Once a Rebel. Sheri WhiteFeather

meant to tell him that she’d stopped by to ask him about Cathy, but suddenly she couldn’t think beyond his body, beyond his half-naked appeal.

      He gestured for her to enter the cabin. She walked inside and took a deep breath.

      When he closed the door, she noticed a tattoo on his shoulder. Two horseshoes and a star branding his flesh. “When did you do that?”

      He turned to face her. “Do what?”

      “The ink.”

      “Five years ago. For luck, when I turned thirty.” He gave her a half-cocked smile. “I’ll probably do it again when I turn forty.”

      “On the other shoulder?”

      “I haven’t decided.” He grabbed a shirt that was draped over the sofa. “Do you have any hidden artwork I should know about?”

      “Like a pirate ship on my chest? No, I can’t say that I do.”

      “I was thinking more along the lines of a rose on your thigh.” He slipped on the shirt, but didn’t button it. A grin slid across his face. “Or maybe a butterfly on your sweet little—”

      She raised her eyebrows at him. Ethan Eldridge had turned into a dark and daring man. “You missed your chance to see my butt.”

      “Don’t remind me how stupid I was.” He paused and his expression turned serious. “Do you want to have dinner with me tonight?”

      The change of topic threw her off-kilter. She blinked, reminding herself that she’d arrived at his house to ask him about Cathy.

      “We can go to Red,” he said.

      Red? The restaurant where his ex-girlfriend worked? “When?”

      “In a few minutes. I just have to finish getting dressed.”

      “Sounds good. I haven’t eaten yet.” She decided she would ask him about Cathy over dinner. And maybe, if Amber was working, she would get a glimpse of the woman she supposedly resembled.

      Even if Amber was prettier.

      She sat on the sofa while Ethan got ready. He buttoned his shirt in front of her, but turned his back to unzip his jeans and tuck in his shirttail. A belt came next. She could hear the clank of the buckle.

      She didn’t think he was as modest as he seemed. He’d probably done it out of respect to her.

      Finally, he walked over to an oak armoire and removed a pair of socks from the single drawer. The cabin didn’t have a bedroom, and she shifted on the sofa, realizing she was sitting on his bed.

      He reached for his boots and sat next to her, pulling them on. His dark brown hair, she noticed, had yet to dry. He wore it short and just a little messy. His temples bore fine threads of gray, barely visible, but still a testament of time, of the years that had passed.

      “Don’t wear a hat,” she said.

      He made a face. “Why not?”

      “I like how you look without it.” And she didn’t want him to hide beneath the brim.

      He ran a hand through his hair, trying, it seemed, to tame it. But his finger combing didn’t make much of a difference. “I feel naked.”

      But he wasn’t, she thought. He was fully clothed now. “I heard that hats make men go bald.”

      “Then I’d really be naked.” He gave his Stetson or Resistol or whatever it was a longing glance. “This bites.”

      She smiled, knowing she’d won. “Maybe I’ll kiss you tonight.”

      His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Really?”

      “On the cheek.”

      “Tease.” He stood and offered to help her up.

      She accepted his hand and his sense of humor. His eyes were twinkling, as blue as the sea, as the sky, as every poetic description she could think of.

      A moment later, they took his truck and left for the restaurant in companionable silence.

      Red was a converted two-story hacienda brimming with charm. The first floor served as the eatery, with dark wood tables and terra-cotta tiles. Leafy plants and dim lighting offered a cozy atmosphere.

      Susan and Ethan sat at a candle-steeped table, and from her vantage point, Susan could see the courtyard where paper lanterns were strung, like leftover holiday lights bouncing off red umbrellas.

      The waitress, a friendly brunette, brought them their menus, took their drink orders and departed with a swish of her flouncing uniform. Susan glanced around. Amber, she assumed, was blond.

      “The combination platters are really good,” Ethan said.

      Susan quit scouting the room and scanned the menu instead. Not a blonde in sight. “Everything looks good.”

      “Yeah. I’m starving.” After a busboy delivered their drinks and placed a basket of chips and a bowl of salsa on the table, Ethan dived into them. “I eat out a lot. It’s a hassle to cook for myself.”

      “For me, too.” She pondered over a beef burrito or a chicken enchilada, then gave in to her curiosity. “Did you meet Amber here?”

      “Yep.” He said it casually, reaching for another chip. “She was separated from her husband and going through a rough time.”

      “And you helped her?”

      “Oh, sure.” He laughed a little. “I helped her come to the conclusion that she was still in love with her husband.”

      Susan dipped into the salsa, waking up her taste buds. “I guess she isn’t working tonight.”

      “Not tonight or any other night. She doesn’t work here anymore.” He frowned at her. “Did you think I picked this place because of her? I don’t play those kinds of games.”

      “I didn’t see it as a game. Besides, I heard that we look alike.”

      “Who? You and Amber?” He sat back in his chair, the frown digging deeper into his skin. “Who told you that?”

      “Cathy.”

      “Cathy?”

      “The teenager whose mom used to babysit Amber’s son.”

      “Oh, that Cathy. The kid who sneaks cigarettes. I’ll bet she got to you.”

      “Yes, she did. In fact, she’s the reason I came to see you. But first I want to know if what she said is true.”

      He gave her a point-blank stare. “Why? Is it some sort of crime for me to sleep with petite blondes?”

      “So we do look alike.”

      “Not enough to mix you up. And I didn’t even recognize you when I first saw you.”

      Which meant that Amber looked more like the way she used to look. Longer hair, darker makeup, sexier clothes. “It could be a Freudian crime.”

      He broke into a smile. “Then you should cure me. Take me to bed or something.”

      “Nice try.” She smiled, too, but her pulse was tripping like an acid-dropping hippie. Even the flame on the candle was jumping.

      The waitress came by to take their food order. Suddenly Susan was glad the other woman was a brunette. It was foolish to feel that way, but she couldn’t help it. She was getting territorial about Ethan.

      By the time their meals arrived, she almost convinced herself that she should sleep with him. Almost. But somewhere in the recesses of her brain, she knew an affair would do spongy things to her heart. In spite of her teenage track record, sex had never been casual. For Susan, it came with a price. An emotional price, where attachments were formed, where she needed her partners to care, even the boys who’d passed her around like candy.