Bad News Cowboy (11 page)

Of the fact that while she stayed in her comfortable little place, the people around her would move forward, with or without her.

“Okay, next dress,” Sadie said, all of her authority firmly back in place. “I don't think these are the ones.”

Kate was relieved. Because
ruffles
.

She turned and walked back into the dressing room, trying to shake the heaviness of the moment off her chest. She was just trying on dresses. She needed to get a grip.

The next dress had no straps at all. It was a deep cranberry color, the neckline shaped a bit like a heart. She shrugged off what she was wearing and starting getting into the new one.

“What the hell bra are you supposed to wear with this?” she called out.

“Not one,” Sadie shouted back.

“That's not going to work,” Kate said.

For some reason she could only think about how she would feel wearing this in front of Jack. She would feel naked with just the dress on and nothing underneath it but a pair of panties.

“Just put it on.”

Kate unhooked her bra and threw it on the floor, obeying Sadie's command. She held the dress over her breasts and reached behind herself, struggling with the zipper while fighting to keep the fabric in place. Finally, she gave up and turned it sideways, then zipped it up and twisted it so it faced the front.

There was no mirror in the dressing room, so she had no idea how it looked. She gritted her teeth and swept the curtain aside, walking out into the main area. Liss and Sadie assessed her, far too closely for her liking.

“You have to adjust your girls, Kate,” Sadie said.

“Excuse me, what?” Kate asked.

“Hoist your boobs up,” Liss supplied helpfully.

Kate could see in the mirror that her face now matched the dress. “Why would I do that?”

“So that the dress fits properly,” Sadie said, her tone even. “And so men can ogle your cleavage.”

Kate nearly choked. “And I want that?”

“Kate Garrett,” Sadie scolded, “this is not the time for you to go acting maidenly and modest. We have checked out construction-worker ass together.”

“That's different than trying to get them to check
me
out.”

Sadie waved a hand. “It is not.”

“I'm not sure Eli would appreciate you giving me such advice.”

“He isn't here. And I don't ask him permission for everything. I don't ask him
permission
for
anything
. And I certainly hope you don't.”

“Of course I don't.” But she worried an awful lot about his approval.

“Okay,” Liss said, “lean forward.”

“Like this?” Kate bent slightly at the waist.

“Yes. You reach down into the top of your dress and pull your boob up and push it in toward the center of the neckline.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am serious. This is a valuable life skill. Now do it.”

Kate turned away from Sadie and Liss and reached down beneath the fabric of her dress, following Liss's instructions.

“Okay, do your other boob.”

Kate cringed but did as she was told. “Done.”

“Now straighten up and admire your work.”

Kate did, then turned to face the mirror. She watched her eyes widen, watched her mouth drop open in shock, because she scarcely recognized the woman she was looking at.

First of all, she was a woman and not a girl.

Kate knew she was a woman, but there were a whole lot of days when she didn't exactly feel like one. There was no denying it now.

The color was rich and brought out a lick of brandy color in her brown eyes, reflecting a similar shade in her hair. The dress left her shoulders bare and exposed a healthy amount of pale, slender leg that she had never before given a whole lot of thought to. But the bit that really shocked her was her cleavage. And the fact that she had achieved it. Now that she had done as Sadie and Liss had told her, the dress no longer sat over her curves. The dress was now shaping itself to her body, the dark berry color shocking against the pale white of her breasts, which looked rounder and fuller than she had ever imagined they could.

There was nothing ambiguous about this. It screamed out to anyone who saw that she was a woman. A woman who wanted to be looked at. A woman who was worthy of being looked at.

A woman Jack would have to look at.

Her breath caught.

“That's the one,” Sadie murmured.

“Oh yeah,” Liss agreed.

“You can wear cowgirl boots with it,” Sadie said. “They would look cute.”

“Uh-huh.” But Kate wasn't really listening anymore, because her mind was stuck on what Jack's face might look like when he saw her in this dress. On what he would think of her. On how he would react.

On whether or not he would be able to tell her no again.

She needed to change. And this was a change. But it wasn't enough.

She was ready to do something, something crazy, something reckless.

She was tired of sitting still. She was tired of being where she was.

She wanted Jack. And she was going to have him. The Kate standing in front of her right now could have him.

“Yes,” she said, finding her voice again. “This is definitely the one.”

CHAPTER NINE

J
ACK
M
ONAGHAN
'
S
DAY
had been terrible from moment one. It started when he opened his eyes. He didn't feel rested, and he was hard. That wasn't unusual, not at all. Just your standard-issue morning erection easily solved in a routine morning shower.

But this was no generic morning erection. At almost the exact moment he became aware of it, the events from the night before flashed back through his mind. Kate. Her mouth, her lips, her tongue. Her hands. Her body.

And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't banish those images from his mind. And he could not make his erection a generic one. He grabbed ahold of himself in the shower with the mind to get some relief. But then Kate joined him.

He couldn't even picture her naked. Because he still had no idea what her body looked like.

And what kind of idiocy was that? Fantasizing about a woman when he didn't even have a handle on what her figure would be like. Literally or metaphorically.

Kate was slim and strong, capable. She had a bit of light muscle tone in her arms from all of the hard work she did. A stubborn set to her jaw, brown eyes that were shot through with golden flame, and hair that hung lank and straight no matter how much humidity blanketed the air.

Oh yeah, and she was the virginal younger sister of his two best friends, and she kissed like a wicked little goddess.

There were a lot of things he didn't know, but apparently, he knew enough to fantasize.

To imagine what it would be like if it wasn't his hand wrapped around his cock but hers.

Yeah, he'd given up at that point. He'd gotten out of the shower, unsatisfied and in a foul temper. He'd gone on about his ranch chores in the same manner. Hard and pissed off about it.

He'd figured if he couldn't work his sexual frustration out in the preferred method, he would do it with actual physical labor. Too bad it hadn't worked.

It was a gray day, the air cool and wet. Even so, by the time he headed back from the barn to his house, sweat was rolling down his chest and back.

He let out a long sigh when his boot hit the bottom step that led up to the deck. For some reason as he walked up the heavy wooden steps, he remembered the feel of the hollow metal steps that had led to the front door of the single-wide trailer he'd grown up in on the outskirts of Copper Ridge.

He paused when he reached the top, moving his fingertips over the railing. It was hard to believe how far he'd come. From the place he'd been too ashamed to invite his friends to, to a custom-built home on a successful ranch.

He took a lot of things for granted. That he could talk his way out of trouble. That he could get laid if he wanted to. He didn't take this for granted. Never. Not one day of his life.

The front door of the house opened and his housekeeper, Nancy, stepped out, practically wringing her hands. “There's someone here to see you, Jack.”

Jack frowned. “Inside?”

She nodded. “I told him you were busy, but he said he would wait.”

Nancy was friendly, and the presence of a visitor wouldn't normally have her acting nervous. That was enough to make Jack's stomach tense. He wasn't sure why. Unless he was about to get served or something, but he couldn't think of a reason.

There were no outstanding debts or bills to be paid, not anymore. So it wasn't that, either. Though a holdover from a childhood spent in poverty was a lingering anxiety about bills and bill collectors that was hard to shake.

His mail sometimes made him nervous. Because a stack of envelopes had never meant anything good when he was a kid. It had meant stress. It had meant his mother closing the bedroom door and crying. She didn't think he knew, but he did.

For some reason this moment reminded him a lot of that.

“Did you get his name?” Jack said, striding across the deck and following Nancy into the house.

If Nancy answered, Jack didn't hear, because the moment he saw the tall lean figure of a man in a white Stetson, facing away from him, Jack knew exactly who it was.

“What the hell do you want?” He had never spoken to this man in his life. Had never seen him any closer than across a crowded bar or the street. But he knew who he was. And he knew he didn't like him.

The stranger turned and Jack felt a strange release of tension in his muscles. It was both a relief and an utter horror that the man in front of him was just an aging gray-haired human with lines around his eyes and mouth, rather than the imposing monster his mind often chose to play stand-in.

A relief because who wanted to face a monster? And a horror because it meant dealing with the fact that a very average man held so much control over what Jack did and why.

“I came to talk to you.”

Jack looked around the room and noticed Nancy had made herself scarce. “Well, you don't want to engage in father-son bonding. I know that much. Because I took a fuck-ton of money from you to keep quiet about our relationship. Such as it is.”

“You got that damn straight. I'm not here to talk to you about that. We're never going to talk about that.”

The moment felt surreal. Jack was, for the first time in thirty-three years, face-to-face with his father. There had been no warning and no fanfare. Just the specter that hovered over Jack's every action and decision made manifest in his living room.

“Then what are you here to talk about?”

“I came to talk to you about a horse.”

The hair on the back of Jack's neck prickled. “None of mine are for sale.”

“I don't want your horses. I just wanted to tell you in person that Damion Matthews isn't choosing your stallion to sire Jazzy Lady's foal.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I know the two of you had been in talks. Just about to sign an agreement.”

“Yes,” Jack bit out.

“Then you punched his son in the face, and he's not real happy with you. I'd rather not take a win just because your low-class bastard genes took over your better instincts in a bar fight, but make no mistake, I
will
take it.”

Fire burned through Jack's blood. “I'm only a bastard because you don't know how to keep it in your pants.”

“You're a bastard because you were born one. That kind of blood outs itself eventually. Genetics are important. You don't breed a Thoroughbred to an overused plow horse. The same is true for people. You're the end result of that.”

Jack had a sudden flash of what would happen if he lost his temper. If he hauled off and punched Nathan West in his smug face. He would probably get arrested. Probably by Eli. And whatever reputation he wanted to cultivate would be completely destroyed.

Yeah, none of that made him feel less inclined to do it.

But his feet stayed rooted to the spot, and his hands stay down at his sides, clenched into fists.

“I didn't think we were going to talk about me,” Jack said, a hint of the violence pounding through his body evident in his tone.

“Don't think I don't know what you're doing, boy. I'm well aware. You starting this ranch, stepping on my turf. There was a day when there would've been no question as to which breeder people would come to, and now there is. But it won't last. It can't last. You're not wired to be better than you are.”

“I would punch that jackass one hundred times even if I knew I would lose the deal. And I'm happy not to work with him. Because I have ethics. We both know you don't.”

“According to your reputation, you and I have some similar ethics. You are my son, after all. But your mother's half is the one that will hold you back. Don't forget. You're out of your league. You're only here because of me, because of the money I gave you. If you had one bit of shame, you would have taken the money and got out of town. But you don't have any. So you stayed here and set up a ranch designed to compete with me. A ranch I bought for you.”

Rage flared up in Jack's stomach, molten heat that spread through him, testing his control. “I entered rodeo events with your money. I made smart investments with your money. At this point, it's difficult to tell what you paid for and what I paid for.”

“Don't pretend you earned it. Without me you would be nothing.”

“Without you deciding you wanted to ensure that no other living soul ever found out that I was your son? That's more accurate. Don't act like you did me a favor.”

“Oh, I won't. I'll go back to not thinking of you at all soon enough. This little venture of yours is doomed to fail.”

“Are you going to sabotage it for me?”

He laughed, walking past Jack, bumping into him on purpose with his shoulder. “I believe you'll do that for yourself, son. You already have.”

“Get out of my house. Don't come back here.”

“Which part did you buy with my money?” his father asked, deep blue eyes making contact with his own.

They were Jack's eyes. Staring back at him without even a glimmer of warmth.

His mother's eyes were a light grayish blue, different from his own. This was where the color had come from.

The realization made him feel unclean somehow.

“I think I used part of your money to dig out the septic. You're welcome to come back and stand in that, if you have half a mind. Otherwise, keep off.”

“You do remind me of your mother.” And Jack knew he wasn't being complimented.

“And you remind me of a piece of shit I stepped in once.”

The old man shook his head, chuckled and walked out the door.

It wasn't until the front door slammed shut that Jack realized he was shaking. Shaking with the effort of preventing himself from punching his father in the face. Shaking because for the first time he had been within punching distance of the old man.

Shaking with pure disgust, directed at himself, because in spite of the fact that his dad was nothing more than a prick with money, a part of him had hoped he'd been here to tell him he hadn't ignored him after all.

But no. Instead he'd been here to remind him of something Jack had been doing his best to forget. That he was a bastard. A bastard who would never earn this town's approval. Who would never permanently rise above the circumstances of his birth.

“Bullshit,” he said, into the emptiness of his living room.

His custom-built living room, which was part of his near-million-dollar home on a massive parcel of land. Because he had transcended his birth.

That kind of blood outs itself eventually.

Yeah, like when you grabbed hold of your best friends' little sister and kissed her the way you kissed a woman you intended to take to bed.

Oh yeah, that was bleeding every bit of bad out for all to see. Staining his hands. Hands that had been all over Katie. No doubt he'd gotten it on her, too.

He was ready to put a fist through the wall of his custom home.

The phone in his pocket vibrated and he reached his hand inside and pulled it out, opting to deal with that rather than punching a hole in his house.

It was Kate. He took a deep breath and answered the call. “I thought I told you I needed distance.”

“I'm distant.”

“You're on my phone.”

“It's not like I'm physically pressed against your ear, Monaghan. I'm at home.”

“Calling me is not distance.”

“What happened to you? You sit on your spurs?”

“I got a visit from my dad,” he said, his voice hard. He had not intended to tell her that. He hadn't intended to tell anyone that. Because he could never tell anyone that Nathan West was his father. So what was the point in bringing it up at all? There was no point. There was no point to any of this. To wanting his approval, to believing anything that he said. And yet he couldn't erase the words the old man had spoken into the room.

Bastard. Bad blood. Bastard. Bad blood.

“I'm coming over,” she said, no hesitation at all.

“That would be doing a pretty piss-poor job of distance.”

“You shouldn't be alone.”

“It's a great time to be alone with a bottle of alcohol.”

“Connor and Eli would be lousy at helping you deal with this.”

“I don't need help dealing with anything.”

“Clearly not. You sound extremely well adjusted at the moment.”

“I don't need to talk right now,” he said, his bad blood boiling over now. That was what was driving him. No question. “I could use your mouth for one thing right about now, and it isn't talking.”

He hated himself more than ever. For proving his father's point, for believing him. But he didn't know what else to do. Didn't know how else to be.

And hell, his dad was right. He was doing a good job building his business, and he'd punched that asshole Chad in the face and lost himself a lot of money. He couldn't even blame it on the fact that he'd simply forgotten the connection between Chad and his father. Even if he had remembered that Chad was Damion Matthews's son, he would have punched the ever-loving hell out of him because of the way he'd talked about Kate.

Because that was who he was.

The silence on the other end of the phone spoke volumes about the fact that he'd finally gone over the line. Good. Maybe she would stop messing with him now. Maybe she would understand just who it was she was dealing with.

As long as she'd been a little sister to him, she'd been safe. But she was determined to play with fire, and he needed her to understand the fire burned.

“I'm coming over, Jack,” she said finally, her tone even.

“I'm telling you right now, Katie,” he said, his voice rough as he searched for just the right words to make sure she would stay away, “if you come over tonight, you're not leaving my house a virgin.”

Silence settled heavy between them, no sound but her breathing coming over the other end of the phone. And then the line went dead.