Now and always …
The truth followed Jenna back inside, along with her unsatisfied hunger, and ate at her as she tried to pack up the kitchen and convince herself that she was really and truly making progress.
Cleaning up her life.
Changing it.
But deep down, she couldn’t shake the gut feeling that she was the same girl she’d always been. That she was stuck. In the same town with the same reputation and the same uncontrollable urges that had led her down the wild and wicked path in the first place.
If only that notion still bothered her half as much as it once had.
CHAPTER 21
Hunter stared at the ceiling and fought the urge to pull on some clothes and haul ass back to Jenna’s place. The taste of her lingered on his lips, and no amount of evidence, no matter how promising, could distract him.
He’d found a viable lead. The local Ace Hardware store carried the exact lock from the game cam, but they sold very few. So few in fact that it wouldn’t be hard for Bucky Ambrose, the store’s owner, to track all the purchases over the past year.
Not tonight, of course. Bucky and his woman were playing poker with two other couples and he certainly wasn’t going to bail just to help out Hunter. But tomorrow … He would get on it first thing Friday morning and turn over a list of names of all the people who’d purchased the lock since he’d started carrying it.
In the meantime, Hunter could do nothing but wait. And think. And want.
Fuck.
He threw off the sheet and climbed out of bed. It was just past midnight and the night was dark. Quiet. If he’d been farther away from the main hub of town. But he’d taken a place just down the street from the station, directly across from the Dairy Queen. The place was just closing their drive-thru and so the lights were still on, a few cars still left in the parking lot.
He pulled the drapes on the front bedroom window closed and turned to pull on a T-shirt and jeans. A few minutes later, he grabbed his keys and headed for the pickup truck that sat in the driveway next to his regulation SUV. The truck was old. Worn. Hell, he should have gotten rid of it ages ago, but it still ran pretty good and, well, he hadn’t gotten around to placing an ad so the Chevy still sat in the same spot.
A few clicks and the engine turned over. He gave it some gas and listened to the motor grumble and sputter back to life. Shifting into Reverse, he backed out of the drive and pulled out onto the street. Ten minutes later, he was speeding down the nearest farm road, headed past the city limits. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just knew he needed to drive.
Until he stopped thinking about Jenna.
Wanting her.
Needless to say, an hour later he was still behind the wheel, still running from his demons, still wanting her.
He fixed his gaze on the road, but in his mind’s eye, he saw Jenna.
Her face flushed, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips parted on a moan. She was open and trembling in front of him, the scent of her sweet sex so potent and ripe in his nostrils, her soft pink folds glistening in the moonlight.
Hunger knifed through him and he shifted on the seat to give his hard-on more room. Right. He was damn near bursting and there was no relief in sight.
Working at the button of his jeans, he slid the waistband open and shoved his zipper down. His erection bobbed forward, pushing against the soft cotton of his boxer briefs. Fingertips grazed the hard bulge and a gasp caught on his lips.
He wanted her, all right, more than he’d ever wanted any woman.
And she wanted him. That’s what his gut told him, but damned if she wasn’t resisting.
She was trying to clean up her image, to change, just as he’d tried so long ago, and she didn’t want to want a man like him. He couldn’t blame her. That creek ran both ways. She was the worst type of woman in the world, one who called to his baser instincts, who reminded him of how good it felt to be so bad.
Sex, he reminded himself. This was all about sex and the all-important fact that he hadn’t really done the deed in a long time. It made sense that he would be losing his freakin’ mind at this point.
All he needed was to cut loose for a few hours. Just drive somewhere, pick up someone, and stick his cock so deep he stopped thinking about anyone and anything except busting a nut. Just once.
There was a bar on the outskirts of Austin that he’d frequented back in the day. He could drive over and bam, problem solved.
But instead of driving straight and hitting the main interstate, he found himself out by the rodeo arena.
The place was still lit with a handful of stragglers trying to get in a few more precious hours of practice. Hunter pulled into a parking spot and crossed the gravel lot until he reached the main corral.
He spent the next hour watching the cowboys work the bucking broncs. They weren’t very good, but he had to give them an A for effort. Particularly when it came to Hell Raiser. The horse was brutal, bucking and kicking and nearly giving one of the men a concussion.
But then that was the point.
For the horse to throw such a fit that only the roughest, toughest cowboy could survive atop him.
Hunter had been that cowboy once upon a time. He’d been riding his way up the ladder, winning a few purses here and there, hoping for a break that would take him straight to the professional circuit.
But his brother had died before he’d hit a major rodeo and so he’d given up his dream and straightened up his act by settling down and getting a real job.
He eyed the animal, the lather covering the mane, the gleaming hind legs, the power packed into such a ferocious package.
He could practically feel the heat beneath him, the strength, the desire.
He ducked his head into a nearby watering trough and held himself under until his lungs burned as badly as the rest of his body. He came up sputtering, gasping for air. The coolness dribbled down his neck and shoulders and drip-dropped onto his heated skin.
But it did nothing to cool his body temperature. He was too wired. Too damned hot.
Before he knew what was happening, he found himself perched on the corral fence, the horse standing idly nearby. So calm and deceiving.
As if she wouldn’t throw a fit the second she felt his weight on her back.
“Sheriff?” The voice caught him just before he slid down into the corral and crossed the distance to the animal. “Is that you?”
He turned to see Buzz Trayhill Sawyer standing nearby. He was the trainer in charge of the bucking horses. A nice guy in his midforties. He’d been just starting out as a hand back when Hunter had been riding, and now he took care of every bronc to come through the arena.
“Hey, there.” Hunter gave him a wave. “How’s it going?”
“Not too bad. What are you doing out here?” He frowned. “Is everything all right? Jack and Larry aren’t fighting again?” Jack and Larry were two local riders who routinely went at it to the point that the authorities were called and Hunter had to come out and settle yet another Tucker/Sawyer dispute.
“No, no. This isn’t an official call. I was driving by and just thought I’d stop in and see if everything was okay.”
“We’re doing fine. Got a rodeo tomorrow night so the cowboys are putting in a few late hours to make sure they qualify.” He waved a hand at the nearby men. “I don’t need to tell you. I’m sure you remember how that is.”
He did now. He’d locked all those feelings away and ignored them for the most part until Jenna Tucker had stirred him up and made him feel so restless inside.
Anxious.
Desperate.
Buzz smiled. “Want to take a ride?” He pointed to Hell Raiser. “For old time’s sake?”
His hands itched and it was all he could do not to hit the dust and make his way to the horse. “I’ll pass,” he managed, climbing down off the railing until he stood on the outside of the fence. “I need to head back. See you later.”
“See ya, Sheriff.”
; Hunter passed by the watering trough and ignored the urge to duck his head under again and douse the thoughts burning him up from the inside out.
The restlessness.
No amount of water was going to cool the fire that burned inside of him. There was only one cure for that and as much as he wanted to deny it, he knew he was going to have to do something about it.
He needed to have sex.
And he needed it fast.
CHAPTER 22
For the first time in a long time, Hunter DeMassi was out on a Friday night.
Not sitting in a squad car or parked at the weekly VFW spaghetti dinner or watching the local high school football game, but out out.
He sat smack-dab in the middle of the local honky-tonk, a bottle of beer in front of him, a lively Jason Aldean song bouncing off the walls around him, and all because the past few days had been eating him up from the inside out.
Seeing Jenna every night for the past week when he’d stopped by to check in on her and not kissing her again, tasting her, was eating away at his determination.
To the point that he’d said to hell with everything and hauled ass here when he should be trudging through the woods, keeping an eye on the still site.
The questions rolled around in his brain, but he wasn’t in the mood to sort through them. There were too many maybes and could bes and damn, but there were a lot of people here.
He glanced around and ignored the strange tightening in his gut. The sliver of excitement because he hadn’t been inside these walls since last year when he’d picked up old Marvin Shumaker Sawyer, the town drunk and a distant cousin, for forgetting to pull up his pants after a trip to the restroom. He’d exposed himself and the bartender had called it in.
The place had changed little since the call. It sat just up the road from the local rodeo arena and so the place was stuffed with local cowboys. And lots of cowboys meant lots of women.
Locals, he reminded himself.
Which wasn’t a good idea at all.
But then neither was this.
All he had to do was scope out the sea of hot bodies that filled the dance floor and pick whichever one caught his fancy. A blond bombshell with big breasts or a brunette with a nice ass or a redhead with long legs. Someone to take the edge off and ease the damn near constant hard-on making his life freakin’ miserable. A good lay and he would stop fantasizing about Jenna.
Then he could think again.
And after the fact? When he had to face the morning after and whichever woman he’d ended up with?
* * *
He shook away the nagging question. He was past the point of worrying about that right now. He needed to act first and think later. Just once.
That’s what he told himself, but he couldn’t quite get his ass off the bar stool long enough to turn his bright idea into reality. He was the sheriff, after all, and he had a reputation to uphold, and so instead of eyeballing a woman he settled for a beer.
He took a deep swig of Coors, but the liquid didn’t ease the tightening in his gut or sate the thirst that clawed at his throat.
So go talk to Sherri Grimes.
She was nice enough. A single schoolteacher who helped out at the local homeless shelter every other weekend. Exactly the type of woman his Mimi would like to see him with.
If he had to fall off the wagon, she was the perfect woman to do it with.
Except he didn’t feel the same tightening in his gut when he looked at her. No jolt to his heart. No instant hard-on.
He downed another swig of beer and wished with all his heart that he could punch something.
His gaze fixed on the woman currently two-stepping her way across the dance floor with another man. Wouldn’t you know he’d have shitty luck? He’d come to the honky-tonk to escape Jenna.
Yet, here she was, obviously nursing the same bright idea that had hauled him inside the honky-tonk in the first place.
She wore a red tank top that revealed her smooth, silky arms and a pair of fitted jeans that hung low on her hips. Add a pair of blinged-out cowboy boots and Jenna Tucker was definitely the hottest thing in Rebel.
* * *
But her appeal went deeper than the sexy getup. Her long blond hair was slightly mussed and flowed down around her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled. Her skin glowed. She looked as if she’d just rolled out of bed after a night of incredible sex.
Which wasn’t too far off the mark if there was any truth to her reputation.
For all he knew she’d already done the deed and was blowing off a little steam afterward.
At the same time, she’d done her best to resist him this past week so he wasn’t so sure he bought the whole bad-girl picture she’d painted for herself over the years.
He downed another gulp and barely resisted the urge to haul ass across the room and inform her that she had tons of things to do at home so she should stop making a fool of herself and get the hell out of here.
Christ, she was practically melting all over that cowboy.
Her arms looped around his neck. A smile tilted her full lips as she seemed to hang on his every word. Her boots kicked up sawdust and her ass shook as she moved this way and slid that way, dancing as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
As if she didn’t give a shit about her reputation.
All that recent effort to revamp her image blown to hell and back with one sultry smile and a wag of her hips.
* * *
Not that he cared that she was blowing it Hell no. She was a grown woman who could do what she damned well pleased. So what if she was living up to her bad-girl reputation again by fawning all over that guy. She could fawn over any man she chose.
She was a grown woman.
At the same time, it was his civic duty as a public servant to lend a hand to the constituents in his town. To help them out when they were obviously about to make a big, big mistake.
* * *
He was the sheriff, after all. It was his civic obligation to save her from herself when she was obviously about to make a huge mistake. One she would surely regret in the morning because, let’s face it, that guy she was with was a bona fide moron.
* * *
Before he could bolt to his feet, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
“Sorry, but I’m on duty,” he started, turning to see the woman who’d come up behind him. She was sex on a stick, with pretty pouty lips and long, dark hair and a curvy figure.
Perfect for a night of hot, wild, mindless sex.
And all wrong for the sheriff.
“Fancy seeing you here, Sheriff. How about you buy me a drink?”
“I’d love to, but I’m here in a professional capacity.”
“What?”
Yeah, what?
He motioned across the dance floor. “I’m on a stakeout,” he blurted, lowering his voice and motioning her in closer. “I can’t say anymore, but you might want to get out of here before there’s any trouble.”
Her eyes glittered at the thought. “Really? Something’s going down? Right here?”
Actually, something was going up thanks to Jenna and her sexy getup, but Hunter wasn’t going to argue semantics. He nodded and motioned toward the door. “I’d start walking the other way if I were you. I wouldn’t want you caught in the cross-fire.”
Her excitement turned to worry and she turned, working her way through the maze of tables until she reached a group of women. A few words and they all stood and headed for the Exit.
If only he could get Jenna out of here as fast.
He signaled the bartender to bring him a second round before shifting his gaze back to Jenna.
The minute his attention fixed on her, she stiffened and missed a step. She wobbled and the man’s arms tightened around her. His hands snuck around her waist and he pulled her close and …
Ah, hell no.
He pushed to his feet, and just like that, Hunter gave in to a fierce swell of possessiveness. Regardless of what had—or, in this case, hadn�
�t happened in the past between them, right now, at this moment, Jenna was his responsibility.
His, period.
And it was high time she admitted it.
* * *
Uh-oh.
Panic bolted through Jenna because it wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Hunter wasn’t supposed to waltz right up to her as if he had every right. No, he was supposed to see for himself that she was not, in any way shape or form, into him.
At least that had been the plan when she’d first spotted him. She’d initially gone to the honky-tonk because the bakery had been closed, the cupcakes locked up tight, and she hadn’t been ready to go home. To face the all but empty house now and the memories that still filled it.
She’d needed to escape and so, against her better judgment and her newfound reputation as a responsible workaholic, she’d pulled on her favorite outfit and hit the local honky-tonk to drown her mixed feelings in a frozen margarita.
That and to forget Hunter and how wildly attracted she was to him.
But then she’d walked in and there he’d sat and bam, suddenly she’d needed to convince him—and herself—that she wasn’t desperately attracted to him.
* * *
But instead of taking the hint, he was walking straight for her.
* * *
She tightened her hold on Jimmy or Joe or John or something with a J and stared into his watered-down blue eyes. He really was a nice guy. Worked on a nearby farm. Went to church every Sunday. The perfect man to prove her point with and have a little innocent fun.
And that’s all it was. Innocent.
No way should she feel so guilty all of a sudden.
Even if Hunter was headed straight for her, looking as if she’d just eaten the last cookie from his box.
She saw him out of the corner of her eye, a determined shadow that bisected the dance floor and closed the distance between them. Even more, she could feel him.
Her skin prickled and heat skittered up and down her spine. Awareness rippled through her like a wave gunning for shore and it was all she could do not to turn when he stepped up behind her.
Tempting Texas Page 13