That Wild Texas Swing

by MJ Fredrick

  Killian was stopped on the way out by Jerry Jimenez, the same councilman who’d been sitting behind them. Killian released her hand with a smile and she moved away, giving him privacy. She stood near the concessions to wait, watching the workers clean the last of the popcorn out of the popcorn maker.

  “Liz! Liz Salazar!”

  The hair on the back of her neck lifted a split second before she was lifted off her feet and spun around. The scent of horse, hay and man enveloped her before she could push back to see who held her.

  Lord. Devin Stovall. She remembered his name only because he used it to address himself repeatedly. Last year he’d been hurt and hadn’t ridden in the rodeo, hadn’t come to Evansville, but the year before, well, they’d spent a few adventurous hours together.

  She slid down his body and pushed away. “Devin. I didn’t know you rode today.”

  He didn’t take offense at her retreat. Instead, he took advantage and leaned back to run his gaze over her, head to toe, lingering on her legs.

  “Rode, and won some money.” He clapped a hand to his chest. “I’m hurt you didn’t notice. You look as smoking hot as ever.” He lifted the ends of her hair, smiling at the burgundy tips. “Damn, girl. Let’s go get a drink.”

  “I can’t. I’m with someone.” Saying the words felt foreign. Had she ever said them before?

  “Never say. You’re too much of a party girl to be with one guy.”

  “Not anymore.” The fact that she meant it surprised her as much as Devin.

  “That just breaks my heart. I was so looking forward to a long night in your arms.”

  “Liz.”

  She’d never heard that tone in Killian’s voice before. She met his gaze over Devin’s shoulder and felt her heart drop. It was one thing for him to know about her reputation, but to see her in another man’s arms… She took another step back from Devin, who turned to look at Killian.

  Her stomach heaved as the men sized each other up, and she rounded Devin to stand beside Killian. She wanted to take his hand but wasn’t sure of his reaction. Would he pull away? She couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating, so she didn’t touch him, though she hoped he’d touch her.

  After a moment, he did, his fingertips on her hip just above her waist, not possessive as much as reassuring.

  “Killian, this is Devin,” she said, her voice a little breathy.

  “You won some money,” Killian said.

  “Ah, yeah. I’d thought to spend some of it on Liz, but I guess she’s with you now.”

  “That’s right.”

  Killian’s voice was flat, not at all his usual amiable tone. From the corner of her eye—she didn’t dare look at him face-on—she could see his expression. No emotion. She’d never seen him like this, and it scared her.

  “Treat her right,” Devin said, taking a step back and turning. “She deserves it.”

  Killian’s fingers flexed on her waist. “Yes she does.”

  She didn’t move until Devin was out of sight, until she felt Killian relax beside her.

  “Ready to go?” he asked, his voice back to normal.

  “That’s all you’re going to say?” They’d just come face to face with who she was—who she’d been until the night she went home with Killian. Wasn’t he going to call her on it?

  “What do you want me to say, Liz?” His tone edged toward exasperation.

  What did she want him to say? Did she want him to send her away? To remember she wasn’t good enough for him, for the place he’d invited her to, and tell her forget it? Or did she want him to tell her all was forgiven?

  “This is just the first time something like that will happen.”

  He pivoted and crowded her against the rail by the bleachers. She trembled a little, not because she was afraid of him, but because he never used his physical superiority to get his point across. She had to admit, she was a little turned on.

  “You don’t get it. I know who you are.”

  Her desire shriveled at that, and then his lips turned down, like he saw where her thoughts were headed.

  “No, Liz. I know who you are.” He repeated the words, this time placing his hand on her chest above the opening of her blouse. “I know you. And he’s right. You deserve to be treated well. And I intend to be the man to do it.”

  She didn’t know what to make of that, couldn’t think of words. What did a woman say to a declaration like that? They’d been dating a few weeks and he wanted to be the man in her life? She knew he wanted a relationship, but did she even know how to do that? And what about what he deserved?

  When she didn’t say anything, some of the fervor went out of his eyes and he stepped back, his hand falling from her chest. For a moment, she thought he might walk away, but then he wrapped his hand around hers and led her to the parking lot.

  *****

  She made him take her by the house to change into her sundress before they headed to the festivities in town. Once again, the center of town was lined with food booths and folding tables and chairs, and a few rides for the kids down the street in front of the salon. Everything was red, white and blue. Liz didn’t want to admit the kick it gave her to see everyone in the town out together, having fun, celebrating in their holiday clothing. She’d never been a rah-rah love-my-town girl, but seeing this, yeah, maybe she was a little.

  She wanted to reach for Killian’s hand but didn’t want to embarrass him.

  “Hey, did you make it to the rodeo?” Killian asked Trace as they walked up to the volunteer fire department’s barbecue booth.

  “Yeah, for a little bit.” Trace shook his head and rubbed his side. “Watching those kids fall made me hurt.”

  Killian laughed and hooked his arm around Liz’s waist, drawing her up beside him. “You cook all this?”

  “Nobody knows barbecue better than a firefighter.” Trace turned to the curly-haired blonde beside him. “You want to fix them up? He’s my friend, so give him the best cuts.”

  “Are you a volunteer firefighter too?” Liz asked the woman as she handed over plates.

  “No, I’m a friend of Grady’s.” She motioned with her head toward the younger McKenna brother, who was turning a brisket on one of three grills. “I make a mean potato salad, so they recruited me. I’m Juliana, by the way.”

  “Liz. And this is Killian.”

  “I know Killian. Y’all enjoy.” She flashed a smile and turned back to work.

  “Now that was interesting,” Killian said as they walked toward the dais, balancing big cups of tea and loaded-down plates.

  “What was interesting?”

  “The way Trace looked at her. Did you see it?”

  She didn’t deal with Trace much, but every time she saw him, he was scowling. She was pretty sure she hadn’t seen his expression change while they were at the booth.

  “I don’t think he’s smiled since Mandy left.”

  “Well, maybe this wasn’t a smile, but there was definite interest there.”

  “Are you playing matchmaker, Mr. Mayor?”

  “Sure, maybe that will be my next career. Finding someone to make someone else happy.” He held out a hand to help her up on the dais.

  They were going to have to eat off their laps, and people might be watching, but they’d be able to see everything going on around them. She wondered if that was part of the appeal of being mayor—keeping a finger in everyone’s business.

  Several people already sat on the raised platform. Liz swallowed her nerves. She knew how to deal with people, even people who judged her. Lord knew she had plenty experience.

  “I have gotten more compliments on these tips,” Marjorie Lozano, one of the councilwomen, said, leaning across Killian and tapping her blue streaked hair. “My daughter thinks I’m ridiculous, acting too young, but it’s fun, don't you think? Jessica did such a great job.”

  Liz had been wary when the forty-something mother of the Bluebonnet Queen had come into the salon wanting patriotic hair and nails. But she had t
o admit, the electric blue was really becoming on the woman, and did make her seem more alive and upbeat.

  “The kids want to think they own all the cool stuff,” Liz said. “They don’t remember that others came before and did even crazier things.”

  “I swear, if I’d been braver when I was a teenager, I would have had blue hair, pink hair, purple hair. And I would have gotten a tattoo.” She touched the hibiscus on Liz’s shoulder. “This is so pretty and feminine.”

  “It’s not too late,” Liz said. “Plenty of moms get them now.”

  Marjorie waved a hand. “But I wouldn’t know what to get. Why did you decide to get yours?”

  “I love hibiscus. they’re so beautiful and bright. But they only bloom for one day, so if you miss it, you’ve missed that beauty. So it reminds me to appreciate beauty every day. I don’t always remember,” she added with a wry smile.

  Marjorie’s eyes widened. “What a wonderful sentiment. I never knew, you know, if it’s okay to ask someone about their tattoos. They just fascinate me.” She patted Liz’s hand. “I’m so looking forward to getting to know you better when we get to work on the Thanksgiving dinner.”

  Liz didn’t even know how to ask what that meant when Marjorie sat back, leaving Killian free to take her hand in his own.

  She resisted the urge to pull away, instead looking into his eyes, seeing the warmth and affection there, and letting it reassure her.

  She relaxed a bit as more people came by to say hello. Everyone was in high spirits, at least that was her impression. And everyone was friendly to her, though she noticed some pointed looks at Killian’s hand wrapped around hers, or his knee pressed against hers. She heard someone say, “Like father, like son” as they walked away. Was that true?

  “Would you look at that?” Killian asked softly, leaning close to her and pointing discreetly in the direction of his sister, who was walking with Hollywood. They weren’t touching, but Jackson had his head bent to hers and was smiling. Maggie was damn near radiant in her fitted flag t-shirt and white shorts.

  “Finally,” Liz breathed, and wished the couple would stop over, so she could think of something other than how out of place she felt.

  The sun dipped behind the buildings on the square as they ate, casting the lawn in shadow, cooling the air so that some of the young boys started throwing a football around. At one point, the football came hurtling toward the dais, right toward Liz’s head, and Killian’s hand shot up to catch it before it hit her.

  She wasn’t the only one to stare in surprise at his agility. He grinned and shrugged, then tossed the ball back to the boys.

  “Come on, Mayor!” one of the boys called. “Come toss it around with us.”

  “Go ahead,” Liz urged when he looked over his shoulder at her. “I’d like to see this.”

  His grin broadened, then he kissed her forehead and hopped down to the kids.

  Before long, Grady and Trace had joined in, along with Charlie from the Coyote, Mason and Bryan and Tony from the Sagebrush. Liz had to laugh at the delight the young boys took in tackling the big men. Killian caught the ball on his fingertips, and Liz didn’t know who was more surprised. Grady wrapped his arms around Killian’s waist and took him down hard on the lawn.

  Liz was on her feet, ready to go to him, but he lay on his back and laughed before Grady pulled him to his feet and they returned to the game.

  When Killian returned to her side, he was sweaty, dirty and happy, though he was rubbing his ribs. “Always wanted to do that,” he said. “Was never particularly athletic before.”

  “You looked like you were having fun.”

  He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “I am. Especially when I had my own cheerleader.”

  Allison popped up beside him, strangling the laugh in Liz’s throat. The woman looked like a firecracker, from the red and white striped pencil skirt to the starred denim shirt. Even her earrings were dangling stars.

  “Almost time for the fireworks,” she said. “You’re going to say a few words?”

  He had at every celebration since he’d been mayor. “I’ll be right there.”

  She gave his disheveled clothes a once-over, then strode off.

  “Whatever happened with her and the marshal?” Liz asked.

  “You know, he never said. But whatever it was, she’s still wound as tight as ever.”

  “Maybe he’s not what she wants. He said he’s not sticking around, and one thing we know about Allison. She sticks.”

  “We do know that.” He leaned over and kissed her lips briefly. “I need to go do mayor stuff. Wait for me here. I want to watch the fireworks with you.”

  If she thought she’d felt pride seeing the town bedecked for the festivities, it didn’t compare to the sight of her guy stepping up to the microphone in front of the town. Her heart swelled with the applause for him. He was a good man, a strong man, and he scared the hell out of her.

  “Let’s hear it for Allison and her committee,” he said. “The town looks better than ever.” He swung his hand to encompass the courthouse and the square. “They pull it together every year, with lots of hard work.”

  The crowd cheered, then Killian took a step forward, the microphone raised to his lips, commanding their attention.

  “You know, Evansville has had its ups and downs. A lot of us have been here through the worst times, when there were no jobs, when businesses were closing left and right, businesses that had been here for years. And now we’re seeing businesses come back, people are working, things are swinging up. But here’s the thing that never changes. Bad times or good times, we stick together. Bad times or good times, we work side by side. It’s not always easy. God knows we’ve got things to worry about—the drought, the trouble with the trucks coming through town, but let me say this. We say we’re ‘one nation under God.’ I say we’re one town under God, but we’ve got His special attention, because Evansville is right in the middle of God’s country. Now. Let’s see some fireworks.”

  He placed the microphone back in the stand and hopped down, finding Liz without error, pulling her back to his chest as the streetlights dimmed and the first firework shot off the top of the Sagebrush.

  “I hope nothing catches on fire,” Liz said. “Sage might just implode.”

  “She volunteered to let us shoot the fireworks off from there,” he said. “I trust that she has every possibility covered.”

  She nestled in his arms, and let herself enjoy the show, the pops and sparkles and sprays of light. Killian rubbed his cheek against hers, then dipped his head, taking her earlobe between his teeth and tugging.

  “You’re not watching the fireworks,” she gasped.

  “Making my own,” he replied, tightening his arms around her. “Come home with me tonight?”

  She nodded her head, amazed she had that much control of her body as he turned her bones to mush, all with his lips and breath. She turned her face toward the sky, the lights of the fireworks, and felt the sparks echo inside her.

  When the display ended, he took advantage of the dispersing crowd and led her across the street to the entrance to his apartment. She was aware of people walking past them and kept her head down, not wanting anyone to know her intentions, knowing they’d see the desire in her eyes. She prayed no one would call her name as Killian fumbled with the key.

  But then they were inside and she could take a breath. He tugged her up the stairs, stopping halfway to pin her to the wall and slam his mouth down on hers, pulling on her lips, stroking deep with his tongue, his hands insistent as they moved from her waist and over her ass, pulling her against his growing arousal. She shoved at him and slipped away, hurrying toward the door at the top of the stairs, needing him more than she ever expected to need a man.

  Once inside, she was hyperaware of all the windows, no curtains, the streetlights on now and streaming light into the room. He didn’t turn the light on, turned her to the wall and pressed her against it, lifting her legs to wrap aroun
d his waist.

  “Killian.”

  He shushed her and pushed against her, hard, until she thought the top of her head might pop off. He pushed again when her nails dug into his shoulders, and again when her head fell back with a thud against the wall.

  He glided his hands beneath her skirt, over her thighs, and he tugged at her panties. She couldn’t help him, not the way he had her against the wall, so he tore them. Killian Dawson, mayor of Evansville, shredded her panties, and she moaned with the wildness of it.

  Then his fingers were inside her, his mouth at her throat.

  “Not yet, not yet,” she panted, pulling at the shoulders of his shirt. “Killian.”

  “Sh,” he said against her skin, and pumped his hand faster against her until her entire being focused on the movement, tightened around it. She didn’t want to climax yet, but he wasn’t listening, was determined, and she couldn’t fight the sensation.

  She cried his name this time, the word echoing across the empty space of his apartment as the orgasm rolled through her. She curled into him as it ebbed, leaving her panting and weak. He wrapped his arms around her and carried her into the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed, at odds with the way he’d just pinned her to the wall.

  “Naked,” she managed.

  “Yes,” he agreed, stripping his shirt off and tossing it aside, then unbuckling his pants and letting them fall to the floor. His erection strained the knit of his boxer briefs, and then they, too, were gone. He stretched out beside her on the bed, once again reaching beneath her skirt to stroke her thighs, which fell apart for him.

  “I don’t…” she began, and then he kissed the inside of her knee and she forgot what she was going to say. Forgot her name as he traveled upward, forgot where she was when he reached his destination. She buried her fingers in his hair and rode out the second orgasm with only a whimper this time.

  Then he was over her, the sound of the condom being opened barely audible over the panting as he looked into her eyes and positioned himself. He entered her in one fluid move, sending her quivering all over again.

  Her sundress was caught between them, crushed beyond redemption, but right now she couldn’t care. Killian surrounded her, his body, his scent, his taste, and she wanted to savor every moment as she bowed into him.