Archive for August 7th, 2018

Teaser Tuesday ~ Risky Pleasures

Tuesday, August 7th, 2018

After years of attraction, is it worth the risk?

Delicia Wright is an EMT in her hometown of McKingley, New Mexico. A confident young woman who could handle anything life threw at her, or so she believed. How conveniently she forgot the one man in town who could turn her into a babbling idiot. He was a hard man to forget, but she managed to put him in the back of her mind, along with all her fantasies of the two of them.

Archer Bennett is a through and through blue-collar man who has callouses on his hands and—most of the time—grease under his nails. He knows hard work. Unfortunately for him, the woman he desires above all else was born with a silver spoon in her mouth and to some of her family he would always be ‘the boy from the wrong side of the tracks’. So for now, all he can do is observe her from a distance.

When the opportunity arises he makes known his attraction to her and is ecstatic to know she feels the same. But with interfering family and a past that seems destined to return and bite him, can Archer convince her the best pleasures are risky pleasures?

****

Delicia Wright kept her breathing even as she pounded along the trail. The early spring air helped her stay cool and, given the low humidity in New Mexico, the sweat dried almost immediately. A swift glance to the watch on her right wrist told her she was on pace with her self-imposed time. Seven more miles to go. Come on, we can do this, she gave herself the usual pep talk. The upbeat music of The Black Eyed Peas played in her ears as she continued the remainder of her fifteen mile run. She could feel her body begin to tremble with exhaustion.

Suck it up, Delicia. If you wanted easy, we wouldn’t be training for a triathlon.

She lost herself in the rhythmic feel of her feet stomping along the hard-packed dirt trail. Tired, hot and sweating, she checked her time when she reached the end of her run. Hands on her hips, she walked herself around to cool her body down. This was her year to do better. She’d trained harder than ever before, going farther than the actual triathlon would be.

It was three months away. And I’m ready. A satisfied smile turned up her lips as she moved to her bike. She entered the combination before unfastening the cable from where it secured her bike to the tree then stowed it before slowly straddling the bicycle. Delicia fastened her helmet and sighed. She pulled her water bottle from the back of her jersey, drank some then placed the container on the bike.

“Time to get home for a shower. And some food.”

She removed one ear bud to hear traffic. Foot on the pedal, she pressed on it and looked up when a large truck drove by, then backed up to turn in the entrance to the pull off for the trailhead. She stared at the vehicle when it pulled before her. A white quad cab Dodge Dually. Shit!

The passenger window lowered and she found herself staring at a man who’d always made her feel like a babbling idiot. Archer Bennett. Country music poured from the cab and she fought off a shiver when he dipped his head to the side, exposing those damnable indigo eyes of his from behind his dark brown hair. Not black like a lot of people thought—it was just very dark brown.

Delicia hadn’t any clue why he affected her this way. It was just how it was.

“Mornin’, Delicia,” he said, in that unhurried way of his which never failed to make her toes curl and skin tingle.

Dah-lish-a was how it sounded—damn near X-rated coming from his mouth. Almost everyone else called her Lis. Not him. The rare times they ran into each other and he would speak to her, it was Delicia.

“Archer,” she replied.

He remained silent while his gaze travelled over her sweaty body. Before she knew what had happened, he stood before her. Six feet tall, hard muscular body, dark brown hair and those blue eyes. His torn jeans moulded to his legs and he wore a white shirt, which only amplified his tannedned skin and the strength of his upper body.

“Come on,” he uttered.

She stared at his hand. Long, strong fingers, short, square nails. Swallowing, she looked back up at him.

“What?”

“You look like you’re about to fall over. I’m giving you a ride home. Now either get off the bike or I’ll remove you from it.”

A thousand things ran through her mind to say. She should protest. She should stay on the bike just to have him put his hands upon her. But she didn’t. With a nod, she got off the bicycle and removed her helmet. Archer stepped forward, effortlessly lifted it and carefully placed it in the bed of his truck. Then he took the helmet and dropped it in there as well.