by Marla Monroe
“Well, he’s not too sharp. What can I say?” Now her smile took over and she laughed. “I don’t think anyone in that family has much sense.”
“You don’t say.” Tyler’s smile reached his eyes as he parked the truck around the back close to the back door.
“I’m going to unload, then do some cleaning.” He jumped down from the truck and opened the tailgate.
Celeste unlocked the back door and held it open for Tyler as he carried the first load inside. She should have offered to help him, but she needed some alone time to sort out her feelings once again. Thinking about the past always ate at her insides. She’d tried to bury it, keep a cover over it so she didn’t have to deal with it. But something kept peeling back the bandage to the festering wound so that she could never quite forgot about it.
She unlocked her bedroom door and stepped inside, closing it behind her. She leaned her back against the door and drew in a ragged breath.
I’ve got to stop letting it tear me up inside like this. I did nothing wrong. It was self-defense, and the only opinion that matters is my own.
Usually, that helped Celeste regain control of the panic that clogged her throat with tears and chased her thoughts in circles. Today, it wasn’t helping a whole lot. The knot choking her wasn’t going away and all she could think about was that Tyler probably thought she was a murderer. If it didn’t bother him then he had to have something in his past that was just as bad.
Celeste stalked across to her little kitchen and opened a cabinet door where she kept her own private stock of top-shelf whiskey. She grabbed a bottle and then a glass. Just as she was about to pour she heard Tyler singing next door. He didn’t have much of a voice, but where he lacked talent, he more than made up for it in enthusiasm. It made her smile.
She screwed the top back on the whiskey and put it up without pouring that drink. Not only was it too early to start drinking, but the need for it kind of melted away. And she didn’t want to need alcohol for any reason.
It was then that Celeste recognized the song. “Gunpowder and Lead” by Miranda Lambert. She smiled. He knew. He understood what had driven her to kill a man. What he didn’t know was that she hadn’t once regretted doing it—killing him. All she’d been able to think about when she’d finally had enough was that he’d taken something precious from her. Something she would never get back. In her mind, he’d already murdered and turnabout was fair play.
The sound of Tyler letting her know that he could read between the lines soothed something inside of her that she’d never believed could be smoothed over, much less healed. The ragged tear in her soul felt just a little bit smaller now.
She couldn’t ignore his blatant acknowledgment of her justification. He’d given her the benefit of the doubt and hadn’t judged her. He deserved to know the complete story.
Everything inside of her screamed no, but she knew it was time. She hadn’t spoken about it one time since the hearing had concluded. She’d endured all of the taunts, accusations, and knowing looks without saying one word in her defense. Celeste had said all she was going to say at the hearing where everyone in town had crowded into the tiny courtroom. The judge should have banned over half of them from the room citing the fire code, but he’d allowed it, hoping he would have a chance to throw her in jail with everyone in town as witness.
Instead, the prosecutor had refused to indict her, demanding her release instead. That had rolled all over the judge. He’d been sure they had Celeste in an open and shut case of murder, or, at the very least, manslaughter. When that hadn’t happened, Lyle Johnson had made it his mission to make her life miserable. It looked like he’d succeeded without Celeste even lifting a finger in defense.
She shook her head and walked with a purpose out of her apartment to knock on Tyler’s door. She grinned. There was music accompanying his solo, but she couldn’t tell if he was actually listening to it as he sang since his notes were pretty far off key. She doubted that he even knew that he sounded like a wounded duck.
When she knocked on the door, it swung open to reveal a shirtless Tyler lying on his back on the floor cleaning beneath the little table normally used for eating. He turned his head when a gasp escaped her mouth.
“Hey. Come on in.” He rolled out from under the table and sat up, bending one knee and wrapping his arm around it. “Did you need something?”
“Um.” She couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought with him sitting on the floor as if nothing was wrong. “Did you know you can’t sing?”
Ah, hell. Did I really say that?
His chuckle grew into a full belly laugh before he managed to rein it in. “Yeah. I can’t carry a tune worth a fuck, but I like singing.”
“Ok. I just wondered if you knew it or not. I’d hate for you to do that in public thinking you were good or something.” She couldn’t seem to stop her mouth from embarrassing her even more.
“Don’t worry. I’ve done it often enough that the guys just roll their eyes and pretend they don’t know me.” He patted a spot on the floor next to him. “Have a seat and tell me why you really came over.”
* * * *
She sure as hell was beautiful. She’d been checking him out when he heard her gasp and turned to look at him. Before she’d managed to school her features, haunted eyes stared at his shirtless chest, then quickly turned into greedy eyes and then faded to complete embarrassment as she’d jerked them up to stare at the ceiling. He liked that she’d been looking. He didn’t like that she’d gotten embarrassed by it.
“Nothing. I just thought you needed to know just how bad your singing was. You should stick to the shower, Tyler.”
He wagged his eyebrows at her and grinned. “How do you know that I don’t sound better in the shower? Maybe you should listen sometime and tell me.”
Hell. I probably went too far there. She warned me that she didn’t mess around with employees.
“I’ll pass. Now I’m going to have to go crank up some Skynyrd just to get that noise out of my head.” She shook her head but sat down—across from him. “Do you always clean this thoroughly?”
“Yep. I’m on the road so much that I’ve learned that you can never clean too much when you stay somewhere that has seen more naked butts than a proctologist. I prefer my own germs, thank you very much.” He scratched his chest then caught her staring at where his hand was.
She jerked her eyes back to his face then her cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink when she realized he’d caught her looking. Tyler couldn’t help but tease her. He winked. More color saturated her cheeks and the tip of her nose.
“So?” he hinted.
“Huh?” She just stared blankly at him for a few seconds then seemed to remember what she was there for. “I decided you should know why I killed him.”
Tyler waited for her to continue. He followed the path her tongue made as she licked her lips. When she bit down on her bottom lip he swore she did it on purpose. He felt that little nip all the way to his dick. It jerked behind the constriction of his jeans. With his knee bent, the added tightness nearly made him moan.
Fuck! If she can do that just by licking her damn lips I’m in trouble.
“I’m listening.”
“His name was Burt Johnson, short for Robert. I’d just opened this place up and maybe a month later, he walked into the bar as if he’d been coming here for years. Maybe he had when Old Doger Dog had the place. It was a real man’s place back then. I bought it from him when he closed it down to retire.” She looked up from her fingers to see if he was really listening or not.
He was. Actively.
“Anyway, Burt had a way about him. You know the kind, smooth and easy to like until you got to know him. He said all the right things and played it cool. Didn’t push me or anything. It didn’t take nearly as long as it should have to wear me down until I accepted a date one Sunday night. And that was that. I was smitten. He courted me like a gentleman, brought me flowers, sometimes a book. He did his homework an
d found out my favorite things.” She drifted off, growing silent as if seeing that first gift all over again.
Tyler interrupted her thoughts, not wanting her to think fondly on anything connected the man. He already knew how it ended but could only guess at what happened to push her to kill the man.
“So you like to read. Any particular subject?” he asked.
Celeste jerked before a nervous chuckle broke her silence. “Yeah. I love to read. I enjoy most any kind of book, but murder mysteries or intrigues are my favorites. I like reading some romance, but after a while, it all seems to run together.”
“I like to read books like Tom Clancy’s Ops books.” He changed positions so that he sat cross-legged in front of her. It gave him some relief from the strain of the jeans on his cock, but it didn’t last long.
She did it again, licked her lips. Maybe he needed to offer her some lip balm. Either that or he was going to end up with a welt across his dick.
“I guess that surprises me. There aren’t a lot of men who read these days. Honestly, I wouldn’t have guessed that you would be one of them.” She smiled, as if to soften the blow of thinking him almost illiterate. Tyler didn’t take offense.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t used to read at all like most men, but had an accident a few years back that left me confined to my bed and then a wheelchair for a couple of months and that nearly drove me crazy. They’re only so many action flicks you can download and the seek-a-word puzzles got boring really quick. I knew better than to try those Sudoku things, so I got a friend of mine to grab a book for me and Tom Clancy was what he brought back.” The way she seemed to hang on to every word gave a new meaning to the term active listening.
Tyler swore she was actually leaning toward him as he spoke. He wanted her to lean forward, to want to get closer to him.
“Were the Ops books the only ones of his you read? What about Hunt for Red October or Sum of all Fears?”
“I read those, but the ones I really devoured where the Ops-Center and Splinter Cell books. But I read them all.”
She didn’t pursue the subject, seeming to want to get back on track. He wondered if she needed to tell the story again or if it was just that she needed him to hear it. Tyler recognized the determination in the set of her jaw and quivering of her chin. This wasn’t easy for her to do. He could help.
“So he used what he’d learned about you to set his hook and reel you in.”
She cocked her head then chuckled. “Yeah, you could say that. He definitely hooked me. I felt like a teenager all over again. I skipped out on the bar when I had someone I trusted there in order to be with him. Lost sleep because I didn’t want to go home and go to bed. I wanted to spend every spare minute of my day with him. I guess you could say I became obsessed with him.” She dropped her eyes back to her hands again.
“Which is what he wanted—for you to become obsessed with him so that you’d do anything to keep him. That’s how manipulators work, Celeste.” Tyler had to tighten his jaw to keep from launching into all the reasons she wasn’t to blame for killing the asshole. He still didn’t know the entire story. He thought he knew what led to her shooting him, but until he did, he wasn’t going to plead her case for her.
“I didn’t see that coming. He just slowly became my focus when the bar had been only a month earlier. I was such a fool. All the signs were there, Tyler. He was controlling, quick-tempered, and jealous of every man and some women who dared talk to me much less look at me wrong.” She sighed and then shook her head. “I was just too in lust to see it. I thought I loved him. It’s my only defense as to why I stayed with him for so long after the first time he hit me.”
Tyler had known it was coming, prepared for it, but hearing it from her lips as if it had been the first of many, so many she didn’t even see it as important churned up anger so intense he was sure something would catch on fire. He wanted to find Lyle Johnson, the man’s father, and teach him a lesson on raising a son who respected women. Then he wanted to pummel the man until he was only a wet spot on the ground.
The amount of anger and violence raging through his bloodstream drew him up short. Where had it come from? The only time he’d ever felt anything nearly that serious was when it involved someone he loved or deeply cared for. He barely knew Celeste. She wasn’t on that list. Was she?
Her voice made him aware that she’d started talking again and he was missing it. Tyler threw up a hand to stop her.
“I need something to drink. Want a bottle of water or something?” he asked getting to his feet.
“Um, water would be good. I guess whiskey is out for now.”
He smiled down at her. “Whiskey is never out, but let’s hold off until after you finish your story. I don’t want you passing out before you get to the good part.”
She frowned up at him, the arch of her brows straightened out as they met over her nose. “The good part? What good part?”
“The part where you make sure someone like you never gets hurt like that again. That’s the good part.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. Tyler walked across to the fridge and somehow managed to open it without pulling the door off the hinges. He was pretty sure he’d stomped rather than just walked, but he couldn’t remember.
“Here you go.” Tyler handed her the bottle of water then sat down next to her.
Since she didn’t protest his close proximity, he figured she understood his reasoning. If she didn’t feel him staring at her, she wouldn’t have as much trouble getting it all out. He figured if he couldn’t stare her straight on, he might not see the emotions that were bound to move across her face. Seeing those might break something inside of him. He didn’t want to try to live with the need to hunt a dead man’s dad down just to teach him a lesson.
“So, anyway, I let him talk me into moving in with him. At the time, the fact that I had a bar outside of town didn’t seem to bother anyone. Mine was a little nicer, so some of the guys in town would bring their wives for a drink and a dance when I had a band. Then those same guys would go over to the other bar when they wanted to be able to feel up the waitresses or score a little on the side. No conflict of interest as far as Burt was concerned.” She took a long pull of the water after unscrewing the cap.
Tyler watched her throat move, constrict, then relax with each swallow she took. He wanted to feel that motion as he licked up her neck.
What the hell is going on with me? Lick her neck? What am I turning into, a vampire?
He gave his head a quick shake to clear it before he did something crazy like try it to see if he liked it. The problem was, he already knew he would. What had happened to his infatuation with Morgan’s wife, Amanda? He’d been in love with her, had left town to keep from screwing up and letting his best friend see how he felt about her. What was he doing getting all hung up over another woman in less than a couple of months? Was he ever going to be able to settle down without becoming hooked on the next woman he saw?
Tyler couldn’t stay here if this continued. He’d never be able to concentrate on doing his job or get any rest because he’d be too busy jacking off to thoughts of her. No, once he’d hung around for a week or so, he needed to move on. He felt for her predicament with the bar situation and all, but one thing he didn’t need was to become obsessed with another woman so that it fucked him up.
Looked like he was going to need to invest in a touring bike with a damn pull behind to stow his clothes and shit. He’d have to stick to the road and just check in with his buddies every few months. There were enough odd jobs out there that Tyler was sure he’d have no trouble making ends meet. All he really needed was food and a roof over his head when it rained.
“Move on” is going to be my new mantra I guess. Since I can’t reign it in where the ladies are concerned, I need to stick to no more than a couple of weeks at any one place. But hot damn she’s perfect.
Chapter Four
Celeste watched Tyler’s face from the corner of her eye. She’d give just about an
ything to know what he was thinking right then. Whatever it was, it was serious enough that it looked almost painful. The scowl on his face along with the almost growl that had come from that side of her when she’d been thinking was enough to scare a person. She wasn’t afraid of him, but for him. What in the world would bother him so much that he looked ready to fight? Maybe something about the story she was telling him struck a chord somehow.
It wouldn’t be surprising if he had a sister or friend who’d lived through something similar. She hadn’t really said much yet, but maybe just the fact that a man had hit her flipped a switch for him. She reached out and clasped his arm just above his wrist before she could stop herself.
That skin to skin contact sent a jolt of something hot and erotic up her arm and settled in the center of her chest. It had affected him, as well, since his head jerked around so that their eyes met. His had darkened to a deeper shade of hazel than she’d ever seen on anyone before. The gold flecks almost took over to other splattered colors.
Celeste didn’t jerk away from him. Instead, she carefully lifted her fingers then pulled back her hand to rest in her lap with the other one. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t make her eyes move away from his. He seemed to have the same trouble. They were connected on a deeper level than she’d ever been connected to another human being, except maybe for…
That served as what she’d needed to cut that thread. She jerked her eyes back to her hands as they twisted some invisible piece of tissue. What had she gotten herself into?
I can’t possibly be attracted to him other than for his good looks. I mean he has a fine looking ass, and I love that messy hair, but more?
She couldn’t do more. Never again.
Tyler cleared his throat, a hard sounding cough that had her body jerking in sympathy. He’d turned his head so that he looked away from her.