Rugged and Restless

by Saylor Bliss

  I couldn’t pull my gaze from that finger, but my thoughts flickered briefly to the way she’d diffused the situation with Bull. If that had been an act… My mood souring fast, I pushed MacKay Junior out of my mind. That ass wasn’t going to ruin my evening. Reaching across the table, I took hold of her hands and rubbed my thumbs over her knuckles.

  Her eyes swept up to meet mine, filled with questions and uncertainty. But burning with intensity that sparked an answering heat inside me.

  “And how are you feeling right now?” I murmured.

  Her smile was slow and sweet and did things to my heartbeat. “Not as nervous as Friday night when you came in here the first time.”

  There was something about her voice that nagged at me sometimes, but when I’m with her, all of my attention is on her eyes. “I’ve been trying since we met to figure out your accent.”

  She looked at me with a sly smile of her own and shifted in her seat. When her bare foot brushed along my inner thigh, I choked on my next breath. Apparently she didn’t mind taking advantage of the seclusion afforded by our corner table, seating courtesy of Matchmaker Sissy.

  Christine giggled. “I’m sorry. I was distracted. What did you say?”

  As soon as some blood makes its way back to my brain I might be able to remember. “I… wondered where you came from. Your accent.”

  “I don’t have an accent. You do.” She frowned. “Only your Wyoming cowboy is mixed with something else.”

  “You almost don’t have one,” Travis corrected. “Just certain words sometimes. The way you say ‘you’ like it starts with an E and ends on a question mark. It’s cute. I’ve heard it someplace before but I can’t place it. So where did you start out?”

  Christine smiled. “Southwestern Virginia. Blue Ridge Mountains.” That explained why she was comfortable with the mountains in Wyoming. Newcomers often weren’t. “So how did you end up moving from one mountain range to another?”

  “There were a couple of stops in between, but the short story is I made someone a promise.”

  Twenty-three hour man —again. Her face had started closing off the minute I’d asked the question.

  “You have family back in Virginia?” I asked.

  “Only child,” she said easily.

  “My parents died in a car accident when I was nineteen.”

  Crap. Zero for two. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  So, no denying the pain with statements of how long ago it had been, no insanity about how they’d had a good life and at least they went together.

  But she wasn’t struggling with their loss the way she was with her twenty-three hour man. The thought was a quick stab to my heart. There were a million ways to screw up and I’d just stumbled onto the top one.

  Chapter 29

  Christine

  “Hey, Angel, are you particularly attached to L.A.?” Mick was starting to slur his words.

  “It’s nice. It’s not really home. I came out here with some friends.”

  “Good. ‘Cause I was thinking after we get married I want to go home. Back to Wyoming. Will you come with me?”

  “I’d love that. I like to travel, see new places, but I kind of like the idea of making a home.” I checked the log. More than twenty hours had passed. It was a miracle his battery had lasted so long. “Why don’t you see if you can get some rest? I promise I’ll stay. I won’t go anywhere.”

  “Feel a little like… I’ll have lots of time for resting later.” Listening to him struggle for every breath was torture. “Angel…” The radio sputtered but didn’t go dead. Still he didn’t talk.

  “Mick?”

  “Angel, I don’t think they’re gonna get here in time.” His voice sounded stronger, resolute.

  My heart thumped against my chest wall, an unsteady staccato beat driven by fear. That was supposed to mean something, wasn’t it? People often got stronger, more lucid, right before they died.

  “You listen to me. You proposed to me. You can’t just leave me here.”

  His familiar chuckle took a little longer this time. “I’ll hold on as long as I can, but I think —I think I’m pretty torn up inside. And my leg. Something’s shifted and I can feel it again. I think it’s bleeding pretty bad.”

  My breath caught. With so much rubble to get through, there was little hope he would be alive if he was bleeding out. “Can you move at all? Can you find where you’re bleeding from?”

  I tried to keep the panic from my voice. I heard him gasp. Then he uttered a soft curse. Then nothing.

  “Mick?” she called into the radio. Then more insistently. “Mick!”

  “I’m back, Angel. I got some pressure on it. Not… an artery… I don’t think.”

  I watched Travis pop the last of his fried potatoes into his mouth with a sense of awe. His plate was completely empty. The man had an insatiable appetite.

  “What’s on your dessert menu?” he asked.

  I wrinkled my nose. “A pretty limited choice. People around here seem to have more simple taste. So we have three basic flavors of ice cream, and either lime or orange sherbet, strawberry shortcake. And on your personal menu, there’s always… me.”

  Before Travis showed any sign of reaction to my invitation, the front door opened, admitting two more people.

  “Oh, man,” he breathed. “I’d really hoped to avoid this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry this has to go down, sorry you have to see it, so sorry they brought it here to your place.”

  I followed Travis’s troubled gaze, and caught the unmistakable flash of light auburn hair just starting to go gray. Robert MacKay had made a grand entrance, followed by his wife.

  “They come in sometimes.” I tried to instill an easiness I didn’t feel into my voice. “They’re quiet, keep to themselves.” And I almost always asked Sissy to serve them when they did.

  “Not this time,” murmured Travis.

  Robert scanned the room, his eyes finding and locking on Travis. Clearly the old man had an agenda, and it wasn’t dinner.

  I snapped to attention and drew in a sharp breath, taking in the set to MacKay’s jaw, the open hostility in his dark eyes. I held my breath. There was still time for him to turn away. Please turn away.

  He didn’t.

  He was propelled on waves of tangible aggression, his wife trotting in his wake, like an obedient lapdog on a short leash.

  I bit my lip. Robert MacKay, on a mission of obvious malevolent intent, increased my sense of uneasiness tenfold. Somewhere in his fifties, he was a formidable antagonist, as big as his son, but with a coldness that never failed to chill me to my core. Avoiding a confrontation in the community was one thing. In my place of business, it wasn’t as simple as taking a longer path around a parked truck.

  Grant stepped into Robert’s path, but the old man brushed him off, his eyes never leaving Travis.

  Travis made a barely perceptible hand motion, warning Grant to stay out of it. The younger McGee stepped back, but he didn’t go far. He had his brother’s back. But would it be enough?

  Around them, the soft conversation in the bar spun into silence, broken only by the sweet sounds of a crooning country artist on the jukebox. Something in the quality of the silence crawled along the edges of my awareness. I looked around, taking in the expectant looks.

  “Crap,” I whispered. Dread inched its way under my skin. This was apparently the confrontation the entire town had been waiting for. I locked eyes with Grant as he inched closer to our table.

  “You shouldn’t have come back to Pine Haven.” MacKay wasted no time getting to the point. “I warned your father to keep you the hell away.”

  “Oh?” Travis’s voice was cool, but his eyes were slits. His hands were balled into loose fists. “It must have slipped his mind when I asked for my messages.”

  “Now you know,” said Robert. “So turn yourself around and go back where you came from. Where you took my boy, when you kidnapped him.”

  Cold dread curled in m
y belly. For the second time a MacKay had accused Travis of kidnapping. It couldn’t be true!

  I refused to accept it. A glance around the room, though, showed at least half of the patrons’ present put stock in Robert’s words. I shifted my gaze to Travis.

  Bright green eyes flashed with anger. His face was hard as he returned MacKay’s fierce stare in equal measure, but when he spoke, his tone was cool. “I’ll tell you what I told your son, MacKay. I came home to be with my family. I didn’t come here to start trouble.”

  “You got it wrong, boy.” MacKay leaned over the table and jabbed a finger at Travis. “You found all kinds of trouble just by coming home. You and yours don’t want more of the same, then you’d best leave before someone gets hurt.”

  Travis and Robert MacKay glared at each other in a silent battle fueled by palpable, deep-running animosity. It was obvious Travis had things he wanted to say.

  I held my breath, holding my eyes on Travis as he struggled with fury. His mouth clamped tightly closed; small muscles worked in his jaw. His breathing was rapid and shallow, through flaring nostrils. Not an expression I would want directed at me. But MacKay seemed unaffected.

  Travis broke the stare-down, picking up his water glass and drinking, then shifting his eyes away from MacKay in dismissal. “I’ll consider your advice.”

  Robert’s lip curled into a snarl. “You’ll do more than consider it, if you don’t want to see everything your family owns wiped out.”

  My stomach rolled into a knot. My heart hitched somewhere in my throat, making even the simple act of breathing nearly impossible. I gripped the edge of the table to stop the terrible tremors from becoming apparent. The hostility I’d seen between Bull and Travis had been nothing compared to what was happening here. Suddenly I understood why Travis had wanted me to steer clear of his argument with Bull. I swallowed hard, wondering if the MacKays really had the ability to destroy Travis and his family. With a start, I realized if sides were to be drawn, I was already firmly on the McGee side of the street.

  “Let me explain this in terms you can understand.” Travis narrowed his gaze and lowered his voice. “You don’t want to fuck with my family, MacKay. That’d be your second mistake.”

  Robert snorted. “My second one, eh? Want to tell me what my first was?”

  “Drawing your first breath the day you were born.” Tension rippled in Travis’s arms as though he was preparing to spring.

  Next to her husband, Phyllis shifted, drawing my attention. Her jade green eyes glittered with malevolence. But she wasn’t looking at Travis; she was looking at me.

  “Hello, Mr. MacKay, Ms. MacKay.” DC seemed to materialize behind them.

  Anxiety eased its grip on my gut. I could breathe again, but the knot remained in my throat. Phyllis MacKay had been less than civil for the past couple of days, since even before I had met Travis. What was that about?

  “Someone call the sheriff to defend this piece of shit?” demanded MacKay.

  DC smiled. “As a matter of fact, I came in here to pick up some dinner and heard you hollering over here. Now I’m going to do you a favor and see you get headed for home. Because if you don’t, Mr. MacKay, I won’t have a choice but to put you in jail until you’re sober.”

  Keeping me trapped in her hard-eyed stare, Phyllis tugged on her husband’s arm. After a last long look at Travis, MacKay spun on his heel and stalked to the door.

  DC watched the couple leave, then looked at Travis, speculation in his eyes. “Enjoy your evening, Christine, Trav.” With a nod at them both, he followed the MacKays.

  “I’m sorry.” Resignation colored Travis’s voice, but his gaze into my eyes was unwavering, not quite a challenge.

  I kept my eyes leveled on his. “That wasn’t your fault.” When I laid my hand over his and squeezed gently, the tension in his arms drained. Thank God. “I don’t know what the trouble is between you and them, but I trust you, Travis.”

  I waited, hoping maybe he’d tell me it was nothing, a misunderstanding. But it was apparent it went deeper than that. Far deeper.

  His mouth worked soundlessly. Finally, he managed to speak. “Thank you.” I smiled. “What do you think, Mr. McGee? Do you want to take dessert up in my apartment? It’ll be quiet and we can talk there.”

  “Seems a little like running,” he murmured, darting a glance around the room.

  “Maybe. But if we leave together, it becomes a question of whether you’re running away from all the ruckus or running away with me.” I ran a tantalizing finger down his arm. “Personally, I’d prefer to think of it as running off with me.” I stood and held out my hand. “So… wanna come raid my… kitchen?”

  Travis slipped his hand into mine. “You have a talent for turning things around.”

  The hum of conversation picked up as we abandoned our table and crossed the room. I led him through the kitchen and out the side door, then up the long wooden staircase at the back of the building, turning just before I reached my door.

  A bright flash trailed across the sky and I pointed. “Look! Make a wish!”

  I closed my eyes but when I tried to think of a wish, none came. Unsettled, I opened my eyes again to find Travis watching me with an intensity that took my breath.

  “Not all wished out after all?” he asked softly. I gave him a sad smile and shook my head slowly.

  “Actually, I couldn’t think of one wish just now.”

  Keeping one step above him put us at the same eye level. His eyes looked a darker green, beneath the combination of security lights from the parking lot and the moon high overhead. His lips curled upward and he cocked his head to one side. Slowly, he moved toward me. When I moved back, he followed, walking me one step at a time until my back hit the door. He crowded me there, but stopped just short of touching me.

  Need drove me to slant my body toward his in invitation. Unresolved questions hung between us, but at that moment I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Time to talk would come later. Instant hunger erupted, sending my body into a hot burn for his. I needed him. I needed to move forward with Travis in order to move on from Mick.

  Travis brought a hand up and laced his fingers in my hair, cupping the back of my head. As he drew me close, his lips brushed over mine and my breath caught.

  He pulled away slightly, then moved toward me again. “Please,” I whispered.

  Travis froze in place. “Please?”

  I trembled, recognizing the point of no return. “Come inside.”

  Travis groaned. When he crowded me into the wall again, he didn’t hold back. He molded his lean body against mine. I forgot what we’d been going to talk about, forgot we were going to talk at all.

  He breathed heavily as his hands roamed up and down my ribs, each caress a gentle promise. “Key,” he murmured against my lips.

  In answer, I reached behind me and turned the doorknob. The door opened easily.

  “You shouldn’t leave your door unlocked.”

  I laughed and nibbled at his lower lip. “You’ve been in the city too long.” I tugged him to the edge of the threshold, then across. Without needing to look, I flicked the switch upward and the tiny room was washed in a golden pink glow from the lamp next to my bed.

  “Wow.” Travis surveyed the small apartment, a neutral mask in place. “It’s…”

  I winced, wishing I’d taken more time to tidy up. “Messy, I know.” my eyes slid to my unmade bed. Why hadn’t I changed the sheets? “And it’s small but—”

  “Cozy, private, efficient, convenient…” A huge, somewhat leering grin spread across his face. “But I was actually going to say it’s nice to have someplace where you’re comfortable leaving your underwear hanging in the kitchen.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. I followed his glance at the tiny bits of lingerie hanging on the makeshift clothesline, stretched along the length of my kitchen countertop. “Okay, you get to go park yourself on the settee over there, while I tidy up. Obviously you don’t understand the concept of a
bachelorette pad.” I snatched up my lingerie and stalked over to the dresser, shoving it all into a half-open drawer.

  “Guilty. I’m only familiar with the male equivalent of said pad and that was…” He chuckled, spreading his hands helplessly, then broke into easy laughter. “Actually it was pretty freakin’ disgusting.” Retrieving a red silk camisole from the floor, he dangled it on one finger. “And the underwear wasn’t even close to this interesting.”

  I grabbed the garment. “Go sit down, caveman. There’s a large TV hooked to a satellite dish over there. That ought to keep you occupied for a couple of minutes.”

  Travis twisted his head in the direction I pointed. “You do have your surprises,” he murmured, sauntering over to the TV with a tuneless whistle.

  I gathered various pieces of discarded clothing, stashing them in drawers and shoving them into my closet. I kicked a dozen half-pairs of sandals under the bed, the likely resting place of their mates. Cleaning up my overflowed bath the previous night had led to scouring the bathroom, but I poked my head in to make sure I had picked the wet towel off the floor after my shower that morning.

  When I returned to the main room, Travis was checking out the stereo, and the sultry sounds of a slow jazz number began to play. Anticipation edged into my sensual centers. I yanked the sheet straight and felt around for the blanket at the foot of the bed, pulling it up and squaring it off with efficient movements.

  When Travis’s arms closed around me from behind, I stiffened in surprise, then relaxed and let my head fall back against his shoulder. His hands rested lightly at my waist, in a grip I could have easily escaped. His breath played along my neck, and he teased the sensitive skin beneath my ear with his lips.

  “Watching you is making me crazy.” His silky whisper in my ear turned up the hum of awareness, which didn’t seem to have an off switch when he was around.

  His hands didn’t move and I leaned backward into him, longing to touch his muscular, heated body, but he held me still. Finally he pulled back a half-step and gently spun me to face him.