Hill Country Hero

by Ann DeFee

  THE MOMENT Jake processed what Brenda had told him, he steered his cousin toward the Porsche. “It’s time for you guys to leave. It’s late and I don’t want you driving my car after dark.” He didn’t yell, but his cousin got the message.

  Dwayne put his hands up in the classic signal of surrender. “Hey, man. Don’t get in a dither. I thought I’d run up and let you know your car’s as good as new. And Brenda wanted to come say hi, so here we are.”

  Jake opened the car door and pushed him in. “That was a very bad idea. When you get back to Houston leave my car at my condo and give the keys to the concierge. Do not go near any of my other vehicles. Don’t call me, don’t call my mother and don’t contact Aunt Pallie. When I want to talk to you, I’ll let you know. If I hear even a peep that you’ve been driving this car again I’ll report it stolen and let the cops take care of you.”

  After he’d dealt with his cousin, Jake turned to Brenda and softened his voice. “Please go with him, and believe me, we’re not an item. We’re not dating and we’re certainly not engaged. I’m not going to call you. We’re not going to see each other.”

  Brenda put both hands on his chest and gave him a push. It was as effective as a kitten taking on a lion, but it seemed to make her feel better. She pranced to the car and jumped in.

  Dwayne’s first attempt to put the car in gear resulted in a stall. On the second try, the car leaped forward.

  “If you strip those gears, I’ll—” Jake’s threat was lost in a cloud of dust as Dwayne and Brenda made their escape.

  “The excitement’s over. Now everyone can get back to whatever you were doing,” Jake said, before he stomped off to the river.

  THIS WAS a side of Jake CiCi had never seen before. He was always so laid-back and charming, except perhaps when he was dealing with Rondelle and crew, but even then he kept his cool. In fact, the only time she’d ever seen him lose his temper was during the infamous chicken incident, and that time he’d been provoked by the very same cousin. When Daddy blew his top, Jake had let it roll off his back. But his family obviously knew exactly how to push every one of his buttons.

  Once the commotion died down and the kids were settled in for the night, CiCi adjourned to the kitchen for an orgy of chocolate cake. To her way of thinking, chocolate was the only civilized answer to an uncivilized problem.

  She might as well admit it. She was incredibly attracted to Jake Culpepper, but no matter how she looked at it, it wasn’t going to work. This episode with the blonde had put a final nail in that fantasy’s coffin. And it brought her back to the question of whether famous men were actually capable of keeping their drawers up.

  “Are you willing to share the goodies?”

  She hadn’t heard Jake come in, but there he was in the door way, looking more luscious than a slab of gooey Texas sheet cake, and it didn’t come much better than that.

  “There’s plenty. There’s also milk in the fridge. After the day we’ve had, we deserve a treat.” CiCi was determined to be cordial.

  When Jake grinned, her heart went slam, bam, thank-you ma’am. Maybe there was something better than chocolate. If he could bottle that charm, he’d be able to put Snickers out of business.

  Jake pulled the cake out of the refrigerator and cut himself a huge piece. “You’ve talked me into it.”

  “It’s mandatory to have milk with chocolate.” CiCi got up to find him a glass. “As a matter of fact, I’m fairly sure it’s one of the commandments.” She knew she was prattling, but did she care? Nope.

  CALL HIM A PERV, but watching CiCi toy with the chocolate icing was giving Jake a hard-on that would make any red-blooded American man proud. However, lusting over the boss’s daughter was out of the question. No telling what Texas Bob would do if Jake laid a pinkie on his “baby girl”—probably something nasty to a favorite part of his anatomy. And if that wasn’t enough to silence Jake’s pesky libido, he didn’t know what was.

  “It’s been quite an afternoon, hasn’t it?”

  “Brenda told me why the tabloid guy was here,” Jake said, forking up a bite of cake.

  CiCi looked surprised. “Why?”

  “Apparently, I’m a YouTube star.”

  “You are? What for?”

  “Someone filmed Angel’s rescue, and now Brenda says there’s been something like three or four million hits.”

  “Million!” CiCi squeaked.

  “Interesting, huh?”

  “I wonder if Daddy has heard about this. I talked to him after Angel’s rescue to let him know everything was okay. He wanted to come see for himself but I managed to fore stall him. But with the YouTube thing, I suspect he’ll make an appearance.”

  Jake was about to comment when the camp phone rang.

  Another midnight call. He grabbed the phone before CiCi could come around the table and get it. “Camp Touchdown.”

  WAS MERCURY in retrograde or what? All CiCi wanted was a piece of cake and a good night’s sleep. Although stripping off Jake’s Road Runner T-shirt and having her way with him was appealing, that was a nonstarter.

  “Where?” Jake demanded. It was only one word, but it held a world of meaning. She’d been at camp just three weeks and already she’d had more excitement than she’d had in the past several years.

  “When?” He gave her a look she couldn’t quite read. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

  It was Code Red time again.

  “What is it?” CiCi was trying to keep her cool but knew she was failing miserably.

  Jake propped his elbows on the table and put his head in his hands. “That idiot Rondelle and his friends snuck out and hitched a ride into town. I’m gonna kill that kid.”

  “Oh, great.” CiCi felt herself deflate. Teenagers should come with a Hazardous Cargo sticker on their foreheads.

  “It gets worse.”

  “How?” A lump formed in her throat and that meant tears weren’t far behind.

  “They got in a fight with some townies and the cops took all the underage combatants to juvenile detention.”

  Jake made a quick call to Greg, explaining the situation. He told the head counselor to commandeer the gardener’s truck, again. It was a replay of the last Rondelle debacle, except this time the law was involved.

  “No! No! No!” CiCi thumped her head on the table. She was tempted to beat herself senseless.

  “It’ll be fine, honest it will.” Jake massaged the nape of her neck.

  His touch was her undoing. It started with a sob, and then turned into a torrent of tears. CiCi wasn’t crying because of some teenage antics. Instead, she suspected she was having a long-delayed reaction to the way her life was spiraling out of control. But whatever the reason, the tears kept flowing.

  “Oh, God! Please don’t cry. Please.”

  Jake sounded distraught and who could blame him? He hadn’t signed on to deal with a full-blown lunatic. “Come here.”

  A second later she found herself on his lap with her head cradled against his chest. He was rubbing gentle circles on her back as if comforting a small child.

  The tears soon dried up, but she was hesitant to leave his arms. They felt so safe, and comfortable and right around her.

  “Are you okay?” He tipped her chin up, hesitated for a moment and then slanted his lips over hers. The kiss started off as a soft exploration of her lips but quickly became an erotic exploration of her mouth, her heart and her soul.

  Multicolored stars danced in front of CiCi’s eyes as she tried, unsuccessfully, to catch her breath. Now she knew exactly what being ravaged meant—and hot damn, it was scrumptious.

  “You are so beautiful,” he muttered as he slowly inched her tank top up to reveal her breasts. Jake gently played with her nipples but quickly replaced his hands with that magical mouth of his, rubbing her midriff as he suckled. Holy Mother!

  CiCi was about to make a complete fool of herself when Jake pulled slowly away, putting his forehead against hers. “Believe me, I really hate to menti
on this, but we have to go.”

  “Why?” Then it hit her. Rondelle and his partners in crime were in trouble again. “Oh, right. Um, why don’t you go on out? I’ll be there in a second.”

  When she hazarded a glance in the mirror she almost croaked. There were some major repairs to be made before she’d be presentable.

  “Good grief!” She had a red nose, smeared mascara, puffy lips and hair that would give the Bride of Frankenstein a run for her money. CiCi touched her lips. How could Jake even want to kiss her, much less become intimately familiar with every inch of her body?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  CiCi couldn’t believe she was sitting in Sheriff Johnson’s office, waiting to post bail for a bunch of juvenile delinquents. Thank goodness Jake and Greg were with her.

  “You seem so calm. I’m a nervous wreck.” She couldn’t stop wringing her hands. The anxiety had to be hormonal. That was it, her estrogen was overstimulated.

  Jake’s hands were folded across his stomach. “Looks can be deceiving.”

  “How long do you think it will take to process the little idiots?”

  “I hope it’s long enough to give them a scare. I suspect the good sheriff’s sick of seeing us. So—” He leaned forward as if he had something important to say but when the lawman returned he sat back.

  “Ms. Hurst, Mr. Culpepper. I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I talked to our District Attorney. We decided to give the kids a warning.” He dropped a manila folder on his desk. “Lots of paperwork, you know. And I’m missing my soft bed. So you’re free to take them home. A word of caution, though. I don’t want to see them again. Ya’ hear?”

  CiCi was willing to guarantee he wouldn’t. If Rondelle so much as sneezed in the next week and a half, he’d be on his way back to Houston. She was at her wits’ end with that boy.

  “You won’t have any more trouble from us, I promise.” She sent a couple of prayers heavenward. One, that she wasn’t the biggest fool in central Texas. And two, that the little twit and his buddies would keep their noses clean and not make a liar out of her.

  “Well, that’s about it. You can retrieve the boys from the desk sergeant.”

  CiCi stood and extended her hand. “Thank you. I’ll keep an eye on them, I promise.”

  Jake didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. His frown said it all.

  JAKE DIDN’T WANT to worry about sealed juvenile records, or hanging around a cop shop, waiting to bail anyone out. He’d extricated himself from that hole once and he didn’t intend to go for a repeat. His family was enough to deal with. Other people’s kids were not his problem.

  And furthermore, Texas Bob could take his contract and cram it up his flabby white butt. If he didn’t realize how valuable Jake was to the team that was his loss.

  The ride back to camp took forever. CiCi was trying to keep up the conversation but Jake wasn’t interested in talking. He was fed up with all the garbage.

  All he wanted to do was pack his things and get back to his real life. And the first item on his new agenda was to cut Dwayne and Darrell loose. It was time for those boys to sink or swim.

  Dwayne and Darrell had moved in with Jake and his mother in elementary school because their own mother was an on-again, off-again drug addict. She wasn’t capable of raising two rambunctious little kids so Jake’s mom had taken over the task, parenting the boys as though they were her own. Good old Darrell and Dwayne proved the adage that no good deed went unpunished.

  Jake was out of the truck almost before it came to a stop. Reaming out Rondelle and crew would be his last act at Camp Touchdown.

  “Get out. I have something to say.” He didn’t yell or curse or even act mad, but the teens got the message. All five boys jumped from the truck without a word. CiCi might be more inclined to hold hands and hum, but frankly he didn’t care what she’d learned in that fancy university. He was pissed off and tired of the whole mess.

  “I’m only going to say this once, so I hope you get it,” Jake said, pacing up and down in front of the kids. “The path you’re following is going to get you killed. If you’re lucky, you’ll just get thrown in jail.” He put his hands on his hips. “We’re not talking juvenile detention. We’re talkin’ hard time. You may think it’s cool to be a wise guy, but believe me, it isn’t.”

  Rondelle’s expression was stony. The other boys looked like they were about to hurl.

  “Ms. Hurst and her family have given you a golden opportunity with this camp and you—” he pointed at each of the boys “—have thrown it in her face. The fact is you’re too stupid to be here. It’s not my decision to make, but if it was, I’d send you home right now. That way, someone who deserves it could take your place. That’s all I have to say.”

  He turned to CiCi. “They’re all yours. I think I’ll call it a night. If they give you any trouble, just give me a yell. I wouldn’t mind having another little chat.” He shot the teens a fiendish smile. “Do you guys understand?”

  The band of scoundrels nodded in unison.

  “Good. I don’t appreciate anyone messin’ with a friend of mine. And I consider Ms. Hurst a friend. Got it?”

  They responded with another round of nods.

  Jake hadn’t even made it to his cabin before his cell chirped. When he checked the caller ID and saw that it was his agent, his stomach clenched. Larry Quinn wouldn’t be calling him this late unless something bad had happened.

  “What’s wrong?” Jake skipped the preambles.

  “You’re not going to like this.”

  “What I don’t like is when you start a conversation that way.” Jake rubbed the bridge of his nose. This day was giving him a major headache.

  “Dwayne couldn’t get you, so he called me.” Larry didn’t bother to disguise his exasperation.

  Jake’s first reaction was panic. Had something happened to his mom?

  “I have his number blocked. What’s the problem?”

  Larry paused. That was another bad omen. “Darrell’s in the Bexar County jail in San Antonio. It’s his third DUI.”

  “Crap!” Jake exclaimed. He’d bailed the idiot out twice in the past year.

  “Dwayne wants you to post a bond for him.”

  Jake thought for a moment. It was time that his cousin discovered that breaking the law had consequences. “Do me a favor?”

  “Name it and you’ve got it.”

  “Would you call a criminal defense attorney and make an appointment for me? In the morning will be fine. I think I’m going to let Darrell stew in jail for a while. It’ll do him good.”

  Larry chuckled. “I suspect you’re right. From what I hear, the county jail is a gnarly place.” His agent wasn’t fond of Jake’s ne’er-do-well relatives. He’d spent almost as much time getting them out of trouble as Jake had.

  “And would you make me a reservation at La Mansion? Make it for a couple of days.” The five-star hotel on the Riverwalk was awash in the ambiance of old San Antonio and would be just the escape Jake needed. “I’ll leave bright and early tomorrow. I can meet with the lawyer after nine.”

  “You got it. I’ll call you back with the time and place. Let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Right. Do you think a jury would convict me if I killed Darrell?”

  “Don’t do it. Your fifteen percent is one of the reasons I live so well.”

  “Screw you,” Jake replied, his standard response to his agent’s well-worn joke.

  There was one last item on his agenda. He had to tell CiCi he needed a couple of days off, but certainly not why. She’d al ready met Dwayne; she didn’t need to know about Darrell, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next morning Jake pulled into the lot of the Broadway Diner on San Antonio’s north side. He parked between a brand-new Mercedes and a beater pickup. With what lawyers charged per hour, the German number probably belonged to the cum laude Stanford graduate.

  The aroma of comfort food greeted Jake like an old friend. Just thinking a
bout breakfast made his stomach growl. Two customers were already seated at the old-fashioned counter—one in a suit, the other in a pair of faded jeans with a battered Stetson on the table. Not giving it a second thought, Jake headed toward the Marlboro man—this was Texas, after all.

  “You must be Cedric Thompson.” Jake hoped his intuition wasn’t on the fritz.

  “Nope, can’t say that I am.”

  “I’m your guy.” The man wearing the thousand-dollar suit and a gold Rolex stood and extended his hand. “Cedric Thompson, Esquire, at your service. Sit down and tell me what I can do for you.”

  “I’m sure Larry filled you in on the situation with my cousin.”

  “He certainly did, but I’d like to hear your thoughts,” Cedric said. “As I understand it, he’s in jail on his third DUI. Bad boy. Your agent said you don’t want to bail him out this time.”

  Before Jake could answer, the waitress appeared. He didn’t bother consulting the menu before ordering. “Coffee, scrambled eggs, crisp bacon and grits, and double it all.”

  “Is that it?” she asked, scribbling down his order.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She turned Jake’s cup over and poured him a generous serving. “Here’s your coffee. You order will be right up.”

  Jake waited until she moved on to the next customer before he continued. “It’s not about the money. I want him to learn a lesson. His last few encounters with the law obviously haven’t made an impression, and I’m afraid that’s partially my fault. I’ve enabled him,” Jake said with a sigh. “He’s never had to suffer the consequences, and that has to stop now. Next time he might kill someone.” He took a sip of coffee. “I can’t have that on my conscience.”

  Cedric stared at him for a few seconds. “Good for you. If more family members thought the same way, we might have fewer repeat offenders. Most people are willing to refinance the house to get their relatives out of the clink.”