Cowboys Last All Night

by Jennifer Ashley

  Instead of blowing her off or growing insulted, Adam had grabbed on to the line she’d thrown him. Sure, he’d said, as though it were unimportant. Doing anything right now?

  And took her home with him. They’d sat on the porch of his mom’s house and opened the books. Bailey had come over every day after that, patiently teaching Adam math, and then English and history and anything else he’d struggled with.

  Adam remembered the day the numbers in the math equations had stopped dancing around and settled down into something he understood. He’d jumped up, euphoria flooding him, enlightenment in his grasp. He’d wanted to shout and punch the air, but instead he’d grabbed Bailey and kissed her.

  And his eyes had been opened. He’d kissed her thoroughly, there on the porch where they’d been alone, pressing her against a post, his hands on her waist, then her back, and finally, her breasts. Her first kiss, he could tell, but her enthusiasm for it was better than cool experience.

  The next day, when the family went out, leaving Adam behind to study, he’d sneaked Bailey into his bedroom. He remembered uncovering her layer by layer—lush breasts, lickable legs, sexy ass, her warm smile lighting her eyes.

  It hadn’t been his first time—Adam had lost his virginity at fourteen with an ardent sixteen-year-old cheerleader from a rival school—but his first time with Bailey had been seared upon his brain, never to be forgotten.

  He’d touched her, kissed her body, brought her to her first pleasure with his hands. Then, when she was open with the shock of her first orgasm, he’d slipped inside. Beautiful, tight Bailey had closed around him, embracing him with her arms and her body.

  That had been the first encounter in their short but intense affair—every day they’d managed to find a place to be together, to make love, to lie afterward in the sunshine, and talk and laugh. Bailey could laugh about anything.

  Adam was later surprised he’d found time to graduate with all the sex going on, but he’d made it, and Bailey had gotten him there. Her smile as he’d walked up to receive his diploma had bolstered him more than the piece of paper the principal had slapped into his hand.

  The memories had been burned onto Adam’s body, and now, at Bailey’s touch, at her words of concern, he remembered every moment.

  Adam’s heart constricted into a tight knot and hurt like hell when it expanded again.

  “I’m fine,” Adam snapped, jerking himself back to reality. “My damn leg just seizes up.”

  A stronger grip landed on his shoulders. Bailey’s touch fell away as Kyle lifted Adam to his feet. Kyle stepped back immediately, which was a good thing, because Adam felt his fist balling.

  “It sucks,” Kyle said. “Took me forever to get over a broken foot and ribs after a bull crushed me in the chute. Go ahead and take another shot.”

  “Screw that,” Adam growled. “I don’t need a pity do-over. You go for it. It won’t help you.”

  Kyle gave him a I’ll-make-you-eat-those-words glance, and moved to the table. Adam looked on the floor for his cue, but it was gone.

  Bailey had it. She handed it to him without words, compassion and understanding in her eyes.

  Something lodged in Adam’s throat. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t apologize for snarling at her. Bailey stood beside him, regardless of his temper, as though ready to catch him if he fell again.

  Kyle had better hurry and win the stupid game. Adam had to get out of here before he did something dumb-ass like grab Bailey and drag her off to have his way with her in a corner. He could barely move, and he’d only end up making a fool of himself. Kyle was right about one thing. This well and truly sucked.

  Adam ended up winning the game. Kyle was down to his last ball, then he tried to bank the cue ball into the last striped ball on the table. His aim was off a hair, and the target ball bounced away from the pocket, to the groans of the crowd that had gathered.

  Adam stepped up, sank the last solid balls, and slammed the black eight ball into the corner pocket. The crowd cheered and broke up, and Kyle shrugged with an oh-well look.

  “Pay up outside,” Adam said. Christina would throw them out if she saw them blatantly exchanging money. Her uncle’s bar wasn’t a casino, she’d say.

  Kyle nodded and extended his hand. “Good game.”

  Adam clasped it, making his grip as strong as Kyle’s. Kyle increased the pressure. So did Adam. They’d shaken like this many times.

  “Yeah, good game,” Adam said.

  They finally broke the clasp when both their hands were in danger of breaking. Kyle shot Adam a grin, in no way worried about the loss.

  Of course not. Kyle got to walk away with his arm around Bailey’s shoulders. She looked back at Adam and gave him a warm smile.

  Kicked him right in the gut.

  **

  The next morning, Sunday, Bailey went to church, then ended up at Christina’s house for the afternoon. Christina had worked late the night before, closing the bar, and she was just rising when Bailey arrived. Bailey had a key to Christina’s place, so she let herself in—first checking whether Ray Malory’s truck was parked in front.

  It wasn’t, so Bailey went inside to hear Christina’s shower running. She poured herself an iced tea and settled down on the sofa to wait and think about Adam, warm under her arm when she’d tried to help him from the pool table. He’d been angry and lashed out, but she couldn’t blame him. He was used to being strong, and weakness in himself made him furious.

  She’d been distracted the rest of the night and had decided to go home early. Kyle had seen nothing amiss, and had dropped her off at home, only saying good night when she didn’t ask him to stay.

  The shower went off. After a few minutes, Christina wandered out in shorts and tank top, plopping onto a chair and dangling her legs over its arm.

  “I always think better when my legs are shaved.” Christina pointed the toes of one foot to the ceiling and ran her fingers along her calf.

  Bailey grinned at her sister. “You mean they weren’t shaved for Ray last night?”

  Christina shook her head. “We didn’t go out. He’s taking me to dinner tonight. When I’m that tired after I close I don’t want to do anything but sleep. By myself, I mean. I might snore. Or drool.”

  Bailey settled back on the sofa and sipped her tea. Since she’d moved home from Austin, she and Christina had spent their Sundays together. Their parents had moved when her father had taken a job in San Antonio a few years back, but Christina had remained in Riverbend, and Bailey had been drawn back here when she thought of home. They’d never talked about why, but maybe it was time.

  “Seriously, Christina, what happened between you and Grant?” Bailey asked. “You two were fused. I come back here and find you broken up, and you never told me why, not in any detail. I didn’t want to pry, considering what happened to me—I sure as hell got sick of people asking me if I was all right. But really—what happened?”

  Christina lost her dreamy look and pain flashed through her eyes. “It’s complicated.”

  “Not good enough. I’m your little sister. That means you’re obligated to tell me everything.”

  Christina swung her legs down and sat up straight. Her eyes still held pain, but also fiery determination. “All right,” she said. “I’ll give you the whole deal. But not for free. When I’m done, you’re going to tell me all about what’s going on with you and Adam.”

  Chapter Seven

  Bailey’s face went hot. “What do you mean, with me and Adam? There’s nothing going on. At all.”

  Christina’s brown eyes sparkled. “Oh, right. Sweetie, last night, when Adam saw you with Kyle, he looked like he wanted to murder everyone in the bar, starting with Kyle. He was furious. At first, I thought he was mad at me for going out with Ray, but I was totally wrong.” Her smile widened. “Come on. What happened?”

  “Nothing.” Bailey knew her cheeks must be bright red—she’d never been able to hide a blush—and she struggled for words. “Adam doesn’t want anyt
hing to do with me. He’s pissed off because I’m learning to stunt ride, which is totally understandable. He got hurt, and his friend died. He should be pissed off. He yelled at me about it, and hasn’t spoken to me since. And Kyle is … nice.” Not demanding. Not intense. A relief.

  Christina burst out laughing. “If Kyle Malory heard himself called nice, he’d shit a brick. Kyle’s a bad boy. So is Adam. I’m sensing a pattern here.”

  “Yeah, well, I married a respectable guy, didn’t I?” Bailey said darkly. “He graduated at the top of his class, got an advanced degree, went to work every day, and church on Sunday. And he turned out to be a total bastard. Never trust a guy who spends more money on a tie than most people spend on food for a week. I thought he was being sweet to me, telling me to invite my girlfriend over more often, letting her hang out with us. He must have been laughing about how stupid I was. That’s not something you get over very fast. I’m not ready for another relationship—with anyone.”

  Christina had risen during this diatribe, and now she thrust a champagne flute into Bailey’s hand, filled with bubbling orange juice.

  “You look like you could use a mimosa. It’s Sunday. We’ll call it brunch.”

  Bailey didn’t usually enjoy sweet drinks, but this morning, she gripped the flute in tight fingers and took a long swallow. Anyway, orange juice had so much vitamin C.

  Christina sat down again with a glass of iced tea. Christina didn’t drink, saying she’d tended bar long enough to see what heavy drinking did to people. She wasn’t afraid to cut off patrons in the bar, no matter how angry they became. She knew everyone in town, and one threat to call the angry person’s mom usually calmed them down enough for their friends to get them home.

  “Listen, honey,” Christina said. “What your ex did was a dirty, rotten trick. I bet he didn’t think you were stupid at all—he was just relieved he got away with it as long as he did. You caught him and exposed him for what he really was—a cheater and a liar. I know you feel burned and hurt, and you should. But you’re not in the wrong here—you never were. You’re home now, and all our sympathies are with you.”

  Bailey didn’t say anything for a time, though she warmed at Christina’s words. Two years had passed since the awful day she’d found Lawrence in bed with the woman she’d known since they’d been roommates in college, the woman who’d taught Bailey how to dress and do her hair and leave her mousy high-school look behind.

  Bailey had walked out and found a lawyer that day—no hesitation, or she might have chickened out, forgiven Lawrence, and let herself be walked on as usual.

  Legal proceedings had taken time, especially since Lawrence had tried to fight it, but eventually, Bailey had a document that said she was free of her marriage. She’d returned to Riverbend to lick her wounds, and only when she’d taken up riding with the Campbell brothers had she climbed out of the pit of gloom her life had become. Now she woke each morning looking forward to the day instead of dreading it.

  Watching Adam walk back into her life—even on crutches—had woken her up even more. Her decade in Austin was becoming a passing event, an aberrant blip, while this life was real.

  “Now,” Christina went on. “I’m going to tell you that the Campbells aren’t like that at all. They might be bad boys, and they might love the ladies, but they’re not cheating bastards. You get what you get, nothing hidden.”

  Bailey took another sip of the mimosa, bubbles dancing on her tongue. “If that’s true, why aren’t you still with Grant?”

  Christina lost her wise older sister look and slumped back in her chair. “It really was complicated, Bailey. Not just one thing. Everyone in town thinks I got mad because of all the buckle bunnies chasing him, but it wasn’t that. Grant doesn’t care about groupies. But it … ” She paused, closing her eyes, true pain on her face. “It’s hard to put into words.”

  “Hey,” Bailey said, her heart squeezing. “If you don’t want to talk about it, don’t. But like you said to me, you have all my sympathy. Grant doesn’t know what he’s throwing away.”

  “No, don’t blame him.” Christina opened her eyes, tears in them. “It’s not his fault, not entirely. We lived together for five years. We talked about getting married—Grant wanted to. But he wants kids. A big family. So do I—I love kids. But in five years, none came along.” She gave Bailey a wan smile. “Believe me, we tried. Every day. No one can say we held back in the sack. We never used any kind of birth control, and the sex was … well, it’s Grant. Mind-blowing, every single time. But, no matter what we did, I never got pregnant. We went to doctors who said there was nothing wrong with either of us. But we each blamed ourselves, beating ourselves up about it, and then we started blaming each other. Then we were fighting about everything we could think of. After a while we were unhappy when we were together and super-tense when we were apart. Finally, we decided we should let each other go. He said it first, but I’d been thinking it. We were stopping each other from getting on with our lives. It was a relief.”

  The last word was choked out, her voice clogged with tears. Christina quickly set down her iced tea and put her hand over her eyes.

  Bailey was at her side in an instant, gathering her sister into her arms. “I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.”

  Christina buried her face in Bailey’s shoulder and continued to cry, hard, as though she hadn’t been able to release her pain until now.

  Bailey held her, her heart aching for her sister. She’d been aware that Christina was unhappy, but she hadn’t known the extent of her grief. The Campbell boys had seriously gotten under the Farrell girls’ skins.

  After a while, Christina’s sobs quieted, but she kept her head on Bailey’s shoulder as she wiped her eyes. “Don’t let things go wrong between you and Adam. Promise me, okay?”

  “There aren’t any things between me and Adam,” Bailey said quickly. “If he was mad last night because I was with Kyle, it’s because he and Kyle have always had it in for each other. If one of them has something, the other wants it. That’s all.”

  Christina’s eyes were still wet, but her smile broke through. “You are so dreaming. Adam has a jones for you. He did before he left home, and it’s still there.”

  “Sure, that’s why he walks out of a room when I walk in, and hightails it down the road whenever I go to the ranch to work.”

  “Give him a break. He’s hurting, and he’s probably touchy about the way he looks now. I bet he doesn’t want you to see him beaten-down. Adam’s like that.”

  Bailey had to concede that Adam was self-conscious, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d been gun-shy when she’d first returned to Riverbend, wanting to hide from the world for a while. And she hadn’t been burned on half her body, hobbling on crutches.

  “You’re saying I shouldn’t let him walk away,” Bailey said. “That I should chase his face?”

  Christina sat up, shrugging as she reached for her iced tea. “Worked the first time, didn’t it?”

  Bailey blinked. “Wait. Are you saying I chased him before? I did not.”

  “Oh, come on. You followed him around since you were in grade school. Talked about him constantly too. It was cute, your crush on him.” Christina grinned, though tears lingered on her face.

  Bailey returned to blushing furiously. “I swear, Christina, you are— you’re—”

  “Right, and you know it.” Christina chuckled. “Tell Kyle you just want to be friends and see what Adam has to offer.” She lost her smile. “Seriously, Bailey. Don’t let a chance of happiness go. It might not work out, but if you don’t try, you’ll never know, will you?”

  Bailey said nothing as she finished her mimosa. The way her entire body flared to life whenever she saw Adam told her that Christina spoke the truth.

  What they’d started all those years ago hadn’t ever finished. She and Adam had hugged, said good-bye, and pretended it was better that they parted friends and didn’t wait for each other. But it had mattered. Maybe Bailey wouldn’t have bee
n blinded to Lawrence’s shortcomings if she hadn’t been trying so hard to forget about Adam.

  Christina was right. What the hell? If Bailey talked to Adam, told him how she felt, and not let him simply disappear back into his movie life, what was the worst that could happen?

  Except her walking away from a job she loved because it would be too awkward with him there, or her heart shattering into pieces when he left for California again.

  Sure. No downside at all.

  Bailey chased the last drop of mimosa out of the glass and stared morosely at the empty flute.

  **

  “What the fuck? What the total fuck?”

  Adam glared down at the letter, pages and pages of it, but the first couple of paragraphs gave him the gist.

  He was being sued for his part in the accident that had lost Dawson his life.

  “Son of a fucking bitch!”

  “Hey,” a soft voice said. “You all right?”

  Perfect. “Bailey. Now is not a good time.”

  Bailey remained in the outline of the open front door, holding the screen door as she peered inside.

  No one else was around. Olivia had gone down to the barn with Tyler and Grant, Ross was at work, and Carter was off doing whatever the hell he was off doing.

  Monday afternoon warmth poured in through the door as Adam stood with the mail he’d just opened. Special delivery—he’d had to sign for it, which he had without thinking anything about it.

  “What’s wrong?” Bailey took a step inside, releasing the screen door, which banged closed behind her.

  “Nothing—just …”

  He couldn’t stay calm, couldn’t talk. Adam bent the papers in his clenching fists, then hurled them away from him. The sheaf hit the floor and the pages scattered across the carpet.

  “Damn, damn, damn it …”

  He tried to stride off as he’d always done when he lost his temper, taking him away from others so they wouldn’t come under fire of his raw anger.

  This time, Adam stepped wrong on his still-healing leg, twisted it, and went down. “Fucking hell!” His teeth clenched, and he rocked in pain.