Texas Thunder

by Kimberly Raye

  Callie’s head snapped up and her gaze met her sister’s. “How do you know that?”

  Brandy reached beneath the table and pulled out a small drinking glass filled with the telltale gold liquid.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “From the Mason jar on your nightstand. The one I gave to Mark Edwards when he stopped by looking for you.” Brandy swirled the liquid and watched the bubbly funnel that developed. “He said he made it to town early and he was so excited about this stuff that he couldn’t wait until your meeting this afternoon.” She set the glass down on the table. “He stopped by on the off chance that he might catch you here. He caught me instead and filled me in on what Gramps was doing, and how you’ve been trying to find the rest of the recipe. He didn’t say it, but I’m assuming you’re killing yourself working with Brett Sawyer, the one man you hate above all, for a good reason. I just don’t know what it is.” Her gaze narrowed. “Yet.”

  “I don’t hate Brett.” If only, but that ship had sailed long ago and now she was drowning in a sea of desire with no lifeline in sight. “He’s an alright guy.”

  “You’re avoiding the issue.”

  “Which is?”

  “Why are you killing yourself?”

  She wasn’t going to tell Brandy. That was Callie’s first thought. She would make something up and keep Brandy in the dark. But her sister looked relentless and Callie had never been a good liar. “We need the money.”

  “Why?”

  “Because James Harlin spent the tax money and now I’ve got six weeks to come up with it.” She tore her gaze from her sister’s and busied herself filling a glass with water. “Four now that two have already passed.”

  “When did you find out?”

  “The day before the funeral.” She felt the telltale burning behind her eyes, and blinked away the sudden moisture the way she always did. “I guess the bank heard about his death and figured they needed to send an official notification.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you’ve got enough on your plate with the bakery. You don’t have time to worry about this.”

  “I’ll make time.”

  “No, you won’t, because I’m handling this.” Her gaze went to the glass and the few inches of liquid. The scent of apple pie mingled with something much stronger teased her nostrils. “Why did you keep some?”

  “Because my new assistant has the palate of a Michelin star pastry chef. With her taste buds and my knowledge of ingredients, we might be able to figure out what’s in this stuff.”

  “You mean if it’s even the right stuff. Brett and I found it in his attic. It could be any shine from here to Arkansas. We have no proof it’s the Texas Thunder.”

  “You’ll know eventually. Edwards said he’s handing it off to his guy, but it could take up to four weeks for them to get to the sample. He’s trying to move it along, but he’s calling in a favor of a friend of a friend, so he’s not at the top of the priority list. That means we have to wait. I just figured that maybe Ellie could cut down on the wait time. If her results match the recipe, there’s a good chance this is the real stuff. At least then you can stop worrying and destroying innocent cupcakes.”

  “I don’t want you to worry about this.”

  “Why? I’m a big girl. I can handle the worry. I learned from the best.” Her smile disappeared. “You were always there, Callie. Killing yourself for us. Sacrificing. You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll do what I can to help. My oven is paid for. So are my mixers. I could try for a secured loan on all of it. I don’t know how much that will be, but it’s enough to put a small dent in what we owe.”

  “But you need that money for an extra oven.”

  “The oven can wait. I’m okay for now. I’d rather hand the money over for this.”

  “But I don’t want—”

  “It’s not about what you want,” Brandy cut in. “I live here, too.” A stern expression slid over her face. “And I’m going to help.”

  “What about Jenna? Did you tell her?”

  “She has enough to worry about with stalker Alex. Besides, she’s barely making her car payment. She can’t help now. But one day…” She grinned. “When she has her own veterinary practice and is raking in the cash, we’ll call in a return on the favor. Right now, we can handle this. Together.”

  Callie wanted to believe her sister, but she’d been going it alone for so long that she wasn’t so sure she could stop. She still felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, pushing her down, pulling her in a million different directions. Even so, she hugged Brandy, holding her tight for a few long moments and relishing the warmth of her sister’s embrace.

  And thinking of how she was going to miss it when she finally left Rebel behind for good.

  * * *

  After her talk with Brandy, Callie fed Jez and the other foster animals before jumping into the shower. She meant to wash away the feel of Brett’s touch, but it only served to heighten her awareness. Her skin tingled as the water washed over her. Her nerves vibrated with the slick feel of the soap.

  She pulled on a T-shirt and jeans and tried to pretend that tonight was just like any other night. Strictly business.

  But her body knew better.

  The drive out to Bootleg Bayou seemed to take even longer and by the time she rang the doorbell, she all but trembled with anticipation.

  A feeling that soon subsided when Brett’s sister answered the door.

  “He’s already up in the attic.” Karen pointed toward the staircase and Callie headed up to find Brett smack dab in the middle of unpacking a giant box.

  “You’re late,” he called out. “I’ve already gone through three boxes.”

  “I had to drop some things off at the office. I talked to Mark Edwards.” She spent the next few minutes filling him in on the plan for getting the shine analyzed. “Bottom line, we still need to find the recipe.”

  He pointed to a nearby stack. “Have at it.”

  No kissing. No hugging. No touching of any kind.

  Not that they needed to kiss or hug or touch right now. They needed to work first and play later.

  If they even played at all.

  A doubt that grew with each passing hour as they dug through boxes and searched with renewed vigor.

  “Your pappy seems really good today,” she finally said, eager to get a conversation going so that she didn’t have to think about how good he looked, or how intoxicating he smelled. “I could hear him humming from the den when Karen let me in.”

  “He’s actually having a great week. I think he may have gotten over the worst,” Brett said, pulling out a stack of old encyclopedias packed away in a large cardboard box.

  “Is he taking some new sort of medication?”

  He shook his head and pulled out a thesaurus. “Everything’s the same.”

  “Then it’s most likely just temporary.” What the hell was she doing? If Brett Sawyer wanted to hide from the truth and pretend that everything was fine, she should just let him be. Play along and keep her mouth shut. But at that moment, she sensed the unease that lurked just below the surface. The fear. And she had to say something.

  “I know you want to think that everything is going to be fine.” She set the doilies she’d found back inside the drawer and pushed it closed. “But it’s not. Pappy has Alzheimer’s. It’s a serious condition that only gets worse. Pretending that it isn’t that bad doesn’t help anyone, least of all Pappy.” And least of all Brett, himself.

  It just set him up for a bigger disappointment when the man finally took a turn for the worse, and never came back.

  And he would. That was inevitable.

  “I’m no doctor, but I know there’s no cure. I know you don’t want to hear that, but it’s true. The sooner you admit that to yourself, the better.”

  “I’m not giving up hope.”

  “It’s not about hope. It’s about fear. You’re scared.” His only reply was a sharp glance t
hat said more than words ever could. “You don’t want to accept the truth because you think you’re letting your pappy down. That you’re giving up on him. You’re not.”

  “Leave it alone, Callie.” Warning edged his words and if she’d had an ounce of sense, she would have heeded it.

  But she was past the point of backing down. As much as she didn’t want to care for Brett, to feel something more than just the lust whispering through her body and licking at her veins, she did.

  He was her first love.

  Her only love.

  The truth hit her as she sat on her knees and reached for the next drawer. She unearthed several photo books filled with pictures of him as a child. Brett riding his first pony. Brett roping his first calf. Brett eating a giant cupcake at his sixth birthday. Brett nailing his first deer.

  Happiness radiated from his young face and something squeezed at her heart and stirred a protective urge unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

  For the boy he’d been.

  The man he’d become.

  She didn’t want to see him hurt or disappointed or devastated because he refused to see the gravity of Pappy’s condition. While he might hate her for pointing out the obvious, she knew she had to try, to pave the way and soften the blow that would eventually come.

  She turned on him. “Aren’t you tired of running away?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That you’ve been running your entire life. Away from here. From your past. From your pappy.”

  “I didn’t run from Pappy.”

  She caught his stare and refused to look away. “You’re running right now.”

  “That’s crazy.” He motioned at his surroundings. “I’m here.”

  “Instead of accepting the truth,” she went on despite the tight draw of his mouth and the sudden narrowing of his gaze, “you’re hauling ass away from it. From him.” She could feel the tension that swelled in the room, filling up every nook and cranny. She gathered her determination. “You need to stop. To face it. For your own good.”

  Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

  The voice whispered through her, reminding her of the stack of Reader’s Digests and the tubes of Bengay and the truth sitting in that small den. One that she refused to accept, let alone admit.

  That despite James Harlin’s bad behavior and his bad decisions and his countless flaws, she’d loved him.

  “I miss him.” The words were out before she could stop them.

  Brett’s anger seemed to falter. Surprise lit up his gaze. “Who?”

  “My grandfather.” She caught her bottom lip for a long moment as the past welled. “He was a sorry SOB, that’s for sure, but I actually miss him. I never thought I would, but there it is.” Her gaze met his. “I’ve been trying to convince myself otherwise. I didn’t want to miss him because he never did one single thing to deserve it. But I know now that denial is even worse than regret. It’s not about him. It’s about me.” She touched a hand to her heart. “My peace of mind. Me. I need to miss him, just like you need to accept what’s happening to your pappy. Because if you don’t, the fear will chew you up now, and the regret will swallow you whole later.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, he just stared at her, as if trying to decide something. “There’s only one thing I need,” he finally said, pushing the box aside. He closed the distance between them until he stood right in front of her, filling up her line of vision and drinking in all of her oxygen. “And it’s not peace of mind.”

  “I think we should keep looking.” That’s what she said, but she couldn’t ignore the gleam in his gaze or the heat that crackled between them. She reached for the next drawer but he stopped her.

  “I need this.” He took her hand, his strong fingers closing around hers, and pulled her to her feet. His arm slid around her waist and he pulled her flush against his body. “I need you.”

  CHAPTER 28

  “I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Callie murmured when Brett led her out to the barn. “What if Karen comes looking for you? Or Dolly?”

  “They’ll call my cell,” Brett told her. He walked past the horse stalls, to the small office that sat at the far end. “The sofa pulls out into a bed,” he said once they’d walked inside and he’d shut the door.

  Before she could open her mouth and voice another protest, he pulled her close and then he was kissing her again, deeply, desperately. His tongue tangled with hers, exploring every secret and her breath caught.

  I need you.

  Even if he hadn’t already told her as much, she would have felt it. A sense of urgency drove him as he tossed the sofa cushions to the side and pulled out the mattress. Grabbing a blanket from a nearby shelf, he tossed it on the bed and turned toward her.

  Another fierce kiss and he backed her up toward the edge of the bed. Her legs hit and she tumbled backward. A split second later, he tossed her boots to the floor and peeled the jeans down her body. He grabbed the edge of her T-shirt and pulled it up and over her head until she sat there wearing nothing but her bra and panties.

  He stepped back then and kicked off his boots. Catching the hem of his shirt, he peeled the soft cotton free and tossed it to the side. His hand dove into his pocket and he pulled out a condom. He unbuttoned his jeans then and shoved them down, freeing a massive erection.

  Her breath caught and she pushed up onto her feet. Driven by her own need, she reached out and took the latex. Tearing open the package, she eased the contents over the ripe head of his smooth, pulsing shaft, from tip to root.

  A growl vibrated from his throat and she glanced up to see him staring down at her, watching, waiting. He pulsed in her hands and she trembled with a renewed hunger.

  She wanted to kiss him again, but even more, she wanted to feel him inside, to be so consumed that she didn’t have to think. To worry the way she had for the past few hours.

  That this might be their last time.

  The end would come eventually. They both knew it, and it fueled the heat charging the air.

  She spread her legs and waited as he settled between her thighs. The head of his penis pushed a delicious fraction into her and pleasure pierced her brain. Sensation swept along her skin like a fiery tongue that sucked the oxygen from her lungs and left her light-headed.

  She lifted her legs and hooked them around his waist, opening her body even more. He answered her silent invitation with a deep, probing thrust.

  Her muscles convulsed around him, clutching him as he gripped her buttocks and tilted her a delicious inch so that he could fit more deeply inside.

  She lifted her hips, moving her pelvis, riding him until he gasped and started to pump. Deeper. Harder. There.

  Right … there.

  Her lips parted. A scream ripped from her lips as the blinding force of her climax crashed over her and yanked her back under. She gasped and clutched at his shoulders, holding tight.

  He came right behind her, burying himself one last time. His jaw clenched and the tendons in his neck stretched tight. A moan tumbled from his lips and echoed in her ears.

  Brett collapsed on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck for the next few moments until he rolled to the side and pulled her back against him, his heart pounding between her shoulder blades. One hand settled on her breast and the other held her tightly around the waist as if he feared she might disappear at any moment.

  As if the notion bothered him a hell of a lot more than it should have considering he knew good and well she was leaving Rebel.

  The possibility stirred a rush of pure joy, followed by a burst of panic that had her scrambling from the bed and snatching up clothes.

  No way was he falling in love with her the way she’d fallen for him. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

  She was this close to being free of Rebel. The last thing she needed was another reason to stay. Brett falling in love with her, admitting that love, would be like a noose arou
nd her neck.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s just … I have to get out of here.” She yanked on her clothes and snatched up her boots.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called after her, but she didn’t answer.

  Because even more frightening than the notion that he might have fallen for her, too, was the opposite side of the coin—that he might not care at all.

  She’d tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter, that she could keep things strictly physical between the two of them, but she couldn’t. She loved him and he didn’t love her, and it hurt like hell.

  And that meant it was time to call it quits.

  * * *

  She would be back.

  That’s what Brett told himself as he listened to the steady thud of Callie’s footsteps. In a matter of seconds, they disappeared and he was left with only the frantic beat of his own heart to kill the oppressive silence.

  The deep-seated panic that told him something was wrong and he’d better reach out and hold on tight or she was going to slip right through his fingers.

  But then that was the point of it all. To work her out of his system so that he could let her go.

  He would let her go.

  Just not yet.

  There was still too much heat between them, not to mention they had a recipe to find. Tomorrow night they would pick up where they’d left off. They would keep searching for the Texas Thunder ingredients, and then when they both grew tired and restless, he would lay her down and work her out of his system once and for all.

  That was the plan.

  A damned good one, too.

  Brett pushed to his feet and pulled on his clothes. He debated heading back inside the main house, but it was still early and he was too worked up to go to bed and much too antsy to sit and have a conversation with his sister. Particularly one that would end with his insistence she go back to school and her stubborn refusal.

  She was going back.

  Pappy was on the mend and Brett was getting the finances in order and so there was no reason for Karen to forfeit her future.

  She was going back to school, all right.