“Yes, and I am. In fact, I was having a really nice vacation until you turned up. So, if you could just go the hell back to Austin I’d—”
“Rose.”
“What?” She refused to look at him, fussing around with her towel instead.
“Rose,” he repeated.
She didn’t respond, hoping he’d go away, and then warm fingers closed around her chin, turning her head and she found him crouched down beside her lounger, the look in his eyes sliding right through her chest and into her heart.
“What do you want?” she demanded before he could say anything, her eyes filling with tears no matter how hard she tried to blink them back. “Why did you come back?”
He let out a long breath, his fingers on her skin so utterly gentle. “Because I wanted to tell you that you were right. I was selfish. I was a coward. And I should never have let you walk away the way I did.”
She really didn’t want to cry in public, but a tear leaked out all the same. “So why did you?”
“Because, I was afraid.” His gaze was very direct. “It’s hell to watch someone you love get trapped by addiction and not be able to do a damn thing for them.” He paused a moment. “I was…angry with Carly. Angry at her for refusing my help. For blaming me. And I was angry she didn’t listen that night when I told her not to go out. But being angry with her for all of that is really shitty. It’s far easier to take responsibility for what happened to her so I could be angry with myself instead.”
Her throat tightened. “Oh, West.”
“I love my sister,” he said quietly. “But it’s hard loving someone in pain. It takes it out of you. Makes you not want to have anything to do with loving someone ever again.”
Her chest ached and she didn’t know what to say or how to help, so all she said was, “I’m sorry, West.”
The look on his face softened. “Why are you apologizing? I’m the one who acted like a selfish prick. I was trying to protect myself, because you have the power, baby girl. You have the power to hurt me like nobody else.”
Well, that made no sense. “Why?”
His thumb traced the line of her cheekbone, a tender gesture that made her throat close. “I think you know why.”
Her heart was beginning to throb, a deep painful beat. “West…”
“I love you, Rose,” West said. “I love you and it fucking terrifies me.”
She blinked, her eyes full of tears, her chest sore, not quite able to take it in. “What?”
He raised his other hand and took her face between his palms. “I know I was an asshole to you and I know I hurt you. I lied to you and I lied to myself. But I don’t want a night or even a week. And I don’t want to just make you come. I want to make you happy, make you smile. I want to support you in everything you do, watch you come into your own. I want to love you, Rose Hammond.”
Another dumb tear slid down her cheek as his words slowly filtered through her. “I don’t understand. What changed your mind?”
He touched her mouth very gently. “I talked to your sister. She wasn’t happy that we hooked up and threatened me with death. Then she asked me what was more important, you or my fear? And the only answer I could think of was you. You, always you.” He stroked the line of her lower lip. “You matter to me, Rose. And I want to earn the pedestal you put me on. I want to live up to it, be the man you need me to be.”
Rose couldn’t speak. She was full on crying now and it was embarrassing as hell, but she couldn’t stop.
West only looked at her, his eyes were full of an expression she’d never thought she’d see in them: tenderness. “I’m sorry I hurt you, darlin’. Will you forgive me?”
And she suddenly found her voice. “Yes. Of course, I forgive you. And you don’t have to be the man I need, West O’Connor. You were that man already the moment I saw you in the bar.”
West’s eyes glowed bright silver and then he leaned forward, and his mouth covered hers in a kiss that was full of heat and need and longing, and love all at once.
Then he murmured against her mouth, “I’ve got a really, really crazy idea.”
She shivered. “Does it involve going back to my hotel room?”
“Well sure. But first, have you ever visited Elvis’s Little Chapel of Love?”
Rose pulled back, her eyes wide. Then she narrowed them, because no, he could not be thinking what she thought he was thinking. “Why?”
There was wickedness in West’s gaze, a wickedness she’d never seen before. “Marry me, darlin’.”
Rose opened her mouth. Shut it.
Her sister would be horrified.
Her sister could go take a flying leap off the Hoover Dam.
“Yes,” she said.
Epilogue
West kicked open the door of Duchess Bail Bonds, then picked up his new wife and carried her over the threshold, much to her delight.
They’d gotten married in the chapel and then, because Rose wanted everyone to know as soon as possible, he’d chartered a helicopter and had flown them straight back to Austin himself.
There were people standing around the reception desk, and they all looked in West and Rose’s direction as he stepped inside, their eyes widening in shock.
Nora’s mouth dropped open and stayed that way.
Rhys raised an eyebrow – which was the equivalent to a gasp.
Duchess went very, very still.
West carefully lowered Rose back down so she was standing in front of him, then he slid his arms possessively around her and drew her against him. Then one by one he met the gazes of the others, Duchess last.
“Yes,” West said. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”
“Holy shit,” Nora muttered.
Rhys said nothing.
“I guess it’s too late for the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ thing?” Duchess’s voice was distinctly frosty, her gaze frostier still.
He’d known she wouldn’t be pleased, and so had Rose. But they’d decided to do it without telling anyone anyway. It was wild and crazy and who got married after getting together on a two night, three day road trip?
Turned out they did.
He’d sent texts to both Carly and his father announcing it, and had been surprised when both of them had texted back. Not much, it was true, but even the terse ‘congratulations’ from his dad and a ‘that’s great’ from Carly had been something. West had then followed it up with a ‘let me know if you need anything’ text, that neither of them had replied to, but that he was okay with. He’d made the offer and that was all he could do. It was up to them to take up that offer if they wanted to, and he decided he wouldn’t be angry if they didn’t.
There was a lot of things he wasn’t going to get angry about any more. Including Duchess’s opinions on his marriage to Rose.
In fact, the only person whose opinion he respected on the whole ‘getting married in Vegas’ question was Rose. And since she was into it, that’s what they’d done. It was probably the best decision he’d ever made in his life.
“Oh, Lil.” Rose gently pushed aside West’s restraining arms and he let her go. Watching as she crossed the room in her white lace minidress, her golden curls gleaming, still holding the posy of white roses he’d given her to carry and which had remained uncrushed the whole helicopter flight back to Austin.
Rose stopped in front of the desk, staring at her sister. “You’re probably going to tell me I’m far too young to get married and that I have no idea what I’m doing. Am I right?”
Duchess’s mouth tightened. “You’re an idiot.”
“No.” Rose smiled. “I’m just in love.”
Her sister sniffed. “I rest my case.”
Rose shook her head and glanced over her shoulder back at him, their eyes meeting. And he knew exactly what was going through her head. Duchess wouldn’t understand any of this, because Duchess didn’t believe in love. And both he and Rose knew why.
But there was nothing they could do about that. Du
chess would just have to deal with it.
Rose looked back at her sister. “Can you at least say congratulations?”
“For what?” Duchess’s expression was severe. “For making a stupid decision? Sure, congratulations on that.”
For a moment there was silence and then quite suddenly Rose tossed her bouquet at her sister. And Duchess automatically caught it.
Rose grinned. “Keep hold of that, Lil. Maybe one day you’ll be an idiot, too.” Then she turned around and walked back to him, leaving her sister staring down at the wedding bouquet she’d just inadvertently caught.
West slid an arm around Rose’s waist, pulling her in close, searching her face for any signs of disappointment in her sister’s response. “She’ll come around,” he murmured. “You know she will.”
But Rose’s eyes were clear. “I know.” A hint of a knowing smile curved her mouth. “I have hopes.”
He wanted to ask her what those hopes were, but now wasn’t the time for that conversation and besides, there were other more important things to do. Such as flying straight back to Vegas for a couple of nights in Caesar’s honeymoon suite.
“Hey, you two.” Nora was coming toward them. “You can’t just drop the wedding bomb and then leave. What about a celebration?”
“I’ll buy the drinks,” Rhys said, following on Nora’s heels. “Vivi will want to come, too.”
“Smith likes a party,” Nora added. “He’ll want to help celebrate. In fact, let’s go out to our place. There’s lots of room.”
West gathered Rose close and glanced down at her. “What do you think?”
Her blue eyes sparkled. “Are you desperate for that wedding night?”
“What do you think?” Stupid question. Of course, he was.
“We can wait a little while, can’t we? I mean, we do need to celebrate, right?”
“Damn right you do,” Nora muttered, her phone already stuck to her ear. “Smith says to come. He’ll do barbecue.”
West had never liked saying no to a woman, but he had a feeling saying no to Rose was going to be next to impossible. Especially when she looked at him with her heart in her big blue eyes.
So, he grinned. “Anything you say, darlin’.”
Excerpt from Black Sheep Bounty Hunter (Texas Bounty #6)
Chapter 1
* * *
Quinn Redmond was pissy about a lot of stuff, and he was pissy a lot of the time. But what made him even pissier than normal was being woken in the middle of the night by a loud and insistent banging on the front door of the decommissioned hotel he lived in, that also housed the offices of Lone Star Bounty, the fugitive recovery business he owned with his two brothers.
He was half inclined to pretend he’d dreamed the sound and ignore it, but given the loudness and insistence of the banging, and the fact that he was on the floor above and could still hear it, whoever it was really needed to get in.
So, only partially awake and approximately two thousand times grumpier than normal, he grabbed the Colt he kept in case of emergencies in his nightstand, then hauled his sorry ass downstairs.
Whoever was beating his door down would be lucky if they didn’t escape with a bullet in their butt.
The doors were glass, but it was raining and the streetlight directly opposite the hotel was on the fritz, and it was black as pitch, making it impossible to discern much except the outline of a small figure.
What the fuck? Was it a kid? Or a really small guy?
Quinn scowled and unlocked the doors, jerking one open.
Then he scowled even harder as he found himself staring into the sky blue eyes of a very particular woman.
A woman who’d been featuring in his dreams nightly, most often naked and definitely screaming his name, and whom he both wanted and hated in equal measure ever since he’d met her.
Lily Hammond, AKA Duchess, and owner of rival business, Duchess Bail Bonds.
Not that she’d done much to make him hate her except sashay around in pencil skirts that outlined her ass to perfection, as well as the kind of delicate little blouses that begged to have the buttons ripped off them. Her platinum blonde hair was always drawn up into a neat, but elegant twist, and her makeup perfect, like she’d just stepped out of a beauty salon or out of the pages of some fancy fashion magazine. Practically screaming to be mussed up and messed with. But, maybe that was just him.
Whatever, he certainly hated that she used her undeniable sex appeal to bait him. Constantly. He’d never been a guy who let himself be led around by his dick and the fact that Duchess seemed to be able to affect him so badly was galling. However, that he could have handled.
What he could not handle was how she seemed hellbent on stealing all his business.
Though, that wasn’t the thing on his mind right now, because Duchess was standing on his doorstep, sans pencil skirt, blouse and chignon, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, both of which were very wet, her white-blond hair plastered to her delicate skull. And she didn’t look so much like the steely, perfectly put-together owner of a bounty hunting business as she did a small, half-drowned kitten.
He might have found that satisfying if he hadn’t been so taken aback by the fact that she was here at one in the morning, looking like she’d swum all the way from her apartment.
Still unreasonably pissed at being woken, Quinn leaned a forearm against the door frame, making no move to let her in. “Well, well, well,” he murmured. “I would say look what the cat dragged in, but you don’t look like something the cat would bother with.”
As per usual, she gave him nothing back but a faint, if rather patronizing smile. “Quinn.” Her voice was cool, as if she was still in her pencil skirted armor, and not in wet jeans and a tee. “Sorry to wake you.”
“If you were sorry you wouldn’t be here, waking me.” He let his gaze rove over her undeniably lovely face, noticing a few things he hadn’t seen before. That although those sky blue eyes betrayed absolutely nothing, there were dark smudges beneath them, and there was a strained look to her mouth. She was very pale, too, much paler than normal. And not forgetting the small fact that it was the middle of the night and she was here, looking like…well, not her normal self.
“But you are here and you woke me,” he went on. “So, what the hell is going on?”
“Can I come in, please? It’s raining and I’d prefer not to tell you while standing on the street.” She didn’t exactly look behind her, but there was a certain tension to her posture that put Quinn instantly on edge.
He flicked his attention to the darkness of the street at her back just in case, yet nothing was there but rain.
Something was up. Her shoulders were lifted, her jaw tight, and at last he spotted something flickering through those lovely eyes of hers. It looked like…fear.
Okay, he might be a grumpy douchebag and really fucking pissed at being woken at one in the morning by a woman he hadn’t been able to get out of his head for months, a woman he did not under any circumstances want to get involved with, but he wasn’t that much of an asshole that he’d shut the door in her face.
Especially if that really was fear in her eyes. Because fundamentally if a woman wanted his help, he gave it to her.
Pushing away from the door, he stood aside without a word.
Duchess gave him a polite smile and moved past him, looping a length of sodden hair behind her ear. Her hand shook, the tiniest tremor. But he noticed. He noticed a lot of stuff about Lily Hammond, pretty much whether he wanted to or not.
Such as the fact that she was a formidable rival, having fully taken half the jobs his own company should have had and fighting him tooth and nail for the rest.
Admittedly, they’d shared a couple of jobs, given each other a bit of help now and then since Quinn had taken over Lone Star after his father’s death. But Duchess was the consummate businesswoman. Nothing came for free and everything had a price
He respected that. He respected the fact that she was a woman in a tough, male
dominated industry and was in the process of making a name for herself. He respected the fact that she took absolutely no shit from anyone, managed a bunch of hard bastards without breaking a sweat, and all the while looking like she should have a corner office in Manhattan, not a suite of rooms in a featureless building in downtown Austin.
She had a backbone of pure titanium that was for sure and it irritated the shit out of him, though he wasn’t clear as to why, since it was obvious that the last thing Lily Hammond needed was someone to look after her.
Not that he wanted to look after her. He just wanted to fuck her, a highly annoying and inconvenient fact.
But all that aside, what the hell would make the formidable Duchess’s hand shake?
He frowned, gave one last scan of the sidewalk outside then shut the door firmly behind her, noticing the way the tension in her shoulders eased as soon as soon as he did so.
“It’s okay,” he said, automatically going for reassurance. “You’re safe in here.”
Instantly Duchess stiffened as if he’d personally insulted her, her gaze turning icy. “What? You think I’m afraid? Please, Quinn.” Reaching behind her, she brought out a compact, elegant little Sig Sauer 9mm, holding it in an undeniably professional grip. “I know how to protect myself.”
It was not unexpected. Duchess might look like a delicate china shepherdess, but delicate china shepherdesses did not usually carry semi-automatics behind their backs.
Still…
“Your hand was shaking.” He wasn’t sure why he wanted to push this, but then again, there was a lot about his responses to Duchess that he couldn’t explain. Such as this quite frankly annoying protective instinct. “And baby, it’s not exactly winter there.”
Her gaze narrowed at the use of the endearment, which he found satisfying and probably worth saying again purely for the irritation factor. “I am not now, nor have I ever been, your baby, Quinn Redmond.” Putting away the Sig with exaggerated care, she turned in the direction of the ex-hotel’s bar. “Let’s talk.”
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