“Finally? Seriously?” Rylie nearly dropped the phone onto the kitchen floor in mock surprise.
“I know, I know.” The excitement in Skylar’s voice was unmistakable. “We know it’s late for a reception, but we got married so fast in such a small ceremony; it’s time to celebrate with all of our friends.”
Rylie relaxed against a counter, unable to stop grinning. Skylar sounded so giddy and happy. “So when? Where?”
“We haven’t decided on a place or day yet. I just wanted to know you’d be on board. It wouldn’t be a party unless you showed up.” Rylie was sure she heard Zack in the background, murmuring something like “Party with me. I’m the desperado.”
Rylie pulled her pocketknife from her jeans and flicked it open and closed. Open and closed. “Honey, if it’s a party, you know I’ll be there. It’s just... I still can’t get used to the idea that you’re married.”
“Zack. Not now.” Skylar giggled and Rylie rolled her eyes, imagining the sickly sweet, almost-newlywed crap going on at the other end of the line. “I know what you mean,” Skylar continued into the phone, “I keep thinking I’ll get used to it too, but so far it’s still one giant head-rush.”
Even though she was dead-set against marriage, Rylie crammed her pocketknife in her jeans and tried to muster up joy for her friend who sounded so happy, and put a smile in her voice. “Tell that cowboy he’d better take good care of you, or I’ll kick his ass.”
“I’ll let him know.” Laughter bubbled up from Skylar. “What do you think about our having the reception next Saturday? We could have a barbeque and dance here at the ranch. Trinity will already be gone, but I think the timing would work for everybody else.”
“Sounds perfect.” Rylie held the phone with one hand and tugged at her earlobe with her other as she did her best to put some enthusiasm into her voice. “And don’t worry about me and all my rules against marriage. You know I wouldn’t miss it. I’d never let you down, Skylar.”
“Great. Be here at noon.” Skylar sighed, a sound of contentment. She was so damn happy that Rylie couldn’t help but feel pleasure for her friend. “What’s new with you, sweet pea?”
Rylie’s body warmed at the mere thought of the sheriff.
“I’m going out tomorrow night with Clay Wayland,” she said aloud.
“The sheriff?” Skylar’s voice perked up. “I’ve met him—talk about one hell of a sexy man. I just knew you’d find him hot. Promise to give me all the juicy details.”
“Don’t I always?” Rylie’s smile was wistful. Their night-long girl gabfests had come to an abrupt end with Skylar’s getting shackled. She didn’t see them cranking back up anytime soon. That’s what marriage did to a person. Isolated them. Took them away from their friends and family. It started out all sweetness, but it would end with yelling and distance and pain.
After they said their good-byes, Rylie punched the phone off and set it on the countertop.
Married. What the hell had Skylar been thinking when she eloped last October? Rylie shook her head. It had been good to hear Skylar’s excitement all these months, but Rylie just hoped her friend had made the right decision and would be happy next year and the year after that. Skylar deserved that and more.
But as far as Rylie was concerned, marriage was a mistake she was damn sure she would never make. Happily ever after was a long damned time, and till-death-us-do-part, that was too much to even consider.
She did her best to shake off the trapped feeling she got whenever she thought about marriage, then headed out to saddle Sass for a quick ride of the ranch boundaries.
Less than half an hour later, she and Sass moved along the fence line, blue sky stretching endlessly above them and wavy thick grass shimmering in a hot breeze. The day smelled like fertile ground, leather, and horse, and that was fine by Rylie. Riding was the ultimate freedom, and riding her own stretch, land that she’d worked and suffered for—nothing beat that.
Except maybe wild sex with a certain larger-than-life sheriff...
Rylie sighed and gave Sass’s reins a gentle tug, turning toward the back quarter of the ranch. She so didn’t need to go there, back to obsessing about Clay, but it was hard to avoid. The ranch’s farthest corner at the base of the Chiricahua Mountains seemed so peaceful and quiet she didn’t have much to keep her mind anywhere else.
Sass’s hooves made soft clop-clops on thy dirt path as Rylie scanned the fencing, looking for holes or tears. So far, nothing. She hadn’t even seen any tracks in the dirt that didn’t belong.
She rounded another corner, the hot breeze making its way over her face—
Rylie pulled Sass to a halt, and sat ramrod straight in her saddle.
She sniffed the air again, just to be sure she hadn’t imagined the smell that snapped her back to full alert.
There it was. A fruity, almost bitter scent. A man’s cologne, expensive, but jarring. Unpleasant.
Rylie squinted, searching the shadows around nearby brush and trees. She knew that smell. She remembered it. Before she could get hold of herself, images rushed at her, grabbing her mind and forcing her heart to full gallop.
Hands grabbing her...
Reggie’s toothy leer as he held her down in the backseat of that putrid old car...
Torn leather digging into her shoulders, her arms as she fought him...
“You’re gonna enjoy this, bitch. You’ve been asking for it…”
Rylie swore and ripped herself out of the past. Her fingertips flew to her cheek, which was somehow stinging from the slap Reggie gave her all those years ago. He’d ripped off her shirt, yanked down her pants, and he was working on getting his jeans off when Levi showed up.
Her heart thundered even as she reminded herself it wasn’t much of a fight after that. Levi had snatched the little bastard off her and thrown him down. Reggie, proving he was stupid on top of being an asshole, got up, and then Levi really took him down. Punched him so hard Reggie probably heard little birdies tweeting in his brain for a month or two. The jerk lost a tooth, got his jaw broken, and had to eat soup through a straw for a long, long time.
Levi never should have been charged for hitting the creep. Everything got sorted out soon enough, though, and Rylie had felt even safer when Reggie pulled up stakes and left town after graduation.
Safe. Until now.
Rylie glanced around again, trying to squash the frantic worry making her muscles go tense. She hadn’t imagined that smell, and she’d never known anybody but Reggie to blow that much money on cologne that turned to skunk oil the second he slathered it on in the morning.
She sniffed the air again and smelled nothing. The woods seemed as quiet and empty as ever, except—
Rylie’s skin prickled all over, and her breath caught.
She felt eyes on her, somebody watching.
“Get a grip,” she whispered to herself, but Sass snorted and danced. “Whoa, girl. Easy there.”
The horse tugged her head against Rylie’s grip, wanting rein to run, wanting to charge straight home, back to the safety of the barn and the ranch house and the hands, and somewhere on his own rounds, Levi.
This was stupid. She had a bad case of the shivers, and now she’d given them to Sass. Rylie got pissed at herself, which helped the panic until bushes rustled in the distance.
Enough. Enough!
She gave Sass the rein the horse wanted, and the Appaloosa whirled and bolted back the way they had come. Rylie ducked low to miss branches and gripped the horse hard with her calves. She kept one hand in Sass’s mane and the other tight on the reins and her saddle horn. She refused to let the horse run wild, made her control the gallop—but she let Sass run. Wanted her to run.
They broke into open ground a minute or so later. Hot air blasted into Rylie’s face, and sunlight flowed across her face, her eyes, turning the entire world yellow. She couldn’t smell Reggie anymore, didn’t feel that sense of being stared at, but her heart was pounding harder than Sass’s hooves and she couldn’t slow it down.
Another few seconds and she got enough sanity back to bring Sass to a trot before the mare worked up a lather. It was too hot for this kind of crap. What kind of idiot was she being?
The barn came into view, and Rylie felt twice as stupid for flipping out over nothing. She pulled Sass back again, bringing the horse to a fast walk. Somebody was riding out to meet her, and he was coming so hard his Stetson blew off and bounced across the grass. He didn’t even slow down.
Levi. She could tell by the set of his shoulders and the way he controlled his horse. Nobody could ride like her brother.
It’s okay, the teenage part of her brain babbled. Levi is here. Everything will be fine now.
“Dammit.” Rylie reined Sass and swung down from her saddle, ground-tying the mare by dropping the leather straps to the dusty trail. She let out a big breath, almost as big as the horse’s long, exasperated blow Sass gave her. “I do not need Levi or any other man to feel safe. I can take care of myself.”
And she could. She’d been doing just that since she was out of high school. So why did she feel sixteen again, vulnerable and pinned, helpless against whatever was about to happen?
Levi reached her, reined, and dismounted in one fluid motion. “Ry, what the hell? You were riding like the devil himself was on your ass.”
“I— Never mind.” She tried to focus on Levi’s blond hair, how it was mussed and hanging in his face, making him look like a kid again. “I just got spooked.”
Levi frowned and looked twice as worried. “You don’t spook.” He glanced in the direction she’d come from. “What’s back there?” Rylie rolled her eyes at her own idiocy and tried to show Levi she was okay by smiling. It probably came off tense, so she added, “Nothing. Really. I thought I smelled some cheap cologne. It reminded me of Reggie, that’s all.”
Levi’s face darkened to a deep maroon that made Rylie’s nerves jitter. Levi had control of his awful temper now that he was older, of the bad anger genes their non-sainted father had given him. Special Forces and his work with the U.S. Marshals had taught him to manage the constant waves of rage that had driven their father to drinking and womanizing. Still, every now and then, Rylie could see shadows of the demons Levi battled, and she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he ever turned all that rage loose.
When Levi spoke again, his voice was low and grating. “Reggie Parker’s still in Las Vegas.”
Rylie’s jitters shifted to surprise. She put a hand on her hip and stared into her brother’s bluer than blue eyes. “You’re keeping tabs on him? How? You don’t work for the Marshals anymore.”
“I have friends. They’ll let me know if he’s on the move—at least as soon as they know.”
Rylie had no doubt Levi would be checking in with his buddies the instant he had a moment alone. Her big brother. He still had her back, no matter what. She approached him, tentative because he was glaring over her shoulder, studying the area behind her.
“It’s probably nothing. Just a bad memory, or maybe Guerrero trying to give me the willies since I yelled at him on his own home turf.”
Okay, that didn’t help. Levi turned impossibly redder in the face. “You did what?”
“Did I forget to mention that?” Rylie heard the goofy nervousness in her own laugh and hated it. She’d never show this side of her to anybody but Levi. “I called him Francis. And accused him of being a crime lord, an asshole, and—oh, yeah—a bad crime lord since he claimed not to know what was happening to the trucks in Douglas.”
For a few seconds, Levi tried to talk, but he just kept opening and closing his mouth. Then he just shook his head and stared at the cloudless sky. “There just aren’t any words to describe you when you get on a roll.”
“I can think of one. ‘Bitch’ would do nicely. Ask Guerrero. I’m sure he’d agree.” Rylie patted her brother on the arm. “Come on. I only got half the boundary checked. Go with me to do the other half.”
Levi walked straight to his horse and mounted, muttering, “Damn straight. I’m thinking I need to keep a much closer eye on you.”
***
Clay tossed the manila folder onto his cluttered wooden desk and settled back in his chair. A frown creased his face as he stared out the glass window of his office and into the busy control room of the county sheriff’s department.
He was having a hell of a time getting his mind on the job. He disliked the paperwork end of being sheriff, preferring fieldwork, so he delegated what office duties he could, but sometimes, there was nothing for it, especially when he had nothing but greenhorns and goof-offs in the office with him. The papers just had to be filled out.
Papers about truck thefts and interrupted truck thefts.
Thoughts of what he wanted to do with Rylie Thorn sure beat the heck out of signing dozens of documents or trying to catch a gang of thieves.
He remembered how she’d come storming into his office, her eyes blazing and how she’d laid into Deputy Quinn, then later, into Francisco Guerrero, as if the man couldn’t snap his manicured fingers and have her throat slit on the spot. She’d looked so damn fiery and sexy that Clay had just stood and watched her carry on for at least a minute or two.
“Sheriff?” Quinn’s voice cut into Clay’s thoughts, forcing him back to the truck thefts at hand.
He glanced from his desktop to the dark-haired deputy who stood in the open doorway of his office. “Yeah?”
Quinn stepped into the room and hooked his thumbs in his front pockets. The armpits of his tan uniform were sweat-soaked, and perspiration coated the man’s upper lip. “Another ranch got hit last night. They knocked out the man on guard and got three trucks.”
“Damn.” Clay slammed his hand on his desk and stood so abruptly he knocked his chair over, its thump like an exclamation point to his frustration. “This has been going on for two months. And that’s two months too long.”
“Uh-huh.” Quinn’s gaze dropped to the manila folder on Clay’s desk. “What’s your opinion on the Guerrero connection now that you’ve had a chance to think it over?”
Clay reached for the file and flipped it open. “Plenty likely, but no evidence against him or any of his known associates. Luke Denver, the MacKenna foreman, found some holes in his fence, his and Wade Larson’s.” Clay ran his finger down the page. “No vehicle tracks, no human tracks. Makes sense that they’d go out the way they came in and beat it for the border, especially if Guerrero was behind the operation, but since our contacts and informants are pretty sure they aren’t crossing near here with the trucks... well, with Guerrero’s auto dealerships, I suppose they could zip the vehicles straight to a local chop shop.”
Stroking his hand over his mustache, Clay thought out loud, “I can go talk to Guerrero again. Doubt I’ll get anything fresh or new. This may not even be his game.”
“What about Levi Thorn?”
Clay’s gaze shot up to meet Quinn’s blue eyes, which seemed unusually steady and focused. “What about him?”
Quinn shrugged. “Blalock and I have been looking into the desperate-for-cash possibilities, people in the area who are hard up for money. Levi’s been short on funds for a while. The Thorn Ranch is in the red, so he has motive to earn a little money on the side. And he seems to have a bunch of money all of a sudden even though all those trucks just went missing from their spread. I hear he just about bought out Lowe’s yesterday—ordered a huge bunch of lumber.”
Frowning, Clay closed the manila folder. “Anything else?”
“A lady friend of mine works at the bank in Douglas.” The deputy shifted and folded his arms across his chest. “She said Thorn got himself a safety deposit box, and he made a big deposit this morning. A good chunk of change. No way insurance paid off that fast on the stolen Thorn trucks.”
With a sigh, Clay scrubbed his hand over his mustache. “Get a warrant for the box, but keep it quiet. See what you can dig up—but don’t limit your investigation to him, not just yet. Everybody in this area’s hurting. There’s any number of people who could have gotten desperate enough to try to make a quick buck.” When the deputy left his office, Clay righted his chair and sank into it. If Rylie’s brother ended up being a suspect, that sure put a damper on things. Hell, Rylie could be involved for all Clay knew—the Thorn Ranch was half hers, and he had an instinct she’d go to the mat and even die fighting before she let that property go down the drain.
But his gut told him otherwise, and unless his lust for her was screwing with his instinct, he was sure she was innocent. Levi Thorn, on the other hand, could very well be in the mess well past the crown of his Stetson.
***
The sound of a truck driving up to the ranch house jerked Rylie’s heart into full gear. She dodged into her bedroom, chiding herself for being excited about a date. It had been years since she’d been nervous about going out, but there was something about Clay that made her body tingle just thinking about the man.
Rylie smoothed her short jean skirt as she checked her reflection in the mirror. She picked denim to commemorate what she was wearing when Clay first touched her, and she’d chosen a hot pink strapless top that bared her flat belly and slender shoulders.
She pushed her blond hair behind her ears and put a touch of gloss on her lips. A knock sounded at the door at the same time she spritzed on her vanilla musk cologne. After grabbing her jean jacket, she hurried to the door, only to see Levi walking in with Clay.
Her pulse skyrocketed at the sight of Clay, who was wearing a snug shirt that showed his cut physique to perfection and tight Wranglers that molded his muscular thighs—and that showed a promising bulge.
Levi frowned, took off his Stetson, and tossed it onto the hat rack, then ran his fingers through his blond hair. “You didn’t tell me you had a date with the sheriff, Ry.”
“Since when do I tell you about any of my dates?” She looked past Levi and smiled at Clay. “Hey there.”
“Hey yourself.” Clay touched the brim of his Stetson and smiled at Rylie.
“I’m gonna grab myself some eats.” Levi nodded toward the kitchen, a tired, irritated look in his eyes. “Catch you later.”
As Levi vanished into the kitchen, Clay murmured, “You look like spring come early.”
She returned his smile with a sassy toss of her head, letting her gaze rake over him. Her voice was husky as she met his eyes. “I’d say you look like a real good reason to come... early.”
A growl practically rumbled from his chest, and his green eyes darkened from crystal to almost jade. “Let’s go.”
Rylie slipped on her jacket and headed out the front door as Clay held it open for her. The cool night smelled clean and crisp, the sky clear with stars spattered across its expanse.
“You’ve got a choice to make,” he said as they walked to the black truck parked out front.
She paused in front of the passenger door and looked up at him. “I told you, yes.”
“This one’s not a simple yes or no.” He smiled and reached up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’d like to take you to dinner. The choice is, we can go to a nice place and hope for a quiet evening with no interruptions. Problem is, I can’t seem to go out into public anymore without someone coming up and wanting to give me their opinion on one thing or another. You need to know that it’s a real possibility.”
Rylie leaned in toward him, enjoying his spicy male scent. “And choice number two?”
“Dinner at my place.” His hand slid into her hair and he caressed her scalp. “Just the two of us.”
“That’s a no-brainer.” She rose up on her toes and brushed her lips over his. “Let’s go to your place.”
Ten miles to his ranch. Clay wasn’t sure he could do it. His hands and eyes wanted to wander straight to Rylie. The way her clothes hugged every curve, it nearly killed him. He’d been able to tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he’d almost bet that she didn’t have on any panties, either. She had taken his dare. Damn, did he want to find that out for sure.
Instead of copping a feel, he kept his hands glued to the steering wheel as they’d talked about everything from the weather to what he’d done before he became sheriff. Whenever he tried to steer the conversation around to her, Rylie managed to evade his questions. As though she didn’t like talking about herself... or maybe she had something to hide?
He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he guided the truck from the highway, up the short dirt road, and then parked in front of his home.
“Nice,” Rylie murmured, peering at the house through the starlit night. “What I can see of it, anyway.”
Clay opened his door and walked around to help Rylie, only she was out of the truck before he made it to her side. He took her hand and led her to the house, enjoying the feel of her fingers twined with his.
He unlocked the front door and let her in, then closing it behind them. “How does steak sound?” he asked as he flipped on the track lighting.
“As long as it’s medium rare, I’ll love it.”
“Done.” He took off his Western hat and tossed it onto the back of a recliner, then raked his fingers through his hair.
Rylie slid off her jean jacket and laid it next to his hat as she glanced around the living room that was done in Western decor from oxblood-brown leather sofas and chairs to end tables made from knotty pine. Bookcases along one wall were filled with novels on the American West, along with tales by Zane Grey, Louis L’Amour, and other Western authors.
“For a bachelor, you have great taste.” She moved to one end table and touched the bronze statue of a bucking bronco doing its best to unseat its rider.
Clay’s mouth watered as he watched Rylie trail her fingers down the statue. He cleared his throat and came to stand beside her. “My youngest sister’s into decorating and insisted that a sheriff needs appropriate digs.”
“It suits you.” Rylie tilted her head up and looked at him, her lips slightly parted, her chocolate eyes focused on him. “Rough... untamed... and utterly male.” The desire in her gaze slammed into him like a fist to his gut. Before he even had a chance to act on his instinct, she moved into his arms and wrapped her arm around his neck.
“I don’t know what you do to me,” she murmured. “I barely know you, but all I can think about is sex when I’m near you.”
“You make it real hard to think about anything else.” Clay pulled her body tight against his and fisted his hands under her jean skirt. His fingers slid along her bare ass as he discovered she was wearing nothing underneath, just as he’d dared her to do. A groan rumbled from his chest, and he throbbed with scalding need to be buried inside Rylie’s core.
She reached up and flicked her tongue over his bottom lip and then gently nipped it. Damn, but the sensation was erotic. He’d never had a woman bite his lip before, and he couldn’t believe what it did to him.
Unable to stand her sweet torture any longer, Clay crushed his mouth against hers, devouring her, filling himself with her sweet taste. Rylie’s tongue met his, her kiss as hard and demanding as his own.
He raised her skirt to her waist, then grabbed her ass, lifting her up and pressing her bare flesh against his erection. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clamping him tight as her hands clenched in his hair and they ravaged each other’s mouth.
Rylie couldn’t believe how wild she was for this man. She needed to feel his naked skin next to hers, to feel him sliding into her.
“I want you, Clay.” Her voice was husky as she pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Now.”
“Damn, Rylie.” Clay moved his lips to her neck and she gasped at the sensual feel of his mustache along her throat. “I’ve never met a woman like you.”
With her legs still wrapped around him, he walked to an overstuffed chair near a fireplace. He set her down, her naked ass on the cool leather of the chair, her skirt hiked up to her waist. As he knelt between her thighs, she kicked off her shoes and spread her legs.
“I want you naked.” Rylie reached for him, but he captured both her wrists in one of his big hands.
He gave her a sexy grin that sent tingles straight through her belly and made her absolutely wild for him. “I need a little appetizer first.” With her wrists held in one of his hands, he pinned them over her head while pressing closer to her. His masculine scent filled her senses, driving her crazy, making her want him so badly that she wriggled and moaned.
With his free hand, Clay reached up and tugged on her strapless top, pulling it down to see her small breasts and pert nipples. “Mmmm. Beautiful,” he murmured before lowering his head and licking one of her diamond-hard nubs.
Rylie gasped, her back arching up as feral sensations coursed through her body. She struggled to free her hands as Clay suckled first one nipple, then the other. His mustache brushed across her sensitized skin and she could swear she was going to come just from the sensation of his mouth, lips, and mustache on her breasts. The feel of her skirt and top around her waist, with the leather of the chair against her bared skin, was incredible.
“Let me touch you.” She clamped her knees around his waist, locking her ankles behind his back and pressing his jean-clad crotch tighter to her sex.
“You enjoy watching people.” He kissed a trail from her breasts to her neck as he spoke. “I’ll bet you’d like to be tied up.”
“God, yes.” Rylie moaned at him, saying one of her fantasies aloud, and she knew she couldn’t wait another moment to have him inside her.
“Such a wild little thing.” Clay lowered her arms, but didn’t release her wrists. Instead he kept a hold on them as he eased down. She smelled the scent of her juices as he widened her legs further and ran his tongue along the inside of her thighs.
“Dammit, Clay!” Rylie squirmed, dying for him to give her a little mercy. To do anything to bring her some relief. She’d never wanted anything as bad as she wanted Clay inside her.
“You like it fast and hard, don’t you?” His tongue moved closer to where she wanted him to go. “Slow and easy drives you crazy, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, you bastard.” Rylie clenched her teeth and arched her back up off the chair. “Now quit making me wait.”
Clay chuckled, the feel of his warm breath against her skin almost enough to send her over the pinnacle. “I was right that you shave.” He ran his tongue up her smooth skin and she cried out from the feel of it. “And you’re gorgeous.”
Rylie was about to yell at him again when he pressed his mouth tight to her folds. He plunged his finger inside her, thrusting it in and out of her as he licked and sucked, driving her completely insane. She fought against his hold on her wrists, wanting to clench her hands in his hair, but at the same time totally turned-on by being held prisoner to his will.
Her climax hit her so hard that she shrieked and clamped her knees tight around his head. “Stop,” she begged as aftershock upon aftershock wracked her body. “I can’t take any more.”
But Clay didn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, until she reached climax again. And then again.