Tougher in Texas

by Kari Lynn Dell

  “Which is?” he asked warily, wondering what she’d dreamed up to torture him with now.

  “I’m craving pizza. You show up at my door packin’ a large artichoke and sun-dried tomato with extra cheese and a six-pack of Shiner, I’ll let you in no matter what time it is. I’ll even throw in a movie. It can be like date night.”

  “A pizza.” He took a deep breath, identifying the distinct aromas of hamburgers, barbecue, tacos, and popcorn, overlaid with the scent of hot grease. The concession stands were dishing up every other kind of fast food ever invented—and some that never should’ve been—but she wanted weird-ass pizza. And beer.

  But she could’ve insisted on dragging him to the after-party instead, where one of the best indie bands in Texas was playing.

  “I can do that,” he said.

  “Excellent.” She ducked under Salty’s neck and shouldered Cole out of the way, tugging the latigo from his hand. “And I can do this, unless it’s an insult to your manly pride.”

  He braced one hand on the cantle of the saddle and the other on the side of the trailer, boxing her in against Salty, and leaned down so his breath ruffled the renegade curls escaping her barrette. “I think it’s safe to say my pride is big enough to handle it.”

  Her breath hitched and he caught her slight quiver when he nipped the top of her ear.

  As he sauntered back to get his own saddle, she called after him. “Hey, Cole? Exactly how long is that list of yours?”

  At the rate he was finding new things to add? He smiled. “If I were you, I wouldn’t make any other plans for the rest of the rodeo season.”

  * * *

  After the rodeo that night, the crew set a land speed record for finishing up the chores, anxious to get to the concert. Or in Shawnee’s case, to have time to dive through the shower before Cole showed up on her doorstep. The first crashing notes of the opening act rang out across the rodeo grounds as she chained the gate on Roy’s pen and started for her trailer. She passed near the announcer’s stand in time to see Mariah throw her arms around her father’s neck.

  “You are the best daddy in the whole world!”

  Tyrell hugged her back, but his expression was pained. “Keep your cell phone turned on, don’t take candy from strangers, and meet me at Cole’s pickup no more than ten minutes after the last song ends.”

  “Ugh!” Mariah injected a gallon of exasperation into the sound, and topped it off with a spectacular eye roll. “I’m not a child. I’ve been to concerts before.”

  “Not with girls I don’t know.”

  “You know their parents.”

  “I’ve seen them in the arena. That’s not the same as actually knowing them.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She rose up on tiptoe to give him a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I’m spending time with kids my own age, just like you’re always nagging me to do. Go have a nice, quiet dinner with your grown-up friends. I’ll see you later.”

  And she was off, achingly fresh and beautiful as she all but skipped over to join the three girls who waited a safe distance away. Moments like this made Shawnee glad she’d never have to watch her own kids grow up.

  She forced down the lump in her throat. Nostalgia, that’s all. Remembering what it was like to be a teenager going unchaperoned to a concert. The definition of cool.

  Tyrell sighed. “A year from now she’ll be waltzing off to college. It scares the hell out of me.”

  “And rightly so.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Everyone else tells me how mature and driven she is, and I shouldn’t worry so much.”

  “They have apparently forgotten their first year of college,” Shawnee said dryly. “And I didn’t look like that.”

  Tyrell grunted a laugh. “Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel better.”

  “Just keepin’ it real.” She cocked her head toward the noise and lights. “You could spy on her.”

  “Right. A tall black man wouldn’t stand out in that crowd at all. Besides…” He smiled, his dimples winking sheepishly. “I don’t like going out without my wife. It’s hard enough, being apart this long. She doesn’t need to hear I’ve been drinking or dancing or whatever the gossips will manufacture if I give them a chance.”

  Shawnee slugged him in the arm. “You are a good man, Tyrell Swift. And you’ve raised a good kid. She’ll be okay.”

  “That makes one of us.” He rubbed a hand over his heart, then shot her a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose, if you’re going, you’d keep an eye—”

  “Sorry. I have other plans.”

  Big ones. About six and half feet worth, in fact. She grinned at her own wit as she waved good night and made a dash for her trailer before anyone else could sidetrack her.

  She was just stepping out of the shower when the knock came at her door. After a two-second debate, she wrapped a bath sheet around her and went to let Cole in.

  He didn’t even blink. Just stared intently at where the towel was tucked between her breasts, then said, “Let me find a place to set this stuff down.”

  “You can do that while I put some clothes on.”

  His gaze finally made it up to her face. “Don’t bother on my account.”

  “I’m not. Unlike the pizza, the sex will get hotter if we set it aside for a bit.”

  Cole grinned, and her heart did a crazy boom-chicka-boom. His hair was damp and he’d opted for another of those soft, clingy T-shirts that made her want to rub her face against him like a cat. Heavenly aromas of garlic, tomato, and yeasty crust wafted from the two boxes he balanced on one hand. A six-pack of Shiner longnecks dangled from two fingers of the other.

  A great big hunk of man on her doorstep, bearing pizza and beer. Welcome to her wildest dreams. Shawnee inhaled so deeply she had to clutch at the towel to keep it from falling. “Give me two minutes.”

  She locked herself in the bathroom before she could change her mind about the order of events. Still, there was no sense putting on a whole lot of clothes, so she pulled on a black racer-back tank with a built-in bra, bikini underwear to match, and a pair of cuffed denim shorts. She took the time to smooth lotion on every inch of exposed skin, run a wide-toothed comb through her hair, and curse the fact that men looked sexier straight out of the shower, while she just looked pasty. Oh well. He wasn’t here to admire her eyeliner.

  Cole was kicked back on the couch with a beer in his hand. She snagged a Shiner from the fridge, twisted off the top, and made herself comfortable. Cole retrieved a stack of napkins and the pizzas from the table and sat down right beside her, hip to hip.

  “If I can’t have you in a towel, I’ll settle for this.” Balancing the pizzas on his lap, he reached up to trace the curving edge of the tank top across her upper back, trailing sparks. Then he pushed aside her hair to press a warm, lingering kiss at the base of her neck, putting a little tongue into it. “You have really great shoulders,” he breathed against her skin.

  She gasped out a laugh. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

  He drew back, some of the heat leaching out of his eyes as a crease formed between his brows. “I’m sorry. I guess that’s one of those things women don’t like to hear.”

  “No! I mean…maybe some women would take it wrong, but I…” Cannot speak in full sentences because I’m on the verge of spontaneous combustion. But her lust was muted by how, in a blink, his pleasure had dissolved into uncertainty. What idiotic bitch—or series of them—had done this to a man who could convince a woman that she had the world’s sexiest kneecaps? She let loose an aggravated breath. “Do you hear me complaining?”

  “You’re just being polite.”

  “Hah!” She practically spit beer. “I realize the sex was mind-blowing last night, but have you forgotten who you’re talking to?”

  He blinked, stared at her for a beat, and then gave his head a shake. “Yeah. I guess
I did.” Then his grin crept back. “Mind-blowing, huh?”

  “Begging for compliments?” She poked him in the arm. “That is lame. Now tell me why we have two pizzas.”

  “You didn’t expect me to eat pickled vegetables and shriveled up red leather?”

  “Have you ever even tasted them?”

  “Why would I do that, when there’s so much perfectly good pepperoni in the world?” He passed her the top box, then flipped his open and pulled out the first slice.

  Shawnee did the same, and waved hers under his nose. “Are you sure you don’t want to try a bite?”

  He squashed back into the couch and screwed up his face like a first grader threatened with a brussels sprout. “Yuck. I don’t know if I can even kiss you after seeing that stuff.”

  She stuck out her tongue, then took a huge bite.

  Cole gave her a sidelong look that strolled from her bare toes to the top of her head. Then he flicked her a smug grin. “Still leaves me plenty of room to work.”

  All the available territory was hit by an instant heat wave at the thought of being invaded by Cole’s hands, and Cole’s mouth, and…

  She took another swig of her beer, but it didn’t do a thing to bring her internal temperature down, especially when he slung his arm around her and started sketching circles on her upper arm. He had her tucked up against him, knee to hip to shoulder, as close as they could get without sharing molecules.

  She frowned. “I thought autistic people didn’t like to be touched.”

  He shrugged, unoffended. “We’re all different. And it seems to matter where you are on the spectrum. I was a real cuddler when I was kid. I wanted someone to hold my hand everywhere we walked and I used to beg my mom or dad to come and lay with me at night, when I went to bed, just for five minutes so we could whisper secrets about any silly thing. Which Ninja Turtle I wanted to be, or whether there was a Disneyland in heaven.” His hand went still, as if he’d been struck by the thought that they might be able to answer now. Then he shook his head. “And touching a girl you’re dating is different. Like, I can’t handle it with Violet or Lily. I never know where to put my hands so I don’t grab the wrong thing. But I figure you and I are to the point where you might not knee me in the nuts for an accidental butt squeeze.”

  Shawnee had to swallow hard, tangled up in visions of Cole as a…well, smaller boy. She couldn’t imagine him ever being little. “So that’s why that miserable mutt is so spoiled. Nothing like a dog when you need a cuddle.”

  “Or a baby.” His expression went soft. “There’s nothing like cuddling a baby.”

  Shawnee dropped her pizza slice, then tried to pretend she’d tossed it down on purpose by grabbing for a napkin.

  “The way they curl up on your shoulder…” He sighed wistfully. “I used to offer to watch Beni just so I could hold him, but he outgrew that a long time ago. It’s too bad Lily and her husband haven’t been able to have kids. But pretty soon we’ll have the new baby.”

  Geezus. He really did need to find a wife who wanted to pop out half a dozen rug rats. Shawnee closed the lid on her pizza, her appetite destroyed. She should tell him. Right now. Just spit it out.

  Sorry, darlin’, but this ol’ mare’s been spayed.

  And ruin not only this night, but all of the others they might have. He’d start looking at her that way. The way people always looked at her when they found out. Oh, you poor thing. Bless your heart.

  Worse, if they realized she’d had a choice.

  Cole’s hand tightened on her shoulder as she moved to rise. “That’s all you’re eating?”

  “I’ll save it to gross you out later.” She pushed to her feet and made a show of batting her eyes at him. “I just love pizza in bed after a good workout.”

  He made another brussels sprout face. “Food in bed is just wrong.”

  “Well, damn. Guess I bought that whipped cream for nothing.”

  His eyes lit up. “Could we make strawberry waffles instead?”

  Shawnee burst out laughing. Honest to Pete, he was such a goofball. She could see why Violet didn’t like turning him loose. She tossed the box on the counter, then went looking for the television remote.

  “We have five movie channels, or…” She angled him a hopeful look. “NCIS marathon?”

  “NCIS. Gibbs is my hero.”

  “Somehow not surprising.” She flicked to the right channel and fetched another beer for each of them. The first scene that came on was in the lab, with the goth forensics chick, which reminded Shawnee. “I asked Analise if she was going to the concert tonight, but she made a face like you did at my pizza and said she had plans that didn’t include country music.”

  Cole polished off his fourth slice and washed it down with the last of his beer. “Hank said he wasn’t going, either.”

  “Really?” Shawnee drew out the word as her mind put two and two together…or should that be one and one? “They were dancing when I left the beer garden last weekend. I wonder…”

  Cole’s eyebrows rose. “Might explain why Hank’s friends are bitching that he’s been making himself scarce. She wouldn’t be impressed by that bunch of yahoos.”

  “And wouldn’t be afraid to tell them so.” It was one of the things Shawnee loved about the girl.

  She settled in beside Cole again. He immediately wrapped his arm around her. She made a token effort to concentrate on the television while Cole plowed through the rest of his pizza, then tossed the empty box on the table without getting up. Her blood hummed, but for now it was only pleasant background noise, like the music echoing across the rodeo grounds from the concert. It must be like this for Violet and Joe or Tori and Delon at the end of a long rodeo day. Relaxed, comfortable, but with the ever-present potential for fireworks if either of them decided to strike a match. The reason people got married, she supposed.

  And had babies.

  “What?” Cole asked, when she stiffened.

  “Nothing. I just…I had an itch.”

  “Where?” He gave her a leering grin. “I’d be glad to scratch all of your itches.”

  She forced an answering, suggestive smile. “How ’bout you try to guess, and I’ll let you know if you’re getting warmer or colder?”

  “It may take me a while,” he warned, plucking the bottle out of her hand and then pressing her back on the couch. “I’ve always been a little slow when it comes to games.”

  His mouth found the most tender spot on the underside of her jaw, and her blood went from humming to singing through her veins. She let her hands rove over his broad back, his arms, his shoulders, learning the contours she’d missed in their previous explosive encounter. Meanwhile, he continued his search, his mouth and fingers making her breath come in hitches and gasps as he worked his way south, and she kept mumbling, “Warmer. Warmer. Oh yeah, definitely warmer…”

  He had just crossed the equator when they heard the first scream.

  Chapter 30

  Shawnee sat up and jerked her top down so fast she nearly brained Cole with her elbow. He rolled off her and landed with a thud on the floor. She scrambled over him, buttoning her shorts and shoving her feet into flip-flops while Cole gathered himself up and staggered after her. His head spun as another scream rang out and he tried to shift gears from mindless desire to possible danger. Shawnee grabbed a frying pan off the stove as she passed and was out the door.

  Damn crazy woman. She didn’t have any idea what she was jumping into.

  He bailed out into the darkness and slammed into her where she’d paused near the front of her pickup, frying pan cocked as she peered into the shadows, toward the sound of raised voices. Cole recognized one of them immediately. He stepped in front of Shawnee and held out an arm to hold her back while he tried to make sense of what he saw and heard.

  “Tyrell?” he called.

  The man ignored him, bel
lowing in rage as Mariah clung to one arm, shrieking at him in what seemed to be a combination of fear and fury. Cruz had both hands planted on Tyrell’s chest, trying to hold him back. Above them, the door to the truck cab hung open, the dome light dimly illuminating the chaos. Three steps closer and Cole could see someone splayed out on the ground, with Analise crouched over him. Two more strides and Cole saw it was Hank.

  In the second it took for the pieces to click into place, a pair of uniformed county deputies came jogging down the road. “What’s going on here?” one of them barked.

  For an instant, they all froze, and the only sound was Katie yipping and scratching frantically at the door of Cole’s trailer. Then Mariah flung herself away from her father. “He is out of control.”

  When they saw Tyrell, both cops shifted into high alert. Both dropped their hands to their weapons. The taller one drew his revolver. Oh shit. Cole leapt forward, raising both hands as he put his body in front of Tyrell’s. “Let’s not get excited—”

  “I can date whoever I want!” Mariah raged. “I’m—”

  Shawnee threw an arm around the girl and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Now, sugar, these fine officers don’t wanna listen your caterwaulin’,” she said, laying on the backwoods southern accent.

  Mariah squealed in protest as Shawnee put her in a headlock, speaking low and fast into her ear as she dragged her away from her father. And away from the gun, its black, deadly eye focused on Cole’s chest. Fear congealed the air in his lungs. One twitch of a finger…

  “But I’m not from—” Mariah began.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Shawnee cut in. “You just hush up now. You’re makin’ the officers nervous.”

  And God knew, they did not want to alarm the man with the gun. Cole was acutely aware of Tyrell standing behind him, silent and motionless. Of Cruz moving to add his body to Cole’s human barricade as off in the periphery, Hank struggled to sit up.

  “Step aside,” the taller cop ordered.

  They stood their ground. Words. He needed words, and they had to be the right ones. “I’m Cole Jacobs. All of these people work for me. This is just a little family squabble. I’ve got it under control.”