When Things Got Hot in Texas

by Lori Wilde

  She laughed as she reined in the horse. “I won by a nose. And as the victor, I should get the spoils.”

  Mason swung down from Ghost Rider and looped the reins to the porch railing. “And exactly what did you have in mind?” He took her reins and tied Jinx before reaching for her.

  Once she was in his arms, she wrapped her hands around his neck. “I want you to stop treating me like I’m breakable. In case you haven’t figured it out, I’m tough, Mason. I can handle things getting a little rough. In fact, I like it.”

  His eyes turned dark and smoldering. Without a word, he swept her up in his arms and carried her into the house. He laid her on the brass bed, then pulled her t-shirt over her head. He walked to the closet, and when he came back he carried two silk ties. He sat next to her on the bed and studied her with those dark, penetrating eyes.

  “Are you sure?” he asked in a low whisper that sent shivers of excitement down her spine. She nodded, but that wasn’t good enough. “Say it, Rebecca. Tell me what you want.”

  She swallowed. “I want you to tie me up.”

  Their gazes locked as he took her hands and expertly looped one of the ties around her wrists. Once they were lashed together, he lifted them over her head and tied them to the brass headboard. He tightened it with a hard yank that caused her to jump. He tipped his head. “Whenever you want me to stop, I will. Do you want me to stop?”

  She shook her head, then remembered that she needed to answer. “No. I trust you.” It was the truth. She did trust him. More than she’d ever trusted a man before.

  He nodded before he took the other tie and tied it over her eyes. When it was tight, he brushed a kiss on her lips. A few seconds later, she heard a boot clunk to the floor, then the other. The mattress shifted as he got up, and she heard snaps pop and the sound of clothes being discarded. Her boots were lifted and tugged off. She felt a brush of his warm fingers on her calves as he slipped her socks down. She thought her jeans would be harder to take off, but Mason proved to be an expert at removing women’s clothing. Once he had the button open and the zipper down, he issued an order.

  “Hold tight to the tie and lift your hips.” As soon as she did, he pulled the jeans off.

  A long stretch of silence ensued, and she could picture him standing naked at the foot of the bed looking at her. Desire washed over her in waves. The waves swelled when the mattress dipped and his warm, muscled body settled next to her. His fingertips trailed along the sensitive underside of her arm until he reached the strap of her bra. He followed it down, and his hand encompassed her breast in a gentle squeeze before he roughly tugged down the lacy cup. He did the same to the other cup until both breasts were exposed and pushed up by the lace and underwire.

  His breath fell heavy against her ear. “You want it rough, Rebecca?” When she only moaned, he leaned closer. “Say it.”

  “Yes.” The word came out on a croak of desire and ended on a surprised moan when he pinched her nipple hard.

  It hurt, but it was a good hurt. He followed it up with a deep, suckling kiss. He repeated the process again and again until both nipples were wonderfully abused and mind-blowingly aroused. Her hips undulated against the mattress, and she wondered if she could reach orgasm from just having her breasts touched.

  But before she could find out the answer to that question, his hand moved down her body. Her stomach muscles quivered as his hot fingers dipped beneath her panties. He separated the folds and gently stroked her swollen clitoris. Once. Twice. Three times. Then he pinched her. That was all it took to send her over the edge of an amazing climax.

  Before the tremors had completely stopped, he had her panties off and a pillow under her hips. This time he held nothing back. He knelt between her legs and entered her with a hard thrust. His growl of pleasure had desire swelling in her once again, and she lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts until they both broke through to a climax. They came together in a groan of shared satisfaction. He ended up sprawled on top of her, his heavy weight pressing her into the mattress. But she didn’t mind. If her hands had been free, she would’ve held him closer.

  He finally lifted his head and removed her blindfold. She blinked him into focus to find more than a little concern in his beautiful brown eyes. “Are you okay?”

  She gave him a sassy look. “From a few pinches? You’re going to have to get rougher than that to scare this girl off.” She nipped at his shoulder. “Now feed me, Honey Bee. Your queen is starving!”

  They ate turkey and provolone sandwiches in bed. It seemed so wicked to be completely naked in broad daylight with Mason sprawled at the foot of the bed, alternating bites of his sandwich with nibbles on her toes.

  “So who’s your favorite Tender Heart character?” she asked between bites. “I’m guessing the gunslinger Dax Davenport.”

  He wiggled his dark eyebrows. “Because I’m such a villain.” He nipped at her instep until she giggled. He didn’t laugh, but there was a sparkle of happiness in his eyes. “I don’t know if I could pick one favorite. I liked Rory for his cool head. Duke for his tenacity. The youngest Arrington, Johnny, for his wit and charm. He certainly charmed feisty Daisy.” He glanced at her. “I’m assuming Daisy McNeil is your favorite.”

  She finished off the last of her sandwich. He had remembered the sour pickles and mustard that she liked. The man paid attention to the details. “I like Daisy, but she isn’t my favorite. My favorite is Valentine Clemens.”

  He halted with her foot halfway to his mouth. “The prostitute?”

  “She was not a prostitute. She was a saloon girl.”

  “What do you think a saloon girl did? Your aunt even called her a soiled dove.”

  She couldn’t help defending her favorite character. “Well, she wasn’t a prostitute after she came to Tender Heart. She was the one who organized the women and made sure the men didn’t take advantage of them before they were lawfully wed. And she made Lance Butler fall in love with her.”

  The smile left Mason’s eyes. “You can’t make a person love you. They either do or they don’t.”

  Hoping to bring back the sparkle of happiness, she teased, “Maybe I’ll prove you wrong.”

  A dark cloud came over his features. “That’s not going to happen, Rebecca. I don’t do love.”

  “What do you mean? Of course you do love. Everyone loves someone and is loved by someone.” She paused. “I don’t mean me and you . . . but someone.”

  He dropped her foot and sat up, setting the rest of his sandwich on the nightstand. “We better go.”

  He started to stand, but she couldn’t let him leave on such a sad note. She didn’t know what his mother had done to him to make him feel like love wasn’t an option for him. All she knew was that he needed a good hug. And that’s exactly what she gave him. She wrapped herself around him from behind, hooking her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. Then she pressed her cheek to his back and squeezed. There was a moment when she thought he was going to fight her. Instead, he just sat there as if he were stunned. And that broke her heart even more.

  They stayed that way until a car door slammed out front. It was followed by a booming voice she immediately recognized.

  “Rebecca Elizabeth Arrington!”

  “Holy crap!” She scrambled off the bed. “It’s my daddy.”

  “Shit.” Mason jumped up and grabbed her clothes, tossing them to her before he searched for his own. A pounding on the front door made her move even faster. But her hands were shaking so badly, she couldn’t get her bra hooked. When Mason finished dressing, he came over and helped her.

  “Deep breath,” he said as he hooked her bra. “We’ll just tell him we went out riding and stopped here for lunch.”

  She nodded. “Okay, but if he doesn’t believe you, run for the hills. My daddy has a mean right hook. . . and a Smith & Wesson.”

  But as it turned out, her father was too intent on yelling at her to pay much attention to Mason.

  “What
the hell do you think you’re doing, little girl?” His face was red beneath the brim of his Stetson. He looked just like her brother—tall, handsome, and blond, but with a little silver at the temples. “When Zane is gone from the ranch, it’s your responsibility to be there in case of a problem. Not gallivanting all over the countryside. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you with the job. You’re still too young and flighty.”

  Becky was about to argue the point when Mason stepped up.

  “I respectfully disagree, sir. Becky is one of the best ranch mangers I’ve ever seen—male or female. Except for a brief time today, she’s been working non-stop while Zane’s been gone and doing a damned good job.”

  Becky was completely blindsided. No one had ever stood up for her with her daddy. Not her mama. Not Zane. Not any of her boyfriends. People didn’t go against Dale Arrington. But Mason had. And he’d done it for her. At that moment, she did something really stupid.

  She fell in love.

  “‘She’s leaving,’ Etta Jenkins said. ‘And you can’t let her go. Of all the women, Valentine is the one who will make the best wife.’ It was funny, but Lance had been thinking the same thing.”

  Chapter 13

  Mason didn’t stay at the Arrington’s ranch house that night. He went back to his place and spent a sleepless night thinking about Becky. The worst possible thing had happened: She had fallen in love with him. She hadn’t told him, but he didn’t need words to know the truth. It was there in her eyes when they rode back to Earhart Ranch. Every time he glanced over, he saw a tenderness that made his chest feel like it was being squeezed in a vise.

  He had come to Bliss looking for Tender Heart. And he had found it in a feisty woman with eyes the color of twilight and a heart the size of Texas. Becky was the personification of the series. Inside her was the wild and untamed spirit of the Earharts and the single-minded determination of the mail-order brides. She was a free spirit who believed she could accomplish all her dreams and find her happily-ever-after. And Mason believed that she would. But not with him. Not with someone who was so jaded and lost. She needed someone as innocent as she was. Someone who still believed in love.

  Unfortunately, once Becky set her sights on something, she didn’t give up easily. The Reed property was a perfect example. She still hadn’t given up on buying it. And now that she’d set her sights on Mason, he didn’t doubt that she would do everything in her power to get him and the ranch too. Which was why he had no choice but to leave Bliss. Once he was gone, she would forget about him and move on. She would find another Honey Bee who deserved her love.

  He finally fell asleep as the light of dawn crept through the window. When he woke, it was late afternoon. He got up and fixed himself something to eat, then showered, dressed, and parked. He had just zipped his suitcase when he heard the whinny of a horse. Only a few seconds later, the front door opened and boot heels clicked against the floor. He recognized the determined stride immediately and wasn’t surprised when Becky appeared in the doorway.

  She wore her customary cowboy hat, t-shirt, jeans, and boots. Her hair hung in a tangle around her shoulders as if she’d ridden hard to get to him. She lifted the cat she carried in her arms. “I found Furball on the porch. He must’ve followed you back here.” Her eyes landed on the open suitcase on the bed before piercing him with heartbreaking blue. “You’re leaving.”

  He reached out as if to scratch the cat, but let his hand drop. “I need to get back to Austin.”

  She cradled the cat closer as tears shimmered in her eyes. Tears that made Mason feel as if he were suffocating. “Don’t lie. You don’t need to get back to Austin. You’re leaving because I broke the rules.” She swallowed hard. “You’re leaving because I fell in love with you.”

  Hearing the words from her lips was a mixture of heaven and hell. They eased an ache down deep inside, and at the same time created a new one. This new one was much deeper than the last. It was a struggle not to pull her into his arms and try to find relief from the pain. Instead, he tightened his hands into fists.

  “I’m the one who broke the rules, Rebecca. I knew you didn’t know how to play my game, and yet I made love to you anyway.”

  She stared at him. “Made love? I thought it was just sex.”

  He hadn’t realized the slip until she pointed it out. Now, it was too late to deny it. “Not with you,” he said. “It wasn’t just sex with you.”

  She blinked back the tears. “But you’re still leaving.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he answered it anyway. “You don’t want someone as screwed up as I am. You want someone without all my baggage.”

  The tears dried up as quickly as they had appeared. Suddenly, she was the feisty Becky he’d first met. “Don’t you dare tell me what I want, Mason Granger! Or what I need. I have enough people trying to control my life. My mama thinks I need a husband to tame my wild ways. My daddy thinks I need to remain his little girl forever. And my brother thinks I need to run the ranch his way. Well, I don’t need any of those things. I want to own my own ranch with a man who treats me like a woman and an equal. I don’t give a damn what kind of baggage he has. Baggage is something you choose to carry with you. If you’re tired of carrying it, all you have to do is let it go.”

  He smiled sadly. “Unless you can’t.”

  She stared at him for what felt like forever. It was easy to read the disappointment in her eyes. A disappointment that made him feel gutted. “I should’ve learned from Lucy,” she said in quavering voice. “I should’ve learned never to fall in love with a Honey Bee. Because while they can make sweet honey, they can never stay.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. “Goodbye, Mason.” She walked out with the cat still cradled in her arms.

  He waited for the front door to slam before he whispered. “Goodbye, Rebecca.”

  Once she was gone, he got his briefcase and pulled out the deed to the ranch. It didn’t take long to sign it over to Becky. He realized that he was trying to assuage his guilt. But he also truly believed that the ranch should belong to someone who understood the history. He left the deed and the keys to the front door in the center of the bed before he packed his Range Rover. He placed his mother’s urn next to him in the front seat. Becky was right. He needed to let go of some baggage.

  The field in front of the little white chapel looked as wilted as Mason felt, and he wasted no time opening the urn and pouring out his mother’s ashes. There was no wind to catch them. They settled into the sun-parched ground like tiny gray feathers. He stared down at them and tried to come up with a prayer. But all that came to him was a wish. The same wish he’d had all his life.

  “Be happy, Mother.”

  He started back to his car, but stopped when he saw Ms. Marble standing just inside the line of trees. She wore her usual floral dress, wide-brimmed bonnet, and white gloves. She carried a bouquet of pink roses. He didn’t doubt that she’d watched him pour out his mother’s ashes. Her eagle eyes were pinned on the urn he held under one arm. Although she didn’t say anything about it.

  “Walk me around to the cemetery,” she said. “I’m worried I’m going to break an ankle with all these gopher holes.” He took her arm and allowed her to lead him. On the way passed the spot where he’d spread his mother’s ashes, she pulled out a pink rose from the dozen in her arms and leaned down to place it on the ground. He had to fight back the tears that threatened.

  “She loved pink.”

  “A lot of women do,” Ms. Marble said as they continued to a worn path that wound around the church. “I never much cared for it myself. But it was Lucy’s favorite color.”

  He glanced down at the flowers. “Those are for Lucy Arrington? Her grave site is here?”

  She glanced at him with surprise. “I didn’t take you for a Tender Heart fan.”

  “My mom used to read the books to me when I was a kid. It’s the only time I ever remember her showing any genuine emotion. She’d laugh and cry right along with the
characters.” He paused. “I guess that’s why I thought she might find happiness here. She certainly didn’t find it while she was living.”

  Ms. Marble didn’t say anything until they reached the small cemetery beneath a stand of huge oak trees. She stopped at the gate and turned to him. “And what about you? Have you found happiness?”

  He didn’t have to search too hard for the answer. He had found happiness. He’d found it with Becky. But just because he’d found it didn’t mean he could hold onto it. His mother had found happiness with each of the men she’d married, but it had never lasted. And his stepfathers had become the casualties in her quest for love. Mason wasn’t willing for Becky to be one of his.

  He opened the gate and held it for Ms. Marble. “Maybe I’m like my mother. Maybe I won’t ever find enduring happiness.”

  Ms. Marble snorted. “That’s bullshit.” The word surprised him. “Happiness doesn’t elude people. People elude happiness. I should know. I thought I could only truly be happy with one man. And when he died, I thought that was the end of my happiness. I was so convinced of this that I wasted years withholding love from my dear David.” She poked him in the chest with a gloved finger. “Don’t make the same mistake I made.”

  She walked past him into the cemetery. He followed more slowly. Was she right? Was his fear of being like his mother causing him to make a huge mistake? He was still mulling over the question when he found Ms. Marble placing the roses on a gravestone shaped like an open book. Tears were in her eyes as she straightened and stared at the name engraved in the stone.

  “Even though we were three years apart, Lucy and I were good friends. My daddy was the foreman of the Arrington Ranch, and as little girls, we used to come here to the chapel and play. We would use the lacy doilies her grandmother crocheted as veils and pick flowers from the fields for our bouquets.” She smiled as she looked down at the gravestone. “Of course, Lucy was always the more imaginative. While I just had an ordinary cowboy as a groom, Lucy’s groom would be a Persian prince or a Russian Cossack. She dreamed of going to all those exotic places.”