Remember Arizona: A Second Chance Romance (Country Love Collection)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  And from the callous hatred oozing from him, thicker than the oil that shined in his hair, I didn’t blame her. The piece of shit wasn’t happy with their discussion and, like always, he was going to make it known.

  Leaving Tally safely with Mee-Maw in the corner by Nico’s work discussing the trip she’d planned to the Lavender Pit the next day, I wandered through the crowd, smiling and shaking hands with familiar and friendly faces from town.

  “She’s making a big mistake.”

  My head snapped to the side, the greasy weasel sauntering up to me like he owned this place—and her.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if it has anything to do with you and Tally, I’m sure she’s not.”

  I tried to move on, recognizing the fist flexed at my side was eager to reconnect with his face, but he grabbed my arm and forced my attention to him.

  “Don’t make me hit you again,” I warned, nodding to the shiner he still sported from last night. “Black and blue aren’t your colors.”

  He hissed, stepping closer to me because he was, certifiably, an idiot. “Tally isn’t yours. She’s mine. She’s only with you because she’s not over me, and I want her back.”

  I threw my head back and laughed, resting a hand on my quaking stomach. “You might want to get your head looked at.” I took a deep breath, enjoying the rage that ate away at his good looks. “I must’ve hit you pretty hard for you to believe that.”

  “You’re a piece of shit,” he spat with a low voice, drawing some attention from the passing visitors. “She’s not going to want you when she goes back to New York. You’re only hot shit in this crazy-ass small town. Maybe you should take a hike back to your reservation.”

  My hand whipped out so fast, there was not even as second to think about stopping it before my fingers locked around his throat.

  I wanted to choke his ego and his attitude right out of him. I wanted to do a lot of things to his ego and attitude. But now people were looking, and in moments, Tally would be, too. And I wouldn’t derail her hard work just so I could teach this fucker a lesson.

  Carlos gasped when I released him, dropping my hand to my side and putting some space between us. There were a few people still watching our interaction, and a few more catching on, but at least there was nothing to see anymore.

  Meanwhile, a twisted smile curved up Carlos’ face.

  “Sam?” Tally appeared at my side, anxiety creased into her brow. “Is everything okay?”

  “Just telling Handsome Sam, here, how you’re not worth the trouble,” he remarked, looking back to his part of the exhibit.

  I reached for Tally, pulling her against me and wishing I could fully shield her from his harsh words.

  “Carlos…” I warned, glowering at him.

  “I’m moving on, and I have something to show everyone,” he said the last part louder, drawing attention from the crowd and causing many to collect around us. “I have a special piece I want to unveil tonight.”

  He took down several pieces to make room for the larger one that ate up the wall like an oblong ghost with the white sheet he had over to obscure it.

  Addressing the group once more, he said, “I wasn’t sure I was going to show this piece at all, but I thought what better way to… honor… our lovely organizer than by revealing something that wouldn’t have been possible—that wouldn’t have existed without her.”

  He shot a glance at Tally, his cold smile and Tally’s held breath telling me everything I needed to know about how bad of a turn this situation was going to take.

  “Carlos…”

  Only I heard her strained inhale of his name. Not a plea. Just pure disbelief. Pure horror.

  Like a gleeful child, he tugged on the edges of the sheet, letting it drop to the floor to reveal an ugly—I mean, abstract—painting. Bright reds and oranges and yellows exploded in the background, but on top of them, black paint was smeared angrily over the length of the canvas.

  “I call it The Scorned Woman.”

  I didn’t understand the exact connection, but I knew whatever it was, was done to hurt Tally, and if he’d been within reach, I would’ve hit him again. Especially when he leveled Tally with a triumphant grin.

  “Would you care to share how this masterpiece came to be?” he asked, laughing, but didn’t let her answer, though I doubt she could have. “No, no. I don’t want to take you away from the… rounds… you are making.”

  Jesus Christ, did this fucker really just insinuate that she was acting like a whore? All because she didn’t want his cheating ass?

  Tally choked next to me, her weight swaying against me like he’d just cut her knees out from under her.

  “I see you’re overwhelmed. Why don’t you let me do the honors?”

  He motioned for the semicircle of visitors to come in closer to hear all about his surprise piece. Rage pumped through my veins, wanting to smash his face right through the canvas, but I needed to take care of Tally first. Whatever he was doing—saying, I wasn’t going to let everyone else see how it affected her.

  Plastering the fakest, carefree smile on my face, I looped my arm around her waist and directed her toward the door like I was trying to steal a moment with my woman. Dipping my head close to her ear, I murmured, “I’ve got you.”

  Her head hardly bobbed, shock making her muscles move with crude coordination.

  The barrier of the door freed her and she stumbled out, fleeing back to the truck and leaving me to catch up.

  “Tally!” I called, grasping her arm as she rounded the front of my truck. “Hold on.”

  Her head shook violently, and I cupped her cheeks, steadying her. Moving closer, I let my body crowd her against the truck’s grill, cocooning her from the outside world.

  “It’s just me, Tally,” I rasped, simultaneously wanting to kiss her so she’d forget about crying and kill Carlos for whatever the hell that little show in there was.

  She tried to move, refusing to meet my gaze. With a low groan, I pulled her head against my chest, cradling it there.

  “It’s just me,” I murmured against her hair. “Just you and me out here.”

  Her body rippled against me, the words achingly familiar to a past we hadn’t fully opened up about, and I worried I’d just poured salt into an open wound. But then she sagged against me, her hands working their way up to my chest to fist my shirt and pull herself tight.

  If that wasn’t encouragement, I didn’t know what was.

  “It’s just you and me now, Tally,” I soothed again, pressing my lips in a tender kiss to her head.

  I held her until her heavy breaths quieted and the trembling in her body steadied. I held her until she was ready to talk—until she hesitantly withdrew from where she’d burrowed against me and lifted her eyes to mine, their blue shining like two teal moons against a dark sky.

  “Tell me,” I pleaded.

  Her lips parted, their color heightened from emotion though it didn’t look like she’d actually cried.

  “The day I found out… caught Carlos with Kendall… I’d come home to that painting on our table,” she began hollowly. “It was only the colors. No black.”

  I focused on keeping my breaths steady, needing to hold a tight rein over my anger.

  “I called for Carlos. He came down covered in paint and wearing a sheet. I thought he’d been napping.” Her bitter laugh sliced through me. “He brought over a tray of black paint and said he needed me to be a part of his process. I thought it wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever done for inspiration.”

  With both hands, she tucked her hair back behind her ears, moistening her lips again.

  “But then she appeared—also wearing a sheet—and the same colors of paint. And I realized what was happening.” She swallowed. “They were fucking. They’d covered themselves in paint and fucked on the canvas. And he didn’t deny it. He wanted it… encouraged my anger. Honestly, I forgot about it until now.” She breathed deeply through the pain. “I forgot
that I smeared paint all over the canvas like I was ruining it—like I was hurting him for betraying me.”

  “Jesus Christ…” I swore through teeth that locked tight.

  “I didn’t realize I wasn’t ruining it. I didn’t realize it was all part of the piece.” The last slipped out like bitter acid off her tongue. “And I didn’t realize it would come back to mock me.”

  I forced down a string of explosive curses, letting them detonate inside me rather than in front of her.

  “Tally,” I rasped, letting my hand drift to her cheek once more, gently stroking it with my thumb.

  “I’m not sad because I want him. I don’t want to be with him. I don’t want anything to do with him. But the last thing I wanted was for this exhibit and all my hard work to be clouded by what he did to me, and now everyone in there knows… what a fool—”

  “Stop,” I broke in, pressing my thumb over her lips. “You aren’t a fool. He is a fool, and everyone in there knows it.”

  Her gaze slid to the side, her deep inhale wavering with uncertainty.

  “I’ll tell you what you are, Tally. You are incredible.” My thumb trailed down to her chin, tipping her head up to mine. “A force to be reckoned with.”

  She bit her lip.

  “And you are a terrible artist.”

  She flinched in my hold, eyes popping wide.

  “He’s a fool for showing that canvas because I’ve seen dirty diapers more worthy of the definition of abstract art than that,” I informed her, allowing one corner of my mouth to quirk into a smile.

  “What—” She couldn’t help but laugh, and I’d never felt more relieved. “When have you seen a dirty diaper?” she demanded, skeptically.

  “Not the point,” I replied, grinning. “The point is, he just hung something that looks like complete trash and, when people hear his inspiration behind it, they’re going to realize that he’s not only talentless, but a talentless asshole.”

  Her subsequent laugh ended in a groan. “Really?”

  “It looked horrible, Tally. You might not have seen their faces, but I did.” I saw the furrowed brows and side looks, everyone eager to hear what kind of inspiration was so important he thought it a good idea to display something so horrendous. “The only person who’s going to look like a fool after tonight is him.”

  She turned into my palm, her eyes closing to take a deep breath against my skin. “Thank you.”

  When she met my gaze again, lust shot like a flare, exploding between us and leaving Carlos and his stupid stunt behind us in the darkness.

  “Tally,” I rasped, pulling her face up to mine.

  She sealed her lips over mine and, with a low grunt, I hoisted her ass up onto the front fender with one arm, using my other hand on her cheek to angle her head and deepen the kiss.

  “Let me take you back to the apartment,” I murmured.

  She trembled against me and demanded, “Take me home, Sam.” Her eyes pierced mine, leaving no doubt what she was asking. “I want you to take me home.”

  Groaning, I kissed her roughly once more, my cock already hard and weeping at the promise of tonight.

  The past would have to wait. Being here with her, now, was a hundred times more important than why I had to leave her then.

  “Get in,” I commanded, my voice grated with desire.

  Tally sucked in a breath but eagerly hopped down from the fender and darted for the passenger door. When I turned to the other side of the truck, I saw Mee-Maw coming out of the gallery entrance, finding me, and scurrying over.

  “Is she okay?”

  Reaching for the door handle, my chin dipped. “I’m taking her home with me.” Not back to your apartment, went unsaid.

  “Good.” Mee-Maw smiled wide with both glee and relief. “If you need me, I’ll be going full-Bisbee on that douche canoe.”

  I let out a harsh laugh and told her, “Leave something for me.”

  “You snooze, you lose.” She winked and turned back to the gallery.

  My exhale came close to a chuckle because she knew I hadn’t lost. I had everything I wanted in the front seat of my truck, and I’d waited over a decade to have it.

  Tally Kerr wasn’t a fool. Not for what happened with Carlos, and definitely not for wanting me all those years ago.

  And, right now, there was nothing more important to me than making up for lost time.

  Sam’s apartment was dark but familiar. The layout was not only similar to Mee-Maw’s, but I’d been here so many times when I was younger—when his mom lived here—that it felt strange to see the space with the same framework but a different personality. Sam’s personality.

  The air was cooler; he had a newer air conditioning unit than Mee-Maw. The decor more subdued with calm colors and modern furniture, and, most notably, Mee-Maw’s vibrant and numerous tchotchkes cluttering every surface were absent.

  I kicked my shoes off out of habit, and he led me with one hand back to his room, my heart ticking with the unstoppable impatience of a countdown, knowing what was about to happen would change everything.

  With only the moonlight filtering in through the large front windows, the stars poking through the deep night sky, Sam’s long, muscled limbs rose up, wrapped in shadows and dotted with the tiny, bright reflections of the stars.

  He faced me as we stepped through the bedroom door, the California King bed nestled against the same wall as the bed in my room. Even in the dim ambient lighting, his eyes sparkled.

  “Tally.” Sam lifted my hand and flattened his palm against mine, creating a constellation of desire that tingled where we touched. “Are you sure?”

  My breath caught.

  “I was sure all those years ago, Sam,” I whispered, moistening my lips with my tongue. “Now, I’m desperate.”

  I was desperate for him because he was the missing piece in my heart—the one I’d tried to fill by a change of scenery, by focusing on my career, by dating other people. But it was like trying to fill the night sky with sand instead of stars. No matter how much I threw at the dark canvas, no matter how I tried to ignore the lack of light, it wasn’t the same as the bright luminous orbs that tattooed a sense of direction, encapsulated memories of the past, and fell with the force of a single wish across the sky.

  He let go of my hand, using his thumb and finger to lift my chin.

  “Me, too,” he rasped, capturing my lips with his.

  He kissed me like I was the bomb. I kissed him like he was the fuse.

  And each explosion of need that transpired lit up the space between us with constellations of something magical. Something brilliant and burning that no time nor space could extinguish.

  Teasing my mouth with gentle ferocity, he held me captive by my lips while his hands moved as gently as the wind, breezing over my sensitive skin, goose bumps following in their wake. He slipped the straps of my dress over my shoulders, peeling the fabric down my arms and torso until it dropped with a swish to the floor. In a mirrored, but far clearer version of the night before, I stood in front of him in nothing but my lace bra and matching underwear.

  It hit me how far I’d come.

  From swearing that I’d never make the mistake of falling for my best friend again to eagerly discarding all my senses because it was impossible to fall for a man I’d never stopped wanting.

  Sam held my face as he kissed me, wiping away years with each stroke of his tongue, licking away the scars I’d borne since we’d parted.

  He kissed me until it hurt—until my lips were swollen and sore, my tongue burning raw from where it dueled with his. He replaced the pain he’d previously caused with a new kind, one that burned with the undercurrent of pleasure—the kind that would obliterate whatever uncertainties remained.

  Breaking his mouth from mine, Sam stepped back, scanning my body hungrily. This time, when he reached for the strap of my bra, I caught his hand.

  “I want to see you.”

  I moved superficially out of reach, biting my lip and holdi
ng on to my demand.

  His body rippled, but he complied, reaching one arm over his head and grabbing a fistful of his shirt from behind, pulling it off and discarding it on top of my dress.

  The hard ridges I’d felt under his clothes now gleamed with the polished curves of bare muscle. Hills and valleys that, like everything about this place, were both the same and different.

  My mouth watered, and I stepped forward, reaching to brush my fingertips over the steady thump of his left pec. Tension spread through his body like a crack through ice, extending from my fingers over his torso, along his arms, and down below the waist of his jeans where they bulged in the center.

  I felt lower, over the rise and tumble of each ridge of his abdomen until I met the barrier of his pants. “All of you.”

  “Trouble,” he rasped through tight teeth even as his hands made quick work undoing his belt and jeans. I gave him space as he shoved the denim down his legs and roughly kicked it away.

  Whatever oxygen was left in the room seemed to vacate.

  The man standing in front of me was a sun-soaked Native American god. Dark hair crowned the regal lines of his face. His body seemed carved from only the hardest substance on earth, and the thick ridge of his erection hung heavily against the fabric of his underwear, tenting it forward and pulling it taut against the blunt tip of his cock.

  Fire burned through my veins, and I quivered under the heat.

  My eyes brimmed with the same lust I saw in his when he gazed on my scantily clad form, my nipples poking against the lace and, if the fabric had been lighter, the wetness pooling between my thighs would’ve been clearly visible.

  “Satisfied?”

  “Not yet,” I breathed.

  At that, he grabbed for me, his arms locking around me like red-hot bands, and I twined my own around his neck, grasping the loose strands of his hair as tethers while he kissed me savagely.

  Lifting me with nothing more than the straightening of his spine, my legs wrapped around his waist, shifting until the length of him wedged against my core. He carried me to the massive bed. His mouth traveled along the edge of my jaw and down my neck, stroking my pulse until it beat with the fervor of a war drum.