Do Me Right (9 page)

"How did you know about this place?" she asked.

He slid his hand across her stomach and pulled her closer. "Oh, I came across it a while ago."

"With some other woman?"

He didn't miss the hard edge in her voice. He'd bet she didn't even realize it was there. If he asked her, he was sure she'd say she wasn't the jealous kind. But there it was, that unspoken resentment that he would have brought another woman to this place to do what they had just done together. Come to think of it, he wouldn't have been too keen on the idea of her being out here with some other man.

He opened his eyes and managed to lift his head enough to look at her. "I have never brought another woman out here," he said. "Not unless you count my sister."

The expression on her face made him wish he had a camera. "What were you doing here with your sister?"

"Oh, you know families. I told her I'd bought some land and she insisted on seeing it."

She shoved up onto her elbows, effectively removing the very comfortable pillow he'd been enjoying. "You own this place?" She glanced around them, but of course it was too dark to see much of anything.

"There's nothing much to see," he said. "It's just vacant land. Five acres of scrub oak and cedar."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm thinking I'll build a house one day." He shrugged. "Of course, that takes regular income. More than I'm bringing in from the rodeo."

She lay back down and allowed him to rest his head on her shoulder again. He could almost feel the curiosity humming through her. Women were like that. They couldn't help it. Good thing, too, he guessed. Men weren't good at talking about details on their own, but it felt good sometimes to have a woman draw things out of you.

He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the stars. His wrist was beginning to ache and he should probably get up and put the cast back on, but he didn't want to move.

Theresa turned onto her side and rested her hand on his chest. It felt good there, connecting them. "What kind of house would you build?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," he said. "I'd like a place with some room, but nothing too big. Lots of wood and tile and glass. If I cut a few trees, I should have a good view of the hills. Something light and airy--maybe with one of those open floor plans where the rooms sort of flow into each other. And a big deck out back for barbecues and stuff like that."

"High ceilings," she said. "And a big master suite with a big bathtub."

He smiled, picturing her in just such a tub--one big enough for two. "Sounds good," he said. "Now all I need is a job and the money."

"You'll have those one day. You've got the land. That's a good start."

"I guess so." He covered her hand with his own, aware of his heart beating against her palm. "My sister didn't think it was so great. In fact, she said I was a fool to waste my money on something I didn't need."

"Why didn't she think you'd need it?"

"Because she still thinks I'm going to come live on the ranch with her and her husband."

"Oh. But even if you agreed to help run the ranch, what's wrong with having your own place?"

"There are two houses on the ranch. Kristen and her family live in the main house, but I could have the other one. It used to be a bunkhouse, then it was remodeled for a ranch manager to live there. Now it's used as a kind of guesthouse."

"Two houses." She was silent for a long moment, then added, "Do you know I've never lived in a place that wasn't rented? Even the foster families I was with rented houses or apartments."

He heard the longing in her voice and thought of her apartment, so feminine and decorated just so. He guessed even someone as tough and independent as Theresa had a secret longing for a home. Not having that as a kid probably made her want it that much more as an adult. He stroked her hair. "The tattoo shop looks like it's doing pretty well. Couldn't you get a loan and buy a place of your own?"

"Maybe. I guess.... But the shop is really Zach's. I mean, it's half mine, but I never thought of getting a loan on my half. And things are kind of uncertain now, with the protests and everything...."

He frowned. "You don't think this nut, Carter, will succeed in shutting things down, do you?"

"I don't know. I've heard rumors that other businesses are thinking about closing. And times are changing. There are a lot of conservatives in Austin now."

The worry in her voice made him want to find this Carter character and make him eat dirt. "It's not like you're peddling porn movies or selling dope or anything."

"To some people I might as well be." She sighed. "Tattoos and piercings are more accepted now than they've ever been, but they're still not mainstream. And for some people, maintaining the status quo or their idea of 'normal' is more important than anything."

"You know what they say."

"What's that?"

"Normal is just a setting on the dryer."

That surprised a laugh out of her. He smiled and silently congratulated himself on distracting her from her dark mood. No sense brooding over things you couldn't change, after all. Hadn't he told himself that enough times?

They didn't talk for a while after that, content to lie close together and stare up at the stars. His eyes drifted closed, and he was almost asleep when she said, "You could go back to school and learn a new profession, like Zach."

He didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed that she was so concerned about his future. On the one hand, it was kind of nice to think that someone else gave a damn. On the other, he hadn't asked her to care, had he? "I'm not too keen on the idea of going back to school," he said. "I didn't like it all that much the first go-round. Besides, I'm almost thirty. I've wasted enough time as it is."

"Maybe you could do something related to ranching, but not ranching."

"That was how I got into the rodeo business, remember? What else did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. Horse-trading?"

He laughed and hugged her close. "To be a good horse trader, you have to have the ability to bluff. Considering how much I've lost playing poker, I don't think I'd better risk it."

She was silent for a full minute. He considered drifting off again, but he was awake now, aware of the soft curve of her hip pressed against his side and the warm weight of her breast resting on his arm. Who cared about what he did next year or even next week when the next five minutes held so much promise?

"I could teach you to do tattoos."

He suppressed a sigh. She was as bad as his sister. Was it a particularly female trait to try to solve problems by worrying them to death? He rolled onto his side and arranged his leg over hers. With any luck, he could distract her as much as she was distracting him. "You obviously haven't seen me draw. Even my stick people look like mutants."

Her eyes met his, dark and unreadable in the lantern light, but still they caught and held him. "Then what are you going to do?" she asked.

He rested his forehead against her cheek and closed his eyes. "Darlin', if I had a good answer to that one, believe me, I'd tell you." He'd certainly pondered the question enough lately--more so since that calf had grounded him. Whatever he ended up doing, he wanted it to be something that was his own--not a job handed down to him by his family or one he fell into because it was easy. He wanted something he could spend the rest of his life at without being bored. A tall order. Maybe an impossible one. "There's always dancing with Chippendales."

She punched him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? A bunch of women screaming for you to take it off."

"There's only one woman I want screaming for me now." He levered himself over her, supporting himself with his elbows on either side of her shoulders while he leaned down to kiss her.

She kissed back, arching her body to his. His response was immediate and strong. The urgency of his need for her again so soon surprised him. That calf might have messed up his life in a lot of ways, but he ought to thank the cantankerous beast for this. It had been a long time since he'd met a woman who could turn him on the way Theresa did.

The way things were going between them, he was starting to wish for a long, slow recovery.

Great. Everybody wanted to be a celebrity. She squirmed through the crowd and continued toward her shop, but the sidewalks were packed, which made for slow going. At least a third of the people here had to be press; she spotted two news vans illegally parked in loading zones, and rumpled-looking types clutching notebooks or cameras were everywhere she looked. One of them made the mistake of blocking the door of Austin Body Art. "Excuse me, miss," he said. "What do you think of all the commotion here this morning?"

She clutched her keys in one hand and razored him with a cutting look. "I think if you don't get out of my way, I'm going to give you a free piercing--in the middle of your forehead."

He blanched and stepped to one side. "I--I'll just put you down as a disgruntled local businessperson."

"Put down whatever you like, just get the hell out of my way."

She slipped into the shop and slammed the door behind her. She wasn't in any mood to deal with this nonsense today. She'd awakened this morning feeling...unsettled. Last night with Kyle had thrown her off balance. Sure, they'd had a great time, but then there'd been that conversation about what he should do with his future. What did
she
care what he did with his life? It wasn't as if she was his mother or something.

But for some reason, right then, lying next to him, it
had
mattered to her. She didn't know what to make of that.

She told herself to stop worrying about it and went to feed the cats. She was trying to figure out how to take out the trash while avoiding reporters when the door burst open and Scott lunged into the room. "It's a circus out there," he said, shoving the door closed and leaning against it. "Crazy 'Clean' Carter's actually hired a
marching band
to precede his limo down the street."

"I've half a mind to call the cops and file a complaint," she fumed. "I could hardly get into the shop this morning." She glared toward the packed sidewalk visible out the front window. "They can't obstruct traffic that way, and they aren't supposed to be parked in no-parking zones. Nobody with legitimate business down here has a chance of getting through."

"It's only one morning. Who cares?" He settled onto the stool behind the counter and flipped on the computer.

"You ought to care," she said. "If we don't get customers, we don't make any money and you'll be out of a job."

"My life's already shot to hell. I might as well be broke, too."

She suppressed a growl. She was in no mood for any kind of pity party this morning--not to mention that kind of attitude was completely unlike Scott. "What's with you?" she said. "Last time I checked, you were young, single and reasonably good-looking--though incredibly vain about it--not to mention white, male and healthy and therefore privileged. What have you got to bitch about?"

He stared at the computer screen and idly tapped a few keys. "Why do you think Cherry ignores me? Is it because she's a brain and I'm a jock?"

Yes, we have a winner!
She might have known his bad mood had something to do with women. Or one particular woman. She leaned across the counter and prepared to play Mother Confessor. "Maybe she goes for guys who aren't quite so full of themselves."

He swiveled to face her. "Hey, I'm plenty modest." He frowned. "She's the one who's full of herself. She thinks she's so smart. Too smart for me."

He was on to something there. For someone so young, Cherry was almost
too
sure of herself. Theresa felt a twinge of sympathy for Scott. "I wouldn't call you dumb. You set up that whole computer inventory system and our new Web site and everything."

He frowned. "But that's just computers. Kids learn that stuff in kindergarten practically."

She punched him in the arm. "Go ahead and make me feel like Methuselah's grandmother then.
I
didn't learn that stuff. And I'll bet Cherry doesn't know how to do all that, either." Though she wouldn't bet big money. The girl did seem to be awfully smart. Scary smart, really.

"She plays classical music. In a
symphony.
" He shook his head. "I mean, come on."

"Good point." She crossed her arms over her chest and studied him critically. As usual, he looked as if he'd just stepped out of an Abercrombie & Fitch catalog: artfully rumpled olive-colored cargo shorts, a tight, faded-just-so T-shirt advertising him as Life Of The Party and dark blue rubber flip-flops, the kind she used to only associate with jail detainees and poor little kids. The whole ensemble probably cost more than half of Cherry's entire haute-hippie wardrobe. "The two of you don't seem to have much at all in common. So why are you even interested in this girl? I mean, from the way you talk, you already have more chicks than you can handle."

He made a face. "Well, yeah. But I was just having fun with those chicks. It didn't mean anything."

"And Cherry means something?" She raised one eyebrow. "Come on, you hardly know her."

He shifted on the stool and looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Sometimes you don't have to know someone very long to just
know.
You know?"

She shook her head.

He twisted his hands together. "It's just...when she's here, I can't stop looking at her and talking to her and wanting her to talk to me. And when she's not here, I can't think about anything else. I mean, I went out last night and I hardly even looked at other women." His expression was bleak. "I've lost interest in anyone else."

"You don't think it's just because she's the first woman--besides me, of course--who hasn't fallen for your dubious charms?"

"No. Because sometimes when we do talk, we get along real well." He leaned toward her, eyes alight. "I think she might even like me. But then I'll say something dumb--or she'll make me think I said something dumb--and she's back to ignoring me. Or playing that damn cello."

"Wait a minute. You're jealous of a
cello?
"

"Have you seen her play that thing? I mean, it's downright sexual--it's between her legs and she's hugging it and leaning her head on it and..."

"You are sick!" She slapped his shoulder. "Get a grip."

His shoulders dropped. "I know. I
feel
sick." His eyes met hers. "Do you think that means I'm really in love?"

She took a step back. "How would I know?"

"Well, you're older and I just figured..."

She shook her head. "You figured wrong." The whole idea was ridiculous.

Some of the life came back into his face. "You're not telling me you've never been in love? Not ever?"

"No. Of course not." She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. "I mean, once when I was younger I thought..." She shook her head. Even now, that memory made her a little queasy. "But I was wrong. I was just a stupid kid."

"What happened?"

She took another step back. "Oh, no. I'm not spilling my guts to you. You leave my personal life out of this."

"But what am I going to do about Cherry?"

"Nothing. If she likes you, she likes you. But don't try to force the issue." She shook her finger at him. "If I hear one complaint from her about you harassing her, your ass will be out the door. Understand?"

He slumped over the counter, chin in his hands. "I understand."

She retreated to the back room and took a Red Bull from the refrigerator, then put it back and pulled out a Mountain Dew. A morning like this called for serious caffeine and sugar. Between waking to memories of last night with Kyle, doing battle with the protesters, then dealing with Scott's lovesick laments, she'd ridden an emotional roller coaster--and it wasn't even noon.

She sat at the small table in the back room and sucked down the soda, fighting a wholly uncharacteristic weepiness. Maybe it was PMS, except she'd never had much problem in that area. She knocked firmly on the tabletop.

It was probably all Scott's talk about love. That was enough to make anybody blue. Since foolishly allowing her heart to be stomped flat before she was even old enough to legally buy a drink, she'd assiduously avoided anything to do with the
L
word.

She was mature enough now to concede that all men were not the loathsome, lying scum that the man who'd broken her heart had been. After all, her own brother was a class act. And she'd met a few decent-seeming guys here and there that she could concede might make good relationship material for some women. And Kyle...she'd nominate him as one of the good ones, too.

But that didn't mean that she was trusting herself with any of them. There were too many ways for things to go wrong in the relationship game, and it hurt too much when you tried to put the pieces back together.

Which was why this whole arrangement with Kyle was so ideal. She'd counted on great sex, but he'd given her laughter and romance and the whole nine yards.

Last night--last night had been magic! She'd never forget lying there in the back of his truck, in that nest of blankets, staring up at the stars. A woman could get by a long time on that memory alone.

"Hey, Theresa! Someone here to see you."

She tossed her empty can into the recycling bin and went up front, surprised but pleased at the thought of a customer. Surprise turned to shock when she saw Kyle, his arms full of boxes.

"What's all this?" she asked as she and Scott relieved him of his load.

"I met the UPS man up on the corner. He was trying to fight his way through the crowd to make it here." He set the last box on the end of the counter and grinned at her. "When I saw the crowd, I thought maybe you could use some reinforcements."

She grabbed the phone. "That does it. I'm calling the cops. That definitely has to be 'obstruction of trade' or whatever."

"Sounds illegal to me." He leaned back against the counter, legs stretched out in those tight faded jeans. Every nerve in her body remembered how he felt next to her. Inside her.

She sat down as an operator answered the phone. Only half her mind was on her conversation, though--the other half distracted by a certain sexy cowboy.

"What did they say?" Kyle asked when she hung up.

"They took down my information, but I doubt they'll do anything." She shook her head. "After all, the police are in cahoots with the mayor, who's 'Clean' Carter's big bud. It's a joke, really."

"I did what I could for you," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"When I stopped for gas yesterday afternoon, I noticed the Quickie Mart was having a clearance on those temporary rub-on tattoos. Mostly cartoon characters--you know, SpongeBob and Powerpuff Girls. The guy sold me the whole box for five bucks. I was thinking I'd put them all over me and walk in here one day--as a joke, you know. But when I saw the crowd today, I went back to the truck and got them and handed them out to all the protesters' kids."

"Sweet!" Scott crowed. "All the miniature moralcrats will be inked up good. I hope the press gets some good shots of that."

Kyle looked up at the ceiling, feigning innocence. "I might just have pointed out a particularly photogenic tot to one of the news cameramen. As I recall, she had a Powerpuff Girl in the middle of her forehead and SpongeBob up and down both arms."

Theresa stared at him. "I could kiss you."

He quirked his brow at her. "Nothing's stopping you, darlin'."

So she did, aware of Scott, goggle-eyed behind the counter.

"Um, maybe you two should get a room," Scott said after a minute.

"Don't mind him," she said. "He's just in a sour mood because the woman of his dreams won't give him the time of day."

Kyle gave Scott a sympathetic look. "In my experience, the ones who ignore you the most are sometimes the ones who want you in the worst way."

Scott brightened. "Really?"

"That's the thing about women." Kyle directed a look at Theresa. "They can be really contrary."

Ignoring them both, she carried a box over to the workbench and began unpacking it. "I don't know why I ordered so much stuff," she said. "With that bunch out there hounding us, we'll be lucky to get enough customers to pay the rent."

"It's not that bad, is it?" Kyle came to stand behind her.

"We only have two appointments on the book today," Scott said. "But Cherry said she might talk a couple of friends from school into checking us out this afternoon."

"Then you ought to have plenty of time to do me," Kyle said.

She raised her eyebrows. "
Do
you?"

"Not again!" Scott said. "I told you--get a room. Or at least wait till I go to lunch."

Kyle sat in the tattoo chair and rolled up his sleeve. "I've decided I want a tattoo."

She set aside the box. "I thought you said you didn't need any decoration."

"You've given me a new appreciation for the art." He grinned. "Besides, I hear they're a big hit with Chippendales' clientele."

"Do you know what you want?"

"I want a stallion."

"A stallion?" She arched one eyebrow. Was this supposed to be a reference to his sexual prowess? "Are you trying to advertise?"