CHAPTER FOUR
Manda opened the door of her cabin. But then she forgot to breathe, and simply stared. Oh, God.
A huge man stood before her. Not only did he stand so tall and broad that he took up the entire doorway, all of him seemed to be muscle and brawn. There was little fat involved, he was all man.
He wore jeans, a green plaid Western-look shirt with a white tee under it, black belt and black motorcycle boots. But on him, this everyday clothing took on heroic dimensions.
"Uh... hey," he rumbled in a deep voice that seemed to emanate from a cave.
Her gaze flew to his face to find him examining her with the same rapt attention.
His square face was freckled and tanned, what she could see of it. His curly auburn hair sprang in ringlets that framed his forehead and fell nearly to his shoulders. His lower face was hidden behind a full, luxuriant beard and mustache the same ginger hue.
He totally rocked the lumberjack look.
She wondered what that beard and mustache would feel like against her skin. Heat flushed through her at the thought. Geez, this was just a friendly date, not a hookup. That was the last thing she needed, with the disaster her life had become.
His hazel eyes traveled up over her in an openly admiring look that left her bathed in warmth. When his scrutiny reached her face, he smiled down at her. "Damn, you're pretty," he said in that deep voice.
She giggled at the earthy frankness of his compliment, then blushed. Gah, she sounded like she was in high school, not a grown-ass woman of twenty-four. "Thank you. I'm Manda. Manda Kowitsky."
His grin widened, his eyes twinkling. "Hi, Manda, I'm T-Bear. Or you can call me T. Real nice to meet you."
She blushed harder for some reason and flapped her hand at the room behind her. "Sure. So, I'll just get my purse, and we can go, okay?" Oh, smooth, Manda. She must look like she was trying to do the chicken dance.
"You bet," he said agreeably. Yeah, he probably didn't want to hang around this place a second longer than he had to, because who would?
The Pine Cabins were essentially one room, with a tiny bathroom in one corner, a bed on one end and a saggy sofa and rickety wooden table and chairs on the other end.
Manda crossed the little room, walking carefully in the new heels, and picked up her sweater.
When she turned, his gaze was on her legs, with a heat in them that made her knees weaken. Whoa, girl. Just a date with a stranger. A hot guy, and worlds better than the lonely, socially awkward guy she'd expected, but still a stranger.
She whipped on the sweater, flipped her hair out of the collar, and picked up her purse. Then she walked back to him. "Okay, I'm ready."
He stepped back out of the doorway, revealing a pickup truck parked in front of her cabin. "Good, so am I." He gestured at the truck. "Sorry, she's an old girl, not real fancy, but she gets me around in the winter."
As he opened the passenger door for her, it creaked ominously, but inside, the bench seat had a nice cover on it. The truck smelled of pine, from the little freshener dangling from the rear-view mirror, and of the masculine scents of leather, gasoline and something else. Oh, that was him. He'd stepped in behind her to help her up. He smelled good, of clean man and a whiff of after-shave or soap.
She held onto the door and stepped up, and felt his huge hand warm on her back, steadying her. She plumped onto the bench seat with relief and smiled at him. "Made it."
He chuckled, his eyes creasing at the corners as if he smiled a lot. "That you did. Good start, right?"
Surely seemed like it to her. Not only was she getting away from the Pine Cabins for at least one evening, she was doing it with a guy who was not a weirdo or dating reject, but who seemed good-natured and totally at ease with himself.
He moved around the front of the truck with long strides, maybe not the most graceful man around but matter-of-fact. He had a lot of man to move, and he did that, surging through space with power and intent.
The truck sagged under his weight when he climbed in. He started it up, the engine rumbling to life, along with country music on the radio.
"Your truck runs good," she said. Tim had had a pickup truck for a short while, and it either refused to run, or did so in fits and starts, even though it was much newer than this one. Of course, Tim wasn't one to take care of his vehicles, or anything else.
T-Bear grinned at her as he worked the gear-shift and the steering wheel, backing up and then driving forward, out of the small lot. "That's 'cause I work on it," he told her. "I'm a grease monkey—an auto-mechanic."
She nodded. That was good, steady work. A guy with his skills would always have a job. He probably didn't even need to be a math genius to do the work. Too bad she hated being dirty, or she might try it herself. Except, parts numbers, so maybe not.
Although it was unexpected. He surely wouldn’t have women vying for his attention because he could help them get a job at an auto shop.
"So," he said as they pulled out onto the road, their headlights tracking the road as it wound through the trees. "Where you wanna eat supper?"
"Oh, I just got to town a few days ago," she told him, squeezing her purse in her lap. "So I don't know anyplace. You pick."
"Okay. You like ribs, chicken, steak?"
Any of these sounded fabulous. Her stomach chose that moment to growl, so loudly she feared he heard it over the music. She'd bought a granola bar at the grocery store, but she hadn't had a real meal all day, and not that much the day before. "Sure."
He chuckled again. "Okay, we'll go somewhere they got all those. There's a place here, the Roadhouse. I hear their food's good. They got beer, drinks, all that. It's Saturday night, they might even have live music."
"That sounds great." The decision made, her grip loosened on her purse, which was good because her fingers hurt from the pressure. Plus she was going to wreck her cute purse if she kept squeezing it.
The Roadhouse was hopping on a Saturday evening, even in mid-winter. When they pulled in, the parking lot was nearly full. Manda was surprised when he pulled up in front of the main doors, and even more shocked when he climbed out and came around to open her door and hold out his big hand to help her down. She wasn't used to this level of politeness from a guy.
"Can't have you tryin' to navigate the ice in them sexy little heels," he told her.
"Thank you." Warmth glowing inside her, Manda held out her hand to take his. His hand engulfed hers, hot and calloused and strong.
He helped her down and ushered into a small lobby. Three guys in their thirties were waiting there. They turned, their gazes hit her, then widened as they hit the man behind her. Nearly as one, they moved to one side to give Manda and T space.
"Table for two." T-Bear's deep voice filled the space as he spoke to the hostess hovering next to the 'Please Wait to Be Seated' sign. "By the fireplace, if you got one."
The young woman nodded, smiling at him. "We can do that. Ten minutes?"
"Good enough. Back in a sec," he told Manda, and went back out to his truck.
As she waited for T-Bear—his nickname made her want to giggle, because he did resemble a big, ginger bear—she alternated checking out the glass doors for him to come back and peering into the restaurant itself.
The interior was rustic, with open beam ceilings and lamps made from antlers hanging over solid, wood tables and chairs.
The patrons ranged from people dressed in their best to those in denim and leather. Talk and laughter, along with the clink of dishes and country music filled the air. The savory smell of barbecue and fried foods made Manda's stomach growl again, painfully this time.
Her date came in through the doors a moment later, filling the foyer with his big body and smile. "Ready to get our table?"
She was more than ready. She hadn’t had a solid meal in what felt like days.
They followed the perky hostess into the restaurant, past the noisy, crowded bar section with TVs flashing sports, past a big, round fireplace, with a fire burning in the center, and an empty table beside it.
Manda settled herself across from him, and slid her sweater off her arms, tucking her purse securely in her lap under the table. When she looked up, he was watching her, that look of heat in his eyes again.
"Pretty dress," he said. "I like those holes in the sleeves, although seems like that'd be kind of chilly."
She dipped her head to the side, pursing her lips in wry acknowledgment of this wisdom. "Sort of. But, fashion, you know? I guess some of it must seem silly to a man." She could feel the warmth from the fire on her arms, and it felt good.
He watched the swing of her hair. "Nah," he said instantly. "Means I get to see more skin, I'm all for it. Now summer, that's my favorite time of year. Daisy Duke cut-offs and little tops, oh yeah."
Manda grinned at him. "What do you wear in the summer to give the girls a chance to look?"
"Me?" His heavy but attractive brows went up. "Lessee, sometimes I take my shirt off. Feels great, an' makes the ladies swoon."
This time she giggled. "Swoon? You mean all like," She put the back of her hand to her forehead and drooped back in her chair. "Oh, T-Bear. You're so big and strong. I just can't take all that manliness."
He pretended to think about it, then nodded, his eyes laughing at her. "Yep. That's what happens. Sometimes they swoon right into my arms. Then I gotta give 'em mouth-to-mouth."
"That's so generous! Even the older ladies?"
He winced. "Uh...that would be a no. Man's gotta have limits."
A waitress appeared, a lean woman with silver streaks in her dark hair. She smiled at them both. "Evening. Get you folks started with some drinks?"
"Bring me a hefe, something local," T-Bear said, and looked to Manda. She stared back, her mind a blank. Should she order a beer like him, even though it would be nice to have one of the pretty cocktails on the little bi-fold menu standing to one side of their table?
"Bet you like fruity drinks," he guessed, correctly interpreting her look. "Get one o' them."
"Okay." She pointed at the cocktail pictured on the top of the menu. Pale green, it had a spear of luscious fruit and a tiny umbrella leaning jauntily to one side of the glass. "That one, please."
"A Piña-Rita?" the waitress said. "Good choice. Those are real popular. Any hors d'oeuvre?"
Manda's empty stomach clenched. Yes, please.
"Yeah," her date said, as if he'd read her mind. "Bring us one o' them mixed plates. And I'll double your tip if you get it to us fast, 'cause I'm a hungry man."
The waitress winked at him. "I see that. There's a lot of man to fill up. Be right back with those drinks."
When she walked away, Manda leaned forward. "Now you wouldn't let her hit the ground in a swoon, would you?"
"Nah, but she's nice. She's gonna bring us food—and beer. An' a whatch-ama-Rita for you."
"A Piña-Rita. I think that means part Piña Colada, part Margarita?" She shrugged.
He peered at the drink menu. "Sure is a pretty color. I can see why you gals like 'em."
"Would you drink one?" she asked, smiling as she waited to see if he'd shudder and look disgusted.
But T shrugged easily. "Sure, if I was at the lake on a nice, hot evening. And maybe the pretty gal with me was drinking 'em too. Might make a real nice dessert."
"Because beer with your food, and sweet after," she said, nodding. This was typical of guys.
"Damn straight I like sweet after." He winked at her, and then fiddled with the little menu, turning it over. He grinned again, and with one large, knobby finger indicated a golden drink in a martini glass, with something sprinkled on top. "Now here's the one you should be drinkin'."
"Oh. Why?"
He grinned. "Cause, see there, it's the same color as you and your little dress."
Manda peered at the menu. "The Golden Girl," she read aloud. "Made with real honey and topped with crystallized honey."
"That's right. An' in that dress, with your hair, you look like you been all dipped in and sprinkled with honey."
Heat spread over her face, and down her throat. She stared at the cocktail menu, too shy to look him in the eye after this outrageously sweet compliment. "Thank you."