Hot and Bothered (17 page)

Damned skin.

Rochelle touched her arm and then lowered her hand quickly, giving him a lowered glance from under her lashes.

What the hell it meant, he wasn't sure, but she was so close that he could smell her shampoo again. Why did it keep reminding him of honeysuckle?

She walked the rest of the way in, and Gideon followed.

Harry spoke above the booze-soaked music. “You don't look happy.”

Gideon forced a shrug and a grin that wouldn't tell anyone much, hoping Harry would buy it, then surveyed the room, even if his partner had already taken a look around.

Only a few customers sat at the bar: locals like Clancy DeForge, who was obviously indulging in a liquid lunch away from the connected General Store. Cassandra, the weekend helper, her long hippy braids swinging, was wiping down the counter.

Otherwise, the Rough & Tumble was no different from always: the same neon beer signs throwing colors against the planked walls and tin ceiling molding. The same jukebox twanging out tunes. The same fans chasing old smoke from the air and the same postcards from Rough & Tumble regulars hanging from the bottle-choked shelves.

Rochelle had taken a seat at the bar with Liz and Ben, but Gideon noticed that she had the best view of Cherry's painting. As he assumed his post nearby, Cassandra brought the group some shots, and Rochelle subtly toasted Cherry before sipping.

He glanced at the painting, too—the devilish angel with red hair, a leather outfit and boots, a mysterious smile.

How much of you is fiction?
Gideon thought yet again.
And how much is Rochelle?

But when he saw Clancy DeForge put down his beer and stare a hole through Rochelle, Gideon's nerves went on alert. And when the shopkeeper got up, smiling and showing his gold teeth as he walked toward her, Gideon was there before he was.

As Gideon cut him off, Clancy halted in his booted tracks. Rochelle tensed up, and Ben got off his bar stool, no stranger to altercations in this place.

Gideon raised his hand to him.
I've got this
.

Clancy spoke. “I only wanted to say something to her.”

“Clance,” Gideon said, “if you'd keep your distance two seats down, you can say what you want. Get back.”

The man stayed where he was, obviously surprised that Gideon, the kid he'd known forever, was talking to him like this. “I just wanted to say I'm sorry for all she's been going through because of her book.”

Clancy started for Rochelle again, his hand out. Even if it was only to offer a peaceful shake, Gideon thought,
Creeper?
Then he pulled the shopkeeper away and pinned him to the bar. Kat was behind the counter now, wide-eyed, no doubt ready to pull out Casey's Special, the bat she used in semiserious situations.

And from the way she was watching him, Gideon wondered if the bat might be for him and not Clancy.

The older, bearded man held up his hands, leaning away from Gideon while Rochelle's voice rose over the music.

“Gideon . . .”

Clancy interrupted her. “Damn, kid, you've known me since you were knee high to a grasshopper. You think I'm gonna cause someone harm?”

Gideon didn't back off, but he did loosen his grip on Clancy's plaid shirt. He looked over at Ben, who seemed to be seeing a stranger in Gideon, and then looked over at Rochelle . . .

Her gaze was wide, too, as though she knew that he'd overreacted for her, that he would do anything for her.

Clancy was still holding up his hands. “Search me if you need to. I'm not here to hurt her. I can't believe you'd even think it.”

“Clancy . . .” Gideon said, mortification tapping at him. He was over the edge. He'd
never
lost his body-guarding cool before . . .

Clancy shrugged away from Gideon, walking around him and toward the front door. But before he left, he stopped, addressing Rochelle.

“I hope you find those people who've been bothering you, miss. If not for your sake, then for
his
.”

Even if Clancy utterly ignored Gideon as he turned around to leave, everyone knew who he was talking about.

The other two daytime local bike enthusiasts who were in the bar—Dustin and Hooper—went back to their drinks. Ben led Liz off her stool, murmuring something about dancing with him to the slow Aerosmith song that'd come on. Kat and Cassandra busied themselves with polishing glasses. And Harry?

He stayed by the door, no expression on him at all.

It was like Gideon had just asked for a gunfight, and no one wanted to meet his gaze now, lest they become a target. He should've felt bad about that—he never set out to scare or intimidate his friends—so what had gotten into him?

He felt someone holding onto his shirt, and he glanced down to see Rochelle looking up at him with those green, green eyes.

“You thought he was a creeper?” she asked. “I know we don't know the identities of anyone else who might be out there, but . . . That was Clancy.”

Gideon couldn't look at her anymore. If he did, his emotions were going to explode, and that was only because he'd gotten so wound up back at the house, hearing how casual she'd been about how she was going to leave soon.

She had him so addled that he had no idea what was up or down anymore. This fact should've been bad enough, but there was an even worse point to consider: Somewhere in all that turmoil, he'd discovered that he could feel. Feel too much.

And the last thing he wanted to do was show Rochelle that this was even possible.

He grasped his badass bodyguard cool and answered her. “Sorry if I startled you, but even if I've known Clancy for years, he was moving toward you with a purpose that screamed at me to get between you.”

Hell, he was going to have to make his apologies to the man for being wrong, wasn't he?

He could still feel Rochelle gazing at him, and in spite of his best efforts not to meet her eyes, he did. He fought the lure of them, struggling to stay afloat.

“You're trying so hard for me. Thank you, Gideon.”

He wished she would just cuss him out, tell him that he'd lost his grip. Either option would've felt so much better than this: the loss of control around her.

He backed away, and Rochelle watched him go. Was she just as scattered about what she was doing to him as he was?

As the music played on, she went back to drinking, peering above the bar at Cherry, maybe even asking her what to do about the possessive cowboy who'd overstepped yet another line.

Meanwhile, Ben and Liz returned to the bar, now that matters were settled. As Gideon kept his distance from all of them, he was glad that they could make Rochelle smile a bit, even as Ben kept glancing back at Gideon with questions in his eyes.

Gideon could've handled that just fine, but then Buzz and Jonsey Burton walked through the door.

Dear Lord, if anyone mentioned how Gideon had unnecessarily jumped on Clancy for Rochelle's sake, he'd be getting more big-brother looks from the cousins. Maybe he'd even be getting The Talk.

But fuck The Talk; Rochelle would be leaving soon anyway. That was all there was to it.

The boys tipped back their cowboy hats, spotting Rochelle at the bar—she must've texted them that she was here—and greeted Ben with a hearty hello. Jonsey kissed Liz's hand, earning a playful scowl from Ben as Buzz, who knew better, merely said a gentlemanly hello.

Then the moment Gideon had been dreading happened—the boys spied him in the corner, blending in with the wall but not blending as much as he would've liked.

Both cousins moseyed over, their boots just as weathered as Gideon's, their expressions just as poker faced.

“Hey, cowboy,” Jonsey said.

Gideon nodded in a fine hi and hello.

“He's on duty, Jon,” Buzz said. “Although, lately, I'm not sure what that duty is.”

Goddammit. Really? This was going to happen here? Now?

“Well,” Jonsey said, hooking his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “He did save Shel from the creeper the other day. He's been doing good on his duty, if we're talking about body guarding.”

“And there's no denying that saving her was a brave thing,” Buzz said. “Then again, we knew he'd be up to this job. Hellfire, he's even brave enough to bring Shel back to the saloon, even if he nearly got real hurt for her with a creeper.”

Why did Gideon feel like one of those guards at that English palace where they weren't allowed to react or smile?

Shit, there was no escaping the boys. He'd just tell them what he and Rochelle had planned to tell them before—that any attraction was just in their imaginations. But something clicked in him, like a heater that was set too high, building up in pressure.

“Gideon and I have nothing going on,”
she'd said.
“Even if we did, he knows I'll be leaving town soon anyway, so why start something big up? He's known I'd be leaving since the day I arrived . . .”

Unable to contain himself, he lashed out at the boys. “If you two have something to say to me, just say it.”

Buzz and Jonsey exchanged a glance, almost as if they'd drawn straws for this moment. Then Buzz clapped a hand on Gideon's shoulder.

“Why don't you take a break, and we'll talk about it, cowboy?”

Gideon only wished that he could be sure if Buzz had drawn the winning straw or the short one.

Rochelle watched the huddle going on in the corner, wondering if she should interfere.

Buzz and Jonsey had no doubt talked this intervention over before they'd arrived, deciding to come right out and ask Gideon what was with all those longing looks Rochelle had been giving her bodyguard. Tucker wasn't here, but he had definitely filled his brothers in on everything, and she was going to kill him.

Before things could take any kind of uncomfortable turn, she excused herself from Ben and Liz, got off her stool, and walked over to Gideon. He saw her coming and very slightly shook his head, telling her he would take care of this.

Yeah, right. Had he ever
met
Buzz and Jonsey?

She draped her arms over her cousins' shoulders, having to reach high to accomplish the feat. “Hey, boys. Maybe you could have a tête-à-tête with Gideon when he's not on my clock?”

Gideon barely smiled, but what was new?

“Buzz was about to take my break with me,” he said mildly. “I'm due for one.”

Okay, but don't you know what's in store?
she thought, trying to convey the message with her gaze.

Gideon kept smiling, clearly understanding, clearly not caring that he was about to be interrogated. And why should she mind, either? It wasn't as if Gideon was going to kiss and tell, setting off Buzz's temper and giving him a reason to get all brotherly and defensive about her being seduced by the town quick-draw artist.

Jonsey took Rochelle by the hand and swung her around, scooting her back toward the bar. “Girl, come on and enjoy your drink. Chat with the Hugheses and leave Buzz to being Buzz.”

“But—”

“Gideon and him are just playin' some catch-up is all. Boy talk. Football. All that.”

“It's not football season. Besides, I watch just as much of the NFL as you do. I'd be able to keep up with the conversation.”

She disentangled herself from her cousin, but when she turned around, she realized that Buzz and Gideon were already gone. Had they made for the courtyard straightaway?

How pathetic would she look, chasing after them? If she made a silly girly move like that, the boys would definitely know that there was something going on with Gideon and her.

It was only when Jonsey ordered more drinks that Rochelle caught on to how her cousins were operating: Buzz had taken Gideon; Jonsey had taken her. Clever boys.

As the jukebox played on with a bluesy John Lee Hooker song, a pack of plaid shorts and flip-flop–wearing tourists wandered in to thicken the crowd and bring the room to a laughing, dull roar. Rochelle decided the only thing to do was try to enjoy drinks with Liz, Ben, and Jonsey. She wouldn't think about Buzz and Gideon.

Not for even a second.

Five minutes later—she'd been watching her phone the whole time, God help her—Buzz sauntered in from the courtyard, taking an amiable glance around the saloon and brightening at the sight of the tourists. He nodded to the old Harley wannabes in the corner and then headed to the bar, probably to whip up a poker game with the unsuspecting naïfs.

All right. Things didn't look too awful. And when Gideon entered afterward, casually leaning against the door frame, she decided he was definitely no worse for the wear. He was even holding that lighter again, flicking it, creating flame, putting it out, and then doing it again. Was it the only nervous habit he allowed himself?

She stepped away from the bar, putting down the beer Jonsey had ordered for her, and let herself smile because she'd been worried that Buzz was going to defend her honor with more than harsh words, even if all the proof he had of something between Rochelle and Gideon was a few hot looks Tucker had caught the other night.

But her cowboy was just fine.

When Gideon saw her smiling at him in relief, he stopped flicking that lighter and attached his gaze to hers, creating its own fire.

A brutal pulse fluttered in her chest, and she held her breath, unsure of how to start it up again. But when she saw Jonsey looking at her from out of the corner of her eye, she made her smile disappear.

Afterglow
, she thought again.
Just sex
.

Maybe Jonsey bought her cool attitude, because he sidled over to a cute girl at the bar—a little birdie thing in a flowered blouse who wouldn't stand a chance in the Rough & Tumble after sunset—so Rochelle seized the opportunity to go to Gideon. She walked right past him at the door frame and continued into the courtyard.

She sat on the fire ring, the ashes giving off a smoky scent, the nearby bandstand empty. Gideon turned and glanced over his shoulder at her, backed up by the saloon's dimness and the jukebox noise.

For a moment, she could only think of how he took her breath away with that badass black mark on his cheek. And he'd sure been acting badass when he'd come to her aid earlier, as Clancy DeForge had approached her. Gideon's over-the-top territorial defense of her should've made even her uncomfortable around him, but he'd lit her up instead. She wasn't used to anyone caring that much.

Swallowing, she attempted to remain cool, like her heart wasn't racing. “So what did Buzz say to you?”

Gideon shrugged, smiling to himself, toying with that lighter while still angling his body away from her. “Nothing I didn't expect. He told me the brothers had been noticing that you have an eye for me, and they sure hoped I wasn't going to take advantage of it.”

“
I
have an eye for
you
?”
That's
what they'd noticed?

He kept flicking that lighter. “I have a much better poker face than you do, Boss.”

He was impossible. “And what else did Buzz say?”

“He warned me away from you, just like we knew your cousins would, then told me he thought there might've even been some flirting going on between us when we were young and he would've kicked me silly if I'd touched you then.”

As expected. “And that was Buzz's way of saying he'll do the same now . . . if you happened to touch me.”

“That's how I took it.” He lackadaisically flicked that lighter once more, as if avoiding the final part of what she'd said.

If I'd touched you
. Like he'd done only yesterday.

How she wanted his hands on her now, wanted to melt under him. Need had been building in her ever since he'd acted all broody after hearing her say that she wouldn't be around much longer and then again after he'd defended her with Clancy.

When he kept playing with that lighter, a blip of frustration made her stand and go to him, grabbing the item and stuffing it into the tip of her jeans pocket for the time being. “Stop playing around with Bettie Page and pay attention to me.”

Gideon seemed surprised that he could elicit such a reaction from her. She hadn't meant to sound needy, but there it was. Neediness of a sort but only for him.

What did he do to her? Whatever it was, it was driving her up a wall.

“Boss,” he said, “you get enough attention in life without asking for more from me.”

“Oh, get real, cowboy.”

“From what we already know, you'll hightail it out of here if it gets too real.”

His gaze darkened as he clamped down on his words. She only stood there, stunned.

He couldn't take it back, though, because his comment was screwing its way into her chest, giving her a warm thrill, making her breath come faster again.

Did
he care?

Thank God her phone rang. She didn't need to be asking these kinds of questions, because the answers would only complicate something she'd never intended to be so chaotic.

She pulled the phone out of her pocket, and when she saw it was Boomer, she held up the screen for Gideon to see.

The atmosphere changed just like that, or maybe it remained the same—the emotion still high, her heart still thwacking at her rib cage.

When she put on the speakerphone, she pulled her gaze away from Gideon's so she could actually think. She stepped back into the courtyard, closer to the General Store, where they could hear better.

“Boomer?” she said.

“Is cowboy there?”

Gideon spoke from right next to her, his expression serious. “Right here.”

“Good, 'coz I've got some news.”

Rochelle crossed one arm over her waist while holding up the phone, dreading what she'd hear next. Boomer's voice didn't sound very chipper. And when she saw Gideon's face—was he struggling with the urge to touch her, even just on the arm to reassure her?—she tightened her grip on herself.

Boomer rushed on. “I think I found us a connection between the two creepers.”

Rochelle nearly popped, but Gideon remained stoic.

The brim of his hat blocked his eyes as he fixated on the concrete. “I thought Creeper Two, that Loralei girl, said she didn't know Bookstore Creeper.”

“Well, based on the research I did, that ain't so,” Boomer said. “I decided to check out some book forums to see who was talking about Cherry and Rochelle, and that led me to several online bookstores. On one of 'em, there was some talk of a game goin' on at some book pages that belong to other authors besides Rochelle. It was like these game players didn't want to post on Rochelle's own pages because they'd be too obvious, especially since the game prominently features cherries. I'm pretty sure they use these book pages as a game board, showing off in clear sight, getting a kick out of not getting caught.”

“A . . . game?” Rochelle asked. “What sort of game?”

“A strange one for certain,” Boomer said. “Remember that old HiHo Cherry-O board game? My sisters used to play it. Taught 'em how to count. They would pluck cherries off a tree on the board and put them in their baskets.”

Gideon's tone was gravelly. “What of it, Boomer?”

“It seems these two freak-o's are hoppin' round different forum boards talking about using so-called cherries as points and putting them in their ‘baskets' . . .”

“Points for what?” Rochelle interrupted, but she thought she might already know where he was going with this.

As Gideon raised his head to reveal his own dire look under that hat, she was sure he knew, too.

Points for getting to her.

Boomer continued. “From what I gather, scarin' up business at a bookstore is ten points. Givin' Rochelle a juice shower is twenty. But it's all coded much better than that, so you'd only understand what they're sayin' if you knew the story.”

When Gideon stepped nearer to Rochelle, she looked up at him. She hoped she appeared strong and not afraid.

“I was able to track one of the screen names,” Boomer said, “and it's a match for Loralei Calhoun, Creeper Number Two. She refers to herself as CherryTart in the game areas but uses TartyCherry on her Facebook page. The coincidence is too much.”

“Yeah, it is,” Gideon nearly growled. It worked its way down Rochelle's entire body, enwrapping her.

Boomer said, “The first creeper calls him or herself CherryLover, and I'm working on tracking that screen name now. But I thought I should call you first, along with the cops who're handling the Loralei Calhoun charges.”

“You stay on that then,” Gideon said.

“I will.” Boomer paused. “Ya know, ever since Loralei was arrested, the game has stopped, and I have to wonder if CherryLover has put off playin' because he or she realizes things went too far. That's what I'm hopin' anyway.”

Was Creeper One afraid of getting arrested like Loralei had been?

They wrapped up the conversation with Boomer, who promised to call the minute he hit on more information. And even though Rochelle was shaken—a game? Who played games like this?—her temper was seething. She could play games, too.

She switched her phone to camera mode and strode toward the saloon.

Gideon said, “Tell me you're not going back in there to do a repeat of the Pink Ladies.”

“Damn straight I am. I'm going to take pictures of me laughing it up in a place that's full of guns and people who aren't afraid to use them. Don't worry, because I'll only tweet madly and frequently after we leave.”

She was at the door, but he grabbed her, spinning her around.

“You want to show everyone that you're not running or hiding,” he said. “Believe me, I get it.”

Was he talking about how she was only going to run from him again? But how could he think that if she'd never promised him she'd be staying?

They stared at each other, and her pulse worked its way down her chest and through her core, then tumbled the rest of the way down until it beat in her center, just for him.

Only for him.

Stay. Yes, right now that's what she wanted. More than anything, she needed to be around him day and night, night and day. She needed his hands all over her, wanted him inside of her, wanted—

Before she could think of what she was doing, she blindly grabbed his T-shirt, yanking him to her, mashing her mouth against his.

Neon vibrations overtook her, flashing on and off with electric frenzy. And when he forcefully wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to his body in an embrace that was just as insane as hers, chaos erupted inside her, fireworks raining heat, and they kept kissing until . . .

They both broke off at the same time, staring into each other's gazes, eyes cloudy with passion, confusion . . .

Out of nowhere, a fist came flying at Gideon's jaw, slamming him away.

As Rochelle heaved in a breath, Gideon recovered immediately, going for his firearm until he saw Jonsey standing there in the courtyard with his hands bunched at his sides.

“Buzz warned you!” her cousin said. “Jeez, Gideon, why her?”

Gideon had his hands up, holding his ground, obviously willing to take more punches.

Rochelle lunged at Jonsey, pulling him back before he could cause more damage. “He didn't do anything wrong!
I
kissed
him
!”