Too Hot To Trot (#3, Cowboy Way)

by Becky McGraw

  The guard frowned, took a step toward them, and Heather knew the look on his face. She turned and pushed Zack back through the door. The last thing she needed right now was Zack to get arrested, because of her. “Just go, my feet are fine.”

  He walked down the steps but quickly turned back toward her. “This damned lot is nothing but pea gravel. Your feet will be bleeding by the time you get to the truck.”

  His concern touched something deep inside of her, and her heart did a funny little flip in her chest. One side of Heather’s mouth kicked up, in the nearest to a smile she’d worn in over a week, and she reached up to touch it. “I’d walk over hot coals to get out of here—broken glass,” she said, truthfully. Never had air smelled sweeter, the face looking up at her handsomer. The sun shone down on his golden hair, making it look like he was wearing a halo.

  Zack called her angel a lot, but in truth he was the one who was her angel. If he hadn’t saved her from that asshole in the parking lot that night, saved her from going back to Tulsa today, Heather would be dead. Either physically or inside. Same difference.

  She was so damned glad to see Zack Taylor, she could kiss him, and the urge to do just that at the moment was so strong, it took everything in her to resist. From his eyes, which were fixed on her mouth, he seemed to be having similar thoughts. But they needed to get the hell out of here, before those guards inside changed their minds and kept her.

  “Let’s just go,” she said, stepping down twice so she was one step above him.

  He didn’t move. His brows furrowed over his clear blue eyes. “I can’t carry you in my arms, sweet thing, but I can fireman carry you to the truck.” He bent over and tapped his left shoulder. “Hop onboard, the Taylor Express is leaving this hellhole.”

  “I can walk,” she protested, trying to move around him, but his arm snaked around her waist and tightened, and his eyes were determined when they met hers.

  “Seriously, lean over my shoulder.” It was obvious Zack wasn’t taking no for an answer, so with a sigh, Heather complied.

  While he carried her across the parking lot, she tried to ignore how good his arm felt wrapped around the back of her thighs, how good his tight back muscles felt moving under her fingers. How damned good he smelled, his shirt fresh from sunshine, his woodsy cologne spicing it. He smelled like heaven, but she knew she must smell just like that nasty jail cell. When they made her change clothes last night, she’d only rinsed off quickly, because it was as dirty as the rest of the place. And the bar of soap looked to be lye and well used by other inmates.

  “Thank you for saving me,” Heather murmured, but didn’t think he heard her, because he didn’t respond or break pace. He carried her to the truck, where he set her down to pull her into a tight one-armed hug she felt all the way to her toes. Heather put her arms around his waist and squeezed him just as hard, rubbing her face against his chest to roll herself in his delicious scent. She realized right then just how badly she’d missed him, how good it felt to be in his arms again.

  “I was so damned scared,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

  “I know you were,” he replied, with a kiss to the top of her tangled, dirty hair. Heather shivered thinking about what was crawling around in there. “You should’ve called me, or at least called Twyla,” he growled, shoving her away to glare down at her.

  Not only did Twyla have a family to worry about now, Heather didn’t call her because she knew she would’ve told Zack. He was the last person she wanted to know she was in jail. She had no idea where she and Zack stood.

  Zack Taylor had been her lover, but he wasn’t her friend. Not the kind of friend you call to bail you out of jail or help when you needed them. She didn’t have friends like that, not even Twyla. This was her problem, not theirs. But she definitely wasn’t getting into an argument with him now, and from the thundercloud in his eyes if she said that to him, that’s exactly what she’d get. “I need a shower and a hamburger or two—maybe a dozen,” she said with laugh, as she stepped away from the door.

  “Coming right up,” he said, opening the door for her. “We’ll stop on the way to your apartment. We’re going to stay there for a few days. I’ve got to see the doctor before we go to the ranch, and you need to pack up.”

  Pack up. The soft, euphoric feeling she’d had since she walked out the door of that jail fled. Zack was forcing her to move to his ranch with him to keep an eye on her, protect his property bond. She really couldn’t blame him, but she didn’t want to go there. She wanted to stay at her apartment. Heather knew what was at stake, what Zack was risking to help her, and there was no way she would run and make him lose his ranch. Maybe before they left to go to the ranch she could convince him of that.

  The second part of his statement locked into her brain, and worry filled her as she hopped up into the truck with a boost from him. His arm must be bothering him badly for Zack to decide he needed to see the doctor again. He was as hardheaded as she was.

  “Your arm hurting again?” she asked, before he shut the door.

  “Never stopped, but it’s gotten bad again,” he replied nonchalantly.

  Zack closed the door and jogged around the front to get inside, and when he got behind the wheel Heather turned in the seat. “I told you to finish that damned therapy,” she said angrily.

  “What’ve you been doing out there at the ranch?”

  Zack shrugged as he cranked the truck. “Digging postholes, laying fence posts,” he replied, looking over his shoulder to back out of the parking spot. “Getting the ranch ready for my herd, which has to be moved in two weeks, because the guys I had managing them can’t keep them anymore.” He pressed the brake, and his angry eyes met hers. “That’s why I left your apartment, angel. Not because I was a pussy quitter.”

  The words flew out of her mouth, before they registered on her brain. “No, you left because you think I’m a prick tease. Now, I’m a criminal too, so again I ask what the hell are you doing here, Zack?”

  Her vision blurred as she folded her arms around her body to stop the ache in her chest. So much for avoiding an argument, she thought, as she saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. Well, this one was long overdue, and maybe if he was pissed enough, he’d just drop her off at her apartment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was time for Zack to end this argument. Especially since they were going to be living together for the next few months. Fighting to keep his voice calm, he glanced over at Heather, then back at the road. “I don’t think you’re a prick tease at all. The only reason I said that is I was upset about having to move the herd, and not being able to ride again. Add sexual frustration to that and I snapped. I’m sorry again.”

  “Sorry won’t fix this one, cowboy,” Heather said sadly. “Neither will your excuses.”

  His hands tightened on the wheel, as his brain fought for the right words. “I swear that’s not what I think about you, angel. What I’ve come to know about you is you are a beautiful woman who’s had a rough start in life. Because of that, you lack the self-confidence to use other methods of striking back at people, you use your body. You deliver exactly what people expect from you, to pay them back for hurting you. What you’re really doing is hurting yourself.” He glanced at her again, and smiled, hoping it didn’t come off looking like a snarl. “You have so much more than that to offer the world, sweet thing, you just have to choose to prove them wrong, instead of giving them what they expect. Don’t be a pussy quitter at life, be a fighter.”

  When she didn’t immediately respond, Zack looked over at her again and found she had her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her face turned to look out the window. Dammit, he hadn’t gotten through to her. But at least she’d heard him, and hadn’t blasted him. He drove a few more long minutes, and with each mile the air inside the cab of his truck got thicker. Zack could almost feel the heat radiating off of her body from clear across the cab.

  She surprised him when her body relaxed and she suddenly tur
ned in the seat to face him again. “I haven’t quit on life. I’ve fought to survive for twelve years, so explain to me why you think the way you do.” Her arms were still loosely wrapped around her middle, but her look said she was receptive.

  Zack huffed a relieved breath. “Life’s about choices, sweet thing. You are a survivor, have done whatever you thought it took to survive. What you haven’t done is have enough faith in yourself to make different choices. Better choices.” He glanced at her to gauge her reaction, and saw a blank look on her beautiful, ravaged face.

  “Examples, please,” she replied, sounding genuinely interested.

  The words rolled off of his tongue. “The way you dress says you think your only worth is in your body. If that’s what you think, that’s what everyone else will believe.”

  “Okay, what else do you think I could I have done to earn seven hundred dollars a week without dancing? That’s what this is all about right? Cleaning stalls, and riding in a stupid act at the rodeo didn’t earn me that. I was living in a freaking travel trailer, and had no vehicle.”

  That led Zack to ask the question that had burned in his mind for a helluva long time. Too long. “What did you have to do for old Tim in that travel trailer to live there?”

  He saw her stiffen up. “Clean stalls to help him—that’s all.”

  “How’d you meet him?” Zack cast her a curious glance, then held his breath for long minutes thinking she wouldn’t answer.

  The silence became deafening, until she finally sighed. “After I ran away from Tulsa, I lived under a bridge for three years. Those people became my family, a dysfunctional one, but they were all I had. I was broke, needed to eat.” The emotion in her voice ripped at his heart—Zack could practically feel her desperation and wanted to find Jack Thomas and punch his lights out, or more. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shrug. “You’re not so far off thinking I’m a whore. Or thought about being one. One of the women suggested I turn a trick or two to make some money. She loaned me clothes, helped me get fixed up, then I waited outside the rodeo arena in town because she said that was a good place to pick up a john. I was scared shitless when Tim picked me up, but he shocked me when he just wanted to talk. He took me to a diner and bought me dinner, then offered me a job. Later he told me it was because he knew I was scared, and saw how young I was. I reminded him of his daughter he hadn’t seen in ten years.”

  That was about the sorriest, the saddest, fucking story he’d ever heard. Thank goodness Tim found her or Lord knew where she’d be today. It took a moment for Zack to work his words past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, angel,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse.

  Being raised in the kind of loving family he had gave him no benchmark to understand her living the way she had. He was so damned thankful he had them, even more thankful after hearing how it could have been otherwise.

  “No need to be sorry,” she said with a shrug. “Like I said, I did what I had to do to survive. I still do that, will probably do it until the day I die. So, my point is, what I do is not a choice. There’s no ulterior neurotic motive behind me choosing dancing. I use my body to earn a living, and fortunately I’ve been able to do that without taking my clothes off. It’s not self-confidence I lack to do something else, it’s an education—I didn’t even graduate high school. I have no skills other than using my body to earn a living.”

  More notches chipped out of his highbrow theories. He started to apologize to her again, because he owed it to her, but since she was talking, he decided to dig the rest of the story out of her. “So how’d you get to strip—um, dancing?”

  “When we stopped in Houston, I heard two of the riders talking about going to a cowgirl strip club. Tim had been talking about retiring, and I knew I needed to find something else to do. I joined the color guard, yeah, but it didn’t take long for me to realize that was a dead end. Not enough money to even eat, and I didn’t want to clean stalls anymore. I asked to go with the riders, and talked to Leon after I saw it wasn’t a strip club and how much money the girls were making without taking their clothes off.” Heather refolded her arms around herself, and tilted her head. “That answer your burning questions, cowboy? If so, tell me about all these choices I had and how I made the wrong ones, I’m listening.”

  Zack been dead wrong, and he felt like the judgmental bastard she’d called him more than once. Heather was right, she’d had no choice. “I’m sorry, Heather. I was wrong, and mis—um—judged you.” He blew out a breath, and flinched. “I apologize for judging you at all.”

  After this was over, Zack was going to make sure she had more choices. Opportunities that she’d never been given to do better. He’d help her get her high school diploma, help her go to college if she wanted to do that. He was sure now that’s exactly what old Tim had in mind when he picked her up, he just didn’t have the resources to help her beyond giving her a job. Zack was going to make sure that Heather never had to worry about living under a bridge, or turning tricks to eat again. And she was never, never going to have to worry about Jack Thomas again. If it took every penny he had, he was getting her out of this mess, and that bastard was going down.

  “Apology accepted,” she said, the corner of her full mouth kicking up.

  “Scoot over here,” he growled. Her eyes widened, became wary, and God he hated when that happened. “I need something to rest my arm on,” he lied. At the moment, his arm wasn’t throbbing, he just wanted her closer. She looked like she needed it, and he knew he did.

  “I smell like a dumpster diver,” she said looking down at herself. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice when you carried me earlier.”

  She was probably very familiar with what a dumpster diver smelled like, Zack thought, and his stomach rolled. “I don’t give a damn…just move over here.”

  Heather crawled across the seat to sit beside him, and Zack tried to lift his arm, but couldn’t get it past waist level. Heather lifted it for him to rest it over her shoulders, before she scooted even closer then put her hand on his thigh, and Zack’s cock tightened his jeans.

  “Thank you for bailing me out,” Heather said, resting her head on his shoulder, instead of his bicep. “So how bad is your arm?”

  “About like it was the first week after I got out of the hospital.”

  “You were stupid for quitting therapy. Stupider for working so hard out at that ranch you hurt yourself again,” she said, tilting her head to look up at him.

  “I know, but I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Life’s about choices, Mr. Taylor,” she said sarcastically.

  His words didn’t taste so sweet coming back at him. Zack hit a bump and Heather’s fingers tightened on his thigh. The heat of her palm burned through his jeans, and scorched a trail to his cock. He hit another pothole, her hand gripped tighter, moved higher, and Zack’s cock strained against his zipper. “Sweet thing, I need you to move your hand off my leg,” he groaned, almost ready to let the wheel go to move it himself.

  “Oh—I think I see the problem,” Heather said in a naughty tone, as she grazed her fingertips up his zipper, causing tiny vibrations to buzz along his shaft to the top. Zack swerved, and Heather fell against him, catching herself with a hand on his upper thigh.

  “Your jeans are too tight, cowboy,” she announced, dipping her head toward his lap where her hot breath heated his zipper while she fought to work the button above it loose. It came free, and he whimpered, tried to keep his focus on the road so he didn’t wreck, as she slowly slid his zipper down the track. Every tooth that released was sheer torture, when she reached the bottom of the track he was in hell. Gritting his teeth, Zack’s breaths came in short spurts, as his mind conjured all kinds of delicious things she could be up to—things he definitely wanted her to do right then—but he was driving, and he knew he’d wind up in a ditch if she didn’t stop.

  “Stop it,” he growled, letting go of the wheel just long enough to put his left hand on her head to push her away. She sat
up on the seat, looking flushed and confused. “We’re almost home, and I want to get there in one piece.”

  With a huffed breath, she turned and sat back on the seat beside him. “Yeah, putting your truck into a tree is no fun.”

  “Is that how you ended up in jail?” he asked, his gut rolling. He knew she was in for no license and insurance, before the other charges were filed, but nobody mentioned a crash.

  “Yeah, a deer darted out in front of me and hit the windshield. I couldn’t see anything, so I ended up across the road and hit a tree.”

  Fear turned his blood to ice water in his veins. She was damned lucky she didn’t kill herself. “I’d say you were damned lucky.”

  “Depends on how you look at it, I guess,” she said with a shrug. “Being in jail did not make me happy to be alive, and my truck is totaled.”

  No those things weren’t fortunate, but in Zack’s opinion the fact that the accident brought the situation with her stepfather to a head so it could be dealt with sure was. “Think positive, angel. You didn’t kill yourself, and soon you can be Haley Morgan again.”

  Heather shivered, and the disgust on her face was complete. “I don’t want to be Haley Morgan again.” She hugged herself, and cast her gaze out the side window again. “That girl is dead. She was too weak to live.”

  “No, she’s just been hiding in the closet because she was scared, had every reason to hide,” Zack replied, more determined than ever to help her reclaim that woman. “We’re going to make her feel safe again, so she can finally become the woman she was meant to be.”

  An almost imperceptible whimper was her response. “We’ll see what happens, but Haley Morgan is probably going to jail, because I am not letting you spend a fortune on a hopeless cause.”

  At that moment he wished like hell he could make his arm hug her tighter. “You’re not hopeless, baby, and neither is your situation. We’re going to get through this, and then you don’t have to hide in the shadows anymore. I know Heather Morrison, and she’s pretty damned special, but I want to meet Haley Morgan too.”