Rugged and Restless

by Saylor Bliss

  Oh, man. I’d almost trodden right into the territory I most wanted to avoid with him.

  “If I’m still… what, Christine?” His voice was quiet and too calm.

  When I turned back, he was watching me, his expression guarded. “You close off whole pieces of yourself. I get that we don’t know each other well yet. We haven’t had a lot of time. I know I said I wanted to take the time to learn about you but —there seems to be so many unfinished things in your life.” I shook my head. “After last night, what we shared, I thought—”

  Travis pinched the bridge of his nose. He pulled in a long, slow breath, then blew it out through pursed lips but said nothing. Typical.

  “I’m sorry, Travis. I tried to tell myself it doesn’t matter. But it feels like there are a lot of secrets between us.” I scrubbed at the tears spilling onto my cheeks, angry with myself for being so vulnerable.

  Travis ran a finger along the top of the steering wheel. “What’s between me and Bull goes back years. Ever since I can remember, he’s hated me.”

  “Why?”

  He huffed out a breath. “You’d have to ask him.”

  Disbelief spoke before I could temper my irritated tone. “Someone hates you and you have no idea why?”

  From the center of his dashboard, Travis’s cell phone chirped. He checked the readout but made no move to answer. Nor did he answer my question.

  Thoughts of the woman he sought generated a slightly dirty feeling. It wasn’t the mystery woman who was intruding. I swallowed. It’s me. I’m the other woman. “That was your friend again, wasn’t it? The one looking for your…”

  He nodded once, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “See, sometimes —like now —when I’m with you, it feels as if there’s another person here with us.”

  He made an impatient noise. “Just you and me here, Bluebell.”

  “And our respective memories.” I sniffed. “Maybe —maybe this is a mistake.”

  He stiffened. “If you really felt like that, you wouldn’t be here now.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight with you. But I do feel like that. Travis, you can’t have us both. And as long as you want us both, you can’t have me.” Shaking with emotions even I couldn’t name, I flopped back into my seat. My gaze drifted toward the windshield.

  How had I not noticed the empty space? “Where’s your angel?”

  He met my eyes, irritation replaced by a guarded expression. “I put her away. Yesterday. Before I came to your place the first time.”

  “Oh,” I whispered.”

  Travis

  I locked my gaze with Christine’s and traced a finger along the neckline of her shirt.

  Wherever I touched, she quivered. When I reached the middle of her chest, I hooked a finger in her collar and used it to pull her toward me.

  My lips hovered over hers, not quite touching. “We are alone, Christine. Very much so. This isn’t about Jackie. And it’s not about secrets I haven’t had a chance to share. It’s about what you want. Or don’t. When you figure it out, I’ll be right here. But you’ve got to tell me the difference between you caring about my issues with Bull that go back years, and me worrying about the danger you’re in from him right now.” I drew back without kissing her, hating the look of shock and hurt filtering into her eyes, knowing he’d put it there.

  She didn’t answer. I forced myself into stillness, waiting her out.

  Finally she drew a deep breath and spoke. “What if—What if I say I want you, need you? But it scares me to want and need anyone this much?”

  I stiffened. “You’re afraid of me?”

  A tear splashed on her hand. Another rolled over her cheek. I reached out and brushed it away. My eyes drifted to the tiny, mesmerizing pulse beating madly at the base of her throat.

  “No, I’m not afraid of you, I’m afraid for you. Afraid if I love you—” She shook her head.

  Afraid she’d lose me? The thought sucker-punched me. I shook my head. The sad part was, I got where she was coming from. The same fear of losing her coiled like a rattlesnake in my gut, just waiting for the right moment.

  “Oh, baby.” I bent and pressed a kiss to that fascinating pulse. “I can think of a thousand ways I could screw things up between us. But I promise you, me leaving you isn’t one of the scenarios.”

  Even if, by some wild trick of fate, Jackie resurfaced in my life, it was Christine I was falling in love with. But how did I explain that to her, when I didn’t completely understand it myself?

  She pressed herself against me and sobbed into my neck. “You can’t say that. You can’t make that promise, and I don’t think I can survive losing you.”

  Surprise catapulted me back a few inches. “You’re pushing me away because you’re afraid of losing me?” I scrubbed my face with one hand. Temper edged into my voice. “Do you have any idea how fucking ridiculous that sounds?”

  “I didn’t say it made sense!” Crimson bloomed on her cheeks. “It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s how I feel!” She slapped a hand across her chest. “Here.”

  Fresh understanding dawned. It wasn’t about jealousy and secrets. I’d never considered how my problems with the MacKays could scare Christine, not for her safety, but for mine. I gentled my voice. “No, Bluebell. I can’t promise not to die.” I wiped another tear with my thumb. Emotions pelted me from every angle, old ones, new ones, hers, my own. “No one can.” I kissed her gently. “But I will never want to leave you. All I want is to know you’re safe and for you to know you are the most important person in my life.” I smiled. “Bluebell, I want a million more days with you, but if I only have one, I want you to know I mean it when I tell you how much I care for you.”

  Christine sniffed, wiped her eyes, then drew back just a little. “It is so like you to use my own

  words back at me.”.

  I took her lips in a kiss she met with equal passion. Her lips parted. My tongue teased hers. I’d only ever needed one person as much as I needed Christine. And that ship had obviously left the port without me. Or maybe it had never been there to begin with. It no longer mattered.

  I stroked her cheek with one hand, then combed my fingers through her hair, releasing it from her messy ponytail. She shifted in the seat, leaning over the gearshift and straining against me, all softness and curves. I found my hand on a firm breast and used my thumb to stroke her nipple through her blouse. When she moaned and arched against me, I felt an answering stirring deep inside and my jeans were suddenly two sizes too small.

  “Come on, you two,” said DC’s voice from over my shoulder.

  I jerked upright and broke the kiss. “I know you two like hot monkey sex, but you do both have homes. Why don’t you take this to one of them instead of making out where kids are playing?”

  “Sorry.” Christine hid her face against my shoulder.

  “Yeah, sorry.” I angled myself toward the sheriff with a sheepish grin, blocking DC’s view with my body to give Christine time to adjust her shirt. A flash of red hair caught my eye. I nodded toward the ball field, where a teenaged boy was trying to look like I hadn’t been staring. “Who’s the kid?”

  DC looked over his shoulder and heaved a long-suffering sigh. “That young man is Wyatt Robert MacKay. Bull and Wanda’s boy.” He zeroed in on me again. “Uncanny resemblance, eh?”

  My gut began a slow roll. I went completely still as tension crept into the back of my neck. “Wanda was Mac’s girl. She wouldn’t even have been sixteen when we left. How did she get twisted up with Bull?” My eyes followed the boy, who was walking away, a baseball bat and glove dangling from my hands. “How old is that kid?”

  DC placed his hands on the car door and leaned over. I saw his own angst reflected in the mirrored lenses of the sheriff’s sunglasses.

  “Don’t go where your mind’s going.” DC was calm but firm. “Things are already tangled up enough. Decisions had to be made all those years ago. Decisions you and Mac had no part in once you left
. This is one thing you should just leave alone. Don’t think about it, don’t even wonder in passing. It’s not your concern.”

  The sheriff stood, tapped twice on the door where he’d been leaning. With a final pointed look at me, DC turned and ambled back to his patrol car. “And go home,” he called over his shoulder. “No outdoor monkey whacking on my shift.”

  Though I heard the words, they barely registered. I watched the redheaded kid disappear into the distance, suspecting that my past and present had just collided. “Oh, shit.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Christine

  I checked the front cinch. “You are exactly the therapy I need, big boy.”

  Cloud tossed his head and kicked up dust, dancing sideways, when I led him to the fence. Grant met me in the yard.

  “Hey, Christine. Need a leg up?”

  “I’ve got her.” Travis stood in the doorway of the stable. His preoccupied expression said he wasn’t finished with his brooding. Well, I was finished with waiting for him to get over whatever had started eating at him when he’d seen Wyatt MacKay back at the ball field.

  He settled his hands on my shoulders and met my eyes. “I can’t ride out with you today. I know you can take care of yourself. But I’ll feel a lot better if you don’t go too far on your own, okay?”

  I noticed the fine stress lines at the corners of his mouth and the shadows in his eyes. I gnashed my teeth together, determined not to let his vulnerability sway me. He was worried for me but had yet to tell me why. Until he found the time to talk, I wasn’t giving him the right to worry about me. “I don’t need you to ride with me, Travis.” I needed him to share his secret bits and pieces with me. “I’ll be fine. I’ll stick to the main trail and turn around at Diamondback Lookout.”

  After his easy boost into the saddle, I blew him a kiss, then whirled the horse around and took off at a trot, shaking with the effort of not looking back.

  Travis

  I watched her disappear, not surprised when she didn’t turn around. I knew she’d been thrown because of my reaction to Bull’s son. I should have explained it to her, but I hadn’t known how to begin. How could I explain to her that seeing the teenager had been the equivalent of seeing a ghost?

  From behind me, Grant cleared his throat. “Things at her place that bad, or did you put her in that mood?”

  I heaved a sigh but didn’t turn around. “This one’s all mine.”

  Grant’s sharp laugh rang across the yard. “You’ve known her less than a week and you’ve managed to piss off the most un-piss-offable woman I’ve ever met. You sure you’re my brother?”

  I pulled a hand down my face. Damn, I was tired. Blowing out a breath, I swung around and fixed Grant in a pointed stare. “I saw a kid at the ball field today.”

  Grant’s grin turned into a frown of confusion. “What were you doing at the ball field?”

  “I pulled off the road there to talk, to find out why Christine was so prickly.” I shook my head. Grant didn’t need the full explanation. “Thing is, DC stopped by, and then I saw this kid. DC said he was Wyatt Robert MacKay.”

  The name registered on Grant’s face immediately. Regret clouded his eyes and he looked away, a muscle working in his jaw. “Oh, geez. I’m sorry, Trav.” He swung his green gaze back to meet mine. “You shouldn’t have found out about him that way. I should have told you when you got here.”

  One side of my lip pulled upward in a sarcastic half-smile. “Or, I don’t know, maybe someone should have told me fifteen years ago. Or let Mac know. He is Mac’s son, isn’t he?”

  Grant shook his head slowly. “No one’s ever called him that out loud. Speculation on that stopped ten or twelve years ago. Still, if I had to say one way or the other…” He shrugged. “I’d say there’s a good chance.”

  The conversation DC had held with Stella Jinks the day before began to make sense. Regardless of his paternity, Wanda was his mother. Was the kid a troublemaker like Bull?

  Looking up at Grant, I knew I should let it all go, but I had to know. “The fire at Lantree’s yesterday… I overheard DC mention a kid with red hair to Mrs. Pratt.”

  Grant winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think he’s a bad kid, but there are rumors he gets into a little trouble now and then.”

  “A little trouble? Someone set a fire in the lumberyard.” I bent and picked up a stone. I held it loosely in his hand, weighing it while I weighed the thoughts tumbling around in my head.

  “Maybe more than a little.” Grant shrugged. “Folks have kinda given the boy a pass on things… growin’ up with all the questions—”

  “Damn it!” I yelled, flinging the rock. The crack of wood, as the stone slammed into the side of the barn, echoed across the stockyard, followed by snorts and thudding hooves from the horses inside the barn, spooked by my temper tantrum. “Can things get any more screwed up?”

  “Trav.” Grant’s voice was soft but firm. “Folks around here were aware we knew where you were, how to get in touch with you. And that included Wanda.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “So if this kid is Mac’s, she must have kept quiet for a reason.”

  Grant inclined his head and shrugged. “Once the subject dropped, Trav, I never thought about it again either.”

  I grimaced. “I probably wouldn’t have either.”

  I stared along the trail Christine had taken. “Grant… are there any other surprises?” When his brother didn’t answer, I looked over my shoulder to meet Grant’s steady regard. “No. That’s about it.”

  Christine

  Cloud opened up when I gave him his head. Hot sun blasted over my back as his powerful muscles bunched beneath me. He carried me without extra effort, as though I were simply a part of him. We had covered a lot of ground before the horse worked off his energy, but when he slowed back to a fast walk, I began to think.

  How could I know Travis so well yet know next to nothing about him? When had he been in the army? Had he run away to join? What else had he done over the years he’d been away?

  Allan’s words about Travis fighting oil fires made sense. He did carry himself like the firefighters I’d once worked with. Confidence without arrogance. I suspected something big had happened to him on the job. Something big enough to cause a posttraumatic stress reaction the night before. Yet he’d refused to talk about it. His life was a graveyard of mysteries and secrets, and I might never find out about some of those. Then again, I had a mental graveyard of my own.

  “Did you grow up with dreams of being a fireman?”

  His sharp bark of laughter ended in a cough. “No, Angel, I was going to be a rancher. I never wanted the city life. Shit just happened.”

  “Shit” as in the reason he’d left the home he loved.

  “What’s it like? Fighting fires?”

  “It’s part physical, part mental, and part emotional. Sometimes you have to get intimate with a fire, before you can kill it. But you can’t let yourself get caught up in it or you’ll start making… mistakes.” He gave a wry chuckle. “Like being where you shouldn’t be when the building falls in.”

  My heart fluttered. I had to change the subject, but not so it was obvious what I was doing. He’d already proven too smart for that.

  “What was the weirdest run you ever did?”

  He laughed again. “This is L.A. There’ve been a lot of weird runs.”

  “Tell me.” I lifted the water bottle to my lips.

  “I think the strangest was the time the house began shooting at us.” I almost choked on my water. “Um, yeah… that would be pretty memorable. What happened?”

  “We got a call about a trash fire. Nothing big, so we only rolled one unit.”

  A spasm of coughing interrupted him. In the middle of taking another sip of water, I paused. The bottle cooled my palm. I scraped my thumb along the rippled ridges. Drops of water clung to the inside, but with a little shake of my hand, they fell to the waiting pool below. How many things had I
blissfully taken for granted all my life? Like drawing my next breath or quenching my thirst. I should tell Mick to stop talking, save his strength. But his voice came over the radio again, mesmerizing me…

  “We pulled up to this house and there was a trash can on fire. But behind the trash can, the house was involved, shooting flames out of one of the bedroom windows. We couldn’t get there, though, because the driveway was filled with clay pots of huge burning marijuana plants.”

  “That’s one way of getting rid of the evidence,” I murmured, my lips twitching with humor despite the situation. “And a good way to get your local firefighters stoned on the job.”

  Mick chuckled. “Even burning green, it did have a very distinctive aroma. We found out later the grower’s girlfriend had come home from work early and found the boyfriend bang—ah, engaged in sexual activity with her best friend. So she dragged his plants onto the driveway, doused them with barbecue lighter fluid, and lit ‘em up.”

  “I guess the grower would have been upset.”

  “He told the investigator that when he jumped up to save his plants, he knocked over a candle, which caught the bed on fire.” Mick drew another labored breath. “His companion tried to extinguish that with the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand and succeeded in catching the curtains on fire.” He gave another chuckle. “And that left her in a quandary since she wasn’t dressed.”

  “Did she run out nekkid?”

  “No,” he said with a raspy chuckle. “She grabbed a blanket which, unfortunately for her, kind of…”

  “Caught fire.”

  “Yep, and that led to her running through the house to escape it, spreading the fire behind her. In particular, some curtains in a utility room leading to the garage caught fire when she breezed through. We were just on the scene when she came running out of the garage. About then she managed to lose the burning blanket. Kind of made all of us pause to appreciate the view.”