Tyler (20 page)

The last few days had been quiet—too quiet. Tyler’s neck itched, and he constantly looked over his shoulder. He kept expecting his ex to show up unannounced at the ranch with a car full of shoes and clothes.

“What the hell’s ailing you?” Dylan bit out, shoving a precut fence post into the ground and holding it upright.

Tyler jolted. “Nothing.” Man, he had to get a grip and focus on the job.

Dylan snarled at him, but Tyler didn’t look up until he’d fastened the barbed wire and snipped it off. Wire cutters in hand, he pointed them at his brother. “You’re the one with the problem.”

His brother shook his head and stalked back to the pickup. “Funny thing,” Dylan drawled. “But instead of Emily coming back out to the ranch, Linda Lee Baker stopped by the house yesterday.”

Tyler froze.
Damn it to hell.
He never should have fucked or trusted that woman. “That a fact?” Dread slid into his stomach and lay there burning, like Jesse’s gut-rotting chili. Emily had been too busy to spend more time out at the ranch—not that he hadn’t asked her.

Grabbing another post hefting it up on his shoulder, Dylan walked back over to the next one they needed to replace. They’d already yanked it out, and Tyler used the posthole digger to smooth out the bottom and sides of the hole so the new post would set right. When he finished, he swiped his forearm across his forehead and straightened up. It was a warm one.

Dylan set the post, and Tyler thought that would have been the end of it. The middle Garahan brother wasn’t long on words and used fewer on most days than Tyler did.

Hoping his last sentence had used up Dylan’s morning quota, Tyler was surprised when his brother rasped, “So congratulations, I guess.”

Tyler’s head snapped up. “What?” Dread curled icy fingers in his gut and flayed it raw.

Dylan was grinning down at him. “I always thought your ex was just a good lay, but hey, if you’re set on marrying the woman.”

Hell, he was damned if he tried to keep Linda Lee from talking about his night job, and all but leg shackled if he didn’t own up to the truth.

There was no easy way out of the hole he’d dug himself. Tyler’s frustration built, fueling his temper until it burned hot and bright. The sudden need to pummel his fists into something washed over him. Dylan just happened to be available.

Tyler came up out of a crouched position swinging, surprising his brother. He had the advantage until Dylan got lucky with a punch that was low and inside, knocking Tyler clean off his feet. As he sucked in a breath, Dylan grabbed him by the front of his shirt and rapped his head against the ground. A small cloud of dust wafted up before settling back down beneath Tyler’s head.

“You want to explain what the hell’s wrong with you today?”

Tyler motioned for Dylan to get off him. When he did, Tyler was finally able to catch his breath, but it was still painful. After all these years, he should have remembered that move. Heck, their grandpa had taught it to all of them, but Dylan was the only one who ever had to resort to fighting dirty.

He sat up and shook his head. The ringing stopped. “Forgot you don’t punch like a girl anymore.”

Dylan grinned at him and swiped at the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “If you want to blow off some steam, we could still go a few rounds, but hell, we’ve got a good two hours left before we’re finished up out here.”

Tyler let his brother help him up. They’d continued working side-by-side as if the fight never happened. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to ask, “Is that all she said?”

Dylan nodded. “All that made sense anyway.”

“My asking her to marry me made sense?”
Not to Tyler
.

Dylan shrugged. “Like I said, I was expecting to see Emily, not Linda Lee.”

They got their rhythm back and worked in silence, replacing downed posts and trampled wire. Dylan hefted one of the last posts and held it in the hole. “You marrying Linda Lee didn’t make sense at first, but once she’d explained how you’d been calling her every day since she left… and proposing when you two met in town the other day…” His brother let the sentence hang and shrugged again.

Tyler cut and twisted the wire into place. The ice in his gut morphed into a slow burn as the dread intensified. “She’s lying,” he rasped. “When the hell would I have had the time to call her when I spend all my time working our spread with the two of you?”

Dylan stared at him.

“I didn’t ask her to marry me.” His gaze met Dylan’s. “You were dead on, bro. We burned each other up in bed, but that’s all we had.”

“Thought as much.” Dylan hefted another post. “I’m partial to Emily myself, but why would Linda Lee lie?”

To get her way,
the bitch
. Same as she had when they’d been dating. Hell, they never went anywhere except to bed after the first few drinks they’d shared. Guilt smacked him in the back of the head. Maybe he did owe her something, but it sure as hell wasn’t the rest of his life. “I did meet her in town, but the ice cream was supposed to be a bribe to shut her up and make her go away.”

“Didn’t work,” Dylan grumbled. “Does Emily know?”

Tyler’s shoulders slumped. “Not yet.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Tyler straightened up and sucked in a breath as pain shot through his side. “Damn, did you have to hit the same side as Widowmaker?”

Dylan pushed his Stetson back off his forehead and stared at Tyler as if he’d lost his mind. “I’m just doing what Grandpa told me to do,” he said. “Going for the weak spot.”

Tyler nodded. “Nobody ever beat Grandpa in a fist fight.”

Dylan took off his gloves and slapped them against his thigh. Dust wafted around his jean-clad leg. “Want help with Linda Lee?”

Hope speared through Tyler. “You mean it?”

Dylan nodded and hooked his arm around Tyler’s neck. “You just go get cleaned up and head out to work. Jesse and me’ll come up with something.”

Tell them the truth.

He shook his head.
Can’t do it yet, Grandpa
.

“Maybe.” If he let his brothers help him out of this latest jam, they’d hold it over his head and he’d owe them. “I’ll think about it.” Tyler shoved him and snatched the keys dangling from Dylan’s left hand. “But I still get to drive.”

His brother shoved Tyler, knocking him off balance while Dylan sprinted for the truck laughing. “Keys are for wimps.”

Tyler watched his brother disappear inside the cab of the truck. A few minutes later the engine roared to life. Tyler got into the passenger’s side and asked, “Where’d you learn how to hot wire a truck?”

His younger brother grinned and shook his head. “It’ll cost you if I tell you.”

Grateful he had brothers to help with the workload at the ranch, amazed that they hadn’t killed each other over the years, Tyler wondered why he just didn’t fess up and tell them the only job he’d been able to get was taking off his clothes. He had plenty of skills, but they all involved working on a ranch.

He thought about their reaction and the endless razzing he’d have to endure and decided to keep quiet awhile longer. Besides, he couldn’t afford the jail time he’d have to do for killing his brothers, even if it was in self-defense. Well maybe not self-defense actually, more like permanently shutting them up once they got going riding him about working in a strip club. Hell, if he found out one of his brothers was stripping for money, he’d ride him mercilessly too. It’s what brothers did.

Well. That was it then. He couldn’t tell them yet. Just keep on working nights at the club, not sleeping much, and working days at the Circle G.

Dylan parked the truck by the barn. As they dropped off the spare wire and posts he asked, “You thinkin’ about Linda Lee?”

“No.”

His brother grunted.
Dylan’s favorite response.

Tyler smiled. “I’ve got to get to town. See you in the morning.”

***

Wiggling toes painted a mesmerizing shade of gold-dusted crimson, Emily nodded. “You were right,” she tilted her head back and drained her glass. Licking her lips, she sat back and grinned at Jolene. “I do prefer harlot red.”

“I can read you like a book, cuz.” Jolene reached for the blender pitcher and filled their glasses. “You keeping track?”

Emily laughed. “Honey, once I start drinking José, I don’t bother to keep track.” She felt positively loose all over, slightly anesthetized thanks to the mind-melding effect of a couple of margaritas. “No salt.”

“Hell’s bells, Em.” Jolene grinned at her. “Drink up. I’ll do the rim up pretty with the next one.”

Toasting one another and their brightly painted toenails, she drank deeply.

Lifting her empty glass, Emily waited while Jolene poured. “Wait!” Emily jolted, pulling her glass back. Margarita sloshed over the wide brim onto the back of her hand.

“You made me spill,” Jolene grumbled.

“Salt.” Emily licked her hand then drank the mouthful in the glass and handed it to her cousin. “You promised.”

“Oops. Sorry.” Jolene dipped her finger in the pitcher and rubbed it around the rim until it was wet enough then turned the glass upside down in the plate of salt.

Emily supervised while Jolene salted the rim of her glass. After making her cousin dip it twice, she confessed, “Jolene, I’m in love.”

Jolene stopped pouring for a moment to stare at her. “I’d have to be blind and dumb not to see that.” When Emily remained silent, Jolene prompted, “And?”

Emily sighed. “I heard from Ronnie, who heard from Mavis, who’s best friend’s brother owns the Tasty Freeze, that Tyler was having ice cream with that blonde bimbo.”

“So is it true or a rumor?” Jolene asked.

Emily shrugged. “Mavis likes to gossip, but she wouldn’t intentionally make up something to hurt someone.”

Her cousin nodded. “Then I trust you gave him hell.” Jolene sipped and leaned back against the back of the bar stool. “Why didn’t you come get one of my black stilettos to finish the job?”

“Because I got distracted, and I keep waiting for him to tell me.”

Jolene snorted into her glass. “You should never let your glands do your thinking for you, cuz.”

Emily set her empty glass down on the bar and started to push to her feet. She wobbled. “I can’t help it. But I wanted to kick him all the while I was kissing him.”

“You gonna tell him you know?”

“I guess.”

Jolene laughed watching Emily try to stand without swaying.

“Damn it, Jolene. You were supposed to keep track,” Emily rasped clutching onto the edge of the bar for dear life, afraid she’d fall flat on her face if she moved one step to the right or left.

“I
am
keeping track,” Jolene bit out.

“Our magic number is two.” Why Emily felt the need to remind her obviously tipsy cousin was beyond her.

“And we’re almost finished with the second
blender full
.”

Shock cleared her head for a second before things got all fuzzy again. “You’re an evil woman, Jolene Langley.”

“But you love me anyway,” Jolene grinned and divided the rest of the pitcher into their glasses.

“I wanted salt again.” Emily pouted, reaching for the glass her cousin handed her. “Tastes better with salt.”

“Drink up, cuz,” Jolene said. “We’re doing shots next.”

Half an hour later, they’d stripped down to their underwear. “Much better.” Emily mumbled. “Too hot before.”

Jolene giggled pointing at Emily with the empty shot glass in her hand. “You don’t match.”

“Do too.” Emily glanced down just to check.

Jolene shook her head at her. “Bra’s black, bikini’s not.”

Emily shrugged. “It’s a mix and match set. I’ve got another pair just like this upstairs.”

Emily shot to her feet and paused, amazed that she wasn’t at all wobbly. “Besides,” she pirouetted so Jolene could see, “it’s a thong.”

“Only you, Em.” Jolene got to her feet. “We need something…” Looking around at the empty club, she sighed. “Music. That’s what’s been missing.”

“I like George Strait.”

“Gentleman George,” Jolene nodded. “I do too, but then we need something faster that we can dance to.”

An hour later Gwen walked into the bar and groaned, unable to believe what her eyes were seeing. Pulling her cell phone out of her back hip pocket, she hit the speed dial. “Jennifer, we’ve got a problem.”

Ten minutes later Jennifer and Natalie ran into the club and stared up at the bar. Jennifer nodded at the cousins. “How long have they been like this?”

Gwen shrugged. “I don’t know. I called you as soon as soon as I walked in and saw them.”

“How much do you think they’ve had?” Natalie asked.

Gwen laughed. “They’re strutting on the bar in their brand new boots and underwear. I’d say enough.”

“I think we need to get Jo and Em down off the bar and get them dressed before the guys get here.”

“Shit.” Gwen looked at her watch. “They’ll be here soon.”

Jennifer watched the cousins bumping and grinding to Gretchen Wilson singing about a redneck woman. “I think they’re winding down.”

Gwen shook her head watching the way Natalie tried to help Jolene put her good arm into the sleeve of her shirt, but their friend was still dancing and it wasn’t working.

Jennifer wasn’t having any better luck with Emily.

“What the hell’s going on in here?”

“Perfect.” Gwen rubbed at her temple. “The big bad fire marshal’s here.”

Gwen walked over to get between Jake and the dancing Langley cousins. “It’s Margarita Monday,” she said, forcing a smile. “You’re overdressed. Jo, honey,” she crooned, seeing that Natalie hadn’t made any headway getting their boneless friend dressed. “Time to get your clothes on.”

Not daring to look over her shoulder to see if the fire marshal had moved or still stood rooted in front of the bar staring, she gently shook Jolene.

“You’re no fun, Gwen.”

Mindful of Jolene’s elbow, she helped Natalie put Jolene’s shirt on her then together they pried her boots off and poured her into her jeans.

Jennifer threw her hands up in disgust. “I can’t get Emily to cooperate.”

Gwen shook her head. “They’re just a little too relaxed right now to fully comprehend what we’re doing,” Gwen told her. “Let me help.”