by Tawny Taylor
It was a total long shot. But I wouldn’t lose anything by trying.
I scored the latest directory in a drawer. Past editions were stacked in the living room on the bottom bookshelf next to the fireplace. Aunt Sandee was like that, never threw away stuff. Especially anything to do with her hometown.
A few turns of the page, and I found an entry for Carrie Walker. It was a freaking miracle. She was still single, living in an apartment in town.
I checked the clock. It was still early. I could take a little drive into town and check in with her. Although we hadn’t been super-close when I was in high school, we did hang out a few times.
I grabbed my bag and jumped into my car, and within minutes I was bumping and rattling down the road toward downtown Dawson. I passed corn fields and pastures and hay fields, the smell of cow manure and fresh cut hay blasting through the open windows.
Downtown Dawson looked a lot like most Wyoming small towns. Tired and dusty, both sides of Main Street lined by typical western-looking buildings with tall front facades and long porch roofs held up with hand-carved timber posts. I parked in front of the pizza restaurant located in the only two-story building on Main Street and looked up. The apartments were above. The entries probably in the back.
I circled around the building and climbed the staircase, pausing at the top to question whether I was being an idiot or not.
I knocked before I could answer my own question because if I waited, I would probably chicken out and run.
No answer.
I didn’t bother knocking again. Either Carrie wasn’t home or she didn’t want visitors. I’d have to try another time.
Disappointed, I stomped down the stairs and wandered around to the front of the pizzeria. I flopped into my driver’s seat and stared out the windshield, trying to decide if I wanted to head to the nearby pub for a drink or just call it a night and go home.
While I was sitting there, trying to convince myself I wouldn’t look like a loser going into the pub alone, I caught sight of a couple out of the corner of my eye. They were strolling down the sidewalk, his arm flopped over her shoulder.
I took a closer look at them. They were coming this way, but with the setting sun behind them I couldn’t make out more than silhouettes. They looked so sweet and in love. Their steps in perfect time with each other. The bodies linked, moving as one. The sound of the woman’s laughter echoed through the quiet.
They strolled past the pizzaria’s window, the light illuminating their faces.
Ohmygod!
My heart stopped.
It wasn’t.
It couldn’t be…
Clay.
That bastard!
I looked at the woman. Was it Carrie?
No, that wasn’t his sister. It’s been a few years since I’ve seen her, but I was sure that wasn’t her.
And it wasn’t Lacy either.
This girl was pretty, in a very trying-too-hard kind of way, with her heavy makeup and fuck-me clothes. No question, this girl was after one thing—Clay’s dick. And, gauging from the look on his face, she was going to have it.
What a fool I’d been! How did that saying go? A tiger never changes its stripes? Yes, pretty sure that was it. And once a jerk, always a jerk.
Clay’s companion leaned in and kissed his cheek, whispering something in his ear.
He nodded and, absolutely clueless that I was sitting right in front of them, he walked by, headed who-knew-where. Maybe the freaking pasture to have dinner and a fuck under the stars.
In no mood to be in public now (though a lot of alcohol would be good), I started my car and steered out of the parking spot. And, somehow, even though I was determined to drive home and put an end to this fucked up day, I ended up stopping in front of the pub. I blamed my bruised ego. It needed some male recognition. I might be a fool, but I was a hot fool. Surely there’d be plenty of men in the pub willing to help me feel less…forgettable.
One drink. After the day I’d had, I deserved one drink.
I grabbed my bag and went inside.
The place was a pit. Narrow. Dark. Packed with people. One quick look around and I noticed the clientele was older than I expected. The men all dressed in coyboy hats, faded jeans, gray stubble and lots of tattoos. The women didn’t look a whole lot different than the men—minus the stubble…for some of them.
The place stank of stale beer and sweat. Hank Williams wailed on hidden speakers. A few heads turned my way as I stepped inside, shoes scuffing across the rough plank floors. I wiggled and bumped my way between scarred oak tables to the long bar lining the wall to the left. A busty girl with her tits practically falling out her top asked for my order. Second-guessing my decision, I ordered a beer and turned to see if I’d made as big a mistake as I’d originally thought.
“Well, hello there, darlin’,” a man at least thirty years older than me said as he eyed me up and down. This creepy leer was not what I’d been hoping for when I’d come in here. Unruly hair greasy, beard mangy, clothes dingy and face more leathery than his shitty boots. Not my idea of a dream cowboy. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”
Feeling totally out-of-place, I gave my elderly admirer a little smile then turned back to the bar. This was definitely not my crowd.
“’S’cuse me, but since when did a nice compliment like that deserve such a chilly reception?” the man said, his scowl turning his wrinkles into deep lines. He leaned closer, the stench of his breath making my eyes water. “Think you’re too good for me, bitch?”
Aw crap. Nothing was going right for me today. I was done. Out of there.
The bartender set my beer on a little paper napkin and proclaimed, “That’ll be five dollars.”
I fished a five and a one out of my purse, handed it to her, and then walked away, leaving the full beer on the bar. I side-stepped around groups of middle-aged people, jabbering and flirting and drinking way too much and finally plunged outside, into the fresh air. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
So much for consoling myself with some alcohol and a little male attention.
I stomped back to my car and flopped into the driver’s seat. I shoved the key in the ignition and gave it a crank. The engine turned over, and over…and over. It didn’t start.
Shit. I didn’t need this now.
I twisted the key again, and once more the engine sputtered but didn’t start.
This day was royally fucked.
First, I’d been screwed by Clay. And now I was screwed, thanks to my piece of crap car. How was I going to get back to the ranch?
I was done. Done! If that fucking lawyer came up to me right now and told me I could leave tonight, go back to Michigan, and still inherit my aunt’s money, I would scream for joy…and immediately get my ass back to civilization.
But that wasn’t going to happen.
I let my head fall forward, forehead resting on the steering wheel. What was I going to do?
Someone knocked on the passenger side window.
If it was the asshole from the bar, I was in trouble. Stupid me, I hadn’t locked the doors. He could be a total ass and attack me. And who would hear me? It wasn’t like there were hundreds of people wandering the streets.
I jerked my head up, heart racing…
Chapter 9
It wasn’t the creep from the bar. That was a small relief. But that didn’t mean my fucked up day was getting any better.
The someone knocking on my window, yeah, It was someone else I didn’t want to see. It was Clay. And his fuck friend.
“Are you all right?” Clay shouted through the closed window.
I nodded and tried my damnedest to produce a convincing smile. “Sure.”
He saw right through my fake smile, dammit. “What’s wrong?”
Behind him, his friend glowered. “Baby, what are you doing?” She wrapped a possessive arm around his neck and flattened her body against his back. “Let’s go.”
He peeled her arm away. “Amber, give me a min
ute, will you?”
Amber put her lips up to Clay’s ear and said something I didn’t hear. I was glad the window was still closed because I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. Then she stepped back and folded her arms under her tits, sending me a squinty I-hate-you-bitch glare.
The feeing was mutual.
Clay gave me a look that said he wasn’t going anywhere until I fessed up.
I sighed. “My car won’t start.”
“Again? Mike told me he fixed it.”
“He did. It was working for a while.”
Clay flipped his hand flat and wagged his fingers. “Pop the hood. Let me take a look.”
I didn’t want this asshole helping me again. But what else could I do? It wasn’t like another mechanic would come come strolling down the road this late. If he did, it was more likely he’d be staggering and drunk. I pulled the lever, releasing the hood’s latch. Then I tried to pretend like I didn’t see the angry bitch giving me the death-stare while Clay fiddled with the car’s motor.
I opened my door both to allow some air to flow (it was getting hotter than fucking hades in there) and to facilitate communication with Clay, since I couldn’t open the window without starting the car.
“Okay, try it now,” he shouted.
I turned the key and held my breath.
No deal.
“Now.”
I tried.
The car failed.
Clay pulled the hood closed and circled around to my open door. “Looks like you need a new starter. Do you need a ride back to the ranch?”
I did. But…shit. Did I really have to accept a ride from Clay and his latest screw?
What did I do to deserve this? What?
My life sucked.
Defeated, I nodded.
Amber gave me a look so icy I swore the air around her froze. But what could I do? The ranch was at least ten miles outside of town. I didn’t feel like taking a three hour hike down pitch-black country roads alone. Not with all the bobcats and bear out here.
“Come on,” Clay said, “my truck’s parked around the corner.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled, watching Amber grab his hand and fall into step beside him. Wasn’t this lovely? I adored being the third wheel, especially when I was getting my face rubbed in the fact that the guy in question was the one I’d just fucked.
Our sweet little threesome rounded the corner and I grimaced. Clay’s truck wasn’t huge. It didn’t have an extended cab. And the front bench seat didn’t exactly hold three adults comfortably. Not to mention, I didn’t want to sit next to Amber, with her bitch-face still in full bloom. No. I’d rather sit in the bed. Even though it reminded me of last night.
Had it really been just one night?
Clay tried to act all galant and opened the passenger side door. “Morgan?”
I glanced at Amber. No. Just… no. I was not sitting between Clay and Amber. “I’ll take the back,” I stepped aside to let his date take the seat of honor.
Clay blocked the door. “No, you will not ride in the bed.”
“But…” I hooked my thumb toward the visibly furious Amber. “Someone else called dibs on that spot.”
“No, she didn’t,” he insisted, not even glancing at his date.
“Yes, I did,” Amber snapped. ”I’m not fucking riding in the bed. It’ll mess up my hair. And there isn’t enough room for three of us in there.” She pointed at the cab.
“Which is why you aren’t going.” Moving quickly, and catching me by surprise, he grabbed my shoulder and gave it a little shove, toward the truck. “Let’s go.”
“But…” I said over my shoulder. I reached up and stepped on the running board. And within seconds strong hands were at my waist, lifting me. I plopped onto the seat, tingles sweeping up and down my body.
Amber looked like her head was about to explode. “What the hell, Clay? Are you ditching me?”
“Yes.” Voice calm and cool, Clay circled the front of the truck.
“But! Why?” she screeched, tailing him, teetering on her stupid heels.
“Because,”Clay said, his trademark panty-melting smile spreading across his face, ”I’ve been trying to find a polite way to say goodnight to you all evening. And now I’ve found my chance.”
Amber skrieked a string of curse words that would make a hardened criminal blush while he got into his truck and started it.
I watched the spectacle, finding myself feeling a little sorry for her. After all, she was being left in the lurch. That sucked. Been there. Done that. And, although she’d treated me like scum, my beef wasn’t with her. It was with Clay, who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Or didn’t want to. Either way, he was a bastard.
“Don’t worry about Amber,” The bastard said as he steered the truck onto the road. “She lives behind the pub. She doesn’t need a ride home.”
That revelation eased my guilt somewhat. Now I could get back to being angry with Clay. Last night had there been any talk of exclusivity or commitment? No. And didn’t I basically tell him to fuck off earlier? Yes. But did I expect to see him hooking up with someone else already? “I’m sorry if I ruined your plans for the night,” I snapped.
“You didn’t ruin anything.”
The truck rolled to a stop at a stop sign and Clay looked at me. Our gazes caught. The air in the truck sparked with electricity.
No. No, no, no. I was not going to let myself get caught up in the moment again. Not after what happened last night. I yanked my gaze away and stared out the window at nothing. Out there, the world was dark and quiet, the velvet sky dotted with stars.
Neither of us said a word the entire way back to the ranch. It was awkward. Seriously. But I still appreciated the ride. As his truck’s wheels crunched up the gravel driveway, he said, “I have a friend who can fix your car tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” I could not wait another second to get out. I grabbed the handle, and still avoiding looking at him, I said, “Just let me know what the cost is—“
“There won’t be any cost.”
“But there has to be some cost. For parts.” Shit. He was going to insist on helping me. I couldn’t let that happen. I glared and said, “I will pay.”
“He owes me.” Clay shifted the truck into park, twisted to his right and placed an arm on the back of the bench. My nerves got all twitchy. My body warmed.
I scooted closer to the door and tightened my grip on the handle. “Thank you for the ride. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I blurted. I yanked on the handle. The door didn’t open.
“This gives me a chance to talk to you. About last night—“
“I’ve had the day from hell,” I interrupted, jerking the handle again, “I really don’t want to get into that now.” I smacked the door. Why the fuck wouldn’t it open?
“I don’t give a shit whether you do or don’t. You’re in my truck. So we’re going to talk about it.”
That was it. I’d had it. I didn’t give a damn that Clay had just drove me home so I wouldn’t have to walk. Or that he knew someone who could fix my shitty car for free. I was furious. And he was going to know it.
My heart was pounding in my head, waves of anger blasting through me. “Fine. I’ll talk.” Glaring, I let it rip, holding nothing back, “You, Clay Walker, are an asshole, and last night was the second biggest mistake of my life. The first, of course, being the first time we fucked. I promise there will not be a third time. From this point on, you are my employee and I am your employer. I think you’ll agree that’s the best for everywone. Thank you for the ride. I’ll see you in the morning. Good bye.” Twisting away from him, I pounded on the door with my fist. “Now, let me out of this piece of shit.”
He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as I stared out the window and silently fumed. Finally, he got out, loped around the front of the truck, and opened the door for me.
Avoiding eye contact, I made a beeline for the house and didn’t breathe until I was safely locked ins
ide.
That man made me feel things I didn’t want to feel. He made me angry. He made me jealous. He made me uncomfortable. And yet he made my heart race and my skin tingle.
Five years? Did I really have to deal with this for five years? There had to be a way out. If not, I was going to lose my freaking mind.
And that led to my next question. Why would my aunt put such an unfair condition on my inheritance? I’d known her all my life. She wasn’t like that. She didn’t play games.
