Texas Outlaws: Cole

by Kimberly Raye

  She’d watched him chase after everything in a skirt all through middle school and high school, when all she’d ever wanted was for him to chase after her.

  Fat chance.

  He’d been six years older than her and so he’d never seen her as anything other than a kid.

  Still...she’d wanted him to at least notice her. Even just a little.

  Much the way Colby had hoped for April to finally notice him.

  She hadn’t, any more than Cole had paid Nikki no nevermind.

  And now you’re married to the guy.

  But it wasn’t real. Even if it had felt just that for a split second last night when she’d been in his arms and he’d been kissing her and—

  “We should get to work.” She walked behind the bar and reached for an apron stashed just to the left of the cash register. “The sooner we start, the sooner we can wrap it up.”

  “Yeah.” He turned toward the bucket and mop. “But just so you know, I won’t be doing this forever. I’ve got plans. Ideas. I’m going to hit it big one day and I’ll be a hundred times better than some stupid steer wrestler. And then she’ll be sorry.”

  “I’m sure she will be.” Her gaze met the young man’s and she gave him a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry about her, Colby. You’ll make some girl very happy someday and you’ll forget all about April.” He nodded, but she knew he wasn’t the least bit convinced.

  She didn’t blame him.

  She’d told herself to forget Cole all those years ago, and still he’d lived on in her fantasies.

  Which made what should have been a simple fake marriage of convenience much more complicated than her inebriated brain had anticipated last night.

  Not that she was changing her mind and backing out now. Her Sundays were usually spent doing inventory and cleaning toilets and restocking the bar—under her mother’s watchful eye, that was. But Raylene had yet to even show up, and so Nikki went on to spend the day in the honky-tonk’s sizable kitchen, working on more béarnaise sauce and even a steak tartare. She perfected both, too, thanks to nine hours of uninterrupted concentration.

  It turned into the most productive day she’d had in...well, forever, and a taste of what it would be like to spend her days doing only what she loved. No slinging hash at the bar, no avoiding her mother, no pretending to be something she wasn’t. Just hours and hours filled with her passion. Her purpose.

  She sampled the tartare.

  Okay, so maybe she wasn’t that passionate about the complicated dish. While tasty, it just wasn’t nearly as filling as it should have been.

  Earth to Nikki? It’s an appetizer. It’s not supposed to fill you up. Just whet the appetite. Zing the taste buds. And pave the way for the real star of the meal—the entrée.

  She took another bite and ignored the sudden craving for a cold slice of pizza sitting in the nearby refrigerator.

  No pizza. No fast food. Nothing that kills the palate.

  She settled for a third bite and a long swig of water before turning to work on the massive pile of dishes created by one small plate of near-raw beef.

  A half hour later, she locked up the bar and headed around to the back staircase. A single bulb buzzed overhead surrounded by a flurry of tiny moths. The rear parking lot sat empty except for her ancient Chevy single cab parked near the stairs and a small Dumpster that sat at the side of the building.

  Which meant that Cole Chisholm wasn’t still asleep on her couch.

  Not that she’d expected as much.

  It was nine hours since she’d left the apartment and the man did have a life. It wasn’t like he was going to sit around waiting for her to come home so they could play house. He was probably at the arena, giving some bronc hell.

  Thankfully.

  She’d had an incredibly productive day for the first time in a long time, and fighting with her own raging hormones would definitely kill her good mood. As it was, she wanted a shower and a good night’s sleep, and she wanted both without worrying if Cole Chisholm was stretched out half-naked on her sofa.

  While she had no doubt he would come back eventually—he’d brought a monstrous duffel bag, after all—she desperately hoped it wouldn’t be until much later. Long after she’d climbed into bed and fallen fast asleep.

  Just give me a few hours. She sent up the silent prayer and mounted the steps.

  At the top, she crossed the small concrete walkway and reached for the doorknob.

  It swung inward before she could so much as close her fingers around the metal, and she realized in a startling instant that like most men, the big guy upstairs hadn’t heard a word she’d said.

  Because Nikki Barbie wasn’t alone.

  8

  COLE WAS HOME.

  That’s what she told herself as she walked into the dark interior of her apartment and saw the shadow sitting on the sofa. Waiting.

  Cole had ditched his car and walked, and he was here now. Home to the little wifey.

  The shadow shifted and fear raced up her spine because no way was that Cole. The shoulders were too narrow. The physique too thin.

  It was someone else.

  A burglar ransacking the place and stealing her blind? A mass murderer who’d decided to carve her up like a Thanksgiving turkey and make her his next victim? She debated between the two as anxiety rolled through her, followed by a rush of dread when she caught the familiar scent of perfume and Marlboro cigarettes.

  Forget the burglar or the mass murderer. It was worse, much worse.

  “I thought about getting married once.” Raylene’s familiar voice bounced off the walls and the anxiety turned to full-blown fear.

  It was worse, all right.

  It was her mother.

  “I was staying with my grandmother down in Port Aransas for a summer,” her voice echoed in the shadowy room. “You never knew her. She died before you and your sisters were born. She was a decent woman. Needy like my mother, but then that was the way with most women back then. My grandfather died early on, so I never really knew him. Just her. She didn’t cook much. We did mostly sandwiches when I went to stay with her. She had this little place on the beach. A small house, but I always thought that it would make one hell of a bar. A little place to dish up margaritas and listen to music. Of course, it’s little more than a run-down shack now, but with a little work...” Her voice trailed off and faded into the frantic beat of Nikki’s own heart.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  “No,” she bit out. “I’m not okay. Not at all.” Her words were cool and precise, just like Raylene most of the time. But there was an undercurrent moving through the room, like a storm brewing, waiting for the first lightning strike.

  “That’s where I got the initial idea for the Giddyup,” Raylene went on. “Of course, it’s a lot bigger than any tiny beach bar, but then I wanted something substantial for you girls. Something you could call your own so you would never have to worry about money.” A bitter laugh followed. “Fat chance of that. I can barely pay salaries as it is.”

  The comment caught her off guard and Nikki couldn’t help herself. She’d meant to let her mother get it all out, and get the confrontation over with, but the words were out before she could stop them. “I thought the bar was doing good.”

  “Good for a small town. That means I can make the payments on three different mortgages, but a profit? In my dreams. No, I’m just making ends meet. But there won’t be much chance of that now with everyone gone. I’ll have to hire some people and I can barely afford what I have.”

  “I didn’t know—”

  “Don’t interrupt the story,” she cut in, her voice pinched and Nikki knew immediately while she wasn’t drunk, she’d had a few drinks.

  “Why don’t you let me make some coffee and then you can tell the story�
��”

  “No,” she cut in. “I’m telling my story and you’re going to listen. I was seventeen and he was nineteen and, well, it was the best sex I’d had in a long time and that can mess up a woman’s thinking. I thought about it, but then I caught him kissing another girl. I wasn’t even mad. No, I was grateful because he’d done me a huge favor by showing his true colors before I made a big mistake. That’s what’s going to happen to you.” She pushed to her feet. “He’s going to cheat and you’re going to be humiliated and then you’re going to come running back here. But there won’t be a here.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “No sense in me busting my ass every day to give you something so that you don’t need a man, when you up and marry one anyway. Not when I could be lazing on the beach with a margarita.” She pushed to her feet and started pacing. “Twenty-seven years I sacrificed,” Raylene moaned. “Twenty-seven years busting my ass, trying to raise you girls, to teach you something, and for what? So you could go off and chain yourself to a bunch of rodeo heathens. I raised you better than this.”

  I’m sorry. It’s not real. Don’t hate me.

  The words jumped to the tip of her tongue, but she fought them back down and gathered her courage. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

  “Then put a stop to it now.” Raylene turned on her. The dim glow of the kitchen light nearby pushed into the room, casting a slither of light across her desperate face. “Kick him out and we’ll chalk it up to nerves and we’ll go downstairs right now and I’ll show you how to make a Bloody Mary with a twist.” Crazed hope lit her eyes. “I can show you how to make anything you want and then you can handle the bar while I run the floor. It’ll be just the two of us. Forever.”

  “We fell for each other,” Nikki blurted, the prospect of spending the rest of her life at the Giddyup sparking a rush of raw anxiety. “It was love at first sight.”

  “It was lust.” Raylene shrugged. “You’re horny. I understand. A woman has needs.”

  That she should never, ever discuss with her own mother.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Sure, it is. He’s good-looking. I’m sure he has a great big—”

  “We’re in love.” The words tumbled out of Nikki’s mouth so fast that they almost tripped over one another. “I love him and he loves me.” She didn’t mean to say it. She was already near smoking from all the lies, but then Raylene wanted to talk about Cole’s you-know-what and it was a conversation she wasn’t ready to have with herself, much less her mother. “We’re soul mates.”

  “No.” Raylene shook her head frantically. “Don’t say such a thing.”

  “We might even get matching shirts—”

  “Stop!” Raylene’s face turned red and then purple, but she didn’t say anything. She just stood there, as if trying to decide whether to strangle Nikki or throw herself out the nearest window. “I see,” she finally said, her voice quiet. “I guess there’s nothing else to say.” She snatched up her purse and pushed past Nikki. “I need to get out of here. You’ll regret this,” she muttered, marching past Nikki. “Mark my words.” And then she did what Nikki had been waiting for since the idea had sparked last night—she marched through the door without another word. Hinges creaked and wood cracked and the door slammed, and it was done.

  Nikki fought down her guilt and the urge to go after her.

  If she did that, she could kiss goodbye her dream of ever being a professional chef. No acing her finals. No internship. No five-star restaurant.

  Nothing but fried pickles and Bloody Marys and Raylene for the rest of her life.

  While she loved her mother, she didn’t want to spend a lifetime with her.

  No, she was doing the right thing. The only thing. Her back was to the wall and a fake marriage with Cole Chisholm was the only way out.

  He’d reached out a hand to her. Her savior. Her hero.

  Again.

  The notion stirred a familiar rush of heat and she found herself wondering when he would come back. And whether or not he would pull off his shirt and stretch out on her couch and—

  Her stomach grumbled and she knew she didn’t stand a chance in hell of relaxing or falling asleep right now.

  Which meant there was no better time than the present to get started on her next dish for finals.

  She drew a deep breath and tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. She’d done it. She’d faced off with her mother and now there would be blessed distance. Two weeks of it and then it was Houston, here I come.

  The worst was over.

  She held tight to the knowledge as she headed for the kitchen.

  * * *

  OKAY, SO MAYBE the worst was just getting started.

  Nikki came to that realization several hours later as she tossed and turned and tried to forget the all-important fact that Cole was back. And on her sofa. And half-naked.

  He’d come in a few hours ago and she’d retreated into her room, and she’d been fighting the urge to take a peek ever since.

  Maybe he kept his shirt on.

  That’s what she told herself. But men like Cole Chisholm didn’t sleep with their shirts on. They took them off. And maybe even their pants. And their undies.

  If they even wore undies.

  Ugh. Raylene had been right. Nikki was horny.

  She stifled the thought and tried to shut her eyes, but the question kept haunting her—briefs or commando?—until she finally threw back the covers and tiptoed to the door.

  Just a quick peek and then her curiosity would be satisfied. He would still have his jeans on like last night and she could forget all about her crazy speculation.

  Her hand was just shy of the doorknob when she heard Cole’s deep voice on the other side.

  “Nikki?” A knock followed. “It’s Cole. We need to talk.”

  Okay, so maybe he wanted to give her a firsthand look.

  Her heart kicked up a notch only to take a nosedive south when she opened the door to see the murderous look on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s gone,” he declared. He shook his head as if he couldn’t quite believe it. “Gone. It was here earlier, but when I went to grab it, nothing.”

  “What’s gone?”

  “The money. My money.”

  “But your wallet’s on the coffee table.”

  “Not the money in my wallet. The money. The hundred thousand dollars my father stole from that bank. I had it right here in a black duffel bag and now it’s gone.”

  Her mind rifled back and she remembered the black duffel. It had been there earlier and then...

  An image stirred. Of Raylene snagging her purse, or what Nikki thought had been her purse, and marching past, out the door. Gone.

  “I had it right here and now it’s gone,” Cole went on, his voice low and deadly a split second before his accusing stare landed on her. “And I damn well want it back.”

  9

  “ARE YOU OKAY?” Cole asked the next morning as he followed Nikki onto a monstrous RV-like black bus that had his name and sponsor list blazing in full neon green on the side. The bus, along with others like it dedicated to various rodeo stars and several livestock trailers, was parked in a lot near the Lost Gun Rodeo Arena.

  “I’m fine.” Nikki stalled on the top step and stared at the interior. “Excited, even. All brides are excited on their honeymoon. Don’t I look excited?”

  “No, you look nervous.” He came up directly behind her, dwarfing her with his large frame. “But then wild and wicked Nikki Barbie doesn’t get nervous, right?”

  “Not at all.” She should be used to his nearness by now, especially after being cooped up in a pickup truck with him for several hours for the past couple of days. But he’d been busy driving a
t the time and so she hadn’t had to worry about drawing his full attention.

  But this... Her gaze shifted in time to see him close the door behind them. This was just the two of them. Alone. Together. With no place to escape to should her hormones start raging.

  She dropped her bag to the side and stepped forward to survey the interior and put some distance between them. She bypassed a small eating area that consisted of a booth-like table on one side and refrigerator, convection oven and stove on the other. Next came a small living area with two plush leather recliners on one side and a massive flat-screen TV on the other. A few more steps and she reached a sleeping space with a full-size bed on one side and a large closet on the other. Two more steps and the aisle dead-ended into a second bed.

  “You’re definitely nervous.” Cole’s voice sounded directly behind her and she stiffened.

  “Well, I’m not, and if you start with the whole ‘Are you afraid to ride on a bus?’ thing, I’m going to slip rat poisoning into your peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich.” She turned and ducked under his arm to put a few blessed footsteps between them again.

  “I didn’t think you were afraid of riding on a bus. We’re not going to ride in it. We’re going to sleep in it.”

  “Well, I’m not afraid of that, either.” Yeah, right.

  It was one thing to have a nice solid wall between them and a small portion of hallway and an actual door, and quite another to be less than a few feet away, and in full view.

  She opened the one doorway that sat between the beds and eyed the small shower just tall enough to accommodate Cole. A small toilet sat nearby.

  “There’s not much room in here, is there?”

  “It’s actually one of the biggest buses on the circuit. I bought it last year when I won the finals. It makes getting to and from events a helluva lot easier. A driver can drive while I sleep.”

  Nikki’s mind rushed back to the moment she’d caught sight of Cole’s bus back in Lost Gun. It had looked large at first glance. But standing smack-dab inside with Cole so close, she marveled at how anyone could actually breathe in one of these things. Despite the sizable skylight built into the main compartment’s ceiling.