Loving a Bad Boy (Bad Boys Western Romance Book 4)

by Susan Arden

“Don’t wait on me. Why not pursue one of those hobbies you talk about? Or take up Aunt Belinda’s offer when she asks you over for bridge?”

  “Sweet Sommer, that’s what mothers do.” Rae smiled then quickly added, “Oh, I need to get a towel. My beverage spilled. Dear Lord, I can’t possibly take those horse pills without something to sip.”

  Before she rushed by, Sommer reached out and steadied her. “How about I get a towel?”

  Momma laughed nervously. “It’s only water, but I just can’t ignore it.”

  “Right. Should I bring you another glass of water?” She doubted her mother was drinking straight ice water, but miracles did occur.

  “Mmm, well… how about just some ice. It’s so warm today. I’m melting like a popsicle on the Fourth of July.” Rae’s eyes went wide. It was hard to tell if this were an attempt at innocence or hyper excitement. Both were possibilities.

  “Ice. Can I get your glass?” Carefully, Sommer broached an ongoing sore spot and asked, “So did you take your medicine?”

  “I think…just bring another.” Her mother nodded, not really answering her question, and smiled. “I’m so pleased you’ll be able to meet Henry.”

  “Me too, Momma, but what about your medicine?”

  “Oh Sommer, I can’t remember and you know I can’t take too much. I don’t want to overdose and get sick.”

  Sommer walked back through the living room, the muscles in her shoulders and over her chest tangled into several knots. Instead of going to the kitchen, she marched outside and all the way to Rory’s truck. He was inside the cab talking, but once their gazes fused, he raised an eyebrow, and must have said goodbye to whoever was on the phone.

  Rory opened his truck door and stepped out. “What’s going on?”

  He’d been through some of the things that she’d battled with her mom’s various mental states. She’d learned years ago that she could trust Rory not to carry tales of what he’d witnessed. But dealing with it still hurt, a pinch to her chest that she had to always wonder what she’d come home and find.

  “My mom’s in one of her moods,” she began, glancing down at the pavement.

  “Want me to come inside?” he asked.

  She swung her head from side to side. “Maybe we should meet up later.”

  “Rethink that one,” he began and pressed his fingers to her face, tipping up her chin. “Be straight with me. What’s up today?”

  Today. Bipolar mood swing? She didn’t know if this was another hyper episode of Momma’s mania, or if she had been drinking. It sure wasn’t her usual depressed state. “My mother has a date,” she said.

  “A date?” Even Rory repeated the idea—it was that farfetched.

  “It’s not as if I’m hip on needless worry, but I can’t ignore what’s happened in the past,” she breathed out. “Could be a good thing, but it could also be another cycle. I don’t want you to pitch in and be forced to deal with it on top of all you have going on. She doesn’t seem strung out. Actually, she’s fixed herself up and looks nice for a change.”

  “And you’re worried.”

  She grimaced. “I don’t want to look for problems, but this is so unlike Momma. I need to see who this guy is. Someone named Henry Smith. I think.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell Rory Momma wasn’t even sure of the man’s name.

  “I don’t know anyone named Henry.” He kissed the side of her head and murmured, “Well, it’s a good thing we came home. We’re here in time to check Henry out.”

  “We?” She sucked in her bottom lip. “Like I said, we can meet up later.”

  “Forget it. I’m here and I’m not leaving without you.”

  After meeting Henry, and talking with him for a good thirty minutes, Sommer discovered that her mom had met him from a classified ad placed in the church singles newsletter. He wasn’t that different from Momma. But unlike her mom, Henry lived at home with his mother. Maybe he was like her in that respect. What a thought!

  Out on the porch, she and Rory had watched them drive off. Momma and Henry had plans to head over to the diner and then to the movies. Nothing outlandish.

  Now, sitting inside Rory’s truck, she had the distinct feeling that the proverbial guardian shoe was on the other foot. That moment, when she and Rory had stood on the porch and waved, personified her existence. For years, she’d been the guardian for her mother. Would it be like this forever, where she was stuck from moving forward?

  “Thanks for staying and help grill Henry. He seems nice. What’d you think of him?”

  As Rory drove, he glanced over to her, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he is. He works at a bank, goes to church, and lives at home.”

  Sommer ran her hand down his muscular arm, arriving at his long hand resting on her thigh. She flexed her leg muscles, wanting to feel his fingers touching her again, and deliver her to the realm where no thinking was required. She sighed at the sudden realization that they were already at the Double Diamond.

  “Talk about busy,” she murmured as he parked. Loads of people were out tonight, and she’d expected it to be like all the other community barbeques—not this busy, where parking was at a premium.

  “Apparently, something’s up,” he remarked.

  Several grills were strung together along with the large blue commercial one that Hank ran. Billowing smoke rose above the crowd, and once they exited his truck, she was impaled by the smoky scent of wood burning and then the distinct aroma of Texas barbecue.

  “Man, someone sure knows his beef brisket.” She inhaled a second and third whiff, trying to figure out which way to go as her stomach growled to get moving and not stop until she had a plate in her hands.

  “Hold on.” Rory hauled her back toward him. “Darlin’, make no mistake. I’ve got some rope, just like I promised. Not too early to whip it out and demonstrate my tie-down skills.”

  She gasped and squeezed his forearm. “McLemore, take this as fair warning: I’m starving. Don’t try to get in between me and my lunch-slash-dinner.”

  His playful expression dissipated. “I offered to take you to lunch., Those protein bars, sodas and Cheetos you scarf down aren’t a substitute for a meal.”

  “Food on the run. It stores well in my car.” She side-glanced him without commenting on why she did that.

  Lately, her mom had taken to cleaning the kitchen. Deep cleaning and spur of the moment. Twice since June, Rae had gotten it into her head to clean out the fridge and cabinets on a whim. Sommer had arrived home, discovering all the food even the salt and pepper where tossed out. Rory had seen similar instances of this hyper state where Momma had acted on illogical ideas, not that she relayed her mom’s newfound kitchen fixation.

  But he’d gotten an eyeful of Sommer’s stash. Junk food she bought in bulk, stored in her trunk. She told him it was convenient, not the truth that it was cheap. Not what she preferred but it filled in the gaps when her funds were low and extreme budgeting required creative meals.

  “Point taken,” he said softly, stretching out his arm, pointing across the lot. “Over there. You usually like Jake’s jerk brisket.”

  “Where?” She swung around but couldn’t focus on finding a target. Smoke wafted and kicked up her hunger pangs into overdrive. Mix Cajun and Texas barbecue together, and she was in heaven. “I can’t see from down here. I need stilts or a ladder.”

  “But I don’t.” Rory took her by the hand and began to weave through the crowd. “This way,” he cajoled, and she mutely followed.

  “Gosh, it smells so good,” she groaned, pressing her forehead against his back, trailing blindly after him. She stopped when he stopped, peeking around Rory’s arm to meet Jake’s smiling face.

  “Well, how-do! What’ll you have?”

  Sommer felt giddy and lightheaded as she pointed to the grill. “One of everything.”

  “Girl, them eyes of yours are way bigger than your stomach.” Jake chuckled. “Better start slow. Ribs,
chicken, brisket, pulled pork?”

  Rory nodded his head, drawing her to him. “Make it brisket, slaw, mac-n-cheese, dirty rice, and a Bud. Times two.”

  She shifted from foot to foot as her stomach rumbled and her mouth watered. Rory passed her a beer, she chugged half. Her belly promptly rebelled, twisting and gurgling loudly. She held the cold can to her forehead and after a few seconds, the world didn’t seem so sharp-edged.

  She sighed, “Thanks. I’m so hungry I forgot my manners.” She tapped her beer to his. “Happy Labor Day.”

  “Follow me.” He handed his beer to her and held up their plates.

  Rory led them over to one of the several picnic tables set up under the tall pecan trees that overlooked the makeshift stage. Lights were strung around the parking lot, unlit since it was a little ways before sunset. The evening breeze wafted all around them, rustling the branches and in turn, the leaves shimmered. She smiled and nodded to several people who greeted them.

  Red and white checkerboard tablecloths covered the tables and citronella candles were already lit, the flames flickering in the wind. She sat down and immediately unfolded her napkin with her fingers that trembled from hunger and the beer buzz.

  The first bite of brisket melted in her mouth. She ate bite after bite without stopping for several minutes. “Oh God, this is so amazing,” she finally moaned, coming up for air.

  “No argument there. Question is, why do I get the impression you didn’t eat anything since last night?” Rory said between bites.

  With her mouth full, she chewed then washed down her food with the last of her beer. “We both have been super busy. Besides, you know Momma isn’t the type to worry about food.”

  “No. I don’t suspect,” he answered, then passed her his beer. “You want another?”

  She cut the last of her brisket and shook her head. “Not right this second. I better pace myself.”

  “You got plans tonight?” He laughed, pulling her close.

  “Uh huh. There’s strawberry cake,” she whispered, and smiled up at him, wiping her fingers before running them along his jaw. Now with one hunger sated, she enjoyed the feel of the sandpaper stubble on his face, prickly against her fingers. Returning her stare, he kissed her fingers, biting lightly on the tip of her thumb.

  The light in his blue eyes reminded her of the sky just beyond his head. Boundless and intoxicating, but if one went far enough up, the sky turned dark. What about Rory? She couldn’t shake the sentiment behind her mom’s words that made marriage seem like an archaic form of ownership. Maybe that’s why it was easier to focus on the physicality of the moment instead of being scared witless by a hundred what-ifs. His penetrating gaze. The gritty scrape of his beard stubble. Her fascination with having him inside her, instead of diving into marriage. Right here and now: dinner. Later another round of physical firsts.

  “McLemore,” she moaned.

  “Should’ve known I’d get outgunned by sweets.” He grinned and wound his arm around her in an embrace that fed her longing. His fingers were warm points on her skin at the nape of her neck and in seconds had the power to melt all her worries from the inside out.

  “Oh cowboy, you’re not outgunned. Never,” she said, licking her lips and looking up at him. He stole her breath, and if she wasn’t careful, her mother’s muddled perception of their future would taint her vision.

  Rory’s handsome face tensed and his brows drew together. She glanced over to her side and beyond, wondering what he was contemplating. There were people on the stages, setting up, and then she noticed Drew.

  She turned in Rory’s arms, pushing back her plate. He was done eating as well. “I’m stuffed. How about a walk?”

  “That sounds mighty inviting.” He released her, but the heat radiating from his body clung to her like a seductive shadow on her skin. Shifting on one of his elbows, Rory lifted his hand, tilting the can of beer to his lips and the hollows of his lean face deepened. Someone struck a power chord on a guitar and her gaze lingered on his profile, even after he lowered the beer can, and crushed it between his hands.

  “Rory, hey dude,” Mike called out and stopped by another table across the way. “You coming? We’re tossing around some pigskin ‘fore the music gets going.”

  Rory pressed his lips into a line and before he said anything, she squeezed his bicep and said, “Go on. You know you want to.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked, his voice even, but his eyes searched hers.

  “Coming over to the field. Might take a couple of photographs. A few of you if you take off your shirt. I wasn’t joking about promotions for my craft. I need business, same as Evermore.”

  “Me shirtless isn’t going to do it. Your tattoos are works of art and should be shot close-up.” Glancing away, Rory jutted his chin to Mike. “Meet you over there.”

  She was about to sass him, but he stood and cupped her elbow, pulling her up beside him, and waiting for her to step over the redwood bench. Snug against him, her flippant retort dissolved.

  “Feel a whole lot better now. But I’m still longing for something sweet,” she reminded him.

  “Me too.” He bent down, pressing a fleeting kiss to her mouth. Afterwards, he scooped up their plates while she gathered whatever else remained. Hand in hand they walked over to the open field and the sounds of male whooping and grunts grew louder as they approached. Guys were showing off who could outdistance each other by laying out long, spiraling passes. As the footballs zoomed through the air, they looked more like torpedoes than friendly throws.

  “Be careful,” she muttered when one guy missed his catch and the ball smacked into another guy walking across the grass. He faked the fall, laughing when he hit the ground; but regardless, Sommer’s heart raced. In high school, Rory had played football, but wasn’t all hyped up and into the sport. He’d also been involved in rodeo competitions, which is why she could damn well imagine that when he teased about tying her down, he wasn’t all talk.

  He grabbed the back of his T-shirt and pulled the collar over his head, unsheathing his gaunt abs with an army of crisscrossing muscles that ran from one side of his torso to the other. “Hold this for me, darlin’.”

  She let go a slow wolf-whistle. “Looking good. Who needs strawberry cake?” Taking his shirt, she slipped it over her arm, inhaling the enticing clean masculine scent of him that permeated the air in front of her nose.

  “Just thinking the same thing,” he growled, keeping his eyes on her. “Give me some sugar.”

  Gracious. Hard to remember that they were standing in public when her hands swiped across, tracing his happy trail that went from below his navel, over rock-hard abs, and disappeared into his low slung jeans. Beckoning her as if his sexy trail was her own personal invitation to where the wild things were found.

  “Here’s a taste of what’s waiting for you.” She curled her fingers over his forearm and stood poised for him to lower his head. When their lips met, she wanted to open her mouth and feel his tongue thrust and tangle with her own. The short peck he delivered left her wanting much, much more. “I’ll take your hat too,” she said, fighting to keep from sounding breathless.

  “Wear it. It’ll keep the sun out of your beautiful golden eyes.” He removed his hat and placed it on her head, then bowed and whispered in her ear. “I’d love to see you wear my hat again. And nothin’ else.”

  “With pleasure, when I ride you.” She winked at him, then turned and walked down to where the first empty space along the sidelines opened up.

  Lowering onto the grass, she smiled at the two women she recognized next to her. Sisters. Older than her. One of them married, expecting a baby, while the other was divorced with a small child seated on her lap.

  “Hey there,” Sommer greeted them, taking out her cell phone. She glanced at the field, but didn’t see Rory. Leaning forward, she spotted him conversing with Mike. They were standing within a small group of men and she noticed the flash of
green. Cash.

  She wasn’t the only one. The women next to her swore, scoffing that her husband—no, her ex-husband—had better not be laying down cash when he still owed her child support.

  All around, the air sweltered in a steady sharp heat, rebounding up from the ground. The field before her was scorched golden brown. With her belly full, what she’d give to recline and let her eyes drift close. Perspiration drizzled down the sides of her face. Strands of her hair stuck to her temple, forehead, and the back of her neck. She removed Rory’s hat and fanned herself. The women’s conversation devolved into snappy words. Sommer tried to ignore their emotionally charged exchange by scrolling down the text messages she had received recently.

  “Don’t do something you’ll be sorry for,” the pregnant woman said all of a sudden, and Sommer peered upward.

  “Too late,” the other woman replied, jumping up and out of her folding chair. The woman hoisted her toddler onto her hip. “Now, I’m just taking care of business.” The little girl looked confused in her momma’s arms.

  Why not? Hadn’t she been in that position—a pawn, to be used as a way to carve out guilt from a misbehaving spouse? She inhaled and exchanged a glance with the woman who remained seated. Heaven help that little girl, Sommer thought. This wasn’t going to end without someone screaming.

  “She’s just upset,” the other woman offered. “Her ex is unruly.”

  “Must be hard on everyone, especially a small child,” Sommer replied, not saying more when her cell phone chimed next to her leg.

  Ivy texted her. Where are you?

  On the field. R U here? At the Diamond.

  Yep. I C you!!!

  She waved Rory’s hat at Ivy who was walking down the side of the field, wearing a skirt, boots and a tank top. “Hey-hey,” Sommer said. “Looks like you got some rest.”

  “A little.” Ivy laughed, but didn’t comment further. Her friend plunked down next to her on the grass, and unfurled her long legs, crossing them at the ankles and leaned back on her arms.

  Ivy was drop-dead gorgeous with her Greek ancestry, giving the term dark-eyed beauty a whole new makeover. She was tall with a long slender waist, long legs, long everything. Only recently had she just gotten her hair cut, and that would have been a crime, except that now she looked killer-hot with shoulder length, layered hair framing her square jaw. The style managed to draw attention to the slight cleft teasing her chin, in the best possible way.