Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  She hurried to her room and stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind her. Without bothering to turn on the light, she kicked off her shoes, made her way to the bed and flopped down with a weary groan. Only her head hit something a lot more solid than her pillow.

  “Oomph.”

  With a shriek, Reggie shot back up and nearly fell off the bed.

  “Shh. My God, you’ll bring the whole house running.”

  Tripp’s low, irritated voice did nothing to ease her racing heartbeat. She clicked on the bedside lamp.

  “The whole house consists of Grandma Rosie, and she’s…”

  The words died on her lips at the sight of him in a tight white T-shirt, gray sweatpants, and bare feet, lounging on her bed as if it were his own.

  “She’s…?” Tripp prompted.

  Reggie brought her attention back to his face. Big mistake. With his rugged five-o’clock shadow and those piercing blue eyes, she had even more trouble pulling her thoughts together. She blinked to break the spell of his image.

  “She’s already sleeping. It’s been a long day.”

  A shadow crossed his face. “What took you so long, anyway? I’ve been waiting over an hour.”

  “I had a few things to take care of in the office, and I cleaned up the kitchen.”

  He shook his head, his expression skeptical. “See, now that doesn’t fit, either, Princess.”

  “What are you talking about? Doesn’t fit what?”

  “Your name.”

  Reggie’s overtaxed mind couldn’t keep up, and he looked entirely too good on her bed. A flash of peevishness made her swat at his feet. “Get off my bed, would you? And what does my name have to do with anything?”

  “Princesses don’t do dishes.” He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and stood in front of her.

  “First of all…” Damn, he’s tall. She didn’t remember him being so tall eleven years ago. She took a step back. “My name is not Princess.”

  “And second of all?”

  “Second of all, this is my room, so get out.”

  “Don’t kick me out before we get to the good stuff. I have a proposition for you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat and honest to God, she couldn’t help it—her gaze went straight to the bed. Just as fast, she snapped her attention back up to his face.

  “A what?”

  He lifted one nicely muscled shoulder in a careless gesture that didn’t fool her one bit when she considered the calculating gleam in his eyes.

  “Maybe competition is the better word.”

  “And what exactly would we be competing for?” she asked.

  “The ranch.”

  Reggie would’ve laughed, except he was dead serious. She crossed her arms. “What have you got in mind?”

  “Whoever catches Mason wins everything, simple as that. Loser leaves.”

  Her stomach heaved with a sickening lurch. So, this is why he agreed to the terms of the will. She knew he’d flipped to the other side too fast. But Ernesto hadn’t lied when he said she’d been trying to catch the stallion for years, though how the older man knew about it, she’d love to know. Still, no way did she want to go up against Tripp like this, not with the ranch at stake. Mason was smarter than any horse she’d known.

  Tripp stepped closer, crowding her personal space as he leaned in and taunted, “Afraid you can’t catch him?”

  “Of course not,” she lied.

  “But you’ve been trying for years.”

  She shrugged it off like it was no big deal. “I’ve made the occasional attempt, and nothing more than half-hearted.” She brushed past him. “You know, this is very intriguing, however the will states quite clearly we—”

  He caught her arm and swung her back to face him.

  “Did you ever tell my father what actually happened that day?”

  A punch to the stomach would’ve had less impact than his sudden question. She swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. Mutely, she shook her head, no. She’d been afraid Judd would hate her—afraid she’d see the same look on his face that she saw on Tripp’s now.

  He made a sound of disgust, releasing her arm and turning his back as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. His harsh laugh made her cringe.

  “Too little...way too late.”

  “If I could go back and change that day, I would, I swear.”

  He spun around so fast she took a quick step back.

  “So easy to say now, when he’s dead.” Pain darkened his eyes to a stormy sapphire blue. “You had a thousand chances over the past eleven years to change things with just a few words, but you were too worried about getting your money and a stake in the ranch to open your lying little mouth. And I’m supposed to believe you’ve changed?”

  She wanted to defend herself, but unfortunately, he was right. Not about the money, but she should’ve admitted the truth years ago. She was nothing but a coward. Guilt and shame made her want to crawl under the covers and never come out. To make it worse, tears stung her eyes. But she’d used tears against Tripp too many times, she wouldn’t cry in front of him again.

  All she could do was stare at the floor as she repeated, “I am truly sorry.”

  “Nothin’ but empty words, Princess. And right now, those aren’t good enough.”

  There was nothing else she could say; nothing he wouldn’t view as a waste of her breath.

  “So?” he prompted when she remained silent. “What’s it going to be?”

  Couldn’t he see if she accepted his challenge, they’d be reliving the past? Only this time the stakes were much higher. She started to point that out, but then paused. Maybe not. Back then, they’d competed for Judd’s love and she’d won. Now, they’d compete for his ranch. When she compared the two, she realized where the real value was, only she didn’t feel like a winner.

  The ranch was all she had. With Judd gone, it meant more to her than any amount of money he could have left her. Panic rose in her chest, and she clenched her hands at her sides. She could not lose it—would not lose it, damn it.

  But another competition against Tripp was not the answer. Though he clearly expected an answer, she turned her back to him. How was she supposed to come up with something to convince him they could not do this when his gaze bored into hers?

  After another moment she rationalized, if she caught Mason, it wouldn’t be like she was taking anything away from Tripp this time. It was his idea, and she’d win the ranch fair and square—

  No. What was she thinking? Besides the fact that she doubted she could catch Mason alone, the last thing she wanted to do was repeat the past. There had to be some other way to make it up to him. She gathered her whirling, ping-ponging thoughts and faced him again.

  “What about the money? I’ll buy your half of the ranch.”

  He started shaking his head before she even finished. “The money means nothing to me, and besides, the way I see it, you owe me.”

  There was no question what he meant.

  “You said earlier you didn’t want the ranch,” she reminded him desperately.

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “But the will said—”

  “Forget the will.” He stepped closer. “It’ll be just you and me out there, only this time I set the rules, not you. And no one else knows about this. You hear me?” He grasped her arms, pulled her toward him, and lowered his head until his cheek rested against hers and his lips brushed her ear. “Not Nana. Not Ernesto. No one but you and me.”

  Reggie’s lashes drifted low as his rough voice and warm breath sent a delicious shiver through her. She forced her eyes to open and her mouth to work. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”

  “Rule number one...”

  He paused, she heard him inhale, and his expanding chest brushed hers. In the blink of an eye, he set her away from him so fast she had to catch the post of the footboard to keep from sprawlin
g onto the bed. He kept his back to her, running a hand through his hair as he cleared his throat.

  “Rule number one,” he repeated. “You don’t have a choice. We’re doing this. Period.”

  Indignation flared fast, zapping all other sensations sizzling through her. “Hold on. Why don’t I get a choice anymore?”

  When she pushed away from the bed, he jerked up his hand. “Rule number two—”

  “No. No rule number two. You don’t get to just decide for me and then start issuing orders and making up all the rules.”

  “Why not?” He spun around and pinned her with his gaze. “You did.”

  “I was fourteen,” she defended.

  “We both know you knew exactly what you were doing back then.”

  She tried to hold his gaze, but faltered and ended up focusing above his right shoulder. Yes, she’d known what she was doing, and yes, she did owe him, damn it.

  “All right, then,” she conceded ungraciously. “Rule number two?”

  “What ever happens, it’s final. No going back and trying to use the will to get out of it.”

  Final. The extreme meaning of that one word made her realize how much she had to lose if she did not win. No doubt she’d regret it, but since she’d already agreed, there was no going back now.

  She nodded her acceptance of his second stipulation. “You have my word.”

  He gave another one of his obnoxious snorts. “Yeah, sorry, that doesn’t hold much weight in my book.”

  “Well, unless you want someone else to know about this little competition you’ve cooked up, my word will have to do.”

  She offered to shake on it, willing her fingers not to tremble. His gaze dropped to her hand for a moment before he extended his own and fit their palms together. As his warm, calloused palm slid against hers, she sucked in a silent breath from the resulting flare of heat throughout her body.

  All he did was shake briskly with a punishing grip.

  Annoyed at his lack of reaction, and to cover her agitation, she sneered, “May the best man win.”

  Tripp jerked his hand away and abruptly turned for the door.

  “Any more rules I should be aware of?” she asked, flexing her fingers at her side.

  “I’ll let you know as they come to me.”

  “Oh, goody, I can hardly wait.”

  He paused in the doorway to glare back at her. “I have some things to take care of before I can be gone for an extended period of time, but because of the will, we’ll have to leave and return together so no one will be the wiser. Be ready when I get back on Friday.”

  “Back from where?”

  “Galveston.”

  So, he still lived in Texas. “Wait—are we leaving when you get here on Friday, or Saturday morning? I need to let Ernesto know if I’ll be around to help on Friday.”

  “Plan on Saturday morning, then. Night, Princess,” he added a second before the door clicked shut.

  Reggie stared. Blinked. Oh my God, what had she done?

  The last of her remaining strength drained from her limbs. She sunk onto the bed, hugging the footboard post for support. She didn’t even know if she’d find the energy to change into her pajamas and brush her teeth.

  A quick rap on the door was her only warning before it swung open. Tripp stuck his head back inside. Heart thumping, she met his direct gaze.

  “One more question,” he said. “With the money Judd left you, you could go anywhere you want, do anything. Why is it you want the ranch so bad?”

  She hesitated, but decided she owed him a truthful answer, no matter how vulnerable the admission would make her feel. “Warner Ridge is the only true home I’ve ever known.”

  He nodded slowly, a small smile softening his stern face. Her heart lurched at his expression of understanding, and she found herself offering a tentative smile in return.

  “Thank you,” he said, his eyes hardening as he held her gaze. “That’s going to make this worth every damn second when I bring Mason home.”

  Chapter 6

  He should’ve arrived earlier than eleven p.m. on Friday to get a good night sleep before hitting the trail, but the last thing Tripp wanted was to spend any more time in Regan’s presence than he absolutely had to. It’d been bad enough the haunting scent of peaches had invaded his senses at odd moments over the past couple days, he didn’t need to look at the damn woman, too. He had to keep his objective in mind at all times—like when he’d delivered his last cutting remark the other night.

  Her stricken expression had ignited a spark of guilt, but he ruthlessly doused it by reminding himself of all her lies. Fourteen was hardly a child, and she had known exactly what she was doing back then.

  After retrieving his bag from the back seat, he made his way around the truck to drag his tired feet up the porch steps. The ranch house was dark, but Nana had given him a key so he’d just let himself in and go straight upstairs to bed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with the hell his life had become thanks, yet again, to Regan.

  “That’s far enough.”

  Tripp froze at the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked. A second later, the porch light flared bright.

  Lifting his free hand to shield the glare, he squinted and caught sight of Regan, the shotgun in her slim hands pointed straight at him. In sharp contrast to the danger of the gun, she wore a silky-looking, butter-colored night gown that belled around her creamy thighs.

  He didn’t believe she’d shoot him, but strangely enough, the thundering of his heart did not let up.

  “I’d rather a kiss than a belly full of lead, Princess.” Now what the hell had possessed him to say such a thing?

  “Tripp!” She lowered the double barrels.

  He lowered his gaze—straight to her lips. Dangerous territory, especially when they glistened after a sweep of her tongue. So he shifted his attention, taking in her dark, glossy hair tumbling over her shoulders to cover her breasts that’d brushed his chest three nights ago. Blood rushed to his groin, same as it had then. He suppressed a groan. Further down, he noticed the hem of her nightgown ended too far above her knees to be considered a gown, showing off long, shapely legs that were only slightly less sexy in a pair of snug jeans.

  She busied herself un-cocking the shotgun and removing the shells. The screen door creaked loud when she turned to go back into the house. Over her shoulder, she said, “I didn’t think you were going to be here until tomorrow.”

  How in the world had he not heard the door open when she first came out? He hadn’t been that lost in his thoughts. Making his feet maneuver the rest of the steps, he couldn’t tear his gaze from the silhouette of her curves as the light shone through her filmy nightwear.

  Heaven help me.

  Turning away from temptation, he shut and locked the main door while pointing out, “I said I’d be back on Friday.”

  “It’s after eleven.”

  “It’s still Friday.” He wondered at the breathless quality in her voice—then again, he’d probably just scared the daylights out of her. When he turned back, she was reaching to place the shotgun back in its rack on the wall between the foyer and the kitchen.

  Holy hell. Her flimsy hem lifted, then dropped, flirting with his libido. His hands fisted at his sides. This was the exact reason he’d arrived so late, but in true Regan-form, she’d ruined it for him, again.

  Unless...Could this be deliberate? Had she waited for him in the skimpy outfit, so they’d be alone? His pulse sped up before his exhausted mind could decipher the full implications of her attire and control his traitorous physical reaction.

  To prepare for an extended leave from his business, he’d worked over sixty hours in almost four days, then driven twelve hours from Galveston to the ranch. All he could think to ask now, was, “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I came down to make a cup of tea. I was just about to go back upstairs when I heard the truck door slam.” Facing him, she planted her hands on her hips,
the gesture raising the hem of her nightgown once more. “We don’t normally get visitors at this hour, and with just me and Grandma in the house, I can’t be too careful.”

  An unexpected surge of protectiveness surprised him, but he thrust it aside. Her explanation was plausible, and she had seemed relieved when she realized it was him on the porch…but the Regan he knew had always been a superb actress.

  “I didn’t hear the door open.”

  She frowned with a hint of suspicion. “The screen door only creaks after the halfway point—I slipped through.”

  “And it didn’t occur to you it was me?”

  She threw her hands up. “Excuse me, but the truck out there doesn’t exactly look like the car you had earlier this week. Besides, I expected you hours ago, not the middle of the night.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Hardly,” she said with a delicate snort.

  Yet her eyelids lowered as her gaze swept down and up, taking stock of the comfortable T-shirt and old jeans he’d worn for the long drive from Galveston. Something flickered in her eyes, something hot and erotic he instinctively recognized as more dangerous than a rattle snake.

  Thankfully, she shut it down quick and lifted her chin so her cute little nose stuck in the air. “And now that I can see there’s no danger to Grandma, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Her bare feet whispered across the floor toward the stairs. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Shut up. Don’t go there. Don’t— “What about you?”

  Her right foot hit the bottom stair, her nightgown swaying with the enticing movement of her hips. She paused and turned. “What?”

  Hooking one thumb in the front pocket of his jeans, he took slow, measured steps across the floor. Tension spread through him like the flush sweeping across her pale skin. Her fingers tangled in the material of her gown, tugging the hem lower as he came to a stop in front of her. Unfortunately, she also succeeded in lowering the neckline. The thud of his bag dropping to the floor made her flinch.