The Texan's One-Night Standoff

by Charlene Sands

  “I’ll just get myself another beer, if you don’t mind. I’ll meet you in the other room, Dad.”

  “Okay, sure,” Beau said, heading out.

  Brooks cocked his mouth in a smile and followed behind Ruby. When she was almost through the kitchen doorway, his hand snaked out and tugged on her forearm. He spun her around to face him squarely. “What?” she asked, her brows gathering.

  “Look up.”

  She didn’t have to. The scent of fresh mistletoe filled her nostrils from above, and before she could comment, Brooks was swooping down, giving her a kiss. It was short-lived, but filled with passion—a kiss that had staying power. “Shelf life,” he whispered, searching her face with sea-blue eyes.

  “You set me up.” He’d put up mistletoe in half a dozen rooms in the house.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “Go,” she pleaded. “Watch football with your father.” Lupe was clearing the dinner dishes from the dining room table and would be back in the kitchen any second.

  “Bossy. I love that about you,” he whispered over her lips.

  Her skin heated at his seductive words. She pointed toward the great room. “Go. Pleeeze.”

  He saluted her. “Yes, ma’am. See you soon.” Then he turned and walked away.

  If he wanted to give her a preview of what was in store for her later that evening, he’d succeeded. The kiss had staying power; it had her nerves jumping and her body primed for his touch.

  After delivering a steaming mug of chamomile tea to Beau, she bundled up in a warm wool jacket and exited the house. She was halfway home when her phone rang out—Carrie Underwood again, keying her ex-boyfriend’s car.

  The screen displayed the caller. “Trace,” Ruby muttered.

  She couldn’t talk to him tonight. She let the call go to voice mail.

  But curiosity had her putting the phone to her ear to listen to his message. “Hey, baby. It’s Trace. I’m missing you like crazy. I’m coming home tomorrow. I need to see you, babe. We need to talk.”

  He sounded serious. Trace wanted to talk to her? The entire time they’d dated, he’d put her off about matters of the heart. He’d always said he would rather show her how he felt than ramble off meaningless words. And she’d bought that, hook, line and sinker. For a time, his actions had spoken louder than words. He’d been an attentive boyfriend, showing up with thoughtful gifts, taking her to country music concerts, letting her drive his most prized possession, his fully restored 1964 Ford truck. For a while Ruby had felt like the queen of the world. And she’d fallen hard for him, thinking him the perfect man for her—a man born and raised in Texas, a man who understood her love of horses, a man of the earth.

  Together they could enjoy life here in Cool Springs.

  But then something had happened. It had started out gradually. Trace had become restless. His attention had drifted. He seemed unsatisfied, as if he needed and wanted more out of life. He was systematically yet subtly pushing her away, and it had taken his being gone for months on the rodeo circuit without calling her for her to realize she’d been dumped. She’d spent many nights crying over him. Wondering what had gone wrong. She’d been in love with him. She’d banked her future on him, and she’d been sucker-punched in the gut when she realized they were truly over.

  She’d asked herself if he’d been tired of her, or if it was his life that needed a big change. She didn’t know, but what she did know was that he didn’t want her anymore. Maybe he’d never really loved her. She’d wasted a great deal of time on a man who, in the end, didn’t want a future with her.

  She wouldn’t be that gullible again.

  So as she entered her cottage, she showered and changed her clothes and set her mind on keeping her feelings for Brooks neutral. He was a city guy, Beau’s long-lost son and a man who’d be leaving town after the holidays. She couldn’t give herself fully to Brooks, but she could enjoy spending time with him and look forward to the pleasures they could give each other. Once again she asked herself if her attraction to Brooks was real or simply a way to redeem her blistered and battered soul.

  Brooks made her feel feminine and special and beautiful.

  That was enough for now.

  * * *

  Shortly after, Ruby parked her car so it was completely hidden from sight behind a feed shed and walked up to Brooks’s cabin. She knocked briskly. Her heart was pounding, her mind made up. When Brooks opened the door, she studied the handsome face, the beautiful blue eyes gazing back at her. “My shelf life for you has just expired.”

  Brooks’s eyes flickered, and a growl emanated from his throat.

  He took her hand and tugged her inside.

  Then slammed the door shut behind them.

  Brooks seemed to know. He really seemed to know she didn’t need mindless words as he peeled her dress down her arms and over her hips until she was clad only in a pink bra and panties. His groan of approval gave way to him ripping at the buttons of his shirt and yanking it off. Then he lifted her silently, his strong arms under her legs and his mouth covering hers as he moved down the hall. He didn’t let up on her lips until they reached the bedroom. His room was bathed in candlelight—a nice touch—and the soft beams delicately caressed the bedsheets.

  Instead of lowering her onto the bed, Brooks guided her down his body until her feet met with cool wood floor planks. He reached around and unhooked her bra, then slipped his fingers under the straps, pulling them away and freeing her breasts. He gazed at them for several heartbeats before he hooked her panties with a finger and slid them all the way down her legs. With the slightest move of her feet, she stepped out of them.

  It amazed her how much she trusted him. How she allowed him to bear witness to her naked body without worry or shyness. Maybe it was the glow of admiration in his eyes, the way they seemed to touch and warm her at the same time. Her nipples tightened under his scrutiny, and he noticed. “You’re cold.”

  She shook her head no.

  She wasn’t cold. She was turned on. Ready for whatever Brooks wanted to do.

  He walked around her and pressed his body to hers. The length of his manhood rubbed against her backside, and her eyelids lowered ever so slowly. He reached around and cupped her heavy breasts in his hands much like he had her rear end earlier in the day, and then nibbled lustily on the back of her neck. If he was trying to drive her crazy, he was doing a good job. Her body was throbbing now, hot and eager for more.

  He wasn’t through tormenting her. Next he used his palms to mold her skin from her shoulders down along the very edge of her breasts. He smoothed his hands to the hollow curves of her waist and lower still until his fingertips touched the apex of her thighs, teasing and tempting, bringing her immense pleasure. Instincts had her spreading her legs, welcoming the onslaught, and her breathing escalated. She couldn’t think of anything but what he was doing to her. What she wanted him to do to her.

  He rubbed against her as he brought her closer still, pressed so tight there was no doubt about his own thick arousal. And then his hand moved to her core, making her gasp and silently plead for more. His fingertips worked the folds of her skin and drew her out with tender but targeted strokes that jolted her body. “Easy now,” Brooks whispered as he wrapped his free arm around her waist to steady her while he continued his torment. She was so ready, so primed that it took only a few more infinitely refined strokes to send her sailing over the edge.

  She rocked back and shuddered long and hard, the spasms ridiculously powerful. When they were over, Brooks braced her in his arms, bestowing kisses on her shoulders, her back, and then spun her around and looked deep into her eyes.

  Ruby was in too much awe to say a word.

  Brooks wasn’t much in the mood for talking, either. He whipped off his belt and then removed the rest of his clothes. Her eyes dipped to his beautifully ripped and aroused body, and she fell to her knees before him and gave him the same pleasure he’d given her.
He groaned from deep in his chest with utter approval, and it wasn’t long before he was reaching for her, lifting her up.

  “I need to be inside you,” he rasped.

  “Lie down, Galahad.”

  And once he was in position, taking up the length of the bed and wearing protection, she threw her leg over his hips and straddled him. “Ah man, Ruby,” he said. “You have no idea how you look right now.”

  “Like I’m about to ride?”

  Even through his heated expression, he chuckled. “You comparing me to a horse?”

  “Take it as a compliment,” she said as she pressed herself down onto him. A low, guttural sigh emerged from his throat as her body took all of him inside. Then she began a slow, steady climb. Brooks’s hands were on her hips, holding on or guiding her—she couldn’t tell—and then the pace changed, surging and building to a crescendo that had her crying out.

  Brooks, too, was there, grunting and sighing in a mix of pain and pleasure.

  The climax hit them hard together, and their cries echoed from the cabin walls.

  Ruby fell atop him and he gathered her in, holding her tight, cradling her in his arms.

  She was spent, her limbs like jelly.

  It was a good thing she had Brooks on the brain tonight.

  Tomorrow she would have to deal with Trace.

  Seven

  Ruby stood at the gates of the Cool Springs Christmas Carnival on the outskirts of town. She used to barrel race at these fairgrounds as a young girl. Ruby smiled at the memories. Oh, how she’d always loved it when the carnival came to town. With her father looking on, she’d put her horse through the paces, leaning and reining and guiding those sharp turns, feeling at one with the animal. She’d brought home a few trophies in her day, but once her papa had passed on, Ruby turned to something she loved even more: training horses. It was his legacy that she now carried on at Look Away.

  Strings of twinkling lights crisscrossed the carnival grounds. There were giant holly wreaths as well as red-and-green banners announcing the holiday. The chatter of fun-seeking crowds, children’s laughter and shouts from hawkers selling cotton candy and funnel cakes brought it all home. Ruby smiled.

  It was here that Trace Evans first kissed her, back behind the shack that now sold hot chocolate and coffee. Her heart warmed despite the brisk December night as she stood there taking it all in.

  And then she saw him.

  Trace.

  Approaching from inside the gates, his smile was as broad and sure as she remembered. His polished snakeskin boots leaving dust behind, the six-foot-tall hunk of man worked his way through the crowd as if all the others surrounding him didn’t exist, his deep, dark eyes set only on her.

  Just like it used to be.

  All the worries she’d been plagued with in coming here vanished the instant she laid eyes on him. Seeing Trace, tall in his Stetson, broad in a black-and-white snap-down plaid shirt and giving her a megawatt smile, flooded her senses, and a shiver of warmth ran down her body. Crap. She was here only to put him off. To tell him they were officially over, so that they could both move on with their lives.

  She needed to do this face-to-face.

  But his face was filled with genuine joy. “Ruby,” he said, his voice husky and laced with that down-home drawl. “It’s good to see you.”

  She stood there immobilized as he paid for her ticket and tugged her through the gate. She realized he held her hand, and when she tried to pull away, he drew her up close, bent his head and gave her a quick kiss. “Sorry,” he said, dipping his head in that charming way he had. “I’ve been dreamin’ about doing that ever since you agreed to meet me here. Gawd, you look good, Ruby. I’ve missed you, honey.”

  “Trace.” She put force in her words, ignoring the crazy, mixed-up stirrings in her heart. “I’m here only to—”

  “I know, I know. You’re not happy with me right now. I get that. How about we enjoy the evening a little before we get all serious? Look over there. Funnel cakes. I’m dying for one. I bet you are, too.”

  “I, uh...”

  “Don’t you remember how much we used to crave those things? With all the fixin’s, too. Strawberries and whipped cream, the more powdered sugar the better. You game? Come on,” he said, taking her hand again. “I’m about to die of starvation.”

  She rolled her eyes, but a big smile emerged regardless of the company she was in. She was craving a funnel cake, too. They were available only once a year, at this carnival. This was her chance to indulge in a gooey, deep-fried concoction with all the heart-stopping extras. “Okay, sounds good.”

  “Delicious is a better word, sweetheart.”

  She wasn’t his sweetheart and she was ready to tell him, but a few young women and two school-age boys butted into the line, asking Trace for his autograph. He seemed genuinely delighted, giving them each individual attention as he took their names and signed their tickets, flyers, whatever paper article they could produce. Trace had made a name for himself in the field of bull riding. As far as rodeo champions went, he was equivalent to a soap opera star rather than an Academy Award winner, but to the folks around these parts, he was a local hero. Trace ate up all the attention.

  “Sorry about that, Ruby,” he said, guiding her toward a two-seater café table.

  “Do you get that a lot?” she asked, curious now.

  “Some,” he said, trying for humble, though his grin gave him away. “More and more.”

  Then his grin faded as his gaze roamed her face, and he sighed from deep in his chest. “I’m sure glad to see you. I’ve been lonely for you, honey.”

  “Last I checked, you broke up with me, Trace.”

  “I never did. Not officially. I, uh, like I told you on the phone, I had to focus on my career, and that meant blocking out everything else.”

  “That’s not exactly comforting, Trace.”

  She’d felt fully and totally dumped, and there was no way he could salvage what happened between them by using phony excuses.

  “Only because being with you was so damn distracting. When we were together, you were all I could ever think about.”

  He was talking like a man still in love, and if Ruby was that same gullible girl he’d left behind, she might have swallowed that line again. “When you care for someone, you call. You want to know how they’re doing. You—”

  “I made mistakes. I’m not denying it.” He played with his fork but didn’t dig into the funnel cake he craved. “But I’m home now, for good.”

  “What does that mean, for good?”

  “It means I’m gonna stay on in Cool Springs.”

  “You quit the rodeo?”

  He smiled sadly. “I think it quit me, Rube. I’m not cut out for the life. I’m never gonna make it big. Not like I wanted. I gave eight years of my life to the rodeo.”

  “But you love bull riding.” He’d been nineteen when he won his first local rodeo, and the entire town had gotten behind him. Some small businesses in the area sponsored him so he could pursue his dream. It seemed strange to her that he would give it up now. Yes, it was a young man’s sport, but he still had years left in him.

  “I did. I loved it, but it didn’t love me back, Ruby. I gave it my all, and I hope I didn’t lose you as a result of my pursuit. I just never got where I wanted to go, and I’m done with all of it. So I’ll be home now, just like we’d planned. If I’m lucky enough to win you back, I’m staying put right here.”

  For her equilibrium’s sake, she had to ignore the winning-you-back part. This was all too much to take in. She straightened in her seat to keep from showing her total surprise. “So, what will you do?”

  He shrugged. “Dad’s getting on in years. He wants me to take over the ranch full-time.”

  It didn’t sound like Trace. He’d always had big plans, and none of them included becoming a local rancher. He was Texan through and through, but Ruby had begun to believe his true heart was elsewhere.

  “I saw you on television the
other night. Homestead Hills?”

  “Oh, that. Yeah, I did that on a whim. Met some casting guy at the rodeo who said I’d be perfect in the role. I gave it a try, is all.”

  “A try?” From what she’d heard, people busted their butts and did all sorts of crazy things to win a role in a hit TV series.

  “Nothing much came of it,” he said dismissively.

  “You haven’t touched your funnel cake,” she said, finally raising her fork and digging in. The airy pastry, all sugared up, got her taste buds going. When she finally swallowed, a burst of deliciousness slid down her throat. “Mmm, it’s good. I shouldn’t, but I think I’m going to eat every last bite.”

  Trace smiled, his gaze focused on her mouth for several beats, and suddenly her insides quaked and her belly quivered. Those familiar yearnings returned. She couldn’t believe that one year ago, they’d been doing this very thing: eating funnel cakes and talking about their future.

  “Soon as I start,” he said, lifting his fork and gazing into her eyes, “this here dessert is gonna be history.”

  True to his word, Trace demolished his funnel cake.

  Ruby wound up leaving half of hers behind. Her stomach was tied in knots once everything Trace had said to her finally sank in. She’d been raised to forgive with an open heart. But would she be a fool to do so?

  As they rode the Ferris wheel, circling to the highest point, sitting hip to hip, their legs brushing, they took in the nighttime view of all of Cool Springs, the moon and stars appearing close enough to touch. Trace took her hand, entwining their fingers, and gave her a slight squeeze. In that moment, she saw a glimpse of what life with Trace could be like again.

  And a few moments later, Trace set his money down at a gaming booth and wasn’t satisfied until he hit the bull’s-eye target with a dart gun to win her an adorable stuffed reindeer. “Here you go, miss,” he said, bowing and presenting her with the toy.

  He used to be her hero.

  Could he be again?

  She was as confused as ever, with the Trace she remembered returning to her and saying all the right things, making her feel like she mattered to him. She was a long way from forgiving him...and then there was Brooks.