Free Redneck Romeo: A Red Hot Valentine Story by Randi Alexander Page A

“I…my father died five
months ago.”
    He dropped his arms to his sides. “My condolences.” His
voice carried sympathy and his brows drew together. She had to be confusing
him.
    “All his things were put into a storage locker. I just came
back to San Antonio to sort through everything.”
    He nodded once and tipped his head slightly, as if to say, “ Get
on with it .”
    She gestured to the locked box she’d set on the counter. “I
found this among his things, and wanted to return it to you. To your family,”
she quickly amended. If he ever figured out who she was, she didn’t want him to
think she’d come here just for him. Although, seeing him again excited her more
than she’d expected.
    Nick turned and looked at the box. “Thank you.” He picked up
the envelope that held the card she’d written, but hadn’t signed.
    This would have been done anonymously if those damn hounds
hadn’t pinned her down and alerted their owner. While he stood in profile, she
let her gaze wander down to where his perfect ass filled out his jeans. All those
hours riding horses. “Mm.” It just slipped out.
    He jerked his head and caught her staring at his butt.
    She tugged at her hair again then dropped her hand. She
hadn’t been this nervous since her first day teaching last fall. “I put it in a
safety box, just in case you had kids in the house.”
    He shook his head once. “No kids.”
    “Wife?” She bit her tongue. Where the heck had that come
from?
    He lifted a brow. “No wife. No girlfriend.” The corner of
his mouth curved up slightly. “Anything else you’d like to know about me?” He
didn’t wait for an answer, but tipped up the box and looked at the combination
lock.
    She took a step toward him. “The code is your dad’s
birthday. I wrote that in the note too, instead of the numbers, just in case
your kids, you know. But since—”
    He swung toward her, his brow furrowed. “How do you know my
father’s birthday?” The words snapped from his mouth as he set the box back on
the counter.
    She took a breath. She could either lie and get out of here
clean—without giving him her name—or she could tell the truth and suffer the
embarrassment of Nick having proof of what her father had done eleven years
ago.
    He waited silently but Genevieve could sense his keen
interest in her explanation.
    Selfishly, she wanted him to remember her. Wanted him to
recall their first kiss down by the lake that hot July day. And the second,
third, and fourth kisses as they spent the summer falling in love as only
teenagers could. “My father worked here as the foreman.”
    Nick’s body stiffened, his green eyes went wide as he looked
into her blue ones. She knew the moment he recognized her. His hands came
forward. “Jellybean?” He took her shoulders and looked down at her with
surprise in his gaze and a smile on his face. “Is it really you?”
    A bubble of emotion slid up her throat and burned wet behind
her eyes. “You remember me?”
    “How could I forget. Jellybean Riley.” He said his pet name
for her as if it were a prayer.
    She covered the burst of sentimentality with laughter. “I go
by Genny now, but yes, it’s me.”
    “Aw jeez.” He looked like he didn’t know what to do next.
Then he pulled her in for a crushing hug.
    Her chest warmed as her heart thumped wildly. She wrapped
her arms around him and squeezed right back, as if the tightness could wipe
away the years she’d spent missing him. “Nick.”
    He pulled back to look at her, brushed his knuckles across
her cheek, along her jaw, and rested it on her neck. “God, I missed you.” His
gaze moved over her features. “How did I not recognize you right away? You’re
right here.”
    She touched the back of his hand as it rested on her neck.
“Eleven years older, six inches taller, about fifty pounds heavier.”
    “Jeez, you look great.” His gaze traveled down her shirt,
slowing at her breasts, then moved to her hips and her legs below