Bringing Home the Bachelor

by Sarah M. Anderson

Billy turned his head so that he could see her out of the corner of his eye. “It’s my life. There was a time when I was only this massive tornado of darkness and destruction—I hurt myself, hurt people who cared about me.”

  “Then you saw the light?” Her weight shifted and he felt her warm breath on his back.

  “More like I broke free. Grew up, got smarter, got over it.”

  Well, gotten more over it. He didn’t know if he’d ever be all the way over it.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  And the funny thing was, she didn’t sound like she was jerking his chain. She leaned down far enough that he could feel the weight of those amazing breasts on his back. She kissed one of the birds.

  In that moment, Billy not only saw but felt the difference between being horny and being something else, something he didn’t quite have a name for. Did he want to sink himself into Jenny’s sweet body again? Hell, yes. But it wasn’t just getting off that pushed him. It was something more—being with Jenny.

  It was amazing how much a difference that made.

  She slid off of him, which left him colder than he wanted to admit. But she rolled him onto his back—and straddled him again. He couldn’t help himself—his hands found her hips and he began to rock back and forth under her—not enough to qualify as sex, but more than enough that she got the message.

  She gasped, her eyes widening with what he hoped was pleasure. The feeling of skin on skin—his skin on her skin—was enough to drive all rational thought from his mind. He pulled her down harder, feeling her wetness coat him.

  She bit her lip, which probably was a gesture of indecision but happened to look damn sexy. Had it been twenty minutes? Could he get a condom?

  “Not yet.” She got the words out through gritted teeth as she peeled his hands from her hips.

  He had to admire her control, damn it all.

  But she didn’t scoot off of his erection. She sat there in that narrow space between intimate and not, her chest heaving. Finally, she turned her attention back to his tats. The main one on his chest was a huge skull with black flames on top and a rattlesnake coming out of one eye. The snake went up and over his shoulder.

  But next to it was the rose wrapped in thorns. It was the only tattoo he had that was in color. The red was on the edges of the petals, like a tea rose, his mom’s favorite flower. It had been the only tattoo of his that she’d ever thought was pretty, even if it was wrapped in thorns.

  Billy could see Jenny looking from the big, scary tat to the small, pretty one and he knew that she was smart enough to make more than a few connections.

  “So,” she began, covering his rose with her palm, “you have a, um, graphic tattoo to distract from this one?”

  “Yeah.” He wanted to cut her off, distract both of them by sliding into her welcoming body—but he couldn’t. He had to be honest with her. With himself.

  But he couldn’t do it with her naked body on top of his. Not when he could look into her eyes. So he squeezed his shut, focusing on the warmth of her hand over his heart.

  To his surprise, she slid forward, wrapping her arms around his chest—full-body contact. Yeah, he thought, folding her into his arms, that’s better.

  “When I was seventeen, I was dating this girl,” he began, not knowing a better place to start. “She was everything I wasn’t—smart and pretty with rich parents. I think I was her wild streak—her family hated me. Hated me. But she’d sneak out at night.”

  He felt her head nod against his chest. No doubt, she’d done some of that sneaking out, too. “So what happened?”

  “I got her pregnant.” Jenny stilled—he didn’t think she was even breathing—so he kept going. Stopping and thinking about it sucked more than getting it over with. “And I freaked out. I broke my hand punching a wall, threw a fit—I even broke my bike. Kicked it over. I’d gotten drunk before then, but I went out and got ripping drunk. I…” God, he was so ashamed of what a jerk he’d been. “I couldn’t deal with it. Tried to start a fight at this bar I shouldn’t have been in, almost got myself killed.”

  “Is that when you got arrested?”

  “Actually, the bartender knew my dad. Called him up. He came and got me, dragged me home and tore me a new one.” This part—the part that wasn’t his fault—was easier to think of. “He’d gotten my mom pregnant—with me—when they were both eighteen. When I told him what I’d done, he slapped me and told me to get myself together. Told me I had to marry her—that’s what he’d done. Told me that any Bolton baby had to stay a Bolton.”

  “Did you?”

  Billy realized he was stroking her hair. And that she was still here—hadn’t bolted because he’d been a huge jerk. Not yet, anyway.

  “I slept on it for a few days. Then bought a cheap ring and went to her house to propose.”

  God, this was hard. He’d only said these things out loud one other time. Not even his brothers knew this. As much of a loudmouth as his father was about some things, Bruce Bolton had kept his mouth shut about this. Billy wasn’t even sure if Dad had told Mom before she died. He hoped not, anyway. He wouldn’t have wanted her to be so disappointed in him.

  He didn’t want to disappoint Jenny, either.

  “What happened?” Her voice was small—but not scared, not judgmental. She’d been on the other side after all. Maybe she understood being freaked out better than most.

  “She said…” His voice caught, and suddenly talking was almost impossible.

  Jenny leaned up and kissed him on the cheek before she returned back to her chest-to-chest hug. Then she waited.

  “She’d had an abortion. Said she didn’t want it because she didn’t want me—she’d never wanted me. Then she slammed the door in my face.”

  Jenny gasped in surprise. “She did what?”

  “Yeah.”

  They lay there for a few moments. Billy was keenly aware of Jenny—not so much in the sexual sense, but that she was still here in this bed with him, still wrapped up in his arms. That she hadn’t called him a filthy, no-good dirtbag who was too stupid to know when he wasn’t wanted. All those things that Ashley had said to him.

  “I almost got an abortion,” Jenny said in her super-quiet voice. “After Ricky left, I wanted it to be over. But my mom wouldn’t let me. She said I had to live with what I’d done, and one day I’d thank her for it.”

  “Did you?”

  “Eventually. Like you said, I grew up, got smart and got over it.” She traced her fingers over the rose petals. “So, this isn’t for the girl.”

  “No. It’s for the baby.”

  She slid a hand behind his back and caressed the inches of inky blackness that had once been his life. “Then you were lost.”

  “Yeah.” Funny, he didn’t feel lost at all right now. More than anything, he felt right—more right than he’d felt in a long time.

  “So, what happened?”

  He smiled in spite of feeling a little raw. After all that, she was still here, holding him. “I got more and more gone. Spent half my days drunk, the other half hungover. Picked fights—earned my nickname, Wild Bill, the hard way. Got arrested a bunch. Then my dad stopped bailing me out. Told me I could rot in jail until I got my head screwed back on. Told me I was killing my mom, the way I was.”

  He swallowed again. His mom had been so worried about him for so long, no wonder his dad had been furious with him. Mom and Dad might have had to get married, but they’d stuck by each other, through good and bad, until the day the cancer took Mom. After that, Billy hadn’t been the only one who was a little lost.

  “He left you there?”

  “Yup.”

  “Wow…my mom just made me have a baby.”

  “I wasn’t there for years or anything. A couple of months. Then, when my case came up, I had a plea deal. Community service.” This was the only part of the story he liked to think about. Coming into the light. “My old shop teacher spoke on my behalf, said he had a plan for how I could talk to the kids in school, k
ids like me who were lost. He’d make me work it off.”

  “Your shop teacher stood up for you?”

  “Cal Horton. He’s the only other person, besides Dad, who knows about this. And you,” he added quickly. “So I did work it off. I was twenty-four. I’d lost seven years of my life to drinking and fighting. Cal is pretty much the anti-Dad—wiry little guy, soft-spoken. He’d been the only teacher who didn’t write me off in school. The only person who never wrote me off. So he dragged me back to school, made me talk to the kids, made me lead them in picking up an adopted stretch of the highway—and put tools back in my hand. Gave me something to do with my life. After I’d finished with the community service, I went to work for my dad and started building bikes.”

  Her hand slid up his back, finding the birds again. “Free.”

  He held her tighter than before. “Free,” he agreed.

  But lonely. He’d built a hell of a business with his brothers. For ten years, his life had been work. He’d worked on bikes twelve, fourteen hours a day. He’d made a boatload of money, but he hadn’t stopped long enough to enjoy it—like enjoying his money took something away from the reason why he did the work. It kept him busy and out of trouble, but hadn’t left time for anything else.

  Until now. Any other Saturday night, he might be working on his drawings or testing out a new angle for the handlebars—thinking about a bike. Tonight? Tonight he was in bed with a sweet, beautiful woman. And that’s damn well where he was going to stay for as long as he could.

  “You didn’t take the easy way out. You did the right thing, even though it was hard. I want to be good enough for you, Jenny. Because you’re so much better than I am.”

  Her head shot up, nearly clipping him in the chin. She stared at him, her mouth open. He smoothed her hair back from her face before he closed her mouth for her with a kiss. It was true—all of it.

  She kissed him back without hesitation, their tongues tangling along with their limbs. This was freedom—here, in her arms, being loved by a good woman.

  Then she tried to roll him on top of her, but he pulled away. “I like you on top,” he said, and put her there.

  She frowned at him, even as her hips worked small circles on his aching erection. “Why?”

  “Better this way,” he got out through gritted teeth. Man, the way she was grinding against him—he leaned over and snagged a condom.

  She wasn’t having any of that, though. She grabbed the hand holding the condom and pinned it against the bed. “Maybe I want you on top.”

  “No, you don’t.” He flexed, knowing good and well that he could break her hold on his hand. But he didn’t want to.

  Her eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”

  “Better view.”

  “Baloney.”

  Right now—except for the fact that she was naked—she looked exactly like the kind of woman who would threaten to feed him to the coyotes.

  “A lot—” No, that wasn’t right. He started again. “Other women have complained that I’m too heavy.”

  The look on her face said, “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “I’m not afraid of you or your massive, gorgeous chest, Billy.” As if to emphasize her point, she rolled off—and pulled him with her.

  This wasn’t a good idea, but it was clear that she had a point to prove and he wasn’t going to get lucky again if he didn’t let her prove it. So he rolled into her, pausing only long enough to sit back on his heels and put the condom on. “You tell me if it doesn’t work?”

  “Absolutely.” She reached out and stroked his length, and suddenly, he was ready to go again. “And I’ll tell you if it does. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Then her legs were around his waist, pulling him forward until he hit her wet center.

  Billy surrendered himself to the sensations of her body—the way she took him in, the way she surrounded him with her warmth, the way her arms clung to his neck, holding him tight. He stroked into her. It had been so long since he’d been on top that it was like having sex for the first time all over again. Everything about Jenny felt new and different. Any worries he had were blown away with the breathy whispers of how much she liked being with him. Soon, she couldn’t even whisper—all she could do was moan his name.

  Soon, he couldn’t hold anything back. And when her body tightened on his with the force of her orgasm, he lost it all. The release was so intense that, for a moment, everything got a little hazy at the edges. All he could think was of birds flying into the sky, free. That’s how he felt with her. Free as a bird.

  He pulled away, but he didn’t get far. He lay on his side and wrapped his arms around her. Suddenly, he was tired—not the usual stayed-up-all-night-working tired, but something that was infinitely more satisfying.

  “Was that okay?” He hoped so, because that was the kind of sex a man could get used to having more of. A lot more of.

  Jenny surprised him by giggling. “No.” He froze, but she added, “It was wonderful.”

  He exhaled in relief, which became a yawn. “Good.”

  “Maybe in the morning, we can try a different position.”

  That was enough to get his eyes open again. “Yeah?”

  She kissed him. “Yeah.”

  Hot damn.

  Billy had finally gotten lucky.

  Sixteen

  Billy hadn’t had a lot of spooning sex. But waking up with Jenny in his arms? Yeah, that was the kind of intimate he wanted, with the woman he wanted.

  He explored her breasts, her nipples, the space between her legs. And he loved hearing her telling him exactly how good he made her feel, to hear her cry out in pleasure.

  But soon enough, they were lying spent and panting, and the morning sun shone bright through the windows. All she had to wear was the crumpled gown, which looked even worse in the light of day. So Jenny walked around in one of his T-shirts while he showed her his place.

  “And this is the kitchen, which goes out to the garage.” He hoped she liked it—hoped she might want to spend a little more time here with him, but he couldn’t tell by the look on her face.

  Jenny did a slow circle. “It is always this…empty?”

  Billy glanced around, trying to see his house as she did. Everything was in its place—he kept his house like he kept his shop. But he could see her point. He had five bedrooms—and only one bed. His. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “About six years. It’s far enough away from the neighbors that they don’t complain about engine noise.” He got out the eggs and bacon and put the kettle on. Then he set out the four boxes of tea he’d bought for her. “Pick one.”

  Jenny chose the English breakfast and slid onto the chrome-and-black-leather stool he had at the island counter. “It’s a big place.”

  “You like it? You can come back whenever you want. Seth, too.” A strange look crossed her face and she dropped her gaze to the packet of tea in her hands. Maybe she didn’t like his big, empty house? “I can get a bed for Seth. He can pick out whatever he’d like.”

  “I…”

  Billy couldn’t tell what was worse—the way she wasn’t meeting his gaze, or the way her words trailed off. Suddenly, he was on edge.

  Last night—this morning—had been amazing for both of them. He’d thought. Had he gotten a woman wrong again—she’d had her one night and that was that? “What?”

  “It’s just— I don’t know— See, I haven’t done this for a long time. Eleven years.” Her words spilled out of her in a guilty rush. “The last guy I tried to date bailed when Seth started calling him Daddy, and Seth was crushed. So I stopped dating. He doesn’t remember it, thank goodness. He was only three. But…” As fast as she’d started, she stopped.

  Man, eleven years? And his almost-three years had felt like a long time. Then it hit him like a load of bricks. This was like when they’d woken up on Ben’s couch last week—practically the first thing out of her mouth was asking Seth what he wan
ted for breakfast. She was putting herself last, again.

  Jenny, the woman, needed some mind-blowing sex and probably had for a long time. But Jenny, the mom, had buried those needs and wants down deep. No wonder she’d had so much energy to unleash on him last night. Eleven years was a hell of a backlog to work through.

  She looked up at him, and he was surprised to see tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t know if we should do that. This. I have to put his interests first. I mean, you’ve been wonderful with him, but I don’t expect you to suddenly be a father figure to him. And we’re so different. I don’t have anything and you—you can have everything you want.”

  “I want you.”

  She shook her head. “My life is on the rez and your life is in the shop, and I…I don’t know how this would work.”

  He gaped at her for a second, his mind spinning furiously as it tried to come up with the right response. If he were his brother Ben, he’d probably have some logical plan of how, exactly, this would work. If he were Bobby, he’d have the right words to calm her down.

  But he wasn’t his brothers and never would be. So he did the only thing he could. He walked around the island, took her tear-stained cheeks in his hands, and kissed her. After a few moments, her arms went back around his neck and she held on to him as if she were afraid she might never get the chance to do so again.

  “This isn’t about the boy, Jenny. He’ll be fine. This is about you and me,” he told her as he hugged her to his chest.

  He felt like a jerk for saying it—for telling her that her own son wasn’t important. But he didn’t care. He didn’t want her sense of duty to pull her away from him.

  “I’ve never known another woman like you—you push me, challenge me—you aren’t afraid of me. You make me want to be better. I’m not going to let this go without a fight because you think your boy might not like it or you think I’m too rich for a woman like you. None of that matters a damn bit to me. I want to be with you, even if it isn’t easy.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes rimmed with red. It hurt him to see her upset like this, to know he was the reason why. “I have to put my son first.”