“Are you kidding me?” Olivia said. “If I didn’t hold my own with these guys, I would have been an afternoon snack.”
Hudson leered playfully and slung his arm around her shoulders. He snuggled her to his chest. “I’d love to nibble on you, darlin’. You just say the word, and I’ll bring the chocolate sauce.”
All sorts of erotic thoughts raced through Jake’s mind. Each one starred a naked and wanting Olivia between them. He felt pole-axed and damned aroused. Now was not the time for either sensation. “Enough,” Jake snapped.
They stared at him. Hudson eyed him with speculation, and Olivia’s face held censure.
He drew a calming breath. “Did you get the statue?”
“No,” she said. “Tag showed up before I made it to my car.” She headed for her vehicle, opened the back door, and leaned inside.
Hudson whistled softly. “Damn, she’s got a great ass.”
Jake shoved him, but he didn’t hide a grin. “Yeah, she does.”
The SUV door thudded shut, and she loped back to the porch and took the porch stairs at a rapid clip.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, looking around. Her eyes were once more calculating. “It sounds like the local grapevine is too good. Don’t want news of this ending up in the evening paper.”
Hudson opened the door and ushered them inside. He winked as he cut in front of Jake. “We don’t have an evening paper. Just Earl’s weekly rag that details all sorts of fun and insipid details of Freedom’s fine citizens.”
Jake locked the door and followed them into the dining room. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched Olivia open the shoe box and lift out a bundle. Hudson pulled out a wooden chair and dropped down.
Paper crackled in the silence as she unwrapped the statue. She set four large pieces on the table and looked at him. “This is what Shag was killed for. The question is, why?”
Hudson leaned forward and peered at it from all sides then sat back and tipped his chair on two legs. “It’s broken. Doesn’t look like anything special to me.”
Acid coated the back of Jake’s throat. He moved toward the table and stopped a foot shy.
The statue pieces sat innocuously where she’d set them. The thing was covered in gritty sand and looked like it’d been made years ago.
Perhaps even a thousand years ago.
Olivia looked at him. “Jake?”
He scrubbed a palm over his face and blew out a sharp breath. “You don’t know where he got it?”
“No.”
She tipped her head. “But you do, don’t you?”
Jake avoided her searing gaze. “Not exactly.”
Hudson’s chair thumped to the floor. “Then what, exactly?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It looks familiar, but I’m just not positive. Could be because it’s trashed.” He looked at her. “I don’t suppose you’d leave it here and let me do some research on it?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know.”
Hudson’s big hand covered hers. “You can trust him, Olivia. He might be an ass at times, but no matter what, Jake can always be counted on.”
Jake crossed his arms and waited for her answer.
The grandfather clock ticked loudly in the silence.
“All right. I’ll leave it overnight. Where do you think you know it from?”
Jake shook his head. He wasn’t quite ready to spill the beans on a secret that had haunted him for three years.
A secret that may have cost his men their lives.
Chapter Five
Hudson followed Olivia back into town and wondered at the strained relationship she had with Jake. She pulled into the motel and skirted around to the back. He pulled into a space next to her and cranked down the window of his beat-up green truck. “You hungry?” He was anxious to have some time alone with her and pick her brain.
After the first week he’d returned home, Jake refused to talk about what happened in Afghanistan. Hudson was hoping this dark-haired, sloe-eyed beauty would offer up some tidbits.
His friend had come back from the war a changed, almost-broken man.
And every year on the anniversary of that last day in Afghanistan, Jake fell a little deeper into the bottle. Spent a lot more time alone and refused to talk to anyone.
Even him.
Olivia locked her car and strolled over. Her gait was long and loose-limbed like a young gazelle.
She gripped the side mirror. “We just ate. Besides, I was just going to order room service later.”
Hudson rolled his eyes. “Good Lord, darlin’, don’t do that. Whitcombe will send you stale crackers with moldy cheese and call it Roquefort. He’ll charge you an assload for it, too.”
She smiled and looked younger than she had all day. “What if I like Roquefort?”
He pretended to shudder. “Come on over to the Tin Star.” Hudson reached out and placed his hand over hers. “We can get some dessert and coffee and bullshit over stuff.” And by stuff, he meant talk about Jake.
She didn’t move her hand away as she thought about it.
Hudson tried not to let the continued contact go to his head—either of them—but it was hard to do. The softness of her skin beneath his palm was alluring and made his very active imagination conjure up just how soft the rest of her would be.
“All right, thanks.” She looked down. “But I’d like to change first. I get the feeling I’d be a bit overdressed.”
Hudson waggled his brows. “I’ll be happy to come inside and watch you change.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You’re a horrible flirt.”
“Nah,” he protested. “I’m a great flirt. Ask anyone.”
Olivia chuckled again and gave him a sultry smile that made his jeans tent fast and hard. Hudson sucked in a breath as the air shimmered. Somehow, he didn’t think the sudden wave was from the midday May air.
“I’m real fast at getting out of my clothes, Hudson. I won’t be long.” She winked and spun around.
He watched her, mouth hanging open like a big-mouth bass. She fished her key from her pocket, shoved it in the lock, and pushed the door open. She gave him a little wave as she stepped inside.
Hudson rolled the window back up, cranked the AC knob over to full blast, and pointed the vents at his crotch.
Minutes later he was still hard as a rock. All that time in the truck and he’d spent it fantasizing about what she’d look like when she came back out.
He was not prepared for the vision she presented, and his dick kicked back into high gear. Hudson gritted his teeth, pushed open the door, and jumped down to the pavement.
Just as she reached the curb, he caught her arm and gently led her to the passenger side.
“You look beautiful,” he said as he handed her up.
She gave him a shy smile. “Thanks. I don’t know what possessed me to bring this.”
“This” was a lightweight, red cotton sundress that hugged her body in all the right places. The tight banded top cupped her breasts the way he wanted to and pushed them upward. The banding continued down her slender stomach and flared into a wide skirt that stopped just above her knees. She’d buckled on red, strappy heels that made her calves look as tight as a frog’s ass.
Hudson shuddered as clambered back into the truck. He fumbled with his seat belt until it finally clicked into place. Throwing the gear into reverse, he slung his arm over the bench seat and grazed the nape of her neck.
He froze.
Then he softly curled his fingers up to tug on a dangling tendril of black hair.
She cleared her throat as she bent her head away.
Hudson pulled his hand back slightly and backed out of the parking space.
He pointed them toward the heart of Freedom and scrambled for something to say. His mind was blank. This never happened.
“Are you related to Jake?”
The mention of his best friend spurred him back to reality and Hudson relaxed. “No,” he said. “But i
f I could have chosen a brother, it would be him. We grew up together.”
“Here?” She waved at the passing scenery.
Rolling green hills bordered one side of the road while miles of barbed-wire fencing bracketed the other. “No,” he said. “We grew up in the suburbs of Dallas-Fort Worth.”
“How old were you when you met?”
Hudson squinted into the bright sunlight and fumbled for his sunglasses. He cursed when he dropped them and started to bend over.
The truck swerved on the road.
“I’ll get them,” she yelled.
Before he could protest, her head was near his knee and the soft scent of jasmine tickled his nose. Her hand settled on his leg, and he knew it was for balance, but that didn’t stop his cock from surging high and tight.
“Here,” she said.
He took the sunglasses, shook out a leg, and slid them over his eyes. “Thanks,” he rasped. “I thought you didn’t wear perfume.”
He felt her start then pull her hand away. His leg tingled where she’d touched him.
“I don’t when I’m on business,” she said.
He slanted a shaded look at her. “Why not? Marines don’t allow it?”
Sadness tipped her mouth down. “They don’t have a regulation against it,” she said softly.
Hudson waited, but she didn’t go on.
“Well, why not then?”
She shrugged very stiff shoulders.
He decided to drop it for now. “We met when I was five and he was six. We lived in the same neighborhood, went to the same school, and discovered we had a lot of the same interests.”
“Like what?”
Her sultry voice thumped over him like a sensual massage. Hudson tried to jerk himself out of his weird response to her. She was beautiful and exotic and hot as an August noon, but there was something else that set his body into a full gallop. He’d made a lifetime of flirting and was no slouch in the dating department, but he couldn’t remember this kind of gut-check reaction before.
“The usual,” he said and finally succeeded in putting a lid on himself. “Bugs. Bikes. Playing in the mud.”
She laughed. “That makes sense. I’ve noticed that Jake really likes the mud. The ranch was full of it, too.”
“Darling, that’s not mud. That’s horse shit.” He blinked and felt his cheeks go red. Hudson cleared his throat. “Pardon my French, ma’am.”
In his peripheral vision he saw her turn her body to face him. “Please don’t apologize. I’m in the military and lived with rough and tumble men for several years. I’ve heard and said just about every curse word there is. Invented plenty of my own, too. My name is Olivia,” she continued. “I’m only ma’am when I’m in uniform and on duty.”
He looked over at her. His breath caught at the beauty of her smile and the way it lit up her entire face. Her brown eyes danced with sassy humor. His hard-won self-control rattled. He was damn glad he was driving or else he might have hauled her into his arms for a long, wet kiss.
They crested the final hill before the small town of Freedom appeared before them.
“Duly noted, but you should remember you’re in Texas.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we treat our women right and that often includes calling them ma’am. And saying please, thank you, and opening doors.”
“Ah, that’s refreshing,” she murmured.
Hudson slowed the truck as he turned off the blacktop and onto the main drag. “This is our little town. It’s got about 3,000 permanent residents. We don’t count the outlying ranches and farmlands into the census ’cause the county does that. But we still claim ’em.” He pointed out her window. “That’s the pride of Freedom right there. We call it the Hex because it’s laid out like a giant hexagon. Back when the town was founded, somewhere around 1873, folks still traveled by horse and the occasional buggy, so getting around wasn’t an issue.” He chuckled as he shook his head. “When cars came along, I bet the city planners had a coronary trying to figure out right of ways.”
He spotted a parking space and cut across two lanes of traffic to nab it. A loud honk sounded from behind him.
“That guy doesn’t sound happy,” Olivia murmured.
“He’ll get over it.” Hudson hopped from the truck to open her door. To his relief, she waited for him. “See, you’re already getting the hang of this.”
“Uh-huh,” she said and smoothed her skirt down. She looked at the bustling town center. Her eyes grew wider with each scan. “Wow, this is really cool.”
Hudson nodded. “It is, isn’t it?” The outlying part of the Hex was lined with shops housed in near-original buildings from the 1870s. They’d been updated for safety codes and electrical needs, but overall, the town exuded old-West appeal that would have made a Hollywood set decorator drool. The inside of the Hex was a conglomeration of parking spots, a park and a multitude of benches, fountains and flowers. A lone building stood in the very center. He pointed toward it as he placed his hand on Olivia’s back and urged her forward. “That’s The Hitching Post. It’s the hottest spot in town. There is a stage and seating for three hundred on the inside as well as a full restaurant and bar. It’s for rent on a daily and nightly basis and always packed. A lot of in- and out-of-town weddings are held there.”
“It’s gorgeous.” She shaded her eyes and studied the building. “What kind of architecture is that? It’s quite a bit different than the ones across the street.”
“Mostly Neoclassic with some old West tossed in. It was designed by a German architect named Alfons Huber,” he said with pride. “Apparently, he and his family were on a trip and ended up stranded in Freedom in 1876, just a few years after the town was founded. Back then it was a motley collection of shanties and one-room cabins. Nevertheless, the townspeople welcomed him with open arms and a lot of good ole Texas hospitality. They took care of Huber and invited him back anytime. He repaid their kindness by purchasing the land, designing the building, and then footing quite a lot of the construction himself. He also designed all five of the city buildings, including Tag’s jail and office space. Huber stayed in Freedom for over a year to accomplish the work. Too bad the guy didn’t survive long enough to return.”
“What do you mean?” Olivia asked.
“His wife died shortly after they left Freedom. She caught some sort of illness on the return trip to Boston. Huber didn’t make it another two years without her. Distraught, he sent his children to live with relatives then wandered the country. He died in 1881 during a train robbery.”
“That’s horrible,” she murmured.
“Yeah. Lots of tragedy in that man’s life.”
They made it to the intersection across from the Tin Star. Hudson took hold of her arm. “There are no walk signals here, so you’ve got to watch the roads. People generally drive decent enough, but every now and again some smart-ass teenager likes to show off.”
“Benevolent architects, surly teens, and a whole lot of cows. You live in an interesting city, Hudson.”
He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. He guided her up and over the curb. “It’s a town, not a city. That implies way more politicking than we see here in Freedom. But we are a nice gathering place for the oddballs. Stick around long enough, and you’ll get to know them.”
She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Sorry, Hudson, I’m only here for a couple of days. As long as it takes Jake to figure out the importance of what Shag sent.”
He ruthlessly squashed his disappointment. “Doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself while you’re here, does it?”
Her brow knitted for a second, and then she shook her head. “No, I guess not.”
“Good,” he said. “And we can start right here.” He pulled open the rustic door of the restaurant. The heavenly aroma of brisket, corn bread, and sweet baked beans enveloped them. He sniffed in appreciation.
“Wow,” she whispered. “Maybe I am hungry again. Smells amazing in here.”
“Mr. Walker. Welcome back.”
Hudson nodded to Maljib al-Mubi as he hurried forward. The slight man sported luxurious dark hair with an ever-widening bald spot in the center, a long sharp nose that crooked just to the left, and the biggest smile this side of the Red River.
“Maljib, good to see you.”
He turned to introduce Olivia and found she’d slipped back into her wary military stance. She stood stiff and alert.
“Relax,” he murmured. “Maljib’s a good guy.”
She started, and a slow flush colored her cheeks.
“Who is your lovely lady friend?” Maljib asked, black eyes glittering with delight.
Hudson knew the man was at least as big a gossip as Betty, who ran Beauty Bob’s down the street. He’d bet his best saddle Maljib would be on the phone to her before their server even made it to the table.
Hudson wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. “This is an old friend of Jake’s. Meet Miss Olivia Martinez. Livvie, this is Maljib al-Mubi, chef extraordinaire. He’s responsible for the mouth-watering aromas coming from the back.”
“Oh, Mr. Walker, you hush now. Too much. It is. Too much. Oh, now. Come, Miss Olivia, I will give you the best seat in the house.”
The little man tittered and blushed like a schoolgirl caught by her first crush. Olivia relaxed beneath his arm, and Hudson released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He watched as the man charmed Olivia away and down the hallway.
When Maljib first arrived in town two years ago, Jake had been just as wary and distrustful. Though he was of Tajik descent, Maljib was just as American as any of ’em. Well, except for that whole growing up in Tajikistan part. His father insisted he learn about his heritage and experience it firsthand. Each year until he turned eighteen, Maljib, his two brothers, and lone sister would fly to Tajikistan where they lived for three months before returning to Boston. It didn’t help he spoke with that distinctive Bostonian accent, either. Marked him as a Yankee as soon as he opened his mouth.
Hudson followed Maljib and Olivia as they wound through the nearly full restaurant. He nodded to folks he knew as he passed but didn’t stop to chat as he normally would. He was too intent on sitting down with Olivia and finding out more about her.
Two Cowboys in Her Crosshairs [Hellfire Ranch] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 7
