Sweet on You (The Wilde Sisters #1) Page 6

  Their parents expected a lot from her and even though there was only a fifteen-month age difference between each girl, Sage had to grow up fast to make it in the Wilde house. There were times when their parents forgot to pick them up from school—which could be understandable if it happened on rare occasions, but it happened weekly.

  Neil provided for his girls, barely. They lived in a two-bedroom ranch style home in the middle of nowhere and were fairly self-sufficient. Rayne’s parents grew herbs, fruits, and vegetables, and raised the meat and milk they consumed from goats, chickens, and even pigs. Not much of red meat fans, the Wildes lived off their farm and rarely got into town. Not that there was much of a town. Parish Farm was a good twenty minutes northwest of Cornish, which wasn’t much more than a general store and post office. During Sage’s wild years, Rayne often covered for her, not that Suzie or Neil noticed when their eldest didn’t make it home on a Friday night. As long as the girls didn’t interfere with the farming or their parents’ life, all was fine in the Wilde home.

  Their parents had been—and still were—clueless when it came to parenting. Rayne often found herself defending her parents, chastising her sisters for misbehaving, and trying to instill a touch of family in the house.

  Rayne picked up the photograph from Trent’s mantel and smiled. The similarities between brother and sister were so striking they could pass as twins. His eyes were green to her blue, but the shape and brightness shone alike. As did their chiseled cheekbones. How the heck could she have believed Trent played for the other team? Thank God he didn’t, although that made their relationship much more complex.

  “Sorry it took me so long. The bakery called with a slight emergency.”

  “Oh, I’ll let you go then.” She put the photo back on the mantel and picked up her purse.

  “No, no. I took care of it. Just a little mess up with next week’s order. All is good.” He smiled and she resisted the urge to reach out and stroke his freshly shaven face.

  The five o’clock shadow, when he had it, made him appear like a rogue, while the clean-shaven face gave him an Abercrombie appearance. Both looks were devastating to her deserted libido.

  “You said swimming…is this okay?”

  She started with his feet, clad in leather flip-flops, and worked her way up his bare calves—not too hairy, and definitely muscled—to his long swim trunks. Navy blue with a white stripe down the side. Simple and masculine—nothing Hawaiian or flamboyant for this straight guy. Her eyes lingered on his abs. Abs she’d been fortunate enough to see a few minutes ago and would like to see again. And lick. Taste.

  Stop that! Trent Kipson was one hundred percent off limits. For some reason he agreed to go out with her while dating the bimbo model next door, and she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

  The t-shirt had seen better days, but it stretched so nicely across his wide shoulders that she didn’t give it another thought. Yummy.

  “Rayne?”

  Darn. He caught her staring. But her eyes weren’t done yet.

  “Perfect. I mean fine. You look good. Fine. Yeah, I mean, we’re just chilling and may go for a swim and—”

  “Hey.” Trent stepped closer and her heart did little flip-flops in her chest. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Pretend he’s gay! “You okay? We can do this…thing another day.”

  “No! I mean…no. I’m fine. Just a little warm. Which is why this outing is going to be so much fun!” Plastering on her fake smile, Rayne grabbed his arm and hauled him out the door before the intimate feel of his apartment caused her to do something ridiculous like blurt out her love for him and tackle him to the floor. Rayne pointed to the canoe tied down to the top of her car. “We’re going canoeing down the Saco River. Ever been?”

  “Sort of, but not really. A bunch of buddies of mine got together after high school graduation. Packed a tent, about ten coolers. Nine of them held beer. One had some meat. Needless to say, we didn’t do much canoeing. We camped out, met up with some girls, and…yeah, well. We didn’t really canoe much.”

  His cheeks turned red. So deliciously sweet and adorable. Maybe she did have a sweet tooth after all.

  ***

  Trent

  She got too much pleasure out of torturing him, that was obvious. With Rayne sitting in the front of the canoe, her tanned and toned back to him, Trent was forced to stare and drool as they paddled down the shallow river. They passed many families and a few rowdy teenagers, but mostly their excursion was mellow. After an hour or so of lust-filled mind wandering, they paddled to a sandy cove.

  “I’m hungry, so I bet you’re starved.”

  Unfortunately, Rayne pulled a black dress thing over her turquoise bikini and reached down for the cooler.

  “I’ve got it. Why don’t you grab the bag?”

  “Chauvinist,” she muttered with a smile.

  “No, a gentleman.” He winked and hefted the cooler out of the canoe. “Damn, woman. What did you pack in here?”

  “I know you have quite the appetite, so I packed a little of everything.”

  And by everything, she meant everything. Meat-filled subs, pasta salad, potato salad, fruit salad, granola bars, cheese and crackers, hummus, some other sort of healthy-looking stuff…the woman knew the way to a man’s heart. Except she didn’t pack any dessert.

  And Trent had one hell of a sweet tooth. Staring at her glistening pink lips, he thought of a very suitable replacement for dessert. They sat on a blanket under a tree, ate, and talked about other items on their bucket list. For him, skydiving, parasailing, bungee jumping. She had more tame events: climbing the Eiffel Tower, walking through the Aztec ruins, hiking the Appalachian Trail. And of course, starting a family.

  Yeah, he could totally see himself doing those things with her. Except the family part. They argued over their lists and laughed at each other’s jokes. It was too damn bad he couldn’t give Rayne what she desired.

  “No cookies?”

  “I didn’t think you’d have room after all this.”

  “Hell, I thought you knew me better than that. I always have room for dessert.”

  “You just wait. One of these days all those snacks are going to catch up to you and you’re going to be mistaken for Santa Claus,” she teased.

  “And to think I shaved this morning for you,” he said as he rubbed his cheeks.

  “I like the scruff.”

  Trent raised an eyebrow and studied her. She had no idea how sexy she was. Or that everything she said and did turned him on. “Really? Why is that?” He leaned back on his elbows and looked up at her. Tanned skin, hair that was meant to be splayed across his pillow, nervous chocolate-syrupy eyes. He itched to reach out and tuck the stray curl behind her ear, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop there.

  Rayne pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs, and stared out over the river. “You’re a nice guy, Trent.”

  “Uh, oh. I’ve heard that one before.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the moment.

  She turned to face him and gave him a sad smile. “I really like you and am glad we’re still friends after…after my um, misunderstanding.”

  His heart softened. No, it turned into a melting puddle of ganache. If he was reading the signs right, she was interested. Very interested. That could either spell trouble or hello sweet heaven. But if he turned her down, that could ruin their friendship as well. Better to evade than to disappoint.

  “Ten bucks says I’ll beat you in.”

  Clearly confused, Rayne tilted her head.

  “The water. I bet you’re a toe dipper. Gotta get used to the water slowly. I’m a head diver. No holds barred for me. Think you have it in you?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  Okay, maybe he read her wrong. He thought she was annoyed that he turned their conversation into something as ridiculous as a wager. While wondering if he should apologize for his insensitivity, she bolted up, stripped the black dress off, and ran
into the river, diving under the water before he brought himself to his feet.

  The devious brat.

  The shallow water only reached her thighs—and oh, what a sight!—and dripped off her nearly naked body that glistened in the sun. She rested her hands on her hips and yelled, “You owe me ten bucks!”

  He laughed and ran into the river, tackling her underwater with him.

  “You cheat,” he said as they came up for air.

  “How so?”

  “I never said go.”

  “Oh please.” She splashed him. “You’re such a sore loser.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are too. Now let’s pack up. We still have another hour or so until we reach the landing.” Trent followed her, stopping to appreciate how her wet bathing suit molded to her butt, her long hair dripping water down her back into no-man’s land. His gaze followed the drops as they disappeared under her suit, fantasizing about following the same path with his tongue. “Unless you’d rather swim for a bit. The shuttles come every thirty minutes, so it doesn’t really matter what time we get there.”

  They’d get picked up by a van and shuttled back to her car ten miles up the river. Some people made a weekend of it, tenting out alongside the river. Him, Rayne, sleeping bag, tent. No, not a good idea. She wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of girl and he didn’t do commitment. He didn’t do forever.

  And Rayne Wilde was a forever kind of girl.

  ***

  Rayne

  “That was fun. You’re a good sport. Now hand over my money.” Rayne held out her palm to Trent as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

  Picking up her hand, he turned it and brought her knuckles to his lips. “Will you take an IOU?”

  Red alert! Red alert! She could either cave in to his sweet caress, accidentally lean into him, and bump her lips against his, or she could pull away and act pissed that he would not make good on his bet.

  The latter won out.

  “You suffered through six Zumba classes but you can’t pay up ten dollars? Geesh. Never took you for a cheapskate. I’ll have to tell Brian about this one,” she teased.

  “You are pure evil. I thought my good looks and charm would get me out of it.” Trent scooted up in his seat and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. As he rifled through, counting out his bills, she peered over his arm and saw the ominous ring of a condom.

  Of course he carried protection with him. Trent had women falling at his feet wherever he went. He oozed testosterone and sex. But not with her. No, he made it blatantly obvious he liked her as a friend. Apparently he liked the model-thin trampy types like Katrina. Well, if that was his taste, pooh to him!

  “All I have are twenties. Do you want to owe me or want me to owe you?”

  “Here’s a deal. I need a cake for my parents’ anniversary next week. I was planning on picking one up at the grocery store—”

  Trent’s dramatic gasp startled her. “I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that again.” He shook his head in disgust. “Do you know they order their frosting in bulk in cans? Who knows what chemicals they put into those things? Come to Sweet Spot. I’ll hook you up with a cake. How big? What flavors? We can do a decadent chocolate ganache or a lighter lemon curd or—”

  “Whoa. Down boy. We’re talking about my parents, Mr. and Mrs. Granola. They’d be fine with goat’s milk on a bed of lettuce, but it’s their fortieth. I thought a cake would be nice. Nothing big and fancy. It’ll just be my sisters and Suzie and Neil. Nothing spectacular. They’d rather spend it without anyone around anyway, so it’s going to be a short and sweet dinner. Well, maybe not so sweet. Sage will have a temper tantrum and be grumbling about something and Thyme will be late, if she remembers at all.”

  “And to think I felt left out not being invited.”

  Well that was an idea. Rayne had been known to bring men to their sporadic family dinners. She’d always wanted a big table full of friends and family to talk and laugh with over a meal. Make memories. Start traditions. If Neil, Suzie, Sage, and Thyme had their way, the Wildes would never see each other, so Rayne made it her mission to bring the family together when her parents were actually around. This year it coincided with her parents’ anniversary.

  Having a man with her distracted the family, gave them something to talk about, and took the pressure off Sage’s stress and anxiety and Thyme’s unwillingness to commit to…anything. Neil had a man to talk to and Rayne would talk to Suzie about herbs and new garden trends.

  Maybe Trent would fit right in. He could talk recipes with her parents. They weren’t big on sweets either—only organically fresh food for them—but she bet they could swap a few recipes.

  “Actually, if you’re not doing anything next Saturday night, you’re more than welcome to come. Sage and Thyme will do most of the cooking at my folks’ place in Parish Hill. Feel like an adventure? You can scratch it off your bucket list.”

  “It’s not that bad, is it?”

  “Oh, just you wait and see.”

  Chapter Five

  Rayne

  The cake wasn’t ready when she stopped by Sweet Spot to pick it up. Instead, the nice woman behind the counter introduced herself as Marie, Brian’s mother, and told her to go on back. Reluctantly Rayne pushed through the swinging doors and called out to Trent.

  “Just in time.” He wiped his hands on a towel and handed her a white apron. “Tie this on. You don’t want to get your clothes messy.”

  Rayne looked down at her denim shorts and squinted. “Not really concerned about the wardrobe, Trent. I’m just picking up the cake. What did you come up with?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? Well, okay. I don’t really need it today. As long as it’s ready when I leave tomorrow—”

  “I’m not coming up with anything. You are. It’s your parents. I’ll help you with some ideas but I thought it would be pretty cool if you made the cake.”

  She snorted. “Me? I can’t bake. Stir fry, grill, sure, but I don’t do sweets. I’ve never even made cookies. Not even the kind you buy at the store with the dough in those tube things—”

  Trent covered her mouth with his finger. “Shh, we don’t talk about such things in the house of confections. That’s blasphemy.” He pulled his hand away and turned her so he could tie her apron. “I’ll guide you. All you have to do is follow orders. You can do that, right?” He spun her around and yanked on her ponytail. Such a brotherly, friendly gesture.

  She hated it.

  “Sure. Whatever. Tell me what to do,” she snarled.

  “That’s the spirit!” He gently chucked her chin with his knuckles and pushed her toward the sink. “First, wash up.”

  After listening to about fourteen thousand sugary combinations, she opted for a coconut cream cake with raspberry filling. Ever the model student, Rayne followed Trent’s directions and measured, poured, stirred, sifted, whipped, and creamed. Her arms ached after an hour of baking.

  “Why couldn’t we use one of those big mixer things?” she asked after they put the cake in the oven and the filling in the fridge. “My arms are killing me from all that beating.”

  “Sounds to me like you need a new personal trainer,” he teased.

  “Bite me,” she growled and watched his eyes darken. “You did this on purpose to torture me.”

  “Oh, stop being a baby and go wash the dishes.”

  “I don’t know why I couldn’t have given them one of the lovely cakes you have in the display case up front,” she grumbled on her way to the sink. “I’ll wash but you dry.”

  They worked together, her banging dishes around while he whistled and laughed at her grumpy mood. Only she wasn’t grumpy about the upper body workout or dish duty. She wore her favorite red halter-top. The one that made her look like she had a C cup. It showed off her shoulders and dipped a bit in the back to reveal her shoulder blades. The daisy dukes weren’t super short but she knew they did tremendous things to her booty. And Trent never let his eyes stray from
her face. Maybe the man was gay and didn’t know it yet.

  She held back a snort. As if.

  Rayne didn’t always get hit on, not in regular clothes and with a naked face, but when she put a little makeup on—just a touch of mascara and some shiny lip gloss—like she did today, and spent a few extra minutes on her hair and wardrobe, she could turn a few heads.

  And the only head she hoped to turn had no intention of looking her way. She’d give him until tomorrow, and if he didn’t put the moves on her by the end of the night, she’d body tackle him to the floor.

  ***

  Trent

  “I deserve a freakin’ award,” Trent grumbled before he took a swig from his bottle of beer.

  “No, you deserve a kick in the ass. I don’t get why you don’t throw on the infamous Kipson magic and charm her pants off.” Brian laughed.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why the hell not? You like her, right? She’s hot. She’s funny. You two seem to have a lot in common. Are you afraid you’ll fall in love or something?” Brian flipped the burgers on the grill and popped open another beer.

  Trent grabbed a handful of chips, chewed, and contemplated how much he should tell his friend. “She’s different than the women I date.”

  “No kidding,” Brian laughed. “She has a brain and a personality.”

  Rolling his eyes, he bent to scoop up Faith, using her as a shield, and patted her back. “We’re friends—”

  “Friends that—”

  “Don’t you dare say it, man. Yeah, I like her. I respect her a hell of a lot too. She’s had…relationship issues in the past.”

  “And you haven’t?”

  Trent sighed. “She tends to get emotionally attached pretty fast. Falls hard before the second date.”

  “And you’re worried she’ll fall in love with you?”