“Yes. We met in Vegas when I was using the name Sin. You had it completely figured it out.”
“And you still lied.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement.
She bit her lip so hard it actually stung. “Yes.”
Chapter Eight
Hearing Claire admit it aloud gave him permission to stop doubting himself. To stop wondering if he’d gone a little crazy for pursuing it so hard.
The woman he’d been thinking about, for almost a year now, was the same woman sitting in the back of his truck.
There were so many emotions. Anger. Relief. Disbelief. Confusion. It was hard to pick just one to focus on.
“How did you end up here?” He lifted a hand when she started to answer. “Wait. First tell me why you stood me up that night.”
“Okay. That’s fair. They pretty much go hand in hand anyway.” But she didn’t answer right away. She seemed to be trying to find the right words. “I guess you could say it boils down to a boss from hell.”
“A boss from hell?” His brows rose. “Honey, I think you’re going to have to elaborate a little.”
“I know.”
Her words weren’t quite even and he wished it were a fuller moon to see her better.
“Alfredo ran the lounge I sang at,” she began slowly. “I had been working in the back as a dishwasher since I was seventeen. He paid me under the table—”
“What the hell were you doing working at dive bar in Vegas at seventeen?” He cut her off in dismay.
She hesitated. “Well, a little off topic, but I ran away at seventeen. I needed money.”
Jesus. “We’ll go back to that later. Go on with the boss part.”
She sighed. “I washed dishes for a few years and it was cool. But I wanted to sing and he knew that. He told me it was better to wait until I was twenty-one to be out in the bar performing.”
“And so once you were twenty-one he let you get on stage?”
“No. He dangled that carrot for a while longer.” Bitterness enveloped her words. “I was twenty-two before he let me on stage. And even then, he controlled everything about Sin.”
Premonition rose the hairs on the back of his neck. “Go on?”
“Every night he had me straighten my hair—”
“So the curls are natural?” He reached out to touch one loose curl.
“Yeah. And this blonde color is pretty close to my original shade, too.” She hesitated. “This is the first time I’ve been blonde, though, since I left home. The first thing I did when I ran away was dye my hair black to make myself less recognizable. Not that my family ever reported me missing or anything.”
Wyatt reeled emotionally at that casually stated line. Her family hadn’t cared one bit that she’d run away? He was getting the urge to skip the boss conversation and rewind all the way back to her childhood.
But something had made her show up in Montana, acting all spooked and looking like a new person. And thank God she was about to tell him.
“So what happened with this boss? Did you owe him money or something?”
She was silent for a moment. “Not money. He figured I owed him myself.”
Anger coursed through him, sudden and furious. “That’s a pretty stupid assumption on his part.”
“I thought so, too.”
His jaw clenched. He struggled to find the words. Was afraid of the answer. “Did he… hurt you?”
She went quiet again. “No. He made it clear he wanted me. He’d slap my butt during work. It sucked, but he did it to the other girls who worked there, too. I figured I just needed to shut my mouth and keep my job, because I needed the money. I was working on getting my GED and didn’t want to shake up my only financial security.”
“But it got worse?” He stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, trying to offer silent comfort.
“Yeah. He started to tell me I was sexy. And remind me all the time that he’d created me—my new image. The hair, makeup, and wardrobe. He gave me the band. And he scared off any guy that came near me at the bar.” She shook her head. “So the regulars stopped trying.”
Wyatt clenched his jaw. “Sounds like a pretty terrifying situation.”
“Right?” Her words dripped with self-disgust. “I don’t know how I missed the signs. Didn’t take it as seriously as I should’ve. The night you met me he wasn’t at the lounge. He’d taken the night off for a poker game. I thought maybe, just maybe, I could finally be like any other girl my age and flirt with a guy I was attracted to.”
Wyatt knew what she was going to say. “He found out.”
Her shoulders sagged. “He found out. Apparently he had one of the bouncers watching me.”
His heart seemed to stop before beginning thumping faster and harder. He could hear it resonating in his ears.
“What happened, Claire?”
“He gave me a phone to use when I started working there. He’d set it up to track it. To track me.” He heard the catch in her voice and then the bitter laugh. “And he tracked me all right. Straight to your hotel where he found me in the gift shop.”
Son of a bitch.
The possibility of what she was going to say next tormented him. He struggled to keep his breathing steady. To keep his words calm.
“What happened?”
Her voice grew quieter. “He grabbed me. Or grabbed my arm really hard and pulled me outside and out of the hotel.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Didn’t anybody figure out you were in trouble.”
“Not initially. I was in shock and didn’t fight him. Once he got me outside and started dragging me toward a car, I realized whatever was going to happen next was going to be bad. Really bad.” She drew in shaky breath. “So I started screaming, struggled with him, and finally broke free. Then I ran.” She gave a choked sob. “And I just kept on running.”
“Straight to Montana?”
“There were a few places in between, but never more than a couple weeks.”
He hated that he hadn’t known what had happened. Hadn’t been there to intervene. That he’d been sprawled out on a couch with a bottle of champagne waiting for her.
“I should’ve stayed with you. I should’ve—”
“This is not your fault. Don’t take that on, Wyatt.”
Unable to keep trying to appear calm, or give her the space he’d promised himself he would, he reached for her and pulled her onto his lap.
She came willingly. She was so small and curvy. A forbidden temptation in his arms. Especially right now.
He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
“Please, don’t be. I should’ve known better than to accept money under the table. To have someone give me a cell phone and pay the bills. Those are all warning signs.”
“Damn it, you just admitted you were seventeen when he hired you. You should’ve been thinking about things like applying to college, and prom, not some perverted boss grooming you to be his lover.”
“It wasn’t bad, not horribly so at first. It was after the band started doing well that he got a little weirder. More controlling. Maybe because the guys in the lounge would be more likely to flirt with a singer in the band than the dishwasher in back.”
“I’m pretty sure it didn’t matter where you were working.”
“I figured I was safe. I mean he was dating one of the regulars at the bar. I told myself he wasn’t interested in me and I’d just been being paranoid.”
He did the math in his head, figured her to be twenty-three or twenty-four now. Still too damn young. He touched her cheek, felt the dampness of a tear there that must’ve fallen silently in the darkness, and he hated himself a little for judging her so wrong.
*
Claire pressed her cheek against his chest and heard the thudding of his heart beneath her cheek. It was a little faster than it should be and his muscles were now coiled with anger.
“I didn’t tell you this to make you feel sorry for me, Wyatt.” Sh
e traced the buttons on his denim shirt. “I just wanted you to know why I didn’t show up, and hopefully convince you that I’m not an awful person.”
“I don’t think I ever believed that. I don’t care how bad it looked at the time,” he muttered thickly. “But hell. If I’d known what was going on downstairs—”
“You’d have done what? Come down to protect me, cowboy?” She tried to tease.
“Yeah. I sure as hell would’ve.”
“He carries a gun.”
“I do, too.” The three words were swift and grim. “And I can promise mine’s bigger.”
She found herself smiling unwittingly. “Well, things would’ve gotten exciting fast then, hmm?”
He grumbled something she couldn’t quite hear.
They fell into a short silence, before he asked, “Why Montana?”
Good question. The answer was a little harder.
“I remember you saying how much you loved it. How it was an escape from the rest of the world.” She thought back on that day she’d made the decision to go. “I’d been searching online job ads for cities around there. That’s where I found the Bourbon and Boots ad looking for a singer.”
“I’m glad you did. Singing is your thing.” He slid his fingers through her hair. “So you weren’t hoping you’d run into me or anything?”
She laughed at the slight teasing note in his voice and her stomach fluttered that he’d be so bold to ask.
“Maybe on a subconscious level,” she admitted, “even though I was terrified at the idea of doing so. I hated that I left you like that. I knew you must’ve been pretty angry.”
“You didn’t have much of a choice.”
“No, I didn’t. And I couldn’t call the hotel and get you a message. I ditched my phone in the first garbage can I saw. I left Vegas with whatever was in my purse—including the fifty bucks you’d just handed me. Which, I fully intend to pay back.”
“Jesus, Claire, I don’t want the money.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Is there something you do want?”
He moved his hand to the back of her neck to trace his fingers down the nape.
“I want to kiss the hell out of you right now,” he admitted on a sigh.
She couldn’t stop the small murmur or surprise, or the warmth gathered low in her belly.
“But I won’t.”
Feeling more emboldened than she ever had before, she reached up and cupped one stubbly cheek. “Then maybe I’ll just have to kiss you, cowboy.”
Before he could reply, she twisted on his lap so she could press her lips to his.
His solid chest rose against her hand with the slow breath he drew in. When he didn’t push her away, she did it again. Brushed her lips over his and reveled in their mix of firmness and softness.
She lifted her head and looked at him. Even in the dark she could see the heat in his eyes. If that weren’t enough, the evidence that he wasn’t immune was growing harder beneath her bottom.
“I want you to kiss me like you did in Vegas,” she whispered.
“Vegas was different.” He drew an unsteady breath. “You were different.”
“Not that different. Maybe in appearance. I’m not a delicate, little doll, Wyatt. I’m still the same girl who loved the way you kissed me—like you couldn’t get enough of me.”
“And that there’s the problem, honey,” he rasped, tracing his fingers up her spine. “I know once I start I won’t ever wanna stop.”
The butterflies in her stomach did backflips. “Maybe you don’t have to.”
“You’re leaving on Monday.”
It was like he’d taken a baseball bat to the butterflies. She pressed her lips together, not able to deny it. Her car would be done on Monday. But at least it gave them that extra day. Her original plan had been to leave tomorrow morning.
“I am.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “But that’s two days from now. We can spend them treating me like an old friend, or…”
He grunted. “Or?”
“You can stop making excuses and kiss me properly.”
She’d barely finished that last word before his mouth captured hers. It wasn’t a gentle caress like hers had been, but a fierce, commandeering exploration of her mouth with his.
Exhilaration ripped through her, sending her heart pounding and creating an ache low in her belly.
Kissing Wyatt was as familiar as breathing air. It required little thought and felt completely natural.
His tongue stroked against hers, each flick making her warmer and more restless.
He stroked his fingers against her ribcage, before moving them slowly upward. The first brush against the side of her breast had her whimpering in need. Her nipples tightened and her blood heated.
Wyatt groaned and lifted his head, breaking the kiss. “Good God almighty, but I want to stay here all night.” He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “I want to lay you down and make love to you under the stars.”
She sighed. “Even if that sounds amazing, I’m sensing there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
He sighed. “But I don’t have any blankets—so it’d be uncomfortable as hell—and I don’t have any protection. You deserve better.”
Disappointment clawed in her stomach. She gave a small nod. He was right. And though he’d never admit it, he had a rodeo to win tomorrow and it was already pretty late. He needed his sleep.
“I’ve waited this long for you,” he murmured, brushing a kiss across her forehead. “I can wait a little longer, honey.”
“Not too much longer, okay?” She twisted a button on his shirt between his fingers. “Because when you kiss a girl like that…”
“Hey, now, I believe you challenged me to.”
“And you stepped up to that challenge amazingly well.” She kissed him again, and then eased off his lap and jumped down from the bed of the truck. “But you’re right, we should wait. Also, I’m a little tired.”
She wasn’t. Not one bit. But she wanted to give him that little out so he wouldn’t have to feel guilty about calling things to a halt.
“You are?” He glanced at her as he opened her door and helped her in.
“It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, it has.” He closed the door and then went around to the driver’s side to climb in.
It was better this way. Two more days together wasn’t a long time, but it was enough. It was enough to really let this simmering attraction between them build up to boiling point. So when they finally made love it wouldn’t be spontaneous.
“Though that’s good, too,” the devil on her shoulder whispered.
Wyatt started the truck but didn’t immediately move, and she snuck a glance at him.
He reached for her hand again and squeezed it gently. “Thank you for telling me, Claire.”
She made a little murmur and squeezed his hand in return. She tried not to think about why tears were prickling at her eyes as he threw the truck into drive and headed toward the main road.
*
Wyatt had figured Claire’s I’m tired line had been just that. A line to make it easier for both to stop getting hot and heavy. Only she’d fallen asleep ten minutes into the drive back the ranch.
It had about killed him to stop kissing her in the truck. To not slide the denim jacket off her shoulders and tug down the thin straps of her dress and kiss the softness of her breast that had fit so perfectly in his hand.
But the reasons he’d given her combined with the late hour and resonated through his haze of desire. It just wasn’t the right time, no matter how much he’d wanted to make love to her under the stars.
By the time he pulled his truck into the driveway in front of the house midnight had come and gone.
He turned off the overhead light, grabbed her purse, and then climbed out of the truck and went around to the passenger side to open Claire’s door.
She didn’t even stir until he had her scooped up in his arms and had taken a few steps toward her cab
in. Her eyes snapped open and she tensed.
Once she seemed to realize where she was, and who held her, she relaxed again.
“You don’t have to carry me.” Her protest was filled with drowsy amusement. “I’ve got these amazing things called legs.”
“I’m not going to argue that your legs are amazing,” he drawled quietly. “But I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
“Too late.” She didn’t try to slide out of his grasp, though, but looped her arms around his neck instead.
Once they got to her front porch, though, he realized he was going to have to set her down.
He grimaced. “I don’t have a key.”
She dug in her purse and found it, sliding it in the lock and opening the door. She stepped inside and turned to face him. “Thank you.”
“Mind if I come in?”
Her eyes widened. “You sure you want to?”
Unable to resist, he touched her cheek and moved to stroke his thumb over his lips.
“I want to make love to you tonight, honey, but I won’t.” He stepped over the threshold of the door and she backed up to let him completely in. “I’m just not ready to say goodnight. I’d like to stay.” He paused. “To hold you for a little while where we’re not in an uncomfortable truck bed.”
She glanced at the bed and back at him, her expression contemplative.
His lips twisted into a half-smile. “Is that weird?”
“No, I guess it’s just called compromising.” She smiled and closed the door behind him and headed toward the bathroom. “I’d actually really like that. Let me just get into my pajamas and get ready for bed.”
Determined to be on his best behavior and keep to his promise not to touch her, he took off his hat and set it on the dresser then went to stretch out on the bed.
She was in the bathroom for maybe ten minutes, before she came out in the cutest lavender plaid pajamas.
“Not a word on my pajamas. I didn’t plan for sexy.”
He smiled. “It’s cute, and maybe unintentionally sexy.”
She climbed onto the bed and scooted close to him. “You’ve clearly got a warped sense of what’s sexy, cowboy.”
Protect Me, Cowboy (78th Copper Mountain Rodeo Book 2) Page 9