Secret Confessions: Down & Dusty — Lucky

by Cate Ellink

  ‘So, does it get wild here in the pub?’ Dare’s voice stopped Lucky’s examination of Casey.

  She darted a look at him, then flashed a warning look at Case, willing her to keep her mouth shut tight. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’ Her words were almost bitten out. Too tense. Too closed up. Too much like picking a fight, but he bugged the hell out of her. She’d fought hard to earn respect so she could run this pub properly. A cop undermined her authority, especially when he was living here, and part of her resented that, resented him, as well as being annoyed by his presence.

  Casey swung a look from one to the other, then back again. She scoffed the last of her toast and grabbed both of their empty plates. ‘I’ll, ah, leave you to it.’ Casey left.

  Dare sat back and stared at Lucky. His eyes were icy today, as if her defensiveness had made him angry. But he didn’t do angry. Surely?

  A tinge of guilt made her speak again. ‘I’ve been here, working, for fifteen rodeos. I know what I’m doing.’ Damn it. Still too much steel in her voice. She didn’t know how to soften it. She wasn’t sure she should. He rubbed her the wrong way, even if that wasn’t his intention.

  ‘I don’t.’ His admission was softly given and his eyes lost their iciness. He glanced away.

  ‘Are you worried?’ When he didn’t answer, she stretched her arm and laid her hand over his. ‘Dare?’ Big effing mistake. His hand was warm, muscled, solid. Such a bleedin’ temptation. She wanted to drag it against her body. Suck on his thick fingers. Kiss into his solid palm, follow that with a lick from her flat tongue.

  He turned his head sharply, the movement snapping her from lustful thoughts. He stared at her, then flicked his glance to their hands, then back to her face. A frown ran across his forehead as if he wasn’t sure what to say. She shouldn’t have touched him.

  She pulled her hand away before explaining the weekend. ‘The rodeo runs pretty smoothly. A lot of blokes get on the piss pretty hard, but it’s usually only fights that don’t get too dangerous. Doc has to do a few stitches sometimes, maybe deal with bruises or concussion, but so far nothing serious.’ His stare hadn’t softened any, but the tension seemed less.

  ‘I worry about you, mate.’

  She sat back sharply as if she’d come upon a snake. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He so did not say that. She looked all around the dining room but had to drag her gaze back to his face. She wished she could look anywhere but at him. What in God’s name are you scared of seeing? She couldn’t answer her own question.

  His eyes were more smoke and less ice. Damn it all to hell. He worried about her. She didn’t want him to care. How could she stick to her rules knowing he cared for her?

  ‘You’ve been here a fortnight, hasn’t that shown you I can look after myself?’ He really knew how to get her riled up. ‘Do your job and let me do mine. I can fucking handle it.’ With that, she jumped from her seat and stormed out the back door. Her place was going to be no sanctuary, so she hastened through the buildings, swung over the back fence and strode across the back paddock.

  Goddamn the man. What gave him the right to say shit like that?

  He already made her horny and that was while he annoyed the crap out of her too. Having him say he worried about her only made both those things worse. She didn’t want him here and she sure as hell didn’t want him to care.

  Effing hell.

  He was so much taller than her, his chest so broad, sometimes she wanted to curl up against him and just be held. She wanted those eyes all smoky with desire, for her. She wanted to run her fingers through that brown-blond hair that was too long for his polite perfection. Draw it from his face, hold that floppy fringe back from his forehead like he tried to do a million times a day. Her fingers ached to claw into the shoulders she’d seen exposed by his singlet when he jogged at night or early morning. Not that she’d been looking for him, or listening for him—much.

  Jesus. She was a mess. A horny, aching mess on the one weekend of the year when she had to focus totally and completely on the pub.

  ‘Mate.’

  Damn it. Of course he’d followed her. He was chivalrous. She stopped under a large gum near the creek edge. She could be well mannered too. If she tried hard.

  ‘Knowing you can look after yourself doesn’t stop me worrying.’ The voice of reason was soft and gentle, coaxing. So effing polite.

  ‘I don’t want you worrying about me. I don’t want you thinking about me. I don’t want anything at all.’ Snappy. Snarling. Too much. Why couldn’t she calm down?

  ‘I didn’t either.’ He sounded so resigned.

  ‘Well, fight harder.’ The words exploded from her. When they hit the air, they became totally stupid words. Idiotic words. She wanted him to fight whatever stupid attraction he felt for her—like she was doing. Stupid. Any sensible woman would want the man. Half of her was sensible—the half she let loose on holidays. He was effing hot. Sexy. Full of buttoned-up politeness that hid a seething lust-monster, or so her dreams told her.

  Her lips itched. She looked up at him ready to apologise and try to explain. His face was blank of expression, but his eyes were wide. She’d hurt and shocked him with her outburst. ‘I’m a dick. Sorry.’ She owed him that but she couldn’t explain. She had to keep up the fight against the lust alone, which meant she wasn’t talking about it. Hell, she couldn’t think about it. She wasn’t giving in. She didn’t do sex in Mil Springs. There had to be a way for him to forget about her.

  His expressions ran through shock, sorrow, then a touch of something she couldn’t identify. Sympathy, maybe? ‘What are you so worried about, mate?’

  She shook her head, fast. As if he’d stop asking questions because she didn’t want to face the answers.

  ‘You don’t want to talk about it?’ He sounded disbelieving. Why would he think she’d want to spill her guts? ‘Can I talk about it?’

  Hell. He wasn’t going to give up, was he? She shrugged.

  If he knew about her past, which she suspected he did, that should turn him against her. He wouldn’t want her then. This could work in her favour if she could bury her emotion and deal with that logically.

  ‘Someone hurt you. A long time ago. You trusted them and they spat that right back at you.’ His voice was gentle, but it didn’t calm her one bit. How could the sordid tales of her past be twisted so she was the one being hurt?

  She stiffened. ‘Who told you that?’ She could think of a few people who’d air her dirt to him, probably take great pride in doing so. But none who’d paint her as the victim. No, they’d make her out to be the town whore, which is exactly what had been said about her.

  No matter how bloody hard she worked for respect, some people would never give it to her. She’d made a mistake in her youth and it would live with her forever. The joys of a small effing town.

  He shrugged.

  She turned away. ‘It was fifteen friggin’ years ago.’

  ‘You haven’t forgotten.’

  ‘How could I? I live in Mil Springs, the tiniest pond in living history. Everyone knows what everyone does, what they did, probably what they’ll do in the effing future. So who told you?’ If they’d told him, they must have seen there was something between them. Hell. That was the last thing she needed. She’d worked damn hard for her position in this town and she wasn’t going to lose it again for shagging an unworthy bloke.

  Was Dare unworthy?

  She leant her forehead against the tree trunk. Why this weekend? She had too much to do to worry about her past. Or think about Dare.

  Hands closed over her shoulders, kneading—not exactly gently either. Dare should be gentle and soft, like his polite exterior. But his fingers dug deep into her flesh, kneading tight muscles like they knew what they were doing.

  Digging into her effing soul.

  ‘Stop.’ She spun from him, away from the tree, back into the open. ‘I can’t do this. Not this weekend. I’m flat out. I’ve every room booked, meals will be constant, the place full.’

/>   ‘Next week, we’ll talk.’

  ‘No.’ She stared at him, taking in the icy stare but meeting it with her own, and she wasn’t backing down. ‘I’m not doing this. I have rules and I’m not breaking them.’

  ‘What rules?’

  ‘I don’t have sex when I’m at home. Not in fifteen years. It does not happen.’ Holy hell. Why the hell had she blurted that out? He wanted to talk about her past, not root her. Idiot.

  His eyes. Heaven. They went all smoky. Like in her dreams. Smoky grey with hardly a hint of blue. Maybe he did want that root. But he wouldn’t be worth it. He’d be here and gone in a couple of years max. She had a life sentence.

  She turned quickly and headed across the paddock. ‘Drop it, Dare. I’m not talking anymore.’

  ***

  It was the longest weekend in history. The rodeo went smoothly, just as Lucky had said it would. A few drunken fights. A few people behind the wheel who shouldn’t have been. All in all a weekend that wasn’t anywhere near as terrible as the dreadful images he’d had. Except for Lucky Percival. She was the most frustrating woman he’d ever met. Nothing about her went smoothly. She was so prickly. Closed. Hurt. Hard. All the swearing and tough talk hid someone delicate and sensual. He wanted to know that side—the side no one else saw. The side he glimpsed at rare moments when no one else was around and she let her guard down.

  Monday saw visitors leaving and the clean-up begin. It was not the day to continue his conversation, but he’d talk to her tomorrow. Properly.

  Tuesday morning and breakfast was back to just them. No other guests. Casey had gone too. Lucky burned the toast, the bacon and the eggs. If he had to guess, he’d say she was nervous. And that made him burn even hotter for her. It meant she believed he’d take up the conversation again, and may even mean she’d give him something more than words. His cock tightened. Eager. But the logical part of him didn’t think she’d give him anything. Ever. She had her damn rules.

  ‘Where’s your food?’ he asked as she placed his breakfast and coffee on the table and headed for the back door.

  She shook her head. ‘Not hungry.’ She kept heading outside, not sparing him a backward glance.

  He was out of his chair and behind her before she reached the door to her cottage. His hand closed around her upper arm.

  She didn’t turn, just spoke softly. ‘I’m not doing this, Dare. I’m stuffed. I’m going back to bed.’ Her body stiffened, as if she’d given him too much information. And she had. He didn’t need the image of her going back to bed. His imagination had had her there more times than he could count.

  He wanted to curl his arms around her, pull her back against his chest and nuzzle into her neck. Instead he let her go and stepped a pace back. ‘You didn’t need to get up just to cook my breakfast.’

  She shrugged and shoved her key into the lock, opening her door. ‘Sorry it burned. It should be edible though.’ She stepped through the doorway, still not turning to acknowledge him.

  He shouldn’t. Everything he knew told him to turn, go back to the dining room and eat. He stepped in behind her, curled his hands on the door and closed it softly behind them.

  It was like all the fight had gone out of her. She had to know he was behind her, but she didn’t acknowledge him. She stepped to her bed, chucked her tank off, slid her shorts down her legs and slid between the sheets.

  His mouth was dry. Her back was as muscled as he expected. Tanned and rippling as she undressed. It was her bum that did his brain in. Lush globes of lily white. Globes he imagined fitting perfectly into his tanned hands. Globes he wanted to see parted for his cock. Lily white flesh he wanted to suck and leave reddened from his bite. Rubbed red from his stubble.

  His cock was rigid and throbbing. Heart galloping. Moisture gone from mouth. Brain focused on her body. Those long legs. The tan. The lack of tan.

  The temperature soared twenty degrees in twenty seconds, and had him sweating.

  He blinked.

  He was in her room. Uninvited.

  It was wrong.

  He’d never force himself on her. Never force himself on anyone. And here he was, rock hard, wanting her, almost ready to jump into bed and take her. Wrong. So very wrong. He knew she wasn’t ready. Knew she had rules. Knew he had to treat her better.

  ‘Dare?’ Her voice caused his blood to circulate faster than the bubbles in a newly popped open fizzy drink.

  He grunted. It was all he could manage. Words were beyond what his brain was capable of.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Fucked if I know.’ The words didn’t sound like him at all. All gritty and tight as if he’d growled them through clenched teeth. The knot in his jaw ached. He had said them through clenched teeth. And he’d sworn. He rarely swore. She was rubbing off on him.

  She still had her back to him. He didn’t know if she wanted him, or wanted him to leave. He thought there was an invitation in the way she said his name, but it was most likely his imagination, an invention of his need.

  Her breathing was short as if she couldn’t get enough air. God. It was because of him. He’d scared her. Busting in on her like this. He was a fool.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll leave.’

  ‘You came already?’ There was no mistaking the humour in her question. Each word was filled with mirth. He could almost see her eyes sparkling and her lips pulling into one of those smiles she rarely gave him, but seemed to give others easily.

  Then the underlying meaning of her words worked their way into his thick head. His cock tightened again and his breath lodged in his chest. Was she making a joke about sex? Suggesting they might have sex? He couldn’t get his brain to work. His cock, well, it was working just fine. Strangled, but fully functional.

  ‘Dare?’ Her voice held just a tremor of uncertainty.

  ‘What?’ Not his voice. More like some kind of growl from an animal, he suspected.

  ‘Either come here, or go. I can’t sleep with you hovering.’

  Sleep? Sleep? He looked at her, so tiny in such a huge bed. He turned to the door. He stared at it. Closed. Shutting them inside. Hell.

  There was no way on earth he could turn that door handle and make himself go. No way on earth.

  ***

  He was leaving. She’d thought she’d given enough signals to say she wanted him to stay, but he mustn’t have read them. Or she had no idea about signals. Besides, he was polite and proper. He was probably looking for more than a quick fuck … and in truth, she was too. But it was terrifying to say she wanted more. It was damn difficult to say she wanted anything, but if she didn’t get out of bed and stop him, he’d go. Right now, that was the more terrifying option for her sex-starved, tormented body.

  She slid from the sheets and padded up behind him. Naked. She laid her right hand flat against his shoulder blade. The muscles beneath were bunched tight, jerking beneath her touch. Was that because he wanted her? God, she’d be a right dick if it wasn’t.

  ‘Do you really want to go?’ Her voice was breathless, husky and inviting, but she’d no idea if he’d hear that or if he’d misunderstand her again. ‘I’d like you to stay.’ She slid her other hand to his hip and then over his arse.

  Watching Casey and Joel fight their attraction all weekend had worn her down. They were two people who belonged together and had been too pig-headed to see that. She thought she was principled with her rules, but maybe she was pig-headed too. Fighting against sexual need was tiring and after the weekend she was exhausted. She needed Dare.

  He growled beneath her right palm. She felt it before she heard it. It was a rumble that sent shudders along her arm and across her breast, bunching her nipples into the tightest buds she’d ever experienced. Her breasts ached. Stepping forward, she pressed herself against his back, slid her hand to the front of his t-shirt and rubbed her nipples against the cotton stretched across his back. Sliding her hand over his belly, under his t-shirt, she let her fingers trail through chest hair.
Following it upwards and over his pecs, she rubbed her breasts into his back harder. He had the day off, so wasn’t in uniform, and she had plans for him today. In her bed.

  ‘Mate, you sure you want to do this?’ His voice was tight. His breath ragged. His muscles tense.

  She stepped around him, rubbing against him as she moved. She lifted her face hoping he’d see her need. ‘My name’s Lucinda, if you can’t handle the nickname.’

  Air rushed from him, bathing her in a minty dose of his scent. His eyes went dark, no hint of blue in them. His lips were parted, waiting for her mouth. His hair fell across his forehead and she reached up to slide it back. So soft. Her fingers tingled and a shiver ran all the way to her toes.

  ‘Lucinda.’ He smiled. Her name was rich and fluid as he rolled it from his lips. His eyes danced and sparkled. Tension left him. She reached on tiptoes as he swept his arms around her waist. Their mouths met.

  His lips were soft. Softer than anything she could imagine, making her want to sink into them, have them surround her. Pushing against him, she opened her mouth as his lips caught hers. She nibbled and was nibbled upon. She sucked and was sucked on. She devoured and was devoured. Her tongue slid against his lips. He followed with his tongue. She lashed her tongue against his, he caught and sucked hers as a cascade of fluid dropped through her body and pooled between her thighs.

  Sliding her hands behind his neck and then up into his hair, she held his head at a better angle to taste him more. As her lips and tongue explored his mouth, his hands held her hips more tightly, lifting her and moving her to the nearby desk. The cool wood on the back of her thighs had her gasping and pulling away from him for a second.

  He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and had it over his head and on the floor in an instant. He shucked his shorts and shoes as quickly, then stepped back to capture her mouth, but she wasn’t having that.