Undeniable (5 page)

Squinting into the heat waves shimmering off the hood of his truck, he held up the longnecks and booted his door closed. “I come bearing gifts.”

Making his careful way down the building’s rickety stairs, Boone shoved back his hat, wiped his forehead with his sleeve, then rolled a bottle of ice water over his skin before tugging down the brim to shade his eyes. “Those bite marks on your neck? I’d say that’s not all the coming you’ve been doing.”

“What can I tell you—” It was all Dax got out before Casper grabbed the grocery bag out of his arm and headed toward the rear of his truck.

Peering inside, he said, “You can tell me you got the spool of wire else you’re gonna be the one chasing down the next runaway calf.”

“I did,” Dax said, though Casper had to have seen it as he lowered the tailgate to use as a lunch counter. The kitchen in the bunkhouse had two chairs and no table, yet none of the three felt right moving into the main house. It still belonged to the Daltons. Thinking otherwise hadn’t settled in and might never.

Figuring it best not to press his luck, Dax ran a thumb over the bruise Arwen had given him, leaving off the part about having to stop by Lasko’s a second time for the wire, since he’d kind of lost his way on the first trip. “And I would’ve gone after this morning’s calf. You just got there first, being an early bird and all.”

“Not an early bird.” Casper tossed him a burger wrapped in yellow waxed paper. “An insomniac. Wondering if we’ll be able to make this thing work.”

Boone caught the second package. “Insomnia comes with the territory. Hard to think about letting down Tess and Dave. Still getting used to their trusting we wouldn’t.”

They were here, they were doing all they could to keep the ranch afloat. If they failed, Dax would move on. He’d done it before.
“Tess and Dave knew this wasn’t going to be easy for whoever took over. And Dave in particular knew how far an extra hour spent catching up on sleep could go toward making a success of a long day.”

Thoughts of the Daltons settled between them as they ate. The responsibility they’d been given. The belief the older couple had shown in three troubled teens. The very real possibility they’d fuck this up like they had so many other things in their lives.

It wasn’t easy being weighted with a reputation that had an entire town wagering how long they’d last.

Wouldn’t surprise Dax a bit to learn his father had bet his forfeited share of the Campbell estate that he wouldn’t make it to summer’s end.

“Is that what that bite mark is?” Casper asked between chews. “Catching up?”

Dax bit into the burger that was as good as Arwen had promised, and tried to block out the picture of her tits. “Either of you ever know Arwen Poole? From high school?”

Boone held his beer in front of his mouth. “She the one whose dad lost it after her mom was killed in that rollover on 10? Out near Luling?”

“Yeah.” Dax nodded. “He went on disability or something because of the accident. Had to raise Arwen himself.”

“He did a lot of it in the Buck Off Bar, if I’m remembering things right,” Boone added before guzzling down a long swallow.

Dax remembered things the same way. Hard not to with it being beat into his head by his mother. “She owns it now. Though she calls it a saloon. That’s where the burgers came from.”

“Must be the place Faith was talking about. Where the girls dance on the bar.” At the glaring look from Boone, Casper stopped. “What? The other day at the bank. You were there. Unless you giving me the evil eye kept you from hearing anything she said.”

Dax was leaving this one alone. Like Arwen, Boone’s little sister had grown up while they’d been away, and though Casper had toed Boone’s hands-off line in high school, Faith no longer needed her big brother’s protection.

Boone wasn’t of a mind to agree. Faith being their loan officer at the First National Bank would be putting her in Casper’s path too often for Boone’s liking. But at least the other two butting heads over Faith took the heat off of Dax.

He finished his burger, tossed the ball of waxed paper into the grocery bag, and thumbed the top from a second beer. Closing his eyes against the sun’s blinding light, he brought it to his mouth. The heat returned before he’d managed even a sip.

“Is Arwen Poole the one who bit you?” The tailgate rattled as Casper boosted up to sit, a dust cloud rising from the seat of his jeans.

“I ran into her at Lasko’s.” A noncommittal answer. “She was delivering lunch to Bubba Taylor.”

Boone snorted. “He smell any better than he did in high school?”

“Nope. Doesn’t look any better either.”

“Fuck Bubba Taylor,” Casper said, using his shoulder as a napkin to wipe the grease and the drought’s sandy grit from his mouth. “I want to hear more about Arwen. You two play vampire in the kitchen while she cooked?”

“She doesn’t do the cooking. She’s got a couple of girls flipping burgers.” Girls who probably earned more than the part-time hands here on the ranch. Dax frowned, staring at his longneck and deciding how much more to spill. “She lives behind the saloon. Little house used to belong to Buck Akers when he owned the bar.”

Another snort from Boone. “That piece-of-shit shack?”

Dax thought of the flowers, of the cat. Of the black-and-
white kitchen floor that brought to mind old movies. “It’s not a shack anymore. Surprised her water bill hasn’t bankrupted her. The grass is so green it looks like she doused it with a bucket of paint.”

That brought silence as all three looked around the place they’d inherited. They were living piecemeal per Faith’s budget, buying supplies as they needed them and
only
the supplies they couldn’t do without. The spool of galvanized steel barbed wire in the bed of his truck was an example. As far as anything on the spread being green… South Central Texas had been so long without rain that nothing held color for miles.

Brown was everywhere. Dirt, dead grass. Paint chipped from the bunkhouse to expose the wood beneath. The hay they were having to pay for and truck in since the end of Dave Dalton’s days hadn’t left him with the health or the money to bale his own. The cows and the horses, though they were born that way and Dax couldn’t hold it against them. Still, they added to the dull and lifeless landscape.

If he was going to stay in this place for the extended length of time he’d signed on for, he needed more reason than the view from here. What he needed was green grass and yellow flowers. An orange tabby. Sweet creamsicle tits and hair that shone like campfire coffee lit by the light of the moon. Yep, those would do nicely. Nicely enough he thought he could put off sampling more of the local wares awhile longer.

What he couldn’t put off another minute was work. He screwed up again, he wouldn’t get off this lightly. He downed the rest of his beer, backhanded the moisture from his mouth, and dropped the bottle in the bag. He might’ve fucked things up with his family, but he wasn’t going to do the same with the people in his life who mattered. The people who accepted—and respected—the choices he’d made.

Hopping into the truck bed for the spool of wire, he made a
Gimme
motion in Casper’s direction. “Toss me your gloves.”

Head shaking, Casper tugged them from his belt and pulled them on. “Uh-uh. You and your damn bite marks got the only break you’re gonna get today.”

Or not so lightly. “Hope that doesn’t mean I have to restring the south pasture fence on my own.”

“Nope, but we gotta wait for Diego to get back with the flatbed since he’s got the stretcher and staple driver.”

And because we can’t afford more than one of either,
Dax mused with an irritation he directed at the spool, shoving it with his boot to where Casper waited.

Boone got the lunch trash out of the way, crimping the top of the bag and tossing it to the bunkhouse porch where it landed with a breaking glass clatter. “Wonder what possessed Arwen Poole to hang out her shingle in Crow Hill. Figured she would’ve left not long after we did, what with her situation being as craptastic as it was.”

Dax couldn’t say but was curious about the same. “We didn’t spend a lot of time talking, but I’ll find out what I can.”

“That mean you’re seeing her again?” Casper asked, hefting the wire to the ground and giving Dax the side eye from beneath the brim of his beat-up straw hat.

Laughing, Dax held up both hands. “From here on, after-hours only. I swear on every almighty dollar I left behind at the mansion on the hill.”

“You know those dollars would come in handy right about now,” Boone said. “I don’t think Faith was kidding when she said we could do with picking up pennies and collecting aluminum cans.”

“Then sign me up for the picking and collecting. I’m too old and worn out for law school. Even if I had any interest in going.
Which I don’t.” He jumped to the ground, slammed the tailgate shut. “The family firm will just have to grind to an end without me.”

“I don’t know. Hear tell Darcy’s doing all she can to stake her claim to the throne,” said Boone.

Except Boone knew as well as Dax that Dax’s father would never crown a female successor. A pang of guilt punched the center of Dax’s chest and he struggled to draw breath. If nothing else, he needed to see Darcy. And soon. His sister didn’t deserve to be left to fight the good Campbell fights as well as the bad ones alone.

Yeah. This had to be done. “Why don’t I ride out and find Diego, get him to help me with the fence? You two can get back to whatever else needs doing.”

“And why would you volunteer to do that?” Boone asked from where he was leaning both forearms on the bed of Dax’s truck.

“I was thinking of heading into town early in the morning. Having breakfast with Darcy.” When his partners both started in with the loud and colorful words, he cut them off. “Hey. I’ve been back a week. I need to see her.”

Casper nodded, though still had to ask, “You gotta do it on company time?”

“It’s Darcy, man. And I won’t be long.” But wanting to be all aboveboard and honest since he needed his friends at his back, he added, “Arwen, I’ll see on my own.”

A
RWEN’S FAVORITE ROOM
in her house was the bath. The pink and aqua retro tiles made her happy, as did the pedestal sink. Taking out a back porch storage closet she knew she’d never use had allowed her to enlarge the room by half. She’d added a skylight, French doors into a dressing area, and turned the room into an oasis with flowers and candles, with music, with all the mirrors a girl could possibly need.

But nothing matched her love for her vintage claw-foot tub. Knowing exactly the size and shape she wanted, she’d searched for months before finding one to fit her needs. And every night when she stretched out her legs and sank chin deep into water that smelled of herbs and a hint of citrus, she forgot the hassle of haggling with dealers, of driving miles to find no such advertised tub existed.

Owning the saloon meant long days and late hours. She rarely got home before three a.m. and almost never slept past nine. Unwinding
happened a lot faster with the warmth of the water surrounding her, and the stars twinkling above took her mind off everything else. Tonight, however, even with the stars and the water, relaxation was proving problematic.

And her problem’s name was Dax.

She was sore,
so
sore—her inner thighs from the sexual calisthenics, her nipples from his beard stubble and teeth. Her clit from his hard, grinding thrust. He’d stretched her and scraped her and left her raw. But even now, soaping her tender skin, she loved knowing it was Dax who’d done this.

What she still hadn’t figured out—and probably needed to—was why she’d let him get to her in the first place all those years ago. They’d both grown up in Crow Hill, though had never run in the same circles—unless she counted attending the same schools, which didn’t make sense to do. All kids living in the speck of a town went to school together. And she sure hadn’t felt for Bubba Taylor the things she’d felt for Dax.

Thinking of those things… She closed her eyes, raised her knees, spread her legs, and let her fingers linger between them. One finger stroked one side of her clit, a second finger stroked the other. Up and down she rubbed, pulling at the sensitive flesh, pinching the hard knot of nerves. The water sloshed as she squirmed, as each deeper pass brought her closer to re-creating that first glorious breach of her body by his.

Glorious. Yes. It was the only word that fit. She’d waited her entire adult life to have Dax in her bed. Or in this case, to have him back her up against a door. Those minutes in her kitchen, though all too short, had been furious and consuming and so
so
hot. And yet… She hooked one foot over the tub’s edge, eased her fingers between her pussy’s slick, soapy lips.

Dax Campbell was one of a kind, always had been, always would be, but for some reason she’d expected more. Stupid, really,
when a kitchen quickie was all lust had allowed them. More required, well… more. Time was the obvious. Touching, teasing. Gazes that lingered. Anticipation, arousal. Steam.

She groaned, a soft throaty sound, and slid her middle finger deep into her sex, wishing for Dax, his mouth, his hands. His impressively able cock. She pictured him with his shirt open, his fly open, his shaft thick behind the cotton of his briefs. He was beautiful. Bold and aggressive, and she increased the rhythm of her stroke and remembered his fit.

She’d had lovers. Some exquisitely experienced teachers. Others new to the game and appreciative of her tongue. She loved the physical intimacies shared between a woman and a man, but she did not mix pleasure with the business that provided her living. When struck with an itch she needed help scratching, it was easier to find a cowboy in a San Antonio honky-tonk than risk word of her sex life getting back to the likes of Bubba Taylor.

Because that’s all she wanted from a man. A sex life. She had girlfriends. She had guy friends. She had her saloon and her house, and she had Crush—though the twenty-pound tabby would likely argue that if anything, he had her. What she did not have, did not want, and certainly did not need was a debilitating emotion prettied up with poems and promises and pink paper hearts.