“What?” I could hear the defensive note creep into my voice.
“I just can’t believe you’re mixed up in all this.”
“Mixed up in it? What, you think I fell into it by accident? I didn’t get mixed up in it. This is what I do.” I held my chin up high.
“Why? I mean...you’re smart”—he gestured at the converted bus—”you work your ass off. Why do this?”
I stiffened. “I found I was uniquely qualified. Most criminals aren’t too smart.” I considered. “Well, Luka’s pretty smart. But most of them aren’t. I’m good at it, okay? And I can do it quietly. I can stay hidden.”
He frowned. “Why do you need to stay hidden?”
Shit. I didn’t answer. Instead, I pointed towards my computers. “Most people think it’s just about the physical stuff—the passport, the driver’s license. But these days, those are the easy parts. As soon as they’re scanned, the online records are checked. If they don’t match up, you end up in a very small room at the airport, talking to some guys from Homeland Security.”
“So you’re a hacker, as well.”
I shrugged. “By now, it’s pretty much routine. I have ways into anywhere I need to get to.” It was the first time I’d ever been able to tell someone and I was surprised at how proud I felt. “If I don’t know, I know who to ask and who to pay. Some of it’s hacking, some of it’s favors for the right clerk at the DMV.”
He shook his head again. That stung—I’d been almost glowing with pride as I laid out my whole little empire. “Will you stop shaking your head at me? You wanted the truth.”
He stared at me, eyes blazing. Because he disapproved, or because I’d been keeping it from him? Neither alternative was good. At last, he slumped down on my couch. “Why do you need to stay hidden?” he asked again.
Shit. I’d been hoping I’d distracted him from that one. I tried to come up with an answer that was both truthful—because I was sick of lying—and that would close down this line of questioning. “Things got complicated in New York. I had to leave.”
He stared at me. “You’re gonna have to do better than that,” he rumbled.
Bull
She shook her head. The way all that silky hair tossed around took the edge off my anger—damn it, I was mad as hell at her, but all I wanted to do was run over there and kiss her. Didn’t she realize what she was messing with? Mexican drug cartels? And a Russian goddamn arms dealer? I didn’t want a guy like that anywhere near my Lily. Luka Malakov? I imagined a pale blob of a man with thinning, greasy hair, his stomach straining at his suit. Probably leering at her as he tried to get her price down, and she’d feel she had to flirt with him to keep him happy….
Hell, no!
I just wanted to take her away from it all, rescue her...couldn’t she see that? Yet for some reason, she seemed to be getting mad at me.
“I’ve told you more than I should have,” she said. “More than anyone else knows. I have some secrets. Get used to it.”
I glared stubbornly back at her. I had to know why she’d left New York if I was going to help her. Why would she have to stay hidden? Some crime she’d committed? She’d told me the other stuff—why not this? “If you never trust anyone, you’re going to be mighty lonely.”
She glanced around the bus. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own until now.”
I couldn’t stop myself. I thought that, if I could make her see what her secrecy had done to her, she’d see sense. I didn’t stop to think how it would sound. I nodded at the single bed. “How’s that working out for you?”
I saw her face redden, almost as if I’d slapped her. Shit. I hadn’t meant to upset her. “How about you get off my bus?” she whispered.
Damn it! I hesitated for a moment, trying to think of how to apologize. “Goddamn it, Lily,” I said, which probably wasn’t the best way to start. “Listen—”
“Just get out!”
I sighed and grabbed my hat, shoving it on my head. I was still mad as hell at her for putting herself in this kind of danger. “You know where I am when you’re ready to talk,” I told her. And I stalked out. Goddamn that woman!
Lily
Goddamn that man!
I stomped around the bus, pacing back and forth for a good half hour. I was pretty sure I’d seen the last of Carl—I always made sure none of my clients knew where I lived. I’d cut all ties and I might even consider an anonymous tip to Interpol. Jesus! Selling women? What happened to nice, normal crime like drugs and guns?
I thought about that for a second. I was raised by one of New York’s most powerful dons. It’s possible my moral compass is a little out of whack. But at least I have a moral compass.
But the problems with Bull? That couldn’t be so easily solved. The argument had angered me but also upset me, leaving me shamefully close to tears. I was proud of what I did: I was one of the best in the world at my gig, I had clients who trusted me, and I kept everything professional. That’s why it burned so much that Bull disapproved.
The thing is, however much you hate the person who raises you, you still learn from them. I’d learned about running a business from my uncle and I’d picked up his respect for hard work and doing the best job you can. On some deep level, I think I’d even wanted to impress him—even though he had no idea what I now did. And the fact that he was so sexist, that he thought women had no place except in the home, made me even more determined to build my own little empire.
I hadn’t realized, until I’d told Bull about it, how much I’d been longing to share my achievements with someone. And then he’d thrown it all back in my face.
Why was he so mad? Because he thought I couldn’t handle crime—or maybe that no woman could handle it? I’d known he was arrogant and kind of a jerk at times, but I’d been getting to really like him. I hadn’t figured him for sexist. Or was his problem the morals of what I was doing? That didn’t make sense either—Bull didn’t strike me as someone who didn’t at least bend a few laws. Sure, he might be taken aback at what I was doing, but not angry.
Maybe I just didn’t understand men.
Bull
Maybe I just didn’t understand women.
I was out at the ranch, stripped to the waist and riding a fine, fast stallion, helping the owner chase down a troublesome steer. Exactly the kind of thing I did well. But I couldn’t enjoy it as I normally would. I kept thinking of Lily, alone in that bus.
Lily, with her hair like silk and her lips like goddamn satin pillows. Lily, with those full, bountiful breasts and pale, curving thighs that I’d still only seen in my imagination. So smart and so sure of herself, so proud of all she’d accomplished—
Proud?
Aw, hell. The lasso fell from my hand and I pulled my horse up short.
I’d gone and offended her, hadn’t I? That’s why she’d blown up at me. I’d been worried about her and angry at her for putting herself in danger, and she’d taken it as criticizing her. And then I’d made it worse with that crack about her single bed. All I’d meant was that her damn secrecy had stopped us getting together for the whole time she’d been living in Texas. If I hadn’t saved her from the bull, we might never have met.
Maybe I should apologize. But I still couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t tell me about her past.
“Hey!” the owner bawled at me. “You gonna rope that steer or what?”
I looked up. Confused by the fact I’d stopped chasing it, the steer had stopped too and was frowning at me as if to say, “Are we doing this or are we not doing this?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled to the owner. I retrieved the lasso and tossed it over the steer’s head with a quick flick of my wrist. The steer snorted as if to say, “About time!”
There. Simple. Why did women have to be so damn complicated?
Lily
“And who is it you’re here to see?” asked the receptionist.
“Mr. Hanlow,” I told her. “Room 233. I’m his granddaughter.”
“I thought I r
ecognized you. What’s it been...two months?”
I nodded and signed myself in... as Carol Hanlow. Then I walked all the way through the care facility to room 233...and knocked on 232 instead.
I knew that there were people looking for me and I knew they’d check here at some point. I couldn’t have a visitor’s book showing I’d been here. But my grandmother was the one link I had to my parents and I couldn’t abandon her completely. When I heard she’d had to be moved into the care home, some months after I left New York, it had taken me weeks to pluck up the courage to make the trip to Colorado. It was meant to be a one-time thing but, when I’d seen her here all alone with no visitors, I’d known I’d have to come back.
Hence the ruse. As far as the care home was concerned Mr. Hanlow got a visit from his (actually long-dead) granddaughter every few months while my grandmother saw no one at all. I really would stop in to see Hanlow for a few minutes on my way out—partially because I felt sorry for the poor guy, partially to cover myself if he talked to the nurses. His Alzheimer’s helped to muddy the waters enough that no one would figure the time discrepancy.
My grandmother opened the door and her face lit up when she saw it was me. She pulled me inside while simultaneously giving me an enormous hug. “Get yourself in here,” she ordered. “I’ve got two clues I’m stuck on.”
She did the Wall Street Journal crossword every Friday. At eighty-three and at least as sharp as I was.
When we were sitting drinking tea and I was trying to figure out ten down, she said, “Who is he?”
“Maybe I just came to visit, like other granddaughters. I could brush your hair for you. Do you want me to brush your hair?”
“Tessa, you touch this ‘do and you won’t sit down for a week. It’s been sixty-two days since you visited and you average eighty-eight. You came here because you want advice and that means it must be a man because it can’t be your job or your friends or your house because you won’t tell me diddly squat about any of those.”
I always suspected I inherited a lot of things from my grandmother. It was one reason we got on so well. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s better that you don’t know this stuff.” I didn’t even dare to tell her which state I was living in. It’d make it easier for her to play dumb if anyone came looking for me. She knew I’d fled New York, but nothing else about my life.
She shook her head. “As long as you’re happy and you’re well away from that prick—pardon my French—Erico.” She sighed. “Of all the people who could step in and raise you. Your parents would have been horrified. Your father was a goddamn hippy. He abhorred violence. Animals, plants...that was always his thing.”
I’d never been able to relate to that, before. I’d grown up a city girl, under Uncle Erico’s wing. Since the horse riding with Bull, though, the great outdoors seemed just a little less scary.
“So,” said my grandmother. “It’s a man. Unless it’s a woman?”
“Grandma!”
“It’s all fine, Tessa.” She put her hand on mine. “When I studied in San Francisco, I had a few experiences with—“
I put my hands over my ears. “Too much information!”
“So shut me up. Tell me about your man.”
I met her gaze...then dropped my eyes. This was what I’d come here for. “He’s...good,” I said. “I mean, I think he’s a good man, you know? He tries really hard not to be, when everyone’s looking at him. He’s got this bad boy thing going on. But when he’s with me...” I sighed and shook my head. “He’s an asshole too, though. He thinks he’s God’s gift.”
“Is he?” she asked sharply.
I bit my lip. And nodded.
“Sounds like a keeper.”
“But he’s an asshole!”
“The good ones usually are. Your grandpa was kind of an asshole, God rest his soul. So what’s the problem?”
“We had a fight. About what I do for a living.”
She frowned at me. “Are you stripping?”
“No!” I said, horrified.
“Because there’s nothing wrong with that. I did it. That’s how I met your grandpa, actually.”
“No! God, look at me! Do I look like a stripper?”
“There’s nothing wrong with curves, Tessa. He obviously likes them.”
“I’m not stripping.”
“Hooking?”
“No! Just...anyway, he doesn’t approve and we had a fight about it. And now I don’t know how to apologize.”
“Go and visit him. Surprise him. Don’t let him tell you what to do with your life, but give him a chance to explain. You don’t want to lose this one.”
“He’s an asshole! How can you be so sure he’s right for me?”
“Because you’ve called him an asshole three times since you’ve been here. You’re never that down on anyone...unless you really, really like them.”
I stared at her. And then hugged her, which knocked the table and sloshed tea over my jeans. “Goddamnit!” Luckily, I found a napkin in my pocket so I mopped up the worst of it with that.
I spent the whole afternoon with her, then slipped into Mr. Hanwell’s room for a quick game of checkers before I left. On the flight back to Texas, I turned it over and over in my mind. By the time the wheels hit the tarmac, I’d made a decision: I was going to go and see Bull. Not to carry it on. I couldn’t. That would be dangerous for both of us. I’d just apologize and that would be it. I figured that seeing him again, just for a few minutes, would scratch my Bull-itch. It would be, I thought, like giving an addict a carefully measured dose to help them gradually kick the habit.
I hadn’t realized just how helplessly addicted I was.
Lily
“Y’all be taking out?” asked the smiling girl behind the counter. Even Starbucks was different, this far south.
“Yep,” I said. What would he like? What was safe? “Can I get an iced latte with extra ice?”
“Tall? Grande?”
I thought about Bull for a second. “Venti. Definitely Venti.”
“Whipped cream?”
“Probably not.”
I told her my name and went to wait at the end of the counter. He’d like an iced latte, right? Everyone liked an iced latte, on a hot day. Even if it showed up unexpectedly.
***
A half hour later, with the latte still relatively cold, I pulled up outside the ranch. It was mid-morning, which was deliberate. I wanted him to be busy and have to run back to work—that way, there’d be no way that things could get out of control.
One of the ranch hands directed me to a barn—a huge, old-fashioned one of red-painted wood, piled high with hay bales. When I peeked through the door, I saw Bull stripped to the waist, heaving hay bales around. Doesn’t he ever wear a shirt?
I didn’t speak, didn’t move. I just stood there silently watching him for a moment, taking in the rippling muscles of his back and the solid mass of his biceps. Everything about him was...physical. Real. The opposite of my own world of electrons and secrets.
Then I saw him freeze, like an animal catching a scent on the breeze. He turned slowly to face me and I ducked halfway back behind the door. When he saw me, we just stood there staring at each other for a few seconds.
“Hi.” My voice quavered. “Um. I came to apologize.”
He tossed the hay bale aside as if it weighed nothing and strode towards me.
“I shouldn’t have blown up at you,” I said, and looked at the ground.
He put a finger under my chin and gently lifted my head so that I was looking up at him. I braced myself for something raw and coarse, some crack about how he wanted to fuck me.
“I’m sorry, too,” he muttered.
I just stood there in shock.
“I guess I didn’t expect...all that,” he said. “But that don’t mean it ain’t...impressive. Hell of a lot more impressive than roping steers and riding bulls. And better paid, that’s for goddamn sure.”
Had he just...apologized? Bull? The gro
und seemed to be slipping away from under my feet.
“I’m still mad at you,” he said. “Because I’m worried you’ll get yourself killed.”
Someone was worried about me? The shock of it was matched by how good it felt. The ground was gone completely, now. I was floating, helpless.
And then I remembered my plan. I had to turn away and leave, now.
I offered up the Starbucks cup. “I brought you an iced latte,” I said, holding it out. My hand shook a little.
“Did you?”
“Um...yep.”
He moved even closer. He loomed. So much power. My insides tightened again and this time the feeling slid lower—between my thighs. Our chests were almost touching. “I don’t want a fucking latte,” he said.
I stood there in shock, just breathing for a second. It wasn’t what he’d said; it was the unspoken message in his eyes. The realization of what he did want.
It wasn’t much cooler in the barn than outside. The air pressed in on me from every side, roasting me slowly through my jeans and faded red t-shirt. But there was a second kind of heat, throbbing into me from him, pulsing right into my depths. A sort of heat that made me weak inside, all my good intentions melting away.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head up, waiting for his kiss.
“No,” he said in a low growl.
I opened my eyes. He was staring right at me.
“No more goddamn games,” he told me. “No more letting me kiss you and then running, Lily. You come in this door, it’s going to happen. I’m going to take you, my way, so you better be sure you’re ready.”
The heat filled me completely, washing down to my toes and up to my brain, scorching away any last traces of rational thought. Somewhere, there had been a plan. Somewhere, there had been reasons why this was a bad idea. But suddenly, none of that mattered.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m ready.”
The latte slipped out of my hand.
Texas Kissing Page 10
