“There’s no reason to even be civil to someone who talks about Troy like that.”
Teague leaned against the counter. “I know how you feel. But you might as well get used to it, since half the population doesn’t get who Troy is. You have to give people a chance to learn.”
“It wasn’t just that she didn’t understand,” Jodi said. “It was that she didn’t want to. She was so upset at the notion she might have to take orders from him that she was about ready to quit. I wish she had.”
“Yeah, I know. But it’s our job to help people understand.”
Jodi sighed. “Whatever.” She arranged the wedges of lemon on a plate, then set the plate and the three glasses on a wooden tray with a burned-in design of a cowboy riding a bucking horse. Famous Wyoming brands rimmed the edge.
“So you don’t want her around, but you’re defending her?”
“I’m just trying to help with the Troy thing.”
She snorted. It wasn’t attractive, but then, she wasn’t trying to attract Teague. She shouldn’t even be talking to him.
“Hey.” He stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Evidently the snort had been more attractive than she thought. “I know how you feel.” His arms swept around her in a hug that would have been brotherly if he hadn’t put his lips so close to her ear. “You feel good.” He drew out the last word and his breath fluttered the fine curls at the nape of her neck. She clenched her thighs as a spasm of lust made a line drive straight to her center.
“Teague.” She spun around and shoved him away. “I’m busy.”
“Hmm.” He cocked his head and smiled. “So does that mean I should come back when you’re not?”
“No.” She lifted the tray, but her hands were shaking and the glasses slid toward the edge. “It means—aack!”
She barely righted the tray in time to keep the glasses from slipping off. Looking at Teague’s expression made her want to set the whole deal on the counter and throw the glasses at him one by one. He was smiling, which was fine, except that the smile was a combination of smug satisfaction and good-natured mockery that made her want to belt him one, like she had when they were kids and he made fun of her for being a girl.
“Okay,” he said, raising his hands in the air like a hold-up victim. “Sorry. But I didn’t make any promise to your mother, and you can’t blame me for trying. But Courtney and I are not a couple. I certainly haven’t slept with her or anything.”
She banged the tray down on the counter, making the ice jangle in the glasses, and spun to face him. “Well, if there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that sleeping with a woman doesn’t mean you’re serious about her.”
The minute she said it, she regretted it. That was giving away way too much. He took a step toward her and she could feel her face heating in a blush.
“Jodi, what are you saying?”
He was standing way too close. She could smell fresh cut grass and sage, and the scent took her back to the days they’d spent in the summer sun with Vegas. Why did everything associated with Wyoming’s outdoors make her think of Teague? She’d spent plenty of time riding horses and puttering around the barn without him. For some reason, he dominated her childhood memories just like he ruled her thoughts at night.
He reached up and shoved a lock of hair behind her ear and that spark of lust ricocheted from his touch and hit home base again. Dang. He knew that got to her. There was something so tender about that gesture—something caring and nurturing that was all the more touching when it came from someone who usually hid his tender side.
He wasn’t hiding anything now. His eyes were serious, fixed on hers as if begging her to believe him.
“Sometimes you pretend you don’t love somebody because you know you’re not good for her,” he said.
She looked down and away, avoiding his eyes, but he put one finger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his eyes. “And then you try and try to become someone who is good for her. You do everything you can so that if you ever get another chance, you’ll have something to offer.”
She blinked. What was he saying?
His voice dropped into a whisper and he pulled her against him.
“Everything I did while you were gone—the business, the house… that was all for you.”
She knew she should pull away, make a joke, something—but instead she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. His arms tightened and she could feel his chest rising and falling, his heart beating under her cheek.
She just wanted to stay there a while. Just wanted to take a break from resisting him for a minute. It was getting to be more and more of a struggle.
His chest rose again as he took in a deep breath. His arms tightened and suddenly, her heart thrummed with panic.
“Teague.” She pulled away, avoiding his eyes. “I told you, my mother…”
He looked so hurt she could hardly stand it, but she’d promised, and he knew it. If he loved her, wouldn’t he respect her decision?
“Stop, okay?” she said. “I told you, I made a promise. Can’t you respect that and stop making this harder than it has to be?”
“No. I can’t. I can’t respect you letting other people tell you how to live your life.”
“She’s my mother, Teague. And she’s all I have left. And you keep—tempting me.”
“Sorry.” He was smiling again. The expression definitely didn’t match the words. “I don’t mean to do it. It just happens.”
“Oh, right. So that was an accident, back there at your house? And yesterday?”
“Pretty much. Yeah.” He was staring down at the toe of his boot, his lips pressed together to hold back a smile. “Especially the part with the goat. That was an accident.”
“Well, yeah. If we hadn’t fallen…”
“But it wasn’t all me. How am I supposed to behave myself when you… you know.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, I’m sorry. I’ll try not to slip up again.”
He took a step closer. “I said it was an accident. I didn’t say it was a mistake.”
He was gazing at her so intently she felt totally exposed. Hell, she felt naked when he looked at her like that. She let out a frustrated little mew and spun back to the counter, pretending she needed to make crucial adjustments to the lemon slices.
Teague sighed. “Well, we’d better get out there. Miss Priss will be wondering what happened to us.”
“Not that I care,” Jodi said.
“Yeah, I kind of feel sorry for her,” Teague said. “She’s so… so different from everybody around here. Such an outsider.” He looked away, as if something fascinating was taking place outside the window over the sink. “I know what that’s like. I know she’s annoying, but I think we should give her a chance.”
Jodi thought back to high school—to the whispers in the hall as Teague passed; to the gossip about his father’s drinking and his mother’s affairs; to the hurt in his eyes when he’d overheard Jodi’s mom calling him “that white trash boy.” Teague had been an outsider, all right.
And she hadn’t helped him the way he was helping Courtney. She’d been too worried about what other people would think. About how it might affect her chances at the rodeo crown.
Teague might be annoying as all get-out, but he was a better person than she’d ever be.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll try to be nice. For you.”
“For me?” He took a step closer. “So since you’re in the mood and all, do you want to do a couple other things for me?”
She looked up, suddenly aware of his eyes probing hers with a new intensity. The look she’d backed away from before was hurt, and something like love—but this was pure, raw sex. She felt her body coming alive, the nerves dancing at the surface of her skin sending the signal from his touch to her breasts, to her heart, to the wa
rmth between her legs. It shot through her body, knocking down all her sensible resolutions like a pinball hitting the bumpers, racking up a high score.
Teague licked his lips and leaned closer, letting his hand trace the side of her face. Lowering his face to hers, he touched her lips with his and the pinball zoomed straight down the middle, taking all her good sense with it.
She reached up, cupping her hand behind his neck, and pulled him close.
Their lips were almost touching when a noise made her turn toward the door.
***
Teague felt himself being drawn in by Jodi’s eyes, her lips, the peaches-and-sunshine smell of her hair. The outside world faded away. She was magic for him, like a drug he couldn’t do without. Her lips were inches from his, her eyes drifting closed, when a sudden sound made him look up.
Courtney stood in the doorway, and she looked like an outsider, all right. Honeybucket was still smiling, but judging from his doggie-mama’s stiff posture and sour expression, she wasn’t too happy to see Teague and Jodi headed for a clinch.
The girl’s face was still puffy, probably from crying over her horse, and judging from the sheen in her eyes, seeing him and Jodi together was enough to make her start up again.
He’d hoped it would be enough to make her back off—but dang, the girl looked like her world had ended. She was going to cry, he was sure of it.
Not again. He just couldn’t deal with more of Courtney’s tears.
Without thinking it through, he stepped away from Jodi, blinked, and wiped one eye. “Thanks,” he said. “I think you got it.” He turned to Courtney. “Had something in my eye.”
Courtney’s expression didn’t change. She obviously didn’t buy his explanation. And Jodi looked furious.
He was just trying not to hurt anyone. And instead, he’d hurt everybody.
Story of his life.
Jodi grabbed the tray and stalked out the door, Courtney trailing behind. Teague was in no hurry to follow. He’d let them cool down a little.
Alone in the kitchen, he snuck a look at the pickle lying half-eaten in the sink. Weren’t pickles one of those things women ate when they were pregnant? Sure they were. Pickles and ice cream. He’d heard about that.
Glancing toward the door, he cracked open Jodi’s freezer. Holy crap. Ben and Jerry were apparently Jodi’s two best friends. He counted four containers of ice cream, in flavors ranging from Cherry Garcia to Chubby Hubby.
Closing the freezer, he opened the fridge. Most of the top shelf was taken up by an enormous jar of disturbingly phallic pickles, each about six inches long, floating in briny soup. It looked like she must have eaten about half of them.
Shoot. He’d thought maybe he’d been wrong about Jodi being pregnant. He’d decided he’d jumped to that conclusion without sufficient evidence, and when Darla started spreading the same story, he’d told himself it was a vicious rumor—but evidently, it was true.
Chapter 23
Jodi stalked out onto the porch, her cheeks burning. Setting the tray on a white wicker table, she plopped down onto the porch swing so Courtney couldn’t sit on it with Teague. No way was she going to watch Courtney cozying up to Teague like they were high school sweethearts.
Something in his eye. Yeah, right. If he wasn’t interested in Courtney, why was he trying to hide the fact she’d almost caught them kissing? Because that’s where they’d been headed. Jodi reached up and touched two fingers to her lips. They still felt hot with expectation, and she could swear they ached a little. She’d needed that kiss. It was hers, and he took it away.
Which was a good thing, she told herself. Her mother was right. Teague might dress different now, but he hadn’t really changed. She’d been touched by his admission that he’d changed his life for her, but the next thing she knew, he was lying to Courtney. Was he playing her or what? He was still difficult, still dangerous and unpredictable.
Courtney eyed the two wicker chairs and the porch swing and finally sat down beside Jodi. Great brains think alike, Jodi told herself. Courtney was making sure Teague wouldn’t share the swing with Jodi. Ironically, that left the two of them sitting hip to hip, like best friends.
She passed a glass to Courtney and took one for herself, glancing over at the door. Where the hell was Teague? Hiding? He had to know both women were pissed at him. Maybe he was afraid to come out of the kitchen.
Just when she’d given up on him, he appeared in the doorway. He saw the two of them sitting together and smiled at Jodi, probably thinking how nice it was that she and Courtney were getting to be such good friends.
Men were idiots.
“Tea?” she said.
“Thanks.” His tone was hesitant and weirdly formal. “Don’t mind if I do.”
He rested one hip on the porch railing and gulped half his glass in one go while both women watched. There was something about a thirsty man tilting his head back and savoring a long, cold drink on a hot summer day that made Jodi warm inside in spite of her anger.
Teague took another glug from his glass, then shifted his weight against the railing and swirled the ice in his glass, his eyes darting from one girl to the other. Jodi flashed him a sarcastic smirk, and he seemed to take that as encouragement. Most men were a little lame when it came to reading social cues, but Jodi decided Teague was a total dimwit. Or maybe he only saw what he wanted to see.
“So,” he said. “You want me to come help with Russell on Saturday?”
“No,” she said.
“I thought you might want to introduce Vegas to the rest of the kids. You know, just to see how he responds. I could help with that too.”
“Um,” Jodi said. Dang it, bringing up Vegas wasn’t fair. The old horse was the symbol of the bond between them—the last remnant of their childhood friendship. “Maybe.”
“Oh, I could help too.” Courtney was sitting up straight now, smiling at Teague. “That could be my first day. And you could tell me more about your brother.”
Teague flashed Jodi a questioning glance and she responded by rolling her eyes. Why could men never see when women were after them? Courtney wasn’t interested in Troy. She was only interested in Teague.
Teague, who’d jumped like he’d been hit with a cattle prod when Courtney caught them in the kitchen.
“Hey, Jodi, you want to go to the Snag tonight?”
“What?”
“The Snag. I wondered if you wanted to go.”
Was he trying to make up for his mistake by asking her out in front of Courtney? It didn’t matter. She obviously needed to stay away from him.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“I could go,” Courtney said with a coy smile.
“Todd Dereemer’s playing.” Teague ignored Courtney as if she hadn’t spoken. “Always draws a big crowd. It would give you a chance to see who’s still around and maybe meet some new folks.”
Jodi smiled in spite of herself. The Snag was Hank and Belle Arnold’s bar, a wild place with a mechanical bull in one corner that had seen a lot of action. Hank Arnold was worried about liability, so he’d declared the bull off-limits years ago—but the crowd commandeered it on a regular basis, treating their friends to rides that increased in difficulty depending on the drunkenness of the volunteer operator. Maybe somebody would talk Courtney into a bull ride.
But she wasn’t going anywhere with Teague. Not after that “something-in-my-eye” incident.
“No thanks,” she said.
Courtney straightened in her seat, fidgeting like a little kid who wanted to go to the circus. “I’d like to go. I need to meet the natives.” She trilled out a high-pitched giggle. “Get to know the local customs.”
“Yeah. Jodi, you sure?” Teague asked. He looked a little desperate now that Courtney was angling for a date. “Don’t you want to go?”
“No thanks.” She flashed him an oh-
so-sweet smile. “You two go ahead.”
“Great.” Courtney gave Teague a perky smile. “I’ll meet you there.”
***
Three hours later, Jodi sighed and stared out the window. No lights glimmered on the wide stretch of plains outside; all she could see was her own reflection, staring back at her like a ghost from the dark window. Teague had taken Luna home, and the place felt empty.
She wondered what he was doing. Probably sitting at the bar with Courtney, introducing her around, buying her drinks. Courtney would probably get drunk, and he’d have to take her home. She’d lure him inside, then into her bed.
Then she’d have him right where she wanted him.
Hopefully Teague would remember to use protection this time. Jodi put her hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. She didn’t feel anything stirring inside her. Surely if anything had come of their carelessness she’d know it.
She was a little late, but that didn’t mean anything. She was always irregular.
Shutting out the image of Teague and Courtney together, she tapped a bunch of papers on the tabletop to line up the edges. Grant applications were dull and time consuming. She almost regretted not accepting Teague’s invitation. A drink would sure hit the spot about now.
Hell, what was she thinking? She’d didn’t need Teague’s invitation to go have a drink at her favorite watering hole. Shoving her chair back, she turned toward the window and considered her reflection. Her hair looked good, and in the dim light, the rest of her looked okay too. She’d just head over there and see who else was around.
A half hour later, she stepped into the bar. Purvis had undergone a few changes since she’d left town, but walking into the Snag was like stepping back in time. The same old black-and-white rodeo photos decorated the walls; the same scarred tables and rickety stools provided seating; and the same hideous painting of a plus-sized nude hung over the bar, an old bridle strategically draped over the naughty bits.
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