-year-old, his hair had been long and unruly, snaking down to his collar and forever in his face. Now, it was a carefully sculpted haven of dark blond swirls and spikes, crying out for someone to rake their fingers through its soft surface. His eyes were older, much older, a darker brown than I'd remembered in my dreams. If I'd walked past him on the street, I wouldn't have recognised him.

But his voice ... that laidback Southern accent. Immediately, it took me back to lazy days of lying under summer night skies and riding across freshly harvested fields.

He spoke again. 'Maddie. Oh my Lord.'

'Tanner!' I stood as he took the stairs two at a time. 'What are you doing here?'

He reached my step and wrapped me in his arms, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. I melted into him, his fresh scent flooding my head as he swung me in a circle. 'My girl! Goddamn, I've missed you. I never thought I'd see you again, not in a million years.'

Unexpected tears rushed to my eyes as I pressed my face into his chest, not willing to break the embrace yet. 'Tanner. I can't believe it. Oh my God.'

We stood holding each other for a long minute, our bodies connected, remembering how it used to be. Finally, Tanner drew back just far enough to stare into my face. 'Hey! No tears, Maddie-girl.' He raised his calloused thumb and wiped the tracks from my cheeks. 'The last time I saw these pretty blue eyes, they were crying because of me. I can't bear to see it again.'

'Happy tears,' I promised, reluctantly dropping my arms and stepping back to a socially acceptable distance. 'How did you know it was me?'

He shrugged, kicking a pointy-toed boot, which made me inwardly grin. My farmhand is still in there somewhere. 'Would you think me a fool if I told you every time I see a girl with dark hair sitting all on her lonesome, I think of you?'

Flushing with joy, I replied, 'Not at all.' I'd thought of Tanner with frightening regularity for my entire adult life. I squeezed him on the arm to check he was really there and not a figment of my lonely imagination. 'This is surreal!'

He laughed, the same old Tanner bellow that made my insides light up. 'Tell me about it. Hey, can I buy you a drink? I'd love to catch up on old times. Unless you're waiting for someone?'

I was only a little embarrassed to admit, 'I'm not waiting for anyone at all. I'd love to.'

He offered me his arm and I slid my hand through the loop, fitting easily against him as if we'd never been apart. Growing up, I'd always been the awkward tall girl—I'd been all limbs, like a baby deer and just as uncoordinated. I'd hunched and slunk my way through most of my high school years, trying to crouch down to fit in.

But when my dad moved us over to Texas and I met Tanner, I finally stood tall. With his towering height, I felt like we matched, two lanky teens standing over the world together.

But we weren't teens anymore, and Tanner was no longer a gangly kid; he was a beautiful, broad-shouldered man, with biceps rolling under the material of his sweater, and what looked to be the ripples of a six-pack hiding on his belly. Being by his side, I not only didn't feel ridiculously tall—I felt secure and at home.

We stepped carefully down the stairs, our feet in time. 'So, do you know any good spots for a drink?' he asked.

'Um ... the Opera Bar is pretty good.' I'd only left there an hour before; a girl I'd worked with a few years ago had invited me out for her birthday. Being she-with-the-empty-wallet, I'd drunk water all night and watched Becca swan around the room, fluttering between her friends and colleagues, her loving husband by her side.