That Wild Texas Swing

by MJ Fredrick

  He drove past the main house and turned onto the next driveway, to a more modest ranch house, dark and empty. Trace’s place. He glanced at the rearview mirror and saw Trace sit up, his face grim again.

  “You okay?” Killian asked. He knew the answer—how could he be? After twelve years of coming home to a woman, another six coming home to a wife and daughter, coming home to an empty house couldn’t be the same. But as bad as his marriage had been toward the end there…he had to find some peace now.

  “Yeah. I’m good.” He clapped Killian’s shoulder. Liz leaned forward so he could push the seat up and climb out. “Good night, Liz. Nice to see you,” he said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t care one way or the other.

  “You, too.”

  Killian waited until Trace got the key in the door, then he backed out of the driveway and headed down the gravel road toward town.

  “Still living at home?” Killian asked, then winced. He hadn't moved out of his mother’s house too long ago, since Evansville didn’t have a lot of housing choices for singles.

  “I am, but I’d actually love to see your place. I’m talking to Sage about renting me the area above my shop, and I kind of want to see how it would work in reality. You’re living above the bank, aren’t you?”

  There went all the blood again, plunging south. “Yes, I do, but—” The place was a mess, he’d never brought a woman up there. All the excuses tumbled together, and he kicked them to the curb. Liz Salazar was asking to come home with him. Was he really stupid enough to say no?

  He pressed the gas pedal a little closer to the floor.

  By the time he reached his apartment, parking at the courthouse in the center of the square, as he always did, he was shaking. He led her across the street to the door beside the bank, and fumbled with the keys to get in the outer door from the sidewalk. Liz smoothed a soothing hand down his back, not saying a word. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse.

  He led the way up the narrow wooden stairs to a landing with two doors, one to his apartment over the bank, and the other to an empty, unrenovated place over an empty store. He unlocked the door and swung it in.

  “Excuse the mess.” He cleared his throat, heart working overtime, blood rushing in his ears and…lower. “I don’t usually have company.”

  “No problem.”

  He flicked on the light, revealing a wall of large, naked windows looking onto the side street and the hardware store across. His kitchen was at the front of the building, the appliances lined up against one wall, with a small table and two chairs in front. His leather couch sat with its back to the kitchen, facing the flat screen mounted on the wall. That way he could watch TV and still see outside.

  Needing a little distance to keep control of himself, when he wanted to press her against the wall and feel her legs wrap around him, he crossed the room to the corner and pointed outside. “If I stand here, I can see what’s going on at Sage’s place.”

  “That could be handy.” Her voice was throaty and carried a laugh as she followed him.

  So much for the space as her scent, her whole presence enveloped him. His mouth went dry, but when he worked up the courage to reach for her, she moved away.

  “The bank seems bigger than this.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, but it’s corner to corner. Trust me, I checked.”

  She stretched to look out the window at the bar across the street, then turned back to him. “Weird to live above where your sister works?”

  “A little. I still don’t see her very much. But this is better than living home. And it shows the people of Evansville that the town is becoming vibrant again.”

  She smiled. “You sound like Sage.”

  “Maybe that’s why I can work so well with her.” She angled her head at that, and he felt himself blushing. Probably he shouldn’t have brought up another woman—twice—when he finally had the woman of his dreams in his apartment.

  “Is this your bedroom?” She pointed to the door that stood ajar.

  “Ah, yeah.” Strewn with exercise clothes, discarded water bottles and, well, at least he’d washed the sheets last week.

  She walked to the other side of the room, her heels clicking on the polished wood floor, and pushed the door open the rest of the way. She smiled over her shoulder at him, then walked in. “And the bathroom?”

  “Ah. Yeah. And the washer and dryer.” In the closet by the bathroom.

  “Big bed.” She turned to face him as he hesitated in the doorway. “It takes up a lot of space, I mean. I don’t think I have this much space over my salon.”

  “I’m not here very much, so I don’t need much space.”

  He needed a lot right now. He should run all the way back to the windows—all the way back to his car. But he took another step into the room, and she turned to face him, hair swinging.

  “I don’t either.”

  He didn’t see her move, but suddenly she was in front of him, her hands on his chest, sliding up to his shoulders.

  “I can’t believe I never noticed how beautiful your eyes are,” she murmured. She trailed her fingers up the back of his neck to his hairline, then swept one finger across his cheek. She smiled when his stubble rasped beneath her skin, then stretched up on her toes.

  Automatically, his hands went to her hips as she brushed her lips over his. Damn it, no, he had waited a long time to be with her, he wasn’t going to let her take charge. He pulled her closer, slid his hand from her waist up her back, his fingers threading through her hair.

  She gave a soft sigh against his mouth and settled closer, her breasts firm against his chest. He traced his tongue over her lower lip, and she parted her lips for him.

  God, she tasted incredible, a little sweet from the margaritas she’d been drinking, but her own flavor underneath, warm and smoky. He trailed his fingers through her hair and cupped her head in his hand, angling her for him.

  She dragged her hands between them, over his chest, to his stomach, then back up to toy with his tie. He’d forgotten he was even wearing it. She tugged at the knot a couple of times before it came loose and she tugged it from beneath his collar. After she tossed it aside, she reached for the opening of his shirt to unfasten buttons.

  Then her hands were on his skin, gliding over his chest, through his chest hair, and she made a humming sound of approval in her throat before she stepped back, breaking the kiss. As he watched, she grabbed the hem of her shirt and drew it over her head.

  He tried not to stare like an idiot at her perfect breasts, the tips angled up from the fullness, dark and tight. He may have made a strangled sound, because she laughed and moved close again.

  Her breasts were in his palms—he didn’t even remember moving his hands, only remembered wanting so much to touch her. The warm soft flesh filled his palms, his thumbs sweeping over her tight nipples, making her gasp.

  He liked making her gasp. He liked it a lot. This time he was more commanding as he brought his mouth down on hers, his tongue stroking deep inside her mouth until all he could think about was being inside her body.

  He trailed one hand from her breast to her back, and danced her toward the bed. But then she twisted and he was the one who landed on his back, Liz over him, straddling his lap, her arms braced by his shoulders, blue-tipped hair swinging forward, a wicked smile tilting her full lips. He’d barely caught his breath when she leaned down to kiss him, her mouth hot and mobile, her breasts rubbing against his chest.

  His arousal was painful, and he lifted his hips against hers. She smiled against his mouth and rolled against him in a sultry rhythm until he thought he was going to embarrass himself. He gripped her ass to hold her still.

  He rolled her beneath him, needing to get his mouth on her breasts. Damn, it was all going too fast. He wanted to savor her, wanted to taste every inch of her. He kissed her mouth, hard but brief, then dragged his lips down her jaw to her ear, then down her throat. God, she smelled amazing, and
he ached to be inside her.

  She pushed the shirt from his shoulders, gliding her fingertips over his arms, finding the definition he’d worked hard to achieve, then continued down his back. He flexed, unable to help himself, and she gave a soft laugh, rewarding him with a quick grasp of his ass. This time he flexed his hips into the cradle of her legs, and she rewarded him with a groan.

  “Don’t take too long, Mr. Mayor.”

  “No ma’am.”

  Together they worked free of the remainder of their clothes, and she was laughing, but not at him, and then she was touching him, her hand on him. No lie, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, fighting for control.

  The sound of a condom wrapper mobilized him. He took the wrapper from her hand—had she brought it with her?—and put it on himself. When she would swing her leg over his hips and rise over him, he tumbled her onto her back, sliding his touch over her before he entered her.

  Both of them groaned then. He didn’t want to move right away, so close to the edge, and then he did, and she was wrapped around him as they found their rhythm, rode it out, the scent of her filling him, the taste of her, the softness of her.

  She showed him what she liked, the touch she needed, and she rolled beneath him, breath coming hot and fast, then escaping on a moan. She wrapped tight around him, pulling him under with her.

  He was lost for a moment in a haze of lust and pleasure, grasping at the softness of her body, then the haze cleared, and she was smiling up at him, so pretty and perfect.

  “I can’t believe we never did that before,” she said, stroking her fingers down the side of his face, following the line of sweat he hadn’t felt.

  He could. She was his sister’s friend, and hadn’t had a reason to look twice at him until lately. “As long as we do it again.”

  She laughed again and rolled from beneath him. “Bathroom in there?” She pointed to a door.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to imagine how bad it was in there. “Ah, yeah. Maybe I should go in first.”

  “I can’t wait, sorry.” She dashed, naked, across the clothing-strewn floor and into the bathroom, closing the door twice before the latch caught.

  He sat up and disposed of the condom, then…had no idea what to do. He’d never brought a woman to his apartment, and didn’t know what protocol was. Did he put his underwear back on? Get under the covers? He was going to have to take her home, but when?

  The bathroom door opened and she crossed to the bed and crawled up on it, against his side. She smoothed her hand over his chest and rested her chin on him. Liz Salazar, naked against him. Already, he was growing aroused.

  “So, all this is from running every morning?” She slid her palm over his stomach.

  “Running and eating better. Some weights.”

  “So what prompted the effort?”

  And there went the arousal. His motivation was hardly sexy. But she’d asked, and he believed in honesty above all. He trailed his fingertips up and down her arm. “You remember when my dad died a couple of years ago?”

  “Yes, it was horrible. I didn’t think he was that old, you know?”

  “Well, yeah, I mean, we’re his second family, so he was close to seventy, but he didn’t take care of himself. He ate badly, he wasn’t active, he had diabetes and heart disease. He would still be with us if he’d just taken care of himself. I went to the doctor shortly afterwards and found out I’d developed diabetes. So I decided to make some changes so I didn’t follow his path.”

  “I’m really impressed. That takes some dedication.”

  She had no idea. “Want to go running with me tomorrow?”

  She laughed. “Honey, if you ever see me running, that means something’s chasing me.”

  He shifted to face her, following the curves of her body with the backs of his fingers. “With a body like this, you don’t need to run.” His touch lingered on her tattoo. “So what’s the story here?”

  “My favorite flower.”

  He didn’t press. “I wondered if you’d have more tattoos.”

  “Disappointed? They hurt, you know.”

  He laughed and turned her to kiss her tattoo. “A little. I’d like to see one here.” He traced light circles on the small of her back. “And here,” he tapped the curve of her breast.

  “Why, Mr. Mayor. You’re kind of scandalous, aren’t you?” she asked, and kissed him again.

  Lunchtime couldn’t come fast enough. Killian and Sheriff David Treviño had a standing lunch date at Coyote Moon, the bar and grill across the square. The scent of the fried foods and barbecue were a temptation, but Killian stuck with his salad, occasionally indulging in some lean brisket without the sauce.

  Today he was so hungry, he might give into the lure of the brisket.

  He grabbed his suit jacket from the coat tree by the door, adjusted his tie and headed out.

  “Going early to lunch?” his secretary Norma Fitzhugh asked.

  “Want me to bring you something?” her asked as he did every day.

  She shook her head. “I’m going home for lunch. I can cook better than old Charlie any day. You should let me bring you lunch.”

  “The people expect to see me at the Canyon during the week. If I don’t show up, it makes them nervous.” Not to mention that he knew for a fact that she bought a pound of butter a week. Once upon a time, he would have loved to let her feed him. Now, he didn’t dare.

  “I’ll be back at one.”

  “Good, because you know Sage will be waiting.”

  He didn’t roll his eyes, which he was sure Norma was expecting. Instead, he nodded and walked out.

  He took the long way, crossing the street instead of the parking lot, so he’d have an excuse to walk by Liz’s place, wanting a glimpse of her. When he’d woken up this morning, she’d been gone, but that hadn’t surprised him. Hurt a little? Sure. But Liz was nothing if not cautious with her feelings—she always had been.

  He’d spent most of the morning staring into space, reliving last night and wishing like hell he’d acted years ago.

  Cars filled the slanted parking spaces in front of her shop. He paused a moment to look at the slanted letters above the shop, proclaiming it Salazar’s Salon. He’d asked her last night why that, and not something cute, like Curl Up and Dye.

  “My sisters wanted me to name it ‘The Best Little Hair House in Texas,’ but I wanted something with a little more sophistication. I mean, I put a lot of money in there. I didn’t want it to look like Dolly Parton’s place in Steel Magnolias.” She’d sighed. “And, maybe it’s narcissistic, but I wanted to see my name up there, part of something I’d worked hard for.”

  She was working hard now, that was for sure. All the chairs lined up along the wall and by the windows were occupied. Liz’s head bent over Teresa Morgan’s head. Teresa and her family had moved into her mother’s house after she passed, and well, she wasn’t the most pleasant of women. The tension in the line of Liz’s body told him she wasn’t having an easy time with the woman, either.

  Ah, well, any hope he had of Liz showing up at the Coyote for lunch was dashed by the line of customers she had waiting. So he continued on.

  The Coyote kept a table reserved for him and Sheriff Treviño, by the window so the townsfolk could check to see if he was there, come in and talk if they wanted. His father had started this tradition years ago, when the Coyote was called the Evansville Diner, back when the county was dry. Killian was happy to continue making himself available to his constituents, though for a while there, the association with food had been a challenge. But he overcame it. He liked hearing what the people had to say.

  Cassidy Simon, one of the lunch waitresses, brought him his unsweet tea with a smile. “Your usual today, Mayor?”

  He wasn’t much older than she was, so her term of address felt odd. “I think I’ll have a small serving of brisket with that salad today.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Going to be a
long day?”

  “I have a meeting with Sage McKenna after this.” As soon as he said the words, he wished them back. Cassidy was engaged to Sage’s brother Grady. Then again, if anyone knew how stubborn Sage could be, it was her future sister-in-law.

  “Maybe you need some potato salad, too,” Cassidy teased.

  His stomach rumbled, but he shook his head. “Sheriff’s late today?”

  “You’re early.” She turned away, and out of nowhere, Allison Bonner popped up, and sat at his right elbow.

  He almost choked on his tea. He hadn’t seen her in the restaurant, and he hadn’t heard the bell over the door. She was like a damned blonde ninja.

  “Hey, Killian. Heard about Sage’s grand opening?”

  Of course he had. The banner advertising the opening of her new bar, The Sagebrush Saloon, had hung on the corner opposite the bank for a week now. “Sure.”

  “She has some great bands lined up. Are you going to go?”

  “Sure.” He dragged the word out, almost like a question, having a pretty good idea where this was leading. His mother adored Allison, thought she’d be a wonderful mayor’s wife. Killian just…found her a little overbearing. When he married, which he’d only started thinking about recently, he wanted someone he could be a true partner with, someone he could talk to, someone he could be himself with. He never felt that way when Allison was around. She always put him on his guard.

  “I think it would be so much fun if we went together,” she said, taking the bull by the horns when she couldn’t get him to suggest it. “Don’t you think?”

  “I, ah, I hate to commit to something like that this soon. I don’t want to disappoint you if something comes up.”

  She let out a trilling laugh, designed to be charming, no doubt, but it grated on his nerves. He felt petty even thinking that.

  “What, like a mayoral emergency? In Evansville?” She waved a dismissive hand.

  More like enough balls to ask Liz to accompany him. Geez, he didn’t want to hurt Allison’s feelings but he just wasn’t interested in a relationship with her, even if he hadn’t slept with Liz last night. Other than flat-out saying it, which he didn’t want to do, he didn’t know how to discourage her.