Ray: Riding Hard Book 7

by Ashley Jennifer

  Karen lifted two mugs from a glass-fronted cabinet and set them on the immaculate counter, filling them with fragrant coffee from her latest model coffee machine.

  “You going to tell me why you’re riding around at five in the morning looking like hell?” Karen asked as she handed him the mug. Her hair was neatly arranged, like her suit. Jack couldn’t help imagining her with hair coming out of the French braid, her jacket off, blouse unbuttoned. No wonder Deke didn’t want to go.

  “Catching vandals.” Jack explained briefly, and Karen nodded with satisfaction and sympathy.

  “Poor Drew. I’ll have to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Ray’s with her.” Jack lifted his mug. “That’s going somewhere, I think. What about you? Why the hell do you go out with guys like Deke?”

  Something flashed in Karen’s brown eyes, which she suppressed with a shrug and smile. “Why else? He’s cute and sexy.”

  “What you mean is, you can have control over him and end it when you want. No matter what he thinks.”

  Again the flash of … Anger? Irritation? Sorrow? “It’s easier that way.”

  “For you, sure.” Jack took a sip of coffee. “Out of curiosity, why don’t you try going out with a real guy? You know, not a rodeo star barely out of his mama’s house?”

  “You mean a man who wants me to fawn over him and his corner office when I know I’m smarter than he is and better at making money? Pretend I’m a quiet little nobody so I won’t step on his ego? Be there for him when he wants me and be invisible when he doesn’t?”

  “No.” Jack set down his coffee and took a step closer to her. “I mean a real guy. One you can talk to. One who gets you.”

  “I’ve never met anyone like that.” Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Or do you mean a real guy as in you?”

  Jack shrugged, his chest tightening. “Why not me? I’m not a stud who thinks his dick is bigger than the truck you give him, and I don’t give a shit if you make more money than I do. I have a business, and I’m happy with it. I don’t have to take beautiful women out to dinner to prove to myself I’m not a loser.”

  “So you’d rather take an old bitch like me?” Karen gave him a wintery smile. “Like Deke tried to say?”

  “Deke can suck it.” Jack took another step, close enough to reach out and touch her if he decided to. “You’re not an old bitch. Not old anyway—you can be bitchy, and you know it and like it. Take a chance, Karen. Go out with someone you can actually talk to.”

  “What am I going to talk about with you? Motorcycles?”

  “Whatever the hell you want.”

  Karen’s lips parted, as though she’d give him another smart-ass retort, but her expression turned wistful. “I used to ride,” she surprised him by saying. “A long time ago. I gave up bikes because I had to keep my dresses nice for meetings and looking good on the arm of my stupid husband of the moment.”

  “There you go.”

  Her eyes sharpened again. “And then what? You brag around town that you banged Karen Marvin? Who only dates hot cowboys younger than twenty-eight?”

  “You’re seriously all about yourself, aren’t you?”

  As Karen glared at him, Jack saw the sorrow he’d sensed before, and also trepidation. This was a woman who’d been burned and burned bad. She dated guys like Deke and tossed them aside when she got bored, so she wouldn’t be hurt. If she never involved herself with someone she might truly like, she’d be safe.

  And lonely as hell. No one ever said the words “lonely” and “Karen Marvin” in the same sentence, but Jack, who said little and saw much, knew she was.

  “Tell you what,” he said, gentling his tone. “Go out with me. We’ll ride, we’ll eat, whatever. No banging. Not even any fondling. We can hang out, see if we like it.”

  His body kicked him as soon as the words came out. What was he saying? Take out a gorgeous woman like Karen and not touch her? He had to be seriously tired.

  Karen regarded him with new respect and a little bit of hope. She flicked her fingers as though nonchalant. “Sure. But if I’m to be hanging on the back of your bike, what am I supposed to wear? Black leather catsuit?”

  Jack’s zipper got tight as the flash came to him of Karen in skintight black leather, her golden hair windswept, her eyes glinting in good humor.

  He swallowed and shook his head. “No fake biker-chick shit. Just wear something comfortable. If you used to ride, you’ll know.”

  Karen’s teasing faded. “I remember. Now finish your coffee. I have to go. Business to run.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Jack drained his mug of the seriously good coffee, set it in the sink, and ran water into it.

  When Karen looked astonished that he’d actually rinse out his own cup, he grinned at her, threaded one hand through her hair as she leaned next to him, and kissed her on the mouth.

  Brief, warm, soft, sleek, a touch of lips and not much more. But enough that Jack tasted coffee, and nervousness, and anticipation.

  “See you, Karen,” he made himself say, and took himself out of the house.

  He expected her to call something after him, some cutting remark about him messing up her hair, or thinking he was irresistible, but she said nothing.

  Jack fought the temptation to look back at the house and her on the porch as he settled his helmet and started up his bike. He rode away, his heart thumping hard, and noticed his hands were shaking.

  * * *

  Drew called Jules’s cell number and got no answer. He’d know it was her, so she left a message, deciding to pretend she didn’t realize he’d tried to sabotage her house.

  “How are you, Jules? Can you give me a call?” She hung up, quivering in anger. “You total betraying, gutless bastard.”

  Ray set a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, understanding and just as angry. “The kids told Ross your brother-in-law called or texted them with instructions—they never saw him face to face. Which means he might be hiding out nearby … or still in Chicago.”

  “He’d have to pay them. How did he plan to do that?”

  Ray’s grim mouth softened. “PayPal. Which means it might be very easy to prove his connection with them. Unless he’s smart enough to set up a bogus account and bogus credit card.”

  Drew sat up straighter. “I bet he simply planned not to pay them at all. Jules is good at making promises he doesn’t keep. They’d never met him, don’t know where he’s from, and he only gave them his nickname—what could they do?”

  “You said it was your husband’s nickname too,” Ray said, curious. “How’d that work?”

  Drew rolled her eyes, remembering. “A play on their last name of Bolan. Bolo One and Bolo Two. Philip was One. When I first met Philip, I thought it was cute.” She wrinkled her nose. “It got annoying seriously quick.”

  Ray’s grin lit his face. “They called themselves Number One and Number Two? Man, you could have had fun with that.”

  Drew started to feel better. “I did once. They were furious.” Philip had been icy to her for a week. “Worth it.”

  “Stop me if I ever want to take a stupid nickname. Ray is bad enough.”

  “I like Ray.” Drew slid her fingers over his. “Like Little Ray of Sunshine.”

  Ray choked and set down his cup. He grabbed her hand. “Oh, hell, no.”

  “How about Hot Cowboy?” Drew rose to meet him. “I like that one.”

  Ray pulled her closer. “Just don’t say it in front of Kyle. Or my sisters. Or my friends. Well, anyone.”

  Drew went up on her tiptoes, brushing his mouth with hers. “I love you, my hot cowboy.”

  Ray froze, and Drew realized what she’d just said.

  The words had come out so naturally, without thought. The way truth often did.

  Ray looked down at her, green eyes glittering. His chest rose sharply but he was otherwise utterly still.

  She expected him at any moment to say something like this was moving too fast, they needed to take a step back, decide where th
is was going. Which was usually code for, “See ya. Don’t call me.”

  “Yes, I said it.” Drew’s voice shook. “I’m owning it. Not taking it back.”

  Ray remained silent as he gazed down at her, not a muscle moving.

  Then with a strength that startled her, he dragged Drew against him and gave her a fierce, hot kiss.

  He tasted of coffee, passion, anger. Drew sensed pent-up emotions boil to the surface, pouring out of him in a powerful kiss.

  Ray lifted her from her feet, cradling her against his hard chest. “Never take it back,” he said swiftly. “Never.”

  They were in the bedroom in a few steps, Ray kicking the door closed. The bed was still messy from their abrupt departure this morning, but it didn’t stop Ray from depositing Drew on the bed, stripping her and himself of clothes and making fast and furious love to her.

  * * *

  Ray lay next to Drew, who was awake, breathing hard after their wild ride. They were on top of the blankets, the sunshine enough to keep them comfortable. They’d also just generated a lot of heat.

  He’d never met a woman like her.

  Drew turned her head on the pillow and caught Ray looking at her. She flushed. “Hi.”

  “Hey, yourself.” Ray moved closer and kissed her, savoring her.

  When he finished, he remained on his elbow, gazing down at her. Outside, the real world waited for them to dress and go, to join it again. Ray saw no reason to rush.

  “I feel …” Drew considered. “Decadent.”

  “Yeah? Is that good?”

  Drew’s answering smile told Ray all he needed to know. “I’ve never been decadent before. I always did the responsible thing—went to work, brought home the groceries, made sure my kid had everything she needed.” Drew passed fingers over her cheek. “What’s happened to me?”

  “You abandoned Erica to the Campbells. You’ll have to pay for that.”

  Drew laughed softly. “She’s abandoned me. Can’t wait to rush over there and ride horses with her new friends.” She let out a breath. “She’s so happy, Ray. I’ve never seen her this happy.”

  Ray wiped a tear from her lashes. “And that makes you cry?”

  “If you only knew. She had a hard time when her dad died, but she never broke down. But I knew she hurt. And I couldn’t make it better. We just slogged on day after day. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t good either. You know?”

  “I think I understand.” Day to day life—he got through it, but it was like walking through molasses sometimes. Lately though, he’d wanted to dance on light feet, like he had last night, with Drew in his arms.

  She’d told him she loved him. Right out there in the kitchen. Ray didn’t know if she’d been lost in a happy moment or really meant it, and he didn’t want to ask to find out.

  What if he told her he loved her too? Ray’s throat closed up and he lay back down. If he said that, and she laughed at him, it would rip his guts out.

  Best be quiet and see how things went.

  “You okay?” Drew loomed over him in concern.

  Ray rearranged his expression. “With a beautiful naked woman bending over me? I think I’m just fine.”

  “Goof.” Drew rubbed his shoulder playfully.

  Ray growled. He pulled her down to him, kissing her and losing himself in her once more.

  * * *

  Jules never called back, nor did he show up in Riverbend. Drew didn’t pursue it, not wanting him to know she knew what he’d done.

  Ross Campbell told her he’d checked with his contacts in Chicago, who related that Jules Bolan hadn’t left town—was living in his house and going to work every day as usual. Ross had no way of connecting him with the kids who’d vandalized the house except their word, and it was a vague word. Jules, as Drew suspected, hadn’t tried to pay his hirelings, so they couldn’t trace him through the payment.

  Ross said, in a reassuring tone, that he didn’t think Jules would try again once he found out the young men had been caught. Too risky.

  Drew didn’t quite agree. Jules could be underhanded. But tearing down work she’d spent money on to prevent her from inheriting the B&B showed a vindictiveness she hadn’t realized he had. Did he really hate her that much?

  Drew heard nothing more from Jules, however, and the work remained undisturbed. Jack and his workers returned, Ray joined them, and the house progressed little by little.

  Why she’d decided to tell Ray, loud and clear, that she loved him, she didn’t know. Well, she hadn’t decided. It slipped out. Needed to.

  A long time had passed since she’d fallen in love with a man, if she ever had. She’d been infatuated with Philip—she understood that now. Drew hadn’t known what honest love felt like until Erica had been put into her arms.

  She felt that now for Ray.

  But if he wanted to keep it casual, she’d keep it casual. What they had was great. Why mess that up?

  She said nothing more about it, and neither did he. He continued to be his hot, wonderful self, and she let things rest there.

  October became November, and chilly nights set in. Drew observed with amusement that Riverbenders thought it was cold. But the sun still shone and afternoons could be warm. No snow in sight.

  One evening, when the air was crisp, and Thanksgiving and football was on everyone’s minds, Ray asked Drew to go with him into town.

  Erica was once again with the Campbells. Her riding had progressed, and she was to compete in a local horse show held the week before Thanksgiving, a small event for the kids of River County to show off their skills. Erica was deeply invested in Riverbend now, and Drew hoped to never uproot her again.

  Ray said nothing about where they were going as they headed into Riverbend. Drew assumed the diner, but Ray drove past it and parked behind the library.

  “This is your big surprise?” Drew asked, sending him a teasing smile. “A night at the library?”

  Ray looked mysterious and led her inside.

  In a meeting room on the main floor—the room a harmony of polished wood and historic furniture—Drew found a circle of people waiting. Mrs. Ward and Dena, the librarian. Olivia Campbell, the matriarch of the Campbell clan. Mr. Carew, who ran the bank. Mr. Carew sat close to Olivia, the two sharing space that told Drew that if they weren’t together, they soon would be.

  Mrs. Kaye, the final member of the little group, passed around a tray of cookies. She held the tray out to Drew, beaming a smile.

  “So glad you’re here, dear. Cookie? Grace made them at her bakery, so you know they’ll be extra good.”

  Drew readily took one—they looked chocolatey and gooey. “Thank you. Is this a book club? What are you reading?”

  “No, dear. You sit down over there, with Ray.” Mrs. Kaye pointed to two empty chairs. When Drew and Ray obediently took their seats, Mrs. Kaye stood before them, cookie tray dispensed with, hands folded.

  “Ray asked us to be here tonight, honey,” Mrs. Kaye announced. “We’re going to tell you about your grandparents. The truth. I think, looking around the room, that I’m the only one left who knows all of it.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Drew didn’t have time to be surprised or trepidatious—Mrs. Kaye launched straight into her tale.

  “Now, Miss Paresky, I know these ladies gave you the impression that your father might have been illegitimate. At least, not really a Paresky.” She gave Mrs. Ward and Dena a disapproving look. “But they were just girls at the time, and they only remember the gossip. Abby Paresky was my friend.”

  Mrs. Ward looked contrite, a strange thing to see in the formidable woman. Dena frowned, clearly unhappy at being called out.

  Mrs. Kaye went on. “Your grandma and I were indeed wild girls, dear. You might laugh about that now, but we had long legs and long hair and we chased handsome men. Caught them too.” She smiled in remembered delight. “I was lucky—I met Mr. Kaye and had fun fending him off for a while. Abby, she was never certain what she wanted. She and your gra
ndfather went out from time to time, and she liked him, I could tell. But Lonnie was the settle-down type, and Abby had a hankering to see the world. Can’t blame her. In that day and age, women were supposed to get married and have babies as soon as they graduated high school. We even took classes on housekeeping so we’d be ready. Girls were going to college by then, yes, but most of the ones I knew went with the goal of meeting potential husbands. Abby and I planned to change the world, but Riverbend wasn’t the place to do it from.”

  “Times aren’t so different,” Olivia Campbell broke in. “Girls are still expected to be moms as soon as possible. But there’s nothing wrong with having a family.”

  She spoke with the pride of a matriarch who had five sons and plenty of grandchildren.

  “Did I say there was, Livvy Campbell?” Mrs. Kaye demanded. “Mr. Kaye and I did just fine. Love only grows deeper as the years go on—that is, if you choose the right partner in the first place. Abby couldn’t ever make up her mind whether Lonnie was the right one or not.”

  “But she married my grandfather in the end,” Drew said.

  “She did. After she got pregnant. She let everyone in town believe that the bull rider she’d been going out with—what’s his name … Travis, I think—was the dad. I asked her why, when I knew darn well her baby was Lonnie Paresky’s.”

  “How did you know?” Drew asked. Ray reached over and took one of her hands, his strength comforting. “Did she tell you?”

  Mrs. Kaye sent her a pitying look. “Because she never shared a bed with anyone but Lonnie, that’s how I knew. She pretended to chase the cowboys, but she always went home alone, or with me, or with Lonnie. Abby was shy, and afraid of being pushed into a life she didn’t want. Back then, it was hard for a woman to strike out on her own. Best thing she could do was find a man who wanted the same things she did. Lonnie loved her—would do anything for her.”

  Drew’s eyes stung. “Then why couldn’t they make it work out?”