“But that’s next year.”
He tugged her down toward him. “Stay.” He rolled her beneath him. “At least for a little while. You can call Kyle in a little bit, reassure him that you’ll be home.”
“I don’t know.”
He kissed her, gently, reminding her of what she’d be missing out on. It took only seconds for her to soften beneath him and he knew he’d won, at least this time around.
What about next time?
He didn’t want to think about next time. There was only here and now and kissing the woman he suspected he was falling in love with.
Chapter Sixteen
She hated sneaking out.
It was as if what they’d done was somehow wrong, but she knew if she woke him up, he’d tempt her again, tugging her back and kissing her and making her forget herself. So instead of calling, she’d simply left.
It was just after midnight and it’d taken a half hour for the taxi to arrive, a half hour during which she’d worried Bren would wake up. A half hour during which she’d sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, the light from the bathroom still on and illuminating his muscled body.
She’d done it now.
There was no way they’d be able to go back to the way things were before. No way she could keep this from Kyle, too. Not unless she pretended as if nothing had happened, but that seemed somehow wrong. As if what they’d done was wrong. It wasn’t, and so that begged the question—why did she feel so ashamed?
The flash of headlights splinted shafts of light through a crack in the drapes and she knew her ride was here. She reached a hand to caress the sprinkling of gray at his temples and then change her mind. She was doing him a favor, she told herself. He was sensitive about their age gap. This way nobody would see her leave. Nobody had to know they were together. Well, aside from Mr. and Mrs. Farrell, but who cared about them?
So she left, and as she slid soundlessly from his house and into the waiting taxi, she admitted that she did care. She didn’t want to be the cause of his embarrassment or discomfort. She wanted him to be happy.
She could fall in love with the man.
She didn’t know why she suddenly had to wipe away tears as the taxi drove off. There was no reason she couldn’t see him again. They were two consenting adults. He was single and so was she. So who cared?
The taxi turned left and out of the ranching development where Bren lived, its headlights sweeping a sign.
Reelect Sheriff Bren Connelly.
The white of the letters against a blue backdrop framed by red stood out like a headline in a newspaper. Big and noticeable and she admitted that she knew nothing of Bren’s political life. Last night they’d talked about her getting her bachelor of science in nursing and what going back to school had been like. In turn he’d amused her with funny tales of being on the force—but nothing about the stress he must be under knowing it was an election year and pondering what he would do if he didn’t win. Did that mean he would have to change jobs? Would he have to go to work for another city? Would he be out of work?
“He’s asleep,” her brother said when she walked into his massive front foyer. It always reminded her of a ski lodge. Recessed seating area to her left, one that overlooked the front driveway, not that you could see much out the windows this time of night. Granite floors—the real deal—not the stamped concrete made to look like rock. And the focal point, a cobblestone fireplace next to a sweeping staircase that led upstairs and to the bedrooms.
“I’ll carry him down,” Jax said.
“No, no. That’s okay.”
Uh-oh. She recognized the look on her brother’s face. Anxious. On edge. The face of a man who needed sleep but wouldn’t get any. He’d been that way ever since he’d decided to “take it easy.”
“I take it you had a nice night.”
She knew what he meant by a nice night.
“Very nice.”
Jax’s brows shot up. He stared at her for a long moment and said, “So that’s how it is?”
Why did she feel her cheeks stain with color? She was a grown woman. It was none of his business who she spent the night with. Or half the night, as the case may be, she amended, glancing up the stairs. Kyle hadn’t come charging down. She could relax for a moment.
“Thanks for watching Kyle.”
“No problem.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “Are you seeing him again?”
So they were having that conversation. The one where her brother grilled her about her relationship. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
Gosh, when had her brother taken on the role of surrogate parent? Their own parents were still alive but distant, both geographically and emotionally, so she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. Jax took his role of protector seriously. He always had.
“I thought you wanted me to go out with him.”
“I do, but I’m surprised by this sudden leap into...something.”
She leaned back on her heels. “Jax, we’ve only been out on one date.”
“A date that lasted until—” he glanced at the clock on the entertainment center on a wall before nodding his chin “—nearly one in the morning.”
“So?”
“Is it serious?”
“Did Kyle ask for me?”
He shook his head. “He was down at the stables most of the evening. Tuckered him out, and you haven’t answered my question. Is it serious?”
She moved forward and she saw it then—the circles under his eyes. The pinched look on his face. The way his fingers flexed and dug into his forearms. “Jax, what’s wrong?”
He seemed surprised by her question. “Nothing. Why?”
She knew him well enough to know that was a lie. “Does it bother you that I’m out with someone? You know, after Paul? I know you two were friends.”
He snorted. The arms uncrossed. “I couldn’t stand the man.”
The words rocked her to the point that she almost took a step back to regain her balance. “Excuse me?”
He nodded, then turned, leading her to the living area. Their footfalls were muffled by a cowhide rug. With a sigh and a scrub of his hands over his face, he sat down. “Man, it feels good to finally get that off my chest.”
He’d hated her husband? Okay, maybe not hated, but definitely didn’t like, and her brother liked everybody. It was why he’d been so successful at his contracting business. He’d made contacts while in the military. Heads of state. Heads of corporations. Big-time mucky-mucks. They’d all liked him. So had the men he’d gone to war with. He’d been able to convince them to come work for him under special contracts.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” she asked, taking a seat next to him.
He glanced out the window, its surface so dark it reflected back their images. He stared out that window and she could see the way his face tightened, from the lips that pinched together to the furrow between his brows.
“He was your husband. What was I supposed to do?”
“Tell me,” she said simply, reaching out and grabbing his hand.
He pinned her with a stare, one that demanded complete honesty. “Was it as bad as I think it was?”
She tried to withdraw her hand. He wouldn’t let her.
“Was it?” he asked again.
She didn’t know how to answer. What to say. Her evening with Bren had thrown her, and now this.
She swallowed hard. “Bad enough.”
He twitched. “Did he hit you?”
She tried harder to take her hand away, but once again he wouldn’t let her. His own grip grew tighter, as if he tried to squeeze an answer out of her.
“Once.” Paul had known he’d crossed the line, though. She’d seen it on his face. “I
told him if he ever did it again, I would tell you.” That was all she’d needed to say. It’d obviously scared him. “Apparently you’re a stronger deterrent than the threat of divorce.”
“Why didn’t you divorce him?” He leaned forward, rested his head on his elbows. “Jeez, Lauren. You should have left his ass years ago.”
One word. “Kyle.”
His head tipped up, and she saw understanding in his eyes, that and sorrow. He was a man used to violence. A man who handled it with calm authority. A man who’d sacrificed so much to protect the things he loved—except her. She could see that in his eyes, too.
“It’s okay.” She reached out and grabbed his hand again. “We muddled through.”
He sat up, inhaled deeply. “I knew it.” She could hear the self-recrimination in his voice and see the disgust with himself on his face and it broke her heart. “Every time I came back stateside, you looked less like yourself.”
His gaze met hers and she wanted to cry.
“It’s not your fault.” She was the one who’d picked a total loser for a husband.
“It is in part.” He pressed his lips together. “I saw it and I did nothing about it.”
“You’re doing something for me now.” She felt her voice quaver. “This.” She squeezed his hand. “I could never have afforded all this—” she motioned with her free hand to his house “—without your help. Kyle has blossomed. Sure, I hate that he wants to ride bulls, but he gets his craving for adrenaline honestly.”
It was an attempt at humor, but it somehow fell flat. He didn’t smile; his eyes didn’t spark. If anything, the sadness in his eyes grew.
“I should have done something sooner.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
But she could tell nothing she said would change his mind that he’d done too little, too late. He had ghosts that haunted him. She’d become more and more aware of them the longer she lived at the ranch. She’d had no idea that some of the specters had to do with her.
He said, “I like Bren.”
And she felt a rush of emotion because she liked him, too.
“I looked into his background and what I heard was impressive.”
“You did a background check on him?”
There it was. The brief flare of amusement. “You bet your ass I did.”
She smiled, too. “Well, I guess it’s good to know I’m not dating a serial killer.”
“He’s a good guy. You could be happy with him.”
She could be, and so the question was, why wasn’t she jumping for joy? He’d rocked her world tonight. Had made her feel more like a sexy, desirable woman than she ever had in her life. Their chemistry had been off the charts. So why did she feel so much like crying?
“I should probably get Kyle in his own bed.”
Her brother patted her knee and she stood up, grateful to him for letting the matter drop. Tomorrow she had class, which meant it’d be a long day.
But as she settled Kyle into bed, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Kyle mumbled something in his sleep and it made her smile. He’d always done that, she thought, pulling the covers up to his shoulder before drawing back to stare down at him. What if things didn’t work out with Bren? What if Kyle got hurt? But as soon as she had the thought, she dismissed it. Whatever happened, Bren would never abandon Kyle. He loved her son, and she loved him for it.
She jolted.
Loved?
No, she quickly amended. She didn’t “love him” love him. It was way too soon for that, but something had happened tonight. Something remarkable and exhilarating and terrifying. And she found herself thinking, why couldn’t she be happy?
Why not indeed.
Chapter Seventeen
She’d left in the middle of the night.
Relax, Bren. She had a kid to get back home to. She had to leave.
Yes, but without saying goodbye? He’d like to think what they’d shared was more than a quick fling followed by an even faster retreat.
“So just be alert and stay vigilant,” Bren said to a room full of deputies. “It’s not likely that the annual Via Del Caballo President’s Day Parade will be the target of a terrorist attack, but these days you never know. At this time we remain low on the threat-level list.”
There were nods around the room and Bren said, “That’s it. Stay safe. I’ll do another briefing before the parade on Friday.”
His deputies stood. He closed his briefing binder with a snap. He would miss this if he didn’t win reelection. Of course, there was always the chance he could go to work for another law enforcement agency, but these were his deputies and he’d grown close to them in the eight years he’d been their sheriff.
“So I hear you had a good time the other night.”
Bren turned toward the man who’d spoken, Chris Carson, one of his first supporters and a good friend.
“Oh, yeah? Who’d you hear that from?” He came around the podium, one hand clutching the binder, his other moving to his right hip.
“Frank Farrell wouldn’t shut up about the hot little number you had on your arm.”
Bren hoped he concealed his dismay. “When was that?”
“At the coffee shop this morning.” Chris’s bright blue eyes glowed with amusement. “I got the feeling she must be something else to look at if it had old Frank up in arms.”
Bren didn’t know what to say. It was clear Chris didn’t know about the age gap between him and Lauren. And he doubted Frank would make a big deal over it. It was probably more that she’d been dressed like a sexy siren than that there was a difference in their ages. But the fact that Frank was talking about him was disconcerting.
“What’d he say, exactly?”
“Just that you’d taken to cradle-robbing, which made me think she must be really hot. Frank’s wife is about as good-looking as a cube of ice. I don’t think that man’s had sex for decades.”
The twinkle in Chris’s eyes only increased as Bren tried to contain his consternation. Clearly his friend found his discomfort amusing.
Okay. Get ahold of yourself. It’s probably nothing. Nobody’s going to listen to windbag Frank.
So he worked hard to get the dismay off his face. He even managed to shrug and it felt good because it loosened his tense shoulders. “I took that little boy’s mom out for Valentine’s Day,” he said. “You know, the one I’ve been teaching to ride.”
Chris nodded. “Hope she showed you a little gratitude afterward.”
He bristled. He didn’t know why. Chris was just having some fun at his expense, but he didn’t like anyone thinking of Lauren that way. She was so much more than a quick fling.
So much more?
He straightened. “Frank Farrell is a jerk not fit to lick Lauren Danners’s boots. Next time you see him, tell him to butt out of my business.”
Chris’s eyes had widened, parallel wrinkles forming between them. “Sorry, bud. I didn’t mean to step on toes.”
Bren forced himself to relax again. If Frank was blabbing his mouth all over town, it could have only one purpose. He was trying to cause trouble over the reelection. Wouldn’t work, though. He’d make sure of that.
“Don’t worry about it.” He clapped the man on his shoulder. “I just don’t like men like Frank passing judgment on someone like Lauren. She deserves better.”
“Got it.” Chris gave him a salute, his gold star twinkling nearly as bright as his eyes. “Never liked Frank anyway.”
In that they were in perfect agreement. “Stay safe,” he said.
His friend nodded. “You, too.” Although he had a better chance of that than Chris. These days he lived his life behind a desk.
“You bringing her to the parade on Saturday?”
“Actually, I�
�m in it.”
“Oh, yeah?” Chris asked as he walked back to his office near the front of the Via Del Caballo sheriff’s department. “Are you the grand marshal?”
“Nothing so grandiose.” He shook his head. “Andrew and the boys thought it would be good for me to be in it. You know, shake some hands, kiss some babies.”
“Ah, the tough life of a public official.”
Yeah. But for how much longer?
* * *
HE’D TEXTED HER while she was in class. She’d heard her backpack vibrate and, yes, smiled when she’d read the message.
See you tomorrow?
Tomorrow, not tonight?
She quickly contained her disappointment. At least he wasn’t rushing her. Besides, she needed to swing by that nursing home tonight and put in an application. It wasn’t the job she wanted, but it would pay the bills. Time to get serious about finding a job.
And so she’d quickly typed the word yes.
But it wasn’t until later that evening that she learned Bren had scheduled a jumping lesson for her son, something she wasn’t particularly thrilled about, but that she’d known had been coming. That’s what “seeing her tomorrow” was all about. She tried not to read too much into it, focusing instead on how much she appreciated Bren’s help. Kyle had healed quickly after being stepped on and he couldn’t wait to get back at it, especially since they’d learned he hadn’t won a buckle at the rodeo where he’d gotten hurt. Someone else had come along and scored higher in the main performance. A couple someones, actually. It’d lit a fire in Kyle’s eyes and he’d become determined to ride even better at his next rodeo in a few weeks, calling Bren up and arranging the lesson.
Bren hadn’t asked to take her out again.
You’re overthinking things, said the little voice.
She expected him to call that night, and when he didn’t, she ignored the burning in the pit of her stomach.
So what? said that same voice. You’re a big girl. You can text him.
Her Cowboy Lawman Page 14