by Lucy Gilmore
“Does Zeke know about this?” Adam asked.
“About the man? Yes. I wanted to warn him in case he started getting followed, too.”
“And he didn’t do anything to stop him?”
“Well, no.” A note of genuine curiosity crept into Dawn’s voice. “Why? Is that what you’re going to do?”
“Damn straight it is.” He unclipped his seat belt and stepped out of the car. “With any luck, he’ll see us and stop.”
The whir of traffic zooming by whipped up the air into a mix of hot asphalt and dirt, but Adam didn’t mind as much as he probably should have. He was far too busy trailing one hand on the car, following the line of it until he reached the trunk.
And then he leaned against it to wait.
It took Dawn only a few seconds to join him, the press of her body next to his giving the car a little push. “This is my fight as much as it is yours,” she said. “I hope you aren’t going to tell me to get back in the car.”
“I’m not. I could use the backup.”
“Oh. Okay. Good.” She paused a moment before giving him a traffic update. “There’s no sign of his truck yet, but there’s a good chance he’s broken down somewhere a few miles back. I wasn’t kidding about how easy it is to outrun him. Honestly, if you were planning on chasing a woman down, wouldn’t you get a tune-up first?”
Adam was forced into a laugh. “I’d like to think that any woman-chasing I did would be entirely consensual and occur either in a bar or a bed, but I guess I’m unusual in that regard.”
The shift of the car seemed to indicate that she’d turned to face him. It was a theory that held when it took her a good twenty seconds to respond. He could almost feel her nonstare.
When she finally spoke, her question took him aback. “Have you ever chased a woman, I wonder?”
Although it technically only required a simple yes or no, there were an awful lot of layers to unpack beneath a question like that one—far too many to discuss while standing on the side of a highway waiting to confront a gun-toting madman, at any rate. The truthful answer—no—wasn’t the whole picture. If he was being perfectly honest, he’d chase Dawn right now, pursuing her with every ounce of strength and determination he had, if he didn’t think it would be criminal to catch her.
Dawn Vasquez wasn’t a woman to be tied down. His favorite thing about her was how free she was, how unapologetic about everything she did. She was someone who wouldn’t blink at the thought of being chased by a man with a gun, who’d steal an abused puppy when it needed to be done, who’d tackle runaway cows and cranky old ladies and go home smiling each time. She’d been to extraordinary places, met extraordinary people, made extraordinary love.
In other words, she was worth chasing.
“I’ve always left the running to Zeke,” he said by way of answer. It wasn’t even close to what he wanted to say, but it had to be enough. There was nothing he could offer, no future the two of them shared, where her way of life wouldn’t have to be sacrificed for his.
That was one thing he could give her—the one thing he could never ask. The only way he’d be able to live with himself was if he refused to throw the rope that would catch her forever.
“Well, that’s probably for the best because there’s no running now,” Dawn said as tires screeched in the distance. They were followed by a waft of burned rubber and the rattle of an engine that definitely wasn’t running at its peak. “He’s here.”
Adam pushed himself off the trunk and did his best to look like a man who was accustomed to confronting bullies. Since he wasn’t, the best he could do was cross his arms and wait.
Dawn touched his shoulder. “It’s him all right, and he doesn’t look pleased to see me. I can’t see a gun, but that doesn’t mean he’s not packing.”
He nodded his thanks. “Noted.”
He waited only until he could smell the man drawing close. Unlike Dawn, this man’s scent was a definite presence, pungent and festering in damp bodily crevasses. “Hello, there,” he said in as pleasant a voice as he could muster. “Do I have the pleasure of addressing the previous owner of a certain golden retriever puppy?”
The polite address must have taken the man off guard because he offered a bewildered grunt before directing his attention toward Dawn. “I knew it was you. I been waiting for you. You’re that bitch who stole my—”
“Bitch?” Dawn suggested.
Adam had to choke back a laugh. This wasn’t supposed to be a comical confrontation, but Dawn never did anything according to script.
“Yes, this is Dawn,” Adam said before she could manage to derail him further. “She stole the animal at my request.”
A spit bubble of a whistle sounded from between the man’s lips. “Your what?”
“My request.” Adam untucked one of his hands and held it out. He wasn’t excited about making contact with a man who obviously hadn’t seen the soapy side of a shower in some time, but he was hoping to make this as painless as possible. “When she told me about the puppy’s condition, I had her bring the animal directly to me.”
The man didn’t take his hand, which Adam could only attribute to his bad manners. This theory bore out when the man said in a tone dripping with belligerence, “What the hell are you talking about? All I know is this bit…I mean, chick broke into my property and stole what’s mine.”
“Stole?” Adam echoed blankly.
“Yes. Stole. It’s trespassing, that’s what it is. Trespassing and robbery. I know my rights. I want my goddamned animal back.”
“Of course, of course. I was wondering why we hadn’t heard from you yet.” He turned in Dawn’s general direction. “Dawn, please tell me you informed this gentleman where he could collect the puppy.”
“Oh. Um.” Dawn paused only slightly before picking up on his intention—or at least the important parts of it. “I forgot?”
“Forgot!” Adam threw up his hands and sighed. “Forgot. I am so sorry, sir. She always seems to be forgetting something. She’s new. In fact, we only hired her on a trial basis. I’m afraid things aren’t looking good for her now.”
“Oh, please don’t fire me,” Dawn protested. The waver in her voice could have been taken as a piece of supreme acting, but Adam knew for a certainty that she was only quelling her laughter. “Not when I was finally starting to get the hang of things. I’ll do better next time. Honestly, I will. Right, Mr…? Um, well… You see, I think I forgot…”
Adam sighed and shook his head. “You don’t even remember his name, do you?”
“No.” Her voice took on a hangdog innocence. “But I’m sure it’s something nice.”
“My name is Murphy Jones, dammit, but I don’t see what that has to do with—”
“Oh, that is nice.”
There was such feminine sweetness to the way she spoke that Murphy cleared his throat and waited to see what else she might have to throw his way. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t Dawn pitching this bullshit. That privilege belonged to Adam.
“Well then, Mr. Jones. You have my sincerest apologies for the lack of communication, and you can trust that Dawn will be severely reprimanded for her error.”
“All I want is my goddamned—”
“Puppy back. Yes, I know. You’re more than welcome to come collect her at Dearborn Ranch, where she’s been receiving her rehabilitation.”
Dawn drew in a breath at Adam’s use of his actual home and business, but she didn’t say anything to ruin the game. If he ever took to a life of crime, she was the exact person he wanted at his side. Bold, brilliant, beautiful…
With a start, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. This wasn’t the time to extol Dawn’s less-than-moral virtues.
“Of course, given the misunderstanding, we’ll reduce our usual fees by ten percent,” he said smoothly. “That should represent a savings of… Ah, Dawn? I don’t suppos
e you have the total figure handy, do you?”
“Four thousand five hundred and sixty-four dollars,” she said with admirable promptness. “And fifty-six cents, but we can just drop that.”
Adam nodded. “There you go. Ten percent off will save you four hundred and fifty-six bucks. Not bad, considering the puppy’s state when she was brought in. The antibiotics alone set you back several thousand. Will that be cash or check?”
“Now, see here—”
“We also offer payment plans, but you’ll need to provide us with your social security number so we can do a credit check first.”
Adam felt Murphy draw close. It was a move designed to intimidate, he was sure, a puffed-up chest pressing near to his own, but Adam pretended not to notice.
“We also provide high-nutrient puppy food that you can purchase directly from us, or you can make your own arrangements with the feed store in town. Either way, we’ll need you to sign the contract stating your intentions to continue her care plan.”
“Antibiotics? Payment plan? Contract?” The man’s breath was warm and sour and filled with flecks of his spittle, but Adam didn’t back down. “I didn’t ask nobody for any of that.”
“You may not have, but my good friend Harold Jenkins at the County Sheriff’s Department did.” The game was up, Adam now determined to end this. As much fun as it was to taunt a man who clearly didn’t know a bluff when it stood up to him, making sure Dawn and Gigi were safe was the real focus here. “If you want your puppy back, you can either cover the full cost of her treatment, or you can take it up with him. Those are your options.”
“But I didn’t… You can’t do this—”
“I can and I have,” Adam said, his jaw tight. “I don’t have any cards on me, and we both know how useless my associate here is, but if you have a pen, you can take down my name and address for the payment. It’s Adam Dearborn of Dearborn Ranch. We’re located at—”
“I’m not giving you five thousand dollars for my own fucking dog!”
“You’re right. You aren’t. You’re going to turn around, get back in your truck, and drive back to whatever miserable hole it is you crawled out of.” He could feel Dawn straighten next to him, her stance echoing his own. “You won’t stalk this woman, and you won’t make any attempts to see or touch that puppy ever again. Men like you don’t deserve to be anywhere near animals. Or women, for that matter.”
“You fucking bastard. You have no idea who you’re dealing with, do you?” The spittle flew with renewed vigor, but Adam didn’t back down. He withdrew a handkerchief from his back pocket and carefully wiped his mouth instead.
“Yes, I do. I took your measure the second that puppy was placed in my arms. Anyone who treats a vulnerable animal like that is both a fool and a coward.” He allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. “The real question is, do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”
The answer to that was an obvious no. Murphy had clearly stepped out of his truck expecting to intimidate the pair of them, to leverage their fear into getting his own way. But that was his first mistake. Adam Dearborn wasn’t someone who intimidated easily.
Neither was Dawn Vasquez.
“I’m not really as dumb as I let on,” she said as if to prove it. “I know where you live, Murphy Jones. I know you carry illegal firearms. I know you haven’t paid your taxes in years, and we both know that Sheriff Jenkins would love any excuse he can find to haul you in.”
Murphy’s only response to that was a glib “fuck you.”
“No, my friend. Fuck you.” She touched Adam’s arm. “Come on, Adam. Let’s go. I don’t want to waste another minute of my life on this scumbag.”
He gave a curt nod and made a move to return to the passenger seat. He had no idea how much of what she’d just said was true, but she sounded convincing enough to him. It would take a much stronger man than he—and, he was guessing, Murphy Jones—to stand up to the fire in that woman’s voice.
But she wasn’t done. Before she made it very far, she halted and added, “Oh. And if I ever drive by your house to find another animal being abused, you’d better pray that I decide to call in the authorities rather than take matters into my own hands again.”
Murphy heaved an inarticulate grunt. “I ain’t scared of you.”
“You should be,” Dawn said simply. There was no sign of emotion in her voice, no tremor of nerves as she confronted a man who had to be at least twice her size. “I make a mean Molotov cocktail, and my aim is impeccable. Good day, Mr. Jones. I hope I never have cause to meet you again.”
There was nothing Adam could say or do to top that, so he didn’t even try. All he did was raise his hand in a cheerful farewell and slide back into the car. The sound of the truck roaring to life behind them was followed by a screech of tires and a honk of several horns as Murphy presumably pulled back onto the road.
Dawn wasn’t long in joining him. However, she didn’t, as he expected, get behind the wheel. No sooner did he register the passenger door being opened than he felt the warm press of her body pouncing onto his lap.
“What the—?” he began.
The door slammed shut, shaking the small car and trapping them both in place. With a finesse that had to be practiced, Dawn reached down and pulled the lever that moved the seat back as far as it could go. The extra legroom was nice, but it hardly mattered when she began ruthlessly kissing him.
Dawn was always a passionate woman, but the way her lips moved over his went beyond anything they’d shared before. She didn’t swoop in with her tongue, the way she did when it had been a long time since their last meeting. Nor did she nibble playfully at his lips, the way she preferred when trying to rouse him to action only minutes after he’d already climaxed. This was a soft, warm, heavy planting. Her lips pressed down on his as though she were breathing life into him—or possibly breathing life out of him. He couldn’t tell which, and to be perfectly honest, he didn’t care. If she was a succubus sent to destroy him, to pull the very air out of his lungs and the life out of his chest, then so be it.
Adam couldn’t think of a better way to go.
But she pulled back just as his senses were starting to grow dizzy, her hands pressed against his cheeks to hold him in place. He was pinned and trapped at every turn. She straddled him with thighs bare and hot from the summer sun, the full weight of her body on top of his. She was looking at him too, he knew. There was no other reason for her to hold him like that, so quiet and yet so alive. Her pulse thrummed against his leg, her breath coming hard and fast, her heat intoxicating.
But still she didn’t move.
“That was the single most erotic experience of my life,” she said. “I swear to God, if you so much as flicked my nipple right now, I’d come screaming on the spot.”
A devilish urge to test that theory took him by force, but Dawn had planned her ambush too well. He could barely even twitch his arm, let alone pull it out from under her.
“I had no idea you had a thing for stale tobacco and men who sweat whiskey,” he said, since words were the only tool she’d left him. “I’ll start my transformation immediately.”
The punishment for his insouciance was another one of those long, crushing, soul-searing kisses. She managed to slip a little tongue in this time, too—a slow, careful opening of her mouth against his. She was inviting him in, tantalizing him. Every part of her was hot and wet and somehow linked with the coiling, curling urgency that thrummed in his veins. He had no idea where she ended and he began.
Nor did he care. By the time the kiss was over, he knew down to his toes that if she so much as flicked his nipple, he’d come screaming on the spot.
“No man has ever done anything like that for me before,” she said. Her breath came short and panting, but she had yet to relinquish her hold on him in the slightest. “Stepping up. Stepping down.”
Maybe it was
because all the blood was leaving his brain, but that bit didn’t quite make sense. “Wait. Did I step up or down?”
“You did both, you idiot.”
“I did?”
“Yes, Adam. You did. You stepped up to protect me—and then stepped down to let me finish the job.”
Although there wasn’t much he could do to facilitate whatever sort of interlude was about to happen inside a hot, stuffy car on the side of a very public highway, Dawn was more than happy to pick up the slack. She thrust a hand between them, not stopping until she reached the fly of Adam’s jeans.
In her distraction, he got his own hands free. They gravitated naturally toward her hips, which were pressing against his with an urgency that neither one of them could deny. As usual, she was wearing a skirt that was far too short to make ranch work or puppy training reasonable. Her underwear was even less so. There was a bit of lace, a strap or two holding it on, and that was it. The rest was all glorious curves and smooth, hot skin.
He slid his fingers around until he was cupping her ass in two hands. It would have only taken a few small adjustments for Adam to remove his jeans and be inside her, but he held back. For one, he didn’t have any protection on him. For another, the car seemed an awfully public place for this. Sheriff Jenkins would have a field day.
“You did say these windows are tinted, right?” he asked as Dawn’s hand slid up and down the front of his fly. She had a knack for knowing just how to press her fingers to reduce him to nothing more than a pile of nerve endings. “Very dark?”
“Dark enough for me, anyway,” she said with a laugh. “I meant what I said, by the way. Thank you for rescuing me.”
A growl escaped Adam’s lips, but he wasn’t sure if it was the memory of Murphy Jones that elicited it, or if it was just that Dawn did that thing with her fingers again. Considering how good she felt in his hands, he assumed it had more to do with the latter.
“Thank you for rescuing Gigi,” he said. “You’re a good person, Dawn Vasquez. Probably the best one I know.”
“I’m not,” she said. “But thank you all the same.”