“Right.” Turning back to Rocket, I let my head fall forward. The horse nuzzled me with his velvety nose, the first time he’d ever shown me any kind of affection. I stroked the soft fur and blinked hard. “Thanks, boy. I needed that.”
Chapter 8
Thankfully, the rest of the day was much less dramatic than the morning. Sure, everything didn’t go perfectly. We were dealing with animals, after all. There was always some kind of chaos going on. Though Rocket was on his best behavior for once. It was as if he sensed I was upset and didn’t want to make things worse.
Aunt Sandee had always told me horses were tuned into people’s feelings. I never believed her. To me they were big, stubborn, and a little scary. Today, Rocket helped me see another side of his personality. This side I actually liked. Unlike Elvis, the ever-crowing rooster. He was up to no good all day long. And by the time the sun was hanging low over the western horizon, I was ready to throw him on a pot and cook him for dinner.
The hard work helped distract me. That was the best part of it all. I didn’t sit around thinking about Clay, about the child that might be his, or might not. The fact that he was so predictable when it came to women. And that he hadn’t even tried to deny that he’d treated me pretty much the same way he’d treated every other girl he’d slept with in his truck.
Since the summer he’d broken my heart, I’d believed he was a total tool. An asshole that broke women’s hearts for kicks and felt absolutely no remorse. I’d spent a little time with him since then, and now I wanted to believe he wasn’t all bad. I wanted to believe he possessed some redeeming qualities. But maybe that was just hopeful thinking. And maybe I was an absolute fool for believing a word he said.
I knew, as the day wound down and the workers left, that he would come looking for me, wanting to talk.
I wasn’t ready.
I needed time to think.
Outside the barn, I glanced around, looking for him. I didn’t find him, which was a good thing. Maybe he wanted to give me time to digest everything I’d learned this morning. Then again, maybe he was repairing the broken fence in the far pasture. Whatever. Didn’t matter. I was going inside, having some dinner alone, and losing myself in a book.
I waved a goodbye to one of the boys and stomped up to the porch, yanking off my nasty boots before going inside in my stockinged feet. My stomach rumbled but I headed to the bathroom first. Shower. Then food. I smelled like shit. Literally.
Roughly twenty minutes later, I excited the bathroom smelling a lot better and wearing nothing but a bath towel. Water dripped from my wet hair as I hurried to my bedroom to get dressed.
I’d just stepped into my panties when I heard the first round of knocks on the front door.
I’d gotten them to my hips when the second series thumped through the house.
I sighed then yanked on a sweatshirt and jumped into a pair of jeans.
The third series of knocks started just as I was making my way through the living room, toward the front door. I opened it.
It was Clay.
Holding a bunch of wildflowers (weeds).
A round of nonstop sneezes kicked in, and I blurted, “Allergic,” while stabbing my index finger at the cause.
Reacting quickly, Clay turned around and tossed them out the open door. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”
Standing in the door, I blinked watery eyes and tried to smile. “It’s okay. How would you, right? I’ve been downing antihistamines all week. It’s the thought that counts.”
“So does that mean you’ll let me in? I’d like to talk.” He gave me one of his trademark smiles.
I hesitated, waffling back and forth between letting him in and not. If I let him in, I couldn’t trust myself to just talk. The chemistry between us was way too strong. One thing would probably lead to another. And I didn’t need to have sex with him again. That would only make this whole situation that much more confusing. If I didn’t let him in, things would be awkward between us for a while. But it would give me time to figure out whether Clay Walker was the fucking jerk I’d thought or not. “No, I don’t think you should come inside tonight.”
His expression soured, the smile wilting. “Oh.” He looked like a kid who’d lost his puppy.
“I need some space. To think about things. I mean...” I stared into his eyes and forgot what I was going to say. “I mean...” A million thoughts raced through my head.
Clay lifted his hands. “I get it. I’ll back off.” He took a step back as if to illustrate, backing out the door. “No need to explain. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned. His boots thumped down the wood steps.
I took one last look at him and closed the door.
Wow, did I feel shitty.
Why was that? I shouldn’t feel guilty. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I just needed some time to figure things out. It would help if I had someone to talk to, someone I could trust. Someone who knew Clay and was objective.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to find either around here. No friends of his could be trusted to tell me the truth. And the women...? Not going to be objective, that was for sure. Not if he’d slept with them.
There was one exception. One girl even Clay wouldn’t fuck.
His sister.
She wouldn’t be objective. But she still might be able to give me some insight.
Was she still living in Dawson? Clay hadn’t mentioned her at all since I’d come back.
My stomach reminded me, with a loud growl, that I hadn’t eaten in hours. I threw together a salad and stuffed some into my mouth as I searched Aunt Sandee’s kitchen, looking for the phone directory.
Dawson was one of those towns that was stuck in the nineteenth century. They still printed a phone and address directory, listing every single household by name. But the problem was, I didn’t know if Clay’s sister, Carrie had married. She might have a different last name. Or she might have left the state. It was a total long shot. But I wouldn’t lose anything by trying.
I scored the latest directory in a drawer. Past editions were stacked in the living room on the bottom bookshelf next to the fireplace. Aunt Sandee was like that, never threw away stuff. Especially anything to do with her hometown.
A few turns of the page, and I found an entry for Carrie Walker. It was a freaking miracle. She was still single, living in an apartment in town.
I checked the clock. It was still early. I could take a little drive into town and check in with her. Although we hadn’t bee super-close when I was in high school, we did hang out together a few times.
I grabbed my bag and jumped into my car, and within minutes I was bumping and rattling down the road toward downtown Dawson. I passed corn fields and pastures and hay fields, the smell of cow manure and fresh cut hay blasting through the open windows.
***
Downtown Dawson looked a lot like most Wyoming small towns. Tired and dusty, both sides of Main Street lined by typical western-looking buildings with tall front facades and long porch roofs held up with hand-carved timber posts. I parked in front of the pizza restaurant located in the only two-story building on Main Street and looked up. The apartments were above. The entries probably in the back.
I circled around the building and climbed the staircase, pausing at the top to question whether I was being an idiot or not.
I knocked before I could answer my own question because if I waited, I would probably chicken out and run.
No answer.
I didn’t bother knocking again. Either Carrie wasn’t home or she didn’t want visitors. I’d have to try another time.
Disappointed, I stomped down the stairs and wandered around to the front of the pizzeria. I flopped into my driver’s seat and stared out the windshield, trying to decide if I wanted to head to the nearby pub for a drink or just call it a night and go home.
While I was sitting there, trying to convince myself I wouldn’t look like a loser going into the pub alone, I caught sight of a couple out of the corner of my eye. They wer
e strolling down the sidewalk, his arm flopped over her shoulder.
I took a closer look at them. They were coming this way, but with the setting sun behind them I couldn’t make out more than silhouettes. They looked so sweet and in love. Their steps in perfect time with each other. The bodies linked, moving as one. The sound of the woman’s laughter echoed through the quiet.
They strolled past the pizzeria's window, the light illuminating their faces.
Ohmygod!
My heart stopped.
It wasn’t.
It couldn’t be...
Clay.
That bastard!
I looked at the woman. Was it Carrie?
No, that wasn’t his sister. It’s been a few years since I’ve seen her, but I was sure that wasn’t her. This girl is pretty, in a very trying-too-hard kind of way, with her heavy makeup and fuck-me clothes. No, this girl was after one thing—Clay’s dick. And, gauging from the look on his face, she was going to have it.
What a fool I’d been! How did that saying go? A tiger never changed its stripes? Yes, pretty sure that was it. And once a jerk, always a jerk.
Clay’s companion leaned in and kissed his cheek, whispering something in his ear.
He nodded and, absolutely clueless that I was sitting right in front of them, he walked by, headed who-knew-where. Maybe the freaking pasture to have dinner and a fuck under the stars.
In no mood to be in public now (though a lot of alcohol would be good), I started my car and steered out of the parking spot. And, somehow, even though I was determined to drive home and put an end to this fucked up day, I ended up stopping in front of the pub. I blamed my bruised ego. It needed some soothing male recognition. I might be a fool, but I was a hot fool. Surely there’d be plenty of men in the pub willing to help me feel less... forgettable.
One drink. After the day I’d had, I deserved one drink.
I grabbed my bag and went inside.
The place was a pit. Narrow. Dark. Packed with people. One quick look around and I noticed the clientele was older than I expected. The men all dressed in cowboy hats, faded jeans, gray stubble and lots of tattoos. The women didn’t look a whole lot different than the men—minus the stubble...for some of them. The place stank of stale beer and sweat. Hank Williams wailed on hidden speakers. A few heads turned my way as I stepped inside, shoes scuffing across the rough plank floors. I wiggled and bumped my way between tables to the long bar lining the wall to the left. A busty girl with her tits practically falling out of her top asked for my order. Second-guessing my decision, I ordered a beer and turned to see if I’d made as big a mistake as I’d originally thought.
“Well, hello there, darlin’,” a man at least thirty years older than me said as he eyed me up and down. This creepy leer was not what I’d been hoping for when I’d come in here. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Feeling totally out-of-place, I gave my elderly admirer a little smile then turned back to the bar. This was definitely not my crowd.
“’S’cuse me, but since when did a nice compliment like that deserve such a chilly reception?” the man said, his scowl turning his wrinkles into deep lines. He leaned closer, the stench of his breath making my eyes water. “Think you’re too good for me, bitch?”
Aw crap. Nothing was going right for me today. I was done. Out of there.
The bartender set my beer on a little paper napkin and proclaimed, “That’ll be five dollars.”
I fished a five and a one out of my purse, handed it to her, and then walked away, leaving the full beer on the bar. I side-stepped around groups of middle-aged people, jabbering and flirting and drinking way too much and finally plunged outside, into the fresh air. I sucked in a deep breath, let it out slowly.
I stomped back to my car and flopped into the driver’s seat. So much for consoling myself with some alcohol and a little male attention. I shoved the key in the ignition and gave it a crank. The engine turned over, and over... and over. It didn’t start.
Shit. I didn’t need this now.
I twisted the key again, and once more the engine sputtered but didn’t start.
This day was royally fucked.
First, I’d been screwed by Clay. And now I was screwed, thanks to my piece of crap car. How was I going to get back to the ranch?
I was done. Done! If that fucking lawyer came up to me right now and told me I could leave tonight, go back to Michigan, and still inherit my aunt’s money, I would scream for joy... and immediately get my ass back to civilization.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
I let my head fall forward, forehead resting on the steering wheel. What was I going to do?
Someone knocked on the passenger side window.
If it was the asshole from the bar, I was in trouble. Stupid me, I hadn’t locked the doors. He could be a total ass out here and attack me. And who would hear me? It wasn’t like there were hundreds of people wandering the streets.
I jerked my head up, heart racing...
Chapter 9
It wasn’t the creep from the bar. That was a small relief.
But that didn’t mean my fucked up day was getting any better. The someone knocking on my window, yeah, It was someone else I didn’t want to see. It was Clay. And his fuck friend.
“Are you all right?” Clay shouted through the closed window.
I nodded and tried my damnedest to produce a convincing smile. “Sure.”
He saw right through my fake smile, dammit. “What’s wrong?”
Behind him, his friend glowered. “Baby, what are you doing?” She wrapped a possessive arm around his neck and flattened her body against his back. “Let’s go.”
He peeled her arm away. “Amber, give me a minute, will you?”
Amber put her lips up to Clay’s ear and said something I didn’t hear. I was glad the window was still closed because I did not want to hear what she had to say. Then she stepped back and folded her arms under her tits, sending me a squinty I-hate-you-bitch glare.
The feeling was mutual.
Clay gave me a look that said he wasn’t going anywhere until I fessed up.
I sighed. “My car won’t start.”
“Again? Mike told me he fixed it.”
“He did. It was working for a while.”
Clay flipped his hand flat and wagged his fingers. “Pop the hood. Let me take a look.”
I didn’t want this asshole helping me again. But what else could I do? It wasn’t like another mechanic would come come strolling down the road this late. If he did, it was more likely he’d be staggering and drunk. I pulled the lever, releasing the hood’s latch. Then I tried to pretend like I didn’t see the angry bitch giving me the death-stare while Clay fiddled with the car’s motor.
I opened my door both to allow some air to flow (it was getting hotter than fucking Hades in there) and to facilitate communication with Clay, since I couldn’t open the window without starting the car.
“Okay, try it now,” he shouted.
I turned the key and held my breath.
No deal.
“Now.”
I tried.
The car failed.
Clay pulled the hood closed and circled around to my open door. “Looks like you need a new starter. Do you need a ride back to the ranch?”
I did. But... shit. Did I really have to accept a ride from Clay and his latest screw?
What did I do to deserve this? What?
My life sucked.
Defeated, I nodded.
Amber gave me a look so icy I swore the air around her froze. But what could I do? The ranch was at least ten miles outside of town. I didn’t feel like taking a three hour hike down pitch-black country roads alone. Not with all the bobcats and bear out here.
“Come on,” Clay said, my truck’s parked around the corner.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, watching Amber grab his hand and fall into step beside him. Wasn’t this lovely? I adored being the third wheel, especially when
I was getting my face rubbed in the fact that the guy in question was the one I’d recently fucked.
Our sweet little threesome rounded the corner and I grimaced. Clay’s truck wasn’t huge. It didn’t have an extended cab. And the front bench seat didn’t exactly hold three adults comfortably. Not to mention, I did not want to sit next to Amber, with her bitch-face still in full bloom. No. I’d rather sit in the bed. Even though it reminded me of last night.
Had it really been just one night?
Clay tried to act all gallant and opened the passenger side door. “Morgan?”
I glanced at Amber. No. Just... no. I was not sitting between Clay and Amber. “I’ll take the back,” I stepped aside to let his date take the seat of honor.
Clay blocked the door. “No, you will not ride in the bed.”
“But...” I hooked my thumb toward the visibly furious Amber. “Someone else called dibs on that spot.”
“No, she didn’t,” he insisted, not even glancing at his date.
“Yes, I did,” Amber snapped. ”I’m not fucking riding in the bed. It’ll mess up my hair. And there isn’t enough room for three of us in there.” She pointed at the cab.
“Which is why you aren’t going.” Moving quickly, and catching me by surprise, he grabbed my shoulder and gave it a little shove, toward the truck. “Let’s go.”
“But...” I said over my shoulder. I reached up and stepped on the running board. And within seconds strong hands were at my waist, lifting me. I plopped onto the seat, tingles sweeping up and down my body.
Amber looked like her head was about to explode. “What the hell, Clay? Are you ditching me?”
“Yes.” Voice calm and cool, Clay circled the front of the truck.
“But! Why?” she screeched, tailing him, teetering on her stupid heels.
“Because,”Clay said, his trademark panty-melting smile spreading across his face, ”I’ve been trying to find a polite way to say goodnight to you all evening. And now I’ve found my chance.”
Amber shrieked a string of curse words that would make a hardened criminal blush while he got into his truck and started it.
I watched the spectacle, finding myself feeling a little sorry for her. After all, she was being left in the lurch. That sucked. Been there. Done that. And, although she’d treated me like scum, my beef wasn’t with her. It was with Clay, who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Or didn’t want to. Either way, he was a bastard.
Jerk: A Bad Boy Romance Page 6