“Possibly.” Of course, that meant she’d just confessed her mother’s sexual escapades, but it was better for him to hear it from her than from someone else. “But as he said, it doesn’t matter. I had a father. A good one. And I don’t need another one.”
Roman glanced at her as if trying to decide if that was true. Part of it was. She didn’t need another father like Waylon, anyway, but she was still holding out hope for Billy Lee.
“We should go to the school and show the video to Principal Morgan,” Mila suggested. Though Waylon was almost certainly on the phone with the man to put his own spin on the situation. Hard to spin the truth, though, when it was right in someone’s face.
“I can do it,” Roman said. “You should probably go home and have a drink or something.” He took her hand and lifted it to show her how much she was trembling.
She nodded because he was right. Besides, Roman was Tate’s father, and he should be the one handling this.
Roman got out, went to the driver’s side and motioned for her to move to the passenger’s seat. She did because she really didn’t want to drive while her nerves were unsteady.
“I’ll drop you off at your house,” he said. “Then Tate and I can go to the school. When we’re done, I’ll have someone from the ranch pick us up and bring you back your car.” He paused. “Maybe later we can talk.”
He meant talk about the I’m in love with you. It wasn’t something Mila especially wanted to discuss, but maybe by the time Roman had finished with the principal, she would figure out what to say to him.
It would possibly involve a lie or two.
Roman had barely made it out of the parking lot when there were dinging sounds on both Roman’s and her phones. They’d both gotten a text message only a few moments apart. Probably some kind of threat from Waylon.
Mila looked at the screen almost afraid of what she might see. But it wasn’t from Waylon.
It was from Belle.
“Tired to cell roaming but no answer so am testing,” she read aloud.
“Tried to call Roman but no answer so I’m texting,” Roman interpreted. “Mom’s not good at texts.” He pulled over and took out his own phone. “She sent me the same message.”
He stopped, froze, and Mila knew why. It was because he read the rest of what Belle had messaged.
I decided to have sax with Billy Lee so were on the way to Vegas now to get merry. See you tomorrow.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NORMALLY, A HARD ride into the pastures helped Roman clear his head. But not this time. Of course, that was asking a lot out of a ride because there was way too much in his head to clear.
He didn’t even want to think of his mother just yet. Maybe she truly had meant merry and not marry, but even if she hadn’t, that wasn’t his rodeo. Billy Lee was a decent guy, and even if Belle was rushing into this, it wouldn’t be a big mistake.
Unlike the one Roman had made with Mila.
He’d known right from the start it hadn’t been a good idea for him to have sex with her, and now she might have fallen in love with him. Or not. Truth was, he wasn’t sure what was going on in Mila’s head and that was one of the reasons he’d saddled up and gone all the way to the back pasture. He would have stayed out there longer, too, if it hadn’t been getting dark.
Roman led the horse into the barn, automatically glancing at the windows of Tate’s bedroom. The lights were on, and Tate might be doing the homework he said he had. It was just as likely, though, that he was moping—much the way Roman was doing. Unlike him, though, Tate had managed to get that whole locker/vandalism thing straight.
But not without some pushing from Roman.
At first, Principal Morgan had pretty much spouted what Waylon had said—that the video could be Photoshopped, but then Arnie Busby had manned up, called the principal and told him that he’d recorded it.
Morgan hadn’t wanted to believe it, Roman could tell, but in the end the principal’s friendship with Waylon hadn’t overshadowed the fact that Chrissy had committed a malicious act for the sole purpose of getting Tate in trouble. Principal Morgan had suspended Chrissy for three days, told her to pay for damages and write an apology to Tate. She might write it, all right, but Roman figured that the only thing she’d truly be sorry about was that she got caught.
Perhaps this would be the end of it, and Chrissy would steer clear of Tate. And even if she didn’t, there were only another two weeks of school. After that, Tate might never have to see the girl again.
Might.
Tate was already asking if he could stay the summer. That was another thing that had prompted Roman’s ride. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to do about that. And speaking of things he was uncertain about—one of them walked into the barn.
Mila.
“I got your text reminder about wanting to talk to me,” she greeted him.
He had indeed sent her a text. Not one that could be vaguely interpreted like his mother’s. Roman had made this one pretty clear.
We need to talk, he’d texted.
And here she was.
She wasn’t wearing her usual jeans but rather a white summer dress and sandals. His stomach did that flip-flop thing that it’d been doing around her lately, but this time there was more flop than flip. That’s because Roman didn’t think she’d gotten dressed up to come to the barn to chat to him.
“You have a date?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I’m meeting someone just for a drink at the Longhorn. He’s a bull rider from San Antonio.”
Roman automatically scowled and not because he was jealous. It was because most bull riders were half crazy. The others were all the way crazy. “Anyone I know?” As a rodeo promoter, he knew plenty of them.
“Caleb Armstrong.”
Yeah, he knew him, all right, and Caleb was a decent guy. That was good. So, why didn’t it feel good?
“Those dating sites work fast,” he commented.
She shook her head. “Sophie set this one up for me. Caleb and Clay are friends, and since Caleb was in town to see the twins, Sophie thought I should meet him.”
Sophie? Apparently, his sister didn’t have her hands as full with the twins as he’d thought if she was playing matchmaker. And why the hell was Sophie doing that, anyway?
For that matter, why was Mila letting her?
He finished brushing down the horse and led her into a stall while Mila walked into the barn. Clearly, she had something on her mind and wanted to talk before her “date.” Well, Roman had something on his mind, too.
“You said you were in love with me,” he threw out there. “But since you’re doing this—” he motioned toward her clothes “—then that must have been a ploy to keep me from punching Waylon.”
She nodded. “In part.”
Roman huffed and put his hands on his hips when she didn’t add more to that. “In part?” he repeated. “Because being a little bit in love is like being a little bit pregnant.”
“Yes,” she admitted. Mila huffed, too. “Look, neither one of us want me to be feeling what I feel for you, and I’m not stupid. I know when to cut my losses and move on. This drink with Caleb is about moving on. That way, you won’t feel guilty for what happened between us.”
Hell. That actually made sense. Well, it made sense for Mila. She was a nice person who wanted to do the right thing by him. Even if it might not be the right thing for her.
“You’re going out with Caleb to make me feel better,” he grumbled.
Since he suddenly needed a drink, he went into the tack room and came out with two beers he took from the fridge. Garrett didn’t normally keep anything but water in there, but Roman had added the beer since he liked to have one after he finished a ride. He twisted off the tops, handed Mila one and then had a long drink from
his bottle.
She looked at the beer, then at him, and for a moment Roman thought she was going to refuse, but she finally had a sip. Then made a face.
“Sorry,” he said, leaning against the barn wall. “I don’t have any of the Irish cream stuff.”
“It’s okay. I don’t want to drink too much, anyway.”
No. Because she might be planning on doing that with her date.
Roman cursed himself for wanting to ask her to cancel that date. Then he cursed himself for wanting her. It would definitely be sending the wrong message if he kissed her again.
“How’s Tate?” she asked.
“Better.” At least he thought that was true. “He asked if we could stay here for the summer.”
“Is that possible? I mean, with your job?”
“It’s doable.” After all, Sophie ran Granger Western from the ranch, and that business was in Austin. San Antonio wasn’t as far from the ranch as Austin was. “But I’m not sure this is the best place for him. I doubt Chrissy is going to turn angelic, and that means future run-ins with her.”
She made a sound of agreement, had another sip of beer and walked closer. Not over to him exactly, but just a few feet where she sank down onto some stacked hay bales.
“Of course, there are Chrissys everywhere,” she said.
It was true. That still wasn’t a reason to stay. Three more months here would feel a little like putting down roots. Something Roman wasn’t sure he could do even if things were better with his mom.
“There are Waylons everywhere, too,” he pointed out. “Anything on Billy Lee’s DNA test yet?”
“He hasn’t called, but I’m sure it’s back by now. That probably means he doesn’t want to tell me that it’s not a match.”
Yeah, it probably did mean that, and when Mila took the next sip of beer, he got a good look at her eyes in the dim light. This was eating away at her.
“Part of me wishes my mom had never told me,” she added. “And she did warn me that it would mess up my birth father’s life if he found out about me. What she didn’t say was that it would mess up mine, too.”
Hell. It was a dangerous thing to do, but he went to her, sank down and put his arm around her. “This might be one of those things that you just have to accept and move on. If Waylon’s your father, he’s an asshole. Nothing you can do about that.”
“Your father was an asshole, and you left,” she pointed out.
True. He couldn’t deny that. “But I was getting double-whammied from both my mother and him.” Except he had to rethink that. “At least my father didn’t harp on me to marry Valerie the way my mother did.”
“I’ll bet Belle doesn’t feel that way after the stunt Valerie pulled by leaving.” Now, Mila made a sound as if she were rethinking that. “She does know people can have sex without being married, doesn’t she?”
“She knows it, but she doesn’t believe in it.” Which probably meant she was a married woman by now. Roman didn’t mind that part, but he didn’t want the image in his head of Billy Lee and Belle having sex so he pushed it aside.
Pushed it aside and looked at Mila.
At the same moment, she looked at him.
And their eyes locked.
There it was again. That slippery slope of attraction. It was coupled with the worry over her dad situation. Coupled, too, with more worry about Tate. Maybe even him. Not a good combination because it made Roman want to do something to ease that look in her eyes.
Mila pressed the backs of her fingers and part of the beer bottle against his mouth, and that’s when Roman realized he was moving in on her. In fact, he’d been just a very short distance from kissing her.
“If you kiss me,” she said, “I don’t want it to be because you’re feeling sorry for me right now.”
Since that was a part of it—a small part—he pulled back.
“If you kiss me,” Mila went on, “I want it to be for one reason. Because it’s what you really want to do.”
Oh, he really wanted to do it, all right, but that was because of the slippery slope stuff. And because his dick was suddenly in on this. He didn’t just want to kiss her. He suddenly wanted a lot more.
“Another thing,” she said. “Do you honestly intend to stop with just a kiss?”
No, he didn’t, and even though he didn’t say that aloud, Mila nodded in agreement.
“There’s one more time on my three-rule,” he reminded her. “But then, you have that drink date with Caleb. It hardly seems right to have sex with me and then meet him.”
“Good point.” She stood, handed him her beer, and Roman thought that was it, that she was about to walk off.
But instead she took her phone from her pocket and fired off a text.
“The date’s canceled.” She put her phone back in her dress pocket, and in the same motion Mila leaned down and kissed him.
“It’s our last time together like this,” she added. “So, let’s make it count.”
* * *
MILA REFUSED TO regret this even though she had come to see Roman to tell him that she had to do a better job of guarding her heart. But heart-guarding would apparently have to wait a little while longer.
Maybe sex would, too.
She’d gotten so caught up in seeing Roman—specifically, his unbuttoned shirt, damp hair and those scorching eyes—that Mila had forgotten they were in a barn where one of the hands, Alice or a family member could come walking in. There were barn doors, of course, but no way to lock them from the inside.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think about the logistics of this.”
Apparently, Roman had, though. He put the beers on the ground, pulled her out of the open doorway and against the barn wall. And he kissed her. It was one of those kisses that matched the look in his eyes.
Scorching.
And it generated enough heat to light up a small country. It certainly lit her up and rid her of plenty of doubts that this wasn’t doable.
Yes, it was doable. Mila just didn’t know how. After a few more kisses, she didn’t care how as long as it happened.
Roman had a special way of keeping the uncertainties out of her head. He pressed his body against hers, aligning his erection with the notch of her thighs, and he kept kissing her. Wonderful, delicious pressure that she was sorry she had lived so long without. But what really sealed the no-doubts was when he shoved up her dress and slid his hand over the front of her panties.
Yep, no more doubts.
Mila had even forgotten about them being in a place where someone could walk in and see them, but again Roman fixed that. Without breaking the kiss, he hooked his arm around her waist, lifting her, and he carried her into the tack room, which was only a few steps away. He got her inside, used his elbow to shut the door, and then he pinned her against the back of it.
“No lock,” he said.
It took a moment for it to register that if they were against the door, then no one could just come walking in. It took that moment to register because his hand went under her dress again, and this time he didn’t touch the front of her panties. Those clever fingers went into them.
Then into her.
He touched her. Kissed her. And he touched some more.
Mila got so caught up in all the kissing and touching, but she soon figured out that this was about to come to a quick end for her. That might be Roman’s intentions.
Sex without actually having sex.
He’d already done that to her once, and it had become like a first strike in his three-strike rule. She didn’t want half sex to count as a whole so she caught on to his hand, pushed it aside and turned him so that he was pinned against the back of the door.
The room was darker than the barn, the only illumination coming from the clock on a small mi
crowave that was sitting on an equally small fridge, so it took Mila’s eyes a couple of seconds to adjust. That meant a short delay in her seeing Roman’s reaction to what she’d done. The corner of his mouth lifted into a smile.
She fixed that by kissing him. Not that she minded him smiling, but he had a hot smile, and she was already primed and ready to go. Best not to add anything to the mix if she wanted even a short amount of foreplay.
Which she did.
If this was going to be her last time with Roman, she wanted to savor it a little. Mila wanted to be able to look back on these memories and think about how perfect it had all been.
But it wasn’t perfect.
The door was rough wood, and when she went to put her hands on his butt, Mila was certain she got a splinter. It seemed a small price to pay, though, and she especially felt that way when his kisses returned to her mouth. She didn’t give up on her butt-grabbing quest, but it did slow her down a little.
Yes, this was what she wanted from him. That slow, dreamy feeling of pleasure sliding through her body. The kisses that could dissolve industrial-grade steel. His left hand, moving over her breasts while his right hand pushed her dress the rest of the way up. Roman didn’t stop with the dress pushing, either. He slid down her panties and used his foot to push them the rest of the way off.
“Sorry about this,” he said, unzipping his jeans. “You deserve better.”
There wasn’t anything better than her getting Roman, but she nearly asked him about how they were going to make this happen. The answer to that, though, suddenly became very clear. He lifted her until her thighs and knees were anchored against his hips. They shifted positions again so that her back was against the door.
He put his hand between them again, and since she wasn’t wearing her panties now, she had no trouble feeling his fingers.
“I don’t want a hand job,” she managed to say.
“Good. Because you’re not getting one. You’re getting me.”
That’s when she figured out what he was doing down there. He was putting on a condom that he’d taken from his wallet. The wallet was now on the floor, along with the condom wrapper.
Branded as Trouble Page 21
