The snap of curtains flapping against the brisk breeze filtering through the room carried the clean scent of rain. Moisture began to puddle on the tile. A heavy sigh pushed from his diaphragm. For a moment he thought about getting up and closing the damn thing.
Nahhhh… It could wait a little longer.
Releasing a shuddering breath, he tucked his hands behind his head and the pillow, attempting to relax his body. He sucked in several deep breaths, releasing them slowly. When that didn’t work, he rolled over and eased to the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the floor. Cold radiated up his legs going bone-deep. Elbows pressed into his knees, he leaned forward and buried his face in his palms.
He despised dreaming. Most of all he loathed the anxiety that seeped into him on nights like tonight. But this dream had shaken him to the core, because this time he saw his own image in his father’s face. Instead of Clancy’s mother cringing beneath the man’s large hands, he saw Tess.
“Shit.”
Clancy pushed to his feet, his fingers splaying wide, before returning them into fists. No way in hell would he become his father, even if it meant never experiencing love or a wife or children—a family.
A picture of Tess sitting at one end of his dining room table across from him while her family laughed at something Shelby said flickered in his mind. Quickly it changed to the moment his and Tess’s hands had touched in the kitchen and they gazed deep into each other’s eyes. Without a doubt he knew she could fill that something he had longed for in his life, especially since he’d seen how happy Jessie and Wade were together.
Fuck. What was he saying?
He wouldn’t know love if it jumped up and bit him on the ass, much less risk putting someone he cared for in the position to live the life he and his mother had. Few in this community knew about his family’s history or the dirty little secret that had driven his mother away without a single good-bye.
Hands trembling, he reached for the half-empty bottle on the nightstand. He didn’t hesitate tipping the beer to his lips. The moment the warm, bitter ale touched his tongue, he cringed.
“I need a real drink.” Even with that said, he downed the rest of the beer, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.
His stomach growled its disapproval, churning a warning to feed it before abusing it more, but Clancy paid it no heed. If he wanted whiskey he would have to get dressed and go out in the stormy night, because he’d finished the last of his good Scotch a couple days ago.
Thunder boomed and a wisp of chilly air reminded him of the incoming weather. He skirted the growing puddle, closing the window a little too hard, causing it to bang and the glass to rattle.
With an exasperated huff, he stabbed his fingers through his hair. Shoulders dropping, he pivoted to stare into the hearth. Embers burned a dying orange-red in the fireplace, giving off the faint scent of pine, but no real warmth.
Once again he scanned the room, locating his jeans draped across an overstuffed chair next to the fireplace. After collecting a clean shirt, skivvies, and socks from his dresser, he collapsed into the chair and tugged his socks on, before he donned his briefs and slipped a T-shirt over his head.
Another heavy sigh pushed from his lips. His hands fell listlessly into his lap. For a moment, he sat unmoving. Tess had haunted his thoughts throughout the week and now that damn dream. Frustrated, he pinched the bridge of his nose, and then he reached for his pants.
The damn things were cold as ice and still damp from the storm he had been caught in earlier while helping Milo feed the stock. As Clancy stuck a leg into his jeans, goose bumps prickled across his skin. The thought of retrieving a dry pair of pants flashed, but what the hell. By the beat of the rain against the bedroom window, he was in for a wet night. Without delay, he finished dressing and pushed to his feet.
Before he fastened his belt, Clancy tucked his shirt into his jeans and paused. Have I crossed the line—become a drunk like my old man? Emotion welled. Tears of self-reproach moistened his eyes, but he willed them away with disgust and shame.
Shit. He was tired. Every bone in his body felt weary, knees threatening to buckle. Stumbling, he grasped the chair. “I’m nothing like you.”
Not yet, that ominous inner voice whispered.
Truth was he rode a thin line.
Clancy liked to drink and party. Drinking was not only entertaining but a way to drown his loneliness. Still, he’d done without alcohol plenty of times—he just preferred not to.
What needled him the most—got under his skin—was he enjoyed sex a little rough, but not violent like his father. Memories rose fast and furious of his mother’s cries, her struggles, ripped clothing, bruises and blood—so much blood.
Again he threaded his fingers through his hair.
Dammit. He’d never lost control with Jessie or any of the other women he had been with. Of course, he usually stuck to one-night stands and threesomes. The second emotions were involved, he hightailed it, because the truth was—he didn’t trust himself.
Thoughts of Tess rose again.
Just the way she commanded his attention when she entered a room made his pulse speed, his body tighten. The obvious love she felt for her brother and sisters warmed him, made him yearn to see that look in her eyes when she gazed at him. And the sadness he glimpsed from time to time made him long to hold and protect her. Tell her everything would be okay.
A woman like her could turn him around.
A sudden sense of strength, of purpose, filled him as he crossed the room. He might not be the man for her, but he could be a better man. After tonight, he’d focus more on constructive things. Maybe he’d head down to Austin and check out a couple of horses. He’d been looking to expand his breeding lines. When he pushed open the bedroom door, stubbing his toe against the doorjamb, his resolve faltered.
Who was he kidding? Even if she made him want to be more than what he was—a broken man—they didn’t have a shot in hell to be together.
Tess didn’t need nor want someone like him, even though he was sure she felt the same magnetic attraction. Hell. The space around them lit up with energy when they came into contact. Still she must have recognized his defect and wisely decided to ignore the impossible draw.
Bad genes.
They were his inheritance. His great-grandfather, grandfather and father had made sure of that. The whole fuckin’ male population of Wisemans had been drunks and abusers.
Another earlier memory of Jessie and him speaking about children cut through the thickness of his mind. They had sworn never to marry or bear a child. His dear friend had reneged on one of their promises. How long would it be before she and Wade were setting up a nursery? Unexpected regret rose so swiftly it made him stagger. It took him a moment before he continued.
As he crossed the living room, he stopped at the credenza and scooped his keys, wallet and cell phone off the table against the wall and pushed the items deep into a pocket. Taking a few more steps, he leaned down and retrieved his boots. When the last shoe was on, he grabbed his black Stetson and leather jacket from the hat rack and opened the door, closing it behind him.
No stars riddled the sky filled with heavy gray clouds. The evening’s rain had finally turned into a fine mist. A gentle wind caressed his face as he squared his Stetson atop his head and slipped on his coat. Filling his lungs with the moist air, he allowed the clean scent to clear his head, chasing away some of the anxiety that tightened the tendons along his shoulders.
One drink was all he needed, and then he’d go back home and try to get some much-needed sleep. He had plenty to do tomorrow.
On determined footsteps he headed toward his truck and climbed in. For a moment he sat staring into the darkness, knowing he should return to the house and try to get some sleep. Instead, he jabbed the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life.
Tires squealed against the wet asphalt, the empty truck bed fishtailed, side to side. As he maneuvered the vehicle around the circle driveway, he glanced i
n the rearview mirror at his Spanish-style ranch house that held more haunting memories than good ones—secrets better left buried. He attempted to vanquish his thoughts. Besides, it hurt to think. His temples throbbed with the onset of a headache.
Country music played softly on his radio. The dark stretch of road ahead of him seemed to go on forever. His destination was unknown. How long he drove he didn’t know, didn’t care. Tonight any ol’ watering hole would suffice.
Lights of an oncoming vehicle almost blinded him. Instinctively, his eyelids closed. When he opened them, the neon sign of Fast Freddie’s beamed ahead.
“This place will do,” he muttered.
The bar was packed for a Thursday night. The parking lot was filled with trucks, jeeps, and an assortment of cars. Several cowboys stood outside the joint while others mingled around a jacked-up pickup sipping on longnecks. A couple of women huddled beneath the awning just outside the entrance, puffing on their cigarettes.
Clancy steered his truck next to a little, red Jaguar and cut the engine. When he opened the door and got out, laughter and loud music assailed him, threatening to drown out his thoughts—just what he needed.
Gravel popped beneath his boots as he headed for the large, double doors. Nodding toward one of the Mendez brothers, cattle ranchers out of Leon Valley, Clancy continued onward while at the same time he reached for his wallet and extracted a ten. A large, burly bouncer accepted Clancy’s cover charge and he stepped into the bar, making a beeline for the only thing that calmed his nerves on an evening like this.
Whiskey.
Perhaps it was the fact it was ladies’ night, or maybe it was the three-dollar beers advertised, but damn there were a lot of women sashaying around. Clancy took a moment to inhale the scenery, and then realized he was looking for Tess’s face in each of the ladies who passed by him.
Uneasy with what he’d discovered, Clancy bellied up to the bar. “A shot of your best whiskey.”
The pretty blonde behind the counter flashed him a pearly grin. “Thirsty, cowboy?” She reached beneath the bar and retrieved a dusty bottle. The more dust on the bottle the higher the cost, but who cared.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Hip against the counter, he gazed across the crowd. It looked like everyone was having fun, everyone but him. When the bartender set the shot glass of dark mahogany alcohol down in front of him, he tipped his hat.
“Thanks.”
Several tears of the liquor fell slowly down the outside of the glass as he reached for the drink and held it to his nose. The consistency was thick, the scent strong and smoky—a sign of quality.
Already he was feeling better. He raised the glass before him in a salute. “Anything worth doing is worth doing right.” The wise saying even pertained to getting drunk, in his book.
Without a second thought he tipped the drink to his lips. The smooth burn felt good going down his parched throat—too good. He slammed the glass down with a thud. “Hit me with another and start a tab.”
So much for only one drink.
A hearty slap on the back nearly made him spill his next drink. He glanced around to be greeted with a huge grin.
“This is a surprise.” Ty eased next to him, signaling the bartender for another cold one. She popped the top on the longneck and it hissed. “Thought you said you were hitting the hay early?” He accepted the beer and took a long swig.
“Changed my mind,” Clancy grumbled. Even though his friend was entertaining, he still wasn’t looking for company tonight. No, tonight all he wanted to do was forget.
Ty pivoted and leaned so he abutted the counter. Eyeing the crowd, he smiled and tipped his hat when a woman passed by. “Lot of lookers here tonight.”
But Clancy wasn’t interested. He didn’t even turn around, until he heard a scuffle and voices rise. “Well, shit,” he groaned. This wasn’t good, not good at all.
In the center of the room Tess’s brother stood nose to nose with Raúl Mendez. The large man outweighed the boy by fifty pounds. Not to mention, his other three brothers were moving through the crowd quickly.
Clancy moved without thinking. In seconds he was by Levi’s side.
Laughing, he threw an arm around the young man’s shoulders. “Gilmore, where the hell did you run off to?” He attempted to subtly guide the boy away, but Levi’s expression hardened as he jerked away.
Ty sauntered up beside Clancy. With an upward nod he greeted Raúl. “Mendez.”
“This young pup with you?” The Hispanic man threw Levi a scowl.
Ty glanced quickly toward Clancy and then back to Raúl. “Us. He’s with me and Wiseman.”
Anxiety and excitement crawled beneath Clancy’s skin. Kicking someone’s ass tonight sounded mighty tempting. Four against three didn’t usually concern him, but then again Levi was only a kid. He didn’t stand a chance in a brawl with the Mendezes. Nor did fighting ever solve anything or was it likely to set a positive example for the boy. Still the thought of blowing off some steam made his blood simmer.
“Whatever the misunderstanding, it’s over,” Clancy stated firmly.
“But—”
“Gilmore,” Clancy growled, narrowing his eyes on the boy. “It’s over. Now shake the man’s hand and let’s get out of here.”
Levi reluctantly extended his hand to Raúl. The handshake might not have been a good idea, because it gave the two angry men a moment longer to glare into each other’s eyes. But thankfully Raúl’s brothers weren’t in a fighting mood. They sandwiched their brother and eased him away, as Ty and Clancy did the same to Levi.
When they were well out the front door, Clancy turned to Levi. “What the hell are you doing in a place like this?”
“What’s it to you?” Levi slurred. Swaying away from Clancy, he made a beeline to his truck.
Clancy grabbed him by an arm. “Oh no you don’t.” When Levi took a swing at him, he ducked, wrapping him in a big bear hug and pinning his arms to his side.
The boy hissed and spit, struggling. All the while Ty leaned against a pickup. Judging by his grin, he was amused. When Levi’s energy subsided, he breathed heavily, the scent of too much beer cloaking him.
“Your sister is going to be pissed.” Clancy could just imagine the fit she would have when Levi waltzed into the house shitfaced.
“So you’re Levi Gilmore?” Ty frowned, taking the boy’s measure.
“We’ve met?” Levi asked.
Ty’s chin dipped. “No, but my sister has mentioned you.”
Oh shit. Tori Peterson would be right around Levi’s age and go to the same school.
“Levi, this is Ty Peterson.”
“Ty Peterson?” Levi’s eyes widened. “Your sister is fuckin’ hot.”
Clancy rolled his eyes skyward. The kid had shit for brains.
As Ty moved ominously toward them, Clancy held out a hand, stopping him. “Give him some slack. The boy’s drunk. I’ll take him home. Can you drive his truck, and then I’ll bring you back for yours?” Before Ty could answer, Clancy continued. “Levi, your keys.”
“I can drive,” he insisted.
“Keys. Now!”
The boy dug into his pockets and held out his keys. Clancy grabbed them, tossing them to Ty. That’s when Levi stumbled and Clancy caught him.
“Thanks, man. Uh. Anyway, we could do this without my sister getting wind of it?”
Guiding him to his truck, Clancy opened the door. “You’re under age and you’re drunk. As I see it you have two choices. Either you tell her or I will.”
Levi climbed in and waited until Clancy was behind the wheel before he collapsed, his body going limp as his head struck the window with a bang.
“Levi?”
The boy didn’t answer.
Clancy chuckled. “Boy, I wouldn’t want to be you come tomorrow.” He started the truck, cramming it into gear for the drive home.
The only good thing about this night was he would be able to see Tess once again.
Chapter Se
ven
Dressed in her flannel pajamas, Tess paced the floor one more time. Where the hell was Levi? She had called Johnny’s house only to discover her brother wasn’t there. Her second telephone call to another friend resulted in no answer, which was the same with Levi’s cell phone. He always answered his phone.
Anxiety crawled across her skin, raising goose bumps. It was approaching midnight. Where could he be? She wrapped her arms around herself and made another pass. The roar of an engine and gravel popping in the driveway made her pulse leap. Without hesitating, she ran for the door and flung it wide.
“You are in so much trouble—” Her words died along with the rash of shit she had perched on her tongue. It wasn’t Levi’s truck that stopped before her, but Clancy’s crew-cab. She attempted to peer inside, but the windows were so dark it made it impossible.
When Clancy stepped out of his truck he didn’t give her his usual roguish smile. No. Tonight there was something dark in his eyes that even the moonlit night couldn’t hide.
Something was wrong. She sensed it.
The air in her chest thickened as he moved toward her. It didn’t help that Levi’s truck pulled into the driveway and it wasn’t her brother behind the wheel.
Tess’s feet froze where she stood. “Where’s my brother?”
Her heart nearly stopped when Clancy opened the passenger door and her brother spilled into his arms. Her feet found wings as they carried her to Levi’s side.
“Oh God. What’s wrong?” Then she smelled the strong scent of alcohol. “He’s drunk?” Her voice screeched, before heated anger swept across her face. “You did this to him?” She widened her incriminating glare now pinned on Clancy. “I can’t believe you’d give a minor alcohol.” Her fingers curled into fists. “He’s only eighteen.” She barely held back the growing need to strike the man. “How could you?”
Look what the bastard had done to her poor brother. Unconscious, Levi’s body was limp, smelling like a distillery.
“Now hold your damn horses,” someone behind her barked.
Tess whirled around to face the cowboy marching toward her with purpose. Ty came to a halt before her, frowning.
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