by Susan Stoker
As a shiver rippled across her body, she fingered her grandmother’s locket at her throat. If the shooter’s aim had been a little more to the right, Nash might have been killed.
His arm tightened around her. “Are you cold?”
“No.” For a moment, she pressed her cheek to his chest then she pushed up enough to look into his eyes. “But I need to get ready to work at the saloon tonight.”
“Or you could call Audrey and tell her you can’t make it.”
Phoebe bit down on her bottom lip. “Remember, she hurt herself last night. If I don’t show up, she might decide she needs to be there and rip a stitch or something.”
Nash leaned up and kissed the tip of her nose. “Then you’d better get ready. You can have the first shower.”
“I have a better idea.” She rolled off the bed, took his hand and tipped her head toward the door. “Why don’t we shower together?”
With a grin spreading across his face, Nash leaped out of the bed, snatched a second condom from his wallet and hurried for the door. He opened it and stuck out his head. “Beckett? Kinsey?”
No one answered.
“Come on.” Holding her hand, he led her across the hall to the bathroom.
Phoebe smothered a giggle and closed the door behind them. Once in the shower, the giggles continued as she chased the bar of soap around, bumped into all parts of Nash and sloshed water all over the floor. In between playing, they made love again.
Nash lifted her up, wrapped her legs around his waist and braced her against the cool tiled wall. Nothing could chill the heat from her body, not when Nash sheathed himself and drove deep inside her. She’d never felt so incredible. As Nash thrust into her, Phoebe shot into the heavens on the best orgasm she’d ever experienced.
He held her there, buried deep inside until they both returned to earth under the cooling spray of the shower. Nash eased her to her feet, rinsed her body, and then shut off the water.
Phoebe rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. He held her wet body against his. She loved his hard, muscular chest and the steely strength of his arms.
As much as she’d rather go right back to bed with Nash, Phoebe had a promise to keep. She reached for a towel and dried Nash’s body as he dried hers. More laughter ensued until they stood dry and breathless.
“Hey, everything okay in there?” a deep voice called out.
Gaze narrowed, Nash pressed a finger to her lips. “I’m fine. Just fine.”
Phoebe kissed his finger, swallowing another giggle. Who knew making love could be so much fun?
“I’m not worried about you. I’m concerned about the woman you’re holding prisoner in there,” Beckett said. “Knock three times if you’re being held against your will.”
Phoebe gasped and answered, “I’m fine, too.”
“Good,” Beckett said with a chuckle. “I was afraid I’d have to call the cops on my cop brother.”
“Jerk.” Nash shook his head, a smile pulling at his lips.
“Damn right,” Becket returned. “One of us has to keep a level head. As the oldest, I feel like it’s my responsibility.”
Nash rolled his eyes. “We’re going to the Ugly Stick again tonight, if you and Kinsey want to join us.”
“I think we’ll pass on the saloon. Shower sex sounds like more fun.”
“Beckett!” Kinsey cried out. “You don’t have to announce our plans to the world.”
“You mean our plans to have sex in the shower?” Beckett laughed out loud. A loud smacking sound followed. “Ouch! You didn’t have to hit me that hard.”
“Quit crying, baby. And leave those two alone.”
“I take it Phoebe’s not changing her mind about getting married since the groom is apparently dead.” Beckett’s voice moved away from the door. “Oh, by the way, in case you haven’t heard, they found the car and the body in the trunk.”
Nash wrapped a towel around his waist and yanked open the door. “What did you say?”
Gasping, Phoebe tucked a towel around her body and leaned around Nash to see Beckett and Kinsey standing in the hallway.
Beckett nodded. “Got your attention, finally.” He tipped his head toward Kinsey. “We were in the diner when Sheriff Olson got the call.”
“Where did they find it?” Nash asked.
“In the old gravel quarry east of town. That poor car is completely totaled. From what the sheriff said, whoever stole it ripped up every seat and tore out the door panels and headlining. Then, they burned it.”
Phoebe reeled backward, the blood rushing from her head into the pit of her belly.
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“You would probably know if you’d answered your phone.” Beckett’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “Of course, answering your phone when you’re having sex in the shower with a beautiful woman can be difficult.”
Kinsey backhanded Beckett in the belly. “You’ve teased them enough.”
Beckett winked at Nash. “That’s my cue to shut up and put up.”
Kinsey took his hand and led him toward the master suite, calling out over her shoulder, “If you need us, you know where you can find us.”
Nash waited until Beckett and Kinsey disappeared behind the master suite door before leading Phoebe back to the bedroom across the hallway. As soon as she crossed the threshold, Phoebe clutched her belly, a sick, awful feeling forming. “If they have the body, they now have reason to take me in on suspicion of murder.” She turned to face him. “Oh, my God. Nash, you just made love with a potential murder suspect. What will happen to you? What will we do?”
Nash’s gut tightened. He didn’t give a damn that Phoebe’s dead fiancé had shown up. Deep down, he knew Phoebe didn’t have a mean bone in her body. She couldn’t have killed the man, and she sure as hell couldn’t have stuffed his body in the trunk. “What we’re doing is continuing on as though nothing happened. You’re going to work at the Ugly Stick and I’ll go along to keep you safe. Just like the sheriff ordered.” He tipped his head toward her towel. “You might want to put on some clothes. I know they prefer the girls show some skin, but you’re a little underdressed even for the Ugly Stick standards.”
Phoebe yanked off her towel and popped him with it.
He tackled her on the bed and ended the argument with a deep, soul-wrenching kiss. When he finally came up for air, he wanted nothing more than to remain in the bed, making love to Phoebe through the night.
She stared up into his eyes. “What happens next?”
He knew she wasn’t asking about getting dressed and going to work. “Let the sheriff decide. They will probably take me off the case due to conflict of interest.”
She curled her fingers around his arms. “Will the sheriff remove you from bodyguard duty?”
“He might.” Nash rose from the bed and held out his hand. Not that he’d obey an order to stand down from his duties as bodyguard to Phoebe. He couldn’t imagine leaving her unprotected, or entrusting her safety to someone else.
Phoebe placed hers in his and let him pull her to her feet.
Nash enveloped her in his embrace and held her naked body against his, his cock nudging her belly, ready for another round of lovemaking. “We’ll figure out this thing.”
Nestling close, she wrapped her arms around his waist. “I hope so.” Then she straightened and smiled, though her lips appeared a little tight and strained. “Right now, I’d better get dressed for the Ugly Stick.” Phoebe pulled on the cut-off denim shorts and tank top she’d worn earlier and the cowboy boots she’d found at the thrift shop.
While she ran a brush through her damp, auburn curls, Nash dressed in his jeans and pulled on his boots. By the time he was ready, she was standing at the door, her hand on the doorknob.
“Just so you know, just because we engaged in…” Her cheeks burned a bright red as she glanced around the room, as if searching for the right word.
“Lovemaking?”
Her gaze anchored on his
. “Sex.” She pushed back her shoulders. “You’re not in any way under any obligation to me.”
He stiffened. “Is this your way of giving me the brush-off?”
Her eyes widened. “On the contrary. I’m giving you permission to walk away. No strings attached.”
Fighting anger at her dismissal, he closed the distance and pulled her into his arms. “I’d rather have your permission to take you on a date. To get to know you better.”
She snorted softly. “I’d say you know me better already than any of my family.” She rested a hand on his chest. “I just don’t want you to ruin your reputation with a murder suspect. You deserve better than that.”
“And you deserve to live your life as you see fit.”
“If I’m arrested, I might have to get my father to bail me out of this mess. Without him, I don’t have access to the best lawyers money can buy.”
“Hopefully, the situation won’t come to that.” He tried to pull her close to kiss her one more time.
Her hand on his chest firmed, and she held him off. “Promise me you won’t let anyone know we had a fling. I couldn’t bear it if you were dragged into this mess.”
“Only if you promise to go out with me when the dust settles.” He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, loving how soft and silky it felt. He didn’t like that Phoebe was trying to protect him, when he was supposed to be protecting her.
“Deal.” She held out her hand.
He took it in his and shook before lifting it to his lips. “You’re an amazing woman, Phoebe. Don’t disappear on me when I’m just getting to know you.” Nash pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. With a slight tug, he pulled her against him and claimed her mouth in one last, desperate kiss. Something inside him told him it might be just that. The last kiss.
They left the house and climbed into his truck, heading for the county line where the Ugly Stick Saloon sat at the convergence of three counties. The parking lot was filled and overflowing with pickup trucks, SUVs and dusty cowboys.
Nash walked Phoebe past the rowdy bunch of men there to celebrate after a hard, hot day at the rodeo.
They entered through the front door, and Greta Sue, the bouncer built like a freight train, stepped in front of them. “Is that a banana in your pocket, or you just glad to see me?”
Nash leaned close and opened his jacket enough for Greta Sue to see the Glock tucked in a shoulder holster. “On duty, Greta Sue,” he whispered.
Her eyes narrowed. “I heard about the shooting earlier today.” Her gaze shifted to Phoebe. “Glad you’re taking care of our girl.” She stepped aside, allowing them to proceed.
Phoebe’s lips curled into a smile, her eyes filling with tears.
“What’s wrong?” Nash asked.
“Nothing. Everything’s great.” She glanced up at him, letting her smile spread across her face. “For the first time in my life, I just feel like I belong. It’s a good feeling.”
Nash’s heart squeezed in his chest at the look of joy on Phoebe’s face. She must have led a pretty lonely life in the city, despite all the people around her. Well, not anymore. She was one of them now.
Once inside, Phoebe went right to work, carrying trays of drinks to thirsty patrons.
Nash stood against the wall and waited for a seat at the bar to open, his gaze darting between the bar and Phoebe as she wove her way through the tables and cowboy boots, smiling and happy serving others. He could hardly believe she was the daughter of a multi-millionaire. She wasn’t at all concerned about serving others or breaking a nail. She wasn’t above the cowboys in their worn jeans and scuffed boots. She wore second-hand clothes and was damn proud to have them.
“She’s doing great,” a voice said beside him.
He turned to face Audrey, wearing a white blouse, a pair of jeans and her signature red cowboy boots with metal studs. “I thought you would be home with your leg up, babying your stitches.”
“I had to do some fancy talking to get Jackson to bring me. I told him I was uncomfortable lying down and standing was better. I also promised not to stay too long.” She spread her hands wide. “As you can see, they don’t need me anyway.”
“They will always need you, sweetheart.” Jackson joined them. “You’re what makes this place so great.”
“Damn right she is,” Nash agreed.
Audrey’s face reddened. “Thanks.”
For another minute, the three of them stood in silence. Nash couldn’t take his gaze from Phoebe. Something about the way she moved mesmerized him and made him count the minutes until he could get her back to the ranch house and in his bed. He hadn’t been looking for a woman to share his life, and he never thought the runaway bride he’d found on the road into Hellfire would be the one for him, but now…
“She’s a beautiful woman, our Phoebe,” Audrey said. “And she fits right in at the Ugly Stick. She’s smart, quick on her feet and has such a welcoming smile.” The owner of the saloon bumped shoulders with Nash. “You like her, don’t you?”
Nash stiffened. Were his feelings for Phoebe that obvious? “She’s okay.”
“You wouldn’t be hanging around so much, if you didn’t.” Audrey persisted.
He didn’t tell her what he knew about Phoebe and that Sheriff Olson had assigned him to protect the socialite.
“You don’t have to tell me anything about Phoebe, I have my sources.” Audrey crossed both arms over her chest. “You’d never guess she was the daughter of the Dallas millionaire Jonathon Sinclair.” Her smile faded, and she laid a hand on Nash’s arm. “I also know someone is after her, and that someone fired on you two earlier today. I’m glad neither of you were hurt.”
Nash shot a glance down at Audrey. “She almost didn’t come to work tonight, because she was afraid she’d bring trouble to the saloon.”
“I’m glad she came. I can’t get around easily to help out. Enough people are in the place that I doubt the shooter would try to get to her here.”
“Come on, darlin’,” Jackson said. “Let’s get you off your feet. The doctor won’t be happy if he finds out you came to work.”
Audrey frowned and rubbed the sides of her jeans. “I guess you’re right. My stitches are rubbing against the denim.”
Jackson winked. “Let’s get you home and naked where you can heal properly.”
Her eyes lit, and she turned into her husband’s arms. “Or we could get naked in the storeroom and count whiskey bottles or whatever else you had in mind.”
The pair was notorious for getting it on in the storeroom. After being together for a couple years and having a baby, they still acted like newlyweds who couldn’t get enough of each other.
Nash fought the grin threatening to spread across his face as Audrey led Jackson to the storeroom.
Shaking his head, Jackson protested, “We need to take this home where you don’t have to get dressed afterward.”
“Come on, big guy. I can’t wait that long.” Audrey didn’t look back, tugging him by the hand to the back of the building.
Nash’s attention returned to Phoebe who was waving from the bar. A stool had opened, and she sat in it to keep someone else from taking over. Hurrying across the floor, he arrived in time to kiss her soundly for saving him a spot.
Then she was back on the floor with a tray full of mugs and whiskey shooters.
“Hey.”
A commotion at the entrance made Nash rise from his seat, his hand on the gun tucked beneath his jacket. Two men in dark suits lifted Greta Sue by her arms and physically moved her out of the way.
Then a loud, booming voice called out over the music and laughter, “Phoebe Sinclair!”
The band stopped playing, and every gaze turned toward the man bellowing like a bull in a field full of heifers.
“Phoebe Sinclair, I will have words with you, young lady.”
Nash shot a glance toward Phoebe as the tray she’d been carrying tilted sideways and the empty mugs and bottles slipped off, landing with a cras
h on the floor.
She stood still, her face losing all its color, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. “Daddy?”
Chapter Twelve
‡
Phoebe heard her father’s voice, and her knees wobbled and the tray she’d been carrying tilted. Before she could do anything to stop gravity from taking its due, everything she’d been carrying crashed to the floor. She spun to face the angry face of her father, the well-known entrepreneur and multi-millionaire, Jonathon Sinclair. “Daddy?”
“Phoebe Rochelle Sinclair, what the hell do you mean by running out on your wedding with a church packed full of people?”
Every face turned from her father toward her.
If she could have, she would have sunk through the floor. But she couldn’t, and she’d never have her independence if she didn’t stand up to her father and make her own wishes known. Stiffening her spine, she tilted her chin high. “I can’t marry Ryan.”
“After all the money I spent on the ceremony and all the people we invited to watch my only daughter marry, why the hell not?” His words shook the timbers holding up the metal roof over their heads.
“For one…I never loved him.” Her gaze turned of its own accord to the tall man standing at the bar, his hand inside his jacket, ready to take on anyone who threatened her. Including her father.
Nash’s jaw was set in a tight line and his brows dipped low over narrowed eyes.
Just his being there gave Phoebe the strength she needed to confront her overbearing father. She faced the man who’d raised her. “And for the second reason, Ryan’s dead.” For the first time in her life, Phoebe saw surprise on her father’s face.
“Dead? What do you mean dead?”
“As in no longer breathing.”
“You killed your fiancé?” Her father ran a hand through his hair, a frown pressing his bushy brows together. Then he straightened to his full, intimidating height of six feet four inches. “I’ll hire the best defense team the world has seen since the O.J. Simpson trials. It had to be self-defense. What did that man do to you?”
