When Things Got Hot in Texas

by Lori Wilde

  Her head jerked up.

  “Why don’t we make a promise; just for the time we’re in here, to only tell the truth, as we know it.”

  She cocked her head. “What’s the catch?”

  “There isn’t one.” He spread his hands, palm up. “I’ve got no sleeves to hide any cards. Besides, you’ve got to know this’d be harder for me than you.”

  Her pale, delicate brows pulled together, looking for an angle.

  “To show good faith, you can go first. Ask me anything.” He was out on the edge now. But on the edge with her felt better than the whole mesa with someone else. Besides, he’d shared secrets with her this morning and she hadn’t burned him. Yet.

  She hopped up on the stainless-steel table and yipped. “Dang, that’s cold.” She bracketed her thighs with her hands. “You keep saying you’ve changed since last year, and I’ve seen a hint of that. But people don’t just change what they’ve been their whole lives. What caused it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re good with this truth thing, James.”

  “No, really. I was riding in the finals, then I woke up in the hospital and things were different.”

  “You don’t remember anything about when you were out? No white light, no voice, no visions?”

  He closed his eyes, trying to remember. All he got was a blank. “I wish I had. Then I’d understand.” He opened his eyes. She leaned in, frowning intently. “All I know is, when I woke up, iIt was like I didn’t fit in my old life anymore. I didn’t enjoy drinking, one-night stands—”

  Her snort stopped him. “You’re going to tell me that you haven’t had sex since last December?”

  There was nowhere to look. No window, nothing but bare walls and a door. So, he looked at that. “I tried, once I got back on my feet. It—um . . . didn’t go well.”

  “Truth?”

  “Hey, no one was more surprised than I. Well, and maybe my ‘date’. It just didn’t seem right somehow.” He shrugged. “That’s how everything seems since I woke up. A part of me sees the same old things differently – like there’s another guy looking out of my eyes. I know that sounds crazy, but that’s the best I can explain it.” He explained finding the Zen book. “You know, I hadn’t realized how ignorant I had been living. I only thought about the next hit of pleasure, be it danger, booze or girls. Like I thought it was payback for the crap in my past.” He shook his head. “That book showed me I had it backwards. Because of my past, I was in a place to understand other people’s pain. I could have been helping . . .” He studied her soft planes of her face. “But it wasn’t until you took me out to the reservation that I really understood. See, my lifestyle was as camouflaged as that cake. It was to keep people from getting close—from discovering that the ass on the outside was only a Halloween mask, compared to the ugliness underneath. I’d do anything not to stop running and face that.”

  “And?” She sat immobile; intense.

  “It’s funny. Facing it took away its power. But that stuff eats at the back of your brain, you know? Like in the dark, in places you don’t go, it grows into a hideous monster of nightmare proportions. It catches you in your sleep. So, in the daylight, without you realizing, you run faster. And faster. But you can’t outrun the nights.”

  He ran his hand over the back of his neck, to loosen the tightness. “It feels so good to stop running.”

  “Whether you remember it or not, God must have been involved in this.”

  “If you say so. I only believe what I see. But I can’t totally disregard it, either. Like I said, I don’t remember. But the great part is, I know I can do something now. I know I can’t help that poor Indian kid. But if I help people around me who need help, maybe, given enough years, I can atone for my mistakes.”

  “That’s an incredible story.”

  “Look, I know I’m still an ass sometimes. I guess a lifetime habit takes a long time to break. I just want you to know that I’m trying.”

  Her soft smile melted his insides to warm fuzziness. It felt like hope.

  He leaned a hip against the table and crossed his arms. “My turn.”

  She studied her dirty tennis shoes. “Guess that’s only fair.”

  He had so many questions. Where to start? At the beginning, of course. “You saved your virginity longer than probably any girl in the state. Why—”

  “I told you. It couldn’t be someone local.”

  “I get that. It even makes sense. But why me? Especially last year. I was hardly your type.”

  “I wasn’t looking for a ‘type’. I was looking to solve a problem.”

  He crossed his arms and waited.

  “That’s the truth.” She swung her feet, back and forth. Back and forth. Focusing on them as if they had the answer.

  He reached over, put his finger under her chin and lifted so he could see her face. “Why are you afraid of me?”

  She bolted upright, raising her chin off his finger-perch.

  He used it to point at her. “And don’t tell me you’re not. You’re the damndest mess of hot and cold I’ve ever run across in one person. What is it?”

  “I’m not afraid.” But her shoulders collapsed, pulling in. Her back bowed. “Not of you, exactly.” She took a long breath, ending in a sigh. “My parents have been in love for thirty-five years. I want that. I’m not settling for anything but that. I went out tons in high school. They were sweet guys.” Her voice tailed to a whisper. “Sweet, loving, boring guys.

  “They wanted a little woman. A housewife. Oh, they’d be fine with me working, at least until the babies came. I’d picture myself in a little house outside of town, the wife of a hardware store owner, or a real estate broker . . . it made me so claustrophobic I wanted to claw my way out of my own brain, just thinking about it.” She looked up. “My parents work side-by-side in the business. Equals. Mom bakes and does the books, dad smokes the meat, and does the schmoozing. Both know that they couldn’t do it without the other. That’s what I want, right there.”

  “Okay, but . . .”

  She held up a hand. “Then you blew in that weekend, bigger than life, and way too full of yourself. Easy to ignore. But I watched you ride and realized it wasn’t all brag. You’re the total opposite of me; you take chances every day that I wouldn’t take, even once. You run headlong into life, and to whatever’s next, down the road.” She shot him that conflicted look he realized he’d seen a lot this weekend. “You were the antithesis of boring. Pretty heady stuff for a hometown schoolteacher.” She went back to studying her shoes. Back and forth, back and forth. “That first night, you did what I expected.” Her nose wrinkled a bit. “Relieved me of my virginity and passed out.”

  Ouch. Despite the temperature his face heated, remembering the asshole he used to be, and maybe still was. A little, anyway.

  “The next morning though. That, I didn’t expect.” She sat up, and turned to look at him, but he could tell by her jerky movements, she fought herself to do it. “You were sweet, and kind and caring.” Her eyes strayed to her feet once more. “You took your time and showed me what it meant to make love. That morning I added one more thing to my list. I wanted that.

  “I’m sorry I’m sending mixed messages, and it doesn’t make any more sense to me than to you. I know want I want is an oxymoron.” She shrugged. “I’m looking for the relationship my parents have . . . with a crazy-ass come-and-go bull rider.”

  The truth smacked him in the chest. The concussions reverberated through his brain, to sink deeper, like pelting rain on a cracked desert landscape. “You? Want me?” He slammed his mouth shut. God. He sounded like a lonesome orphan, begging to be chosen. He sounded like a girl.

  “Well, not that arrogant butt-wipe, but if you truly are a recovering butt-wipe . . .”

  Her smile was tentative, but hope hit his blood like a bolus of heroin. Words piled into his mouth—soothing words to convince, assurances that . . . lies. He’d promised.

  He took her fingers in
his hand. “You have no idea how bad I want to tell you I’m the man you are looking for. I think maybe I can be. I sure want to be. But I can’t lie. I don’t know that new guy well enough to promise.

  “But I’ll tell you one thing I do know. I know you’re way too good for me. Not only because you’ve been to college. You’re a better person than me. You never would’ve left that kid on the reservation to bleed to death.”

  She squeezed his hand. “Stead, you’re too hard on yourself. You had no role models. You were a kid. You were afraid.”

  “All true. But you still wouldn’t have made that decision. What I’m trying to say is, I think I can learn a lot from you. I’m a better man when I’m around you. So, I want you to know, I’m going to do everything in my power to be that man you want.” He held her gaze. He wanted her to know what this meant to him.

  Simply everything.

  She gave him a shy smile. “Then I guess we’ll both see, huh?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” His hope fell faster than the stock market after an election. He had almost a year’s worth of work to do before he’d have a chance with her. But at least there was a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

  “I can learn from you, too. I’m tired of living like a timid little field mouse. I just may be willing to take one of those crazy risks that scare me spitless.” She closed her fingers around his and tugged.

  She didn’t have to tug hard. Daring to hope, he leaned in. She put her arms around his neck and when her tongue touched his lips, his heart raced trying to replace the blood to his brain that had drained to his crotch. He nudged her knees apart and pulled her close, until he wasn’t sure when he ended and she began. Their heavy breathing was the only sound in the room.

  Her kiss was different than others’. Or maybe the new guy changed his old perception. Either way, he didn’t care because this was better. Kissing had always been a means to an end. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, but he was always in a rush to get to the next thing. And the next.

  This kiss was an end in itself. He wanted to linger, to savor the different textures: the different feel of her lips, her teeth, her tongue. It never occurred to him how much you could share in a kiss; it was an unspoken conversation, an exchange. He lightened the kiss and moved to the baby-soft skin of her cheek and on to the sensitive shell of her ear. When he sucked the lobe, she moaned and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer.

  He kissed his way down to her neck, and she let her head fall back, opening to him. Him—the guy who’d left without a backward glance last year. Worse yet, without a backward thought.

  It would be different, this time. He worshipped her neck, gently, carefully. The trust of this good woman was precious, and he wanted her to know he understood that. When he reached the top of her shirt, she slid out of his shirt, reached for the hem of hers and whisked it off. He unhooked the back of her bra and pulled it down her arms. She had the kind of breasts he liked best; not large, but full underneath, and sloping on top. He held them gently, weighing them. When he rolled the peaked little button nipples, she bucked against him.

  “No fair.” She panted. “You have too many clothes on.”

  “Easy fix.” He peeled off his scrap of a t-shirt and pulled her close. Despite the temperature, her skin was hot. And soft. She made a sinuous movement that rubbed across his chest, blazing a tingling trail. Her hands roamed his back, as if memorizing him by braille.

  He ground against her, and took a nipple in his mouth and sucked.

  She whined. “We both have too many clothes on.”

  He stepped back, toed off his boots, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his Wranglers and let them fall. She squirmed out of her shorts and yipped when her bare butt touched stainless steel.

  He chuckled and reached for her. “Come’re. I’ll get you warm.”

  She came into his arms without a heartbeat’s hesitation. “Wait.” He leaned back until he could see her face. “Our phones aren’t the only thing outside the door. I don’t have any protection.”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  “They tested me in the hospital, and I swear to you, I haven’t been with anyone since.”

  She tilted her head and looked up into his eyes. “I trust you.”

  He’d never given her reason to. All he’d given her was words, a promise. A wave of tenderness rose in him. Blinking it back, he bent his head and kissed her.

  She broke off the kiss, panting. “Now, Stead. Now.”

  The table was the perfect height. He pushed her shoulders back until she reclined, resting her palms on the table behind her. Her breasts rose and fell with her jagged breath, and her taut belly led his eyes down to the ginger hair between her legs. He guided himself to the slick edge of her, holding her gaze the whole time. It had been so long—he wanted to plunge in and release in a fiery explosion. The old him would have. He glided in, teasing them both, watching her face loosen with want. He slid out, slow and smooth, fighting the need that surged like an electric current.

  She whimpered, wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him to her. He ran his hands down her torso, to her sex. He touched her, and she bucked. He stroked her, once, twice, and she came apart, her hips rocking, her muscles milking him. He gathered her to him and lifted her, burying himself to the end of her. When she bit his shoulder, pain and pleasure built, merging to exquisite release.

  He collapsed on top of her on the table, listening to her galloping heartbeat, trying to catch his breath and make his body work enough to raise himself.

  When he tried, she tightened her arms. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

  He heard the tears in her voice, and raised onto his elbows, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that ran down the sides of her face. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. It’s just . . .” She sniffed.

  “Too much. I know.” He kissed her eyes. “Here. You’re going to get cold.” He raised himself to standing and grabbed his shirt. She sat up and he helped her shrug into it. “Scoot over.” When she did, he hopped up on the table. “Hoooeee, that’s cold.”

  She chuckled. “Told you.”

  “Come here.” He pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her.

  He laid his chin on the top of her head. “You sleep, now.”

  She rested her head on his chest and settled like a purring cat.

  He leaned back against the wall, holding her safe for hours, thinking.

  Chapter 7

  Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere

  They’re in each other all along.

  “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”

  Rumi - Zen for Dummies

  Stead woke and, careful not to move his deadened legs, considered the face of the angel in his lap. Her eyelids were translucent, her sable eyelashes against pale cheeks. Relaxed in sleep, her lips were fuller, the dip in the upper one more pronounced. She lay on her side, wrapped around him, head resting on his arm. She looked young, innocent, breakable.

  Way too fragile for the likes of him. Had he made a mistake? He’d wanted her–wanted the warm banked fire in her eyes, in her soul. But he was clumsy, with his words, with his habits. He’d already seen how he could cut her without even meaning to.

  He was committed to his new lifestyle. Not only for her; his life was already better for them. But what if he screwed up? It was one thing to live when it was only him that would go down, but now . . .

  He knew alone. He knew how to navigate the ins and outs of a solitary life. He’d never considered that not being alone could be scary. Nodding your head in the chute, you committed for eight seconds. This—this was much scarier. How did men do it? Stead had had lots of women, but he’d never let a woman in before. Now that door was open, and Harper curled up next to his heart.

  She knew his secrets and wanted him anyway. Him. Steadman James, the one the prospective parents always hurried past, never looking him in the eye. The one nobody ever c
hose. Until Harper.

  It made him feel normal. Clean.

  Whole.

  How could he not give his whole self to the woman who convinced him he was?

  She stirred in his arms and stretched. “What time do you think it is?”

  “No idea. But just in case, we’d probably better get into some clothes.” He pulled her bra from under his butt. Sometime during the night, they’d spread a layer of clothes on the table as a buffer between their skin and the frigid steel. He waited until she sat up, then scooted off the edge of the table.

  His bad knee buckled. “Unh.”

  She grabbed his arm to steady him. “You okay?”

  He grabbed his jeans. “Oh yeah. No problem.”

  “Why do you do that?”

  He leaned against the table and put one leg in his jeans. “Do what?”

  “Play Superman. You go into ‘tough guy, bull-rider’ mode and I’m on the outside again.” She shrugged into her clothes fast, like she didn’t want to be naked in front of him.

  He stepped into the other leg, pulled them up, and fastened them. How did this woman know what buttons to push to unlock every secret he possessed? What the hell. She knew the worst. Might as well tell the rest. “Hardly Superman. Not even a bull rider much longer.”

  “Why?”

  “My reaction time is shot. So is my balance. I can’t compete at the top level.”

  “But you only bucked off in the final round.”

  “It’s something you just know.” He shrugged into his t-shirt. “I can limp along I guess, hoping for a good draw in the finals, making enough to pay for my half of gas and keep me in rodeodogs. But I’m not holding out hope of making it to Vegas at the end of the season.” His words echoed up from the hollow space that had opened, deep in his chest. Saying it out loud made it real. This time next year, Ace would be hitting the road alone. The one constant in Stead’s life would be moving on. Leaving him behind.

  He ground bitterness between his teeth.

  “Oh, Stead. I’m so sorry.”