She stopped in her tracks when she saw Judd Black peering at her from beneath that black hat.
Great.
She gestured to her car. “I had a bit of an accident."
He looked over the wreckage then slid his narrowed eyes back to hers.
She huffed out a breath, lifting her hands. “Fine. I was stupid and swerved when a fox jumped out in front of my car. That friggin’ crater there ripped my tire off. I know you're probably headin’ home, but could you please give me a ride back to the Range?"
His eyes scanned her face, looking for cuts or bruises.
"I'm fine,” she snapped. “I was wearing my seatbelt. Don't make me beg. I'm really not in the mood."
He jerked his head toward the passenger seat.
She sighed. “Let me lock up."
She locked the car up though it was pretty much pointless. If anyone was stupid enough to steal the piece of junk, they weren't going to get very far. Approaching the truck, she noticed the horse trailer hitched to the back and the black mutt sitting obediently in the bed. She got in and buckled up as he did a careful U-turn. “Thanks,” she muttered though her back teeth clenched when she said it.
He threw her a look. It was a clear what's with you?
She rolled her eyes and glared out the window. “You don't want to know."
Silence rattled between them. Johnny Cash sang about Folsom Prison from the low-tuned speakers. The quiet grated on her nerves until she threw up a hand, snapping. “I'm pissed!"
He glanced at her, brows raised.
"That's what I said,” she told him. “Pissed. PO-ed. Ticked off. Do you know how humiliating it is when everyone in this godforsaken town feels sorry for you? Like you're some starving, unwanted kitten crying in the town square. ‘Oh, look at the poor thing. Let's all point and stare'."
She glared at him though he didn't look amused, thank goodness. Slapping him would've felt really good if he had. He didn't look completely disinterested either so she rambled on. “I hate pity! Why can't they see that I'm fine? The past is the past. You move on and learn from it even if you get dealt a hard blow. I thought the people around here would understand that more than anybody else.” She blew out a hard breath as he pulled into the Range drive, lifting her bangs off her brow. They fell in her eyes and she swiped them out of the way. “I need a real drink."
He reached between the seats, truck coming to a stop in front of the dark house. She watched, bemused, as he pulled out a silver flask. When he held it toward her, she snorted, meeting his eyes which were twinkling with laughter now. “You think this is funny, don't you? You're rolling on the floor laughing."
He lifted his shoulder, pulled off the cap and took a long drink. Watching his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, she licked her lips automatically, feeling a jolt of heat in her center. It spread lower when his gaze latched onto hers.
She gripped the door. She'd never met a man more ... male. An oddity since she'd met so many. But damn him, there was something about Judd Black that snuck under her skin and lit a deadly fire.
She jerked her eyes away from his, dragging in a shaky breath. “God, you have the loudest stare I've ever seen,” she complained. “It's...” Her mouth worked, as she tried to decide. “Disconcerting."
He shrugged again. She was shocked by his nearly sheepish expression. She watched him take another pull from the flask.
"If I asked what's in that, you wouldn't tell me, would you?” She waited for the answer she knew would never come. She sighed and jerked the door latch, pushing it open. She hopped out and leaned back in to grab her purse.
"Whiskey."
She looked up, eyes wide, heart hammering.
God, did he just speak to me?
He was giving her that amused look again. She could only gape at him, tongue-tied. That sexy word had come out of his mouth. Remembering the deep, rusty voice, a sizzle ran through her. She suddenly felt warm all over.
He held out the flask again in invitation.
It took her a moment to lift her hand and close her fingers around it. Her hand brushed his. A teasing shiver ran over the skin of her arm. Finding it hard to breathe, she lifted it to her lips, eyes never leaving his. The whiskey burned her throat, but she savored it. Maybe it would snap her out the stupor he'd put her in.
She lowered the flask, handing it back to him. “TruBlu?” she asked, a bit hoarse.
He smiled at her—a real smile. It was the first time in her memory she'd ever seen him smile at anyone. His teeth were surprisingly white, a severe contrast against his tan face. It was downright electrifying.
Jesus, he was wrapping her around his big damn finger real quick, wasn't he? She shook her head in an attempt to wake herself up. “Thanks for the drink and the ride,” she murmured. “I guess I'll see you around?"
He nodded slowly, still eyeing her.
She smiled shortly and grabbed the door. “Well then. Goodnight.” He continued to gaze at her with that intense look as she shut the door. Backing away, she watched him back out then accelerate down the driveway and out of sight. She breathed a long, shaky sigh and walked on wobbly foal legs to the house.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Six
"Dad's throwing a surprise party for Stella,” Casey commented, finishing off the pizza he'd picked up on his way through town Friday night.
Judd glanced at him. His friend's eyes were on the television where a baseball game was playing. Rangers vs. Diamondbacks. The game dragged on and on. Judd didn't really like baseball, and had never gotten into it. The only sport he enjoyed watching and competing in was bull-riding. Now there was a man's sport.
But Casey had bought the pizza so he had free reign over the remote control. Judd wasn't much of one for television either, but on uneventful Friday nights in Wayback, it was about all the entertainment there was. He didn't like the crowds at the bars and restaurants in town. He didn't like to dance.
He frowned. Wasn't he just a great big ball of fun?
Casey looked at him when the game was interrupted by a commercial. “You hear me?"
Judd nodded, lifting his whiskey to his lips. The ice clinked against the sides of the glass.
Casey smirked. “You ain't foolin’ me, Black."
Judd slanted him a curious look.
"You've had the hots for her since you saw her in that first movie,” Casey said.
Judd rolled his eyes though something in his belly tightened. God, had he been that obvious?
"I know all about your deluxe Stella Ridge DVD collection,” Casey admitted, looking way more cocky than usual.
Judd choked on the whiskey he'd poured down his gullet. He sat up, coughing.
Casey clapped him hard on the back. “Don't worry, man. I think it's kinda sweet."
Judd shoved his hand away and flipped him off simultaneously.
Casey chuckled and leaned back on Judd's couch, smug. “You've even got that little indie film she did a few years ago. The one with the nude scene. Bet there's been a fair few lonely lights you jacked off to that."
Judd swiped a hand out. Casey ducked to avoid getting cuffed hard on the back of the head. “Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me. Here's my advice, though: if you bring her over here, you better hide that one."
This time Judd's fist popped into Casey's cheek. It was only hard enough to snap Casey's head back, but it was enough to stop him in mid-laugh. Satisfied, Judd poured another glass of whiskey, jaw clenched.
"You should ask her out,” Casey suggested, refusing to take a hint.
"You should shut your big, fat mouth,” Judd suggested in the gravelly, neglected voice he hated so much. Like rust on a truck. “You're starting to talk like that bastard brother of yours."
"Don't hurt my feelings, sweetheart,” Casey quipped. He turned up the volume when the commercials ended. “But seriously, ask her out."
Judd mulled over it for a moment, glaring at the screen and the boring game. “Someone else will t
ake your little sister to her party,” he sneered.
"Are you kidding me? They'd shit their pants walking up to ask her."
Judd snorted. “She's just a person."
Casey raised a brow. “You hide that soft heart so well."
Judd muttered something crude, shoving up from the couch to get more ice for his drink. His black mutt, Elwood, padded into the kitchen behind him. Judd dropped a few chunks of ice on the floor for the dog to chomp on.
What would a woman like Stella Ridge want with a man like him? She was America's sweetheart. Angel beautiful with a sex goddess voice. She was untouchable. He was a country loner with a past as black as his name and a voice only three people in the world had ever heard. He'd have to be plumb crazy to think she'd consider him, much less want him.
Women couldn't stand his silence. They'd liked the idea of his mystery but when it came down to serious relationship time they'd given up real fast.
He couldn't express his feelings in words. Women had that down to a science—a sport. They liked to think they could train their men to appreciate the fine art of it at least. The fact that he hadn't been willing to try had made them storm out after a few weeks, months for the ones who were more tolerant. It always ended the same way.
At one time, he'd gone back to Josie Brusky whenever he'd needed the release. Josie wasn't at all picky and the whole town knew it. In some circles, she was known as the town slut, in others the even more unforgivable word whore. She'd knocked boots on every single male's—and admittedly, sometimes not-so-single—bed from here to Moss Creek, from pot-bellied Wyatt Long to golden boy Keefe Ridge.
Judd had had to break things off with Josie real quick, though, when he'd found out about Casey's feelings for her. While every other man treated her like a bawdy showgirl, Casey wanted to treat Josie like a lady—though she laughed at him for it.
Casey stayed for the rest of the game before heading home. As he walked to the door, he glanced back over his shoulder with a serious expression. “Party's tomorrow night. You better find a way to ask her fast."
Judd shook his head as the front door closed behind his friend. There was no way in hell.
Some late night talk show was on now. Judd reached for the control and began to channel surf. Nothing grabbed his attention. He wasn't ready for bed yet. He tried not to crash until he was utterly exhausted. Insomnia clung to him like a swarm of gnats. He frowned at the black-and-white movie onscreen, mind wandering to the bottommost compartment of the entertainment center he'd built himself.
With a sigh, he heaved up from the couch and crossed the room. He opened the pull-out, mahogany drawer. Not every movie Stella had ever made was there, but most of them. He had the action flick that had put her on the Hollywood map, the emotional drama that had almost won her a little golden man, and the last movie she'd made before the accident, a sappy love story Casey would've goaded him over for the rest of his life.
He reached for the indie movie and popped it into the DVD player before he could think better of the decision. Back on the couch, he let Elwood hop into Casey's empty spot and curl into a ball next to him, head on his thigh. He poured another glass of whiskey. He was going to need it.
He didn't know why he did it to himself. It was torment, watching her most controversial role. It was Stella at her most provocative. She'd done it so naturally, there was an irresistible rawness to it the audience had to believe.
No one in Wayback had ever seen that side of her. That was for damn sure.
Elwood began to snore within the first thirty minutes, but from the moment Stella stepped onscreen in a World-War-II-fashioned dress, lips painted vibrant red, green eyes glittering suggestively at her leading man, Judd's attention was fixated on the screen. He absently petted the sleeping dog's head until the moment came.
His hand stilled. The whiskey cupped in his other hand was forgotten. The hero of the story, an enraptured fool Judd felt akin to, undid the buttons one by one on the back of her dress. She stripped it off. He slid the straps of her slip over her pale shoulders. She let it slide to the floor. The camera panned out.
Judd's heart knocked hard against the cage door of his ribs. He found it hard to breathe. The love scene was thorough, leaving hardly a movement to the imagination. As always, he wanted to be the one running his hands over her long, pale back. He wanted to feel her silken skin under his hard, calloused palms. He wanted to be the one to drive into her again and again and lose himself, watch her lose herself, watch those sultry green eyes roll back in ecstasy, hear the long, low moan stir in her throat, his name a plea on her lips.
The scene changed, cutting to a loud street scene. Jerking back to reality, he shifted on the couch, trying to ease the weight in the front of his jeans. It didn't go anywhere. Elwood sensed his discomfort and edged away, groaning. Judd sucked his now watery whiskey down and fought to even his breath.
He couldn't ask her. Real or not, there was no way that woman onscreen would want anything to do with him.
* * * *
Stella gasped, hand flying up to her mouth to hold back a scream. Jack the bull obviously remembered Judd's escape from the week before. He wasn't letting it happen again. Judd flew off the bull, hand still caught in the leather strap on Jack's back. Jack bucked and whirled, horns thrashing, trying to stab his adversary.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Stella moaned. Her hand gripped Teensy's arm like a vise. “Get out of there, Judd! Get out of there!"
As if he'd heard her, he finally yanked his hand free and fell to the ground. At last the waiting scream broke from her throat when Jack's back legs kicked up dust, making Judd disappear for a moment. “He's trampling him!” Stella shrieked despite the fact that she couldn't see a thing.
Judd's form skirted out of the cloud of dust, crab walking away from the furious bull. Jack didn't seem to notice his prey escaping. He was still bucking and snorting, blinded by his rage. The three rodeo clowns put themselves between him and Judd, managing to shoo him out of the corral. Judd retrieved his hat and raised it up to show the crowd he was okay.
The crowd applauded around her as Stella shrank to her stadium seat, hands over her face. “Oh, Jesus, that was close. Too close."
"Judd's had closer calls than that,” Teensy said, patting Stella on the back. “He may be crazy, but he's smart."
Stella dropped her hands and forced herself to breathe. “Is he okay? Do you think he's okay?"
"He walked off fine,” Teensy reminded her. She squinted at her. “You're awful het up over all this.” A sly smile broke over her face. “You got something going with the silent cowboy?"
"No.” But Stella wondered why she'd gotten all worked up when she'd seen Judd fly off Jack's back. “No,” she said again to clarify it for herself more than Teensy. “He used to ignore me."
"Well, things have changed since then,” Teensy told her, clapping for the next contestant. “You aren't a scrawny cowgirl in pigtails anymore."
Stella held her hand over her eyes, squinting in the direction Judd had disappeared in. “Is the medical tent still back that way?"
"Yeah.” Teensy frowned when Stella rose. “Where are you going?"
"I'll be back,” Stella told her. “I need to walk.” She left the arena just as the chute gate opened, releasing the next crazy rider and bucking beast.
She strolled through the afternoon crowd. The Yellow Rose Arena was the place to be on a lazy Saturday afternoon. She'd already watched Keefe brave a bucking bronc and Casey rope a steer in record time. The bull-riding event had been the last of the day. She'd stuck around with the rest of the crowd to see Judd ride again.
Stella found the open-sided medical tent around the back of the corral. She saw the blinking lights of an ambulance and her heart stuttered, panicking. Then her eyes fell on the lone figure in the shadows of the tent.
She recognized the broad back and thick, black hair. Breathing a sigh of relief, she walked up to him. “You all right?” she asked when she was within hea
ring distance.
His head whirled around, his brows perking up in surprise at the sight of her. As she rounded the bench he was resting on, she saw he was wrapping tape around the hand Jack had tried to rip off. “That was a rough ride,” she said. She felt like an idiot. Of course, he knew that—better than anyone.
He nodded, dropping his attention back to the tape.
"Here, let me do that,” she said, stepping to him. He didn't resist the hand that reached out to take his and the roll of medical tape. They were both silent as she wrapped his wrist, palm and thumb tight. Using her teeth to tear the tape, she bent her head down close to his to break it in two. She secured the bandaging and raised her eyes to his.
God, they were gorgeous. She'd never seen eyes that deep or rich. Their multihued depths left her throat bone dry. Her heart raced somewhere between her uvula and chest cavity. “That better?” she asked, voice no more than a hoarse murmur.
He nodded slightly, eyes searching hers. Had she ever noticed how full his lips were? She licked her own and watched his gaze travel down over them.
She sucked in a sharp breath and stood up, taking a step back from him. Jesus, she felt like horny teenager. She shook her head to clear it. “I just came back to make sure you're okay."
His brows quirked up again in surprise. She shoved her hands in her jeans pockets, feeling awkward. “That hand going to be all right?"
She was relieved when his gaze dropped from her face to his hand, unable to breathe right when he looked at her. He twisted his wrist around and ran his good hand over his thumb and wrist. She'd never really noticed how thick both were, how dark. Swallowing hard to wet her throat though her saliva was still missing, words bubbled up on her tongue. She pushed them out on impulse. “Do you want to go to the party with me tonight?"
This time when his gaze rose to hers there was genuine shock on his face. He recovered after a moment, narrowing his eyes.
She shrugged and let out a nervous laugh. “Keefe couldn't keep a secret to save his life."
He studied her face for a long moment. As she waited on tenterhooks, her face grew hot. Her palms were slick with sweat ... and not from the heat.
Blackest Heart [Wayback Texas] Page 5
