Texas Outlaws: Billy

by Kimberly Raye

  “She took off when I was a few months old. She died a few years later in a car wreck.” He shrugged. “I didn’t really know her. What about you? Where are your parents?”

  Divert and keep prodding. That’s what her head said. Ask him another question. Get him talking more.

  At the same time, she didn’t miss the curiosity in his gaze, the interest, as if her reply truly mattered to him. “I just have my mom,” she heard herself say. “She lives in a little town about a half hour outside of Houston. My dad wasn’t the faithful type. He’d cheat. My mom would kick him out. Then she’d take him back. Then it would start all over again. About ten years ago, he cheated again, but my mom didn’t have the chance to take him back. He walked out for good and never came back.” She expected the mention of her father to stir the usual anger and fear and loneliness, but with Billy’s arms around her and his lips so close to her ear, she didn’t feel the same twist of hurt. She felt warm and wanted and content, and she realized in a startling instant that she liked having Billy curled around her as much as she’d liked having him deep inside.

  Maybe more.

  “I really need to get dressed,” she blurted, desperate for a quick exit strategy from the crazy feelings and the all-important fact that for those few seconds as she’d talked about her father, she’d forgotten all about her story.

  Before she could blink, she found herself flipped onto her back. Billy glared down at her for a long moment as if the comment actually bothered him. Ridiculous, of course, because nothing she said or did seemed to really shake that charming, controlled demeanor.

  Until now.

  His expression eased, quickly killing her theory as a slow, sensual smile crept across his lips.

  “Nah, sugar. That,” he said, pausing to kiss her Hello Kitty tattoo and one pert nipple, “was just the warm-up.” He slid down her body, his large hands going to the inside of her thighs. He spread her legs wide and scorched her with a heated glance before reaching for the ice-cold beer sitting on the nightstand. Popping the top, he took a long swig before dribbling just a hint into her belly button.

  The cold liquid tickled its way across her skin and she shivered. But not from the temperature. From the determined look in his eyes.

  “The main event starts now.” And then he dipped his head and lapped at the golden liquid with his tongue, providing a much-needed diversion from the tender feelings coiling inside her.

  She didn’t want tender. She wanted wild and wicked and hot, and over. That’s what she really wanted. To be done with him. To move on.

  Physically that is.

  The trouble was, she wasn’t done with him. Not yet, anyhow.

  Not. Just. Yet.

  13

  SHE WAS NOT going to watch.

  That’s what Sabrina told herself as she drove back to the motel after yet another exhausting day at the rodeo arena.

  So what if it was Saturday? The day of the semifinals? The ride that would dictate whether he went to the next level?

  Whether they went to the next level and continued with one more week of their arrangement, or called it quits tonight.

  She stifled the anxiety that rolled through her. If it ended, it ended. All the better. She was already having enough trouble getting herself out and about before he opened his eyes. Sleeping in would be a good thing. Welcome.

  No, she wasn’t watching.

  Not only couldn’t she care less if tonight ended their temporary arrangement, but she certainly didn’t want to see him in his element. It was one thing to know she was sleeping with a bona fide cowboy and quite another to see the proof for herself.

  At least when he touched her in the dead of night she could pretend that he was as far from her Not Happening list as a man could get. She could even picture him in a three-piece suit or a policeman’s uniform or something equally acceptable. In the dead of night, he could be any man.

  But seeing him thrashing about on a thousand-pound bull would only confirm what she already knew deep in her gut.

  No, she wasn’t watching.

  She scanned in the profiles she’d collected that day and emailed them to Kat for entry into the database. She did some online research on Silas Chisholm and the bank robbery. Oddly enough, the research didn’t stir the usual ideas when it came to a story. The more she discovered, the more she thought about Billy. But not about his childhood or the crime or a great angle to pursue for the story. Instead, she found herself thinking about the man he’d become. A man so different from his sorry excuse for a parent. Billy was kind and brave and honest and—

  Ugh, she needed to think about something else. Anything else.

  She gave up the research and turned her attention to Sarah. She and Livi were making slow and steady progress signing up cowboys, and while she knew she should devote her time and energy to that, she couldn’t stop thinking about the bakery owner. The woman was lonely. Sabrina had seen it in her eyes. The same loneliness she’d seen in her own mother’s eyes every time Sabrina’s father had walked out the door, which was why she’d agreed to help the woman in the first place. And so she spent the next few hours going over various date possibilities, including Harwin who called bingo at the VFW hall. While he ran his own plumbing company and spent most of his time in overalls and tennis shoes, he had been voted Hottest Bachelor Over Forty at last year’s Fourth of July picnic, which earned him a personal evaluation. While he wasn’t much in the looks department, he’d earned the title—which had been voted on by the single members of the ladies’ auxiliary—somehow.

  Maybe he was the legendary lover Sarah was looking for.

  She eyed the photo she’d found on Google depicting him midcall at last week’s bingo night. Receding hairline. Beady eyes. Double chin.

  Maybe not.

  Still, she had to see for herself.

  Her mind made up, she went back to doing anything—everything—except turning on the TV. She took a shower. She painted her nails. She painted her toenails. She ate three Reese’s peanut butter cups and a Snickers.

  Okay, so maybe she’d watch for just a few minutes.

  The thought struck as she swallowed the last bite of peanut butter and chocolate. She should have known nothing good ever came from a triple dose of chocolate, but desperate times, as the saying went.

  The ancient TV fired to life, the screen rolling and pitching as Sabrina flipped through the channels. She hit the local station and bam, the rodeo arena filled the screen. Thousands of screaming fans loaded the stands and in the center a bull kicked and pitched, desperately trying to throw cowboy number 13.

  Her gaze went to the leaderboard in the background and Billy’s name, which sat next to the number 22. Each cowboy went three rounds, then the scores were added together and averaged for a final tally. Her gaze drank in the two scores posted. He still had number three to go.

  Three more cowboys—all of whom hit the dust before the buzzer sounded—and Billy was up.

  Sabrina perched on the edge of the bed, her heart in her throat as she watched the chute open. The bull pitched forward, but Billy held on tight.

  One thousand one.

  Another vicious twist and he jerked to the right.

  One thousand two. One thousand three.

  The bull reared up and Billy leaned forward.

  One thousand four. One thousand five.

  Another twist and Billy went to the side.

  And then the damnable TV flickered and the screen went blank.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU OKAY?” Sabrina demanded the second she hauled open the door to her motel room.

  It was one in the morning and Billy hadn’t even had a chance to knock. She’d obviously been waiting for him.

  Worried about him.

  A burst of warmth went through him and
he barely ignored the urge to haul her into his arms and bury his face in her sweet-smelling neck. But hugging for the sheer closeness wasn’t part of their arrangement. That, and his shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch, despite a triple dose of ibuprofen the rodeo doc had given him and two hours spent in the training room with an extra-large ice pack.

  “Hello to you, too.” He moved past her into the small motel room and tossed his hat onto the dresser. “I’m a little bruised up but I’m okay.” He couldn’t help his grin as reality hit him. “You watched me ride.”

  “Not on purpose.” She shrugged as if trying to dismiss the truth. “I was looking for Cupcake Wars and there you were.” Her gaze met his and he saw the worry swimming deep. “But then the TV messed up before your last ride ended. I saw you go to the side and then the screen went black.” Concern fueled her voice. “What happened? Did he throw you?”

  “Damn straight he did.” He sank onto the edge of the bed. “But I managed to hang on anyway.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Not so great. Hanging on sideways doesn’t exactly command a high score. I lost major points for losing my seat, but I still hit the buzzer.”

  “And?”

  A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “And I made the finals.”

  “That’s great!” She smiled, and damned if the sight didn’t make him forget the pain in his shoulder for those next few moments as the realization of what that meant sizzled in the air between them. “I mean, um, that’s great for you,” she rushed on when his own grin widened. “You’re one step closer to your dream.”

  “Damn straight.” He leaned down to pull off his boots, and his shoulder cried with the motion. He winced and caught his breath.

  She was beside him in that next instant. “What’s wrong?”

  “Damn bull pulled my shoulder out of socket.” He noted the sudden brightness of her gaze and something softened inside him. “But I’m fine now. Sore, but everything’s back where it needs to be.”

  “Maybe you ought to soak in the tub, or at least climb into a hot shower.”

  He shook his head. “I already had a shower. All I really want to do now is get into bed.”

  She nodded and helped him pull off his boots. A few seconds later, his clothes lay in a heap next to the bed. He crawled between the sheets and sank into one fluffy pillow while she shed her clothes and crawled into bed next to him.

  She looked so soft with her hair mussed and her face free of most of the makeup she usually wore, and something tightened in his chest.

  She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with. Logically, he knew that. But damned if he could recall even one that was sweeter or more perfect than the woman next to him.

  The realization sent a wave of panic through him and he kissed her roughly on her full lips and rolled over, putting his back to her before he gave in to the urge to lose himself in her tight, hot body.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to sleep,” he grumbled into the pillow.

  “But you can’t sleep. I mean, I know you had a close call and all, but you’re okay. You are okay, right? That bull didn’t stomp any important parts, did he?”

  He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Nothing below the waist, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m just exhausted.”

  And scared shitless because not once had Billy been so focused on any one woman. Ever.

  And not just for the past few seconds.

  Her image had haunted him all evening while he’d walked the rodeo arena and watched the other contestants. When he’d climbed onto the bull for a ride that would make or break his career. When he’d hit the dust after hanging on for dear life. Especially when he’d hit the dust.

  For a few seconds as the pain had gripped his body, he’d thought that maybe that was it. That he was biting the dust once and for all. And instead of thinking what a damn shame it would be because he was this close to nabbing his own championship, he’d thought of her.

  Her sweet face. Her sexy body. Her.

  Not that it would last.

  Billy had been there and done that, and while it felt really good right now, he knew it would end. It always ended.

  Better to put a little distance between them until his head was screwed on straight again. The fall he’d taken after the buzzer. That’s what had knocked his senses loose. That was why he was thinking such foolish thoughts, like how he wanted to curl up next to her and nuzzle her neck even more than he wanted to slide into her hot, tight body.

  Holy crap, that bull really had jarred something loose upstairs.

  That, and he really was tired. Every bone in his body hurt. His head throbbed. No wonder he wasn’t thinking straight.

  “Sweet dreams,” he murmured.

  “Maybe for you,” she grumbled as she rolled the other way.

  Billy closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, the effort stirring a sharp pain, thanks to his bruised ribs. He sucked in another deep breath and bit back a groan.

  She didn’t move for a long moment, but then the mattress dipped as she turned over and scooted up next to him.

  In the back of his mind, an alarm bell went off, but the pain was still needling him and so he didn’t heed the warning. He felt the soft press of her lips on his temple and his heart stopped for a long moment. The familiar scent of warm woman and fresh peaches filled his nostrils and soothed the throbbing at his temples. Her arm slid around him and her fingers lightly stroked his rib cage, and it was the last thing he remembered before falling asleep.

  14

  WITH EACH DAY that passed, Billy was finding it harder and harder to remember that this was just sex. Temporary.

  Because it felt more permanent than anything else in his life. More right. He found himself looking forward to the little things. Counting on them. Seeing her smile when he kissed the tip of her nose. Holding her until the crack of dawn. Listening to her off-key singing in the shower. Liking her off-key singing in the shower.

  Sabrina Collins was the last woman he needed to fall into like with. She was out of here in less than four days. She’d made no false promises, left no room for maybe.

  Soon their arrangement would be over and she would be long gone, and Billy could get back to his career and finishing up the additions to his cabin and the stuff that really mattered.

  Not the crazy feelings pushing and pulling inside him. It was time to switch those off and simply enjoy his last few nights with her.

  At the same time, he couldn’t help wanting her to feel the same way. To miss him when he climbed out of bed in the morning, to look forward to his company every night, to want to see him in a capacity that didn’t involve getting naked.

  Hell, maybe she already did.

  The thing was, there was no way to really know because the sex was muddying the waters. She might already like the little things as much as he did. She might like him.

  Enough to stay?

  He wasn’t sure, but there was only one way to find out.

  * * *

  “WHAT IS ALL THIS?” Sabrina stood at the island stove, in the middle of Billy’s newly renovated kitchen, surrounded by pots and pans and black granite countertops cluttered with all the ingredients for Billy’s infamous Hell, Fire & Brimstone Chili.

  “I make it for the cowboys every year before the finals. I competed once in the actual cook-off when I was sixteen—Eli made me since I was too young to ride and he was trying to get me more involved at the arena—and it was such a huge hit that I still cook up a mess every year and drop it off at the rodeo grounds for the workers. It’s my own recipe,” he’d told her earlier that afternoon when he’d stopped by her booth at the festival to tell her they would have to postpone tonight’s rendezvous. He had too much to do to get enough
chili ready for thirty rodeo hands by tomorrow morning. All night. That’s what he’d said.

  Unless she wanted to help him. They could get it done in half the time and get on with the sex.

  And so she was here, smack-dab in the middle of her worst domestic nightmare, because Sabrina had never been much of a cook. She’d never wanted to be after watching her mother slave away for her father, who’d never appreciated it.

  But this wasn’t cooking for the sake of pleasing some ungrateful cowboy. This was just part of her arrangement with Billy.

  At least that’s what she told herself as she moved about his kitchen while he stood at a nearby countertop and seasoned a mountain of ground beef. He’d pulled his shirt tails free of his jeans and unfastened the top buttons of his Western shirt. The vee afforded her a glimpse of silky chest hair and tanned skin.

  Her stomach tingled and her nipples tightened and all was right with her world.

  Sex.

  That’s all it was between them. It wasn’t as if she liked standing next to him, working side by side, as a slow, twangy country song drifted from a nearby radio. It was all about the heat that raged between them. The intense lust. The overwhelming physical attraction.

  She held tight to the thought as she rinsed the uncooked pinto beans and dumped them in a large pot. Thankfully, she could feel his eyes following her as she filled the pot with water and left the beans soaking, to turn her attention to the stove. Her skin prickled with awareness as he moved next to her and fed the seasoned meat into another pot before kicking up the heat. Her nipples tingled. Her tummy quivered.

  He turned and his arm brushed against her breast. A tiny thrill of excitement zipped up her spine. He stared deep into her eyes and for a split second, she felt him lean forward. His warm breath brushed her lips and she closed her eyes. This was more like it. They could forget all this domestic crap and get to the really good stuff. He was going to kiss her—