How to Rope a McCoy (Hell Yeah!)

by Sable Hunter

  She was nobody.

  “The baby’s fine.”

  She was exhausted.

  “Do you need anything?” Tennessee didn’t want to love Molly, she had broken his trust with her unfaithfulness.

  “No, I’m fine.” Fine? She had thirty-four dollars in her checking account, no place to stay and a baby on the way.

  But one thing was for certain. She’d beg on the street before she took anything from Tennessee.

  Molly had a plan.

  “We’ll be fine, Tennessee. You don’t have to worry.”

  “You called me, Molly, you must want something.”

  “Yes, I did. I wanted to see you to tell you that I’m letting you off the hook. We don’t need anything from you. You can see the baby any time you want to, but I can take care of everything by myself.”

  “You mean Greg is taking care of you, paying your bills.”

  “Think what you will, that’s what you’re going to do anyway.” Her voice rose, and Molly fought to keep from crying. Viewing Tennessee through the sheen of tears in her eyes, Molly admitted the truth. She loved this man to the very depth of her soul. But he was lost to her, lost forever. And she didn’t really understand why. She was a pawn, a pawn in some stupid game of revenge and Tennessee was too blind to see it.

  Which told her everything, really.

  Instead of believing in her and her love, he’d chosen to take the word of his enemy.

  And there was no coming back from that.

  “Goodbye, Tennessee. I’ll call you when the baby is born.”

  * * *

  “Where is Old Red?” Cato asked as she stood on the porch watching Heath walk up the path to her house.

  “I was afraid he’d get scratched in the valet parking lot.” Heath voiced as he wrapped her up in a hug and gave her a nipple-peaking kiss.

  Cato laughed because Heath probably wasn’t joking. “I don’t blame you. We have to protect what we love.”

  “True.” He kissed her again, this time inserting his knee between her legs, giving her a chance to ride his leg for one pussy-clenching minute. “Let’s go, we’ve got a lot to do.” Taking her hand, he led her to the white Mercedes coupé and settled her in the plush front seat.

  Once he was on the road, Heath let out a long breath. Cato saw him sigh. “How is Jaxson?” She knew Heath had gone to visit him the day before.

  “Not good. I’m worried. He’s not trying to wear the prosthesis. He won’t get up on the crutches and he wants to sell his horse.”

  Knowing the McCoys, she understood being willing to sell his beloved horse was huge. All of it was cause for concern. Does he have a therapist, is he going to have rehab?”

  “I insisted. I’ve made some calls and someone is going to visit him whether he likes it or not.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if he came home?”

  “Of course it would, but Jax is a grown man. I can only push him so far.”

  Cato placed her hand on his leg, rubbing the denim material over his hard muscular thigh, lovingly. “Jaxon is lucky. He has a family who loves and supports him.”

  Heath nodded. “We do rally around our own. I don’t know what went on at the Judah James concert last night but Ryder came home mad as a little wet hen. Pepper didn’t say much, but it was clear something happened. Those girls have grown up before I knew it and it just strikes terror in my heart that some jerk will hurt them and take advantage of their innocent and tender hearts.”

  “Everybody makes choices, Heath.”

  Heath could see she was looking at him with true concern. Who was going to look after her? “Do you have any family, Cato, anyone you’re close to?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I told you about my friends in Louisiana. And there’s Avery here, but I don’t get to see her often. Mother’s gone and I never knew my father. My aunt and uncle moved away after Tessa died.” Seeing the serious look on his face, she lightened the mood. “I’ll make other friends, I’m sure. Lately I’ve been busy getting settled in my job…and…”

  Spending time with him, Heath knew what she wasn’t saying.

  Neither finished the thought out loud, so she went on. “Later, I’m planning on joining a few meet-up groups interested in wine making and keeping bees.”

  “I can just see you raiding a hive for honey.”

  “Hey, I’ve always wanted to try. I love honey on my biscuits.” She decided to ask about Ryder. Cato couldn’t help but think about Samson and his brother. “Is Ryder seeing anyone?”

  “No, thank God. I don’t think either one of them is seriously interested in anybody. I’m glad too. What with Jax’s ordeal, Ten’s problem with Molly and Philip’s trial, I don’t have time to break the heads of any randy males trying to take advantage of my sisters.”

  “Maybe they want to be taken advantage of.” She teased, thinking of their own situation. “Sometimes women want to be with a particular man—no matter what.”

  “My sisters aren’t sluts, Cato.”

  Cato felt like she’d been slapped. “No, they’re not,” she responded evenly. “And neither am I.”

  Heath almost ran off the road. “I didn’t say you were.”

  Cato wasn’t looking, she’d turned her face to the window, effectively shutting him out. Dammit! “Don’t ever let me hear you refer to yourself that way again.” Heath was talking to the wind, but he didn’t care. He touched her arm, but she didn’t move or look at him so he could repeat himself. God, he was doing exactly what those men did that he warned his sisters about. He was taking advantage of a woman who gave him everything yet asked for nothing.

  Who was going to be there for Cato? Who was going to defend her virtue? She needed some knight in shining armor to stand between her and whatever or whoever would cause her pain. She deserved someone to love her. And all Heath could think was how he would kill any other man who tried to touch her.

  “Look out, Heath!” Cato cried.

  Heath had been so lost in his thoughts, he’d almost ran up on a tractor trailer which had crashed into the back of a small car. The accident must’ve just happened, no other vehicles had stopped to help and flames were shooting out of the engine of the little Volvo. “Call 911.” Heath barked as he pulled over and ran out to help.

  “Heath! Be careful!” She called 911 and was able to make them understand her. Thank goodness for face-time. Opening her door, she raced up to see what was going on. Only moments before she was almost ready to ask Heath to take her home or put her out somewhere and let her find her own way home. The idea that he might think less of her because she’d given herself to him without benefit of a commitment just made her sick. But she couldn’t honestly say he felt that way, not about her. He didn’t act like it. When he touched her, when he kissed her, when he made love to her—she could swear she felt love. And now, seeing him place himself in danger, her heart felt like it was going to burst from her chest. He was pulling on the door. “There are children in here, Cato!” She swallowed a silent scream and ran over to where he was frantically pulling on the door.

  “Let me help.”

  “Get back!” he yelled at her. “This thing may blow!”

  “That’s why you need me,” she yelled back. Cato went to the other door, it was crumpled but there was a gap. Inside the window she could see two small girls, their mother was lying across the steering wheel in the front seat. There was one good thing about being deaf, all she had to do to say she didn’t hear something was just not to look, so she refused to look. Instead, she yanked on the door until it opened, thankfully, and pulled out first one little girl and then the other. Through the haze of smoke, she saw Heath was cutting the seat belt to get the woman free. She led the two crying girls a few yards back near a tree. The driver of the semi was crawling out of the cab. “Are you all right?” she called to him.

  Before he could answer, a hot whoosh of air hit Cato in the face and she could feel vibrations on her skin. Looking up, it was obvious there had
been an explosion—a column of fire rose from the car and she screamed when she saw that Heath and the woman lay on the ground nearby. She pushed the little girls toward the driver. “Watch them, please.” She ran to Heath, scared to death.

  “Heath!” Kneeling beside him, she touched his face. “Look at me, please.” Feeling for a pulse, she was relieved to find one. “Wake up!” she pleaded. “I won’t be mad at you anymore, just be okay.”

  Heath smiled before he opened his eyes and Cato almost hit him. But she didn’t. She knelt over, kissed his neck and cried.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Face it, you’re a hero.” She walked out of the judge’s office beside him.

  “No, I’m not and the fact that a camera crew just happened upon us about the time the ambulance arrived was pure luck.”

  “Maybe, but I think your bravery went a long way with the judge when he debated whether or not to give you that injunction.”

  Heath smiled. “Didn’t hurt, did it? You were as much of a hero as I was, you saved the little girls.”

  “True, but when the cameras arrived, all I was doing was boohooing over you.”

  Walking out of the courthouse, Heath took her by the hand and led her over to a quiet place beneath a green awning. Judge Gomez had granted Heath’s request and Highland Oil would continue to do business until a trial date could be set. Zane was working up a case to refute Arness’ claim but at least for now they were still in business. “I need to call Zane and let him know what happened and check on everyone else and then we’re going to celebrate. But before that…” Gently he walked her back against the wall, covering her with his body. “Let’s talk about what went on in that car before you saw the wreck.”

  Cato bowed her head. She was trying to forget. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Tipping her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, Heath answered, “Yes, it does matter. I want to assure you that I know who I’m with. I’m aware of your goodness, your virtue and what a damn lucky man I am that you have chosen to allow me to know you and touch you. Being with you, loving on you is a privilege and there is no one I’d rather be with.”

  Okay, it wasn’t a declaration of love exactly, but she would take it. “I knew you didn’t mean it the way it sounded. It just made me think.”

  Heath planted small butterfly kisses all over her face. “When I say something to hurt your feelings, give me the benefit of the doubt. I’m not going to intentionally do or say anything to hurt you. I am so happy to be with you.”

  “Hey, buddy! Get a room!” someone called out.

  “Hell,” he murmured and kissed her once more. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve got things to do.”

  Cato laughed and let him lead her away. They checked into the Emily Morgan Hotel, Heath had reserved a suite on one of the upper floors. “This is beautiful.” Cato spun around, checking out the king size bed, the big bathroom and the beautiful view of the Alamo.

  “I’m glad you like it. I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve arranged for the weekend. It’s my turn to spoil you now.” As Heath had told her in the beginning, no woman before Cato—save for his mother and sisters—had ever gone out of her way to do something nice for him. Yet, she had put a great deal of thought, time and money into making sure he was happy. And now he wanted to do the same for her.

  “Sounds like we have lots of surprises in store.” She wanted to know what he had planned, but she was more excited for him to meet his literary idol. “I have one for you at ten in the morning.”

  “Great, then we’ll still have time to check out your herb farms and go to the orchard before we head back to the Hill Country.”

  “Deal.” She held out her hand to shake and when he took it, she yanked him close, much like she’d done the day she met him. “Take me dancing, cowboy.”

  His eyes shone. They were way past this. “I don’t dance…” he drawled. “But I will hold you and let you rub up against me, anytime day or night.”

  “That’s all I ask.”

  They quickly changed clothes without too much sexual play, just a few kisses and passing caresses which promised much for the night to come. On the way down the elevator, she couldn’t resist sharing. “You do know who Emily Morgan was, don’t you?” She named the person whom the hotel was named for.

  “The name rings a bell but I can’t be sure.” Even if he knew, he wouldn’t deprive Cato of getting to tell him. She got too big of a kick out of it.

  “Emily Morgan was the Yellow Rose of Texas. According to history and legend, she was a young indentured servant belonging to Captain James Morgan. Emily was captured by the Mexicans and when the shout was made that the Texans were coming, Emily was in the Mexican General Santa Ana’s tent keeping him so ‘occupied’ that he missed answering the charge, thus falling to the Texan army. Although there were probably more factors involved, she is attributed with playing a role in the victory of the Texans and inspired the famous song—The Yellow Rose of Texas.”

  Heath pulled her close. “Seems like I’ve heard that before, but I bet I know something you don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “It’s haunted, the Emily Morgan is haunted.”

  Her eyes widened and she smiled. “I love a good ghost story and a haunting, there’s only one problem.”

  “What?”

  “Most of the spooky happenings are noises and…” she pointed to her head. “That stuff just goes in one ear and out the other.”

  Heath roared with laughter. “I love you, did you know that?” He hugged her.

  He loved her? He’d said it! But, Cato didn’t know if he even realized he’d said it. So, she treasured his words and kept them close to her heart—just in case.

  * * *

  They danced, they ate outstanding Mexican food at The Tequila Tree in the El Mercado. Heath had enjoyed himself so much. While they were stopped at a booth in the market, Zane had called to tell him the jury selection process for Philip’s trial had begun. He refused to be upset, he was in San Antonio with Cato and he was determined to focus on her. When his lawyer had asked where he was, he’d told him they were on their way to The Tequila Tree for margaritas and fajitas. When they’d run off, an inebriated tourist had sidled up to him and slurred, “Did you say there was a Tequila Tree around here?”

  Heath gladly pointed him to a large oak tree further down the way.

  Under the full moon, they’d walked hand in hand down the River Walk, watching the small colorful boats filled with tourists pass under the arched bridges. Mariachi singers strolled around with their guitars and brightly colored lanterns and lights strung through the trees made the whole area festive and full of joy. When they walked through the Hyatt on their way to the Alamo Complex, Cato had marveled at the river running through the lobby. She’d had to stop and take Heath’s picture and he’d indulged her, the excitement she was experiencing was contagious. After crossing the courtyard, Cato and Heath approached the Alamo proper. Both slowed. An air of reverence pervaded the scene. “It’s small but awe inspiring, isn’t it? Knowing those people chose to die here for a cause bigger than they were.”

  “Of both armies, some say perhaps seventeen hundred people died right where we’re standing.”

  Cato felt a chill travel over her and she held Heath’s hand tightly as they walked through the grounds, the mission and the stables. There was a huge exhibit, all owned by Dr. Scott Walker of Austin.

  “He’s a friend of Aron’s. Dr. Walker treated Aron after he was rescued, when he was suffering memory loss,” Heath told her.

  “I’ve heard of him, but I didn’t know that connection. I do know his wife is a songwriter.”

  “Yea, do you like her music?”

  Cato elbowed him. “I like the words!”

  Heath wrapped his arm around her neck. “Sorry, baby. You’re so perfect, I forget you can’t hear.”

  He pulled her flush against him. She could feel the ridge of his manhood nestling against her belly. “Oh,
I don’t need to hear to read you loud and clear. Let’s go back to the room,” she purred.

  “Our haunted room?”

  Cato could tell they were going to have a good time—both between the sheets and out. Being with Heath was such a joy, she’d never had this much fun with anyone.

  They didn’t walk back to the Emily Morgan, they ran—like children. Heath started undressing her in the elevator, not to where she would be embarrassed but a few undone buttons would speed along the process.

  When they were alone they stripped in front of one another. Cato watched him take off his shirt. The man was magnificent, straight out of a fantasy—hers. Broad shoulders, a sculpted chest, a six pack of lickable abs. When he turned to hang his shirt over a chair, he kept his eyes on Cato, looking over his shoulder, a heated, hooded gaze that made her cream. The man’s ass was a work of art, and when Heath came toward her, he moved sensually, his hips moving in a sensual detached manner. If he stretched, she would see that incredible vee and the happy trail that led from his bellybutton to that suckable, fuckable cock. She couldn’t stay still, he was just too much. He walked like he was moving toward a lover, a lover that he intended to coax screams and whimpers from as she buried her head in the pillow, clawing at the sheet. Damn. Damn. And she was that woman—lucky her.

  Truthfully, Heath made her feel beautiful. There was never a moment when he gave her the impression she was less. Yet in the face of his perfection, there was part of her, deep down that still knew she was chopped liver.

  And at that realization, her hands froze where they were and she quickly faced away from him till she regained her composure. She’d unbuttoned her shirt, unzipped her skirt, but for the most part Cato was still covered.

  Heath’s eyes were riveted by the most gorgeous ass he’d ever ogled. But when she had her back to him, he couldn’t communicate with her, so he promptly walked around her till he could. “For God sake’s, why did you stop?”

  “Sorry, I felt shy all of a sudden,” she apologized.