Blackest Heart [Wayback Texas]

by Amber Leigh Williams

  Yep, she was definitely reverting back to those unsteady, tempestuous adolescent years.

  A smile moved over his mouth, stunning her. Her heart jittered hopefully. Standing, he closed the gap she'd put between them. She wanted to press her mouth over the curved line of his. Body humming from his closeness, she realized breathless inches separated them. She hadn't felt this hot since her last fever.

  "Okay,” he said in an unbelievably sexy voice. She would've melted to her knees right then if there hadn't been people watching.

  She sighed in relief. “Okay.” She cleared her throat. Her voice was more high-pitched than usual. “Where do you want to meet?"

  His eyes squinted against the bright light, looking over her shoulder thoughtfully. “Back here about six?” he suggested.

  She nodded. “Sounds good.” She didn't back away, letting his eyes suck her in. Shifting forward, she tried to look casual in case anyone was looking. If she didn't kiss him, she was sure she'd explode.

  "Stella!"

  Everyone in the tent looked up. Keefe was charging forward, looking ready for a fight. “What are you doing?” he demanded. His eyes were on Judd and looked downright dangerous.

  "Talking,” Stella shot back though she did step away from Judd. “Got a problem with that?"

  "Teensy's looking for you,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “Why don't you go back to the arena?"

  Stella opened her mouth to argue. Then she saw that everyone had stopped what they were doing to watch. Locking her jaw tight, she walked away from Judd. “See you tonight,” she told him. She saw his nod before she met Keefe's dark expression. Brushing by him, she bumped shoulders to get the silent warning across. She glanced back once to see them glaring at each other, the tension between them thick as molasses.

  She rolled her eyes. Wasn't this going to be interesting? She had the serious hots for the man her big, territorial brother hated most in the world.

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  Chapter Seven

  After the rodeo, Judd couldn't get her out of his head. She'd looked so sexy in the white Stetson and dark-washed jeans. He'd been prevented from watching the jeans hug her well-made behind thanks to her brother. Keefe Ridge on the vengeful prowl put big Jack to shame.

  Not that he was worried about Keefe. He'd stopped paying attention to Stella's big brother a long time ago. Keefe had never overstepped the bounds of insults and glowering. Judd wasn't going to let that chase him away from the Range. Or Stella.

  She'd asked him to the party. Wasn't that a kick in the ass? He'd mooned all night long over that friggin’ tempting movie, feeling like small change watching her million-dollar smile, feeling every bit like an extra in her real life drama. Just a man on the side.

  She'd knocked him clean off his spurs in the medical tent. Walking up to him to make sure he was all right then wrapping his hand for him. Her blouse had dipped down when she'd bent over him, and he'd let his gaze roam over the visible curves underneath, where they'd swelled from the lacy edge of her bra.

  She'd blushed red when she'd asked him to the party, charming him down to his toes and he'd had to fight hard to hold back a fool's grin. And if he wasn't mistaken, if Keefe hadn't interrupted them, she would've tilted that famed mouth up to his and laid one on him.

  Judd forced his thoughts away from the tempting thoughts. The insistent weight of his arousal strained and ached against the zipper of his jeans. He'd run home for a shower after he'd dealt with all he needed to at the arena. Picking out his newest attire, he'd put on his best pair of jeans with his best boots and a black shirt. He didn't have a newer hat so he had to stick with one of the old ones. Now he was racing like hellfire to get back. He was ten minutes late, thanks to the lecture Keefe had tried to give him on his way out.

  His teeth clenched together. He'd about had it with the Range's golden boy. The only thing that kept him from pounding his fists into the dickhead's face was his hard-earned position at the Range. If there was a scuffle, he doubted Leland would keep him around, despite the old man's kindness in the years past.

  Judd pulled into the arena's parking lot, his tires squealing a bit, skirting on the pavement as he sped toward the nearest parking space. He saw the truck with the Range's logo on the side, and muttered a vicious curse under his breath. He'd kept her waiting.

  He got out just as she opened the truck door. He reached for it, pulling it all the way open and holding out a hand for her. One long, bare leg reached for the ground. She took his offered hand as he stood frozen, his gaze tracing up her long body.

  Oh, Jesus.

  Her dress was the color of her eyes, the neckline cut low ... really low. The tops of her breasts swelled over the edge just as they had over the lace bra earlier. The material of the dress hugged her curves, the hem flirting around her knees. She'd tied her hair back in a tight twist and the blonde shone like sunrays in the dying light. Her bangs slanted over her brow, hiding the scar next to her eye. The only one visible she'd done her best to cover with makeup.

  He was baffled by how sexy that pale, barely visible line was.

  He had a quick, devastating flashback of the frontal glimpse from the nude scene the night before.

  His erection came back in full glory.

  "Thanks,” she said, reaching for her purse and closing the door. She locked the truck then turned to him, tucking her bangs behind her ear. “I'm, uh, sorry this is such short notice. I should've asked you earlier, but ... well, I guess I wasn't sure you'd want to. It was pretty impulsive. I hope you don't mind."

  Hooking a hand around her elbow, he led her to his truck. His voice was stuck in the back of his throat and he was afraid of the words stuck back there with it. After opening the door, he gave her a boost up. Walking around to the driver's side, he knew he was in deep trouble.

  * * * *

  Stella gripped her handbag tight as he pulled into the packed driveway of her father's house. “Geez, think they could be a little more obvious?” she asked, trying to lighten the tension between them.

  Judd hadn't said a word to her on the drive over. Probably a good thing. He smelled like a spicy forest. When he'd helped her into his truck, she'd wanted to bury her nose in his thick, muscled neck and curl into a simpering ball.

  He looked even hotter spiffed up. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, as usual, so she couldn't read them. His mouth was set in a grim line. His jaw looked hard as stone. He'd left the top few buttons of his shirt open. The tan skin he'd left exposed was exactly the place she wanted to bury her nose and sniff like a shameless hound.

  She forced herself to stop looking at him, took a deep breath as he walked around to open her door and hand her out. She grasped his hand before he could step out of her grasp. As they walked to the door, she took another careful breath. “I have a confession to make.” When he turned his gaze to her face, she explained, “I'm scared out of my mind."

  They walked in silence for a moment. Then his hand slipped out of hers and reached around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. Tension literally fell out of her shoulders as she looped an arm around his waist and her side hugged his. The stiffness between them was forgotten as they walked, linked, up the steps to the front door. They heard the low murmur of voices from within and saw a curtain twitch on one of the front windows.

  "Before we go in,” she said, turning to him as he let her go, “I want to say thank you for coming with me. I might not get another chance."

  He didn't smile or nod in reply but lifted a hand to the knot she'd tied her hair into. He ran his hand over it then cupped the nape of her neck. For a moment, she thought he would lean down and plant those full lips on hers. Liquid heat pooled in her chest, spilled down her torso and swam into her center.

  The front door opened, cutting the friction between them in half. Casey stood in the doorway, grinning slyly. “Hey, sis!” he greeted, over-loudly. There was a distinctive shush from behind him. “You're home early!"

>   Deciding to play along, she stepped inside. She felt Judd close behind her, his hand on the small of her back. It bolstered her courage. “There wasn't anyone at The Blue Bug. Guess they all decided to tuck in early after a home-cooked dinner."

  "Guess so.” She didn't miss the not-so-discreet wink he aimed over her shoulder at Judd. “Come on in. Dad's in the den."

  She braced herself as they rounded the wall into the den then stopped when she saw the herd of people pressed against the far wall.

  "Surprise!” they shouted, jumping away from their hiding places.

  Her mouth dropped open in authentic disbelief. There were so many. They flocked out of the pool room and her father's office. They came out of the kitchen and dining room behind her, more down the stairs. She was soon caught up in a whirlwind of names and faces she prayed she'd remember correctly.

  She lost Judd and Casey. She hugged her father in gratitude, kissed him on the cheek before she was swept away again, by Teensy, for more reintroductions.

  There was a band out back. The yard had been dressed up with fairy lights usually reserved for Christmas and the Fourth of July. They'd decorated like this for her farewell party. Her eyes stung and her heart swelled nostalgically at the sight. Keefe pulled her out on the dance floor for the Electric Slide. She danced with half a dozen men, only half of whom she could put a name to.

  She remembered some faces from high school. Tiffany Covington and Corey Donovan were married now with their pre-teen son and a baby in tow. Annie Zykov and Drew Lawson made a cute pair—though Annie looked like she was about to give birth at any moment. Stella stopped to congratulate them and to express her condolences about Drew's sister Lori, who Stella had rubbed elbows with in LA. Not every Wayback girl who left town had been successful. Lori had been B-list at best and had died in a drunk-driving accident. It was hard for Stella to think about, especially with the memories of her own crash still hovering like big dark thunderheads in her mind. She hugged them both then greeted more old friends.

  Everywhere she turned there were happy couples, half of them with families of their own. It was almost surreal seeing everyone all grown up. Wayback citizens really knew how to go forth and prosper. Jericho Farrell was married to Eden Sawyer; Sherrie Serrano's sister Daisy had tied the knot with a man named Sam Howard.

  Unbelievable, she thought with a shake of her head as she watched Casey moon over Josie Brusky while she waltzed with her father for the first slow dance. Afterward, she went to find refreshment. Teensy pulled her into a gaggle of women who bombarded her with questions about making movies and what it was like to work with some of her more notorious leading men. She tensed when Kenzie joined the group.

  "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable at The Blue Bug,” she said though the sly flicker in her eyes suggested otherwise. “I admit I got carried away."

  "It's nothing,” Stella lied. She saw the same girls crowded close behind Kenzie, already gawking. Like vultures swooping around fresh meat. “Excuse me. I have to make a trip to the little cowgirls’ room."

  At the back door, she ran into a familiar face. Sherrie Serrano squealed in delight as she embraced her hard. “I'm so glad you decided to come home!"

  "I couldn't have done it without your encouragement,” Stella said, pulling back to look at the former model's picturesque face. “Thank you, by the way. Thank you so much."

  Sherrie waved a hand. “No problem, hon. Jake and I are just glad to see you smiling again."

  Stella smiled at him. “When did y'all get back in town?"

  "Just before you did,” Jake explained. “Saw you at the rodeo but didn't get a chance to talk."

  "You were busy,” Stella remembered. Jake was one of those brave rodeo clowns.

  "So were you,” he said with a wink.

  She realized he must've seen her in the medical tent with Judd. “Yeah. Well, you both enjoy yourselves."

  Sherrie patted her on the shoulder. “Welcome home."

  Stella made her way through the house to the kitchen. Maybe Nuala would fix her some real liquor. The party champagne just wasn't doing it.

  She smiled wide when she met Judd there. Because it was so crowded, they were pressed close, torso-to-torso. She grinned up at him. “Bit warm in here, isn't it?” she murmured, rising on tiptoes to put the words in his ear.

  His arm curled around her waist again and his cheek rubbed against hers. She knew it was probably because of the crowd pushing in around them but the part of her that screamed for him to touch her hoped it was on purpose. “Why don't we get out of here?” he said in a voice only she could hear.

  "Gladly,” she replied, thinking maybe they could escape out to the stable for a quick breath of fresh air. After all the nerves and aggravation from the party and all the friction that'd been wafting between them for days, she was raring to find some alone time. Maybe then she could give him that kiss she'd been saving since that evening he'd first touched her, tracing her scars while they stood by the fence rail.

  They began to wiggle out, him close at her back, when someone called his name.

  Stella felt him stiffen inch by muscled inch. They both turned to see Keefe. He and his buddies were lounging around the nook table. On the table was all the hard liquor that had been stashed throughout the house. Keefe was standing, motioning them over. There was a sly, sloppy grin on his face. His eyes winked with trouble.

  He was drunk and raring for a fight.

  "Hey, get over here! Have a drink on me!” he called. “I wanna make a toast to my sweet little sister!"

  A curious crowd was starting to file into the room behind them. There was no way out so they went forward. Her hand locked tight on his. Keefe made two of his buddies on barstools get out of their way. “Take a seat,” he invited, sweeping out his arm. “What's your pleasure?” He leered at Judd. “Bet you're gonna make me guess."

  His buddies snickered. Stella glared. “Whiskey,” she said. “Got any TruBlu left?"

  Keefe stepped back to fix the drinks. “Hear that, boys? He's got the little woman ordering for him."

  Stella opened her mouth to retort, but Judd's grip on her hand tightened. She glanced at him and saw the quick shake of his head and the hardening of his jaw. Aggression wafted off him in waves, and she wondered how he contained it all. She rubbed her thumb over his palm, leaning toward him.

  Keefe turned and saw her move closer. His eyes flicked down over their linked hands, smile melting, replaced by a combative sneer. Dropping their glasses onto the counter with a thud, he let whiskey slosh over the rims. “Raise your glasses, boys!” he called and raised his own high. His eyes sharpened on Judd's face. “Too good to lift your glass to my sister, Black?"

  After a moment's hesitation, Judd picked up his glass. Stella followed suit, hating every minute of Keefe's taunting, every second Judd let him.

  "To Stella, back from bigger and better things. May she have enough sense to differentiate between what's right for her and what's bound to disappoint her in the end.” He tossed back his liquor, smacked his lips together.

  "Stella!” The others echoed her name. She watched Judd glare at Keefe over the rim of his glass. He finished it, set it back on the counter and looked at her. She stood. “Let's go dance,” she murmured.

  "Where you two going?” Keefe asked. He laid a hand on Judd's chest as he rose and pushed him back onto the stool. “Sit down. I'm not finished with you yet."

  "Let us go, Keefe,” Stella demanded.

  "You can go anytime, sis,” Keefe allowed. “But this one's staying right here where I can see him."

  Judd rolled his eyes and muttered something dark under his breath.

  Keefe leered over him again. “What, do I need to sign it for you, sweetheart?” His hands gesticulated wildly as he said slowly, “Stay away from my friggin’ sister, asshole!” He ended with his middle finger in Judd's face.

  Judd launched off his chair. Stella dodged between them, pushing them apart. “Back off, both of you!” sh
e yelled.

  Keefe bounced on the balls of his feet, rolled his head around, raising his fists. “Come on, little orphan. Big, tough guy on a bull can't fight a real man?” He took a swing at Judd so close to his face, people behind them screamed.

  "Oh, for God's sake!” Stella yelled. She balled her hand into a fist and swung it up into Keefe's face as hard as she could. It connected with his nose. He staggered back into the table. Liquor bottles fell to the floor and cracked, sending his buddies to their feet.

  Stella shook her sore hand, seeing the shocked faces of those around them. “Let's get the hell out of here,” she told Judd, fury humming in her blood.

  He took her hand firmly and pulled her through the hovering crowd.

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  Chapter Eight

  Brooding, simmering silence filled the truck. Judd was riding heavy on the accelerator. He couldn't believe Stella had punched Keefe. She'd really walloped him, right in his drunken face. Judd's blood was singing with rage from Keefe's taunting. Weathering that in front of her had been degrading. But under the rage, arousal boiled. He tried to wrestle it down, but it only grew, latching onto his loins and growing thick within his jeans.

  He chanced a glance at her and saw her arms were crossed tight under her breasts, pushing them up as she glared out the window. The livid steam wafting off her was a minefield a man would be foolish to challenge.

  He pulled into his drive, the truck kicking up dust from the dry, dirt road. He'd left the lone, porch light burning. Elwood heard the truck coming up the drive and walked down the steps to meet him.

  Stella didn't wait for him to walk around to her side to get out. She bent to greet Elwood when he trotted to her, sniffing her out and eager for a belly-rub. Judd went up the porch steps when she didn't say a word to him. Leaving the door open behind him, he stalked into the kitchen.

  He needed a drink.

  Pulling a glass down from the cabinet, he dropped a few chunks of ice into it then found the bottle of whiskey he kept in the liquor cabinet. The door shut behind him, but he didn't look up. Safer not to look at her while he was working to tether the humming beast in his blood.