No Getting Over a Cowboy

by Delores Fossen

He wet his fingers with his tongue and touched her nipples some more. Both of them. He also kept watch because, while he was in the hot and heavy foreplay mindset, he also still had a partial brain. That brain kept reminding him that they were on Main Street. Thankfully, though, no one was around.

  Garrett pulled her closer. Nicky cooperated. Still no lap maneuver, mainly because of the steering wheel, but she did end up straddling his thigh. That was a good position for him to lower his hand to the center of her jeans.

  She cursed him. And that made him smile. Made him do it again, too. And again. He touched her through the layers of clothing but figured he was getting the right spot because she dropped her head on his shoulder.

  And then she played dirty.

  Nicky kissed his neck. Not just an ordinary kiss, either. She tongued it, and while she scooted closer and closer to his moving fingers, she did some moving of her own. Her hand went to the front of his jeans, and Garrett did his own version of moaning when she found the right spot. Of course, his spot was a lot easier to find because he now had a full-blown erection.

  “We need to get a room,” he grumbled. Or hell, maybe he could just pull into one of the alleys and finish this there. Something quick and dirty...

  His brain kicked in again and gave him an image that brought that thought to a halt. The memory of Meredith’s video. That had happened in a vehicle, too, and he’d been stunned that she would have done that in a public place.

  Much as he was doing right now.

  He had one hand up Nicky’s shirt, another on her crotch, and they were only seconds away from creating a scene that would be YouTube-worthy. Definitely not good.

  Nicky must have realized it, too, because she eased back. Eased away her hand, as well, and Garrett did the same.

  “I think we got carried away,” she said, her voice strained because she was breathing too fast.

  That fast breathing was causing her breasts to rise and fall. Something that got his attention despite the fact he should be doing something to soften his hard-on. This was the opposite of softening.

  Garrett couldn’t force his attention off her and to a safer view. Nope. He was clearly still in stupid mode because he looked down at where her shirt had come open. Her breasts were right there for him to see, and her right nipple was peeking over the top of the bra cup that he’d pushed down.

  But that wasn’t all he saw.

  There was a scar. And even though he didn’t want to look, Garrett did. It wasn’t an ordinary scar. No. This was a word, and he got just a glimpse of it before Nicky yanked the side of her shirt over it.

  “Oh, God,” she said. She made another sound. Definitely not a moan of pleasure. And while she was still fixing her shirt, she bolted from his truck and started running.

  * * *

  NICKY FIGURED THAT Garrett’s state of arousal would slow him down, and it did. By the time he made it out of his truck, she was already halfway up the block. She had no idea where she was going, but she had to get out of there fast.

  Fast, before the tears came.

  Too late, though. They were already burning her eyes, making it hard for her to see, so Nicky ducked into the alley between the hardware store and the pharmacy. It’d been years since she’d gotten off the sidewalk of Main Street and ventured to the backs of the buildings, but as a teenager she’d done it a couple of times to avoid seeing her father.

  Then a couple more times to avoid seeing Meredith and Garrett together.

  Thankfully, there was no one in the alley. No one behind the businesses, either, so Nicky kept running. She didn’t look back for fear that she would see Garrett, and she was in no shape to face him right now.

  Her phone buzzed, and she took it out long enough to see that it was from Garrett. He was no doubt wanting to know all about the scar he’d seen on her breast. She let the call go to voice mail and hoped that would be enough of a clue for Garrett to give her some time.

  Like maybe a couple of years.

  Another secret out of the bag. And this was one she would have gladly kept for the rest of her life. She’d been a fool to think that making out with Garrett wouldn’t have consequences. Especially making out in broad daylight.

  She kept running until her side hurt and her breath came in short spurts. Nicky had no choice but to stop, and she leaned against a building. It took her a moment to realize which building it was.

  The Longhorn Bar.

  Great. She’d come full circle, and worse, she heard footsteps coming her way. Nicky gathered as much breath as she could manage and got ready to move again. Before she could do that though, Roman came around the corner.

  Even though she didn’t want to see him, it was better than if it had been Garrett.

  Roman didn’t seem surprised at all to see her. Nor did he hurry closer. He just strolled toward her in that laid-back way of his.

  “Garrett just called me,” Roman said. “He’s looking for you, and he sounded worried.”

  Yes, he would be. Maybe disgusted, too, by what he’d seen.

  “He didn’t say what was wrong,” Roman went on. “And I didn’t ask.” He paused. “Do you want me to ask?”

  “No.” She couldn’t say that fast enough.

  Roman made a fair-enough sound and stopped several feet away. He took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. What he didn’t do was press her for anything. He just stood there while she dried away the old tears. Some fresh ones, too.

  She had to get control of herself. Had to woman up. This was just part of the old memories and scars that had haunted her for way too long. She had to find a way to get past it.

  “My son called me an old fart this morning,” Roman tossed out there. “Of course, he didn’t say it to my face. He mumbled it under his breath when I told him he couldn’t have six friends over on a school night.” He pressed his thumb against his chest. “Me, an old fart. Doesn’t quite go with my badass image, huh?”

  Nicky couldn’t help it. She smiled. It didn’t last, but that was okay. Even a brief smile gave her a moment to get her footing.

  “I told you that for a reason,” he went on. “Sometimes, what other people see aren’t who or what we are.” The corner of his mouth lifted. Heck, even his smile was badass. “Was that a good enough life lesson for you to stop crying? And don’t think that was a story I just made up. He really did call me an old fart.”

  She nodded. “It was an adequate enough life lesson.” It wasn’t, not really, but at least talking to Roman was giving her time to reconstruct the wall that she was very good at building. She needed to keep up the repairs on that wall.

  And not wear shirts that could easily come unbuttoned.

  While she was at it, Nicky needed to rethink this whole lust thing with Garrett. When he was kissing her, she’d thought that sex could be a possibility. Even casual sex. But the only way that could happen would be in a dark room. No chance of that now. Garrett had gotten a look inside her shirt, and even if they did land in bed, that scar would always be between them.

  “Better?” Roman asked when she handed him back his handkerchief.

  “Yes,” she lied.

  The flat look he gave her proved he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t call her on it, either. “You want me to drive you back to Z.T.’s place?”

  It was a generous offer, especially considering that Roman avoided the ranch so that he wouldn’t run into his mother. She didn’t like that he would be putting himself out like that, but there weren’t a lot of options other than walking. She’d ridden into town with Sophie so her SUV was at the ranch.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said.

  He didn’t put his arm around her or anything. Maybe because he realized she was too fragile. A gesture like that would only start the tears again. Instead, he fell in step beside her as they made the
ir way to the front of the Longhorn.

  “Does this mean you’ve given up on the idea of having sex with my brother?” Roman came out and asked.

  If any other man had been asking the question, she would have been surprised. But this was Roman. “He’s probably given up on the idea of having sex with me.”

  “I doubt it.” He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Garrett’s always had a thing for you.”

  “Until he met Meredith,” she quickly pointed out.

  “I didn’t say he was smart, only that he had a thing for you.” Roman smiled, causing her to smile, too. “My advice? Don’t give up on sex with him. Seems to me you could both use something to loosen you up a bit. You’re both wound pretty tight right now.”

  Finally, something she couldn’t argue with. Nicky felt like a coil, ready to snap. And she doubted sex was going to fix that.

  She heard the voices when they were just a few steps away from Main Street, and Nicky stopped so she could make sure it wasn’t Garrett. It wasn’t. But she instantly recognized who they belonged to.

  Gina and Kaylee.

  They were walking down the sidewalk, and Kaylee had a book in her right hand. Kaylee immediately spotted her. She ran to Nicky, and she scooped up the little girl into her arms. The hug was the fastest way to improve Nicky’s mood.

  “We drove into town for ice cream and then stopped by the bookstore,” Gina said, her gaze sliding from Nicky to Roman. She extended her hand to Roman. “I’m Gina Simpson from the Widows’ House. Car accident,” she added as if that were part of a normal conversation. “I’m also Kaylee’s nanny.”

  “Roman Granger.” And though Gina didn’t ask, he added, “I’m the black sheep of the family. Whatever you’ve heard about me is probably true.”

  “All I’ve heard is that you were nice enough to let us stay at the house when we were waiting for the cops to clear out the Widows’ House.” Judging from Gina’s sly smile, though, she’d heard much, much more about Roman.

  There was concern in Gina’s eyes when she looked at Nicky. Appreciation when she looked at Roman. Roman had that effect on women, and even Kaylee didn’t seem to be immune to that.

  “Will read dis to me?” Kaylee asked, and she held out the book to him.

  Roman was a father, but his son, Tate, was almost thirteen. It’d probably been a while since he’d read to a toddler. Still, he took the book from Kaylee, opened to the first page and started reading. Well, what reading there was to do anyway, considering it was a picture book about kittens, but Roman went through the handful of words and made a few sounds.

  Most women would have been totally engrossed in a hot cowboy reading to a child, but Gina kept her attention on Nicky. Her eyes were no doubt still red from crying, but even if they hadn’t been, Gina would have noticed there was something wrong.

  Roman finished the book, handed it back to Kaylee, and she thanked him. “You still need that ride to the ranch?” he asked Nicky.

  She shook her head when she spotted Gina’s car parked just up the street. “I can go back with Gina.”

  He nodded but didn’t move. Roman stared at her a moment longer as if considering one last time whether to get to the bottom of what had gone wrong, but he finally shrugged, mumbled a goodbye and walked away.

  “I’m not sure how you can keep from drooling when you’re talking to him,” Gina commented. “But then, you’ve got something else on your mind. Garrett called me,” she added a heartbeat later. “He’s looking for you. Want to tell me why you’re not letting him find you?”

  Nicky checked to make sure Kaylee wasn’t hanging on every word, but thankfully she was looking at her new book. “Garrett saw the scar” was all Nicky said.

  Gina’s gaze fired back to her, and her forehead bunched up. “God, I’m sorry. Should I ask how he reacted?”

  “No. In fact, please don’t ask anything else about it.”

  Gina wouldn’t. That’s why Nicky considered her to be such a good friend. She wouldn’t ask, though Nicky was certain she wanted to know. One day, Nicky might show it to her.

  But not today.

  Today, she would hide the word a little bit longer. The word that had been carved into her skin.

  Whore.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  NICKY WAS ON the porch steps of her old house again, and even though she knew it was a dream, it felt real. Always did. This time there was progress, though. She marched right up the steps and made it all the way to the front door. Her feet cooperated.

  The rest of her didn’t, though.

  She froze right in the doorway, and without the broken screen to partially block her view, she could see the living room. Not filled with dust and dead leaves, though. It was the way it’d been when she was a kid. Clean, everything in its place. In the adjacent dining room, she could see dinner on the table. Everything in place there, too, and if the plates hadn’t been mismatched, it would have looked like a picture from a magazine.

  The images came, and she tried to turn away. But tonight, there were no shields. No way to stop this. She was as helpless now as she’d been then.

  He came at her, his hands already balled into fists. Her father. The man who had maybe once loved her. Maybe. But he didn’t love her now. There was only hate in his eyes.

  His face was red, partly from the booze, and he reeked of it. Not just his breath—Nicky could have sworn he was sweating it, too. That was the only thing that explained the stench.

  She braced herself for the fist. And it came. It landed against her head. His favorite spot because it didn’t leave a visible mark. Nothing for the town to see so they would know his secret. That he hated her and wanted to punish her.

  Nicky felt the punch, and the pain ripped through her head. She didn’t fight back. She’d learned the hard way that it only made it worse. Nor did she cry. Tears made it worse, too. She just lay there, silent and unmoving, where he’d beaten her down, and she prayed that tonight it would only be the one punch.

  It wasn’t.

  He came at her again, but this time Nicky’s own hoarse sob woke her from the dream.

  * * *

  “COCKSUCKER,” D.M. SNARLED.

  Nicky wasn’t sure what D.M. was trying to convey, especially since that didn’t seem to be an answer to the question: What do you miss most about your husband or partner?

  The counselor, Cassie McCord, kept her attention on D.M. “Would you like to share more?” Cassie asked.

  “My husband was a cocksucker,” D.M. said after a few tics of her head. “I should have left him, but I kept thinking he’d change. He didn’t. So, I guess what I miss is the hope that he’d change. There’s no hope of that now with him six feet under.”

  “All right,” Cassie said. She waited a few more seconds, but when D.M. didn’t add anything else, she turned to the woman sitting next to D.M.

  “I miss sleeping next to someone,” Ruby, the suicide widow, said. “Especially during thunderstorms and cold weather.” Her voice was soft and tentative, and she was staring at the floor instead of at Cassie or anyone else in the group.

  There were eight other widows—and Meredith—in the group therapy circle in the parlor, and all eyes were on Ruby since it was her turn. All except Nicky made sounds of agreement, but that was because she was still thinking of the dream she’d had the night before. Sometimes the dream stayed with her, no matter how much she tried to shake it.

  This was one of those times.

  But she had to shake it. Had to focus and put herself back together. If not, everyone would think that she was too broken to figure out something as simple as what she missed most. It wasn’t sleeping next to Patrick, that was for sure. Patrick was gone so much on business and then with his cheating, that they hadn’t spent a lot of nights in the same bed. Even when the
y had, it hadn’t felt as if he’d been there mentally.

  “Brian was a cover hog, though,” Ruby continued a moment later. “And sometimes he would sleepwalk and do number one on me. Urinate,” she clarified. “But I suppose that’s happened to everyone at one time or another.”

  No one made sounds of agreement, but Nicky was sure she made a face.

  “Donkey dicks,” D.M. mumbled.

  That was probably the most accurate thing someone could have said because yes, Nicky was shocked, too.

  “And I thought my man was a cocksucker,” D.M. added. “At least he didn’t use his cock-sucking ways to pee on me.”

  “Brian didn’t know he was doing it, of course.” Ruby, again. “And he rarely did number two, mostly just number one.”

  Everyone but Ruby and the counselor made a face.

  Great day. Maybe Nicky’s own marriage hadn’t been so bad after all.

  “Anyway, I don’t miss the number one and number two,” Ruby went on, “but I miss Brian. When I get to heaven and see him, the first thing I’m going to ask him is why he took that whole bottle of pills.” Her jaw suddenly got tight. “And then I’m going to kick him in the balls for doing that.”

  Lady cheered, pumping her arm in the air as if she were at a sporting event. Since she was swigging on a beer, it added to the ambiance. “Anger is a natural response,” Cassie assured Ruby. “And it’s something you and I are going to try to work through in our private sessions.”

  Yes, those. Cassie had indeed agreed to do one-on-ones with whoever wanted them. Most did. Nicky included.

  “And what about you?” Cassie prompted when she turned to Lizzie. “What do you miss most?”

  Lizzie opened her mouth, closed it and opened it again. “I’m not sure. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”

  Nearly everyone in the room sighed. That’s because not doing or saying the wrong thing was Lizzie’s go-to response. The woman was afraid of her own shadow. Literally. Nicky had witnessed Lizzie shriek when the light slanted just right to make her look like a swamp monster on the kitchen wall. Of course, Nicky had nearly shrieked, too. That kitchen still had bad puking memories for her.