Tough Love: Back to Buckhorn
Page 21
And the devastation.
Fuck ’em all. What had been stolen from him, he didn’t need. Or so he told himself. Often. Until recently he’d made it so, and he’d been happy with his life.
Okay, maybe “happy” was a stretch, but he’d been content. He’d made it work. He lived by his own rules and ignored the restrictions.
Until the SBC had insisted on signing him on, meaning more exposure...to everyone.
His past would get dredged up in a big way. Cannon claimed it was time. He knew Cannon would stand beside him. All the guys would. But needing them for this, for anything, made him feel pathetic, and he’d done his utmost to leave that shit behind.
When a sudden burst of laughter came from the showers, Armie realized he hadn’t been listening to the ladies after all. He’d gotten lost in thought, and damn it, he’d missed the joke.
“You changed your hair.”
Startled by the husky timbre of that familiar voice, he slowly turned his head. Backlit by the fluorescent lights of the main room, Merissa Colter stood there in the long hallway. Silky ebony hair trailed over her shoulders all the way to her tiny waist. His attention went to her cleavage. She usually wore crew neck tops, but now, tonight, her sweater dipped low enough to make his mouth go dry.
“Yeah.” Who knew a small change with his hair would get so much attention?
“Why?”
He shrugged. Just because he felt like he had to control something, even something as dumb as his outward appearance...no reason to share that with her.
He focused on her cleavage instead of his warped issues. Her tan top fell to mid hip, leading his gaze to her endlessly long legs hugged in skinny jeans that showed off every subtle curve. His nostrils flared with a breath.
Her height almost equaled her brother’s, so she seldom wore heels. But her boots tonight lifted her an inch, maybe two, meaning their mouths would be perfectly aligned...
“Armie?” She shifted, arms crossing under her breasts and one hip jutting out. “You’re making me feel naked.”
Shit. “Don’t put ideas in my head, Stretch.” He had enough of them in there already—and they always made him feel guilty. Pushing off the wall, he took one step toward her. “So, what’s up?”
She and Cannon shared the same light blue eyes, but on Cannon they were just there. On Merissa... Jesus. The impact of those eyes staring into his made his balls tighten.
“For one second,” she said, “you managed to treat me like other women. Should have known it wouldn’t last.” She brushed past him, put her back to the wall, and slid down to her curvy little ass.
Confused by her presence but craving it all the same, Armie stood over her; it was safer than joining her on the floor. “You know me. Why in God’s name would you want me to treat you the way I treat other women?”
From the showers, Vanity yelled, “I like how you treat me.”
Rolling his eyes, Armie yelled back, “Concentrate on your shower, Vee.”
A giggle, and then Cherry added, “That overhearing thing goes both ways, just so you know.”
Merissa put her face in her hands.
“Busybodies!” Taking the wall across from her, Armie joined her on the floor. She looked so bleak, he stretched out his legs, letting his feet go on either side of hers. Keeping his voice lower, he asked, “What’s the matter?”
She dropped her hands and, looking mean, narrowed her gaze at him. “Not a thing. I’m here to babysit you. Again.”
“The night of the wedding was bullshit. I was fine and everyone knows it.” Mostly fine, anyway. “You sent me home in a cab?”
Her thick lashes half lowered. “No. I drove you and your truck home, then I called a cab for me.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I saw your message on my window.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember any of it.”
Nudging her foot with his, he said, “I didn’t do anything to offend you, did I?”
“You mostly ignored me.”
Well...good. “So, what’s the reason you’re here now?”
“Apparently the men don’t trust the nefarious Armie Jacobson near their girlfriends.”
“Then that’s bullshit, too. They trust me. They just know their own minds would be rolling ’round in the gutter, and they figure you’d be a distraction to keep mine from doing the same.”
Interest sparked in her eyes. “And am I?”
“A distraction?” Always. Even when she wasn’t around. Most especially at night when he tried to sleep, when substitute women didn’t measure up, when... Shit. “We’re jawing, aren’t we?”
For too long, maybe drawing wrong conclusions, she studied him. “If Cannon hadn’t sent me, would you be thinking...things? I mean, about them naked and—”
“There you go again,” he answered softly, mesmerized by her curiosity as always. “Putting thoughts in my head.”
This time her foot nudged his. “I’m serious.”
Should he tell her the truth? That instead of thinking about a gaggle of gorgeous women naked in the shower, he’d taken a melancholy stroll down memory lane? Fuck that.
“I was just thinking.” He let his head drop back against the concrete block wall. “But not about them.”
She nodded. “Good.” Drawing back, she stammered, “I mean, the guys would be glad to hear that.”
Don’t do it, don’t do it— “And you?” Shut up, Armie. But for some reason, he couldn’t. Maybe because he’d be entering the SBC instead of smaller local venues. Maybe because, as Cannon had insisted, it was time. Past time.
Maybe because he was tired of being a fraud.
He let his foot rest against hers, watched her eyes flare over the simple touch, and couldn’t help wondering about touching her in better, hotter ways. “What would you say if I told you I was thinking about them?”
Focused on their feet, she didn’t answer.
That amused him. Sweet, innocent Rissy. His best friend’s baby sis.
His kinkiest fantasy—and that said a lot, because if there was one thing Armie knew, it was kink.
She also starred in other fantasies, those that were less sexual and more...emotional. Heavier. Sweeter.
More real.
Heart beating harder, he prompted her again. “Rissy?”
Her gaze shot up to lock on his. A deep inhale drew his attention to her breasts. Her lips parted. “I—”
Clustered together in a gossipy group, the ladies stepped into the hall. Vanity, who’d been looking at Cherry as she spoke, tripped over Armie’s outstretched legs before he could withdraw them.
Yelping, on her way to meeting the floor, Vee threw out her arms. Acting on instinct, Armie rolled under her and managed to break her fall.
She landed awkwardly against his chest, her boobs in his face, one of his hands on her ass.
Yvette and Cherry fell into each other laughing.
Straightening, Vanity joined them.
Armie readjusted his hold, and when she remained sitting on his thighs, he squeezed her. “Brat. My hands were in forbidden territory. Stack’s going to murder me.”
“My fault,” Vanity said around her continued hilarity. “Stack will be glad I didn’t break my nose.”
“It was my fault for occupying the hallway.” He looked to Merissa—and realized she’d left. He swiveled his head in time to see her backside turn the corner and disappear.
Well, damn.
Vanity cupped his cheek. “You’re getting smarter, Armie. Don’t disillusion me, okay?”
He didn’t like the way she said that. “Meaning what?”
“Meaning I consider you kind as well as sexual.” Her pat to his cheek was a little harder than necessary. “You deserve it all.”
He was still lying there, his frown so fierce it made his temples throb, when all three ladies walked off, their heads together as they whispered.
About him.
Vee had it wrong. Merissa was the one who deserved it all.
Unfortunately, he probably wouldn’t be the one to give it to her.
* * *
NEVER BEFORE HAD the locker room smelled of flowers, but after the women left it, the scents of feminine lotion and perfume had lingered.
And exacerbated Stack’s lust.
By the time he reached Vanity’s house, anticipation had him semi-erect. With winter rolling in, the evening air had a definite nip to it, but it didn’t help cool him down. Nothing would, except sex with Vanity.
Tonight she had plenty of outside lights on, and she’d parked her car in the garage.
He went up the walkway, each step ramping up his urgency.
Twice he reminded himself that he couldn’t just rush her off to bed. She deserved better than that.
She deserved more than her original bargain, and so did he.
He’d been at the rec center longer than her, but she’d remained there with him right through dinnertime. He should have offered to take her to dinner. Soon, he would. But not tonight.
The dogs would want to visit. Desperate as he was to have Vanity again, he couldn’t disregard Maggie and Norwood.
His forearm provided a nonstop ache. He should ice it again, and he would, later. Until then, he wouldn’t let it slow him down.
Was Vanity tired after her workout and then the self-defense class? If so, she’d done a good job hiding it. While some women finished up their workouts looking exhausted, Vanity had emerged from the showers all smiles and laughter, and so damned beautiful.
Her energy level astounded him and turned him on. But then she could do nothing at all, and he wanted her. Especially now that he’d gotten a small taste of her.
And thinking of tasting her... Damn. There was a lot he wanted to do, all of it making the restriction in his jeans more noticeable.
He reached the front door, raised his hand to knock—and a shadow shifted in the side yard.
No fucking way would he get caught off guard twice. Senses sharpened, he silently stepped to the side of her porch. He heard movement, and then saw a deer bolt off. The white tail disappeared into the darkness. With a sense of unease still prickling the back of his neck, he continued to search the area.
Behind him the front door opened. “Stack?”
He turned back to Vanity and mentally reeled.
Her pale hair reflected the glow of the porch light. A pink, long-sleeved tee fit snug to her breasts, the hem not quite reaching the waistband of the soft flannel pants hanging low on her narrow hips. He saw a tantalizing strip of belly in between, and it made him burn.
In her eyes, he saw the same urgency he felt.
Breathing fast, her gaze devouring him, she held out a hand.
Stack made himself stand still. “Where are the dogs?”
“Waiting to say hi.”
“I don’t want to rush you.”
“How about you let me do the rushing?”
That did it. He could fight himself, but he couldn’t fight them both. He took her hand, used it to drag her out to the porch, then backed her up to the wall and kissed her. The door fell shut behind her.
Everything he’d just told himself faded away. Vanity clutched at him, squeezing him tighter to her, hooking one calf around his.
Scooping his hand under her bottom, he aligned their bodies so that his straining erection nestled against the warm junction of her thighs.
Her faint gasp spurred him on.
Cold air whispered around them, but he barely felt it. Her lips softened, opened; he turned his head, licked in, stroked deep. Devoured.
Their breaths labored, fogging the air around them. She moved against him, needy, ready. He felt explosive.
When the dogs scratched at the door, Stack forced himself to come up for air. “Damn, I need you,” he growled.
“Need you more,” she whispered, her hands knotted in his shirt. She nipped his chin, his jaw, made her way to his throat and opened her mouth against his skin.
Fuck. His guts tightened, his muscles clenching. Hand still on her ass, he lifted and rocked her against him.
A gust of icy wind drifted her hair against his forearm.
Hadn’t he just thought about how cold it was now? And here he had her out on the porch wearing only socks, flannel pants and a long-sleeved tee. “I’m sorry.”
Brushing her nose over his throat, she asked, “For?”
He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “It’s cold out here.”
Meeting his gaze, she took his hand and pressed it low to her belly. “It’s hot enough inside that it doesn’t matter.”
He had to kiss her again and did. But this time he kept enough sense not to get carried away. Tucking her hair back, he asked, “You hungry?”
She purred. “Starving.”
That made him smile. “For food, darlin’.”
Her hand repeatedly smoothed over his shoulder. “Maybe just a little.”
“Then how about we get some food together and give the dogs a chance to calm down.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Then you’re mine for the rest of the night.”
Another purr and a murmured, “Love that plan.” Again she took his hand, turned and led him inside.
Even while kneeling down to greet the dogs, he watched her sexy walk as she headed to the kitchen. Didn’t matter what she fixed. He planned to inhale it.
Then he planned to have her for dessert.
* * *
HUNKERED IN THE SHADOWS, heart still tripping, Phil waited until he was dead-sure they were inside, and that they’d stay there.
If that damned deer hadn’t startled him, he wouldn’t have made a noise. But once he did, he’d known—just known—that Stack was going to kill him. And it wouldn’t be a quick death. No, Stack would probably enjoy pulverizing him one punch or kick at a time.
He still couldn’t believe the thugs had been so easily stopped. Not that it mattered. They didn’t know who he was. And they had served their purpose—to keep Stack occupied so he could approach Vanity alone.
That hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped. She might be hot as hell, but she wasn’t a pushover. Not completely, anyway. Still, he’d scored some cash. It was a start.
Getting to her now would be trickier. But not impossible. Sucked that he had to sneak around, but the payoff would be worth it.
Sticking to the shadows, in a half-crouching run, Phil got as far from the danger as he could. The pills he’d taken earlier were wearing off. He was no longer as mellow as he needed to be.
Yeah, when Stack had heard the noise, Phil’s damned heart had punched into his throat, obliterating his calm. But he’d liked seeing how quick Vanity turned on. She’d all but melted on Stack the minute the bastard touched her. Tabby used to melt for him like that.
Stack was the one who ruined everything, so he owed him. Since his new lady was rolling in it, she could even Stack’s debt—with cold, hard cash.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VANITY WANTED TO rush through the meal, but Stack wouldn’t.
She wanted to tidy up the dishes herself, but he insisted on helping.
Obstinate. Considerate.
Wonderful.
“You look good in boots.”
His hands, covered in soapsuds, paused while cleaning the frying pan. In slo-mo, he turned his head to stare at her. “Come again?”
He snorted and went back to cleaning the pan. “You don’t have to butter me up. Believe me, I’m ready.”
He didn’t act ready. He acted like patience personified. “I’m serious.” She strode up to him, reached her arms around his waist, and dropped the dishrag back into the sink. And now that she was flattened up against him, she hugged him tight.
He went still, his hands again suspended in soapy water.
From the corner of the kitchen, Norwood opened one eye to look at them, then let out a doggy huff and went back to sleep curled up by Maggie.
“I’ll be done in two minutes.”
“Mmm.” She slipped her hands up under his flannel and T-shirt. “I’ll just entertain myself until then.”
“You’re distracting me, and I wanted to talk.”
Right. He was going to explain about his arm. She slid away from him, took the pan and turned off the water. After setting the pan in the dish drainer, she took his hand in one of hers, then gently touched his forearm.
“Vanity?”
“Hmm?”
“What are you doing?”
She looked up at him. It was something of a thrill that he stood so tall. And she hadn’t lied about his wardrobe preferences. She liked his laid-back cowboy vibe, minus a hat. His long muscular legs looked great in jeans and boots. His narrow hips and flat abs made everything look good. And his chest, his shoulders—
A finger under her chin lifted her face. “Vanity?”
“I wanted to check your boo-boo.”
Incredulous, he lifted a brow and said deadpan, “My boo-boo?”
“This.” She brushed her cheek against his forearm, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. The bruises had already darkened, looking ugly and painful. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
She knew he had to be fibbing. “You were going to tell me what happened.”
“No, I was going to ask you why you always insist looks don’t matter.”