Sugar and Sin Bundle

by Stacey Joy Netzel

  “The rope is still around Mason’s neck,” she said as he shrugged his arms into the sleeves. We’ve got to go after him.”

  That got his attention—especially when she struggled to stand, only to sway on her feet.

  “Whoa, there.” His quick, reflexive reach made her gasp. “Sorry.” But he held on until she gained her balance.

  She cradled her injured arm against her stomach and started toward Prince. “Mason could break a leg with that rope on him. Or get caught on something. We’ve got to find him.”

  “What happened anyway?” he asked, following her toward the horse.

  “He jerked me out of the saddle before I could anchor the rope. I should've been more careful. I thought he was tired, but he took off at warp speed the second it settled around his neck.”

  “I was watching you through binoculars—he looked like he was tiring to me, too.”

  “We have to go after him.”

  Holding the edges of his shirt, Tripp glanced at his watch, then squinted at the sun. It was only a couple minutes after four o’clock. They may have another good four hours of light, but they were also over an hour from the cabin. Even if they found Mason tonight, they wouldn’t have enough time to get back, and he didn’t have any gear for them to spend the night out on the range.

  He turned back to tell her no, only to see she'd reached Prince and was trying unsuccessfully to put a foot in the stirrup with her good arm on the horn. Muttering a curse, he hurried over to stop her. “Listen, I’ll look for him tomorrow, it’s too late tonight.”

  “But what if he gets hurt?”

  The forlorn words were an eerie echo of what she’d said to his father the day she’d let Mason loose eleven years ago, only this time her eyes pleaded with him, not his father. He felt himself being drawn in, until she swayed again. He reached to steady her.

  With a decisive shake of his head decisively, he turned her toward him. “We’re going back to the cabin and that’s final. Tomorrow will have to be soon enough to look for Mason.”

  She shifted her injured arm with a wince. He noticed she still held it against her stomach and realized it couldn’t be very comfortable. He stripped his shirt off again and studied it a moment. “Here, put your arm in here, we’ll make a sling.” He held up the pocket he’d fashioned.

  She frowned slightly without moving. “I can’t take your shirt. What will you wear?”

  “My rope won’t work—it’s too stiff, and I have other shirts at the cabin.”

  Still, she hesitated.

  “Regan, it’s no big deal.”

  She shook her head, but he ignored her and slid the makeshift sling under her arm, then reached up to tie the arms behind her neck. After pulling her hair free, he stepped back to check out his handiwork. “How’s that feel?”

  “Fine.” Sniff.

  His gaze snapped up. Tears tracked down her face again. “Oh, man, did I hurt you? God, I’m so sorry.” The tears fell faster, making him feel awful. He shouldn’t have forced her to use the sling. “Regan, honey—”

  She started to cry out loud. His eyes widened in alarm, but when he reached to untie the sling, she took a step forward and buried her face in his collarbone. Unsure of what to do, he gently put his arms around her and murmured soothingly while stroking her tangled curls.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you, Princess.”

  A muffled wail against his shoulder freaked him out. “All right, what in the hell is going on? What did I do?” And then he remembered her asking him last night not to call her Princess. He was such an idiot. “Regan, I’m—”

  “After all I did…all the horrible, terrible things I said to you, the lies I told…after all of it…you go and literally give me the shirt off your back.” She sniffed loud and hiccupped.

  He blinked and frowned at the top of her head. This was about his shirt? “We’re only an hour from the cabin, I think I’ll survive.”

  “I know. Of course you will. I mean, just look at you. You’re one hell of a guy. An honest-to-goodness good guy.”

  She was talking nonsense, but thankfully, the tears had subsided.

  “I don’t deserve you, Tripp. You’re too nice to me.” She sniffed again, brought her good arm up to rest against his chest, then gave a small little sigh while snuggling closer.

  Because his heart beat a little too fast, he teased, “You might have something there.”

  She giggled into the hollow of his throat. Giggled. After another perplexed frown, he suddenly grinned.

  “Regan Reed, you wouldn’t happen to be a little tipsy right now, would you?”

  “Maybe.” She nodded. “Yeah. I skipped lunch.”

  “You had two drinks.” Granted, they’d been long ones, but still.

  “Three. And I told you I couldn’t hold my liquor.”

  He chuckled. “You weren’t lying.”

  “I wasn’t. I don’t lie anymore. Not since you left. Well, not about the important stuff anyway.”

  His grin faded. “Okay. I think we’re done here. Let’s get you home.”

  He felt her frown before she lifted her head to look up. “To the ranch?”

  “I meant the cabin.” Now to get her on a horse. “Can you ride?”

  “Of course.”

  Well, they’d see about that. He turned her back toward Prince, then spent the next couple minutes getting her into the saddle without jostling her shoulder again. “You got it?” he asked, holding a steadying hand on her thigh.

  “Yep. I’m good.”

  “How’s your shoulder?”

  “It hurts some, but not so bad anymore. I think the brandy helped.”

  Hopefully not too much. He watched her atop the horse with a critical eye, but she seemed to be okay. Her crooked grin gave him a little kick to his gut as he turned away. He detoured the opposite direction of Lucky to pick up the flask of brandy and cram his hat back on his head.

  “Sexy.”

  Tripp jerked his head up at the sound of Regan’s low-pitched voice. She watched him walk toward his horse, her crooked grin now decidedly lopsided. He glanced down. Boots, jeans and hat. Good thing it wasn’t closer to noon or he’d end up with a hell of a sunburn on his back.

  “You look like one of those calendar models,” she told him as he swung astride Lucky.

  Boy, the liquor sure had loosened her tongue. He decided to ignore her, but she rode right up alongside him.

  “You’re sexier than Matthew McConnaughey in that Stetson cologne ad.”

  “Oh, Lord,” he muttered.

  “What? Can’t a girl voice her admiration?”

  The pout on her face was reminiscent of her younger years, only now it was cute. He hid a smile so as not to encourage her. “No more alcohol for you. Ever.”

  She grumbled behind him for awhile, but eventually fell silent when he didn’t participate in the amusing argument she’d taken up with herself. He kept their pace slow and by the time they reached the cabin almost two hours later, he’d taken to making sure she was still awake in the saddle every few minutes. The exhausted droop of her shoulders raised his concern again.

  She answered the questions he asked, but toward the end of the ride, he noticed she avoided his gaze. Wouldn’t even look at him as he helped her down from her horse. When she reached to unhook the cinch of her saddle one-handed, he turned her toward the cabin.

  “I’ll take care of the horses, you go rest now.”

  She nodded, keeping her eyes downcast as she moved away. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, you okay? Is your shoulder hurting that bad?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  He caught her good arm and dipped his chin to look at her face. “What’s the matter?”

  Color appeared on her cheeks as she stared in the vicinity of his chest. “I can’t believe I said all that stuff. Now you know why I usually avoid alcohol.”

  Oh, man, she was something else. But at least he didn’t have to worry she was in too much pain. And now that she appe
ared sober again, he decided to have a little fun of his own. Keeping his expression serious, he said matter-of-factly, “You know, it feels nice to be lusted after.”

  Her chin lifted and her eyes narrowed. “I was not lusting after you.”

  “It’s okay, Regan. I know you want me.”

  She pulled free and stalked toward the cabin.

  He couldn’t hold back his grin any longer. “Just admit it,” he called after her. “You did last night.”

  “Leave me alone.”

  Tripp chuckled as the cabin door slammed and turned back to take care of the horses. He felt a little bit guilty for teasing her after she’d been hurt, but how could he not after all her crazy, drunk, sexy talk. Though, it had felt good to know last night wasn’t just a one-time, get-it-out-of-her-system-thing. He’d worried after she snuck off this morning; wondered if it hadn’t just been about making up for the past. And then wondered why he cared.

  Setting the second saddle over the top board of the fence, Tripp swung around when he heard the thunk of wood on wood. He saw Regan toss a piece of wood onto the campfire pit before heading back toward the stack next to the cabin.

  “I thought you were going to rest?” he called.

  “After I get dinner going.”

  “Regan, go lay down.”

  She ignored him, making one more trip before squatting down to light the fire. Tripp muttered under his breath, but decided she knew her limits and could take care of herself. The horses couldn’t, so he brushed and fed them while keeping an eye on Regan. By the time he finished and went inside to grab a shirt, she'd set a smaller pot over the fire to heat, and was chopping up beef jerky one-handed on a small cutting board in her lap.

  He leaned over to look inside the pot to see vegetables and rice already in the water. “Beef stew?” When she nodded without looking up at him, he asked. “How does your arm feel?”

  “Fine.”

  “Did you take anything? Because there’s some ibuprofen in the first aid kit—”

  “I’m fine.”

  He held back an irritated sigh, wondering how to get back to the way things were last night. Not that he expected any sex given the circumstances, but he’d had fun with her, laughing and teasing in between. Even her drunk talk was preferable to the cold shoulder.

  “Why don’t you let me help?” He reached for the cutting board in her hand, but she jerked away. “Regan, listen,” he began with a confused frown. “You don’t—”

  “Last night will not happen again.”

  He blinked with surprise at her low statement. “Where did that come from?”

  “You’re strutting around saying all that stuff, like I’m just going to hop into bed with you again tonight.”

  He gave a short laugh of disbelief. “I was teasing.”

  “Well don’t.”

  “Okay,” he said, holding up his hands despite a surge of impatience. “I’m sorry.”

  “And quit being so damn nice.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “With all your help around here, and last night, and then today with my arm. You’re just trying to get me to lower my guard. We both know you hate me and you’re going to take the ranch, so—”

  “Hold it right there,” he bit out, done with trying to tip-toe around her strange mood. “I told you last night had nothing to do with the ranch.”

  “Oh, please, how could it not?”

  He wasn’t about to tell her he planned to let her have the ranch anyway, not when he was fuming over the fact that despite what he’d told her last night, she still thought he’d used sex as a way to help him win. And where the hell did she get the idea it would help him in the first place?

  “Despite what you think, Tripp, I don’t want you. Not anymore. Once was enough.”

  She didn’t look at him when she said it, and her voice was so low he had to strain to catch the words, but neither lessened the effect of her rejection one bit. He straightened, a sharp pain piercing his chest. A wave of anger followed, sending him away from the fire before he said something he’d regret. He’d learned that lesson the hard way eleven years ago.

  He ended up in the cabin, only to be mocked by the bed, sheets and comforter still messed from their lovemaking the night before.

  Running a hand through his hair, he blew out a frustrated breath and fisted his hand tight. He’d meant it when he said what they’d shared was just between them. He could’ve sworn she believed him. Just because she’d grown up using lies as a means to an end, didn’t mean his motives were dishonest, too, damn her.

  His gaze landed on the box of condoms on the small table by the bed. Without them, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation, because they wouldn’t have had sex in the first place. He reached the table in three strides, grabbed the box, and strode back outside to thrust them under Regan’s nose. She jerked back, her startled gaze rising to his.

  “You’re right on two counts, Princess. Last night won’t happen again, and, yes, once was more than enough.”

  Now that was a lie. But it didn’t keep him from tossing the box into the fire.

  Chapter 11

  Reggie watched Tripp strip off his shirt with an angry jerk as he stalked away. Her gaze shifted to the condoms with flames licking up the side of the box, then back to the muscles in his shoulders as he bent over to tug off his boots by the bench at the lake shoreline. He proceeded to strip naked and dove into the water, obviously not caring she watched every move. As if she could’ve torn her gaze away from his sculpted body for anything.

  When she returned her gaze to the fire, desire pulsed through her with every beat of her heart, extinguishing some of her fatigue. The flames glowed green and blue from the ink on the condom box and the smell of the torched latex stung her nose. She closed her eyes for a moment, unable to believe he’d burned them. It only reinforced what a good guy the jerk was.

  All afternoon, after every single thing he did for her, she fell in love with him a little more. It was going to be hard enough to leave anyway, but if he kept being so nice, it’d be darn near impossible.

  If he had been using sex to help him win the ranch—and she knew he hadn’t—he wouldn’t have thrown away any possibility of it happening again. She’d only tossed the accusation out because, given his reaction previously, she knew he’d take it personally and she was desperate for some distance from him.

  Fifteen minutes later, after taking three extra-strength pain relievers to help ease the ache in her shoulder and wishing she could take something for her heart, she came back outside to find Tripp dressed again, dumping out the coffee she’d started.

  “That hadn’t even started to brew,” she protested.

  He completely ignored her while starting a new pot, didn’t say a word when she handed him a bowl of stew, and left her to pour her own coffee one-handed. She ate slowly, even though she wasn’t hungry anymore.

  Boy, she was good, wasn’t she? First, she told him she didn’t lie any more, then in only a few words, she’d succeeded in putting a chasm between them as deep as the Grand Canyon. He was a pro at the silent treatment, too, with his steel gaze and granite jaw.

  She blinked a few times and swallowed the lump in her throat, hoping to ease the tightness constricting her chest. It was better this way, with animosity between them. Things were so much easier when he simply hated her.

  And maybe if she kept repeating distance between them was a good thing, she’d actually start to believe it.

  When she couldn’t bring herself to force down another tasteless bite, she set her bowl aside and reached for a bucket to get water from the lake. She felt his gaze on her when she returned with it barely a quarter full. After setting the stew pot aside, she hung the bucket and picked up the second bucket to fill. On her way back, she realized she’d have to ask for his help to dump it into the first one.

  Before she could voice the request, though, he stood up and took the handle from her grip. The brush of his fingers against hers se
nt awareness tingling up her arm. Knowing exactly what he could do with those hands only made it worse. She bit her lip and stood back. Ever since he’d burned the box of condoms, she couldn’t stop thinking about making love with him again.

  Must be her penance for lying to him like the old Regan.

  He made another trip to the lake to fill the bucket, then sat down to finish eating. She sat too, not sure what to do or say while waiting for the water to boil. She wanted to apologize, found the words on the tip of her tongue more than once, but what would they accomplish? Her heart would be damned if she did, and she was damned by him if she didn’t. All in all, it was probably better to leave things the way they were.

  When he set his empty bowl inside hers and then disappeared into the pines, she decided the best course of action was to keep busy. Gathering up their dishes, she carried them inside to the cabin sink. One more trip snared her some warm water from the bucket above the fire and she went back inside to wash the dishes. It was a tiring challenge one-handed, but she’d just finished when she heard the door open.

  Tripp strode in with the bucket of hot water, only pausing a second when he saw her at the sink, the bowls dripping in the drain rack on the counter. She turned away to reach for a drying towel, listening to his booted footsteps cross the floor to the bathroom. Moments later, he stood next to her and removed the towel from her shaky fingers.

  “Go.”

  Afraid his expression would match his cold tone, she headed straight for the bathroom. No more than she closed the door, she realized she needed her pajamas for after she was done washing. He turned around when she stepped back out.

  “Do you need help?”

  His grudging offer surprised her, as did the warm flicker of concern in his blue eyes. Until the picture of him removing her shirt flashed so vividly that she panicked and her “No!” came out fast and sharp. His gaze hardened again. Tossing aside the towel, he left the cabin without another word.