by Cat Johnson
“Hey, Chase. Yeah, I’m heading home for the surgery.”
“Damn. Good luck with that.”
Mustang nodded. “Thanks.”
“So, last night with Marla…” Chase shook his head. “Wow. I mean that was amazing.”
Mustang couldn’t help but smile at the kid’s enthusiasm. “Yeah, I guess it was.”
Chase grinned like a little boy on Christmas morning. “I got her phone number.”
Only this kid would plan on calling a woman they’d picked up at a bar for a threesome, but that was what made Chase who he was. A corn-fed, God-fearing, well-mannered, Oklahoman cowboy right down to the bone.
“Good for you, kid.”
“I’m gonna wait ’til later today to call though. Don’t want to look too anxious. She’s probably sleeping late anyway after last night. Oh hey, are you gonna call her too? Because I mean, if you do that’s fine with me.”
“No, I’m good. Thanks.” Mustang laughed and then glanced at the clock in the dashboard. “Anyway, I better get on the road.”
“Yeah. We’re all gonna miss you around here.” Chase leaned in the window and hugged him. A quick, manly, one-armed hug, but more than Mustang wanted or expected from the kid. Especially after having been with him naked just hours before, even if there had been a woman in between them.
Uncomfortable with the show of affection, Mustang quickly came up with something to say. “I’ll be back in a few months. It’ll be like I was never gone.”
If only he believed that were true.
“Yeah. Maybe we can hang out again then. After you’re back.” Chase looked hopeful.
“Sure. We’ll see. Good luck in Baltimore.”
“Thanks.” Chase hopped down and, with one last wave, climbed back into his truck.
Reaching his right hand over to the left side of the steering column, Mustang flipped on his blinker. He threw the truck in drive and pulled away from the curb, but as he drove away Mustang didn’t see the road in front of him. Instead, he saw his future.
He didn’t like what he saw.
Slade and Jenna were already paired off and happier on their own than spending time with him. Sure, he could keep hanging out with the younger guys like Chase, until they all found themselves steady girlfriends or got married. Then what? Mustang would move on to hanging with the next set of single guys.
The older he became, the younger the new guys would get until one day he’d be a scarred, retired, former champion bull rider with a trophy case full of buckles and not much of anything else. Old. Alone. Lonely.
Suddenly being free and single and available to be with any woman he wanted on any given night wasn’t so attractive. He pictured Jenna as she tied the plastic bag around his neck so he could shower. Maybe having a woman mothering him and telling him what he could and couldn’t do wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Depressed now, he headed down the highway jealous of everyone in the world. Slade, who was probably on his way back to the hotel room to have sweaty sex with Jenna. Chase, for being so young and starry eyed he might actually make things work with their one-night stand, Marla. And every other bull rider on the circuit because they weren’t heading home to get a metal plate and screws put in their arm. Oh, no. They’d be riding in Baltimore next week while he was in hell, recovering from surgery at his parents’ house.
Life really wasn’t fair.
Over the next day the feeling of dread lodged in Mustang’s chest increased steadily the nearer he got to the place of his birth. It peaked as he saw the sign for Huntsville, Texas.
Speeding faster than was wise past the city, he became very much aware he was following the same route his grandfather had, and his father still took, to Huntsville Prison every working day of their adult lives. Just like Mustang had been supposed to if he had bowed to his father’s pressure years ago and followed in his footsteps.
Becoming a third-generation prison guard hadn’t exactly been Mustang’s lifelong ambition. Not that his father would ever understand Mustang’s willingness to give up what was in his eyes a good, steady job with benefits to instead take a chance on making a living riding bulls, of all things.
He sent thanks up to God that he’d gotten that job at the ranch and discovered he could sit a bull, even if his decision to ride pro hadn’t gone over real well at home. His father’s predictions then had been that Mustang would eventually come crawling home either broke or broken.
The trailer hit a bump in the road and he felt the twinge as it jarred his arm in the sling. That served as a very real reminder that he was indeed coming home a bit broken as well as a little broke at the moment.
Mustang felt the hard bulk of his Rookie-of-the-Year belt buckle beneath his broken arm. His father hadn’t been right. He had made something of himself and he had the proof right there, pressed against his gut where his self-doubt lived.
Bones healed and Mustang had no doubt that he’d be back on the circuit winning again in just a few months—if he survived living with his father that long. On that cheery thought, he pulled the trailer into the city limits of Magnolia and slowed to the local speed limit.
With the exception of the for-rent sign on what had been Hackett’s Hardware during his youth, Main Street looked pretty much the same as it had the last time he’d passed through for a quick, painful visit home.
As he wound his way out of the center of town and toward the country road that led to his parents’ house, Mustang saw other changes. A few large trees had fallen down. They’d uprooted actually. There’d been some nasty storms in Texas over the past year. High winds, tornados, flooding.
Stifling the guilt, he reminded himself he’d called home to check on his family after each and every bout of bad weather had passed through the area. What more could he do from the road when he had competitions nearly every week?
Occupied with justifying to himself that his long absences were unavoidable, not just his attempt to avoid his father, Mustang didn’t notice the strange car parked in front of the house. He didn’t see it until he’d pulled the trailer under the trees around the side and was headed on foot for the front door.
The unfamiliar white car was about the size of a toy. He couldn’t imagine either his six-foot-tall father or his generously proportioned mother picking it as their new vehicle. Mustang’s father, like his father before him, was a pickup-truck man and his mama was a four-door sedan with a trunk big enough to fit a body in kind of lady.
Still wondering about the car, Mustang raised his hand to open the front door while kicking the dust off his boots on the mat. He didn’t bother to knock. Doors in this house had never been locked and most likely never would be, even if they had known where the key was.
Mustang didn’t have a chance to turn the knob before it was yanked from his hand and the door flung open. He suddenly had an armful of his mother. She wrapped herself around his neck while kissing his face.
“Watch the arm, Ma.” He hadn’t taken a pain pill in awhile. Good thing Jenna wasn’t there. She’d be shoving one down his throat before he could stop her.
His mother stepped back, focusing on his sling. “Oh my God. Michael, I’m so sorry. Does it hurt?”
“Not too bad.” Except for when he’d fallen asleep after his and Chase’s fun with Marla without taking a pill first and had woken up in agony. He didn’t mention that and instead shrugged. “I’ll be fine. Good as new as soon as the doc operates.”
“At least it’s your left arm. Since you’re right-handed, if your right arm had been out of commission I probably would’ve never been able to convince them to hire you at work.”
At the sound of his father’s voice, Mustang swung his head to locate the man. He found him lurking in the shadows to the side of the door.
“What do you mean? You got me a job at the prison?”
Dear God, if he didn’t recover fully, if he couldn’t ride again, would he have to do the one thing he’d left this town to avoid? Would he be forced to follow h
is father and grandfather’s path whether he wanted to or not?
“As soon as your surgeon says you can work, you’ve got a position waitin’ on you at the prison. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy to get either, with your arm broken and all. I had to call in some favors.”
Great, so now he was expected to owe his father for getting him a job he didn’t want.
“It’s nothing in the high-security areas, mind you. It’s more like a glorified secretary, mostly watching monitors, filling out reports, but it’s a foot in the door. It’ll help when you finally come to your senses and decide it’s time to grow up and get a real job.”
And there it was, the expected verbal slam and it had been only—Mustang glanced at the watch on his right wrist—two minutes or so since he’d walked through the front door.
There were clearly two options here. He could tell his father to take his job offer and his attitude and shove it right up where the sun didn’t shine, after which he would have to get back in the trailer. He supposed he could recuperate while parked in the lot behind the hospital. Or he could do what he always did. Keep his mouth shut and go out later. He’d find a bar and a woman, get drunk and get laid and take his mind off it all.
Mustang set his jaw. There was no way he could endure four months of this. Not even with all the booze and women in the world to help him. “I’ll have to see what my plans are. I was hoping to take off as soon as the doc said it was okay for me to travel. You know, get back on the road. Join the guys on tour again.”
He’d have to take Slade up on his offer of money, but it would be worth it. Swallowing his pride would be a lot easier than biting his tongue around his father for all that time. He’d likely bite his tongue damn near off by the time his bone healed.
His mother’s hand touched his right arm gently. “Oh, no, Michael. I was hoping to have you around for a while this time. I miss you.”
As his father turned and walked out of the room, Mustang heard, “As if he cares about anyone but himself.”
Mustang tore his gaze from his father’s stiff back. Leaving his mother would be his only regret when he pulled out of this damn town. “Don’t worry, Ma. You’ll have me around long enough to get sick of me.”
His father apparently already was. He drew in a deep sigh and decided to change the subject.
“What’s for dinner? I’m so hungry my stomach’s eating my backbone.” Mustang turned toward the kitchen and stopped dead at the sight that greeted him.
Her glossy dark brown hair hung to her shoulders and just begged for a man to tangle his hands in it. But what really caught his attention was the afternoon sun slanting through the window behind her. It outlined her long, lean, hotter-than-hell, girl-next-door body through the thin cotton of her dress.
His gaze traveled back up to her face and Mustang realized this was the girl next door. Or at least the girl that lived on the next street in a house where he’d spent a considerable amount of his youth, and man oh man had she grown up.
He frowned, shocked. “Little Bit?”
A shy, innocent smile lit her fresh, sweet face. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that. Welcome home, Mustang.”
It sure as hell had been a long time. Long enough for Rosemary’s younger sister to be not so little anymore.
“Thanks. It’s good to be home.”
Good to be home? Had he actually just said that? Damn, he was having trouble thinking with the grownup version of Sage in the room.
“To answer your question about dinner, Sage just came to drop off Maria’s empanadas especially for you.” His mother’s answer to his previous and long-forgotten question caught his attention.
The fact that Sage’s grandmother had cooked just for him warmed his heart when he needed it most. News of her homemade empanadas would have had him jumping for joy any day. Add to that the fact Sage had come to greet him the moment he’d gotten home and he was excited in a whole other way.
The sweet, younger Beckett girl had always shown him kindness, even in the old days when she was just a kid. Then again, she’d seemed more mature mentally and emotionally than her girlish exterior indicated. She’d listen to him complain about his parents with the patience of someone much older. Far more patience than Rosemary ever displayed for anything.
He let his gaze roam over her again. Rosemary may have been the belle of Magnolia back in high school, but Sage, the quiet, nerdy late-bloomer, had far surpassed her sister. Who the hell could have guessed that the knobby-kneed, eyeglass-wearing, quiet sister would end up becoming the natural beauty in the family?
Then it hit him like a brick to the head. He couldn’t think about Sage like a woman. He sure as hell couldn’t treat her the way he usually treated women. Grams going to all the trouble to make him his favorite dinner only served to remind him that the youngest granddaughter of the woman who’d been like a second mother to him was off-limits, especially since he had no plans to stick around here any longer than he had to.
Mustang let out a long, deep breath to steady himself. Too often he did his thinking with his dick. This was one girl he couldn’t do that with. “How is your grandmother, Sage?”
She laughed, making her look even younger than she had before, but that didn’t stop the warmth that spread through him at the sound.
“Grams is the same as always.” Her cheeks dimpled as she smiled.
How old would she be now? He quickly did the math, trying to remember how old she’d been when he left town those many years ago. She had to be twenty, give or take a year. Old enough, which made her far too tempting.
Yup. He needed to keep his hormones in check, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t catch up with an old friend. She’d always been a good listener and just as good about keeping quiet and sitting with him in silence when he hadn’t been in the mood to talk.
That would be nice, having a female friend whom he’d never had sex with. It sure as hell would be new.
“You be sure to tell her how much I appreciate the food. It’s been too long since I’ve had home cooking.”
Home cooking usually required a home, which meant coming home to the hell that was his father. Until now that had been less than enticing. Taking another look at Sage, all grown up and looking fine, and imagining how good those empanadas were going to taste, Mustang was rethinking his former opinion. Maybe Magnolia did offer a few enticements after all. But shit, only one of those two things was a guilt-free pleasure he’d be able to allow himself.
His mother ran her hand up and down his good arm, yanking his attention away from the only thing he’d been able to focus on since she’d walked out of the kitchen.
“Well, you’re going to get home cooking for as long as you’re here.”
“Thanks, Ma. That’ll be nice.”
“Come on. Let’s sit and eat. Sage was kind enough to bring the food over still hot so it’s all ready to eat. It sounds like your father is already poking around in it.”
“Um, I’m gonna head home now. Good seeing you again.” Sage sidled toward the door, putting her closer to Mustang.
He breathed in deeply and caught a whiff of whatever fresh, floral scent she wore. It mingled with the smell of Grams’ empanadas and he couldn’t resist. He wanted to keep her around for a little longer. “Why don’t you stay and eat with us?”
“I couldn’t impose on ya’ll like that.”
His mother shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Maria sent enough food for half the town. We’d love for you to stay. You can catch Michael up on all the goings on with the young people in town.”
“Yeah, Little Bit. Stay. Tell me everything I’ve missed.” He definitely didn’t want her to go yet and it had nothing to do with his wanting to hear what was happening in town either. The only person he wanted to hear about was Sage.
She hesitated. “Okay. I’ll stay. Thanks, Mrs. Jackson.”
“My pleasure, darlin’.” His mother bustled off into the kitchen, but Mustang held back.
Sage cocked one dark brow.
“I’m glad you noticed.” The low, sultry tone of her voice cut straight through him.
She spun and followed his mother into the kitchen. He watched her hips sway and let out a long, slow breath. Gone without a trace was any resemblance to the little girl he used to know. How the hell was he going to keep his hands off her? It damn sure wasn’t going to be easy.
Chapter Five
“You really don’t have to come to the hospital.”
As Mustang sat and tried not to drool over the remains of breakfast left on his parents’ plates, his stomach protested being empty with a big rumble. The aroma of freshly cooked bacon still hung in the air, but grumbling belly or not, there’d be no food or even water for him until after the surgery.
His mother put down her coffee mug and frowned. “Of course I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re my baby and you’re having an operation.”
“Ma. I just turned twenty-six.” He couldn’t help but smile.
“I don’t care how old you are. You’ll always be my baby.”
“Damned inconvenient to schedule surgery in the middle of the week so your mother has to take off work,” his father mumbled from behind the morning paper.
Mustang drew in a deep breath to calm himself before he was tempted to use his one good arm in a way no son should think of using it against his father.
“It was the only day the surgeon could do it. Don’t take off work, Ma. I’m serious. You don’t need to come with me. I’ll drive myself to the hospital.”
“Don’t be silly. It’s fine. I’ve already called my boss and explained. They can do without me for one day. Besides, you can’t drive yourself home after surgery.”
An annoyed snort came from behind the paper and as stupid an idea as it was, Mustang was still tempted to drive himself. He didn’t care if he had to sleep in the hospital parking lot until he was up to the trip home. His mind reeled. Maybe he could say he’d already asked a friend to drive him to the hospital. Not that he had any close friends left in Magnolia, unless he counted Sage.