by KC Klein
Blondie had done her hair in soft curls down her back, and in her strapless red dress and very high f-me shoes, she was definitely on the hunt—a hunt for a rich, available man. He hated to tell her that wasn’t him. He was rich, all right, but definitely not available—at least not in the way she was hoping. She’d figure it out soon enough. They all did.
At his father’s social events these women were a dime a dozen, or as he liked to joke with his buddies, for every natural beauty there were a dozen women cosmetically enhanced. Not that he was complaining, he liked boobs, real or fake. But those weren’t the only type of women at these campaign dinners. There were older ones—usually with enough power and money to maintain their unnaturally thin bodies and faces pulled tight and pumped with Botox. Those were the ones he had to watch out for because, like it or not, the pretty ones were usually related to the unnaturally thin ones with faces pumped full of Botox.
It was all part of the game, wielding power and influence through a show of elegant ballroom parties with overpriced food. His father’s main objective as a senator was to work the room securing campaign funds. Jett’s was simply to make sure everyone invited had fun. It was a fine line keeping the hookups short and sweet for everyone involved, but he’d had a lot of practice.
Blondie crossed and uncrossed her legs, angling her body even more toward him, a sure sign that he was taking her home tonight—even if he hadn’t asked yet. Her name was Ana Price. A sweet name for such a goal-oriented girl, but what would one expect with a father who was one of the wealthiest oilmen in Texas. A person didn’t make it to the top by playing footsie.
Jett took her hand and brought her ring finger up to his mouth for a whispered kiss. He loved women—loved how sweet their skin smelled, how full their lips were, how their eyes told him when their reservations about coming home with him had melted. Ana’s pale eyes were like puddles in her face.
He smiled and unobtrusively felt for his keys in his pocket as he stroked the soft skin at her wrist. All it would take was one last push. Something along the lines of how he was staying at the five-star hotel not far from here or that he had a bottle of champagne waiting on ice in his room. All things that could be made true in one press of the speed dial on his phone.
Then said phone vibrated in the side of his tux jacket. He ignored it. Not important, not now. His phone went silent and then started its annoying buzzing again.
“I don’t mind if you answer. It may be important.” Ana’s face had lost a bit of that dreamy look.
He grinned. “Whoever’s calling is not nearly as important as who I’m talking to.”
There, the dreamy look was back.
His phone went off again. He refused to groan out loud.
“Go ahead. I’m not going anywhere.” Ana slipped on a sexy grin as easily as one would a silky scarf and pulled her hand from his grasp.
Yeah, maybe. He held up a finger. “One moment.” But for reassurance he softened his words and took back her hand, placing a kiss in the center of her palm.
Jett stepped away from the table and glanced down at the caller ID. His gut tightened. His night was gone before he could even answer. He grunted a hello.
“Hey Jett, it’s me, Suzy.”
“I know.” He gave himself credit that he could grind even that much out. It wasn’t Suzy’s fault that she worked at the police station and seemed to have his number on speed dial.
“Well, what do you expect from a Logan?” Suzy sounded tired. She didn’t like working the night shift.
He couldn’t speak—the muscles controlling his vocal cords were frozen. He stretched his jaw from side to side and tried to remember how to breathe.
“Ahh . . . so you coming or what? I can’t be here all night. Don has trouble sleeping when I’m not there.”
Jett disconnected before he’d let out the words building up inside. He had to remember it wasn’t Suzy’s fault. Nope, he’d save his choice phrases for the person who really was to blame.
He turned back toward Ana. Her green eyes were so clear and simple, her face so willing and uncomplicated. He sighed. He liked clear and simple. Liked willing and uncomplicated.
So then, why was he determined to get involved with the most drama-ridden, complicated, smart-mouthed woman he’d ever known?
Jett walked into the police station, the sound of his dress shoes echoing on the polished cement floor. There were rows of empty desks, some cleaned off, some piled with papers. Sheriff O’Hannon ran a tight ship. His station was clean and neat, displaying his philosophy that just about any chaos could be managed with a broom and a mop.
Suzy looked up from behind her desk, a worn paperback romance in her hand, dark intelligent eyes a sharp contrast to the soft roundness of her face. Like most people in Grove Oaks, they had known each other their entire lives. And though at 5 feet 4 inches Suzy wasn’t the most intimidating officer of the law, she had a knack of finding the significant pieces in a person’s story and rooting out the truth.
He took pride in being able to sweet-talk any woman from nine to ninety, but tonight he seemed to have met his quota for game playing. Instead, he just dove in. “What is it this time?”
Suzy shrugged her plump shoulder. “I think it was officially disorderly conduct, but it could’ve been inciting a riot. Some of the deputies are getting a little creative in their charges.”
“Where at?” Jett had undone his bow tie, but still tugged on his collar.
“The Pitt. Mike’s not too happy. I hear they trashed his bar good.”
“Anyone hurt?” If Mike had called the cops, things must’ve been bad.
Suzy shook her head. “No, but I hear Mike banned her from his bar.”
Jett groaned and rubbed at the pain that was starting on the side of his head. Not good. Not good at all. “Has bail been set?”
“Not officially, but Sheriff O’Hannon won’t let her go until the damages to the Pitt are covered.”
“Which are?”
“A thousand.”
“Dollars!?” Jett usually didn’t yell, but he seemed to be on edge tonight. Maybe it was because he should be soaking in a hot tub at the luxury hotel, drinking champagne from the navel of Ana Price, or maybe he was just sick of being the cleanup crew.
“We stopped accepting chickens about a decade ago, so yeah, dollars will work.”
“I don’t have a thousand dollars.”
Suzy raised one eyebrow like some hard-boiled detective who’d just been fed a line.
Jett threw up one hand. “Okay, I don’t have a thousand on me.” Hell, some people in this town thought he was a walking ATM.
“No worries.” She placed the book facedown and started tapping keys on her computer. “I can charge your account. I have your card on file from last time.”
“I have an account?” He had accounts in some of the finest bars, hotels, and stores across Texas. To think he had an account at Grove Oaks county police station was a humbling thought. Humbling and rather socially terrifying.
“Customary after the first three transactions.” Suzy might as well have added a duh for the look she gave him.
“Suzy?” He said her name real slow, more for his benefit than for hers. “Exactly how many transactions have I had?”
“Well, jeez, Jett, that may take awhile. Does it really matter?”
Did it? No, he guessed not. Two or twenty-two, it wouldn’t change what he needed to do tonight. But something had to give. He couldn’t very well keep this up until he was old and gray. Though there was every indication that he’d be doing just that. What did that bald shrink say on TV? The best predictor of future behavior was past behavior. Jett pulled at the collar of his custom-fitted shirt again. Damn tailor must’ve measured wrong. “Just escort me back.”
Suzy nodded and pulled her plump frame out of her chair. He followed her down the hallway, the heels of his shoes in time with the swish, swish, swishing sound of Suzy’s thighs. The precinct in Grove Oaks was small, with only a c
ouple holding cells, ample enough for the few drunks and petty crimes that came in. They stopped at the first metal door with a small double-paned window in the center. She reached up to punch in a key code on the side panel. Without thinking it through fully, Jett touched her wrist to stop her. “Wait a sec, will ya.”
Suzy nodded and stepped back. Jett didn’t know what he was after. Maybe a glimpse at the person behind all the trouble? Hell, maybe an f-ing small indication of remorse. Jett leaned forward and looked through the window, and knew immediately he’d hoped for too much.
There, in a five-by-eight concrete room, sitting on a long wooden bench, was the same thing he’d seen every time: the same smart-mouthed, angry girl he’d come to expect. Black combat boots propped up one on top of the other, long tan legs stretched out and bared since she had on the world’s shortest pair of jeans cutoffs. Her arms folded across her chest, pushing her ample breasts to the upper limit of what her string tank top could hold. Black piecey hair with some kind of unnatural highlight obscured her face. Her head was back, resting against the wall, mouth wide open. And if he listened hard enough, he could hear her snores.
Without looking at Suzy, Jett turned around and started to walk away.
“Jett?” Suzy called to his back.
“No.”
“What?” Suzy chased after him, the swishing of her pant legs doubling in time. “Wait, you have to take her. She can’t stay here.”
“It’s a holding cell, Suzy. Of course, she can stay here.”
“No, Jett, she can’t.” Suzy panted after him.
Guilt tugged on Jett. He’d been raised to match his steps to a lady’s, not to outrun her. He turned back around. Her face was flushed, but it was easy to see the wide-eyed nervousness in her expression. “Why, Suzy, are you scared of Nikki? She’s locked up. She can’t hurt you.”
“That’s not it.” She looked offended for a moment. “You know Don wants me home.”
Jett didn’t buy it. He’d wait her out. Suzy was the one with plans. Jett, unfortunately, had all night.
Suzy cast her gaze away, back, then away again. “And . . . yes . . . well, you know how she can get. That mouth of hers can skin a cat alive and that’s when she’s in a good mood. You gotta take her with you.”
Jett shook his head. He knew all about Nikki’s mouth. Maybe too much for a girl who should be like a sister to him. “Call her brother.”
“You know he won’t bail her out. He’s all about tough love, but that doesn’t work on Nikki.”
“Hell—” Jett flung his hands up. “What I’m doing isn’t working either. Nothing seems to get through to her.”
Suzy wiggled her nose back and forth. A gesture she made when something didn’t sit right with her. “She’s had a hard life. No pa or ma to help her out. She’s lost her way is all. But you can’t give up on her. Besides her brother, you’re the only one she’s got.”
Anger put his teeth on edge. He took a step toward Suzy. “No. No. You’re not putting this all on me. I’ve done my share. Do you know how many times I’ve come and gotten her in the middle of the night? Do you know how many times I’ve offered her money to help get her on her feet?”
Suzy had raised seven strapping tall boys, so Jett’s intimidating six-foot frame was lost on her. She notched her chin up and glared at him from chest level, then poked his breastbone with her sharp fingernail.
Jett stepped back and rubbed his chest. “Ouch.”
“You’re a fool, Jett Avery, and I expected better from you. Have you ever thought maybe it isn’t money Nikki needs? You know how prideful the Logans can be.”
Sure he knew. Wasn’t he best friends with Cole? There was a picture of him in the dictionary next to the word “pigheaded.” “Well, I don’t know what you want from me. A man can only take so much.”
“A man is supposed to take a lot for the woman he loves. And you, my dear boy, haven’t even gotten into the thick of it.”
Enough was enough.
“You’re crazy,” he said and turned to stalk off. Four steps later he was back towering over her. “That’s not how it is. I don’t love Nikki. Not like that.”
Suzy rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Jett. If you two would just get it done and over with, this town would have a lot less to gossip about, and my asthma would have a lot less to get worked up over.”
“Get what done and over with?”
“Hello! Bumping uglies, horizontal limbo, carnal knowledge—whatever you young people call sleeping together these days.”
It was like having his mother explain to him about the birds and the bees. Which had been incredibly disturbing at age sixteen. “Suzy!”
“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. I see the way you look at her. Can’t say I blame you—there’s something about her that just draws the men.”
Jett just stood there. “Suzy, are you really saying you want me to take Nikki home and have sex with her?”
Suzy deflated in an exasperated sigh. “I know politics runs in your blood—I just hope all of our governmental leaders aren’t as dense as you.”
Jett still didn’t get it.
“Well, I’m usually not for premarital sex, but something has got to give, and confessing your feelings to her is definitely not the way to go. That’ll have her running faster than a white-tailed deer at the scent of fire. No, Nikki is gonna need a two-by-four upside her head in order to get her life turned around. And going by how quick you’re catching on here, I’m thinking you’re the right guy for the job.”
“I’m not the two-by-four for her . . . or at all. Never mind. This is ridiculous and putting aside what you think my feelings for her are, she doesn’t think of me that way. Never has, never will.”
The slap upside his head came out of nowhere. How Suzy had gotten all her sons married and living respectable lives was no longer a mystery. “Haven’t you ever wondered why every couple of months she’s inhere? It’s like clockwork. She gets arrested, and you come bail her out. It’s probably the closest thing she gets to dating you.”
He tried not to think about Nikki that way, and for the most part he succeeded. He’d learned his lesson all those years ago during that one night in her barn. Afterward, she’d avoided him for almost two years. There were just so many reasons why he shouldn’t get involved with Nikki, not to mention the biggest—Cole kicking his ass.
Jett shook his head and stepped out of arm’s reach of Suzy. No, bumping uglies was not a good idea. But Suzy was right. Mike was also. This town couldn’t continue sugarcoating things for Nikki. It was time he showed her that continuing down this road could only lead to real trouble. He was the only man who could teach Nikki a lesson.
Because she didn’t scare him at all.
Chapter 11
From years of habit, Cole opened the front door of the Harris house without knocking. Even though it was late, he knew the door would be unlocked. The screen banged closed behind him. “Katie?” he shouted.
After their fight this morning, she should be the last person he would want to seek out, but he had to know how James was doing. He would’ve been here earlier, but his mare had started a difficult labor and he hadn’t wanted to leave her. Cole could’ve called the hospital to check on James, but he wanted to see Katie. He’d know more by the look on her face than from any information the nurses’ station would give him.
“In the kitchen,” Katie yelled back.
Cole hurried down the tiled hallway. He passed the rarely used dining room with its solid oak table and chairs, dated brown-shag carpet, and a large set of bull horns presiding like an ominous god over any seated below. The kitchen was different, a lived-in space, though quiet since Katie had left. There was the comfortable bar where Cole and James would have a beer or rather James would and Cole would have an O’Douls. And the double stainless-steel sink Katie’s mom had insisted on below the picture window that looked out over the stables.
Katie was at the sink, rinsing a mug and putting
it in the dishwasher. She turned as he came in. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought some hot cocoa would help. Have you eaten? Can I warm something up for you?”
He shook his head, and for a second his voice failed him. How many times had he come into this house searching for something, but not knowing what? And here was Katie looking so right with her hair tucked behind her ears, stray strands defying her attempts at a ponytail. He swallowed. “I should’ve cooked for you. You’re the one who spent the day at the hospital.” Cole took a breath, and then asked. “How is he?”
She leaned back against the counter, dish towel in her hands and smiled. “Better. Much better. He’s going to make it, Cole.”
At Katie’s smile the ice in his belly thawed just a bit. He had a sudden desire to laugh, but it had been so long he was afraid he’d forgotten how. Instead, he slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “God, Katie, you don’t know how scared I was.”
She nodded and bit her lip, but her eyes shimmered. “I know, Cole. Me too.”
Katie’s sigh filled the room, and he followed with one of his own. The relief that washed over him left him a bit shaky, and his legs played tricks by trembling beneath him.
Katie fidgeted with the dish towel, finally laying it out on the counter and smoothing every wrinkle. He could tell she had a hard time facing him, which was fine, since every logical thread of conversation flew from his brain—a bit inconvenient, since there were so many things he wanted to say.
He wanted to tell her everything would be all right. He wanted to rest his chin on top of her head, breathe in the scent of her hair, and just be still in the embrace of her arms. He wanted to take this moment to be grateful he didn’t have to go to another funeral, and that James was still with them for a little longer.
Instead, when their gazes caught and he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out. He’d never been good with words. He’d always gotten them wrong, especially when all he wanted was Katie in his arms. And by the look in her eyes, he could tell she felt the same. He didn’t question, just took a step toward her, and Katie flew the rest of the way. He enfolded her in his arms, and before he could find a reason not to, buried his face in her hair.
