Their Ex's Redrock Midnight (Texas Alpha) (5 page)

“Not the same,” Cabe uttered.

“Shit,” Vincent growled. “It’s never the same with these crazy bitches we married.”

Cabe went to one of the lockers Vincent stood beside and opened it to grab his workout outfit. He hadn’t been home since Vega got released from the hospital and went there, so he’d been living in two set of clothes, washing the free set at WTSF and sleeping in his too-small office at the charity’s compound.

“She’s going to come unglued,” Cabe muttered lowly, standing next to Vincent with his head down.

“Yeah, it’s the fucking truth,” Vincent muttered back about Cabe’s wife Vega.

“Think I’ve been running from it happening,” Cabe returned, and he looked at Vincent, whose gaze drilled him back.

Vincent’s hand raised and clamped his shoulder. “Something worth having is worth going through hell for,” Vincent said.

Something inside Cabe, which had been working on him since he’d gotten close to Rusty, started to untangle more. There was right and wrong. There were gray areas and there were a man’s vows to a woman who spat on those vows, while she acted like a fragile thing that might break if pushed too hard to do the fucking right thing.

“I didn’t break my vows,” Cabe uttered. “I just found my damn backbone.”

Vincent nodded with a pleased sneer. “Never too late for backbone, brother. I’m proof.”

***

R
usty didn’t call Tess and update her on the latest. One, if she did, then she’d be acknowledging it
did
happen and was going to happen again. Two, it would put Tess in the middle of the something that was not happening,
but
was. Three, it would make Rusty head slut of all the wild things that either she or Tess had ever done. Four ... was back to one. So no talking to Tess, which actually made it easier not to analyze her affair with Cabe.

She was doing a good job of it too ... halfway through her main shift and not too many incessant thoughts about Cabe later. That was until Cabe’s tricked-out security job on her taxi went whacko and then he leaped instantly into her brain with full force.

“Damn you, Cabe Santos, what taxi needs a siren!” she exclaimed, slapping imaginary buttons on the LED control panel.

It was electronic and didn’t have a big red button that said “push here.” If she hadn’t been trying to find the button, she would have had her hands over her ears, protecting them from the shrill blast. Luckily, she was at a stop sign when she’d done something to ignite World War III in taxi security.

Her eyes widened; were those blue, red, and gold lights flashing too? Good God.

Rusty was jumping around, cussing with her seatbelt holding her back, when a man’s brown, muscular arm reached in front of her, through her steering wheel, and nabbed her keys.

“What!” she screeched. Then she realized she could hear her screech because the alarms had fallen silent. Her hands went to her ears. God that had hurt.

“Babe ...”

Rusty knew there were more words spoken, but she couldn’t hear them through the ringing in her ears and through her hands covering them. A hand reached back and clasped warmly on her chin, turning her face toward the window. Black eyes, sexy as sin, looked at her as two fingers pointed to his eyes, then to her eyes, then back to his. Rusty realized it was a man and he was trying to get her attention via sign-language gestures.

She nodded. They were connected. His sexy mouth attached to his sexy eyes lifted and he crooked a finger at her, beckoning her out of her taxi. What she faced when she got out was a very well-built man with a blond buzz cut, wearing only running shorts. His cut chest glistened with sweat as she licked her lips, trying not to stare at it.

“Tag,” he yelled at her.

She jumped back into the door of her taxi. They were on Nob Hill, so called by the locals because of the lilac Victorian house on the oak-shaded corner of the four-corner stop. Lucky that, because there was not much traffic on Nob Hill. She’d been cutting a back way to get to her next pickup at the Italian restaurant in town.

“Sorry, babe. I thought you couldn’t hear.”

Rusty looked wide-eyed at the man, who acted as if he knew her. Although she couldn’t say him calling her “babe” was having any ill effects, as she did not notice a trickle of sweat run into the cut ridge of his abdomen.

She could have been in a little bit of hot-hunk befuddlement, as she stuttered, “D-Do I know you?”

“Right,” he muttered, swinging her keys on his first finger. “Name’s Tag. Work with Cabe and Vincent.”

Her lips made an O shape that he watched. Closely. Still did not mean how he knew her or knew how to save her from the tricked-out taxi security from hell. “’Kay,” she said, then she patted her right ear.

“Kind of loud,” he offered.

“Like a sonic blast,” Rusty muttered.

To that, Tag of sweat-glistening muscles displayed in only running shorts, which Rusty was certain had to be a major event on Nob Hill. So much so she looked around for Tag’s female entourage. Yeah, she saw no less than five housewives out in their front yards doing little domestic duties, from watering to ... yep, one was sunbathing ... in a bikini ... tiny. Tiny bikini waved at Tag as he followed Rusty’s gaze, looking around. Turning back to look at him, she saw Tag’s lips firm in a small grimace. Hmm, seemed Tag did not like obviously married ladies in tiny bikinis.

“Gonna have to run a different route,” Tag muttered under his breath.

For reasons not looked at too closely, pushed along with all those other things she was not looking at too closely, that made her smile. So when Tag turned back, he caught it.

“I got no sympathy from you?” he asked with an arched brow.

She chuckled, swept her hand, indicating all of him. “Hot dude displays all that, he is on his own.” His gaze instantly became interested that she so boldly called him a hot dude. So interested it made her blush. “Um—” She backtracked.

She very much should
not
be flirting. But the manliness of him just sort of whacked her in her newly-awakened-by-Cabe pelvis. Just flutters, though ... not Cabe aches.

“I get why he did it now,” Tag said to her mysteriously. “Sweet conquers all.”

She liked that. Really liked it. Even if she didn’t understand it. “So how did you know how to rescue me?” she finally asked the thing she should have asked before flirting with him.

“I like that you say ‘rescued.’ Means you owe me,” he returned, and then his hand circled the six ridges on his abdomen, mesmerizing her as she peeked but tried not to look like she was peeking. Therefore she totally missed his outright play for her.

“Yeah, uh huh,” she whispered, distracted.

“I’m glad we agree, babe.”

Her gaze focused on his sexy black eyes. “We do?”

That was a question, not a statement.

He took it as a statement. “Babe, I helped put that security in your taxi and it seems you need a course on how it works. To thank me and ’cause you admit owing me, dinner tonight at eight. I’ll pick you up.”

Whoa.

Were her ears still ringing?

Must. Be.

Rusty started to say she couldn’t because she was having a smoking-hot affair with Cabe Santos to a man Cabe knew, and who must have worked on the security for her taxi. But she couldn’t say that. Just like Cabe hadn’t told Tag why he was putting security in her taxi. Cabe was obviously keeping it on the down-low because Cabe was still technically attached, and therefore she couldn’t announce something that wasn’t her right to out. Ohmygod, she so needed Tess.

But she couldn’t go there.

Outta her mouth came, “I’ll meet you. No picking up.”

Was she insane?

“Babe.” He looked like Cabe looked like when he was going to get his hot bossy on, so she preempted him.

“Don’t know you,” she reminded him, glad her mind finally showed up but too late for the fix she was in. “Girl’s got to be safe.”

“Got references,” he uttered one octave higher than Cabe’s rumble. So maybe half the shiver through her body. She blinked at him. “Okay, babe, will do it your way this first time.”

First time? Hell.

S
o that was how Rusty ended up on a date with Tag from WTSF. Totally not her fault. She’d figured it out; it was all Cabe’s fault.

And, because it was Cabe’s fault, she either had to lie to Cabe or tell him straight up the fix she was in. Because Cabe was texting her about “when her panties were going to be on his lap.”

It was so bad. She was afraid that if Cabe found out he would think she was like his wife going out on him. She didn’t want that. But also they were
not
committed. And this mess was making her think more about what she was trying not to think about. All of that was making her pretty mad.

So one second before she opened the door of her taxi to get out at the restaurant Tag had picked, she sent Cabe a text that read, “Got a date. See you at eleven.”

She threw her cell into her purse and stomped on her high heels up to the restaurant’s front door. That might have been overly cruel, but what the hell else was she supposed to do. She’d not lied and she’d explain later. Dinner was dinner ... not hot sex or anything.

“Babe, you look fucking hot.”

Rusty’s startled eyes lifted to Tag, seen through the doorway he was opening for her. She had on a little black dress, not too sexy, but still cute. It had lacy sleeves, a flared skirt, and a little bit of cleavage showing. She didn’t think it was all that hot, but maybe her heels were, which was what Tag was looking at. They were snakeskin stiletto booties—freaking hot, and her most expensive pair of heels.

She noticed Tag had on black slacks and a light gray dress shirt. Very nice, and his gaze was roaming liberally up her bare legs. She didn’t have opportunities to dress up much, but she had no problem strutting her stuff with a swing of her hips past Tag. His gaze kept after her and he even held her chair out, pushing it in once she sat.

“I’m thinking this is a pretty good payoff for saving you,” Tag said as he sat.

Rusty smiled at him, drinking in his hotness even as she knew the words she had to say. “Tag, I’m not free for it to be any more than this simple ‘thank you’ dinner.”

Tag’s gaze darkened and his lips firmed as his elbows hit the table and he leaned forward. His voice was a low rumble. “You taken, sweetheart?”

“I’m tangled,” she muttered. “But tangled enough those women on Nob Hill Lane can still swoon over your single attraction.” Rusty said the word “single” significantly. Then she opened her menu, hopefully putting an end to any more questioning about her availability or lack thereof.

Of course she didn’t realize she was now in badass land and had been since Cabe entered her taxi. Tess could have told her.

“That’s like a challenge, babe. To get you untangled.”

Rusty looked over the top of her menu at Tag, who didn’t look like he was joking. Instead, Tag’s features looked lean and determined. Geez, how long had she gone without any hot hunks after her, and now she had two? It wasn’t fair.

“I’m not challenging you,” she told Tag as sweetly as she could. “Just bad timing.”

Tag grabbed her menu out of her hands and he folded it closed then set it on top of his in front of him. The next second he had her hand in his. A nice, warm, big hand. She so should reclaim her hand. But she didn’t.

“Those violet eyes are going to be worth it,” he told her.

She inwardly felt the thrill of his compliment, even as she shook her head.
But
she still held his hand. My God, she was a tease.

“Sir, are you ready to order?” Rusty’s gaze unlatched from Tag’s drugging gaze to see a young waiter standing beside Tag. She’d just opened her mouth to tell the waiter she wasn’t ready yet, when Tag began to order. For
both
of them.

“My lady will have a cosmo cocktail, light on the lime. I’ll have a bottle of Heineken. She’ll have the filet mignon, medium rare, no potato, but some broccoli and a salad with Italian on the side. Me, I’ll have a T-bone, baked with the works, and salad with Italian on it.”

The waiter nodded while Rusty sputtered, then the waiter left, and Rusty blurted, “You ordered for me.”

It sounded like an accusation and it
was
an accusation. She tugged her hand in his big grip, but Tag did not release her hand.

“You’ll find I like to be in control, babe. It’s a thing from the military when I was a sergeant.”

“What if I don’t like Italian
or
broccoli?” she asked, with very strange-ranging tingles in her belly from very masculine Tag saying he liked to be in control.

“Do you?” he asked with a wicked half-smile as a few of his fingers holding her hand curled under and stroked her inner palm. She felt that in illegal places and her mouth stopped working. He must have taken her non-answer as an answer, because he continued, “Now how do I untangle a beautiful, sweet woman?”

It was during dessert and after two cosmos that Tag finally got that she was really tangled.

“It’s never going to work,” she told Tag. “It’s too messed up.
I’m
too messed up.” Okay, maybe she was a little tipsy because she was a lightweight drinker. Tag was holding both her hands across the table.

“Don’t like seeing you hurting, babe. Even if you are tangled,” he muttered.

“That’s so sweet!” she exclaimed. A little too loudly. Okay, so she was very tipsy. “You’re too badass to be sweet,” she told him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head and looking pained. “You are going to be hard to ignore.”

“See, sweet,” she slurred, squeezing his hand.

“Babe, I’m only doing this for you,” he said. “You get untangled or you get so tangled you need backup ... you call me. I’m right there if you need me.”

“Okay,” she whispered to him.

Tag paid for dinner, then he wouldn’t let her drive home. Not that she tried, because she was a responsible tipsy person. He didn’t try anything either, but she could tell he wanted to by his intense glances at her.

Then the Oops happened. In the morning when she was sober she’d probably think it was more a catastrophe than a tiny Oops. But Cabe’s truck was out front of her house when Tag pulled up. Rusty knew Tag knew whose truck it was, even with the generic WTSF logo on it.