“No, I don’t want to talk about him,” Austin assured her. “I’m hoping I don’t ever have to talk about or see him again.”
Cait made a sound of agreement, and like him, she kept her attention on the twins as they went inside after their backpacks. Austin and she started strolling in that direction.
“Leyton said that first thing this morning Cody Joe checked himself into a sex addiction clinic in San Antonio,” Cait provided. “And according to the statement he made, he’s doing that with the hopes of getting his life back on track, and that includes being with McCall.”
Austin still didn’t want to talk about Cody Joe, but that last bit of info latched right on to his attention. Not in a good way, either. He thought of McCall. Of her bruises. Of the dejected expression she’d had the night before when she’d walked away.
Then he thought of her breasts.
Shit.
That was definitely a man-thought that he wouldn’t be sharing with his sister. Or anyone else for that matter.
“You think McCall wants to be won back?” Cait asked.
“No.” He got another hit of hindsight and realized he should have at least hesitated as if giving it some thought that it in no way needed. McCall would be a fool to get back with that, well, fool.
“Is that because you’re interested in...rekindling unrequited stuff with her?” Cait pressed.
This time he made sure he didn’t hesitate. “No.” He didn’t want Cait to get started with any matchmaking.
He wasn’t ready for that.
Hell, he wasn’t ready for life yet. Not when he was still grieving for Zoey. Not when he hadn’t forgiven himself. If he’d just insisted that she have a more aggressive treatment sooner, that might have beaten off the cancer. But he hadn’t insisted because she’d wanted to be able to spend as much quality time as possible with him and the girls. Now, that decision was a daily punch to his gut and bite to his ass.
“Leyton also told me about Edith being pissed off,” Cait went on. “You want me to try to talk to her and maybe smooth things over?”
For the third time in this short conversation, Austin repeated his “No.” He muttered a thanks, though. “You’ll just lose your temper and end up snarling, ‘Bite me.’”
“True. You want me to see if Leyton or Shaw will talk to her? They’re good at that sort of thing.” Cait snorted. “Probably because they’ve had to deal with so much crap from the poopy head in our own gene pool.”
Yep, no doubts about that.
Their father, Marty Jameson, was a country music legend, and it’d netted him lots of groupies. Instead of just signing autographs, though, Marty had made it a habit of nailing said groupies and knocking them up. Even though Marty and Austin’s mom had divorced years earlier and Marty no longer lived at the ranch, every other year or so, a “love child” would show up.
In fact, Leyton was one of them.
Leyton had not only stuck, but Austin’s mom, Lenore, had actually adopted him shortly after Marty and she had divorced.
“Don’t ask Shaw or Leyton to talk to Edith,” Austin insisted. “I’ll give her a day or two to settle and then talk to her myself.” He reached the side door to his house just as it opened and the twins came running out.
“Bobbers,” Avery squealed. “We all get to be bobbers!”
“Apparently, I have a bank heist to pull off.” Cait gave him a bop on the arm and turned to take hold of the girls’ hands. She stopped, though, at the sound of an approaching vehicle.
Austin stopped, too, and while he didn’t recognize the dark blue car, he sure as heck recognized the woman who stepped out.
McCall.
She wasn’t wearing a fairy dress today but rather snug jeans and a white top that would have been plain and ordinary on anyone else. But McCall wasn’t the plain and ordinary type. Nope. She filled out those jeans and top in a way that reminded him that she was a woman.
One with breasts.
And a great ass.
She gave them a tentative smile and started their way. Austin just watched the sway of her body as she moved. The way the morning breeze fluttered her hair. And he choked on his own breath.
Cait slapped him on the back and grinned as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
Maybe rekindling unrequited stuff wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.
* * *
OH, MY.
That was McCall’s first thought, and that was an oh, my on a couple of levels. For one, she hadn’t expected an audience for the face-to-face apology she needed to give Austin. For another, she hadn’t expected to feel the punch of, well, lust.
She wasn’t normally a luster. Or rather it didn’t usually hit her like a sack of bricks, especially when she’d seen the object of her lust—Austin—just the night before. But that’d been in the dark, during the middle of the crap-storm that Cody Joe had created. Now, here he was looking like something that the cowboy gods had created to make sure women lusted.
It was working.
“The fairy lady,” one of the girls squealed. Avery, she remembered. She broke away from Cait’s hand and ran toward McCall. Her sister, Gracie, was right behind her. “You don’t got on your fairy dress,” Avery quickly pointed out.
“It’s at the dry cleaner. This is my fairy cowgirl outfit. And this is my magic lasso.” McCall pointed to her empty belt loop. “You can’t see it because it’s invisible.”
The words had just rolled out of her mouth, and McCall’s gaze flew to Austin to make sure that he let his children believe in such things as fairy tales. Also known as story lies. Of course, the night before he had been wearing a tiara and tutu so she’d figured it’d be okay for her to dabble in pretend things.
“Can I borrow the rope to play bobbers?” Avery asked.
“Nope,” Cait quickly answered. “No magical stuff in my SUV. Besides, Fairy Cowgirl might need her lasso—” she winked at McCall, then slid her brother a glance “—for roping things.”
McCall smiled but blushed, too, and she was thankful for the hug when Cait pulled her in for a hard one. “Welcome home, McCall.” Cait pulled back and looked down at her nieces. “McCall is a triplet. That means there are three of them who all look alike. Twins plus one.”
That didn’t seem to impress the girls nearly as much as the magic rope. “Can we play bobbers now?” Avery asked Cait.
“Yep. We gotta go, or they’ll be late for preschool.”
McCall stepped to the side as Austin kissed both girls, and while Avery babbled, “Book ’em, Danno,” she and her sister went to the SUV with Cait.
“Remind the teacher not to let Avery bring home any scissors,” Austin called out.
Cait gave him a thumbs-up, strapped the girls into their car seats and then drove away.
“So, that’s what happened to Gracie’s hair,” McCall remarked. “Hadley used to give me haircuts, too.”
She gathered her breath and turned to him, but because it was hard to hold on to her breath while looking at the cowboy gods’ finest creation, McCall just ended up glancing away.
“I’ll bet you’re here to tell me how sorry you are,” he said.
McCall nodded. “Not just about last night. I should have called before I came over because I interrupted your time with your children. But I was afraid if I called, you wouldn’t answer.”
“I would have answered,” he assured her. “What happened last night wasn’t your fault.”
McCall had to look at him again to make sure that wasn’t lip service. It didn’t appear to be. In fact, he smiled at her.
And her toes tingled.
That smile had more power than any magical fairy rope. Heck, it was possibly more powerful than a million turbo engines.
“Come inside,” Austin said. Except he didn’t just say it. He drawled it as if his words were slow
and sweet. “We can have a cup of coffee and trade summaries of the gossip we’ve heard. Then we can sort out what’s bull and what’s really going on.”
It seemed so...civil. Except for the sizzle of heat that she felt, and this time McCall thought Austin might be in on that sizzle, too.
She followed him inside and lingered a bit to look around while Austin headed for the kitchen. It was an open floor plan so she didn’t lose sight of him. Didn’t lose sight of the photos on the mantel, either.
Zoey.
His children.
The life the four of them had once had.
That cooled the sizzle down a little. Once, Zoey and she had been friends. Well, they had been after they’d worked out their somewhat competitive “situation” with Austin. McCall wondered if Zoey had ever mentioned that to him and decided probably not. McCall wouldn’t mention it, either.
Tearing her attention away from the mantel, she made her way through the living room. There were definitely signs of the girls here. A toy chest on each side of the fireplace, a stack of kids’ books on the coffee table and a pair of pink sandals next to the sofa. The room was cluttered but not messy. This was a well-lived-in home.
“Cream? Sugar?” Austin asked, holding up the coffeepot.
She shook her head. “Just black.” And while Austin poured, she took a seat at the granite snack bar.
“Cody Joe had a courier bring over ownership papers of the Shetland,” Austin said. He took a seat, too, across from her with the snack bar in between them.
Cody Joe was probably trying to suck up to Austin. Maybe because he thought Austin had some kind of influence over her. Cody Joe wouldn’t be pleased to know that some influence was there if you happened to count sexual attraction.
No, Cody Joe wouldn’t be pleased about that.
“Are you okay with keeping the pony?” she asked. “If not, I can deal with it.”
He sipped his coffee, looking at her from over the top of his cup. “The girls are picking out names for it.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “So, you’ll be keeping it.”
“It looks that way. How about you? Are the gossips right that Cody Joe’s antics will cost your foundation lots of money?”
That erased her smile. “It will. Cody Joe called this morning to assure me that he’d make up for that.” She paused to have some of her coffee. “Did you know he’s supposedly in a sex addiction clinic?”
Austin nodded. “I heard. Is it for real? Does he have a sex addiction or just stupid judgment?”
“The latter,” she answered without hesitation. And here’s where she thought she owed him an explanation if only so Austin wouldn’t think she was an idiot. It was one of those “secrets” that McCall had insisted for Boo to keep to themselves.
“Cody Joe and I used to date,” she said, “but for the last six months or so, our relationship’s been more of a prop.” McCall was certain she was going to have to add a lot more explanation than that.
“You mean like we were in eighth and ninth grade when the Little Cowgirls honchos wanted you to have a boyfriend?” he threw out there. “A boyfriend who’d keep up your goody-goody image?”
She nodded. So, Austin hadn’t had any trouble grasping that. “Cody Joe loves his mother, Alisha, and she’s a huge supporter of the foundation. She insisted that he stay attached to me. So do other large donors of the foundation and some of his fans.”
“Seems like Cody Joe wants to be attached to you, too,” Austin pointed out. “He came here last night to get back together with you.”
“Maybe. But I think what he really wants is to make sure Alisha’s not thoroughly pissed off at him. As opposed to partly pissed off at him for that stupid stunt he pulled with Miss Watermelon.”
Austin paused, studied her. “So, what will you do?” he asked.
Good question, and she had absolutely no good answer, just the hope that this would all blow over. She didn’t have to tell Austin that, though, because his phone rang, and he frowned when he checked the screen.
“Sorry, but I have to take this,” he said. He set down his coffee and started toward the back of the house. Maybe where he had an office.
McCall was about to offer to go outside so he could have some privacy, but her own phone dinged with a call. She’d turned off the ringer because way too many people had been trying to get in touch with her about Cody Joe. But the caller was Willard Bolton, and she was reasonably sure this didn’t have anything to do with the Miss Watermelon debacle. He was a client from Peaceful Acres Retirement Village. And while this call likely wouldn’t be an emergency, McCall took it, anyway, with the intention of setting up a phone or Skype session with him for later in the day.
“Is forty-five seconds really too short for sex?” the man immediately asked.
McCall wasn’t at all surprised by the question. Along with several other clients in the retirement village, Mr. Bolton often wanted advice on the active sex lives they wished to continue. Admirable, she supposed, since Mr. Bolton was in his mid-eighties and didn’t seem to have trouble finding sexual partners.
“Well, is it too short?” he pressed. “I’ve been timing myself, and forty-five seconds is the average.”
Thankfully, he didn’t get into the specifics of how and why he was timing himself. “I’m with someone right now, but I’d be happy to discuss this with you later today. Does one o’clock work for you?”
“No. I don’t care if anybody you’re with hears this. My lady friend’s with me right now, and she said if I couldn’t last longer than forty-five seconds like the last time, then she’s leaving. I think forty-five seconds is fine as long as we both get our bells rang. Isn’t that right?”
McCall sighed. “Did your lady friend get her bell rang last time?”
Silence. For several long moments. “Uh, maybe.”
Which meant no. “I’d think if you had rung her bell, then she wouldn’t have said you need to last longer. Mr. Bolton, we’ve discussed this before, remember? I explained that some women need more time than men during sex.” And she was betting nearly all women needed more than forty-five seconds, but McCall kept that to herself.
More silence. “What if I can’t give her more than forty-five?” he said, and he’d lowered his voice to a whisper. Probably because the lady friend was hearing this.
They’d discussed this, too, and McCall didn’t know if Mr. Bolton was having memory issues or if he just hoped that she’d give him a different opinion if he asked again. For the sake of his lady friend, though, McCall wasn’t going to give him a thumbs-up on anything under a minute.
“Foreplay,” McCall emphasized, setting her coffee on the countertop. “If you make that good enough for your partner, then she might not complain about the duration.”
“Foreplay?” he repeated. “That’s the kissing and touching stuff you told me about?”
“Yes, the kissing and touching stuff is foreplay. Women generally need that sort of thing,” she verified. “Aim for at least five minutes.”
“Five minutes?” he protested. “That’s too long. A man my age can’t waste that kind of time.”
“A man your age won’t get his bell in place to be rung if you don’t at least try. Kisses and touches,” she emphasized. “When you’re done, text me if you still want a phone appointment. Goodbye, Mr. Bolton.”
She hit the end call button before he could say more, turned around, and her heart landed in her kneecaps when she saw Austin standing there. He wasn’t talking on his phone, either. Instead, he was looking at her as if he’d just heard everything she’d said.
McCall quickly went back through her part of the conversation and realized—yes, she’d just talked about sex in front of Austin, a man who sexually charged the air just by breathing.
“One of my clients,” she said, slipping her phone back into her jeans pocket.
/> “Same here.” He held up his own phone before he put it away. “Clearly, your conversation was a lot more interesting than mine.”
McCall felt herself blush. At least, she hoped it was a blush and not a flush. She didn’t need any part of her body getting in on this renewed crush she had for Austin.
“I should just be going.” She fluttered her fingers in the direction of the front door.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
Oh, it was not a simple question. It sent another zing through the air. A zing that hit her midbody as if he’d just done the full five minutes of kissing and touching.
This was stupid. She shouldn’t be tempted. Even if she was the sort to have casual sex—and she wasn’t—this kind of casual sex could quickly turn complicated not just for her but for Austin.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she said, hoping that she sounded a lot more certain than she felt.
McCall turned, forced her feet to get moving, and was well aware that Austin was right behind her. If he touched her, she might ditch all the “quickly turn complicated” rationale.
She’d just reached the door when someone knocked on it. McCall froze. Austin did, too. And even though the lust for him had only been in her head, she suddenly felt guilty, as if they’d been caught doing something wrong.
Something that would have definitely lasted more than five minutes.
Austin stepped around her to open the door, and her guilt went up a notch. Austin’s father-in-law, Howie, was on the porch. The man blinked, obviously surprised to see her.
“I just dropped by to apologize to Austin,” she quickly said, hoping that he hadn’t thought she’d spent the night. “I’m really sorry,” she added from over her shoulder as she went outside.
Even though she didn’t look back, McCall had no trouble hearing what Howie said. “Austin, we have to talk. Now.”
Chasing Trouble in Texas Page 5