Texas Wide Open

by KC Klein

  The front screen door opened with a rush, and Cole’s heart thudded to a stop.

  Blood-red toenails peeked out from gold, three-inch-high, “consequences be damned” shoes. His gaze took in a slender ankle encircled with a delicate gold chain, shapely calves and legs that—Cole clamped down hard on that thought. He swallowed instead and forced his gaze up. Up to a tight black hem that kissed a little too high mid-thigh, and flared hips that narrowed a little too tightly into a tiny waist. Up to breasts—Christ—that looked ready to pop out of a dress designed to defy gravity. Up to a face that was all cheekbones, big whiskey-colored eyes and lush lips that had very wrong images running through his head.

  And finally a disarrayed pile of chestnut hair that suggested—rather loudly to him—she’d just come from someone’s bed.

  From one breath to the next, anger flared from deep within his gut, and he pinned her with a cold gaze he normally reserved for slacker ranch hands. “Damn, Katie, I thought you were going to Prom, not walking the streets.”

  The look of hurt in her eyes couldn’t have been worse if he’d slapped her. And sure, he felt a flash of regret, but it had a hard time breaking past the anger that had a strange, fierce hold on him.

  He glanced over to James and watched all some fifty-odd years of living catch up to him in a single moment. He waited for James to tell Katie to march right back inside and put something decent on, something less . . . female.

  “What I think Cole is trying to say, Katie honey, is that you look beautiful.” James eyed Cole and gave him a warning look, then turned back to Katie. “But honey—”

  Apparently, it was up to Cole to give Katie her warning. “But a deep breath or, God forbid, a sneeze and this could be a whole different type of Prom.”

  Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he sounded crazy, but he couldn’t seem to still his reaction.

  Katie’s chin went up and leveled Cole with a stare of her own.

  “Well, we’ll see what Scott thinks when he gets here.” Her voice was acid, but the moisture in her eyes betrayed how deep the cut of his remark had gone.

  “You look beautiful,” James said again. “It’s just that you’re more grown up than we’ve realized. Now, why don’t you go and get that wrap you bought the other day.”

  Katie nodded and turned toward the house, offering a backside view that made Cole swear under his breath.

  “Or your winter coat would do,” Cole yelled to the bang of the screen door.

  James shot him a look.

  “What?” Cole lifted his hands in defense. “It gets cold at night.”

  In the near distance there was a thump of bass and the sound of tires turning hard onto the dirt drive. They watched a sun-faded orange Mustang, with two thick racing stripes down the middle, skid to a stop. The back, oversized tires spun, coughing up a cloud of dust. The motor cut off, and a body made up of all legs and arms unfolded from the driver side. His brown hair brushed his collar and fell just above his eyes. His face was baby smooth and saved from being too pretty by a squarish jaw. With a few more years and a lot more testosterone, his soft features would angle out to handsome, but for the life of him, Cole couldn’t imagine what Katie saw in him.

  Then the boy walked up the stairs and smiled. And Cole had to hand it to him. The kid knew charm. That or it had been bred into him from generations of womanizers. His teeth were white and perfectly straight, no doubt courtesy of an orthodontist, and his brows arched into the open friendliness of a used car salesman, or as Cole saw it, a seducer of innocents.

  “Hi.” He extended a hand toward James. “I’m Scott Peterson, Katie’s date.”

  James clasped the boy’s hand. “Mr. Harris, and this here is Cole, our neighbor and good family friend.”

  Cole grunted a hello, but didn’t offer a handshake.

  “Now, Scott,” James said, “I’m going to assume, because Katie chose you and she’s a good judge of character, that you’re a decent man. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t some ground rules.” And then James proceeded to go down the list. The curfew—midnight. The destination—Prom and back only. The driving—observe all posted speed limits. And absolutely, under no circumstances, any drinking.

  The boy nodded and flashed his best “you can trust me” smile, letting James know that he was in complete agreement. The muscle in Cole’s neck twitched in time with his pulse, something that happened when he was within smelling distance of bull.

  The screen door slammed open. There stood Katie, with no more than a see-through scarf for a wrap, and a look of the devil in her eyes. Cole watched as Scott’s eyes widened and saw the flare of desire burn hot and fast. Cole’s fist tightened. Before he knew it, his hand drew back, and his foot stepped forward.

  James’s fingers clamped down hard on Cole’s shoulder like a vise of steel. “Have a good time, kids. And remember, the Prom and back, nowhere else.”

  Katie pecked her father on the cheek and hurried to the car door that Scott held open for her. With a toss of her head, Katie turned and blew her father a kiss. But Cole knew better. The kiss was meant for him, as well as the message that flashed in her amber eyes. Katie had picked up the gauntlet to the challenge he’d inadvertently thrown down.

  Both men stood and watched their only little girl drive off into the sunset, in a faded orange Mustang. One with a feeling of sadness in his heart, and the other with a pit of worry in his stomach, because he knew there was only one thing more rash than Katie. And that was Katie with something to prove.

  Chapter 8

  Katie was in trouble.

  She had made a mistake, a series of them actually. Her plan to make Cole jealous had backfired. Instead of declaring his undying love, he’d made snide remarks. Instead of desire flashing in his eyes, she saw censure and anger.

  At first she’d barely kept herself from bursting into tears, but then after her vision cleared, raw anger burned straight to her core. She’d show him. Show him she was desirable, show him he wasn’t the only man, that there were others who would want and appreciate her.

  Self-righteous indignation was a good thing, a powerful thing. It had carried her through the suggestive dances at Prom, had given her the courage to flirt outrageously, and even had her saying yes to leaving alone with Scott. Nope, the emotional high hadn’t failed her when Scott dared her to take a few sips of vodka he’d swiped from his daddy’s wet bar. She’d shrugged and carelessly flashed an “eat your heart out” smile as she drank straight from the bottle.

  And now she was in it deep.

  Foreboding tightened in her stomach. It forced its way past the hazy cloud in her head as Scott sped through the city, swerving in and out of traffic to the notorious Star Gazer’s point. Scott parked his car a little ways off the dirt road, and then killed the engine. He left the radio on and soft country music hummed through the speakers.

  In the dashboard’s dim light, Katie could make out the white of Scott’s teeth as he smiled. He took another swig from the bottle and passed it to her. Katie shook her head. Drinking sure as hell had been mistake number one, and now her “eat your heart out” moment was biting her in the ass. Her gut rolled, usually a telltale warning signal, but her fuzzy brain couldn’t process whether it was the reaction to alcohol on an empty stomach, or something far worse.

  “Come on, honey,” Scott said, his eyes already dulled by drink, and his speech not much better.

  “One of us has to drive home,” Katie said. She wiped her moist palms on her legs. When had she started sweating? Katie took a deep breath and rubbed hard at her temples. Maybe there was still a way for her to get home before Pa found out what had happened.

  “Yeah right, if you think I’m letting you get behind the wheel of my car, you’ve got another thought coming.” Scott laughed at his own joke as if all of a sudden he was Comedian of the Year.

  Katie did a mental eye roll. Correction, mistake number one was asking Scott to the Prom in the first place. She had wanted a guy who had
a chance of making Cole jealous, and Scott was the closest she could find. He was tall, handsome, and had a bit of “daddy’s money” to flaunt. Choosing Scott had been mean. She’d known it then. Cole’s hang-up was money. Katie, on the other hand, could’ve cared less. She saw things much more simply. She loved Cole and loved the ranch. There was no other place she’d rather be. But Cole didn’t get that. He only saw the negatives, only the things missing. He didn’t understand that some things in life couldn’t be worked for or bought. Some things were just . . . well, free.

  Scott’s hand slid to her knee, his thumb making small circles against her thigh. She shifted her leg and hoped he’d get the point; she really didn’t want to smack him.

  “What’s wrong?” Scott’s body shifted in his seat, crowding her against the passenger door, his gaze glued to her chest. “You wore that dress for a reason. Let’s see if you’re worth the sixty bucks I dropped at dinner.”

  Jerk. She’d spent more than that on her dress, but his comment succeeded in making her feel cheap. Katie moved the wrap to cover her chest and tugged at the hem of her skirt. It hadn’t seemed too short in her bedroom when she was imagining Cole looking at her, but now . . .

  “Here, take a little more. This’ll relax you.” He slurred over the words as he shoved the bottle under her nose. The sickening smell of alcohol had her gagging in response. She pushed it out of her face and threw him a dirty look. Didn’t he realize that if he needed to get his date drunk, then maybe there was something wrong with his seduction?

  “Just take me home, Scott.” But even that wasn’t the best plan. Maybe if she kept alert and made him drive with the windows down, she could keep him from killing them both.

  “No way. We just got here.” His hand slipped its way passed her closed thighs. “This is what you wanted when you asked me to the Prom, right?”

  This was what she’d thought she wanted for one brief flash of stupidity, but now she just wanted to be home, curled up in bed with a good book.

  She pushed his hand off. “Stop,” she said with force, surprised at how far his hand had gotten.

  “All right, all right, don’t get your panties in a wad. How about a kiss then? What’s the big deal in that?” But there was a twinge of anger in his voice that had Katie’s stomach doing cartwheels. She placed her hand flat against her belly and tried to take up as little room as possible.

  He moved forward, his breath hot and stale on her cheek, and placed one hand on either side of her hips, pinning her in.

  Katie’s gaze darted outside the window. It was dark. They’d driven for over a quarter of a mile once they’d left the main highway. There was nothing around, not a streetlight, not a gas station. Just darkness, blacker than midnight under a skillet. She bit her lip and glanced at the clock on the dash—11:27. Damn, she didn’t have time for this; she’d be in so much trouble if she broke curfew. Even worse trouble if her pa found out she was in a car with someone who had been drinking.

  “Then you’ll take me home?” she asked. She couldn’t believe she was bartering for a ride, but her self-esteem had gone a few too many rounds with a bucking bull, and now she felt very small.

  “Sure, no problem.” He leaned on in. His wet lips opened on contact as he slipped his tongue between her teeth. His mouth mashed against her face, cutting off her breath as his tongue invaded, making her gag.

  Katie turned her head and pushed hard against his chest. “Okay, enough. Now take me home.”

  “Come on,” he pleaded and lowered his head for another kiss.

  “No, Scott. Let’s go, I need to get home.” Katie tried to keep strong, but her voice cracked.

  “That’s it? Really?” Scott slammed his hand into the seat next to her head. Anger distorted his features, making him ugly. How had she ever thought he was cute? “I knew you were a prude, but when I saw you in that dress I thought you’d at least be cool. You’re nothing but a dick tease, and not a very good one at that.”

  In another time, another place she would’ve called him out on that. She would’ve laid into him. She would’ve told him that his acne wasn’t as cleared up as he thought, and that his breath stank, and that no real man would pressure a girl to prostitute herself for a ride home. But Katie was scared.

  Her gut twisted even more. She was blessed with two men who sniffed and prowled around like alpha dogs, growling at anyone who threatened her. Be it either a bruised knee or a bruised ego, all she had to do was call and they’d be there to pick her up and brush her off.

  So the taste of powerlessness was new to her, and though bitter, she swallowed hard and fortified her spine. Katie shrugged her shoulders like his words didn’t hurt, and threw a look like she was bored. “Whatever, let’s just go.”

  “Whatever? You know what? Whatever this . . .” He opened the car door and pushed.

  Katie barely caught herself before sprawling hard to the ground. Her hand stung as the bite of gravel cut into her palm, but she quickly found her feet. “Are you serious?” she yelled at the open door.

  “Oh yeah,” he screamed, then added foul curses for good measure. With an evil smile he reached over and slammed the door. The engine revved as he peeled out, coughing up a cloud of dust. For a long moment she watched the car fishtail back onto the dirt road, and she waited for him to stop and let her back in. Then her brain unfroze and panic rushed in like a kick to the head. He was going to leave her here alone, stranded in the dark, with nothing.

  “Wait!” She chased after the car in three-inch heels. “My purse! My phone! You can’t leave me here without my phone.” She yanked off her shoe, breaking the strap, and threw it, aiming for the rear window.

  The red taillights grew small and a hand poked out the driver’s side window. With a wave and a mocking beep of the horn he was gone. Katie limped to a stop. This seemed like the blackest of all nights and this road the most deserted of all places.

  Something sharp pierced the tender flesh of her foot as the dark shadows swarmed around her. She bit back a cry, then stopped and slowly sank to her heels, finally letting the tears come.

  Thank you, God.

  Cole’s prayer wasn’t colored by sacrilege—no, it was heartfelt, with a profound sense of appreciation. He took another long pull from the icy-cold beer by his bedside table and placed it back down.

  Tonight was Friday. He’d made it through the week. That alone was enough for his silent thanksgiving, but it got better. He’d already done his due diligence on half a six-pack of beer and one shot of cheap tequila. He was riding the fine edge between drunk and the perfect buzz. And if that wasn’t enough, then praise God, because all signs indicated that he was going to get laid tonight.

  The bottle-dyed redhead—because no one had hair naturally that color—kissed his bare chest, her tongue making small circles around strategic parts of his anatomy. Her name was Veronica, and he’d met up with her at the local bar. More often than not, he ended up alone, not having enough money or the patience to keep the drinks coming and pull off a successful “pick-up.” But this time the sweetest of all combinations won out.

  She was desperate, and he was willing. It was a perfect end to a long week, if you asked him.

  In the harsh light of the liquor store, Veronica had looked tired, and a bit older than her self-proclaimed age of thirty. But here, in the delicious darkness of his bedroom, her body was soft, and his memory forgiving. It helped that her mouth hovered somewhere around his navel, and, good Lord, she began fumbling with his belt buckle.

  He held his breath. If she was going to do what he really, really hoped she was going to do, then he’d give thanks to all the apostles and saints.

  He was so tired. Bone tired, weary tired, old-man-sick-of-living tired. A body in his twenties had no business feeling like this, but he did. He worked from dawn to dusk and then some. The chores always kept coming, and the bills never stopped. At this rate, he’d be keeping his father company, and then there were the days when that thought didn’t seem so
terrible.

  So yeah, he deserved a bit of reprieve from the grind, dammit. Then Cole shook his head. Whatever he did, he’d better keep his mouth shut. And he was so close. All he had to do was keep his stupid mouth from flapping and not mess this up.

  Veronica giggled. “This belt buckle is a bit tricky.”

  It was a standard freaking belt buckle, but she was drunk—and again he thought, willing—so he restrained a sigh and helped her out. Lord knows anything to move the process along.

  Come on, come on, come on already.

  “Oh my, what do we have here?” she said in what he believed was supposed to be a sexy voice, but he just needed her to be quiet.

  And then she was . . . and he let out a sigh. If he was less of a man, he might have wept. As it was, he closed his eyes and let his body relax for the first time in weeks.

  A loud buzzing sounded by his ear. A vibration of plastic against glass. He slitted his eyes and glared at the bedside table. His phone went still, then continued its happy rhythm against one of his empty beer bottles. He growled, actually produced an animal-like sound deep in his throat. He decided to ignore the call, then reached for his phone instead.

  The caller ID flashed “unknown.” There was no earthly or logical reason to answer, except somewhere in his fuzzed-out brain he knew Katie was not home safe in her bed. That was reason enough.

  He flipped the phone open and grunted. “What?”

  A computerized voice crackled on the line. “To accept a collect call from . . . Katie . . . please press one.”

  Hot and cold rushed through his veins, burning the alcohol from his brain like a wildfire. In the same moment he pushed Veronica off and strained to see the keypad in the dark. He pressed where he thought the number one should be. “Katie? Katie, what’s wrong? Where are you?”