Red-Hot Texas Nights (15 page)

Three to be specific, but then that was the Internet. Luckily all three were within a forty-mile radius and shouldn't be too difficult to check out. Tomorrow. First, she needed some sleep. Four a.m. was only a few hours away. Which meant sex with Tyler McCall would have to wait.

But next time … She would most definitely keep her priorities straight and her brain on target.

No more talking.

Or getting to know each other.

Just sex and nothing but sex.

 

CHAPTER 18

Tyler glanced at the clock for tenth time in as many minutes. Half past one a.m. She wasn't coming. He knew it, yet he stayed put anyway, listening for the grumble of an engine, the click of footsteps. Hoping.

Like hell.

He sat up and reached for his phone. A quick text and he decided to hit a nearby bar and join Duff for a nightcap, but he'd have to hurry if he meant to get there before last call at two a.m.

He sure as hell meant to make it, to stop biding his time, staring at the door, and
do
something. The waiting around for word from his brother was driving him insane, to the point that he'd stopped by at the trailer today and offered to fix the failing porch. Anything to fill the time when he wasn't training.

Or having sex with Brandy.

From the looks of it, he was going to have a damn sight more time on his hands than he'd originally thought.

He'd dropped off a load of wood earlier, left another voice mail for Cooper, and met with Jack Gallagher about climbing onto a few of his bucking bulls.

Not the best that the Rebel area had to offer, but the cream of the crop belonged to Brett Sawyer and Tyler wasn't up to picking that sore just yet. His cousin hated him and so he knew the answer would be no.

But he would make do.

He always did.

He'd never had the best facilities, never had an easy ride like Brett and a few other golden boys in professional bull riding. Tyler didn't have it easy. Not when he'd been living on cheese sandwiches and training on a rusted-out barrel behind his trailer, though things were a slight bit better now. At least he had cash in his pocket, a roof over his head, a good meal, and enough left over for a bottle of whiskey on those nights when his muscles ached clear to the bone.

Like tonight.

He pulled on a T-shirt, grabbed his keys, and walked out to his truck. A quick glance down the road just to make sure there was no blaze of lights, and he swung up behind the wheel.

Give it up, buddy. She's not coming.

Because he'd screwed up last night. He'd held her just a little too long, made things just a little more complicated. Not on purpose. Hell, he'd been tired and she'd felt good and, seriously, it's not like he was starting to
feel
anything for her.

Tyler made it his business not to feel anything for anyone. He didn't need anything else pulling him back to Rebel, Texas, not when he was this close to breaking the last few ties. He would see his brother off to A&M, fix the damn porch for his mother, and that would be that. His work here finished.

Finally.

Yep, last night had had little to do with feeling and more to do with the fact that he'd had a weak moment. He'd been tired as hell, and well, he'd let his exhaustion cloud his thinking.

A weak moment.

That's all it had been.

One that had spooked the living shit out of her.

A good thing, he told himself. As tired as he was right now, as stressed, he was liable to haul her close, bury his nose in her neck, and fall dead asleep without ever having peeled off even a stitch of her clothes—and that wouldn't work at all. No, it was better that she kept her distance tonight and let him get his head on straight.

Because the last thing he meant to do was feel anything for Brandy Tucker besides lust.

Gunning the engine, he sent the truck screaming down the road toward the first turnoff and the small bar that sat just off to the right.

*   *   *

“So what do you think?” Duff asked him after he'd spent ten minutes giving Tyler the quick rundown on his rocky love life.

Love
, because Duff had broken down and mentioned the L word just last night, in the heat of the moment, just when he'd erupted like Old Faithful. A big no-no for any man.

“It's hard to tell. What did she say?”

“She didn't say anything,” Duff said, his words slightly slurred thanks to the half-empty bottle of Crown Royal sitting on the table in front of him. “I don't even think she heard it.”

Oh, she'd heard it, all right.

Tyler would be willing to lay money on it, particularly since the woman in question was a local. Not that Duff had mentioned her name.

That was the telltale sign that something was different with this woman, because Duff had a habit of kissing and telling, only he wasn't spilling his guts right now, not to the point that he'd violated the local's identity. “Tell me what I should do now.”

“Right now? At this moment?” Duff nodded and Tyler said, “I think you should call it a night and head back to the motel.” Tyler took a swig of the bottled water in front of him, his drink of choice once he'd caught up to Duff and realized the man was three sheets to the wind. “I'll drive.”

“But don't you think I should call her? I mean, I said I would last night before she left. But then I woke up and realized what I'd said and I started to think that maybe I shouldn't have said it. What if it scared her?”

What if it didn't?

That was the question that would have startled Tyler more than anything else when it came to pouring out his feelings for a woman. The notion that she would return those feelings, that he would find himself anchored to the one town he'd vowed to leave behind.

“What if it did?” Tyler decided to play devil's advocate. “Then it's a good thing you didn't follow through and call her.”

“But what if she waited the entire day and then I didn't call. She'll know I didn't mean it.”

“Maybe that's a good thing.”

“It's terrible. What kind of guy drops the L word and doesn't mean it?”

“I hate to break it to you, Opie, but most guys in the free world.”

“I don't do that,” Duff said. “I've never done that. Why now?”

“Is she good looking?”

“Damn straight.”

“Is she good in bed?”

“The best.”

“Then that's why.”

“I'm an asshole.”

“You're human.”

“A crappy human. I told her I would call her. But then I wanted to see her so damn bad that it scared the shit out of me. I couldn't call her. And now she's going to think I didn't want to call her.”

“You didn't,” Tyler pointed out.

“Yeah, but not because I don't like her. I do. Hell, I like her a lot. I don't love her. I mean, I don't think I do. That's crazy, right? I don't even know her.”

“Crazier than crazy.”

“Seriously, there's no way I can really
love
her. Not when I don't even know her middle name. I don't know what her favorite food is or what kind of music she likes or her favorite color. I don't know anything except she can damn well scream up a storm when she cuts loose. That ain't enough, right? I mean, I actually mentioned her to my mother this morning before I could stop myself. Told her I might be bringing someone home for dinner. What the hell was I thinking?” He shook his head. “I should call her.”

“That would make things worse. Trust me. Just get some sleep. Call her tomorrow if you still want to talk to her.”

“I might not, right? I mean, it might be a good thing that I didn't call her on account of I need some distance right now to get my head together. Do you know I almost asked her to come with me to Cheyenne after I dropped the L bomb? Seriously, how crazy is that?”

Almost as crazy as Tyler thinking for even five seconds that it might not be so bad to wake up tomorrow, and the next day and the next, with Brandy Tucker curled up next to him.

“I'm blowing this way out of the water, right?” Duff tossed him a questioning glance, his eyes bleary and red. “No way can I love this girl. I need to slow down, pull back.”

Amen.

“That's it.” Duff downed the finger of whiskey left in his shot glass and slammed it down on the scarred wood. “Get me out of here. I need to sleep.”

“Yeah,” said the bartender, who came up and reached for the empty bottle. “Get the both of you outta here. It's closing time.”

Tyler nodded, grabbed Duff by the arm, and hauled him to his feet. Hiking an arm around the cowboy's waist, Tyler led Duff outside and hitched him up into the passenger seat of his pickup before slamming the door and rounding the truck.

“Thanks, buddy,” Duff said as Tyler climbed behind the wheel. “Here,” Duff said, handing over his phone. “You take it. I don't trust myself. I might get horny and call her up.” He slumped down into the seat, his head lolling against the headrest. “Who knows what I might say? Hell, the next time I see you, I might be engaged.” He shook his head again. “What was I thinking?”

“You weren't, but at least you came to your senses. You're ending it now. No more leading her on.”

“Damn straight. No lame excuses. No eating my words. Just a clean break. So what if she thinks I'm an asshole?”

“Better to disappoint her now than do it later when she's even more hooked on you.”

“Yeah, more hooked,” Duff mumbled, closing his eyes. “That would be bad. Probably.”

Tyler gunned the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. Fifteen minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of Rebel's one and only motel. He hauled the man out and steered him toward his room. A few seconds later, he let Duff collapse on the bed while he turned to pull off the man's boots.

“Thanks, buddy,” Duff's voice drew him back around. “You saved me. At the rate I was going, I might be married by now if you hadn't shown up to talk some sense into me.”

“That's what friends are for. Now get some sleep.” He finished pulling off the boots, plopped Duff's hat on the nearby dresser, and turned toward the door.

“Maybe you ought to leave the phone.” Duff's voice stopped his hand on the doorway. “I should at least leave a voice mail and tell her that something came up. I wouldn't want her to think I'm a total jerk.”

So much for breaking ties.

But Tyler couldn't say that he blamed his buddy. Great sex made even the strongest man do and say the craziest things.

Tyler knew that firsthand.

But he wasn't making that mistake again.

 

CHAPTER 19

It was the longest morning of Brandy's life. Not because the bakery was slow, though that in itself was torture to watch. But because she had three possible addresses for Ryder Jax and she couldn't wait to do a little recon and narrow down his whereabouts.

Once she knew the location and she'd checked it out to make sure she wasn't liable to get her head blown off, then she would approach him and talk to him about running her shine.

She thought about ducking away at lunch and leaving Ellie in charge of the minimal stream of customers, but the woman seemed more quiet than usual.

Depressed even.

“Don't tell me things went sour with the new cowboy?”

“No. Yes.” Ellie shook her head. “I mean, I guess it's how you look at it. I think he likes me more than I like him and so I had to break it off because, you know, the last thing I want is to get involved with anyone. I like my freedom.”

“You're preaching to the choir.”

“I mean, he really is cute and there's just something about the way he looks at me that's kind of cool. But not
that
cool. It would never work anyway. He's not even from here. He's just here until he heads up to Cheyenne. Which is why I hooked up with him in the first place, you know? He was new. Exciting. But most of all, no strings.”

Yep, she was preaching to the choir, all right.

“If I want some guy blubbering how much he loves me, I could just stick it out with Bart, you know?” She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

She said the words, but there was something about the distant look in her eyes that told Brandy she wasn't nearly as sure as she wanted to be.

And so Brandy dug in her heels for the rest of the day and did her best to distract her baking assistant. She went over a new recipe for s'mores cupcakes and showed Ellie how to whip up a rich frosting using fresh whipped cream and mascarpone cheese, and she helped her look for Miss Betty's purse.

It seemed the old woman had left it in the restroom on Sunday.

“Thanks ever so much, dearie,” Betty told her when Brandy handed over the giant white patent-leather bag that had been sitting in the corner of the employee bathroom. “Why, I thought I'd lost it for good.”

“I'm sorry I didn't find it sooner. I usually notice things like that.” But then she hadn't been thinking straight the past few days since Tyler had rolled back into town. It made sense that she would have missed the giant purse when she closed up on Sunday night.

“You've got your hands busy what with all these great muffins.” Betty held up the blueberry that Brandy had handed her after finding the missing purse. “Take care now, sugar. And thanks again.”

Brandy watched as the woman walked out of the bakery and climbed into a small blue pickup truck driven by a young man in his twenties. Her grandson Mitchell, Brandy knew from seeing him with Betty at the last picnic. While Betty's daughter and son-in-law didn't get over to see her too often from Austin, her grandson lived nearby in the old house where Betty had grown up. He drove her around whenever she missed the bus and visited her every week.

For a quick moment she found herself thinking how nice it would be to have a grandson to look out for her when she got older. But in order to have a grandson, she would have to have a daughter or son. And in order to do that, she'd have to find a husband.