Kiersten’s pistol hung cold and heavy in her right hand, her cellphone jammed in the pocket of hastily pulled on jeans.
She stood inside her locked front door, more freaked out by the second. Damn Trayce. What was he up to now?
Her evening with Cleve had been planned to the smallest detail, and she’d been waiting outside on her porch swing for him, covered with a quilt she’d made the first year she wintered alone. Candles burned inside, a dinner she’d made him waited in the oven. A six pack of Bud Light for him chilled in the fridge. Snuggled under the heavy cover, she’d rocked and imagined the look on his face when he saw her filmy negligee. She’d figured they’d have a very late dinner.
Oscar had snuffled along the ground past the deck, kicking dirt behind him, as the sun moved lower in the western sky.
A motor had brought her gaze to the driveway. Cleve. Finally.
It wasn’t Cleve’s truck, but Trayce’s.
She’d raced inside with the quilt wrapped around her, locking doors and windows. As Trayce stepped down from his lifted truck with huge knobby tires, she’d yanked curtains shut in her room and dialed Cleve. Only after she’d placed the call and loaded her gun had she dressed.
Now she stood clutching her weapon, waiting. Strange to have a neighbor to call, and even stranger that she’d called him. And she’d phoned him first when she felt endangered. Complex. Too complex to address now. Later.
A sharp bang on the door made her jump.
“I know you’re in there, Doc. I saw you turn tail and run inside!”
She barely breathed, hoping he’d give up and take a long hike off a tall cliff. How long till Cleve showed up?
Oscar had run inside while she locked doors and called him, and now he sat growling at the door.
Intending to shush him, she put her finger to her lips. With little effect.
Trayce tromped around to the back door, rattling the knob.
Oscar bounded to his doggy door.
“Oscar!” she hissed.
“I knew you were in there.” Trayce sang. “If you didn’t go around making enemies, you wouldn’t need to lock your doors, up here, all alone.”
“Get the hell outta here, Trayce! I’ve got my nine mil aimed right at your crotch. You remember the gun, right?” He should. Luke had paid him retail price for it. “It’d make a nice hole where your overactive wiener dwells.” Her hands shook, though her voice didn’t.
“I didn’t come to play OK Corral with you. Anyhow, you know if we have a shooting match I’m gonna outweapon you.” Still, his words were a little clipped. He was concerned for his dick. “I got a business proposition.”
“I’ve got no business with you, asshole. Get off my property. Now.”
That malicious grin she saw through the small glass of her back door...maybe she should just shoot him. “I’ve lost a lot of business the last few days, Doc. Money’s pretty tight and I figure it’s mostly your fault for turning my customers against me.”
“Your merchandise is overpriced. That’s why everybody shops at Wal-mart for their sporting goods.”
“Thanks to you, my dealer’s license is on suspension. I have a lot of customers pretty pissed right now. But if you help me out, I won’t tell them you’re to blame.”
“Fuck you, Gunther.” If she didn’t help him out, he was planning to tell his gun buddies?
“That’ll come later, after I come through this pathetic door of yours.”
“Try the knob again, and I swear to God I’ll be the first resident of Rocky Peak to use the Make My Day law, dickhead.”
“I know you need money too.”
“I bet you know it. I bet you had something to do with it.”
“No point worrying your pretty little red head about that. The local Fifes won’t ever figure out who toasted your practice.”
“Go away, Trayce. I’ve solved my money problems. Without your help. I don’t intend to be an illegal weapons mule for you.”
He chortled. “Right. Lease me the hunting rights for this year. I know some guys who heard about that trophy bull, willing to pay ten grand each to hunt up here. If I lose my dealer’s license, I could go into Guide and Outfitting. You could be the camp cook, if you wanta make a little more. I’ll cut you in for thirty percent on the hunting.”
“Get lost, Trayce.” God, where was Cleve? “If I decide to lease hunting rights, I can do it without you, and get all the money.”
Bang! He’d hit the outside of the door. “You stupid little twitch, you don’t have a choice! You hear me? Do what I say, work with me, or sometime you’re gonna forget to lock a door, and somebody’s gonna be in here waiting for you. Or maybe your truck’s gonna go through a whole pile of nails on the way to town, and you’ll be stranded on the highway. Never can tell who’s gonna come up on a woman broke down on the road. Or maybe poor old Grandpa—”
“You son of a bitch,” she shrieked, throwing the door open and aiming her gun at his chest, “Shut up. Shut the fuck up!” Threatening Grandpa was the last straw. The very last.
Trayce stumbled as he backed up, his eyes dancing left and right but always coming back to her weapon.
She followed him from several feet away, keeping the gun aimed dead center on his chest.
He backed down the steps, then toward his truck, hands raised.
Focusing without blinking, she mumbled, “Shut up, just shut up.”
Taking the steps slowly, she watched him for any sudden movement. Her foot had settled on the last step when a hand reached from behind her budding lilac bush and gripped her arm, smoothly taking the gun.
Shit. What was this, an action movie? Who was Trayce’s accomplice?
Trayce eyed her with interest, but his hands did not lower. Rather, he turned white.
“It’s okay darlin,” Cleve soothed next to her ear. “You don’t have to shoot the bad guy. I’ll do it.” He moved in front of her, then addressed Trayce.
“Spent enough time as a Ranger, partner, I know how to make it look like self-defense. Or if I wanted, I could get rid of a body the right way. So I suggest you climb in Big Foot there and get the fuck off the lady’s place.”
When Cleve held a gun, there was no doubt he knew what he was doing. She’d done plenty of target shooting, but the only living things she’d shot were skunks and coyotes. Trayce probably doubted she’d shoot another person, but wasn’t ready to bet his life on the hunch. Cleve, however, appeared unperturbed by the idea of taking another human life.
Trayce nodded his intent to comply with Cleve’s orders, and did so.
Once the black truck was gone down her driveway, she let herself melt against Cleve. “Oh my God. Where did you come from? I never heard you drive up.”
* * * *
With Rocky’s face smashed against his chest, he released the full magazine of shells from the weapon and looked her gun over. Shiny barrel, no fouling in the chamber or other signs of being fired since it had been cleaned. His arms tightened around her back. He gave himself the pleasure of burying his face in her hair, his lips resting right in the middle of a sweet cowlick.
“My ATV crapped out on me comin up the hill again. I saw those big tire tracks comin through your gate and guessed what was up. Came through the trees on foot. Hey, you’re shakin like a leaf!” He pulled away enough to get a look at her teary face.
She sniffled. “God, I was so terrified.”
“You sure didn’t look it. I didn’t think Gunther was gonna see another sunrise.”
“Then how come you took the gun from me?”
“Takin a human life leaves an awful nasty aftertaste, darlin. I wouldn’t want you to deal with those feelings.”
“Because of the Maybe Baby?” she asked.
“Oh. Forgot about that, actually.” He rubbed her back.
“Well, I’m glad you took the gun. I was afraid Trayce was going for a gun of his own in his truck. I kinda regretted coming out the door. Did you hear what he said?”
“I think I got here at the tail end, but I heard him threaten Winston, and then you come barrelin out the door like Annie Oakley in a temper. He wanted you to open the door, Rocky. Would’ve been a safer bet to stay inside till I got here.”
“How was I supposed to know how long you’d be?” she snapped. “Besides, I’m just a sitting duck in the house until somebody else shows up. Supposing he couldn’t bust through the door, all he’d have to do is toss a stick of firewood through a window and he’s in.”
Her invincible attitude was gone. Now she was vulnerable, which he found every bit as appealing as her tough side.
“You won’t be in that position again, I promise it.” Not as long as he was alive and kickin, she wouldn’t.
“I didn’t mean it’s your responsibility. I’m shook up right now. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“I’ll be by your side to make sure.”
“You gonna babysit me round the clock now, till you know for sure I’m not carrying your heir?” Her resentment rang loud and clear.
He tilted her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “That what you wanta hear, Rocky? That I’m only into you for a kid?” The way her eyes jerked away to the side and she swallowed hard against his hand on her neck, he knew she’d refuse to answer.
He cut his chuckle short with a kiss.
“Mmm. That’s more like what I had planned before Pencildick showed up and ruined everything,” she said with a half-smile. “You know, you positively reek of pink-can Aqua Net.” Her eyes narrowed on him, and she pursed her lips to hide a hellcat’s grin.
It took some time to register what Aqua Net was, then his face got hot. “I’m sorry. I was plannin to change my shirt before I came over, but I left in a hurry. I mean, I didn’t do anything wrong, I mean, I only—”
“Oh, do shut up.” She laughed, which must be a good sign. “I know Barbie’s been all over you like a diaper on a baby’s ass.” Her eyes rolled. “When’s she leaving?”
“Um, well, I haven’t got a ticket yet, but, well—” Oh hell, Howell, don’t you dare lie to her again. “That is to say...I guess she’ll be stayin till next week and catchin a ride home with Clay.” There, for once he’d chosen the smart route. He cringed, waiting for her wrath.
Her chin lifted and she smiled. “Oh well, I guess you won’t be around her much anyway. My gain, her loss.”
Did she really want him around or was he just a way to aggravate his dad and now Whitney, too? And get a free bodyguard to boot? Which reminded him... His own weapons were back at his place.
“Here’s your gun back.” He handed it to her, then reached in his pocket for his cellphone.
“Hey, Rowdy. No, everything’s okay now. Listen, I had a bag packed in my room.” He listened impatiently to Rowdy’s complaints about Whitney. “She’ll get over it after a fashion. Pay her some attention.” But there were more complaints. “Well, hell, if she wants to tattle to her daddy, then let her. I got bigger fish to fry. Listen, my ATV broke down on the way over here. I need you to get my handgun from under my mattress and bring it over, along with that bag. Head on up the road from our gate, and you’ll come to the Day driveway. Thanks.”
Kiersten grinned when he hung up. “Sounds like you’ve got an unhappy guest. Scarlet’s not getting her way, huh? ‘Oh Rhett, please come to your senses, my thighs are sweatin for you, you’re such a handsome devil!’ Please, if I ever get so pathetic, just shoot me.” Her grin faded and she looked sick to her stomach. “I guess I can’t blame her too much, if she knows what she’s missing...”
He scratched his forehead under his hat. Might as well keep on telling the truth. “There’s a, uh, past.”
“Can’t be a very long past! Christ, she’s not old enough to have been legal for very long... Oh, God. I don’t even want to know, do I?” The siren from the restaurant, who’d tonight become a vulnerable woman in need of his protection, turned back into the defensive, man-hating shrew he’d first met. “What the hell are you doing with somebody like me if you’re attracted to women like that?”
With his hands on the sides of her face, he made her look at him. “Quit. You’re the opposite of every woman I ever knew till now. None of that gloopy makeup, but you’re the prettiest girl I know.”
Her eyes checked his. Confirming his honesty?
“You’ve got that huge, soft, every-color hair that makes me nuts when it’s loose and hangin all over me, you know that? Sometimes I forget what I’m doin in the middle of a job, thinkin about how some of it curls and some of it’s straight, like it has as many moods as you do.”
* * * *
Her hands were full with the gun and the clip, or she’d have self-consciously touched the hair she’d neglected. It had grown from the sleek professional cut she used to maintain into something wild that she suspected she should be embarrassed by, but personally enjoyed. Mirroring the unregimented life she’d led on the mountain, her hair had days where it was alternately straight, wavy, or curly, and much more red than it used to be when it was short. The red seemed to grow in streaks mixed with the rest of her hair, and wanted to curl more than the rest.
Cleve slid his hands down to her shoulders. “And then there’s the way you hide that little body of yours like a secret. You don’t advertise it like a billboard for every man to see. I like that, Rocky. I like it a lot.”
“Um, thanks?” Her cheeks warmed.
“So what were those plans you were talkin about?”
“While we wait for Rowdy...” She teasingly tugged the bottom of her negligee out between her sweatshirt and jeans. “I’m gonna give Nate a call and warn him about Trayce, okay? Yeah, it’s all the same fabric. So’s the panty.”
His gaze stayed fixed on her inside while she dialed Nate. “Is there food cookin?” he asked.
“Warming. Chicken Marsala.”
She was laughing at the lusty look in Cleve’s eyes when Nate answered, “Chicken? I thought you’d be calling to tell me about the sex by now.”
“Cleve’s old-fashioned. I have to feed him before he’ll put out.” She laughed. “He earned it tonight though. He rescued me from shooting My Favorite Militant.”
Cleve sat down at her table while she paced and talked.
“Trayce was there?” Nate gasped.
“Yeah. I’m sure he was the one who torched the practice. Now he wants me to let him lease out hunting rights on the Peak, and he’ll give me thirty percent.”
“No way! I hope you sent him packing.”
“Pretty much, but first he threatened my safety and Grandpa’s, too.”
“Oh my God, that guy is such bad news.”
“Yeah, so can you keep a close eye on Grandpa till I can figure out what else to do with him?” He claimed he was too short of breath for thin air at the Peak. She’d made a doctor appointment for him, but it wasn’t until next week.
“You know I’ll watch out for Wins,” Nate assured her. “That’s not such a bad idea, leasing out hunting rights, girlfriend.”
“I know, I was thinking so, too.” She took a seat on her kitchen table, legs swinging. “Let me know if you think of anybody who wants to plunk down major cash to hunt up here.”
When Cleve fingered the wisp of negligee peeking out between her shirt and pants, her interest in conversation flagged.
“I’ll think on it, shortcake. You be careful up there. Trayce is getting more and more psycho by the day.”
Cleve’s hand snuck under her shirt, exploring the folds of filmy fabric.
“Um, yeah. Cleve’ll be...here.”
“Fort Worth Barbie couldn’t keep him away?”
She giggled and Cleve scowled.
“She was asking for your address, actually. Said she was picking up vibes from you at the restaurant.” She winked at a now-grinning Cleve.
“The vibes were from the Silicone Alarm going off, not from me.”
“Ohhkay...” Cleve’s face was under her shirt, nibbling around her navel. “I’m gonna...go. Go feed Cleve his dinner.”
“Yeah, right. Make it a good dinner, babe,” Nate said with a fakish laugh.
“Night, Natey,” she sighed before she clicked off her phone.
Back-down on her table, her shirt scrunched up to her armpits, what she wanted was a far cry from dinner. Cleve’s mouth paused here and there to kiss her through a thin layer of peach, filmy fabric. But his truck was rumbling up her driveway.
“Hey Tex, I think your first in command just drove up.”
Muttered curses burned against the lower side of a breast.
“Tsk, tsk, weren’t you the one telling me I had a potty mouth?”
He gave her a hand to seated position and she pulled her sweatshirt back down.
“You stay here. I’ll get rid of Rowdy,” he promised.
“Don’t you think it would be more hospitable if I invited him in and gave him a tour?”
His head shook. “If he figures out I’m havin real food over here, there’s gonna be mutiny back at the ranch.” He tossed back a conspiratorial wink as he went out the front door.
She sat on the table with her arms wrapped round her middle, thinking of nothing but his boyish grin and how it messed up her heartbeat, while his low voice rumbled with Rowdy’s outside.
When he came back in with a large duffel bag, she told herself she was pleased to have him around because he was good in bed. And because he held a gun like it was second nature. She needed him now, for protection. And for sex. Nothing more.
As she dished up their dinner, he asked, “Aren’t you gonna take off that sweatshirt now?”
She smiled and shook her head. No, it was better to let him wonder what she’d look like without the shirt. Build up the anticipation while they ate, then strip down to the teasing little outfit and give him the ride of his life later.
* * * *
Cleve guessed she was teasing him, had him by the bit, but she was feeding him a delicious meal and he didn’t have to brave a loaded gun or cross a locked gate to get in her house. Progress was progress, after all.
The lady sure knew how to cook. Maybe she could show Dusty a few tricks in the kitchen. But dammit, that would mean having the kid underfoot. It was better having her all to himself while she was being sweet.
Neither of them had said a word since she’d served his plate and he’d tucked in. Coming up for air and another piece of hot bread, he noticed her barely touched food.
“What’s wrong, Rocky? You’re not hungry?” He put down his bread and fork, leaning forward in concern.
She gave him a half-hearted smile. “I guess it finally sunk in, what a mess I’m in with Trayce. And I must’ve been sampling too much while I was cooking earlier.”
Why didn’t he believe that?
His cell rang.
She read the display on his phone lying on the table. “Looks like Big Daddy.”
“Howdy, Pop,” Cleve answered past a mouthful of heavily buttered bread.
“Son. Ah got a phone call from Pearson. He’s mahhty upset cause his little girl called him cryin to beat the band about you leavin her all alone and runnin off to some other woman.”
His eyes squeezed tight. Whitney had tattled on him. “She ain’t all alone. She’s with Rowdy and Cash and Dusty.”
“Didn’t Ah tell you most specific that you was to use your manners with her and treat her lahk a guest until she left with Clay? Damn, boy, Pearson is fit to be tied. There’s his little girl hundreds of miles away, throwin conniptions, and he trusted you to take care of her. When you gonna grow up and be responsible?”
“Whitney’s safe. I’m bein a gentleman and lookin out for another lady who needs it a lot more than Whitney does.”
That little lady was looking at the floor, but why? Probably laughing at him, which irritated him more than Pop saying he wasn’t responsible or grown-up.
“Don’t tell me no stories, son. Even Pearson knows you’re all moon-eyed over that mountain woman. Put your pecker in your pants and get back where you belong.”
That did it. He wasn’t some fifteen-year-old boy to be commanded. “Look Pop, don’t order me around. It ain’t none of your concern where my pecker is, and it ain’t your job to find places for me to stick it.”
Rocky looked up, wearing her troublemaker grin.
“That’s one hell of a way for a son to speak to his daddy,” Pop fumed. As he ranted on about the disrespect his son was showing, the same son watched a sprightly striptease.
When the barely-clad female straddled him in his chair and begged against his lips, “Baby, come back to bed. I’ll show you where to stick it,” Cleve knew he was done for.
For a second, the phone was silent.
Even as he enjoyed the kiss, he braced himself for the worst from Pop.
“Well, Ah never—”
In a quick, unexpected motion, Kiersten snatched his phone away. “Never? Judging by how many kids you have, I bet you did, Howell.” There was that name-spitting again. “So has Cleve, lots of times. And if you’ll excuse us, he’s about to again. Maybe a few times by morning. You should be proud. He’s very good at it. Adios, señor!” One of her hands snapped the phone shut while the other burrowed in the back of Cleve’s hair. “If he grounds you, I’ll come sneak in your window at night.”
To his surprise, Pop didn’t call back. Not that he would have answered, once Rocky led him to her room.
After stripping his clothes and pushing him back on her bed, she released her hair from the loose pony tail, letting it tickle him as she made long, crazy, torturous love to his body with her mouth. If his hands tried to stroke her, she’d push them away, tuck them under his back. His words, his pleading requests, finally convinced her. Her little outfit drifted to the floor.
* * * *
When Kiersten slid onto Cleve, he didn’t seem to notice she’d skipped the condom. It was a short ride to his destination, an arrival she very much enjoyed watching. She told herself, as she lay on him with her ear to his furry chest listening to his heartbeat first racing and then thudding back to normal, that it felt good giving him pleasure only because he’d done it for her so many times.
The sound of his heartbeat was soon inaudible. Cleve was humming. Feeling it rumbling in her ear against his chest, she searched her mind, tried to recognize the melody. He seemed to be carrying it very well.
She liked the song, she knew that much. A man sang it. Yes, Kenny Rogers. Won’t you believe in my song? It came to her as he hummed past the title, the word used so many times in the song. Lady. She smiled to herself, and then as he hummed, the rest of the words came to her. I’ve waited for you for so long. He held that last note beautifully, but oh, God. It was way too much like a declaration of something she really didn’t want. You’re the love of my life, you’re my Lady. Oh God. What was she supposed to do? Or say? Maybe she could pretend to be sleeping. That’s what she always ended up doing after sex with him, right? She lay perfectly still, willing her heart to beat normally, knowing he’d feel it.
His hands quit slipping through her hair and settled on her lower back, and she knew he was listening, thinking. She didn’t want to hurt him, not ever. He was too good, too kind, but she couldn’t let her heart get crushed again. She wouldn’t be made a fool of, wouldn’t be tricked. Not again, not ever again. She’d told him that before.
This was supposed to be a diversion, all about physical gratification. Another way to best Howell.
So why did it feel fantastic for those first seconds when she’d realized what the words of the song were saying to her? Why did she want to make Cleve smile, give him pleasure, give him the baby he wanted?
That was foolishness. Talk about a recipe for success—getting knocked up by some guy you barely knew and being happy about it. First marrying a conman, then worshipping her gay best friend, now hoping she’d been impregnated by the son of her enemy. She must have the market cornered on ways to hurt herself.
* * * *
Cleve listened to Kiersten’s breathing, feeling the tightness of her against him. She was tense, not asleep. The final, telling sign: tears dripping onto his chest. What the hell did he do wrong? It was too soon, that’s what. Well, hell. Telling his girl he loved her sure wasn’t going the way it always went in the movies. He’d made her cry, when he wanted more than anything to make sure she never cried again.
Feeling a fool because tears of his own threatened, he cleared his throat. “Might bruise a lesser man’s ego, you know? Tell a girl you love her, and she cries.”
Was that a sob or had she choked back a giggle?
“Forgot the rubber again,” he admitted.
“I didn’t forget.” She sniffled. “I’m either already knocked up, or it’s past the time when I can get that way this month.”
Oh, darlin. I like your thi nking. “Then hell, let’s go another round, Rocky.” He tugged a lock of hair, winding it round his fingers.
“You gonna make me cry again, after?”
“Yep. Only next time you’re gonna look at me while I make you cry. One of these days you’ll believe what I’m tellin you, and you won’t cry when you hear it.”
* * * *
Nate pretended to fall asleep on the couch while Wins watched the late news.
After the old man sidled off to bed, he lay with his eyes wide open, watching the light from the TV flicker across the ceiling. Thinking of Kie with Cleve. What kind of stupid mess had he gotten himself into? If he’d made a move any time over the last two years, he would have faced her rejection and possibly lost her friendship. He hadn’t thought she was ready for a relationship again, or he would have gone for it. Now she was crazy for Cleve, probably in love with the guy in spite of the difficult circumstances with his father.
And where did that leave him? On the outside, again.
Kie had gone from his boss to his good buddy and confidante, to something he refused to name now, given the situation. How long till she figured out he was carrying a torch for her? If she was smart, she’d squeeze him out of her life little by little rather than watch him pining in the corner for her. This is what happens to people who can’t make up their mind. He’d waited too long to decide, and lost the only female he could probably ever be happy with.