Tempting Texas

by Kimberly Raye

  “Hold it right there.” He jabbed Hunter again, bringing him to a dead stop. “Down on your knees.”

  Hunter didn’t move for a long second until the rifle pressed into the back of his head. “Down or I’ll shoot you where you stand and then let the dogs have what’s left. No medical examiner will be able to make heads or tails of you after that.”

  Hunter hit the dirt and watched as Boris came around him, the gun still pointed at Hunter’s head. The man backed up to the shed. A smile and the man brought the gun up and bashed the lock in with the butt of his gun as if Hunter had been looking around and tried to get in himself.

  Just like that, the door opened.

  Boris whistled and the dogs sprang into action.

  Hunter went for his gun, but he was too late. Teeth closed around his wrist and he fell backward.

  The next few seconds passed in a rush of white-hot pain and dripping blood, followed by several loud gunshots.

  When Hunter managed to open his eyes, he saw Boris standing above him, a crazed look on his face as he stared past Hunter to some unknown point behind.

  “You killed my dogs, you sonofabitch!” he wailed.

  He raised the rifle and took aim. A shot rang out and Hunter waited to feel the bullet rip into his flesh.

  Instead, he watched as Boris stumbled backward. Dirt sprayed as deadweight hit the ground with a thud, a bright red stain spreading across the man’s T-shirt.

  “Sheriff?” Bobby’s voice rang out. “Are you okay?”

  Hunter got to his feet, gun in hand as he nudged Boris to make sure the man was down for good. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. You look like chewed-up kibble. At least your arm does.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “We’d better call an ambulance.”

  “That would be a good idea,” Hunter said, his vision starting to blur. He was dripping an awful lot of blood.

  “I guess that means you won’t be able to double-date tonight?” Bobby went on as if they were just wrapping up any given day at the office. “Kaitlyn was really hoping…”

  “Can’t,” Hunter managed before the darkness overtook him. “I’m already seeing someone.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” And then he closed his eyes and let the blackness overwhelm him.

  * * *

  “It’s about time you woke up.” Jenna’s familiar voice pushed through the nothingness that engulfed Hunter and drew him back to the hospital room and the woman sitting beside his bed. “I stopped by the station and Marge told me what happened. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “A little chewed up, but I’ll make it.” He ignored the crazy stutter of his heart because she was here, now, and suddenly there was too much to say and not enough words. He swallowed against the burning in his throat and fought to find them anyway. “I need to tell you something.”

  “Bobby already did. He said Boris confessed that he killed my granddad.”

  He nodded. “He wanted him out of the way so that he was the only one making moonshine in this county.”

  “But James Harlin barely made enough to get him into a Friday night card game down at the VFW Hall. He couldn’t have been much of a threat.”

  * * *

  “It doesn’t matter. He was still competition.” He noted the brightness of her eyes and added, “I’m really sorry.”

  “Thanks.” She sniffled. “And thanks for not giving up on the truth. I know you kept looking into it when you didn’t have to. Everyone else wanted to write it off as an accident.”

  “I needed to know.”

  The digging deep, the figuring things out, the knowing brought the same rush of excitement that he’d felt all those years ago when he’d climbed onto a bucking bronc. That’s why he’d buried himself in his work for so long. Because it satisfied the rush.

  Almost.

  “How’s the reconstruction?” he managed.

  “You mean remodel.” Her smile was small but genuine and he felt the weight on his chest lift a little “I didn’t tear down the house.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “It is. I love that house. I know it’s a crappy thing to love, but I do.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Anyhow, I just wanted to make sure you were okay and say thanks for everything you’ve done.”

  “Just doing my job.”

  Disappointment twisted her face for a long moment, as if she’d wanted him to say something else. But then she shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “How’s my favorite patient today?” Marge’s voice disrupted the awkward silence that settled between them as the older woman waltzed in with a bouquet of balloons and three women he didn’t recognize.

  “Oh, hey, Jenna,” said one of the women.

  “Hi, Ruth Ann.”

  “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just thought you could use a little company,” Marge told Hunter. “This is Carol Foster, Ruth Ann Tucker, and Darla Stanford. They work down at the RV dealership. Ruth Ann’s dad is the owner. They’re just dying to meet the man who took down the most ruthless moonshiner in this town’s history.”

  “I don’t know about ruthless,” Hunter started, his gaze fixed on Jenna who inched backward as if trying to shrink away from the crowd. She gave him a little wave and then she turned.

  He opened his mouth to stop her, to say something—anything—but then Ruth Ann closed in and the moment was lost.

  “Boris was a brutal man,” she said. “I’d love to hear how you took him down.”

  “So would I.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I’ll just set these here”—Marge placed the teddy bear attached to the balloons on Hunter’s tray table—“and give you four some time to yourselves. Don’t go getting engaged before I get back now,” she murmured with a wink and Hunter knew she’d decided not to let her last three weeks pass idly by. She was going to find him a wife on her own.

  And these were the first three candidates.

  If only he’d wanted any of them half as much as he wanted Jenna Tucker.

  CHAPTER 33

  Kim Bowman damned herself a thousand times.

  It was just supposed to be dinner. They’d both been picking through the food choices at the reception following Clara Bell Sawyer’s funeral, and there’d been nothing that didn’t involve cheese or bread crumbs or cream of mushroom soup.

  She’d needed a healthy dinner.

  Dinner, not dessert.

  But she’d been trying to avoid the whole chemistry connection for so long that she’d forgotten how powerful it could be. How one thing could lead to another.

  How a simple dinner could go straight to a rich, decadent dessert.

  Boy, had she ever.

  She closed her eyes, relishing the strong, callused hands that slid over her, tugging at her buttons, pushing at her undies, scraping across her flesh.

  Goose bumps danced over her skin and she shivered despite the warm night air.

  “Hold up,” Carter Walls said, pulling away. “We’re both wearing way too many clothes.”

  He fixed the situation in less than a minute, tugging off his shirt, pitching his jeans and boxer briefs.

  She didn’t mean to look. She wanted to refuse to give herself a moment to regret or lose her nerve, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Her gaze drank him in, his broad chest and flat brown nipples surrounded by dark hair. His legs were long and thick with muscles. His arousal was huge and hard, and her heart paused for a long breathless moment.

  If she’d thought for even five seconds that he was more of an intellectual with his IT background, she’d been wrong. This guy was pure cowboy, from his ripped biceps to the hard planes of his abdomen, to his corded thighs.

  But then the looking was over and the speed picked up again. He reached for her. Flesh met hot flesh and she stopped thinking altogether.

  She felt the moist heat of his breath on her breast and then his lips closed over
her nipple.

  He licked and suckled and nibbled. Sensation skittered along her nerve endings and she forgot all about wanting to feel his lips on her own. Heat pooled low in her belly, making her thighs tremble and her hands quiver. Then his mouth opened and he drew her deeper, sucking hard. Sensation flooded through her, crashing over her in huge waves.

  Hands skimmed down her back, around her waist, her rib cage. He moved lower until strong fingers slid between her legs, into her slick flesh. He stroked and coaxed until a shameless moan burst from her lips.

  He touched her just so and desire pounded through her as fiercely as a summer storm. Fierce and drenching all at once, yet oddly rejuvenating.

  When he slipped a finger into her and pushed deep, she cried out. Her trembling turned to shaking as her entire body reacted to the invasion, her nerves humming from the incredible need swamping her senses.

  Her hands stroked up and down his back, grasping his hard, muscled buttocks before she circled his hips. She’d barely brushed his erection when she found her wrist caught in a tight grip …

  “No,” he groaned. “It’s been too long and there’s no way this is going to go slow if you touch me.”

  Too long?

  No, she was the one who’d gone too long. She didn’t do this kind of thing. She was into nice, not wild and wicked and dangerous.

  But she felt all three at the moment, and suddenly she couldn’t help herself. “Do it,” she begged. “Do it right now.” The desperation in her voice surprised her, but she was beyond caring. She trembled and throbbed and ached so badly. “Please.”

  He scooped her into his arms and headed for her bedroom. The mattress met her back and then he disappeared. A few minutes later, he reappeared, condom in hand and slid the latex down his engorged length. He covered her then, spreading her legs wide and positioning himself.

  The voluptuous head of his hot erection nudged her slick opening and every nerve in her body jumped to full alert. His chest heaved, crushing her tender breasts as he fought to drag air into his lungs.

  “Christ, I don’t know what it is about you,” he murmured, staring at her as if she were some impossible puzzle he just couldn’t begin to solve, and then the contemplation ended. He thrust into her, stretching and filling and, ahhh …

  “Wrap your legs around me,” he murmured, and she quickly complied, the motion drawing him deeper. So deliciously deep.

  Carter reached under her and clasped her hips, angling her as he withdrew and thrust into her again. And again.

  This was it.

  She’d meant to lay back and enjoy every touch, every sound, to commit it to memory for all the so-so encounters with Gabe or Benny or whoever she ended up with.

  She couldn’t.

  Despite the intense pleasure he was giving her, she suddenly wanted more. She wanted him harder and deeper and faster and she couldn’t help herself. She clutched his slick shoulders, his back, his buttocks, lifted her pelvis and matched his rhythm. Her nipples rubbed against the soft hair on his chest, sending ripples of heat through her body. The pressure built as he pumped into her, pushing her higher. Like a fierce lightning flash, the pressure hit. Her back arched and she shattered. Wave after wave of luscious heat rolled over her, through her. Her muscles contracted, gripping him tight and wringing a deep groan from him.

  He quickly followed her over the edge, his muscles as hard as granite as he plunged into her one last, sweet time. He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, his heart thundering in sync with her own.

  He slid his strong arms around her, rolled over, and gathered her close, and contentment unlike anything she’d ever felt before rushed through her. She snuggled deeper into Carter’s embrace and closed her eyes.

  And then she cursed the Powers That Be for sending her the wrong man. And for making him feel so right.

  CHAPTER 34

  “This is it,” Jenna told Callie and Brandy as she set the box on one of the tables at Sweet Somethings. The bakery had closed up shop over an hour ago and the place sat empty. “Everything James Harlin kept hidden away at the house.”

  Hidden because their granddad hadn’t been a man to show his feelings. He hadn’t liked feeling, period. Not since he’d lost his precious wife all those years ago.

  He’d hurt so bad after the loss that he’d retreated into a bottle and while Jenna had been too young to understand what he’d been thinking at the time, it was more than evident now.

  James Harlin Tucker had been determined to numb himself. To keep from feeling ever again so that he didn’t have to go through the same pain that had nearly destroyed him when he’d buried his beloved.

  And so he’d kept his distance from any and everyone after that, particularly the three little girls who’d invaded his home, and his heart.

  She knew that now after uncovering all of the small things hidden away in the back of his dresser drawers and the empty spaces under his bed and the deep recesses of his closet.

  And it was high time her sisters knew as well.

  She watched as Callie reached into the box and retrieved a faded drawing that sat on top. “I did this at Vacation Bible school back when I was eight.” She eyed the red crayon depiction of their house, along with the barn out back and the old man sitting in his rocker on the front porch. “I thought he threw this away.”

  “He didn’t throw anything away,” Jenna told them. She grabbed a small baggie filled with some dried up wildflowers that had long since withered and faded, and handed them to a stunned Brandy. “You gave these to him on his birthday. You remember that?”

  The shock turned to soft wonder as her sister’s eyes brightened. “I don’t understand.”

  “He wasn’t a jackass because he couldn’t help it. He was a jackass because it was easier. He didn’t want to feel anything for us.”

  “But he did,” Jenna pointed out. “That’s why he kept all of this stuff. Because it meant something. He just didn’t want to admit it. To feel it.”

  “To hurt,” Callie added. “Mama used to tell me how much he cried at grandma’s funeral. I never believed her. He was always so cold and stoic, except when he was drinking. And then he was just a downright jerk.”

  “Being a jerk kept us at arm’s length,” Jenna said. “It wasn’t the right thing to do, but that’s what he did. The important thing is that we know he loved us.”

  Brandy reached into the box and retrieved another drawing. This one depicting a birthday cake she’d done for him ages ago. “He did. In his own way, he did.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Callie said. “It doesn’t change what an asshole he was.”

  But it did.

  Jenna could see it in the softness of her eldest sister’s eyes, the small smile that played on her lips when she retrieved a tiny braided key chain she’d made as a Christmas present for him back when she’d been in the second grade.

  It changed things for Callie, all right. And Brandy, as well, who sniffled as she stared at the stack of recipe cards she’d given him for yet a different birthday with all of his favorite foods written in green crayon and the promise to one day make each and every one for him.

  “I never thought he cared about any of this.”

  “He did. James Harlin cared about us,” Jenna said, retrieving the miniature American Girl doll from one of the McDonald’s Happy Meals he’d bought for her. “He loved us.”

  And for the first time, the three Tucker sisters actually believed it.

  * * *

  He wasn’t going after her.

  Hunter steeled himself against the nearly overwhelming urge and watched as she disappeared inside the motel room. While Jenna had decided not to demolish the house, she’d still had to move out for the reconstruction.

  She’d moved in right next door to the Dairy Freeze, directly across the street from the station and so he’d seen her each and every day since he’d returned to work last week after being released from the hospital.

  The longest week of his
life as he’d wrestled with his feelings and the truth—that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Jenna Tucker. Not now.

  Not ever.

  He’d finally decided to stop with all the pleasantries and tell her that he still wanted her. That he didn’t want to want her, but he did, and there it was.

  She hadn’t been nearly as receptive as he’d hoped.

  “Are you kidding me?” she’d demanded. “You want to pick up where we left off?”

  He’d meant it to sound much more romantic, but when she’d repeated his words back to him, he’d realized how fucked up it had all sounded.

  That’s not the only thing he wanted.

  The door shut and the lights flicked on inside and still, he didn’t move.

  It’s over, buddy. She said so. You said so. Get over it.

  He wanted to.

  He wanted to turn and walk away the way he would have with any other woman.

  But this was Jenna.

  She was different. Special.

  The truth rumbled from down deep, stirring a rush of denial as fierce as the emotion himself. Special? Hell, no. She was no such thing. She was like any other woman and no way did he actually love her.

  * * *

  Love wasn’t in the cards for them any more than it had been for Clara Bell and Shorty.

  Shorty had been a sucker. Loving a woman who’d loved another. Loving her for so many years even though she didn’t love him back.

  As much as he wanted to condemn Shorty for being so foolish, he couldn’t.

  Because he knew how the old man felt. He knew what it was like to want to make someone else happy.

  He fought the truth and turned on his heel. He didn’t love her and she didn’t love him, and that was good.

  Easier.

  He held tight to the thought, climbed into his SUV, and headed back to work.

  If only he could shake the feeling that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

  CHAPTER 35

  Jenna had spent the night tossing and turning and replaying her last conversation with Hunter. And wishing with all of her heart that it had gone differently.

  That he hadn’t asked to pick up where they’d left off because she didn’t just want to fall back into bed with him.