“You were there?” Lane asked, stopping midstride.
“Unfortunately,” Mercy replied, her eyes on the ground as she kept moving.
Lane had to widen his stride to catch up with her when his legs started working again.
“His father, right?” Lane asked, confirming what Gracie had already told him.
“That’s the rumor,” Mercy answered with a chuckle. “Although, if I were Grant, I wouldn’t claim the asshole.”
Yeah, well, people weren’t that lucky.
Lane and Mercy stepped into the shop, the huge fans mounted to the ceiling offering a breeze, although it wasn’t cool by any means. The scent of motor oil and dirt floated in the air.
As they moved deeper into the dim building, Lane noticed Cody standing near a makeshift break area, complete with a coffeepot, sink, and a small refrigerator. The guy was pouring three cups of coffee, his gaze continually fluttering over to Mercy, who was wandering around one of the tractors that Cody was working on. She, obviously, was doing everything possible not to look at the shirtless cowboy.
Yep, these two were crazy for each other. How the hell could they not see it?
Lane had to wonder why neither of them was willing to admit it. Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair. Cody was rather obvious with his interest, but Mercy… That woman was so far in denial, Lane was surprised she knew where she was most of the time.
“I heard you and your dad are gonna have a race on Sunday.” Cody was speaking to Mercy as he handed Lane a cup of coffee, his eyes glued to the woman who was hiding on the other side of the tractor.
“Yep,” she answered, her tone dull, as though she were bored.
Right.
Bored.
If it were possible to bottle Mercy’s energy, they wouldn’t need to have guests stay at the ranch because they’d all be rich just selling the stuff.
“Race?” Lane asked. He hadn’t heard about a race. “You and Jerry?”
“Yep.”
“You gonna ride Shadow Mist?” Lane asked Mercy, realizing as soon as the words were out of his mouth that it was a stupid question.
“Yep.”
Well, Mercy was now the one-word wonder.
“Which horse is your dad gonna ride?” Cody asked, clearly wanting to be part of the conversation.
“No idea. Doesn’t really matter. He’s gonna lose no matter what,” Mercy said, her brain obviously reattaching itself to her vocabulary list.
“You gonna be there?” Cody asked, this time his question directed at Lane.
“Damn right.”
He hoped, anyway. That rather depended on where Grant was and what he was doing. If the guy had gone rogue, chasing after his crazy father, Lane had the feeling he’d be on the road at that point.
Trying to track him down.
Shit.
He couldn’t very well stand around and drink coffee while Grant was off doing God knows what. He had to find him. Tossing back the lukewarm liquid as if it were a shot, Lane tossed the cup into the garbage can as he headed back the way he’d come in. “You two kids have fun now. I’ve gotta run.”
Since he didn’t have his phone on him, he would have to grab it first, along with his truck keys, and then … then he was going to take a road trip.
A blast of heat hit him as the sun shone down on his face when he stepped out of the building. With his mind on one thing and one thing only, Lane had to make an effort to turn around and shout back to Mercy, “If anyone’s lookin’ for me, tell ’em I’ll be back later!”
With Mercy calling his name, clearly not happy about being abandoned with Cody, Lane practically ran out of there as fast as his feet would carry him.
Chapter Fifteen
Son of a bitch.
Mercy was going to throttle Lane the next time she saw him.
“So…”
Mercy didn’t respond to Cody’s conversation starter. After the last time they were here… Oh, good grief, woman, do not think about that.
“Uh…” Yeah, so Mercy really had no idea what she was supposed to say. Her mind was blank, mainly because she was forcing it to be. If she allowed herself to think at all, she was going to think about that night when she’d sat astride this man and…
“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Cody asked.
“I’m not thinkin’ about a damn thing.” Other than how freaking hot he looked without a damn shirt on, his sweat-slick chest glistening in the overhead lights.
How in the world could this man talk to her after how crappy she’d been to him last night? Was he made of steel? Did harsh words just ricochet right off him?
“No? You’re blushin’, so I figure it’s gotta be somethin’.”
Mercy squeezed between two of the big pieces of equipment only to find herself stepping out right in front of Cody.
Damn it.
“Leave it alone, Mercer,” Mercy snapped, doing her absolute darnedest not to look down at his chiseled pecs or to remember how hard his shoulders had felt beneath her hands when she’d been riding him. Oh, crap. “The only reason I’m here is so I could talk to Lane.”
“Really?” Cody asked, taking a step closer. So close Mercy could smell him. He smelled like motor oil and … something else that was rather potent. She couldn’t place it, but whatever it was, she’d found herself craving it. Hell, even during that damn dream that she couldn’t seem to get rid of, she could smell him.
Mercy looked up at Cody, praying he didn’t see into her head, praying he didn’t guess what she was thinking. What had happened between them was a mistake. She knew it. He knew it. A big honking mistake that she wished she could take back.
Uh-huh. When did you become the world’s biggest liar?
Mercy didn’t have a chance to throw back a mental argument with that little voice that had taken up residence in her head because the next thing she knew, Cody was tipping her chin up with the edge of one finger — his work-roughened finger that felt way too good touching her — and Mercy’s breath caught in her throat.
“Are you thinkin’ about that night?” he asked, his voice soft, seductive.
She hated his voice.
Liar, liar pants on fire!
Mercy shook her head, all the while, mentally yelling at that little voice in her head, screaming, Yes, dammit, that’s all I think about!
“God, Merce, I can’t think about anything but you,” Cody whispered, the thundering bass of his voice making her insides quake.
Damn him.
“Well, you shouldn’t,” she shot back in a barely there whisper, locking her gaze with his.
His green eyes sparkled like emeralds, even in the harsh florescent lights overhead, and damn it all to hell and back, Mercy wished he would kiss her right then. Cut all the crap, ignore all of the arguments she’d tossed his way, and kiss her, damn it.
“I know,” he agreed. “But I can’t help it.”
Why wasn’t she pulling away from him?
The question pounded inside of her brain, a warning that if she let him touch her, she might just do something incredibly stupid. Again.
Her eyes drifted down his face, over his slightly crooked nose, his smooth cheeks, and landed on his lips. Cody Mercer had the nicest lips she’d ever seen on a man. They were smooth and firm and… Damn it!
He was leaning in close, and Mercy was rooted in place, unable to pull away, unable to push him. The thought of him kissing her again, those delicious, hot kisses, made her knees weak.
No.
No damn way.
Mercy Lambert was not a weak-kneed woman. Not for him or any man.
Thankfully, sanity returned when he was just a hairsbreadth away.
“In your dreams, Mercer.”
Ducking around him, Mercy came out from between his hot freaking body and the equipment just in time to see her father stepping into the shadows of the building.
“Hey, girlie,” Jerry greeted. “What are you doin’ here?”
Saved by the bell!
“Just checkin’ in,” Mercy lied. She was on a roll today, wasn’t she? Turning back to face her father, she added, “I’ve gotta head over to the kitchen. Make sure the dinner menu’s in place.”
“You sure?” Jerry asked, grinning. “You don’t think you oughta be practicin’ for the race?”
And just like that, Mercy forgot all about Cody — or so she told herself. “No practicin’ for me. I’ve got this one in the bag.” Especially since she had something up her sleeve that not even her father would expect.
And with that, Mercy fled Cody’s shop, reminding herself never, ever, ever to go back there. The fact that her father had nearly walked in on them kissing was proof that this infatuation she had with Cody was getting way out of hand.
Hopefully, Cody agreed.
But if he didn’t, that really wasn’t her problem, now was it?
■□■□■□■□
Jerry watched Mercy flee the scene. He fought the urge to laugh, knowing that Cody had turned around to face him.
He had to give the kid credit — whatever had been going on between him and Mercy, the man had masked his expression fairly well. Too bad Jerry knew the kid as well as he knew his own daughters. Cody Mercer had been employed by Dead Heat Ranch for going on seven years now — since the ripe old age of eighteen.
There was something going on between Mercy and Cody. Jerry could feel it. And whatever it was, this wasn’t a new development because the tension between the two of them had been mounting for months now.
“How’s the mower comin’ along?” Jerry moved deeper into the building, walking around behind the piece of equipment in question.
“Should be up and runnin’ within an hour,” Cody replied, his tone brisk yet still kind. If it hadn’t been for the way Cody was rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, Jerry might’ve believed that he wasn’t at all affected by Mercy’s abrupt departure.
“No rush. We’ll just want it by next week.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You gonna watch the race on Sunday?” Jerry asked, unwilling to walk out just yet.
It wasn’t that he was trying to be nosy — okay, yes, he was definitely trying — but he wanted to get a feel for what was going on with Cody. Not just in regards to Mercy, either.
“I’m hopin’ to. I’ve gotta get this done.” Cody tilted his head toward a Bobcat that was sitting in the far corner. “They’re usin’ it to load the remains of the old stable onto a trailer to take to the dump. Someone fuc— er … messed it up yesterday. Grant’s been on my butt to get it fixed ASAP.”
“Do what you gotta do, but be there if you can.”
Cody nodded but didn’t respond as he reached for two white foam cups sitting on the mower in front of him. Hmm… Two cups. That meant he’d been having coffee with Mercy.
“How’s your mom?”
“Never better. She’s goin’ on a cruise at the end of the month.”
A few months back, Cody’s mother had been in the hospital due to dehydration after catching the flu, from what Jerry remembered. “Good to hear. Everything else goin’ okay?” Jerry asked, thrusting his hands into his pockets as he leaned against a steel beam.
“Yup.”
Okay, Jerry knew a brush-off when he received one. Pushing himself off the beam, he nodded at Cody. “Talk to you later then.”
Taking his time, just to see if Cody wanted to add anything to the conversation, Jerry pretended to check out a couple of machines that were sitting near the door. When the screech of metal on metal sounded from behind him, Jerry took that to be his dismissal.
Stumbling upon Mercy and Cody had actually been an accident. He had originally come over to the shop to see if Grant was there, hoping to talk to him for a few minutes. He knew Grant would probably like to hear what the conversation between him and Darrell had entailed. Not that Jerry had much he could say.
Making his way to the house, Jerry thought back to his conversation with Grant’s father earlier that morning. Talking to Darrell Kingsley was like talking to a brick wall. The wheels inside the guy’s head were always turning, but he couldn’t seem to hear anyone else over the squeaking of the rusty gears. It was safe to say that Jerry’s suggestion that the man get some help for his gambling addiction — which Darrell had admitted to — had gone unheeded.
Jerry doubted that was anything new to Grant.
As much as he wished he could do something to help the situation, he knew that getting involved would only cause problems. But after Darrell had blatantly disregarded Gracie and Mercy while his daughters had been in the room, Jerry couldn’t just sit by and allow the man to waltz out the door without at least a few suggestions.
Initially, Jerry hadn’t intended to say a word, but something in the way Grant had looked at Gracie had had him reconsidering.
Was there something in the water around this place?
Hell, he knew his girls were growing up — technically, they weren’t girls anymore, they were incredible young women, but he would always think of them as his little girls — and Jerry wasn’t blind to the way the men on the ranch looked at them. To their credit — his girls’, not the cowboys’ — they were smart to boot. They had all made him proud, so worrying about who they spent their time with had never been an issue for him. Then again, tossing out his threats to skin a cowboy’s hide if he so much as looked at his girls had gone a long way in keeping the men from chasing them around.
Or so he’d thought.
It wasn’t that he would really hurt a man for dating one of his daughters — as long as the guy treated her right — but he knew if he tossed out the warnings from time to time, it would keep the weaker men at bay. Only a man with brass balls would stand up to Jerry when it came to dating one of his girls. And that right there was the sole reason he continued with the trend.
Jerry’s cell phone rang as he was stepping into his office. Snagging it from his pocket, he glanced at the screen and smiled. This was a nice surprise.
“Hey, honey,” he greeted as he closed his office door behind him.
“How are you?” Jan asked, her voice like a balm to his soul.
Jan Haile was the main reason for Jerry’s good mood these last few months. “Better now that you called.”
“I was thinking…”
“About?” Jerry asked as he plopped down into his desk chair, his heart beating double-time just from the soft tone of her voice in his ear. It was crazy what this woman made him feel. Him. At almost fifty-five years old, Jerry felt like a damned young man again, eager and anxious just to talk to this woman on the phone.
“I’d like to see you.”
“It’s been a while, huh?” he replied, trying to remember the last time they’d managed to spend time together. The calendar on his desk told him that he’d been neglecting his woman for more than a week.
“Too long.”
“Why don’t you come out here to the ranch?” he asked. It had been a frequent request of his over the last month or so. Generally, he was met with numerous rebuttals on Jan’s part, all, unfortunately, legitimate, but still frustrating nonetheless. While Jerry wanted to throw caution to the wind and bring Jan to the ranch to meet his daughters, Jan wanted to take things slow.
The woman was incredible, he’d give her that much. But he was getting damn tired of slow.
“Are you sure?”
Jerry sat up straight in his chair. No arguments? “Positive,” he responded quickly. God, he needed to see her. More than he needed to eat or sleep or ... or breathe.
“Tonight?”
“Now is fine,” he told her, loving the way she laughed at his eager response.
“Not now,” Jan stated. “Let’s wait until after dark.”
Jerry hated the fact that they seemed to be sneakin
g around. Actually, there was no “seeming” about it. They were sneaking around and had been for the last eight months since they’d first gotten together. As much as he feared what his daughters would think about him dating someone, Jerry was beginning to grow tired of hiding.
“Fine,” he huffed, smiling as he did. “I’ll see you tonight. Come to my office.” Jerry didn’t need to tell Jan how to find his office because, although she hadn’t been back to the ranch since they’d officially started dating, Jan had been to his office before. Back when she was a guest at the ranch.
That had been nine months ago.
And ever since he’d gotten up the nerve to call her and ask her out, Jerry hadn’t looked back.
Chapter Sixteen
Grant’s cell phone rang for the umpteenth time, but he ignored the damn thing sitting in his truck’s cup holder.
He had been parked in front of his parents’ trailer for the last two fucking hours, waiting for someone to show up. He was hoping his mother would be the one to greet him at the door, to let him know that her cell phone was broken or lost and that was the reason he hadn’t been able to get in touch with her.
No such luck.
When he had arrived around noon, the driveway had been empty, and for the last two hours, the only vehicle he’d seen drive down the narrow road that wound through the trailer park had been an old beat-up Buick that had backfired and nearly given Grant a heart attack.
So, for the first half hour, he had walked around the outside of the trailer, trying to find a way inside without looking too suspicious. Both the front door and the back door were locked, which was a good sign. At least his father was thinking clearly enough to do that much.
When that investigative stint had failed, Grant had climbed back into his truck and cranked the air conditioner on high. For the next half hour, he had sent numerous texts to his father and tried to call his mother three more times. At the sixty-minute mark, he’d been oh for two.
The second hour of his wait had been a little more interesting, but only because Lane was blowing up his phone in an attempt to get in touch with him. As much as it pained him to do so, Grant had ignored every one of Lane’s messages. He did not want to drag anyone into this mess. Hell, as it was, Gracie had already had to endure Darrell’s uncouth behavior early that morning. Grant didn’t see any reason to make anyone else suffer.
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