Oak, Sophie - Siren in Waiting [Texas Sirens 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (8 page)

She wasn’t going to go in. Well, maybe just for a moment. After all, she had ridden her bike over three miles to get here.

Surely it couldn’t hurt too much to just walk inside and see what was going on. She walked the bike up the gravel road. The honky-tonk was nothing more than a prefab building. It wasn’t big. No bigger than a house really. The neon red sign illuminated the parking lot. It proudly claimed that this establishment was The Rusty Spur. The walls fairly vibrated with twangy, bouncy country music.

She’d already spied Bo’s truck in the parking lot. He was here. He was probably drinking with his buddies. He had muttered an apology as he’d dropped her off, but he’d still held to his plans for the evening. Bo’s plans included Clarissa Gates.

The door opened, and music seemed to spill out. Two women dressed in tight jeans stumbled into the parking lot.

“Are you sure you want to share him?” the girl in the white jeans asked.

There was a loud laugh as the second woman lit a cigarette. “Trust me, Melody, Bo O’Malley can keep up with two women. Did you see the look on his face when I suggested it? I think he died and went to heaven.”

Mouse tried to shrink into the background. Clarissa and her friend, Melody, stood just outside the doorway. Clarissa looked ready for action. Her blonde hair was teased sky-high, and her jeans looked painted on. She was the picture of a small-town princess walking on the wild side. She took a long drag on her cigarette.

“I think after I get through with old Bo, I might have to give Trev a whirl. My big sister said he was a stud back in high school.”

Trev McNamara. Mouse had sat across from him all through dinner. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. Of course, she had a little streak of masochism. She’d stolen glances all night. Trev was a huge man. He’d looked almost too big for the booth, but he hadn’t complained or seemed uncomfortable. His shoulders were broad. His face looked like it should be on a movie screen. He had dark hair that was just a little long. It curled over his ears. His deep-blue eyes had seemed on the weary side as though he’d had as much of the world as he could take, yet he kept on. But when he’d smiled at her, those eyes had lit up, and she hadn’t thought about Bo for a little while.

Idiot
. If she couldn’t handle Bo, she definitely couldn’t handle a former star quarterback.

And it looked like it took two women to really handle Bo.

“Well, don’t let anyone know about that. You don’t want to get a reputation,” Melody complained.

Clarissa’s laugh split the air. “I already got a reputation, hon. I’m just making damn sure I live up to it. Now, how about we get Bo and show him a real nice time.”

The women tossed their cigarettes to the ground and turned to go inside. Mouse breathed a sigh of relief.

“Is that Mouse Hobbes?”

Oh, Mouse wished she’d stayed at home.

Clarissa cocked her head. “Mouse, what the hell are you doing here?”

There was nothing to do but brazen her way through. “I thought I would get a beer.”

Clarissa’s eyes rolled. “No, I think you thought you would pull your crying act and get Bo to come home with you. Do you have any idea how pathetic you are? Everyone in the county laughs about it. You just follow that man around like a sad little puppy. He’s never going to fuck you, hon. He likes real women, not pathetic little losers.”

Melody shook her head. “It’s so sad how you use that man. He can’t have a real life because he feels sorry for you.”

Clarissa stepped forward, her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t talking to him tonight, Mouse. In fact, as long as he’s with me, I don’t think I want you around him at all.”

“Bethany?”

Tears blurring her eyes, she turned at the deep voice calling her name. Trev stepped out of the shadows looking long and lean and slightly dangerous.

“I thought we were going to meet out back. I was worried you had stood me up. Now, come on. Let’s get out of here. You know I can’t hang out in a bar.” He held out his big, callused hand.

It was the second time in one day that he’d saved her.

Clarissa took a step back. Her mouth firmed as she looked him over. “Damn, Trev. You look fine. How are you doing? And what are you doing here? I should have known all that sobriety shit was for show. Nothing ever stopped Trev McNamara from having a good time. Hey, dump the mouse and come inside with us.”

Mouse waited for him to do exactly that, but his hand pulled her close. His arm went around her waist. She felt tiny and petite next to him. Her head barely came to his shoulders.

“I think we’ll pass. I want to spend time with Beth. I don’t think this establishment is good enough for her. After all, I’ve seen the clientele.”

Clarissa’s mouth dropped open. “You’re a bastard, Trev.”

“Everyone knows that,” he replied.

Mouse didn’t. Mouse was pretty sure he was her guardian angel. Clarissa turned on her heels and flounced back into the bar, Melody right behind her.

Trev immediately stepped back, and Mouse missed the heat of his body.

“I’m sorry, Beth. I didn’t think about how this was going to look. She’s probably going to march in there and start telling the tale about how she saw you with me. I wasn’t thinking. I just heard what she said, and I couldn’t let her get away with it.” His deep voice had a gravely quality to it that she found oddly soothing even when he was stumbling over words to apologize.

She stared down at his boots because she worried she might drool if she kept looking at his face. “It’s okay. The worst that might happen is they think old Mouse Hobbes finally found someone who can stand to sleep with her.”

His hand came out, and he lifted her chin. She was shocked at the dark look on his face. His hands came down and curled around her shoulders, his grip the slightest bit harsh. It got her attention.

“Don’t you dare say such things about yourself. Not around me. And your name is Bethany.”

Her heart did an odd pitter-pat, like it couldn’t quite find a rhythm. “I like Beth better.”

His mouth curved up, and the hands on her shoulders relaxed. “All right then, Beth. No more Mouse. And no more calling yourself old. God, girl, you’re practically a baby compared to me. Spare an old man, please.”

She snorted. She just did it from time to time. “Yes, Trevor. You look like an old man.”

“I feel it. Never doubt that I feel it.” His face closed off, and she wished he was smiling again. “Did you drive here? I’ll follow you home. This really isn’t a good place for a woman on her own, and I really can’t go in that bar.”

She reached around and pulled out her bike. It had been her mother’s at one point in time. It was a feminine bike with a comfy seat and a basket on the front. It was painted a muted green and white.

A single eyebrow arched as he looked over her favorite mode of transportation. “Are you serious?”

She shrugged. “I don’t really like to drive much. It scares me.”

“And being on the highway on a bicycle in the middle of the night doesn’t?”

Now he sounded like Bo. “I can handle it. I’m responsible for myself, sir.”

“Fuck.” He said it under his breath, but she caught it. He shifted as though he was in a little pain. “Give the bike to me. We can put it in the back of my truck. I’ll take you home. Unless you really were planning on walking in and hauling Bo out of there.”

She couldn’t stand the thought that Trev believed that. “I didn’t come here for Bo.”

“You seem pretty close to him.” His eyes became hooded.

“He’s my friend. I will admit that I care about him. But he doesn’t want me like a man wants a woman. He sees me as his sister. I really didn’t come here for him.”

“Why did you come here, Beth?” The question rolled out of his mouth like a silky temptation, as if he knew what she was looking for, but he was going to make her say it.

“I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” She forced the admission out. Maybe Clarissa was right. Maybe she was pathetic, but by god, she was honest about it.

He took her bike, easily picking it up with one hand. He didn’t roll it along. He simply lifted it as though it had no real weight. “Come on then, darlin’. I don’t want to be alone, either. You’re sure you don’t belong to Bo?”

“I don’t belong to anyone.” She didn’t anymore. Her family was all gone. Bonnie loved her, but it was in a distant way. And Bo was too busy having crazy ménage sex. She was never going to be enough for him. She belonged to herself. She was responsible for her own happiness.

Trev stopped in front of a battered old Ford pickup. It was green and white. It was lovely to Mouse’s eyes. Trev hefted the bike up and gently put it in the back of the truck.

“This is yours?”

He smiled, one eyebrow cocking up. “I hope so, darlin’. Otherwise I just gave away your preferred mode of transportation.”

She let her hands find the truck’s body, remembering everything she loved about this model. 1970. Green body. White trim. Bench seats. “My granddaddy had a truck just like this. I remember how it felt to sit beside him as he drove through town. I felt like I was bigger than everyone else. He always played Loretta Lynn.”

Trev grimaced. “I don’t have that, darlin’. The only thing I’ve spent money on in this car is a CD player. I’m afraid the best I can do is Miranda Lambert. My sister gave me her CD for my birthday.”

“Same difference. The point is, I love your truck. It’s been a long time since I saw a truck like this.”

“It’s a mess. It needs to be fixed up.”

“I like to fix things up. It’s so much better than buying something new.”

Trev stopped and stared. “You know, you’re just about perfect for me. Where did you come from?”

“Deer Run. I was born here.” It wasn’t so surprising he didn’t know much about her. They had lived in the same town their whole lives, but she had never really spoken to him. He might have occupied the same space, but his world had been completely different.

He laughed, throwing that gorgeous head back. “I’ll buy that, darlin’. I will. Now take a seat and I’ll get you home. Buckle up.”

Trev ran around the truck and managed to get to the passenger door before she could. He opened the door and held out his hand to help her up.

“Thank you, sir.”

He sighed again. “Beth, you’re killing me.”

She wasn’t sure why, but it felt nice when he handed her up. He pulled the seat belt out and buckled her in. His hand sliding across her waist sparked something odd and primal in Mouse. Her skin sizzled everywhere he touched.

She tried to turn her attention away. “What were you doing here?”

Was he already slipping? She found that unaccountably sad. He didn’t seem drunk. The cab of his truck smelled like coffee, rich and warm. She didn’t see any evidence of a drinking binge.

“I was sitting out here staring at the bar.”

It was a stark admission. His eyes trailed back toward the honky-tonk.

Without really thinking about it beyond the fact he seemed to need it, she brought her hands up to his face and gently forced his head to turn to face her. “Why?”

“I was trying to decide whether or not I would go in and have a drink. I sat here and drank my coffee and made a deal with myself. I would wait five minutes and then I would go in and have a drink. And then I would decide to wait another five minutes.”

He was on the edge of something bad, yet he’d managed to treat her with genuine kindness. “Are you all right?”