Cowboy Alpha Billionaire Bad Boy: F#cking Jerk 1

by Tawny Taylor

  Oh, shit. It wasn’t before the accident.

  “Lies. That’s all that comes out of that man’s mouth. Lies. The way I saw it, I was doing you a favor today. I could’ve kept my mouth shut and let you walk right into the trap.” She sighed and for an instant, she looked different, vulnerable, not bitchy. “I know you won’t thank me. Not yet. But someday you will.” She turned around, and without speaking another word, climbed into her shitty, beat up pickup truck and skidded away, sending up a cloud of dust that obscured everything around me, exactly as her words had obscured everything I thought I knew about this Clay, the adult Clay.

  Then all those disgusting comments he’d tossed at me when I’d first arrived played through my head.

  Well, I think we both know what I want.

  I’m not going to force you or anything. You know I’m not the kind.

  Asshole. It was true. I knew it in my gut.

  Clay hadn’t changed. He was still the fucking jerk that stole women’s innocence, broke their hearts, and destroyed their lives.

  Why had I thought, for even one second, that he might have changed? People didn’t change. I should’ve known that by now. I wasn’t a stupid, clueless teenager anymore.

  I flattened my hand on my belly.

  At least I wouldn’t end up like Lacy, pregnant with his child and chasing his sorry ass for child support. Not at this point in my cycle.

  But I couldn’t be sure that wouldn’t happen if I was alone with him again.

  He wasn’t just good at seducing women. He was great at it. And I was too fucking weak to see through his games. Even now, doubts echoed in my head.

  What if she was lying?

  What if Clay really did feel all those things he’d told me he felt last night?

  How would I know the truth? Would I ever know the truth?

  Dammit, Clay! I fucking hate you right now.

  My eyes started to sting.

  Oh, hell no. I was not going to cry again. Not over Clay Walker. If what Lacy said was true, he wasn’t worth a single tear. Not one.

  I blinked a few times. I sucked in a few breaths and let them out slowly. My eyes stopped burning. But I was still mad. No, make that furious.

  “I should fire his sorry ass,” I spat as I stormed into the barn.

  Rocket kicked the wall.

  “I’m feeling you, Rocket.” I reached for his cheek but, responding to my anger, he turned his face away. “Shhhh. It’s okay.” I reached a second time, and this time the horse didn’t flinch. My fingers touched smooth, warm hair. Instantly, a tiny bit of the tension snaking through my body loosened. I sighed and so did the skittish horse. His head turned slightly, and the eye facing me focused on mine. “What do you see when you look at me? Do you see a fool?”

  He nodded his head and blew out a snort.

  “Yeah, just what I thought.” I tipped my head, resting my forehead against his. “I must have idiot written across my forehead.”

  “Now, why would you say a thing like that?” someone asked behind me.

  I knew who that someone was. That someone was the fucking jerk who’d sweet-talked me out of my panties last night. Who might have lied to my face. Who might have told me everthing I’d been waiting for years to hear.

  Might have? Why was I giving this jerk the benefit of the doubt?

  I whirled around and gave him a death glare.

  His brows scrunched. “What’s this? Are you mad at me?”

  “Mad? At you? Why would I be mad?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from every word.

  He shouldered a nearby post. “I’d sure like to know that, myself.” He blinked wide eyes at me, as if he had no clue why I was upset.

  “So you’re going to play innocent?” I bit out, venting my hurt and anger. I couldn’t hold back. It was impossible. I’d trusted this guy last night, despite what he’d done to me four years ago. I’d convinced myself he’d grown up. Why was I such a fool? When he’d been acting like a total asshole since I’d come back? A couple of nice gestures and I was ready to forget everything? “I’d have more respect for you if you’d just own up to being an asshole.”

  He tipped his head slightly and narrowed his eyes. Several seconds of tense silence passed between us and then he shook his head. “I swear, I have no idea what’s going on. I mean, last night was great.”

  I wave of heat washed through me at the memory. “Oh, sure it was great. For you. You got what you wanted since I came back to Dawson, didn’t you?”

  “And you didn’t?” He stepped forward. “As I recall, you begged me. Begged.”

  My face burned. What an ass. Of course he had to throw my mistake in my face and make me feel even shittier. “Yes, but that was because you’d lied.”

  He crossed his arms. His big biceps flexed. If he thought that was going to distract me, he was wrong. “Lied? About what?”

  “You lied about everything. About being sorry for what you did four years ago. About wanting to make things right. About having feelings for me after all this time.” My voice cracked. My eyes burned. I was not going to cry. Hell no! I clenched my fists, fingernails digging into my palms.

  Clay reached for me but jerked his hand back before touching me. “I didn’t lie, Morgan. I meant every word I said last night.”

  Wow, he was so fucking convincing. Maybe I wasn’t such an idiot for falling for his bullshit? He looked so sincere. He sounded sincere too. But I knew better. I knew he was lying. “How about that sad story about wanting to be an astronaut and not being able to leave? Tell me that wasn’t a story to make me feel sorry for you, to soften me up.”

  “Hell no. It was true. I told you because I wanted to share a part of me, of my life, with you.”

  I had to give it to him, he was very good actor. But I knew the truth. And I was going to make him admit it to me. “What about telling me you can’t get a girl pregnant! That has to be a lie.”

  “No, that’s not a lie,” he insisted. “It’s true.”

  Ha! I had him now. “Then why are you paying child support to some bitch with fake tits?”

  His eyes widened, and a tiny crack appeared in his calm, cool I’ve-got-everything-under-control expression. Yeah, I had him backed into a corner. “You talked to Lacy?”

  I poked his deflating chest with my index finger. “You can’t lie your way out of this one.”

  “I didn’t lie. I can’t get a woman pregnant. I can show you the proof.”

  Proof? What kind of proof did he have that countered the obvious—a kid? “I’d say Lacy showed me proof that says you can.”

  “Unless the child isn’t mine,” he countered.

  Shit. I hadn’t considered that option. I’d assumed the kid was his, that he had to be the father if he was paying support. Wasn’t that how it worked? “But you’re paying child support. Can you be forced to pay for a child that isn’t yours?”

  “No, you can’t,” he said, a cocky I’ve-got-you smile spreading wide. “I’m not paying court-ordered support.”

  “What? Wait. Are you saying you’re voluntarily paying support for a child that isn’t yours? Why would you do that?”

  He nodded. “A lot of people have asked me that.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. Did I believe this explanation? No, not really. But it was possible, I supposed. Totally unlikely, but possible. “No man would volunteer to pay child support for a kid who wasn’t his. Not to mention, I got the distinct impression that the mother of said child believes very strongly that you are the father.”

  “She’s convinced herself I am. And that’s fine.” He shrugged. “The blood tests say otherwise. But I’m not going to bother with setting her straight. Because that kid is the closest I’ll ever have to a child of my own.”

  That explanation shook me. Because it made sense (in a strange but somewhat logical way). Clay wanted children. But he couldn’t father them. So why not claim one that was unwanted by some other asshole?

  But just because his explanation was
plausible, did that make it true?

  I was so confused. Could I trust him? Or couldn’t I? Who was the liar, Lacy or Clay?

  “She said you are late paying child support,” I mentioned as I tried to mentally sort through the twisty-turny lies and half-truths.

  “That’s a lie. I’m not late. I just gave her a check last week.” He sighed and shoved his fingers through his hair. “Obviously Lacy came here to stir up trouble. And she succeeded. This isn’t the first time she’s pulled something like this. When did you talk to her? I’m guessing it was… this morning?”

  “Yes. Not long ago. You just missed her.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Convenient. She just happened to leave before I got here so I couldn’t defend myself.”

  “That’s because I told her to leave.”

  Looking annoyed but not guilty, he searched my eyes, as if he was looking for a sign from me that I believed him. I did. At least, I believed some of his explanations. But there was still that nagging doubt, making me uneasy. I was a fool last night, letting down my guard so easily and blindly believing everything he’d said. I couldn’t let myself do that again.

  He said, “Of course you told her to leave. She knew you would.”

  So far he’d explained a lot of what she’d said. His explanations were reasonable, though a little bizarre. However, I couldn’t assume everything Lacy said was a lie. There could have been some grain of truth in there somewhere. “But how did she know about…about what happened between us last night? She knew everything. Where we went. The dinner. The truck….everything. She said you’d done those same things with her and every other girl Dawson.”

  He nodded and shouldered the post again. “She wasn’t lying about that. I have done those same things with her. And with a few other girls. Not every. I’m not that good.” He flashed that smile, the one that no doubt melted all those girls’ hearts, and looked me straight in the eye. “But that doesn’t mean what I said wasn’t true. I have been thinking about you for a long time. And I never expected to…I never thought last night would happen.”

  I could tell he was being honest now. And vulnerable. And I appreciated it. But I was still leery. Sure, I could believe that a man who couldn’t father a child might claim a kid who wasn’t his. But…but…

  The bottom line: I just didn’t trust him.

  I gently pushed on his chest, forcing him back. “We need to get to work.”

  “Sure. Now’s not the time to talk about this.”

  “Right.” Turning back to Rocket, I let my head fall forward. The horse nuzzled me with his velvety nose, the first time he’d ever shown me any kind of affection. I stroked the soft fur and blinked hard. “Thanks, boy. I needed that.”

  Chapter 8

  Thankfully the rest of the day was much less drama-filled than the morning. Sure, everything didn’t go perfectly. We were dealing with animals, after all. There was always some kind of chaos going on. Though Rocket was on his best behavior for once. It was as if he sensed I was upset and didn’t want to make things worse.

  Aunt Sandee had always told me horses were tuned into people’s feelings. I never believed her. To me they were big, stubborn, and a little scary. Today, Rocket helped me see another side of his personality. This side I actually liked.

  Unlike Elvis, the ever-crowing rooster. Elvis was up to no good all day long. And by the time the sun was hanging low over the western horizon, I was ready to throw him on a pot and cook him for dinner.

  The hard work helped distract me. That was the best part of it all. I didn’t sit around thinking about Clay, about the child that might be his…or might not. The fact that he was so predictable when it came to women. And that he hadn’t even tried to deny that he’d treated me pretty much the same way he’d treated every other girl he’d slept with in his truck.

  Since the summer he’d broken my heart, I’d believed he was a total tool. An asshole that broke women’s hearts for kicks and felt absolutely no remorse. I’d spent a little time with him since then, and now I wanted to believe he wasn’t all bad. I wanted to believe he possessed some redeeming qualities. But maybe that was just hopeful thinking. And maybe I was an absolute fool for believing a word he said.

  I knew, as the day wound down and the workers left, that he would come looking for me, wanting to talk.

  I wasn’t ready.

  I needed time to think.

  Outside the barn, I glanced around, looking for him. I didn’t find him, which was a good thing. Maybe he wanted to give me time to digest everything I’d learned this morning. Then again, maybe he was repairing the broken fence in the far pasture. Whatever. Didn’t matter. I was going inside, having some dinner alone, and losing myself in a book.

  I waved a goodbye to one of the boys and stomped up to the porch, yanking off my nasty boots before going inside in my stockinged feet. My stomach rumbled but I headed to the bathroom first. Shower. Then food. I smelled like shit. Literally.

  Roughly twenty minutes later, I excited the bathroom smelling a lot better and wearing nothing but a bath towel. Water dripped from my wet hair as I hurried to my bedroom to get dressed.

  I’d just stepped into my panties when I heard the first round of knocks on the front door.

  I’d gotten them to my hips when the second series thumped through the house.

  I sighed then yanked on a sweatshirt and jumped into a pair of jeans.

  The third series of knocks started just as I was making my way through the living room, toward the front door. I opened it.

  It was Clay.

  Holding a bunch of wildflowers (weeds).

  A round of nonstop sneezes kicked in, and I blurted, “Allergic,” while stabbing my index finger at the cause.

  Reacting quickly, Clay turned around and tossed them out the open door. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Standing in the door, I blinked watery eyes and tried to smile. “It’s okay. How would you, right? I’ve been downing antihistimines all week. It’s the thought that counts.”

  “So does that mean you’ll let me in? I’d like to talk.” He gave me one of his trademark smiles.

  I hesitated, waffling back and forth between letting him in and not. If I let him in, I couldn’t trust myself to just talk. The chemistry between us was way too strong.

  One thing would probably lead to another. And I didn’t need to have sex with him again. That would only make this whole situation that much more confusing.

  If I didn’t let him in, things would be awkward between us for a while. But it would give me time to figure out whether Clay Walker was the fucking jerk I’d thought or not. “No, I don’t think you should come inside tonight.”

  His expression soured, the smile wilting. “Oh.” He looked like a kid who’d lost his puppy.

  “I need some space. To think about things. I mean…” I stared into his eyes and forgot what I was going to say. “I mean…” A million thoughts raced through my head.

  Clay lifted his hands. “I get it. I’ll back off.” He took a step back as if to illustrate, backing out the door. “No need to explain. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned. His boots thumped down the wood steps.

  I took one last look at him and closed the door.

  Wow, did I feel shitty.

  Why was that? I shouldn’t feel guilty. I hadn’t done anything wrong. I just needed some time to figure things out. It would help if I had someone to talk to, someone I could trust. Someone who knew Clay and was objective.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to find either around here. No friends of his could be trusted to tell me the truth. And the women…? Not going to be objective, that was for sure. Not if he’d slept with them.

  There was one exception.One girl even Clay wouldn’t fuck.

  His sister.

  She wouldn’t be objective. But she still might be able to give me some insight.

  Was she still living in Dawson? Clay hadn’t mentioned her at all since I’d come back.

  My stoma
ch reminded me, with a loud growl, that I hadn’t eaten in hours. I threw together a salad and stuffed some into my mouth as I searched Aunt Sandee’s kitchen, looking for the phone directory.

  Dawson was one of those towns that was stuck in the nineteenth century. They still printed a phone and address directory, listing every single household by name. But the problem was I didn’t know if Clay’s sister Carrie had married. She might have a different last name. Or she might have left the state.