Red-Hot Texas Nights

by Kimberly Raye

  “I might not, right? I mean, it might be a good thing that I didn’t call her on account of I need some distance right now to get my head together. Do you know I almost asked her to come with me to Cheyenne after I dropped the L bomb? Seriously, how crazy is that?”

  Almost as crazy as Tyler thinking for even five seconds that it might not be so bad to wake up tomorrow, and the next day and the next, with Brandy Tucker curled up next to him.

  “I’m blowing this way out of the water, right?” Duff tossed him a questioning glance, his eyes bleary and red. “No way can I love this girl. I need to slow down, pull back.”

  Amen.

  “That’s it.” Duff downed the finger of whiskey left in his shot glass and slammed it down on the scarred wood. “Get me out of here. I need to sleep.”

  “Yeah,” said the bartender, who came up and reached for the empty bottle. “Get the both of you outta here. It’s closing time.”

  Tyler nodded, grabbed Duff by the arm, and hauled him to his feet. Hiking an arm around the cowboy’s waist, Tyler led Duff outside and hitched him up into the passenger seat of his pickup before slamming the door and rounding the truck.

  “Thanks, buddy,” Duff said as Tyler climbed behind the wheel. “Here,” Duff said, handing over his phone. “You take it. I don’t trust myself. I might get horny and call her up.” He slumped down into the seat, his head lolling against the headrest. “Who knows what I might say? Hell, the next time I see you, I might be engaged.” He shook his head again. “What was I thinking?”

  “You weren’t, but at least you came to your senses. You’re ending it now. No more leading her on.”

  “Damn straight. No lame excuses. No eating my words. Just a clean break. So what if she thinks I’m an asshole?”

  “Better to disappoint her now than do it later when she’s even more hooked on you.”

  “Yeah, more hooked,” Duff mumbled, closing his eyes. “That would be bad. Probably.”

  Tyler gunned the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of Rebel’s one and only motel. He hauled the man out and steered him toward his room. A few seconds later, he let Duff collapse on the bed while he turned to pull off the man’s boots.

  “Thanks, buddy,” Duff’s voice drew him back around. “You saved me. At the rate I was going, I might be married by now if you hadn’t shown up to talk some sense into me.”

  “That’s what friends are for. Now get some sleep.” He finished pulling off the boots, plopped Duff’s hat on the nearby dresser, and turned toward the door.

  “Maybe you ought to leave the phone.” Duff’s voice stopped his hand on the doorway. “I should at least leave a voice mail and tell her that something came up. I wouldn’t want her to think I’m a total jerk.”

  So much for breaking ties.

  But Tyler couldn’t say that he blamed his buddy. Great sex made even the strongest man do and say the craziest things.

  Tyler knew that firsthand.

  But he wasn’t making that mistake again.

  CHAPTER 19

  It was the longest morning of Brandy’s life. Not because the bakery was slow, though that in itself was torture to watch. But because she had three possible addresses for Ryder Jax and she couldn’t wait to do a little recon and narrow down his whereabouts.

  Once she knew the location and she’d checked it out to make sure she wasn’t liable to get her head blown off, then she would approach him and talk to him about running her shine.

  She thought about ducking away at lunch and leaving Ellie in charge of the minimal stream of customers, but the woman seemed more quiet than usual.

  Depressed even.

  “Don’t tell me things went sour with the new cowboy?”

  “No. Yes.” Ellie shook her head. “I mean, I guess it’s how you look at it. I think he likes me more than I like him and so I had to break it off because, you know, the last thing I want is to get involved with anyone. I like my freedom.”

  “You’re preaching to the choir.”

  “I mean, he really is cute and there’s just something about the way he looks at me that’s kind of cool. But not that cool. It would never work anyway. He’s not even from here. He’s just here until he heads up to Cheyenne. Which is why I hooked up with him in the first place, you know? He was new. Exciting. But most of all, no strings.”

  Yep, she was preaching to the choir, all right.

  “If I want some guy blubbering how much he loves me, I could just stick it out with Bart, you know?” She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  She said the words, but there was something about the distant look in her eyes that told Brandy she wasn’t nearly as sure as she wanted to be.

  And so Brandy dug in her heels for the rest of the day and did her best to distract her baking assistant. She went over a new recipe for s’mores cupcakes and showed Ellie how to whip up a rich frosting using fresh whipped cream and mascarpone cheese, and she helped her look for Miss Betty’s purse.

  It seemed the old woman had left it in the restroom on Sunday.

  “Thanks ever so much, dearie,” Betty told her when Brandy handed over the giant white patent-leather bag that had been sitting in the corner of the employee bathroom. “Why, I thought I’d lost it for good.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t find it sooner. I usually notice things like that.” But then she hadn’t been thinking straight the past few days since Tyler had rolled back into town. It made sense that she would have missed the giant purse when she closed up on Sunday night.

  “You’ve got your hands busy what with all these great muffins.” Betty held up the blueberry that Brandy had handed her after finding the missing purse. “Take care now, sugar. And thanks again.”

  Brandy watched as the woman walked out of the bakery and climbed into a small blue pickup truck driven by a young man in his twenties. Her grandson Mitchell, Brandy knew from seeing him with Betty at the last picnic. While Betty’s daughter and son-in-law didn’t get over to see her too often from Austin, her grandson lived nearby in the old house where Betty had grown up. He drove her around whenever she missed the bus and visited her every week.

  For a quick moment she found herself thinking how nice it would be to have a grandson to look out for her when she got older. But in order to have a grandson, she would have to have a daughter or son. And in order to do that, she’d have to find a husband.

  Not that she believed all women had to have a husband to settle down and have a family, but it was her own personal belief. What was right for her.

  If she’d wanted to settle down, which she most certainly did not. Even if it would be kind of nice to have a loving grandchild drive her around in her old age.

  She gave the idea thought for a few more seconds, until Betty’s grandson swerved out into traffic without signaling and a loud honk shattered the air. Mitchell hung his head out the window, shouted a few choice obscenities before giving the ultimate salute, and the image of the kind, loving, helpful offspring was shattered.

  Okay, so maybe not settling down wasn’t such a bad thing.

  She held tight to the thought and finished closing down the display cases before heading into the back room and packing up. She had more brownies for Kenny Roy and another two dozen for Ivy. Once she dropped both off, she was hitting the road to check out the addresses.

  At least that was the plan.

  She gathered up her purse and bakery boxes. Her free hand went to the lights. She’d just plunged the back room into darkness when she heard Tyler McCall’s deep voice directly behind her.

  “What a shame, darlin’. You know how much I like it with the lights on.”

  Her breath caught and she felt his body so close behind hers. Close enough that all she had to do was lean back just a little. Turn. Kiss him for all she was worth.

  Fast and furious.

  Sex, and nothing but sex.

  Before she could think too much about what she was doing—o
r rather, what she wasn’t doing—she flipped the lights back on. The shadows disappeared and she turned.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d stop by to see if Kenny Roy called you?”

  “Did he call you?”

  He shook his head. “Cooper’s still out of town. At least that’s what most everybody is saying. Anybody who’s seen him with Gator Hallsey, that is. What about you? Did Kenny Roy call?”

  “No.” Not that she’d waited for him to call. “I didn’t give him a chance. I stopped by his place and he gave me a name.”

  “Seriously?” He eyed her a long second before adding, “Just like that?”

  “Well, I did sort of have to promise him something.” A strange look came over his face and she had the crazy thought that he was jealous.

  A strange warmth spread through her, and she had the even crazier thought that she liked the fact that he looked ready to murder someone on her behalf. She enjoyed the sight for a few more moments before giving in to her conscience. “Brownies,” she blurted. “And some muffins, too.”

  “Kenny Roy does like to eat,” he said after a long moment, and the tension between them eased just a little. “So who’s the connection?”

  “Ryder Jax.” When his gaze narrowed ever so slightly, she added, “Do you know him?”

  “I know of him. He’s partners with Gator Hallsey.” She nodded and he added, “I’ve been asking around about Gator ever since Kenny mentioned him. He’s a bad guy, so I’m guessing Ryder isn’t much better.” His gaze caught and held hers. “You’re not going to track him down on your own, are you?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. In fact, I was headed out to do just that. I Googled him last night and came up with three possible addresses. One of them has to be right.”

  “Let’s go then.”

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

  “Actually, I think it’s a great idea. I’m out of leads. Maybe Ryder can shed a little more light on the Cooper–Gator connection.”

  “So this offer to come with me is strictly self-serving?”

  “Why else would I want to go?”

  Because he was worried about her running off after a bad guy all by her lonesome. Because he cared.

  She ditched the thought and held tight to the all-important fact that while she might be excited to track down Ryder, she wasn’t stupid, either. It was better to have reinforcements.

  She certainly didn’t say yes because, in all honesty, she’d missed him.

  The sex, she reminded herself. She’d missed the sex and maybe they could get back to it after they found Ryder’s whereabouts.

  In the meantime, she wasn’t getting all chummy. No talking and cozying up on the way.

  “Suit yourself,” she murmured, summoning her most disinterested shrug.

  “Oh, I will, darlin’. I most definitely will.”

  CHAPTER 20

  He wasn’t going to talk to her. That’s what Tyler told himself as he climbed into his truck and glanced at the passenger seat where she’d already settled in.

  No talking.

  No glancing at her, watching her worry her bottom lip.

  No wondering what she was thinking when she caught the plump fullness and stared mindlessly through the windshield.

  “This recipe really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?” The question was out before he could stop himself.

  She didn’t look as if she wanted to answer any more than he’d wanted to ask, but then she shrugged. “It’s everything. The bakery is barely scraping by right now. Another month like this last one, and we’ll be losing money. I have to make sure that doesn’t happen. That means I need another source of income to expand so that we’re not just competing with a doughnut shop. We need to be a go-to cake venue for everyone in the Hill Country. That won’t happen without another oven and another specialty decorator. And neither of those will happen if I don’t run this mash and present a product to Foggy Bottom Distillers by Friday.”

  “That’s four days away.”

  “Which is why I couldn’t wait around for Kenny Roy. At least you’ve got a few extra days to play with. I’m down to the wire. My mash is just about ready to go. Then I’ll have less than twenty-four hours to run it before it sours. That means I need to talk to someone now.”

  “I’m sure Ryder Jax can hook you up. The question is—will he?”

  “I’ll bribe him if I have to.” She glanced out the window, her brow furrowing. “Let’s hope he likes brownies.”

  “There isn’t a man out there who can resist your brownies, sugar.”

  She slid a glance toward him, a grin tugging at her lips and easing the worried expression. “Why is it I get the feeling you’re not talking about an actual baked good?”

  “Oh, it’s good, all right.”

  “You’re a horn dog.”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “I’ll just bet.” Quiet settled between them for a few moments, but it was an easy silence. Her worry had faded and she seemed to have relaxed just a little. “You still haven’t heard from your brother?” she finally asked as if the easy silence bothered her as much as the uneasy silence had bothered him.

  “Not yet. Kenny said he might be back today, but I’ve got a few people at the local bars—the usual haunts—keeping a lookout for him. So far, nothing. It’s looking more like tomorrow. If he even shows up at all.”

  “You really think he might have taken off for good?”

  “Not so much as I’m thinking he might have gotten himself into some deep trouble. More than he can handle. These dudes … They’re no good.”

  “Still, folks have seen them together. It seems stupid for anyone to hurt him when they’d more than likely be the most obvious suspect.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to make me feel better.”

  “Maybe I’m just returning the favor. So how’s your mom?”

  They spent the rest of the drive talking about the falling-down porch he’d reframed just that morning and about the woman who seemed oblivious to anything but her spiked coffee.

  “It had to be hard for her, growing up with so much and then having it all taken away when she married your dad.”

  “True. My grandparents hated my dad.” To the point that they’d disowned not only their daughter for marrying poorly, but her offspring, as well. They’d gone to their grave hating their daughter and her two mistakes. “But she made that choice willingly.”

  Because that’s what it was—a choice. His mother hadn’t had to fall in love with his dad. She’d made her choice, and then she’d blamed the world for it.

  Not Tyler. He took responsibilities for his own actions, and he wasn’t making the same mistake. His mother couldn’t let go of the past even though the past had let go of her. Not Tyler. He was letting go. Getting away. Forgetting. Once and for all.

  But first he had to make sure that Cooper was okay.

  That, and finish the damn porch.

  “I hear Callie’s tying the knot,” he added, eager to change the subject.

  “Next month,” she said. “If she can make her mind up about a bridesmaid’s dress. I’ve got a fitting on Thursday, but so far there are over six possibilities and nothing for sure.”

  “Maybe she wants you to choose for yourself.”

  “If she wanted that, she wouldn’t have hooked me up with her photographer.”

  “Come again?”

  “Nothing. It’s just a lunch date that I got wrangled into because Callie wants perfect pictures and her top candidate wants me.” She shook her head. “You’d think after ten years, things would have changed.”

  “Are you kidding? Nothing changes in a small town,” he murmured, voicing the one fear that lived and breathed deep inside of him, that no matter how well he did, how much money he made, or how much fame he gained, he would still be that worthless Tyler McCall.

  “I don’t know about t
hat. I think people change. It’s perception that doesn’t change. And that doesn’t mean anything anyway. Who cares what someone else thinks?”

  “Sounds like you’ve forgiven all those boys for all that writing on the bathroom wall.”

  “Forgiven, yes. Forgotten, no. But no matter what they wrote, it didn’t make it true. It didn’t,” she said, more to convince herself than him.

  “Here,” he said, eager to change the subject. He handed over his cell. “Type the first address into my Google Maps and let’s see if we can find this guy.”

  * * *

  They didn’t find Ryder Jax.

  But they did find out where he was living. At least, according to the neighbor who happened to be watering her plants when they pulled up outside the small clapboard house that sat just beyond the interstate, about ten miles north.

  “You can try him back, but good luck with that. He keeps terrible hours. Nothing like his mommy or daddy, God rest both their souls. They would be beside themselves if they could see the way he’s let that house fall to ruin.” She pointed to the dried-up rosebushes that lined the front porch and the overgrown grass. “You’d think he could at least mow. Keep up the property values and all that, but no. Even flipped off Martin Jenkins—he’s the president of the neighborhood association—when he stopped by and kindly suggested it. Then he fined Ryder and the war started. The more notices he got, the higher he let the grass get until Martin got tired of looking like an ineffective idiot and cut it himself. At least that’s what folks are saying. Martin says he got tough with Ryder and convinced him to mow last month, but there ain’t a one of us alive who buys that nonsense. That Ryder is a stubborn one. But then so was his daddy. Mean, too, so it makes sense his boy would be just as bad. Runs in the family, it does…” Rose Hamper went on for the next five minutes about meanness and families and her own ungrateful children until Brandy interrupted her.

  “Brownie?”

  “Why, I don’t mind if I do.” She took the bakery box and opened the lid. Taking one goodie out, she started to hand it back, but Brandy waved her off.

  “You keep those. It’s the least I can do for putting you to so much trouble.”