Hunter stared at the ceiling and fought the urge to pull on some clothes and haul ass back to Jenna’s place. The taste of her lingered on his lips, and no amount of evidence, no matter how promising, could distract him.
He’d found a viable lead. The local Ace Hardware store carried the exact lock from the game cam, but they sold very few. So few in fact that it wouldn’t be hard for Bucky Ambrose, the store’s owner, to track all the purchases over the past year.
Not tonight, of course. Bucky and his woman were playing poker with two other couples and he certainly wasn’t going to bail just to help out Hunter. But tomorrow … He would get on it first thing Friday morning and turn over a list of names of all the people who’d purchased the lock since he’d started carrying it.
In the meantime, Hunter could do nothing but wait. And think. And want.
Fuck.
He threw off the sheet and climbed out of bed. It was just past midnight and the night was dark. Quiet. If he’d been farther away from the main hub of town. But he’d taken a place just down the street from the station, directly across from the Dairy Queen. The place was just closing their drive-thru and so the lights were still on, a few cars still left in the parking lot.
He pulled the drapes on the front bedroom window closed and turned to pull on a T-shirt and jeans. A few minutes later, he grabbed his keys and headed for the pickup truck that sat in the driveway next to his regulation SUV. The truck was old. Worn. Hell, he should have gotten rid of it ages ago, but it still ran pretty good and, well, he hadn’t gotten around to placing an ad so the Chevy still sat in the same spot.
A few clicks and the engine turned over. He gave it some gas and listened to the motor grumble and sputter back to life. Shifting into Reverse, he backed out of the drive and pulled out onto the street. Ten minutes later, he was speeding down the nearest farm road, headed past the city limits. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just knew he needed to drive.
Until he stopped thinking about Jenna.
Wanting her.
Needless to say, an hour later he was still behind the wheel, still running from his demons, still wanting her.
He fixed his gaze on the road, but in his mind’s eye, he saw Jenna.
Her face flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips parted on a moan. She was open and trembling in front of him, the scent of her sweet sex so potent and ripe in his nostrils, her soft pink folds glistening in the moonlight.
Hunger knifed through him and he shifted on the seat to give his hard-on more room. Right. He was damn near bursting and there was no relief in sight.
Working at the button of his jeans, he slid the waistband open and shoved his zipper down. His erection bobbed forward, pushing against the soft cotton of his boxer briefs. Fingertips grazed the hard bulge and a gasp caught on his lips.
He wanted her, all right, more than he’d ever wanted any woman.
And she wanted him. That’s what his gut told him, but damned if she wasn’t resisting.
She was trying to clean up her image, to change, just as he’d tried so long ago, and she didn’t want to want a man like him. He couldn’t blame her. That creek ran both ways. She was the worst type of woman in the world, one who called to his baser instincts, who reminded him of how good it felt to be so bad.
Sex, he reminded himself. This was all about sex and the all-important fact that he hadn’t really done the deed in a long time. It made sense that he would be losing his freakin’ mind at this point.
All he needed was to cut loose for a few hours. Just drive somewhere, pick up someone, and stick his cock so deep he stopped thinking about anyone and anything except busting a nut. Just once.
There was a bar on the outskirts of Austin that he’d frequented back in the day. He could drive over and bam, problem solved.
But instead of driving straight and hitting the main interstate, he found himself out by the rodeo arena.
The place was still lit with a handful of stragglers trying to get in a few more precious hours of practice. Hunter pulled into a parking spot and crossed the gravel lot until he reached the main corral.
He spent the next hour watching the cowboys work the bucking broncs. They weren’t very good, but he had to give them an A for effort. Particularly when it came to Hell Raiser. The horse was brutal, bucking and kicking and nearly giving one of the men a concussion.
But then that was the point.
For the horse to throw such a fit that only the roughest, toughest cowboy could survive atop him.
Hunter had been that cowboy once upon a time. He’d been riding his way up the ladder, winning a few purses here and there, hoping for a break that would take him straight to the professional circuit.
But his brother had died before he’d hit a major rodeo and so he’d given up his dream and straightened up his act by settling down and getting a real job.
He eyed the animal, the lather covering the mane, the gleaming hind legs, the power packed into such a ferocious package.
He could practically feel the heat beneath him, the strength, the desire.
He ducked his head into a nearby watering trough and held himself under until his lungs burned as badly as the rest of his body. He came up sputtering, gasping for air. The coolness dribbled down his neck and shoulders and drip-dropped onto his heated skin.
But it did nothing to cool his body temperature. He was too wired. Too damned hot.
Before he knew what was happening, he found himself perched on the corral fence, the horse standing idly nearby. So calm and deceiving.
As if she wouldn’t throw a fit the second she felt his weight on her back.
“Sheriff?” The voice caught him just before he slid down into the corral and crossed the distance to the animal. “Is that you?”
He turned to see Buzz Trayhill Sawyer standing nearby. He was the trainer in charge of the bucking horses. A nice guy in his midforties. He’d been just starting out as a hand back when Hunter had been riding, and now he took care of every bronc to come through the arena.
“Hey, there.” Hunter gave him a wave. “How’s it going?”
“Not too bad. What are you doing out here?” He frowned. “Is everything all right? Jack and Larry aren’t fighting again?” Jack and Larry were two local riders who routinely went at it to the point that the authorities were called and Hunter had to come out and settle yet another Tucker/Sawyer dispute.
“No, no. This isn’t an official call. I was driving by and just thought I’d stop in and see if everything was okay.”
“We’re doing fine. Got a rodeo tomorrow night so the cowboys are putting in a few late hours to make sure they qualify.” He waved a hand at the nearby men. “I don’t need to tell you. I’m sure you remember how that is.”
He did now. He’d locked all those feelings away and ignored them for the most part until Jenna Tucker had stirred him up and made him feel so restless inside.
Anxious.
Desperate.
Buzz smiled. “Want to take a ride?” He pointed to Hell Raiser. “For old time’s sake?”
His hands itched and it was all he could do not to hit the dust and make his way to the horse. “I’ll pass,” he managed, climbing down off the railing until he stood on the outside of the fence. “I need to head back. See you later.”
“See ya, Sheriff.”
Hunter passed by the watering trough and ignored the urge to duck his head under again and douse the thoughts burning him up from the inside out.
The restlessness.
No amount of water was going to cool the fire that burned inside of him. There was only one cure for that and as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew he was going to have to do something about it.
He needed to have sex.
And he needed it fast.