Texas Wishes: The Complete Series

by Kristina Knight

  “You realize dating one of the Witte women means dating all three, don’t you? You sure you want in on that?” Mat tossed his darts at the board and hit a bull’s-eye and two tens. At this rate Trick would never catch him.

  Monica had taken pains to assure he understood how their dating would affect her life. Now, under Mat’s questioning, he realized how much it could also impact his. Did he want in? He contemplated the dart in his hand, took position at the line, and threw at the target. The dart struck on the black, outside line of the bull’s-eye. Damn it.

  “You sure you want in with Vanessa?”

  The waitress dropped off their next round. Mat took a long pull on his beer and grinned. “Stupid question.”

  Trick only nodded, threw again, and this time hit pay dirt. Bull’s-eye, right in the center. He wanted Monica. If her family came along as part of the deal, so be it. “Besides, it isn’t like they’re the kind of inseparable sisters on television shows.”

  Mat chuckled. “They’re not far from it. Different as the day is long, but those girls fight for one another as much as they argue with one another.”

  “Says the voice of experience?” Trick measured, tossed once more, and hit the thirty marker. With one round to go, eighteen points separated them. For the first time since he’d started playing darts with Mat after moving to Lockhardt, he had a chance at beating him. It was a nice feeling.

  “Let’s just say Kathleen tried to warn me off a couple of times. And even if you win over the sisters, you don’t want to cross Mitchum.”

  “Mitch and I get along just fine.”

  “As long as your prick is in your jeans and far away from his granddaughters, you do,” said Mat as Trick let his dart fly. The dart went wild, hitting the wood paneling on the wall and dropping to the floor like a dead bird. Mat shrugged. “Just thought you should know.”

  “So, you’re warning me off Monica? Is this you talking or are you sending a message?”

  Mat considered his beer for a long moment. “Maybe a little of both. Monica isn’t the worldly girl she pretends to be, at least my gut tells me she’s not. Kind of like the shell Van used to present to the world. It’s all an act so no one gets too close. Van’s worried about her, which means Kathleen is about to have a coronary. You’re my best friend in this town, dude. I’d like to keep you around.”

  “And if I see more than a vacation fling happening with her?”

  Mat took his place at the throwing line, measured his shot and threw. Nineteen. Not bad.

  “If you’re planning on turning her into your vet tech or want her cooking your dinner every night at six o’clock, it’s not going to work.” He tossed the second dart and hit the bull’s-eye.

  Trick flicked his thumb against the pads of his fingers. This was nothing he didn’t already know. Despite how well they’d worked together to save the kitten, he knew it wasn’t Monica’s choice to be a homebody and work by his side. Even if, by some miracle, their relationship turned into something committed, Monica’s life was in Austin. It was where she trained her horses, where she lived. His practice was here, in Lockhardt, and Trick didn’t see that changing.

  He wouldn’t let it change.

  Mat took aim for his final throw and hit the bull’s-eye. No way in hell to beat him now. Trick shook his head and took his place at the line. Didn’t mean he couldn’t try.

  He hit two tens and a thirty. Mat motioned for a couple more beers and grinned.

  “You had me on the ropes for a second there.”

  Trick grunted and finished his Corona. A couple of lucky shots, that was all his run at the winner’s circle amounted to. He sat down at the table with Mat, nursed his beer, listened to the singer on the jukebox whine about lost love, and thought about what Mat had said.

  “If you want Monica, you’re going to have to be the one to bend,” Mat said.

  “I’ve already done enough bending.”

  Mat shrugged. “Then cut your losses now, so I don’t have to be Kathleen and Van’s emissary again. I like my darts without the heavy conversation.”

  “Don’t see that happening, either. She’s like an addiction. I let her go, but she’s there, in the back of my mind. Waiting.” He’d tried to give up Monica before. When she’d left for the rodeo in Utah, he’d actually made it two entire days without checking the standings to see how she was doing. As soon as the video hit the web, though, he’d been focused on getting Monica back to Lockhardt and away from the dangers of open competition.

  “For what it’s worth, Witte women are worth the frustration. At least in my experience. And the fireworks will be a nice distraction from midnight feedings and dirty diapers, if you last long enough.” Mat tossed a few bills onto the table. “Van’s waiting. You coming to the barbecue Saturday?”

  “We hadn’t talked about it.” A problem he planned to fix in less than an hour. Time to lighten the mood; get his game ready for his next date with Monica. “Did you seriously call me ‘dude’ a minute ago?”

  Mat shrugged. “California. What can I say? Some habits die hard.” He turned on his heel and left the bar.

  Trick tossed the half-full beer into a trash can and left a ten on the table for the waitress. He knew all about habits dying hard.

  • • •

  Just over an hour later, Trick dumped hot spaghetti noodles into a colander to drain, dropped a pat of butter into the still-hot pan and set it back on the burner. As the butter melted, he turned on the burner under the spaghetti sauce and put garlic bread in the oven.

  “You know, you’re the one who said you’d cook me dinner if I won our little bet.” He looked at Monica, who was sitting on the other side of the kitchen bar, watching him cook, and raised his eyebrows. “You welshing?”

  She grinned and pulled her mouth to the side. “I said ‘sometime.’ Tonight isn’t that time.”

  She wore a white sundress dotted with flowers and had left her hair loose to fall in waves past her shoulders. His faded Rangers tee and worn jeans didn’t hold a candle to her clothes. The atmosphere was nicely domestic, but Trick warned himself not to get too comfortable. If he wanted to keep Monica around, he needed to keep the surprises coming. Keep her off balance.

  “How’s the kitten?” Monica swirled her straw through the ice cubes in her glass.

  “Called Vern to pick him up day after tomorrow.” He dumped the noodles back into the pan to soak in the butter. “Did you get any sleep today?” He stirred the sauce until it was bubbling and put a lid on the pot. He cancelled the afternoon appointments, which meant the next day would be extra busy, but wasn’t able to sleep. Funny, he’d been ready to crash before his chat with Mat and now that Monica sat across from him he was wired.

  Monica chuckled. “I snuck in a nap after lunch. I think Grandfather thinks I’ve gone soft.”

  “If you’re not going to cook, you want to at least set the table?” He pulled the bread from the oven.

  She sipped her water, watching him intently from her side of the bar, and shook her head. “Not really.”

  Her green eyes went all melty, and the little pulse began pounding at her throat. Trick’s mouth went dry and his body on point at the look in her eyes. He knew that look. He’d caved to that look about twenty times in the past few weeks.

  “Well, darlin’, we can’t eat spaghetti by hand.”

  “Who said anything about having dinner yet?” Monica deliberately set her glass down and pulled an ice cube from its depths. She sucked the cube off her fingers and stood. The denim of his jeans tightened around his hips. She reached behind herself to pull the zipper of her dress down, down, down.

  “You said this morning that the next time we were together, we’d have the long, Texas night.” She pulled one strap over her shoulder and then the next. “You said no veterinary interruptions.” She pulled her a
rms free from the dress but held it to her breasts with one hand. “Why don’t you turn off dinner?”

  Trick reached behind him, flicking the burners off. “I wasn’t hungry, anyway,” he said, his voice rough.

  Monica turned and let the dress fall as she started down the hall to his bedroom. She wasn’t wearing a bra, Her lacy, boy briefs were hot pink. Long, long legs tapered down into brown boots with embroidered flowers on the sides. Before Texas, he’d been a stilettos man, not a boot man but, damn. Those boots were hotter than any high heels he’d seen.

  Maybe it was the girl in the boots that made the difference.

  Monica’s long hair swayed side to side as she walked, beckoning him to follow. Trick did.

  He entered the bedroom to find Monica sitting on his bed’s navy comforter, legs to the side and curled beneath her, the way she’d sat most of the night before, when it was her turn to feed the kitten. The setting sun blazed through his window, casting an orange glow around the room and bringing out the blond highlights in her wavy hair. Pulled forward, the long tresses partially covered her breasts. Trick took a deep breath. He was the one who was supposed to keep Monica guessing. Instead, she had him tied up in knots wondering what was next. First she wanted things to stay the way they were. Then she spent the night with him in the vet clinic. Her sisters wanted answers and were sending Mat to get them. And Monica was oblivious to the hornets’ nest she was stirring up.

  Or she just didn’t care.

  That had to be a good thing. Spending the night with him when her sisters were already hot on the relationship trail must mean she was comfortable with the dating label. Maybe she wanted more.

  The devil on Trick’s left shoulder mocked him, saying he was leaping to conclusions.

  The angel on his right echoed his hopeful thoughts.

  Both were drowned out by the voice of need, coming from deep inside, telling him to take whatever Monica was offering and hold on for dear life.

  She shifted on the bed, leaning her weight on her right arm while her left hand curled a strand of hair around her finger. They watched one another for a second, and then Trick pushed away from the door, kicked off his boots, and started for the bed.

  Monica smiled. “So, you are hungry.”

  He leaned onto his arms, putting one knee on the mattress. “You have no idea.”

  Her pupils dilated, leaving only a dark green ring of color in her eyes. Her finger stilled and she straightened her shoulders. “Trick?”

  His mouth was an inch from hers. “Yeah?”

  “Family be damned. I’m taking the night. I want to spend it with you.” The words were wisps between them, as if she couldn’t quite find her voice. She reached her arms around his neck as his lips touched hers. Sighed into his mouth.

  Still kneeling, Trick took his time, exploring her mouth the way he had a hundred times before, but it felt completely different now. As if they hadn’t been here, not in his bedroom and not in hers, not once in their commitment-free relationship zone. She tasted fresh, cool, like the best parts of a hot, Texas summer: The cool water of a shaded pond late in the afternoon. The chill of an early May morning before the sun appeared on the horizon, while the dew was still wet on the grass. Underneath it all was just Monica, kissing him back, exploring him the way he explored her.

  She tilted her head, giving him better access, as he thrust his tongue inside her mouth, then nipped its corner. She sighed before running the tip of her tongue along his bottom lip. Her hands played with the hair at his nape, urging him closer and closer.

  Trick took her face in his hands, then pulled back a fraction. “Good, because this might take all night.” He pulled her boots from her feet and smiled at the tiny white footies hiding her toes. He stripped them off and grinned at the pretty pink polish and the big, purple flower painted in the middle of her big toe.

  He stripped off his tee shirt, then pressed her back against the pillows. Monica curled one leg around his as he positioned his arms on either side of her body and buried his hands in all that glorious hair. He watched her for a long moment, drinking her and this night in. She swallowed, shifted restlessly on the bed. Ran her bare foot along his denim-encased calf.

  He lowered his mouth to hers, pulled her lower lip into his mouth, and sucked gently, mimicking her slow kiss outside the bar a few nights before. Trick knew exactly how to make Monica scream, to moan with pleasure. He knew what to do with her body to send her over the edge. Tonight, though, he wanted to see how long he could keep her balancing on the precipice.

  Her mouth was pliant beneath his, her tongue content with his slow speed. Her hands spun lazy circles on his back while his smoothed her hair. She tilted her head, pushing back into the pillows, and Trick took the opportunity. He placed light kisses over her cheek and along her jaw until his mouth found her earlobe. He pulled it between his teeth and gently bit down, and his fingers found her nipple and squeezed. The hard nub tightened even more as he rolled it between his fingers. Trick sucked her lobe into his mouth and flattened his hand over her chest as he kneaded her breast. Monica moaned in response.

  Need took over. He kissed his way down her body, pausing for a moment to play with the pulse at her throat before staking his claim to her breasts. Trick lavished attention on her dusky areolas, feasting on one, pulling it into his mouth while his fingers teased the other. He switched back and forth so that she couldn’t know what was coming next. Monica writhed beneath him, her fists clenching in the sheets. Trick sucked one nipple into his mouth, rolled around the nipple with his tongue, withdrew and blew over the moist skin. He grinned when it puckered, and she sighed.

  “More.” The word was barely a whisper, but it seemed to echo around the bedroom. A flash of light caught his attention as the sun set, turning the sky into a wonder of pinks, reds, and oranges. The beauty of the scene was nothing compared to the woman in his bed.

  And she was his for the night.

  • • •

  Monica clenched her hands against Trick’s head when his tongue found her breast again, arching her back to give him better access. Not that he seemed to need it. Trick always knew just how to touch.

  He kissed his way back to her mouth, capturing her lips with his and then ran his tongue over her chin, tracing an invisible line over her throat to the fast-beating pulse in her neck. Monica opened her eyes, wanting to take in everything from the purple tinted sky to Trick’s deep grey gaze. Only his eyes were nearly black with arousal and that sent her heart pitty-pattying against her ribs again. He wanted her and it wasn’t just physical.

  Not this time.

  Their gazes locked for a long moment and Monica took in the desire there. What tripped her up was the deeper than lust emotion she saw there. An emotion that echoed through her being as well. Trick ran his hand over her hair, smoothing a curl behind her ear.

  “Monica.” Her name was a prayer on his lips and her tummy clenched in response.

  Oh, God. She loved him. Need. Want. Both were rolled up in the love coursing through her. Was love that nebulous emotion she saw deep in his grey eyes? She had no idea and it freaked her out. She lifted her hand, mimicking his movement from a moment before.

  “Trick. I didn’t … I don’t … ” He pressed a finger against her lips, silencing her before she said anything.

  “I know I’ve pressured you to take a giant step forward, but for tonight, let’s just feel.”

  She nodded and his finger drew her lip down. She took it in her mouth and sucked.

  Trick drew in an unsteady breath. “You’re killing me.”

  Monica grinned. “By all means, make me feel.”

  He moved to her side and pushed her hands over her head, holding them there with one hand while the other drew swirls over her ribs and down her belly, making her muscles jump under his touch. The hot pink lace over her hips
drew his attention, and Trick allowed his fingers to venture lower, lower, until Monica’s breathing grew shallow as she waited for a more intimate touch. He paused at the waistband, pushing his index finger beneath the lace and Monica drew her lip between her teeth and bit down. He drew circles back over her skin toward her belly button or across to her hip bone. She mewled and pushed her head more firmly against the pillows.

  Lord, but he was good at this. Trick repeated the move, watching as her stomach muscles tensed and when she gasped his eyes darkened to a stormy grey. Again, he pushed his finger beneath the lace a scant inch and took the journey to her hip bone.

  He joked that she was killing him, but Monica wasn’t sure she would survive the sensual assault. A wave of moisture escaped her core, dampening her panties and still he kept drawing circles over her belly. Teasing at the elastic around the edges of her pink panties.

  “Trickett.” His name slipped from her lips, a whisper in the quiet room. “Please.”

  Finally he smoothed his hand over her center, across to her hips, and underneath, to her buttocks. He pulled the panties slowly over her legs, freeing her body, and kissed his way down her legs to her ankles.

  Monica lay on the bed, her hands still above her head, although he’d released her wrists to remove her underwear. She watched him need pulsing through her veins.

  “As much as I’d like to keep torturing you like this, I’m about to explode.” His words sounded rough but were a balm to her over sensitized brain.

  He kissed his way back up her legs, pausing for a moment to kiss the yellowed bruise on her hip. It was the sweetest thing he had ever done. She didn’t flinch, just closed her eyes and tilted her hips, inviting him closer.

  One finger pressed against her core, finding her wet center and pressing inside. A second quickly followed and then his thumb found the tight nub of nerves and flicked gently against it. Pressed down. Flicked again as his fingers began to move. In. Out. In. Out. Monica pressed her fists into the pillows and bit down on her lower lip as she squeezed her eyes tighter shut. He pressed against her tiny nub again, and her breathing grew shallow, coming in short gasps in rhythm with his movements.