by Eve Gaddy
She opened the door, her words of greeting dying on her lips. Instead of Sean, her father stood on her doorstep. “Buster. What are you doing here?”
Buster Jordan was a big, barrel-chested man in his early fifties. “Can’t a man come see his little girl?”
“He could. But he doesn’t usually unless he wants something. What do you want?”
“Now, Honey, don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” The part of her that thought give him a break warred with the part that knew it was always the same old, same old with him.
He wouldn’t meet her eyes, which only reinforced her conclusion that this wasn’t Buster stopping by to see how she was. He wanted something.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?”
“I’m about to leave.” She relented enough to say, “You can stay until my date gets here.”
“You look real pretty, Honey. Just like your mother.” At the mention of his wife, Buster’s expression saddened. It always gave her a pang. Her world, and Buster’s, had fallen apart when Beth Jordan died. But Buster had pulled himself together for Honey’s sake.
By the time Honey grew up and moved out, Buster had started drinking. Not just drinking, but going on periodic deep, depressed binges.
Her dad walked in and looked around. “Still making those purses, I see. How’s that going?”
“Good.”
“Have you thought about making those things a full-time business?”
Honey didn’t take the bait. Her father was always trying to get her to quit the circuit and stick around Marietta. Which wasn’t going to happen for a number of reasons. One of the main ones being that she couldn’t remain in the same town as Buster all the time and expect to have any kind of a life. He was bad enough when she was in town periodically. If she were there all the time, he’d constantly be calling her to do something. More often than not, Honey did what he asked.
Her brothers were lucky. Their construction business in Billings gave them the perfect reason not to come around much. They’d come if Honey needed them, but they had told their father they would no longer cover for him. But Honey couldn’t do that, so she stayed away.
Someone knocked on the door. “There’s my date,” she told her dad.
“You can get that. I’ll wait.”
Gritting her teeth, she opened the door to Sean. “Hi. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
“No rush.” He pulled her to him, obviously intending to kiss her, but she turned her head so his kiss landed on her cheek.
He looked at her closely. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She stepped aside so he could come in. “Sean, this is my father, Buster Jordan. Buster, this is Sean Gallagher.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sean said, holding out his hand.
Buster shook it. “Are you one of the new Doctor Gallaghers?”
“I am. I work in the emergency room.”
“Well, well. Isn’t that nice? So you’re dating my Honey. I didn’t know Honey was seeing anyone from around here.”
Before Sean could answer, Honey said, “Buster, we need to go.”
“I won’t keep you, then. Good to meet you, Sean.” At the door, he paused and said, “Say, Honey, can you help me out on Monday?”
Damn. She’d almost gotten away free. “Depends on what it is.” And on whether he intended to be there or he wanted to dump the whole job on Honey. Which he knew she wouldn’t bring up in front of Sean.
“It’s a lighting job in Livingston. I’m a little short-handed and I need someone to supervise. I have an appointment and can’t be there.”
An appointment with the bottle, she bet. “What about Roger? Can’t he help you?” Roger was her father’s right-hand man.
“Roger? Oh, I had to let Roger go.”
“You let him go? Or he quit?”
For the first time, Buster looked irritated. “What difference does it make? He doesn’t work for me anymore and I need help. Are you gonna help me or not?”
Roger had quit. The fourth—or was it fifth?—right-hand man to quit. Now she knew what had happened yesterday. She wondered what Buster would do if she refused. Ten to one, he’d argue, wheedle, and look pitiful until she gave in.
Honey was very aware of Sean taking in the conversation. And, she had a feeling, drawing some pretty accurate conclusions. “Fine. Text me the address and the time.”
Buster was all smiles. Mr. Amiable. “I knew I could count on you, Honey. I expect I’ll be seeing you around, Sean.”
After he left, she closed the door and leaned back against it. She couldn’t think what to say, so she said nothing.
“Are you okay?”
The very last thing she wanted to do was discuss her alcoholic father with Sean. They were supposed to have fun. A fling. Flings did not include deep discussions about family issues. Honey plastered on a bright smile. “Of course. Let’s go.”
Chapter Eight
Sean appreciated short skirts. Especially short skirts worn by beautiful women. Judging by the number of Honey’s friends who teased her about “dressing up” by wearing a skirt and her fancy boots, he thought Honey was more of a jeans kind of girl. In the short time since she’d dropped into his arms, he’d seen her in several different outfits, and nothing at all. So far, he couldn’t find fault with any of them. His favorite, he admitted, was nothing at all.
They were a little late for dinner, but there was still plenty of barbecued steak, corn on the cob, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and grilled vegetables. There were a couple of cash bars as well as complimentary water and iced tea. The dessert tables had clearly been raided, but there were still chocolate pies, lemon pies, peach and berry cobblers, assorted cakes, and cookies from the ubiquitous chocolate chip, to peanut butter, to ones he didn’t recognize.
After they went through the buffet line and got their dinner, they found a couple of seats together at one of the long tables in the middle of Main Street. Honey’s friend, Martha, and her date, were at the same table, as well as some hometown people and many other people involved in the rodeo. Sean went off to get Honey and himself a beer.
Courtesy of Honey’s dad, there were lights strung along lampposts and twinkling overhead. Sean wondered how much work Honey had done on the lights. Had she been called on to help with the whole project, or had she only worked on the ones he’d seen her doing? Was that what was causing the trouble between them?
The scene between Honey and her father had been illuminating. Now he knew why she didn’t want to stay in Marietta. Or at least, part of the reason. He wasn’t sure what exactly was causing the friction between father and daughter, but a blind man could have seen the tension between them.
However, she obviously did not want to talk about it. Sean could understand that. There were a lot of things he didn’t want to talk about. Like his ex-girlfriend, for instance, and the reasons why they broke up.
Jack and Dylan had both asked him what the deal was with Theresa, but he’d shut them down quickly. Wyatt, thank God, had only one word to say when he’d told his brothers they had broken up and she wouldn’t be coming with him. “Women,” Wyatt had said with feeling.
One of the main reasons Sean didn’t like to talk about Theresa wasn’t so much, he had realized, that he’d been hurt by her lying and cheating. Yes, he had, but that was almost secondary. He didn’t like to think about it because he felt like an absolute fool for not seeing her for what she was.
He should have known Theresa was stringing him along. Maybe not at first. She’d been very convincing until they moved in together and she got a true idea of his hours. Which, admittedly, sucked.
Then Jack had convinced him he’d find life and practicing medicine in Marietta very much preferable to what he’d been doing. That, at least, had turned out to be true. The ER was still a busy place, but Sean liked being busy. What he hadn’t enjoyed in San Antonio, and every other large hospital he’d worked in, was the increasing number of gunshot wounds, knife wounds
, and other gang-related violence. Marietta, since it had become a Level III ER, drew patients from a large area, but most of the gang-related violence victims were from the larger cities and went to other hospitals.
His first clue about Theresa’s feelings had been when he’d asked her to move with him to Montana. She’d looked at him like he was crazy, but then she’d pulled herself together and said he’d surprised her, that was all. But that was when she’d started looking more seriously for his replacement.
While she told Sean she was job hunting and was sure she’d find something suitable, she hadn’t even looked for work and didn’t intend to. Theresa was an executive assistant, and a damn good one. No one ever accused her of stupidity. No, Sean had been the dumbass in that relationship. If a friend of his hadn’t told him she was cheating on him, he’d have gone on up to the moment he moved thinking she was going with him.
How stupid could he be?
Not stupid enough to think about that tonight. No more than he already had, anyway.
After dinner a band started tuning up. As soon as it did, Honey said, “Let’s dance,” took his hand, and dragged him to the courthouse parking lot, which was the makeshift dance floor. “The band is Bourbon and Boots. I really like them.”
“They’re good. The singer doesn’t sound like your usual country singer.” They both looked at the petite blond who was pouring her heart into the song.
“No, she doesn’t,” Honey agreed. “No twang.”
“You’re right, there’s no twang. I couldn’t put my finger on it.”
After several fast songs, the band played a slow one. Sean didn’t know the name, but it was pretty, and it meant he got to hold Honey close. She smelled good, that same fresh, crisp scent of flowers he’d noticed the first time he held her.
“Sean?” He looked down at her. “Are you ready to go?”
He smiled. “You read my mind. You’re good at that.”
“It’s one of my many talents,” she said modestly.
*
On the way home, Honey tried to think how to bring up the subject of their… relationship for lack of a better word. Finally, she decided to simply put it all out there. Sean opened his door and stood back to let her walk through. He tossed his keys onto the table by the door, turned to her, smiled and walked toward her.
Damn, he had such a great smile. But she wouldn’t be distracted. She put out a hand to ward him off. “I think we need to talk.”
He stopped just short of touching her. “That sounds ominous.”
“It’s not. But… I think we need cards on the table.”
“Cards on the table about—” He left it hanging.
“About you and me.”
“I’m listening.”
She walked around the room. Compared to her apartment, his was sterile. There were no pictures on the walls, no photos, family or otherwise, sitting out. She couldn’t remember if he had any in his bedroom. The night before she’d been focused on other things. “How long have you been in this apartment?” she asked curiously.
“A couple of months. Why?”
“You don’t have any stuff around. Other than a few books, anyway.”
He looked around as if seeing the room through her eyes. “I haven’t really unpacked. I’ve been thinking about buying a house, so it seemed like too much trouble to unpack a lot just to have to pack it up again.”
“So you’re staying put in Marietta.”
“Planning on it,” he agreed. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
“Not exactly. You know I’m leaving for another rodeo in a couple of weeks.”
“Yes, you told me.”
“I’m never in town for long. In fact, two weeks is about the longest I ever stick around.”
“Why?”
The simple question pulled her up short. Because I’m avoiding getting stuck with my father’s crap wasn’t the direction she wanted to take the conversation. “I need to make a living. Running barrels is how I do it. We qualified for the National Finals Rodeo two out of the last three years.”
“Wow. Qualifying for the NFR is quite an accomplishment. I knew you were good when I saw you this afternoon.”
“Thanks. But my point is, since I won’t be around much, I think we need to make it clear what this is.” She motioned between them. “Let’s keep things casual. We’re just having fun. Right?”
“If that’s what you want.”
Perversely, it annoyed her that he agreed so readily. Regardless, she plowed on. “Nothing serious, no strings, we just enjoy being with each other.”
“Okay.” He considered her for a moment. “What about when you come back in town? What happens then?”
She didn’t want to tell him how little she’d been in town in the last six months. “If neither of us is involved with anyone else, we can keep seeing each other. Casually.”
“And if one of us has gotten involved with someone else, what then?”
“Then it’s no hard feelings, and we’ll just be friends.”
“Instead of friends with benefits.”
“Right. So, shake on it?” She held out her hand.
He laughed and shook his head. Taking her hand, he yanked her to him. “I think we should seal the deal with a kiss.” His mouth came down on hers.
Instant heat. When she kissed him back, she started undoing his shirt buttons. He pulled her shirt out of her skirt and slid his hands beneath it to cup her breasts. She raised her arms, and he pulled the shirt over her head. Clothes started flying everywhere. They stumbled to the couch, and she straddled him, her skirt rucked up to her hips, her bra hanging by a strap off one shoulder.
He buried his face in her breasts, stringing kisses across them, sucking each nipple into his mouth. He still wore his jeans, but she could feel him through her thin panties, hot, hard and ready against her. His hand slipped between them, his fingers pushing aside her panties, stroking her until she thought she’d come right then and there.
Suddenly, he flipped her onto her back and stripped off her panties. She watched him undo his jeans and push them down, watched as he covered himself with a condom he’d pulled from his pocket.
“I see you thought you’d get lucky tonight.”
He slipped between her legs, nudged them wide open and waited, teasing her before he entered her. “I sure as hell hoped so.”
“I like a man who’s prepared.”
He thrust inside her, hard, deep. She gasped, clutched at his arms, then dug her nails into his back as he drove inside, slowly pulled out, then drove inside her again. And again. Until she was writhing, desperate. Out of control now, she spiraled, and her orgasm crashed over her in wave after wave. With a final lunge, he groaned and stilled.
“Oh. My. God,” she said. “That was—” At a loss for words, she halted.
He raised his head and kissed her. “Yes. It was.”
He rolled off her, stood and walked away. When he came back, he’d gotten rid of the condom. He scooped her into his arms and started toward the bedroom.
“My clothes are a mess.”
“Don’t worry. I can take care of that.” His smile was wicked. “It’s one of my many talents.”
“It certainly is,” she murmured much later.
Chapter Nine
Honey had been in a daze all morning. The night before with Sean had been even better than the first one. They’d made love several times, twice the night before and once that morning, in the shower. She’d never showered with a man before. But she’d always wondered what it would be like to make love in the shower. Now she knew.
Soapy slickness. Washing each other off until they were both so turned on that he braced her against the wall and pounded into her until all she could do was hold on and scream when she came. It had been a long time since she’d been with anyone, but she didn’t remember ever being quite so… wanton.
Sean hadn’t minded. In fact, he’d liked it. A lot. He’d made that quite clear, she th
ought, smiling.
“Honey!”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. “What?”
Martha stood eyeing her with her hands on her hips. “Do you know how long I’ve been standing here trying to get your attention?”
“I was thinking.” Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush. Maybe if she repeated the words often enough she could control it.
“Oh, girl, you’ve got it bad.”
Honey raised her chin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Martha gave a shout of laughter. “Then why were you sitting there with that big ol’ shit-eating grin on your face?”
“I was not.” Oh, crap. She probably had been. “FYI, I was thinking about the race.”
“Right. Of course you were,” her friend said in a tone that meant she didn’t believe that for a minute.
They talked a while longer before Martha had to get ready for her run. Once astride her horse, Honey put everything but the run and Halo out of her mind. She was jazzed. They had a really good shot at winning the whole thing today. Halo was as ready to go as she was. More so. The mare pawed the ground, snorted and threw back her head. Honey leaned forward, patting her cheek in just the spot she loved. “We’re going to rock, Halo. We’re going to blow their times to hell and back.” She continued talking to the mare, just as she did prior to every run.
Halo knew the difference between a practice run and a competition. Honey wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the noise, or the crowds. Or the other horses. Halo undoubtedly sensed the crackle of excitement in the air. Honey felt it too, and it always revved her up.
Today, they’d drawn next to last. The spot had its pluses and minuses, as they all did. Honey and the mare both preferred to run toward the end. Honey liked last start best. Because if they were last, like yesterday, she knew exactly what she needed to do. Halo got more jacked the longer they waited. That had both good points and bad. Good if Halo could contain it and focus on the run. Bad if she got so jacked she ran into the gate or the fence.
