Crazy for Lovin’ You

by Teresa Southwick

  “Okay,” he said, but his tone implied he didn’t believe that for a second. “Then what about Dev Hart?”

  “More than one meddler in town has tried to fix me up with him. Including but not limited to Bonnie Potts and Doc Holloway.”

  “I’m not surprised. You two have a lot in common. You could do worse.”

  “I could do better. But yagottawanna. And I don’t want to.”

  “Why? He’s not bad looking.”

  “You noticed that, did you?” she asked with a grin. She pulled a mantle of teasing and nonchalance around her to cover up the hurt. Was this nice guy Mitch Rafferty? Was he trying to pair her with someone else so it wouldn’t hurt like the devil tomorrow when he took up with her sister again?

  “I’m on the lookout for you,” he answered pointedly, unruffled by her teasing. “He’s got money. Nice house. Cute kid. What’s not to like?”

  “Easy question, not even a challenge. Dev isn’t over his ex-wife. I already had a bad experience with a rebound Romeo. Why would I trade a wonderful friendship for a doomed romance with Dev?”

  “So you wouldn’t be alone.”

  “I’m not going there. I found out that if the someone in your life doesn’t make it better, then there’s something wrong. I’m way past the age where a woman needs a man to feel fulfilled.”

  “You’re too young to be way past any age.”

  “Okay. Then I’m at the if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it stage.”

  “Is that the one where dating is too much trouble?”

  “That’s the one,” she agreed. “Partly. The engagement fiasco happened because I overlooked the college fiasco—”

  “What?” he asked sharply.

  She wondered at the intensity of his expression, not to mention the bite in his tone. “It was no big deal. I think every girl runs into a guy like that. If she’s smart it’s only once.”

  “A guy like what?” He encircled her wrist with a steely grip, not hurtful but enough to get her attention. His gaze said he wouldn’t put up with evasion.

  “Oh, you know the type. He thinks he’s God’s gift and a woman should count herself lucky if he condescends to toss her a crumb of attention. But I didn’t realize that at first. I cared about him a lot. Right up until he wanted something I wasn’t prepared to give.”

  “What did he do?” he demanded, slightly increasing the pressure of his grip. Anger sizzled in his blue eyes.

  “He got pushy, said he’d waited long enough. I was a tease. And he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “He didn’t—”

  She shook her head. “I backed him off with the move you showed me. A well-placed knee, issued in a businesslike way is pretty convincing.”

  He looked at her for a moment, then his mouth turned up at the corners into a pleased grin. “It worked?”

  “Like a charm.” She returned his smile. “He called me some ugly names, but his gasping soprano took out the sting. And he said I should loosen up if I didn’t want to be alone, that guys only want one thing.”

  “Son of a b—” He stopped and took a deep breath. “A lot of guys do, Taylor. But not all.”

  “What do the others want?”

  “Success, stability, a family, friends they can count on. A place to call home. Everyone needs to figure out what it is they’re looking for.”

  “Have you?”

  But she already knew the answer. He’d been looking for ten years and he still wanted Jen.

  He shook his head. “I haven’t figured that out yet. But when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

  She wouldn’t have to wait longer than tomorrow, she thought. And one picture was worth a thousand words. He would only have to take one look at Jen. Taylor would be able to read him like a book. She would know and he wouldn’t have to say a single word.

  The final preparations were underway for the championships that night. Mitch stood by the fence, supervising assembly of the spectator grandstands. A huge tarp had been erected to provide shade from the June sun. Hannah Morgan’s medical trailer was in place behind the arena, close by in case it was needed, which he hoped it wouldn’t be. A stand to sell refreshments was set up in a convenient location to the activities and viewers. He was counting on folks to come hungry because profits would go to the rodeo association. Beside that, a booth had been erected to market souvenir T-shirts, and programs—another source of revenue that would go to the kids.

  Maggie Benson had agreed to man that stall in order to advertise This ’n That, her successful clothing, antique and country crafts shop in downtown Destiny. He’d seen some of her hand-embroidered denim jackets and knew she was a true artist, not to mention pretty cute, which wouldn’t hurt sales.

  In the distance, he could see the crew working on chalking out a parking area for the friends, family and rodeo supporters who would attend the week’s activities. He nodded with satisfaction. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

  But this whole complicated production was a walk in the park compared to the monumental chore of putting Taylor out of his mind.

  He heard footsteps behind him and his Taylor-radar cranked up, kick-starting his heart. Part of him was pumping his arm and shouting yee-hah; the other part groaned in frustration. How was he going to learn to treat her like a little sister after he’d kissed her like a lover?

  “Hi, Mitch.” She stepped on the first rung of the fence beside him and crossed her arms on the top. She was so close, he could smell her fragrance and knew that she’d used cucumber melon body lotion.

  “Hi,” he answered through gritted teeth.

  Glancing at him she said, “You look like the seventh dwarf, Grumpy. What’s wrong?”

  “Not a thing, little T.” He deliberately used Dev’s nickname for her. She’d assured him that the stockman was nothing more than her friend. That was almost the same as a big brother. He would imitate Dev to keep her at a distance.

  She frowned and the expression on her face said she was puzzled. But all she said was, “Smile when you call me that.”

  “How are things up at the house? Guests settled in okay?”

  He had arranged for some of the rodeo association’s board of directors to stay on the ranch. Not only was it convenient for them, but there were several influential members who could help her operation by word-of-mouth.

  She nodded. “The place is full, except my old room. So far I’ve heard nothing but raves. I think the folks you recommended will really help. Thanks for giving me the business.”

  That wasn’t the business he wanted to give her, but no way could he tell her that. “I’m glad it’s working out. It’s the least the board can do. Thanks to you, there’s going to be a rodeo for these kids.”

  “No, thanks to you. I provided the land. But every invasion needs a general.”

  He grinned. “I like that. General Mitch Rafferty.”

  “I suspect I’m asking the impossible, but don’t let it go to your head.”

  “With you around? Not a chance.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” She shot him a challenging look as if to say, are you?

  After several moments, she turned to study the preparations in progress. He took the opportunity to memorize the sight of her. Her white straw hat sat squarely on her head, casting a shadow over her face, shielding her from the brutal Texas sun. Most of her hair was tucked up and off her neck, except for the wisps that refused to surrender and danced around her face in the breeze. Her cute little turned-up nose was pink and peeling and sported a hodgepodge of freckles, an occupational hazard of working outside. But with her B&B on the verge of off and running, she would probably split her time indoors and out.

  She wore a light blue denim shirt tucked into worn jeans that showed off her curves to mouthwatering perfection. It would be so easy to slip his arm around her slender waist and snuggle her against him. He’d discovered that she fit there perfectly. Now he struggled to forget that fact.

  “It’s exciti
ng, isn’t it?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Some of the best memories I’ve got are from high school rodeo.”

  “Hmm,” she said wistfully. “Do you miss the pros, too?”

  He nodded. “There’s an excitement, an underlying humming that sets every muscle and nerve ending on edge. It’s a high that you can’t get any other way. That’s what I miss most.”

  “Even after all this time?” she asked.

  “I think it will be with me until I’m a hundred and five.”

  “A hundred and five? That’s ambitious.” She flashed him a smile that went straight to his heart.

  “The spirit is willing, and always will be,” he said. “But the flesh—Well, that’s another kettle of fish.”

  “Or a horse of a different color,” she commented, giving him a wry look.

  He laughed. “A bull of a different shade would be more accurate. I’d like nothing better than to partake of the bone-rattling event. Unfortunately my bones are a lot older now. And I like to think I’m wise enough to protect them from myself.”

  “Meaning old age is hot on your heels,” she teased.

  “Meaning I’m almost content to leave it to the youngsters.” He considered the wistful expression on her face. “What about you, Grandma Moses?”

  “What about me?” she asked, slanting him a saucy look.

  He recalled how she’d looked when she’d told him why she hadn’t rodeoed since the championships ten years ago. At the time, he’d had the feeling that there was more to it than what she’d told him, about her father’s lack of support. His recollection of her dad was that he backed his girls in whatever endeavor they chose. If Mitch was right, then Taylor was the one who had decided to quit competing. As much promise as she’d shown, he couldn’t help wondering why.

  “Do you miss competing?” he asked.

  “Some of my best memories are of high school competition,” she answered, parroting what he’d said moments before.

  “You were so fast, so skilled, so focused. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a horsewoman with more promise than you. Why did you quit? And I’m not buying the lame excuse you gave me. Your dad was a rancher. He boarded rodeo stock.”

  “That’s just business.”

  “Okay. But he was also a proud father. I may not know a lot about families or a parent’s pride, but I saw the look on his face when you rode. He didn’t look like a man who couldn’t care less about his daughter’s activities. What’s the real reason, Taylor?”

  She met his gaze with her own shadowed, doubtful look. After mumbling something that sounded a lot like, what harm can it do, she said, “I miss the excitement. I loved the thrill that sang through me when I woke up in the morning on the day of the events. The adrenaline rush as I waited my turn, mentally calculating every move I’d make, was like nothing I’ve experienced before or since. I enjoyed the challenge of trying to stay loose, to keep my horse loose so I could anticipate any moves he might make.”

  He stared at her. “So why did you stop?”

  “Jen eloped.”

  “What did that have to do with you?”

  She shrugged, then squinted across the arena to the preparations in progress. “And you went away. Nothing was the same. I guess the fun went out of it for me.”

  “Do you ever wish you could go back to the way things were?”

  “All the time,” she said.

  “Not me.”

  “Why not? You had girls hanging around you three deep. What’s not to like?” Then she nodded knowingly, but there was a tension in her body language. When she met his gaze, her own was shuttered. “This is about Jen.”

  Her voice lacked emotion, but somehow he knew that was deliberate.

  “Partly,” he admitted. “But my feelings for her ended a long time ago. I put it in the no pain, no gain category.”

  “So you admit she hurt you?”

  “I never denied that. And you should know that better than anyone. But I learned from what happened with her. School of hard knocks has always been my best education.”

  “And the lesson?”

  “Don’t compete when you haven’t got a chance.”

  “So when my sister gets here this evening, you expect to feel nothing?”

  He didn’t miss the edge in her voice or how she studied him like the notes for her last college final. “That’s right. Like I said, I stopped caring about Jen years ago.”

  “Not even a twinge of the old feelings?”

  “Nope.”

  “She’s better looking than she was ten years ago.”

  “Most people are. Including you,” he pointed out. “Please tell me you’re not playing matchmaker.”

  She shook her head. “It’s just that I’ve got this feeling—”

  “What?” he asked when she hesitated.

  “You’re going to laugh, but ever since you returned to Destiny, I can’t help feeling as if the past is clamoring to be organized and set to rights.”

  “That sounds like something out of a science fiction movie,” he said laughing.

  “I knew you wouldn’t take me seriously. But Jen is beautiful, sophisticated and fun. She’s an up-and-coming family law attorney—”

  “Speaking of cross-examinations,” he interrupted. “Is there a point to yours anywhere in my future?” It sounded as if she was trying to sell him on her sister. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why.

  “I just can’t help wondering if you really meant what you said.”

  “About what?” he asked.

  “When you see Jensen again, will you be lying when you said you feel nothing? That you stopped caring for her years ago?”

  “I don’t have to see her. I can tell you right now I was lying.”

  “You were?” She looked surprised and there was almost a stricken expression on her face.

  “Yeah. I expect when I see Jen, I’ll feel the pleasure of getting reacquainted with an old friend.”

  “Yeah, and longhorns will fly.”

  She stepped off her perch and stuck her hands into her pockets. Turning away without another word, she walked down the slight hill toward the house, hands in her pockets, shoulders slumped.

  He wanted to follow and pull her into his arms. But he didn’t dare. He wouldn’t hurt her for the world. Besides the fact that she was all about home, family, roots and he had no experience with any of the above, he needed to put the past to rest. He’d never felt about any woman the way he felt about Taylor. But he had unfinished business with her sister.

  He was almost positive the spark for Jensen was dead, but she was his first love, the first woman he’d wanted.

  Tomorrow he would know.

  Chapter Ten

  Standing at Taylor’s front door with Grady O’Connor, Mitch saw the sweet, sporty red BMW convertible raising dust clouds as it raced down the long dirt road. It passed the chalked-off rodeo parking, then rounded the arena area and headed for the house. Championships were due to start in about two hours, he noted glancing at his watch. Spectators would be showing up soon.

  “Looks like someone’s navigational system is hay-wire,” he commented to Grady.

  Through his reflective aviator sunglasses, the sheriff studied the vehicle coming toward them. “I can handle this. That’s why you’re paying me the big bucks.”

  Mitch grinned. “By definition, volunteer means you don’t get paid. And that was your choice. But I gotta tell you, buddy, it’d be tough to retire on that. There’s money in the rodeo budget for security.”

  “My deputies deserve every bit of that. I’m just here to supervise.”

  “And spectate,” Mitch clarified.

  “And set wayward ladies straight,” he added, nodding in the direction of the luxury car that had just come to a stop.

  “The top is up on that convertible and the windows are tinted. How do you know that’s a woman driver?” Mitch asked, intrigued.

  “Gut feeling. The car. The color. I’ve done a p
ersonal, unofficial study. Besides, I’m a cop. After awhile, we law enforcement types get an instinct about this sort of thing.”

  “When do you find the time for any study—official or otherwise?” Mitch asked, remembering Melissa Mae Arbrook’s words about him sheriffing, ranching and parenting twin girls.

  “So you think I’m wrong?” he countered, neatly sidestepping the question.

  “It’s not that. I just—”

  “If you doubt my expertise, just wait a second,” he said, nodding toward the car.

  The door opened and two slender, tanned legs appeared. The hem of her—and it was definitely a her—lime-green sundress hiked up to reveal a shapely thigh. Impractical brown leather sandals revealed her feet and toenails painted pink. A memory flashed, hitting Mitch with a vision of Taylor’s pink-painted toes propped on the side of the tub. Heat radiated through him, followed by a niggling sensation of familiarity.

  When the woman finally emerged from the car, he guessed she was about Taylor’s height, which meant not very tall. But she had a whole lot of slender and shapely packed into her compact figure. Her brown hair, highlighted with red, dusted the back of her bare neck and just the tops of her shoulders.

  Mitch knew who she was. He glanced at Grady wondering if he’d recognized her yet. In spite of the sunglasses, he noted an expression on the other man’s face that indicated he liked what he saw.

  Grady looked at Mitch. Together they said, “Jensen.”

  “How did you know?” Mitch asked. He had dated her once upon a time. But he was surprised that the sheriff was able to identify her from the back.

  “She doesn’t look like a typical rodeo spectator,” Grady observed. “No jeans, hat or boots.”

  “Inconclusive. At an event like this there are a lot of people who don’t dress the part. What was your real clue?”

  Grady grinned, flashing white teeth against the tanned skin of his face. “Best legs I’ve ever seen, bar none.”