Page 2 of Feels Like the First Time
When he got no response in return, Hawk accepted his fate and pushed through the unlocked door. Only instead of finding one of his night staff huddled in the corner with his kegs, he found his thief standing over his missing metal canisters in a pair of combat boots, a welder’s mask pulled low, and a blowtorch in hand.
A lit blowtorch.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hollered as the red flame closed in on one of the kegs.
Ali’s head lifted in his direction, and from behind the mask he could feel the narrowing of those intense green eyes. The blowtorch flickered twice in warning.
Hawk jumped back right before the heat would have singed his chest hairs—and other, more crucial, parts. But that wasn’t what had him stepping back. Ali had spent the better part of the past decade threatening to roast his nuts, so that was nothing new. What was new, was the silky green strapless number that hugged her curves and showed off those toned legs that had his mind racing.
Ali either wore coveralls or denim, always black and always with aBite meattitude that left men panting or praying for their lives. Men who weren’t named Hawk, that is.
Not only had he known Ali when she was a pierced-nosed teen, but she was also his sister-in-law. Well, she had been before Hawk’s wife, Bridget, traded him in for a newer, shinier model. He’d lost the ball when Bridget kept yanking his chain, but kept the kid sister.
Although she didn’t look like a kid in that dress. Which in no way excused the sharp jolt of awareness that was anything but brotherly. Something else he’d been trying to overcome as of late.
“One mark on my keg and I’ll post a photo of you in that dress on my timeline,” Hawk said, folding his arms across his chest—making damn sure his eyes didn’t stray below the chin.
The blowtorch flickered out and she flipped her mask up—and yup, those emerald eyes were skewering him. “Yourkegs. Huh?” She set the blowtorch on the table and took off her work gloves. “Funny, since they were sitting onmyside of the easement.”
“You mean the easement that is onmyproperty, giving you and your customers access to your side of the parking lot?”
“My latest customer wanted a garden fountain made from kegs. How was I to know that those weren’t for me?”
“I don’t know, maybe by the Two Bad Apples logo on the side of each and every keg,” he said, taking in the nearly finished fountain, confirming, first off, that Ali was one hell of an artist. And second, making it clear exactly where his other kegs had disappeared to. “If that wasn’t clear enough, then the other ninety-seven sitting in my loading dock should have been a clue.”
She smiled, all smugness and attitude. “Right. I guess I can see that now. Next time you might consider keeping them on your side of the easement to avoid any confusion. Or perhaps post a sign there for folks to see. Kind of like thePARKING FOR STEEL MAGNOLIA’S CUSTOMERS ONLYsigns your bar patrons continue to ignore.”
Ali took off her mask and set it on the work bench, leaving her in just her boots and that dress. Those chocolate brown curls of hers, once released, tumbled down to brush her bare shoulders and frame that expressive face.
God, she was stunning. How had he never noticed that before?
“Hawk?” she asked in that self-conscious tone that always got to him. So, when she crossed her arms in front of her, a clear sign she was picking up on vibes he’d tried to keep in check, he locked his focus on her face, even though he knew her current stance must be doing incredible things for her cleavage. “What are you staring at?”
“You’re soldering in a dress.” He waved his hand as if put out over having to explain the obvious. When, in fact, he couldn’t stop staring at her in that dress. “I was just checking to make sure you hadn’t burned yourself.”
“It’s just a dress,” she said, acting coy, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. But for whatever reason, Ali in that dress was extraordinary. It was also a sign that something was up. And unlike his patrons, he refused to ignore that sign.
“It’s not just a dress, and you know it.”
“Says the man breaking and entering in his skivvies,” she snapped, confirming something was up. “And really, do you have to wave your stick around all the time? As your friend, it’s my duty to tell you it’s getting a little embarrassing. I mean, most of the town has already seen it.”
She punctuated the wordfriend, yet strangely enough, she was looking at him as if he were a sculpture she couldn’t wait to get her hands on. Or rip out his throat.
Either way, that look overrode the F-word he was coming to hate.
Hawk casually swung his hockey stick in his trademarkwinning goalmotion, tightening his abs and flexing his biceps. “Some ladies out front were begging to hold it.”
Ali rolled her eyes, but not before Hawk noticed her breath quicken. “Tell Fi she can buy a bigger one online for twenty bucks. Now if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”
“Have at it,” Hawk said, and then, he had no idea what came over him. Maybe it was the uncertainty in her gaze, or maybe it was that sexy as hell dress. He snatched her cell off the workbench and, flipping it to camera mode, snapped a picture.
Ali’s face went slack. She looked down at the light green silk that would be the talk of the town, and launched around the workbench, grabbing for her phone. Which Hawk held over her head and out of reach.
“Give it back, Bradley,” she said, jumping up to snatch it out of his hands. But her five-feet-nothing was no match for his six-feet-three-inches of badass hockey player moves. Her elbows, though, had some serious force behind them.
“Not until you tell me what the dress is about,Aliana,” he said, purposely using her given name because he knew it irked her. When she didn’t elaborate, just locked eyes with him, he added, “One swipe and it goes viral.”
“Fine.” She poked him in the peck. Hard. “One of my pieces might be in a magazine.”
