They drove north in silence. Cleve must be taking her suggestion and ridding himself of her. He had to be embarrassed at the scene she’d made. It would be all over town tomorrow. Recluse eye doc flushes tear ducts at The Grille. To make matters worse, she’d been so caught up in her shame over being a spectacle, she’d forgotten to check the bill and put in her share for dinner. She had no intention of accepting Howell money in any form, even if Cleve had earned it honestly.
With a miserable snuffle, she said, “I haven’t cried in public since my Grandma died, ten years ago.” Cleve didn’t reply, so she went on. “Not even at Luke’s funeral. It was two weeks after he died before it sunk in. I woke up one morning, went out in our living room, and it hit me. He was gone. Gone, and never coming back. I sat down on the floor and cried, like, all day. Nate found me there that evening, still in the same place, leaning against Luke’s chair. He got me up and helped me to bed, tried to make me eat before he left. Next morning, I did the same thing again. Nate took off work and stayed with me for a week after that.”
They’d reached the reservoir, where Cleve pulled over and parked. Two fishing boats bobbed along the opposite shore in the last strip of evening sunlight. He unfastened both of their seat belts, and she didn’t mind a bit when he pulled her close against him.
She stared out at the wind-whipped water.
He cleared his throat. “Sounds like you still loved him when he died.”
“It was another month before I knew what a jerk Luke was. By then, I’d done the grieving widow thing. But I’ll never shed another tear over him.”
Cleve stared at the water. Probably wondered what kind of grudge she had against Luke. After all, widows didn’t usually speak ill of their dead husbands. “It’s not important what he did.” Her tone was as firm as she could make it, considering what Luke had done was important, had changed how she’d feel about other people forever. “Can you take me home now, please?” She could feel the hate boiling up again, and she’d promised not to be a bitch the rest of the night.
Cleve started his truck and drove up the dirt road with her still against his side.
At her cabin, she asked, “Wanta come help me out with the rest of that ice cream?”
* * * *
Once inside, Cleve positioned himself in front of the cupboard where she kept her bowls. He watched her pull the tub of ice cream from her freezer. Her invitation had promised more than dessert. What should he do about that? A few more kisses surely wouldn’t hurt anything.
In the dim light, she met his gaze, then moved across the kitchen to where he stood.
Her arms slid around his neck and she was close enough he could smell the honeysuckle on her again.
“You haven’t left to call that Texan girl.”
“There isn’t a Texan girl.”
This time he let his mind spin with the kiss, till it could make no sense and speak no reason to him. She wanted this, and so did he. He could taste the wine on her lips, feel her soft little body inviting him. Who was he to turn down an invitation like that?
Good ole conscience stabbed, deflating his overblown desire. He couldn’t take advantage of a drunk woman. She didn’t know who he was, and wouldn’t be so willing if she did. Breaking the kiss, he tried to stop her.
“Hey, Rocky. It’s only our first date. I’m not that kinda guy.”
“Cleve. I haven’t had sex in two and a half years. I’m definitely that kinda girl right now. No strings attached, okay? Neighbors with benefits.” Her mouth went to work on his neck, causing his insides to twist with want.
He needed a distraction. “Just a bit ago, you warned me to stay away. Tell me why.”
“Um. Let’s not talk. Take me to bed.” Surely she knew what she was doing to him when she pushed herself against his jeans like that.
“Darlin, come clean with me first.” What the hell was she hiding? “Tell me what that bastard Trayce is holdin over your head to make you testify for him, ’stead of against him.”
* * * *
His voice was so persuasive, and her inhibitions had left her some time ago. Kiersten couldn’t remember why she didn’t trust Cleve, anyway. He’d been nothing but kind and friendly. She hoped to get much more friendly, so she might as well spill her guts. Her hand held his as she led him to her couch, where she plunked down on his lap.
“Okay. Luke died before hunting season, in September.” She fiddled with the hair behind his ear as she talked. “I let Trayce hunt up here in October, because he was Luke’s friend. I’d just won the battle over the eminent domain thing in August with that fucker Howell.”
Cleve sucked in his breath. Must be ticklish around the ears.
“I got the notice a week after Luke died that the property was rezoned as a resort.” Such nice ears, too. And that little gold hoop was sexy. She’d like to get it in her mouth. What was she saying, anyway? “Um. So Trayce comes up here between seasons and shoots a trophy bull, eight points, totally illegal. I freaked out. Everybody knew he was my friend, and I was terrified it would get back to Howell or Storm—”
“Strom,” he said.
Her thoughts might be fuzzy, but wasn’t it strange for him to correct her like that? Probably not. Hadn’t Nate done it a hundred times? “Whatever. The lawyer’s as crooked as his client. Anyway, I was afraid if it came out where Trayce had poached the bull, those jackasses would use it against me and somehow get the Peak. So I told Trayce he couldn’t come back here again. Ever since then, he’s been telling lies about me. He knows I can’t turn him in without incriminating myself for not reporting what he did.”
Cleve didn’t speak. Oh, man. What had she done? His loyalty would be with his boss.
“Please.” She squeezed his arm. “Don’t tell Howell, Cleve.” She pressed her lips to his again before she went on. “If I don’t tell what Trayce did, then he might get off, and he might force himself on some other underage girl. And if I do tell... well, Howell will take all this from me anyway. I was seriously planning on not telling about the poaching. Until tonight, when I remembered how Trayce scared me that New Year’s.”
He cleared his throat. “Trayce must remember you busting his gut with your knee, and that’s why he keeps sayin you’re frigid.”
She hid her face against his neck. “Trayce calls me frigid because Luke admitted to him that he could never...well, I’ve never...I mean, with a guy I haven’t ever...Shit. Luke was the only one who really got a happy ending in bed.”
“Couldn’t seal the deal, huh?” While his fingers held her arm, his thumb rubbed the side of her breast. “Two and a half years...”
“Thirty-two months, actually.” Wearing a half-sly grin, she brought her lips back to his.
Then his hands slid around her bottom, and kissing her all the while, he stood and carried her to her room. His hand passed between her shoulder blades. Made her jump. Damn. The bruise.
He set her down on her bed. “You’ve still got lots of bumps and bruises. I’ll see you in the mornin, and we’ll start the fence up the west side. Night, Rocky.”
She flopped back on her bed and listened as he stopped and considerately put the ice cream back in the freezer. His deep voice rumbled outside as he talked to Oscar, and a stick clattered on the woodpile during a quick round of fetch. Then he drove away on his ATV. No deposit, no return. No second thoughts?
After heaving herself from her moonlit bed, she padded to the kitchen to get her phone. Nate would be home from his class, probably studying for finals. She settled in the corner of the couch as she waited for him to answer.
“Princess,” he drawled. “What’s up?”
“Hey. How was class?”
“Fine. You didn’t call about class. Did you and Cleve get it on after I left?”
She giggled. “Jesus, Nate! Not in the middle of the day.” Then she sobered. “Not at all, actually.”
“You’ve been drinking. What happened?”
She related the events of the evening word for word, step by detailed step. “I can’t believe he left. Maybe I’ve lost my touch. I’ve never known a man to walk away from free sex.”
“What were you wearing?”
“Nate. It’s not about the clothes.”
Silence came from the other end.
“Cargo pants and a tee.”
“Lord. Not the droopy cargos? Those would fit me! You have to show you’re open for business, girlfriend. How’s a guy supposed to know you have a tight little ass when you wear a tent? Are you ready to listen to me now, and turn off the ‘Not Interested’ sign?”
* * * *
When Cleve parked his ATV beside his truck next morning, he saw no trace of Kiersten. Maybe she was still fast asleep, nursing a hangover. Had she been that drunk? Probably. Which meant it was a good thing he’d left, despite his body telling him to stay. Everything but his conscience had told him to. Even the dog had seemed to want him to stay, slowing his departure.
Yep, he’d made the right choice, but what did she think of it? It couldn’t feel good to be turned down like she’d been the night before. But a girl who’d been celibate so long shouldn’t be giving it up to a guy who’d deceived her.
He knocked on her front door and was about to yell, when she opened it and stepped out.
If her going-out clothes the night before had looked like the over-sized garments a cancer patient might have once fit into, today’s work clothes sure looked like what a cowgirl would wear out line dancing. A hot cowgirl. He looked up and down the tight black jeans and tighter tank top.
Cleavage. Hell, yeah. He bit his lip to stop a whistle.
Leaving her wanting the night before hadn’t broken her spirit, but inspired her to either torture him into regretting his choice or make him go crazy for her. Whichever her mission, she’d as good as achieved it.
The day was warming up fast. “Mornin Rocky. Lookin’ hotter than a two-dollar pistol. Ready to get after that fence?”
They did make headway on the fence, but not much. He had to hold the wire up for Kiersten to fasten, because he couldn’t quit dropping the fasteners when she held the wire. More often than not, he was looking at her chest instead of his working hands.
Even doing the simple job of holding wire to a post, he’d get distracted by the curls she’d left loose around her face, or the freckles on her cheeks peeking out past the makeup.
She chattered about her sheep and how many truckloads it would take to get them up to the Peak, how much the lambs would weigh in the fall, and on and on.
If only she’d shush and let him tell her he wanted to find a soft spot in the shade and make crazy love. And dammit, he knew they had an attraction, but it seemed like more. Everything about her was just right. She was so spunky and determined to fight for what mattered to her. Smart as a whip, too. That had to be how she’d managed to fight off Strom and Strom. Nobody else had ever stymied them. Much more to admire than her little body. Which he kept coming back to.
Today he didn’t have to imagine what that body looked like under layers of baggy clothes. The way she usually dressed, a guy would guess she was scrawny, but he could see curves aplenty today. She must keep herself hidden away from the world because she’d been hurt when her husband passed away. Now she was out, ready to try again, and he’d make sure she wasn’t disappointed this time. Only hurdle still in the way was his identity.
Thank the Lord when she suggested they stop for lunch. Worried over how mad she’d be at him, he’d left the house without breakfast. Besides, lunch brought them closer to dinner, which he intended to be their second date. Then he’d find a way to tell her who he was. She seemed to like him, so maybe it wouldn’t matter to her that she’d been confused about his last name.
Pushing his chair back after eating his lunch, he watched her put the mayonnaise back in her full-size fridge. “Hey Rocky, you wanta go to dinner again after we finish the fence this afternoon?”
“No.” She returned to the table, hands on hips, a smile playing below sleepy-looking eyes.
“Oh.” Damn. Maybe she had other plans. He looked away out the screen door, where chipmunks raced up and down a tree, cheeks stretched full of grain she’d tossed to them.
“Hey, Texas.”
His eyes pulled back to her face.
She was leaning toward him, elbows on the table. “Let’s not go back to work today.”
* * * *
Kiersten watched Cleve’s Adam’s apple bob when he registered the implications. Straddling him, she sat on his lap and tipped her face up to his.
He moaned, then pulled her closer for a kiss. His hands freed her braid and combed it loose around her shoulders.
Butterflies tickled her stomach. This was going to be good.
“Need to talk first.” He buried his face in her still-damp hair and sniffed.
“We’ve talked enough.” She tugged his shirt loose from his belt and slid her hands up a furry chest. Scooching closer to him, she arched her back so he had access to her breasts.
“So damn pretty. Like a sunset.” His mouth nuzzled between her breasts while her hands kneaded his pecs inside the shirt. “Have to tell you somethin first.”
“Shut up, already.” Laughing, she worked his belt loose. “You wanta tell me something? Tell me you want me as much as I want you.” But don’t move your mouth from there while you talk.
“I do, but—”
“No buts, let’s just do this thing, Cleve. Jesus, help me pull this shirt off.”
With his help, her tank flew to a corner of the kitchen. His hands nudged hers away from her bra clasp.
“You better not take off again. It’s not gentlemanly to leave a damsel in distress,” she murmured to his salty neck as he carried her to her room. “Damn, you taste good.” Her lips found his ear lobe as his weight stretched along hers. She’d go easy on the ears so she wouldn’t tickle him.
“Kiersten. Please. I really need to tell you something.”
“Tell me anything, just please don’t tell me no.” To make sure he didn’t, she slid her hands in the front of his pants till he sucked in his breath. “Tell me after we’re done. Thirty-two months, help me out here.”
“Okay darlin, you win.” His lips closed around her nipple.
Ah, it was good to get her way. His hands worked magic on her body, sending her arching and writhing for him, wanting him. After hiding herself for so long, it was strange to be undressed by a man in broad daylight, have his hands and mouth exploring her in plain sight. Strange in an exotic way. A good way.
He removed his clothes and laid that hard body on her again, a treat to her senses, and she squirmed against him, yearning for penetration, but he held her off. His fingers stroked her like she’d never been stroked, and she thought she’d die if she had to wait another second. Then he started rubbing her with his penis, a smoother, wilder rubbing that made her hands and feet go numb. She’d felt this before with a vibrator, but couldn’t believe it was going to happen with a man. Her vision clouded, she couldn’t tell which way was up...the big event was only moments away—
He stopped and grinned at her with a confidence he didn’t deserve.
“Don’t stop!” God, he’d almost gotten her there, and couldn’t quit a few seconds too soon. They had to keep going.
He ignored her command and kissed her long, slow, and deep, then his warm lips moved along her jaw, just below her ear. Firm fingers entered her, going directly to a spot Luke had tried and tried to find. The pressure of his touch seemed too intense to endure, and then it was gone. His fingers brushed her clitoris on the way out, and then he entered her. Her body arched and shuddered. Pleasure and pain melded together and rendered her helpless to stop the spasms washing through her like waves. Was she conscious? He thrust in and out, then he collapsed on her, whispered her name once and covered her mouth with his, shuddering. Such a heavenly feeling, one she hadn’t realized she’d missed, knowing how much pleasure she’d given a man. Only this time she’d been a recipient, too. Wow.
He lay across her, getting his breath back.
“Yeesh, Tex. You think you could do that again?”
He nodded, without a word.
After they’d finished a second time, she lay spooned in front of him, mumbling about him being her hero.
“Hey, Rocky. About that thing I need to tell you...”
“Mmm. Talk fast. I think I might be one of those people who passes out after orgasms.” Her eyes were closing as fast as she could open them.
“Remember how I told you there’s more than one CJ Howell?”
* * * *
She woke up alone and very aware of her swollen female parts. Her breasts had red splotches from Cleve’s whiskers. Her other parts were probably red too. Not used to so much activity. She peeked out the window.
Cleve’s truck was missing.
He’d left a note on her table by the bed.
Rocky,
Had to meet the fridge guy to take delivery at 5. Be back ASAP.
You are amazing.
Cleve
She clutched the note to her chest. Amazing.
Her climax-induced sleepiness was completely gone. She felt like working out, or chopping wood. Anything that took mega energy. But first she needed to share.
Nate answered on the third ring. “Kie, what’s up?”
“Oh my God. Guess what I just had!”
He laughed. “Judging by how happy you are, it must be sex. With a tall Texan, perhaps?”
“Not just sex. Sex like it should be.”
“He rocked your world.” Good old Nate. He sounded almost as happy as she was.
“I think it’s still shakin, baby!”
“Excellent. Umm, where’s he at?”
“Had to meet delivery guys for a new fridge. I totally fell asleep while he was talking. He kept trying to tell me about it, I think.”
“He was talking about a fridge after sex?”
She could imagine the look of horror Nate must be wearing.
Thinking back, she tried to remember those fuzzy, euphoric moments before she’d nodded off. “No, not the fridge. It was...the damn Howells. He seems to be always talking about them. Some crap about all those CJs again.”
“Like?”
“The old guy is CJ, but the son who inherits this property has a goofy name. Not Chaz. Some city. It’s uh, Cincinnati, or Columbus. No, I know. Cleveland! Only a Texan, I swear.”
“Kie,” Nate muttered, sounding impatient. “Think hard. You know anybody named Cleveland? Or maybe Cleve?”
Something clicked. Wasn’t Cleve telling her something about the day they met? Did he work for a guy named Cleveland? No. He was Cleveland. The Howell heir to the Colorado Flying H. Her head hurt. “Shit. That son of a bitch! He’s been tricking me this whole time.”
“Not exactly. Did he tell you he wasn’t a Howell? Did Chaz tell you that he was a Howell?”
“Goddammit. Don’t take their side. They sure as hell didn’t correct me, did they? Oh, God. I told him all about the poached trophy bull. Oh my God. I’ve screwed it all up, Nate. I traded the Peak for sex!” The tears arrived.
Nate must have heard them in her voice. “Calm down, sugar. Cleve told me the other day he doesn’t want the Peak. He’s shopping other properties. He’s a good guy—”
“My ass he’s a good guy! He’s tricked me into giving him what he needs from me. And you knew, didn’t you? This is your fault anyway, getting me all hot and bothered.” Damn Nate for meddling in her sex life! “I have to go. I’m not letting that two-faced prick back in my house.”
“Wait, Kie.”
“Shut up, Nate. I’ll deal with you later. If I lose the Peak because of this, your job will be obsolete. And you can plan on finding a new place to live too.”
She hung up, more furious than she’d been when she’d discovered...well, no time to think of that now.
The padlock that used to go on the gate down at the county road over the winter was in the bottom drawer in the kitchen. She oiled it, double-checked her key ring to make sure she had the key, then grabbed a fat permanent marker on the way out.
Full throttle on Cleve’s ATV, she raced it down to the county road. Then she parked it and yanked out one end of the fuel line. Ha! Let the stupid city slicker figure out why it wouldn’t start.
Once she’d pulled the grass tufts from in front of her heavy galvanized steel gate, then kicked away a pile of dirt the road graders had pushed in its path, she was able to tug it shut, creaking and groaning.
In the center of the gate hung a No Trespassing sign with a wide white margin at the top, bottom, and sides. Using her marker, she wrote on every side, ‘NO HOWELLS!!!!’
A thick, rusty chain wrapped through the gate and around a post. She clicked the lock around the chain, then stomped back up the road to her house. Expletives and insults directed at Cleve kept Oscar looking at her all the way back.
She was climbing her front steps when a horn honked several times from the direction of her gate. Ignoring it, she went inside and slammed her door.
* * * *
Cleve’s truck ground to a halt in front of Kiersten’s shut gate and her sign. He’d been so excited to head back to her, he’d barely noticed in time to keep from hitting it. Her scribbled warnings told him she must’ve finally understood what he’d been telling her.
“Well, hell, Howell.” He punched the horn again. Let the world know how frustrated he was. Should’ve stayed with her, and the devil with the damned refrigerator. At least he could’ve cooled her off some. Maybe bribed her with more sex.
Now she was good and pissed. He left the truck and vaulted over the gate. Might take some explaining, but he’d set her straight.
A few minutes later, Oscar ran out his dog door to greet him, scraggly tail wagging.
“Goddamn Texan!” Kiersten hollered out her open kitchen window. “I have a right to shoot trespassers, I’ll have you know! All I have to do is say I felt threatened.”
“You’re not gonna shoot and take a chance of hittin Oscar. Come out and fight like a man.” Hopefully his taunts would soften her up.
“Like a man!” Her footsteps stomped across the house to her room. “I can’t lie like men can, so I guess I can’t fight like one.” Her voice carried through the open window. “Your daddy should be proud. Did you already call him and tell him how you got in my pants? And how you got the dirt on me so you can take me down? Chaz will look up to you now. I guess he was right about women not knowing diddlyfuck about business.” She came to her screen door, while he leaned against the deck rail. The shotgun she clutched bisected his view of her middle.
“If you wanta shoot me, go ahead, Rocky. You’ll be dealin with my Pop again, is all. I don’t want your property. Come on, I’ve been tryin to tell you who I am ever since we started gettin friendly.”
“Shut up and get off my deck! You suck, you know that? I can’t believe you slept with me when I thought you were somebody else.” Her voice had risen to a shriek. “Goddammit, why does this always happen to me?” Her head disappeared behind the wall and he heard a wet sniffle.
He seized the opportunity and moved closer so he was directly on the other side of the wall from her.
“Rocky.”
“Don’t call me that! You tricked me, and I hate you! Go fuck yourself, you lying bastard. Go to hell, or back to Texas, if there’s any difference.” Her muffled sob burned his insides like cheap tequila. “I hate all of you.”
Her door slammed and the lock snicked shut.
Oscar must have sensed that he was no longer welcome, because his ears went back, then he looked over his scruffy shoulder at him and went in his door.
Cleve’s booted heel came down on the deck and his fist smacked the wall behind him. He shoved away from it, yelling toward the house, “We’re not over, Rocky. We’re not over!”
No answer.
“I’ll be back.” Hands shoved deep in his pockets and head hanging low, he took his time walking back to his truck, kicking rocks along the way. He hoped Kiersten was watching till he got around the corner.
* * * *
Without a backward look, Kiersten locked her doors and then went in the shower, where she couldn’t see or hear Cleve. Wash away his smell, his kisses. No more Texans for her. She should’ve kept to her prejudice from the beginning. Just because a guy seemed nice didn’t mean he was. How had she become such a bad judge of character? Shit.
Character.
She had court in the morning. Nate was supposed to go along for moral support, but now she didn’t want to speak to him. He’d known about Cleve, but still pushed her to sleep with him.
Nate’s moral support wouldn’t help now anyway. Since the Howells already knew she was an accessory to the poaching, she might as well put it out there and help avenge the girl Trayce had taken advantage of. Doing damage to a guy for hurting a female sounded pretty damn good. Nate could rot with the straight guys for all she cared.
The hot water was gone. She’d stayed in the shower long enough to completely drain the heater tank, something she’d never done before. Yanking her thick terry robe on, she went to work in her closet. Nate’s little plan to get rid of all the wrong clothes had inspired her.
When she was finished, two black garbage bags bulged with clothes she’d be donating the next day.
Empty hangers dangled around three sides of her closet, as if waving forlornly to the absent clothing. Shoving them together stilled them. She wrinkled her nose at the bare wall behind. Maybe some paint would improve the atmosphere. She’d make a stop and pick some up after court. It would give her something to do at night, since she sure wouldn’t be having sex again.
The third time Nate called, she answered, “What?”
“Finally! I was about to come up there.”
“Don’t.”
“Look, Kie. Don’t start acting psycho or I’ll move up there.”
“You’re not welcome. You tricked me too. Just another butthole guy inside.”
“Nice. I got you laid, which you sorely needed, and you know it.”
“Yeah, thanks a bunch. That’ll do me for another couple years until I feel like being lied to again. I’ll let you know when that happens.” Feeling particularly vindictive, she added, “Better yet, why don’t you do the mercy-fuck thing, only without all the talking. Maybe you can write it off as an act of charity.”
Nate sidestepped her verbal duel with a dry laugh. “What is your problem? Hormones making you bitchy? I hate to think what you’d be like pregnant.”
Like the mushroom cloud following an atomic blast, it came to her. “Oh. Holy shit. Shit, shit, shit!”
“What? Kie, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, mother of God. I forgot to use the latex you left. Jesus, I can’t get pregnant from that bastard. I can’t. Oh, dammit.”
Nate whistled low and slow. “You both forgot? You guys must’ve been animals together.”
“Shut up. I don’t need any reminders.” She and Cleve had been animals together. It was great. “And I don’t need to be told that Cleve’s responsible too, if I’m knocked up. I wouldn’t want his pompous family near my child. They’d probably steal it, just like they want to steal its mother’s home. Screw that.”
“Calm down, girlfriend. It’s not the smart route, but millions of people have unprotected sex every year without conceiving a child. Don’t freak until you know you’re prego. When are you due for your period?”
“Christ. He’s a friend, he’s a sex therapist, a fashion guru, and now a goddamn nurse. If I give birth, will you be my lactation consultant?”
Silent treatment.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m a bitch.” She sighed. “Let me look at the calendar... Well, that’s just sweet. Looks like I’m about ten days away from ‘the first day of a missed period’.” Wasn’t this her most fertile time?
“Way to think positive. You used to want a baby, remember?”
“Yeah, back when I wanted a daddy for my kid, too. I’ve got none of those things on my wishlist anymore.”
“You gonna tell Cleve? Might be a good revenge to let him squirm some.”
“What the hell do you want him to squirm for? You helped him out with this, traitor.”
“I never expected him to sleep with you before he told you who he was. Come on, you know me better than that. You want company tonight, or what?”
“No.” She sagged against the wall. “Me and my fertile uterus will turn in early. Will you still come to court with me tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. Pick me up, girlfriend.” She’d been awful, but Nate was still there for her, like always. He should cut out that girlfriend thing. Probably how Grandpa got the wrong idea about them.