by Linda Kage
“Right.” He stumbled after her. “You’re driving. I forgot.”
“I figured you did.” She didn’t let go but dragged him along behind her, not even slowing her pace when he stumbled over the toes of his boots. Shaking her head sadly, she sighed. “Gah, you sloppy drunks are all the same.” Stopping in front of the passenger side of her truck, she yanked the door open. “Up you go, bud.”
He blinked at her, wavering back and forth as he tried to stand steady. “Did you just open the door for me?”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah. What of it?”
“I’m the guy,” he slurred, moving past her to climb up into the cab. “Tha’s what I’m supposed to do for you.” Christ, this was why he hated lifted four-wheel-drives. They sat up way too tall, though his own Ford probably sat up an inch or so higher.
He tripped and banged his shin on the floorboard. When he began to stumble into the interior, B.J. caught his arm. “Whoa, there, partner. Watch your step.”
Her assistance reminded him too much of the night he’d helped Jo Ellen into his truck when she’d been drunk. “I got it,” he snapped, yanking his arm from her and scowling.
She gaped back, surprise creasing her features, and then lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine. Do it your own damn self then.” Spinning away, she tromped around to her side of the truck and climbed in with all the agility and grace he lacked. She’d slammed her door and started the engine by the time he finally fumbled his way inside. Then without a word to him, she drove away from the bar.
Feeling shitty over the way he’d just behaved, he closed his eyes. Resting his head against the rear window of B.J.’s truck, he clenched his teeth the rest of the trip to her house.
He’d about passed out by the time she jarred to a stop. His eyes flew open as he began to tumble forward. Catching himself before he could nosedive into her dash, he blinked and glanced wearily across the dark cab of her pickup. She sent him an unimpressed glare.
He groaned. “I’m sorry, B.J. I have no excuse for snapping at you at the bar. I—”
“Hey, don’t worry about it.” She pushed open her door. “But don’t expect me to come around and try to help you out neither.”
He chuckled and opened his own door, half falling, half easing to the ground. He heard her boots in front of him, so he followed their sound through the inky night.
“Damn,” she muttered under her breath as he approached.
Her back screen door screeched open. “What’s wrong?” he asked, coming close enough to hold the door open for her and use it as something to lean against at the same time.
“Nothing. I just forgot to turn a porch light on before I left this evening. Can’t see jack shit in this dark.”
Cooper moved closer as he heard the rattle of keys, only thinking to help, though he had no idea how; he didn’t have a light on him. He didn’t realize he’d gotten so close until he bumped into her from behind.
“Sorry,” he rasped, grasping her hip when she lost her balance and careened forward. “Didn’t see you.”
“No problem,” she answered, though she didn’t bother to hide the irritation from her voice.
Closing his eyes, he once again remembered the night at Jo Ellen’s back door, when he’d tried to fumble in the dark with the key he’d dug from her pocket. His body stirred, recalling how she’d pressed against him and kissed his throat while she stroked him through his jeans. He couldn’t remember ever being that turned on in his life, snuggled in the dark with the forbidden girl of his dreams fondling him.
He groaned and pressed his nose into the ponytail of the woman in front of him. But she didn’t smell like Jo Ellen.
She froze; the jingling of keys stopped. “Coop?”
“I’m so messed up,” he admitted, the ache inside him pouring through his voice.
“Shit,” she whispered, and shoved open the door. Her presence left him before a light came on in the back mudroom. Then she appeared from inside and took his arm. “Come on.”
He entered, tripping over the threshold.
B.J. gripped him tighter, steadying him, then led him into her kitchen and through another doorway. She didn’t turn on the light in the living room, but it spilled in from the back so he could see the couch she took him to. It was long and covered in a butt-ugly plaid design, but looked like heaven.
He slumped down as soon as he reached it, except he forgot to let go of his hold on B.J. She yelped as he unintentionally yanked her down with him where she landed in a tangled wad in his lap.
“Jesus, Gerhardt.” She wiggled and squirmed to free herself and hop off him. But her knee grazed his erection, so he caught her hip, stilling her before she could de-man him. She paused as if he’d petrified her.
When her wide brown gaze met his, he closed his eyes and drew her closer. “Don’t go.”
Still frozen on his lap, she delicately cleared her throat. “You’re thinking about her right now, aren’t you?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
She frowned and blew out a long breath. “Okay. This is kind of weird.” Then she shrugged, muttered, “oh, what the hell,” and leaned in to kiss him.
He opened his mouth and accepted it, growling when he tried to drag his hands through her hair only to find a ponytail in his way. He ripped out the holder and captured the silken dark locks. They were nearly the same oaky shade as Jo Ellen’s. But he’d never confuse the two women. B.J. was more toned, full of muscle; she wasn’t nearly as soft as Jo Ellen.
Damn it. He was doing this to forget that dreaded woman, not compare her to every other female in the universe. Gripping B.J.’s hips, he pulled her snuggly into his lap so she was riding him through his jeans.
She cupped his face as she kissed him and he wanted to rip her hands away. He didn’t want it soft or sweet. He wanted hard, fast, rough—
Catching her plaid shirt, he ripped it open, satisfied by the sound of tearing cloth and popping buttons. He shoved the shirt off her shoulders, and she helped him, seemingly just as frantic as he was. The damn tight tank top went next. He ripped it over her head and zeroed his attention on the deep shadowed valley between her bra cups.
“Motorboat them, and I’ll kill you,” she panted, heaving each breath and making her breasts press tighter against her bra with each inhale.
He laughed despite his feral mood and leaned down to sink his teeth into her shoulder as he tugged at the back closure of her bra. All the while, she divested him of his shirt.
Over her bare shoulder, however, a poster tacked to her wall caught his attention. He blinked at it, then about burst into tears; the Cars main character, Lightning McQueen, flashed across the brilliantly colored picture. He made a sound in the back of his throat, half laugh and half sob. His chin shook.
B.J. lifted her face, caught his diverted gaze, and sat up. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head and pointed. “You’re a Cars fan.”
She twisted her torso to take in the movie advertisement. “Yeah. So?”
“Tell me, who do you think would win a race?” he had to ask, unable to help himself. “Lightning McQueen or the Roadrunner?”
B.J. frowned and shook her head. “The Roadrunner?”
“Yeah. You know, the Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote from the Looney Tunes.”
She nodded a few times as if she realized who he meant before she exploded. “Are you freaking kidding me? Lighting is a Chevy Corvette C1, Gerhardt. The Roadrunner is a bird. Who the hell do you think would win?”
His shoulders slumped with disappointment. “Damn it.” he rubbed his face with a tired hand. “I can’t do this, B.J. I just can’t.”
Her mouth fell open as she glanced toward her poster. “Because I think a car is faster than a bird?”
He choked out another miserable laugh. “No. I’m sorry. Jesus. It has nothing to do with that.”
B.J. studied him before she narrowed her eyes. “This woman has totally twisted you inside out, hasn’t she?”
“Well, if you call me a sorry substitute for her I’m libel to give you a shiner.”
He cracked a smile, but it only lasted a moment. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “What am I going to do?”
“Well…” She blew out a depressed breath. “Since you just turned down a night of complete and utter ecstasy with me, I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”
He glanced her way. “Yeah? What’s that?”
Ignoring him, she busied herself by finding her tank top and pulling it on. She tugged his shirt up from between two couch cushions and flung it in his face. Then she grinned and popped from her seat. “Gorge on ice cream, of course.”
He gaped after her as she darted from the room, where she tinkered around in her kitchen. When she returned, she toted two small tubs.
B.J. handed him his own pint, then waited until he took hold of it before she flipped the top off for him. After tossing the lid onto a side table, she shoved a spoon in his face. He accepted it, then watched her, fascinated as she settled herself onto the couch beside him, crossed her legs to get comfortable, then popped open her own ice cream. She scooped up a heaping spoonful and closed her eyes, moaning as she ate.
Appearing as if she’d landed in her natural habitat, she grinned at him. He had to wonder, “So, do you do this ice cream ritual often?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
He rolled his eyes and let his head drop back against the back of the couch so he could stare at her ceiling. “Yeah, whatever. What the hell do you have to mope about?”
“None of your damn business.” She sounded so moody he lifted his face to glance at her.
“What?” he teased. “Are you pining after someone yourself? Some man you can’t have?” He snorted over the very idea because, seriously, B.J. Gilmore was by no means the pining type.
She huffed as if insulted, but instead of denying it, she scowled and grumbled, “Shut up,” only to dig deeper into her ice cream with a savage stab.
“Holy shit.” His mouth fell open. “You are.”
His curiosity piqued, he wanted to demand who she was so crazy about and why she couldn’t have him. But she appeared as if she might start crying any moment as she glanced around her living room, looking at everything but him. She dug back into her already half-empty pint and sniffed.
His sympathies rose. Holy shit, he was staring at a kindred soul. What a pathetic pair they made, two depressed loners, camped on a couch, eating ice cream and dreaming about people they couldn’t have. Exhaling heavily, he glanced down at the tub in his hand. The ice cream was starting to melt, so he levered out a spoonful and took a bite.
After swallowing, he asked, “How do you deal with it, day in and day out?”
She shrugged. “I bought an airplane. Now it’s gonna take me the rest of my natural life, working my ass off to pay for it.” Another shrug followed. “I don’t know. That doesn’t really stop me from thinking about him. But it keeps me busy enough I don’t have time to feel so lonely.”
Cooper nodded. “Maybe I should purchase some more farm ground, or get a couple more head of cattle.”
B.J. made an indecisive sound as if letting him know that was one way to go, but she didn’t elaborate on whether she considered it a good choice for him.
She looked deep in thought before her eyes grew big. “Emma Leigh Rawlings,” she cried.
Jolted by the sudden interruption, he blinked at her. “Huh?”
“You said you hadn’t seen your lady love in ten years, and Em’s married now—which obviously means she’s forbidden—plus I know y’all just had your ten-year class reunion cause I heard about what Emma Leigh’s sister did there. And you were always tight with the rowdy twin, so I figured that’s who we’re talking about.”
She was close; he had to give her that. But he muttered, “No.” Then he frowned. “Wait. What did Emma Leigh’s sister do?”
“You mean, you didn’t see the whole drama play out? Way I heard it, everyone at the reunion got a front row seat.”
He shook his head slightly, totally bewildered how Jo Ellen of all people could’ve made any kind of spectacle. Maybe she’d tripped on something and fallen. Had she gotten hurt? Oh, God. What if she wasn’t okay?
“I didn’t go to the reunion.” He lied. “I had already started my harvest and didn’t finish until today. What happened?”
B.J. let out a low impressed whistle. “Wow, bud. Sounds like you missed the show. Her high school sweetheart, what’s-his-name…?”
Ice filling his veins, Cooper froze. Suddenly, he knew what B.J. was going to say—all his classmates had caught them doing exactly what he’d almost seen, maybe more.
Jesus.
Sick to his stomach, he uttered, “Travis Untermeyer.”
B.J. grinned and snapped her fingers. “Untermeyer. Yeah, that’s it. Well, the slimy little shit brought his wife and kids to the party, right?”
Cooper sat up straighter. Untermeyer was married? That he did not know.
“Well, that was all good and normal since that’s what everyone else did. But while his wife and kids were busy schmoozing with a bunch of people they didn’t know, he cornered Jo Ellen off somewhere alone and tried to make out with her. So she hauled off and jacked him between the legs with the tip of a very pointy shoe, from what I heard.”
His mouth fell open. “She did what?”
Jo Ellen hadn’t welcomed Untermeyer’s touch? Why hadn’t he thought up that scenario? Maybe because he’d seen her willingly go with him, actually leading him to a private spot to talk. But “talking” really must’ve been all she wanted to do. Coop’s chest suddenly felt very constricted. Jo Ellen hadn’t wanted Untermeyer to kiss her. If only Cooper had stayed around a second longer, he would’ve seen that.
He started to lift from his chair to find Untermeyer that very moment and kill the bastard for touching her against her will.
“But that’s not the best part.” B.J. grabbed his arm and yanked him back down. “While he’s all cradled on the ground howling in pain, she stands over him and reams him a new one, telling him how glad she was that they broke up before she could make the biggest mistake of her life and actually marry him.”
“Holy shit.” Cooper’s jaw dropped. “She didn’t.”
“Oh, but she did…and more. Before he ran off to hide in shame, she told him she kissed some other guy while they were dating. And he was a hundred times a better kisser than Untermeyer.”
A large, uneasy breath shuddered from Cooper’s lungs. He didn’t know what to think.
“Can you just believe that? Perfect little Jo Ellen Rawlings kissed someone else while dating Untermeyer? I think I might actually like her now.”
Coop frowned. “You didn’t like her before?”
B.J. shrugged and made a face. “Meh. In high school, she always seemed like she was too good, too flawless for all us mere mortals. But this makes her more…I don’t know, human.”
“She was always human, B.J.”
“Yeah, but now she’s a likable human who knew better than to stick with an ass like Untermeyer.”
A pleased laugh erupted from his lungs. “Yeah,” he had to agree. Then he closed his eyes and grinned. Way to go, Jo Ellen, he silently cheered, unabashedly relieved her moment of closure with Pretty Boy had gone exactly the opposite of how he feared it would.
Suddenly, he wanted to call her…just to hear her voice.
Ah, hell. He wanted to beg his way back into her life and that was the truth of it. In fact—
“Oooh!” B.J. gasped, breaking into his thoughts. “I bet it’s Shelley Brenterhorn you’re all crazy about. She’s married with a couple kids now. Didn’t you two hook up once or twice back in the day?”
He blinked, thrown completely off track by such a horrible guess. “No. Not Shelley. Why would you think marriage is why my woman’s forbidden anyway?”
B.J. shrugged, looking pu
zzled by his question. “I don’t know. Why else would she be forbidden?”
It struck him then. That’s why her own lost love was forbidden, which made so much more sense to him. He couldn’t see B.J. being the type to want something and not do everything in her power to get it. But if the man she wanted was already married, well, then—
“Jesus,” he breathed, a chill coating him as he grew concerned. “B.J., please tell me you haven’t messed around with a married man. Have you?”
She shot him an immediate insulted scowl. “God, no. Why would you even suggest that? He doesn’t even know I like him. Damn, Gerhardt.” She slugged him in the shoulder. “What kind of tramp do you think I am?”
“Sorry.” He rubbed his new bruise. “I just…sorry. You worried me there for a second.”
“I would never try to worm myself between him and his wife, who I might add is a very lovely, elegant lady he absolutely adores.” She sighed with a soft smile. “He’s a really great husband to her. I gotta admire that about him, you know.” She glanced at Cooper, and something inside him shattered.
“Jesus, you really are as bad off as I am, aren’t you?”
She rolled her eyes. “I doubt you’re as bad off as you think you are.”
He didn’t agree, but she didn’t give him time to argue his point. “Know what I’ve noticed about you?” She said, changing the subject.
He filled his mouth with ice cream and tried to imagine what Untermeyer must’ve looked like right after Jo Ellen had racked him. “Hmm? What’s that?”
“You’re too goddamn nice for your own good.”
He frowned at her, the lovely vision in his head dissolving. “Pardon?”
“You don’t reach for anything you want, you don’t hold onto it tight. Take your spraying business, for example. That was, like, a dream come true for you, wasn’t it?”
He nodded, still not sure where she was going with this line of conversation.
She nodded as well. “Hell, yes it was. I remember how excited you were the day you began doing it. But you gave it up the moment your parents needed you.”