Summer Texas Bride

by Katie Lane

  “Isn’t that what you said about the retail store Dirk financed?”

  She shot him an annoyed look as she poured herself another drink. “Seasons was different. I sort of jumped into the retail business without much thought. But this time, I’ve put a lot of thought into my business plan. I’ve been researching personal shopper companies. I’ve read all kinds of business articles, including the one that said you were the technical genius behind Headhunters’ success. That’s why I came to you. With your help, I know it will work.”

  His ego couldn’t help feeling a little pumped, but he was Dirk’s friend and he couldn’t cave. “I don’t have time to run my business and yours too.”

  She walked over to one of the beds and sat down. “I don’t expect you to. I just need you to look over my business plan and give me your thoughts. And maybe hook me up with some tech geek who can do what you do.” She set her drink on the nightstand and bent over, revealing the wide expanse of her naked back as she slipped off first one purple high heel and then the other. “Darn uncomfortable shoes. I told Spring that her attendants should wear sneakers or cowboy boots, but she refused to listen.”

  Ryker pulled his attention away from the soft skin of her back and downed his tequila. The second shot slid down his throat so nice and smoothly that he poured himself another. When he turned, Summer was looking at him with big blue eyes that a man could drown in if he wasn’t careful.

  “Please, Ryker,” she said. “Dirk doesn’t have to know that you helped me. It could be our little secret. And I’m good at keeping secrets. You can ask anyone.”

  The alcohol was making him much more relaxed. He no longer felt like he was locked in a closet with an aggressive homecoming queen candidate who wanted his vote. “I bet you are good at keeping secrets. But I don’t do secrets. I learned early on that they always come back to haunt you.” He carried the bottle of tequila over to the nightstand and topped off her drink.

  She picked her glass up, but just sipped it. “I guess I’m not going to talk you into it.”

  “Nope.” He sat on the opposite bed and toasted her with the glass before he took a drink. “Dirk is like a brother to me.”

  She snorted. “More to you than to me.” She finished off her drink, set her empty glass on the nightstand, and fell back on the bed. It immediately started vibrating. She giggled, something completely out of character. The light carefree sound made him smile. “I guess your vibrating bed works after all.” She spread out her arms and her breasts jiggled beneath the soft satin of her bodice. “This feels amazing. You should come try it.” The thought of joining her on the bed had him hardening beneath the fly of his dress pants.

  He looked away from her jiggling breasts and downed his drink. Thankfully, only a moment later, the bed stopped vibrating.

  “It was a beautiful wedding, wasn’t it?” she said.

  He looked back. She had left her hands over her head. Her long hair spilled over the white of the sheets like ink. “Beautiful.”

  A long stretch of silence passed before she spoke. “Here’s a secret for you. I’m going to miss that brat. Spring’s positive outlook made even the hard times bearable.”

  He didn’t have to ask what hard times she was talking about. He’d learned enough from Dirk to know about the Hadleys’ tough childhood. Their father had left when the triplets were babies, their mother had died of ovarian cancer when they were young, and her grandmother had struggled to make ends meet with four children to feed. He’d always felt sympathy for Dirk and his sisters Spring and Autumn. But until now, he’d never felt much sympathy for Summer. Probably because she’d always seemed as tough as nails.

  But the woman stretched out on his bed didn’t look so tough. She looked heartbroken. Like she’d just lost her best friend. And in a way, she had. Spring would be living in Bliss with her new husband, and Summer would be headed back to Houston with Autumn. He could sympathize. He didn’t have any siblings, but Dirk was like a brother. And he missed him.

  “I’m sure you’ll get to see Spring. It’s not that far to Houston,” he said.

  She released a long sigh. “But it won’t be the same. It will never be the same.” She stared at the ceiling for a moment before she lifted her head. “More tequila, please.”

  He should’ve been the responsible party and cut her off. But he didn’t. Maybe because he didn’t like seeing Summer so sad.

  He poured them each another shot before he got up and handed her a glass. He sat down next to her and clinked his glass to hers. “To Spring and Waylon, may they never be as miserable as most of the married couples I know.”

  Summer sat up, sloshing some of her tequila on her dress. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those men who hates the institution of marriage.”

  He probably should’ve gone back to the other bed. With her sitting up, her deep ocean blue eyes were much too close. But he didn’t move. Instead, he took a sip of tequila. “I’m a logical man who understands statistics. And statistically speaking, the odds are stacked against you as soon as you say your vows. I suppose you dream of being married in a little white chapel filled with flowers and friends like your sister.”

  She took a sip of tequila. “Nope. I have no desire to get married. Or to fall in love, for that matter. My mama was a perfect example of what love can do to a woman. She loved my daddy until the day she died, and she suffered every day for that love. She just couldn’t see what an asshole he was. He left her with four kids to raise and not one dime of support. And yet every time he showed up at the door, she acted like it was Christmas.” She shook her head. “Pure foolishness.”

  He nodded. “My mom was the same way with my father when they were first married. But she eventually got sick of depending on a man who wasn’t dependable. When I was five, she packed us up and moved to Dallas.”

  “And your dad?”

  “Like the Garth Brooks song, my dad loves ‘that damned old rodeo.’”

  She smiled. “I love the song Rodeo. So are you going to help me or not?”

  “Not.” He finished off his drink, then moved to the other bed and plumped up the pillows so he could lean back on the headboard.

  He expected Summer to put up a fight. There was little doubt that she was a fighter. But the tequila must’ve mellowed her because she didn’t fight. She scooted to the edge of the bed and poured herself another shot, then leaned over and added more tequila to his glass. She pulled the bottle back too soon and a splash landed on his chest.

  He laughed and brushed it off. “You hide it well, but you’re drunk.”

  She grinned and toasted him with the glass before she took a sip. “Sober as a preacher on Sunday morning. Although the preacher at our Baptist church back in Waco used to hide a flask in the pulpit so he was rarely sober. Spring found it and we both took a swig to see what it was. Autumn refused. She’s always been the good girl of the bunch.”

  “And you’re the bad girl?”

  “Not bad, exactly. Just willing to try things.” Her gaze lowered to his chest and seemed to sizzle right through his epidermis. “I expected a skinny body that had never been touched by the sun. I did not expect hard muscles and toasty brown skin.”

  “Just because I’m a tech geek doesn’t mean I never go outside or exercise. I run every morning to the gym.”

  She studied his chest. “Shirtless?”

  “No, in my Star Wars jammies.”

  Her eyes flashed up and twinkled with humor. “I knew it! And I bet you own tighty whities.”

  He held out his hand. “How much do you want to bet?”

  She grinned. “How about one hour of your time?”

  “And if I win?”

  “The choice is yours.”

  He realized he was playing a dangerous game. But danger and tequila seemed to go together. “You’re on.” He flipped open the button of his pants and slid down the zipper just enough to flash the gray briefs beneath. “Boxer briefs picked out by my personal shopper.”

&nbs
p; “Nice,” she said. “But that wasn’t the bet. I didn’t say you were wearing white briefs now. I said I bet you own them. I bet you have a pair of white underwear in your drawer at home.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Every guy probably has one pair of white underwear in his drawer.” He had more than a few pairs left over from his geek days.

  She shrugged. “So I win. I would take my hour now, but I’m feeling the effect of the alcohol—not drunk, just slightly buzzed.” She got to her feet and swayed. “Or maybe more than a little.” She winked. “Goodnight, Mr. Evans.”

  “I can’t let you drive drunk.” He rolled to his feet, and the floor shifted beneath him. It was a mere coincidence that she was the only thing close enough to grab onto when he reached out to steady himself. Her skin was just as soft and hot as it had been earlier. His fingers that curled around her waist and brushed her bare back felt singed. But he didn’t pull away this time. This time, he tightened his grip and pulled her closer, losing his train of thought in a pair of stunning blue eyes fringed in dark lashes.

  “I’m not going to drive. When I get to the car and my cellphone, I’ll call my sister to come get me.” She hooked her arms around his shoulders and smiled. “I knew I would succeed in getting you to help me.”

  He had to admire her tenacity. She’d come to get him to help her and she’d achieved her goal with tequila and a little flirting. But he couldn’t let her win. Not only because of Dirk, but also because he hated to lose at anything.

  “Double or nothing.”

  “Double or nothing?” Her hands traced over his bare shoulders and electricity seemed to arc between her fingertips and his skin. It was a struggle to reply to her question.

  “I’ll give you two hours of my time—no, make that three—but only if you can guess what I sleep in.” He ran his hand up her spine, taking satisfaction in her slight tremble. “And it’s not Star Wars jammies.”

  “You’re on.” Her hands moved to his pectoral muscles, and she sucked in her bottom lip. She had perfect lips. A plump bottom and a bowed top. Most women he knew coated their lips with colored lipstick or shiny gloss. But Summer didn’t wear either. Probably because her lips didn’t need any help attracting attention. They certainly held his. Suddenly, he couldn’t help wondering what they would taste like. Would they taste like tequila—strong and mind-altering? Or would they taste like a glass of sweet tea on a hot summer day—cool and refreshing?

  Probably a mixture of both. He tried to remind himself why kissing Summer was a bad idea. Why even holding her like this was wrong. It didn’t feel wrong. It felt right. More right than anything he’d done in his life.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “If it’s not jammies that only leaves me with two choices—underwear or . . . nothing.” She stopped tracing his muscles and tipped her head up, studying him through her long lashes. “Underwear is the most logical answer.”

  “So you’re saying underwear?” His voice sounded breathless, like he’d run twenty miles in thick Texas humidity. Beneath her right hand, his heart thumped strong and rapid.

  Her thumbs brushed over his nipples, and his body flashed with heat. She knew what she was doing to him. He could read the devious sparkle in her eyes. “Naked,” she whispered. “I’m saying you sleep naked.”

  He paused for only a second before he lowered his head and kissed her. “Good guess.”

  He’d been wrong. She didn’t taste like strong, mind-altering tequila or cool, refreshing sweet tea. She tasted like danger. And as he deepened the kiss, he realized that she was more dangerous than selfish high school girls, wild bulls, and lit matches.

  But damned if he could stop himself from starting a fire.

  Chapter Four

  Summer woke with a splitting headache and the feeling that she’d done something very, very bad. She opened her eyes to soft morning light filtering in through cowboy print curtains. Confused, she turned her head slightly. Needles of pain shot through her temples, and she slammed her eyes shut. Still, the brief glimpse of the room had told her where she was.

  The Bliss Motor Lodge.

  Once she knew where she was, she knew exactly what bad thing she’d done. And with whom. She couldn’t remember all the details of the night, but she remembered enough to know that she’d had sex with Ryker. She covered her eyes with her hand and groaned. What had she been thinking? Sex had not been part of her plan. She’d only intended to get Ryker drunk and talk him into helping her. She hadn’t intended to get drunk and lose her inhibitions . . . and her panties.

  Of course, if she were honest with herself, it wasn’t just the alcohol that made her lose her panties. It was Ryker. He didn’t kiss like a geek who spent all his time on his computer. He kissed like an experienced man of the world who spent most of his time seducing women.

  And Summer had been seduced. She couldn’t remember everything, but she remembered enough to know that kissing wasn’t the only thing Ryker did well. The image of her screaming out her orgasm flashed through her head, and she actually blushed. And she never blushed.

  She opened her eyes. So what now? What did you say to a guy you’d had drunk sex with? And what if Ryker didn’t know it was just drunk sex? What if he thought she had a thing for him? Or worse, what if he had a thing for her? She liked Ryker, but she didn’t want a relationship with him. She didn’t want a relationship with anyone. But how could she explain that and not hurt his feelings? Or tick him off so much that he wouldn’t help her?

  She glanced at the window. It was still early so maybe she wouldn’t have to explain. Maybe she could just slip out of bed and leave before he woke up. Since that seemed like the best idea, she carefully lifted the sheet and rolled to her feet. She held her breath and glanced back at the bed, expecting to see a sleeping man with nice pecs and ripped abs. Instead she saw nothing but rumpled sheets. Her brow knotted, which made her temples throb again. She glanced at the other bed, but it was empty as well.

  She walked to the bathroom. The door was open, the shower empty, and the counter next to the sink devoid of any male toiletries. She turned and opened the closet. The only thing inside was the luggage holder with no luggage. Her purple maid-of-honor dress hung from one of the wooden hangers and her high heels were lined up neatly on the floor beneath.

  He’d left. Ryker had left.

  She didn’t know why that pissed her off. Especially since she had planned to do the same thing. But she was pissed. Extremely pissed. She jerked her dress off the hanger. If he thought she would let him get away with making her feel like a cheap floozy who did one-night stands, he had another think coming. He owed her three hours of his time, and she was going to get every second of it.

  She quickly dressed, then grabbed her shoes and her car keys. Outside, the hot Texas sun seemed to eat right through her corneas. She shielded her eyes with one hand and headed for her car, only to run smack dab into a cleaning cart. Stacks of towels fell to the ground and cleaning supplies rattled.

  “Watch where you’re going!” Winnie Crawley came hurrying out of the room next to Ryker’s. Summer had only met the daughter of the owner of the motor lodge once before. And once had been enough to figure out that she didn’t like Winnie. The woman was not only mean-spirited, she would also screw anything in Wranglers. Although Summer couldn’t really talk when she was coming out of a man’s motel room at the crack of dawn.

  “Look what you did, clumsy.” Winnie picked up the towels and brushed them off. “It’s bad enough that my mama makes me come to work on a Sunday morning to clean your rooms. I’m not going to do laundry too.”

  The boss part of Summer really wanted to let the woman have it for talking so disrespectfully to a paying customer. Except she wasn’t really a paying customer. She was just the slut who had spent the night with a paying customer. And because of that, she wanted to get out of there before Winnie started to wonder what Summer was doing there in a wrinkled maid-of-honor dress with her high heels dangling from her hand and her ha
ir looking like it had been combed with a pitchfork.

  “I apologize,” she said as she moved around the cart. “I’ll be more careful next time.” She was almost to her car when Winnie called after her.

  “Hey, ain’t you one of them Hadley triplets?”

  Summer froze. Great. She slowly turned. “Why, yes I am.”

  Winnie nodded. “I thought so. Which season are you?”

  Summer smiled. “Autumn.”

  As soon as she was in the car, she wanted to grab her phone from the console and fire off numerous texts to Mr. Ryker Evans. But with Winnie watching her intently, she decided to put her texting on hold. She gave the woman a little wave as she started her car and backed out. Once on Main Street, she picked up her phone. But before she could start texting, it rang. Autumn’s name popped up on the Bluetooth screen on the dash. As soon as Summer answered, her sister started in.

  “Where have you been and why haven’t you answered my calls? I’ve been worried sick ever since I woke up this morning and discovered that you didn’t come home last night. You’re lucky Granny Bon and Dirk think you’re still sleeping or they’d already be calling the sheriff. I was about ready to call Waylon myself.”

  “No need to bug our new brother-in-law on his honeymoon. I didn’t run into foul play.” Just a foul man who didn’t honor his bets.

  “Then where have you been?” Autumn asked.

  “I was with Ryker.”

  “Good Lord. Don’t tell me you kept the man up all night browbeating him to help you with your crazy scheme.”

  “It’s not a crazy scheme. And I didn’t keep him up all night browbeating him.”

  “Then what were you doing all—” Autumn cut off. “Tell me you did not do what I think you did, Summer Lynn. I know you want this new business idea of yours to be successful, but please tell me you didn’t prostitute yourself for a little help from Ryker.”