Bounty (Colorado Mountain #7)

by Kristen Ashley

  I walked to my front windows.

  And I stood there and stared as I saw Jim-Billy, his back to me, hands fisted and to his hips, the line of his body tight, Deke standing close to him, his head bent to the older man, his hand wrapped around the back of Jim-Billy’s neck.

  They were talking.

  I watched Jim-Billy’s back heave with what was apparently a large breath.

  Then he nodded his ball-capped head.

  Deke dropped his hand and they both turned to the house.

  I scooted out of eyesight, not an easy task as the walls were windows that rose unobstructed for two and half stories.

  I did this thinking that was at least one thing that was happening in my life that it was easy to know what to make of it.

  Jim-Billy really liked me.

  And more serenity settled inside me.

  Ty and Wood headed back out. Deke and Jim-Billy came back in. Wood and Ty also came back in, this time with a ratty armchair.

  Ty went back out to get an ottoman.

  Jim-Billy sat his ass in the armchair, lifted his dusty boots to the ottoman practically before Ty had it on the floor, looked at me and asked, “You got any beer, sweetheart?”

  “It’s not even nine in the morning,” Mr. T. stated tetchily, staring at Jim-Billy and doing it making it clear he wasn’t making much of him.

  Jim-Billy looked at him. “Who’re you?”

  “William Thurston. I’m Justice’s,” Mr. T replied.

  I waited for him to say more but apparently he meant that to say it all (and it did, and the way it did gave me more solace).

  “And you are?” Mr. T asked when Jim-Billy didn’t offer that information up himself.

  “I’m Jim-Billy. I’m Justice’s too. And I’m hangin’ with my girl here so she don’t get bored outta her mind watchin’ men hang drywall.” He turned his attention to me. “Now, darlin’, you got beer?”

  I felt my lips twitch before I said, “Coming right up, Jim-Billy.”

  I moved out to the garage, got Jim-Billy a beer and headed back.

  When I arrived I saw Mr. T was still sipping his coffee but now doing this perched on the arm of the couch.

  Jim-Billy had his hand out for the beer, which meant I didn’t waste time making it to him so I could give it to him.

  Cal was doing his thing.

  But Wood and Ty were upstairs.

  And Deke was coming to me.

  I tipped my head back when he stopped, not Deke close, which was close but also not the close I’d like.

  It was a new close. A what I thought of as a fragile-Justice-in-his-trailer close, in other words close-close, as in the close I liked.

  A close he didn’t need to use when we weren’t in his trailer but instead I was surrounded by awesome people in my huge house.

  But he used it.

  “Baby, Wood and Ty are workin’ with me today. You down with that?”

  My brows drew together. “I thought Wood owned the local garage.”

  “He does, which means he can take the day off whenever he wants. He’s also a man. And when I say that, I mean a man. Not sure he’s ever hung drywall. That said, think men like him instinctively get how to hang drywall.”

  I’d been in Wood’s presence for maybe five minutes and he’d not said a word to me and I still had the feeling he was the kind of man who instinctively knew how to do a lot of things.

  “Ty works for Wood and Wood’s givin’ him a day off to work here,” Deke informed me. “He’s worked construction so he just knows what he’s doin’.”

  “Are they, uh…does Max need—?” I stammered but Deke cut me off.

  “Max won’t care. He’s tight with Ty, they’ve worked together on jobs back in the day and if you’re talkin’ about payin’ them dick, I think we had this discussion.”

  “So crates of hooch all around,” I muttered.

  Deke grinned, caught me at the back of my head, pulled me to him, bent in, kissed my forehead then let me go and strolled to the ladder and up it.

  God, I was going to miss those bits of Deke he’d surely take away when he decided I was no longer fragile and needed his affection so I wouldn’t come flying apart.

  I turned to the improvised seating area and saw Jim-Billy belting back a slug of beer.

  Mr. T had eyes to the upstairs.

  Those eyes came to me.

  Then he rearranged his position, pulling out his phone and not perching on the arm of the couch like he would rather not have his ass touching it. An ass that was in trousers that I figured had another half back at a hotel in town, this being the suit jacket of a suit of Italian origin that cost more than that couch he was sitting on when it was new. Instead he settled right in that couch, rested his coffee cup on the arm and started sliding his finger on the phone.

  At this juncture, a vehicle could be heard.

  “Jesus,” was also heard right after, this being Cal who started heading to the door.

  “I got it,” I told him and his eyes cut to me.

  “No, you don’t.”

  At the firmness of his tone, I stopped moving.

  So Cal wasn’t playing butler.

  Even though it was highly unlikely my attacker would show in broad daylight with my house filled with people, Cal was playing bodyguard.

  So sweet.

  Cal opened the door.

  Half a minute later, Lexie sauntered through accompanied by two adorable little girls.

  She glanced at Cal, looked to me, said, “Hey,” and at my hey back, she said “Hey,” to Jim-Billy,” to which she got a, “Yo, gorgeous,” then her eyes slid through Mr. T and swung around and up where she clearly spied her husband because she called out, “Hey, baby.”

  Ty called back, “Mama.”

  Yikes.

  Ty’s rumbling “mama” might be better than Deke’s “baby.”

  Though, not better than his “gypsy.”

  “Hey, Daddy!” one of the little ones shrieked.

  “Hey, baby,” Ty called back to his daughter.

  Okay, that “baby” was even better than “mama.”

  Yeesh.

  Mountain men.

  Who knew?

  Lexie drew her girls closer to me. “Lella, Vivie, this is Miss Justice. Say hi.”

  The older girl standing and holding Lexie’s hand waved shyly.

  The younger one Lexie was juggling in an arm at her hip, shouted, “Hey, Miz Justiz!”

  “Hey, beautiful babies,” I greeted them.

  The one at Lexie’s hip beamed.

  The one holding Lexie’s hand moved into her mother’s leg and ducked her head.

  I did the round of introductions.

  Once released, Lella wasted no time sharing her wishes that she wanted to be upstairs with her father. Vivie wasted no time crawling all over Jim-Billy who tickled her and blew raspberries on her neck all of which required her to squeal loudly and with easily discernable glee. When denied access to her father, Lella then joined the crawling-all-over-Jim-Billy activities to which he put his beer to the floor so he had two hands to tickle and squeeze.

  Lexie collapsed into the couch, declaring, “Jim-Billy’s gonna look after the girls. You’re coming into town with me for a massage, mani and pedi. Nic’s got it all sorted on the schedule. But we have about half an hour before we have to leave.”

  “I’m gonna look after the girls?” Jim-Billy asked.

  “Yay! Jim-Billy!” the younger girl screeched before collapsing on Jim-Billy’s chest, making him give an audible grunt, and determinedly (with tongue sticking out and everything) trying to tickle his sides.

  “Right, I’m gonna look after the girls,” Jim-Billy muttered, doing it grinning.

  “That’s not happening.”

  This came from upstairs, it was unyielding, and it was Deke.

  Lexie looked upstairs. “Tate’s meeting us here. He’s taking us down. And he’s sticking with us while we do our thing and bringing us back.”

>   Wood showed at the edge of the upstairs landing beside Deke, his handsome face a mask of incredulity, his goatee-surrounded lips asking, “Tate is gonna hang at a salon while you girls are doing massages and getting your nails done?”

  “Yeah,” Lexie answered.

  Wood burst out laughing.

  Ty burst out laughing.

  Jim-Billy burst out laughing and Lella and Vivie both collapsed on his chest, probably not getting it but they burst out laughing too.

  Deke did not burst out laughing.

  He pulled out his phone and stepped away from the landing.

  I heard a murmured conversation, glanced around, saw a lot of smiles (except Cal, who was shaking his head while pulling at a large spool of wire he’d brought in from his SUV).

  Deke came back to the edge of the landing with no phone.

  “Tate’s gonna take you,” he declared. “He’s gonna stay with you. You do that, you come right back. No sandwiches. Nothin’, Jussy. You get right back here.”

  “You got it, boss,” I called.

  He was not amused.

  He stalked back to where he was drywalling.

  I looked to Mr. T. “You wanna hang during a mani-pedi?”

  He shook his head, pushing up from the couch. “I’ll take that as my cue to leave. I have things to do at a location where I might find Wi-Fi and wish to stop by the station to speak with Lieutenant Keaton. I’ll be back with sandwiches.”

  I glanced around and back to him. “Bring a lot.”

  He glanced around and back at me.

  When he did, I knew I was not the only one who’d been given solace that day.

  Mr. T had as well.

  “I will, Justice.”

  I grinned at him.

  He did not grin at me.

  With formal farewells, he took his leave.

  I then hung with my new posse until Tate came to take us to the salon.

  During the mani-pedi portion of the excursion, I took a call from Shambles. His tone was hushed, which told me something he didn’t say with words, this being the call was not overheard by Sunny.

  What he did say was that he and Sunny had heard what had happened, I was in their thoughts and they were going to bring me dinner one night, “later…when you’re feeling better.”

  I sussed this as Shambles protecting Sunny from anything that seeing me in my state might dredge up from her own attack.

  And I was down with that, totally. Even more so considering, if Shambles could inject heaven into baked goods, a dinner from him might be an exercise in ecstasy.

  Tate took us back to my place. Mr. T brought sandwiches, ate with us, all the guys taking a break, Lauren showing and bringing more beer (mostly for Jim-Billy, the guys didn’t drink, Lexie didn’t either, Lauren and I did).

  Mr. T took off.

  Lexie and the girls took off.

  Released from babysitting duty and Justice-entertaining duty, not long after, Jim-Billy exchanged his armchair at my house for his stool at Bubba’s.

  Tate helped the dudes for a while while Laurie and I chatted, Lauren and my conversation broken occasionally by Joss checking in, Uncle Jimmy checking in and Aunt Tammy doing the same (the latter two had been informed by Mr. T what had happened).

  Eventually Lauren and Tate took off as did Wood and Ty.

  And Deke and I took off while Cal was still working.

  Before leaving, I noticed that three (and for a while, four) men got a lot more done than one (or two). They not only made up for what Deke couldn’t do on the day he lost looking out for me, they drywalled one entire side of my upstairs.

  So sitting beside Deke in his behemoth, grumbling down my lane, I did it realizing with all that had happened that day, it felt weirdly, but mercifully, like being strangled on my bed was a blip of life.

  It happened.

  It was over.

  With the help of people who cared, I was moving on.

  I had turquoise fingernails and plum toenails. I had a massage from Lexie (who was a massage therapist) that made me feel loose and relaxed, the pain still a dull throb in my face, the aches of my body vanishing under her capable hands.

  I had new acquaintances that I had a feeling would be friends. Not only Ty and Wood, but also Dominic (also known as Nic), the outrageously flaming owner and operator of the local salon who cooed and coddled me like Deke did, except in a gay way that was hilarious at the same time heartwarming.

  And the work on my house wasn’t just still on track, it was cooking with gas.

  Thus Deke’s truck grumbled down my lane with me in the passenger seat on our way back to his kickass trailer.

  And I was smiling.

  * * * * *

  After changing into my pajamas, I opened the door to Deke’s bedroom area and I did it nervously.

  I had to ask what I needed to ask.

  But I couldn’t ask what I needed to ask.

  I looked down the hall to see the trailer dark except for Deke illuminated by the television set he was standing in front of, his tall, man-bunned head nearly brushing the ceiling of the trailer.

  He’d taken the opportunity of me behind closed door and he was back in his fleece shorts, bare chest, head turned, eyes to me.

  Before I could open my mouth, the trailer went dark because Deke switched off the TV.

  I watched his shadow lumber toward me.

  I realized he wasn’t stopping so I moved out of the doorway just in time for him to move through it and catch me with an arm hooked at my waist.

  That way, he shifted us both to the side of the bed. And with little effort and no coaxing, we both were in it.

  Deke flicked the covers over us and pulled me in his arms.

  Of course.

  Deke being Deke, I didn’t even need to ask what I needed to ask.

  “You’re right,” I told his bristly throat in the dark. “Rosalinda’s is jalapeño heaven.”

  “Told you,” he muttered.

  I’d discovered this that night when Tate, who was our night watchman, showed with Lauren, and his teenaged son, Jonas (a younger version of Tate, the resemblance was uncanny in a variety of ways, including the kid was a good kid, funny and confident to the point of cute because he was openly cocky).

  They brought Rosalinda’s.

  We’d eaten. We’d shot the shit. Lauren and Jonas left. Tate took watch.

  Now it was bedtime.

  I snuggled into Deke.

  Deke cuddled me closer.

  “So, is Jonas the most popular kid in school?” I asked.

  “Don’t know. Not in high school anymore, gypsy,” Deke answered teasingly.

  “I know that but you can still know.”

  “He’s got a steady girl. She’s young but she’s pretty in that way you were probably pretty. That way you know she’ll always be pretty just doin’ it gettin’ prettier.”

  I stared in stunned silence at his throat.

  Deke didn’t notice.

  “Jonas is a good-lookin’ kid. Smart. Good grades. Football player. Good at it, like his dad, and sayin’ that, Tate was in the NFL so Jonas is seriously fuckin’ good at it. And he landed that girl. So yeah, all that suggests he’s popular. The most popular, don’t know. Teenagers are fucked in the brain. Could be the most popular kid wears all black, has got more piercings in his nose than you got in your ears and wears eyeliner.”

  “Uh, Tate was in the NFL?” I forced through a throat still clogged with the velvety cotton candy sweetness of his compliment.

  “Blew out his knee early in his career. Became a cop. Then a bounty hunter, bar owner.”

  “Interesting life path.”

  “Best anyone can hope for. Either the contentment of knowin’ they’re right where they need to be, doin’ what they should be doin’ among the folk they should be with or takin’ a path that, least it could be is interesting, best it’s a goddamned kick in the ass.”

  “That’s quite profound, Deke,” I told him the truth.
<
br />   “It’s just real.”

  “It should be a bumper sticker.”

  I felt his body shake with laughter as he tucked me deeper under him.

  “You feel like gettin’ up and writin’ that shit down?” he asked.

  “Absolutely not,” I answered.

  I felt his words stir the top of my hair when he murmured, “Me either.”

  Okay.

  Wait.

  I did not just wake up terrified and needing his arms around me to take away the shakes, him being close to make me feel safe.

  Any friend would do that.

  I just opened the door ready for bed and there we were, in bed together, cuddling and bantering.

  Lacey would do that (including the cuddling). Bianca would too. Hell, we’d all three done that together on a variety of occasions when life got tough or we were just drunk and being crazy but doing it together.

  A male friend who knew I had a thing for him?

  No.

  I felt at this point it was safe to say that Deke’s boundaries were getting really fucking blurry.

  And perhaps at this point I needed to get a firmer understanding of them before I inadvertently stepped over a line I didn’t know was there.

  “Deke?” I called.

  “Quiet, gypsy, go to sleep.”

  “But, um…”

  I didn’t know how to broach it.

  “Wood’s back to work at your place tomorrow. Max has cleared his day so he can work with us too. Three men, two laying, one cutting, we can get more of your ceiling in.”

  I wanted a ceiling, like…bad. My ceiling was righteous, more of it would be enormously righteous.

  But I wanted more to know what was happening with Deke.

  “Honey,” I whispered.

  He pulled me up and closer so my face was in his throat.

  “Sleep, Jussy,” he whispered back. “You had a good day. Give you a good day tomorrow. Get a brief from Chace, from Decker. Get you a ceiling. That’s tomorrow. After that, we’ll worry about the next day.”

  I didn’t know what he was saying.

  But I still kinda knew what he was saying.

  Or hoped I knew.

  I also dreaded what else it could be.

  The hope was that all this meant something had changed for Deke.

  The dread was that he was just that guy who looked out for folks.