by Jodie Becker
“You still in?” asked Harry.
“No,” Dylan said absently and dropped his cards.
A round of groans went up. He must’ve had a good set, but he didn’t care. He only had eyes for Erica. Walking up to her, he dropped his hands on her waist. Erica looked up at him, a dreamy smile on her face. She rolled her ass against his semi-erection and he groaned.
“You do make a horny drunk,” he said against her ear.
Erica cupped his neck from behind, her hair tickling his cheek. Curled around her, he watched her suck her bottom lip, her eyes half-mast. The chorus came up and she pulled away to circle him in a sensual sway. Dylan twisted around, mesmerized by her. He caught her wrist and pulled her into him, his thigh inserted between her legs. They danced together, the world receding.
She wrapped her arms about his neck, her alcohol-tinged breath whispering over his lips. “This song was playing when I first met you.”
“Was it?”
“Yeah. You know, this song is about sex?”
He muffled a laugh. “Really?”
She nodded and then she began to sing. “Honey, why don’t you let go and ride my wild bronco. Love Rode-ee-oh-oh-ooh!”
She sung the chorus out of tune and Dylan found it adorable.
“See, the bronco is his penis,” she finished on a loud whisper.
Dylan kept his voice perfectly level. “Is that right?”
She frowned at him in a mixture of annoyance and befuddlement. “Yes.”
Everyone knew that song implicated sex, but she appeared to find it important she enlighten him. They danced in silence, Erica’s body glued to him. He preferred not to put on a public show and pulled from her. “Let’s go home.”
“All right.”
As he walked her toward the door, she tottered behind him. “Bye, Tammy! We’re going home to have sex!”
Dylan shook his head. She was going to regret this tomorrow.
Men chuckled as he passed them by.
“Have fun,” Harry said on a wink.
“I’ll see you next week at the barbeque,” Dylan said to Frank.
He walked Erica to his truck. He helped her in, but the minute he slipped into the driver seat she climbed onto his lap. Automatically, her hands fell on her hips. Her pussy rocked against his shaft.
She cupped his cheeks. “Kiss me.”
Dylan hesitated but drew her down. He tasted grapefruit and sugar as he plied her with a hungry kiss. She moaned and rocked against him, sending spikes of pleasure through his cock. The jeans tamed his erection, keeping it between a semi and a full hard-on. Damn it.
Erica shifted and unbuttoned the top of his jeans. He knew where this would head if he didn’t stop and he clasped her wrist, halting all movement. His dick screamed at him for being an idiot. Erica’s bleary gaze stabbed him with guilt. He shouldn’t have sex with her when she was this drunk.
“I don’t have any protection,” he whispered.
She kissed him again. “I don’t care.”
“Yes, you do. Come on. I’ll drive you home and we’ll take it from there.”
She pouted at his answer but slipped off him. Dylan heaved an almost imperceptible sigh and drove them home. The ride quickly turned from steamy to queasy. Forced to pull over twice, he held her as she vomited by the side of the road. Each time she promised never to drink again through tear-glazed eyes. Dylan rubbed her back and kissed her nape, his heart hurting for her.
He pulled into her drive and turned toward her to find her head pressed against the window. She groaned when he brushed a lock of hair from her face. “We’re home.”
Her only response was a pitiful moan.
Dylan hopped out and walked around to help her from the vehicle. After she made two unsteady steps, he swept her into his arms and carried her to her house. On the porch he rummaged through her bag to pull out her keys. Once inside, he walked her upstairs and gently eased her onto the bed. She rolled onto her side and curled inward, her eyes squeezed shut.
“I wish it’d stop spinning.”
Dylan caressed her back. “You need anything?”
“God. Maybe a bucket?”
He returned moments later with a cool cloth and trash can. Settling in behind her, he rubbed her back and listened to her moan until she fell asleep. Dylan rested on her frilled pillow, inhaling the fruity scent and undertones of bitter alcohol. This was new for him. He’d never spent the night with a drunk girlfriend. He chuckled and shifted closer to her, careful not to jostle the bed. A little snore emerged from Erica and he grinned. Life couldn’t get any better.
* * * * *
Bud’s mad barking jerked Dylan awake in the middle of the night and his head shot up. Blinking, he quickly recognized he wasn’t in his room. A heavy weight pressed against his side and he looked down to find Erica curled into him, a thigh thrown over his leg.
He dropped his head back to listen to the frantic barking that continued without abating. Damn, something or someone was out there and Bud was going to wake up the whole neighborhood with his noise. With a grunt of annoyance, he eased out from beneath Erica, who whimpered but otherwise remained asleep. He hurried down the stairs and jerked the door open, faltering the moment his foot hit the cool grass. The moonlight reflected light on a white sedan that looked familiar. Oh shit.
He stalked across the lawn and followed the sound of his dog. Above the snarls he heard a distinctive husky voice and his skin tingled with apprehension. He stepped into his backyard and whistled to Bud. In an instant the barking eased to a growl.
Dylan turned the corner to find Ruby pressed against the wall, her face pale with fear. Incredulity shot through him. How could a woman be terrified of a terrier?
“Bud, come here.”
Immediately his dog ceased and rushed toward him, his tail wagging with great enthusiasm, tongue lolling out as though he’d just stopped a vicious intruder.
“You should keep that animal on a leash,” Ruby snapped.
An eyebrow raised a notch. “He’s just a small dog.”
Ruby held out her hand and he noticed the fine tremble of her fingers. “It bit me.”
Dylan grabbed her wrist and held it closer of inspection. Several spots of blood had welled up, but otherwise she appeared mostly unharmed. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Wordlessly she followed him as he walked farther around the back and opened the door. He flicked on the light and led her into the living room. He turned to find her perusing his humble home. Anxiety tightened in his chest at the sight of his past and his future colliding.
A delicate frown pulled at her brow. “This is…quaint.”
Dylan’s lips tightened. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll be back with something for your hand.”
He trudged up the steps and quickly retrieved the first-aid kit and returned to Ruby who sat quietly on the lounge, her shoulders slumped forward. What was she doing here? The anxiety in his chest unfurled to a hollow ache that precipitated disaster. He placed the kit on the coffee table and Ruby looked up. The pain in her eyes caught him off-guard. Surely the bite wasn’t too bad? He sat beside her and grasped her hand. A subtle bruising had started around scraped skin and tiny wounds. He put pressure on her wrist, checking for a sprain.
“Does that hurt?”
She shook her head.
Dylan reached out for an antiseptic wipe and cleaned off her hand. All in all, the wounds appeared superficial at best and wouldn’t require anything further than a tetanus shot as a precaution.
“Seems all right now.”
Ruby fingered a cut and grimaced. “I didn’t think a little dog would actually attack me.”
“All dogs are territorial no matter the size. Especially when someone enters the yard.”
Ruby huffed. “I wouldn’t have gone into the backyard if you’d answered the door. Where were you?”
Dylan ignored the question. “What are you doing here, Ruby?”
She looked away. “Can�
��t I stop by and see how you’re doing?”
“In the middle of the night?”
“I didn’t know it was going to take me this long to get to this Godforsaken place.”
“Then why bother to come all the way out to the boonies if this place is so unpalatable for you?”
Lips pursed. “It’s just not what I’m used to. I thought this was supposed to be some investment thing, not your ‘escape plan’,” she said, using finger quotes.
Dylan rubbed his forehead, ignoring her snide remark. This wasn’t going to be easy. “You could’ve called first.”
Eyes narrowed on him. “And have you tell me not to bother? You seemed real happy with your pedestrian life, heaven forbid I should wander in and upset it all.”
“That’s not—”
“No? Miss Perfect making what used to be caviar look like shit? Of course that’s it. Don’t let her find out we used to fuck, she just might kill me with kindness.”
“What the hell is with this mood swing? You’re not making any sense. Erica isn’t perfect, neither am I. Look, if you’d called ahead of time I would’ve…”
In all honesty he didn’t know what he would’ve done. Was he ready for Erica to face his past again? Last time just about sent him crazy.
Ruby’s eyes narrowed knowingly. “See. I know you better than you think. You don’t want me here.”
“Look, Erica is a nice girl and I really like her.”
A sheen of tears glimmered in Ruby’s eyes and Dylan felt like shit. She didn’t deserve a brush-off, but he also couldn’t contain the implication of her presence and what that could mean for his future.
“Why did you leave me, Dylan?”
The plaintive note in her voice just about killed him and he grasped her fingers. “I didn’t leave you, Rube. I left the lifestyle. I was tired. That’s all. It didn’t have anything to do with you. You and I both know this thing between us was just too fucked up. We had a crack at it and it didn’t work out.”
“But it could now,” she whispered.
Ah shit. “No, Ruby. I can’t.”
A tear trailed down her cheek. “Please, Dylan. I’m desperate.”
Dylan fingered away the tear. He mightn’t want to be with her, but he wasn’t an asshole. “You deserve someone who can give you their all. I’m not that guy. I’ll help you through whatever is bothering you, but this thing you’re hoping for—us being together—that’s never going to happen. Now, why are you here, Ruby? This time the truth.”
“Do you remember Beast Master?”
Dylan eased back, suspicion once again blooming inside. That was the last production he did and Ruby was one of the women he fucked. Did they want him to come back and finish something? “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head, then nodded. Which was it?
“If there is something wrong, you can tell Vane to forget it. I’m not coming back.”
Red flared across her cheeks as she glared at him. “What has Vane got to do with this? I’m not here to convince you to do anything.”
Dylan eyed her dubiously. Were the tears for show? Jesus, if anyone knew how much of a sucker he was for damsels in distress it was Ruby. “Oh yeah? Everyone knew we fucked each other outside of work at one time. Who better to butter me up than you?”
“How dare you think I’d whore myself out for that man?”
Dylan frowned. It was kind of what they did. Whoring themselves out for Vane. “Then what are you doing here?”
Her mouth quivered and finally she spoke. “I’m pregnant.”
* * * * *
Erica woke to a gremlin hammering in her head. Rolling over, she groaned as sunlight stabbed into her eyes. Desperately she searched for a pillow and dropped it over her head. The faint scent of vomit made her gag-reflex kick in and she whimpered. She was never going to drink again. Ever.
After her stomach stopped churning, she sat up and wiped a hand down her cheek. She frowned and looked around as though the question lay somewhere in the bedroom. How did she get home?
It must’ve been Tammy…she hoped. God, if it was Dylan… She shook her head, and even that sent a spike of pain through her skull. She couldn’t fathom the thought of Dylan watching her upchuck. No, it had to have been Tammy.
She couldn’t remember anything. Did she do something foolish? Edging off the bed, she found her bag on the floor. She scrambled through her things until she found her cell and dialed. After a handful of rings, Tammy picked up.
“Hello?”
“What happened last night?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.
“You tell me. You were all rodeo on Dylan last night.”
Pain throbbed behind her eyes and she rubbed her forehead. “What?”
“If I recall, the last thing you said was you were going to have sex with him…to the whole bar.”
Shock prickled over her face. “No.”
“Yes! I bet you rode him so hard you’re not walking right. Did you?”
“No! I mean, I don’t think I did. I woke up by myself.”
Silence crackled over the line, followed by uproarious laughter.
“I’m glad you’re finding this all very amusing, Tammy.”
“Oh I am, don’t you worry about that. Don’t worry, no one commented on it after you left. But I bet they’ll be giving Dylan a few nudges today.”
Erica pressed an index finger and thumb to the bridge of her nose. “What do you mean, after I left? How did I get home?”
“What do you mean? Dylan took you home. He’s not there?”
“No.”
“So he didn’t slip one under the radar. That’s a nice guy you have there.”
Erica groaned. “Tammy, be serious for a minute please. I’m a bit hungover.”
“I am serious. You got rip-roaring drunk, went home with Dylan intent on ravishing him, and the rest is just juicy gossip now.”
Great, worst thing to do in a small town is to…well, do anything out of the ordinary. “All right. Thanks for clearing that up.”
After she hung up, she retreated to the bathroom only to draw up short at her reflection. A small sound of dismay left her at the sight of smudged lipstick, trails of mascara and her knotted mess that once was a stylish bun. Hideous bed hair and raccoon face completed the list of reasons why she shouldn’t get drunk. She fingered a length of hair and grimaced. Served her right. She turned on the shower, waited until steam filled the room before stepping under the water. Opening her mouth, she rinsed the hairy taste on her tongue, then proceeded to wash away all the evidence of her former drunken state. Once clean, she pulled on a free-flowing skirt and shirt before walking down into the kitchen.
The house was empty and she found a packet of aspirin, popped two in her mouth with some water. She stopped by the sink and filled up a water bottle to help her rehydrate. The phone rang and she squeezed her eyes against the pain. God! She hurried over to it and swept it up.
“Hello?”
“Erica, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for ages,” Greg said.
Erica’s head pounded. She didn’t need this stress. “Greg, please stop calling me.”
“No. You have to know the type of guy you’re with.”
“I do know. He told me all about it.”
“What? He told you that he was—”
Erica hung up. She wasn’t in the mood and certainly felt a warm satisfaction at hanging up on him.
Determined to wipe the bitter taste of ex from her mouth, she decided to bask in the wonders of her new relationship. Hair clipped back, she slapped on some foundation and lip gloss. Satisfied she looked at least halfway presentable and not the least bit hungover, she retrieved a stack of brownies from her fridge and walked out the front door.
Her eyeballs throbbed and she squinted. The sun was high and she suspected she slept most of the morning away. If there was anything to be grateful for, she supposed at least Dylan wasn’t out using his work tools.
She made it
down the stairs, the grass cold on her bare feet. Hurrying over to Dylan’s house, she knocked on his front door. She wondered if an apology was in order. Sorry I tried to jump your bones and ravish you sounded too lame. How does a girlfriend apologize for trying to rip her boyfriend’s pants off?
Lip tucked beneath her teeth, she nibbled in nervous anticipation. As she raised her hand to knock again, the door opened. A shiver of desire rocked down her spine. He stood in a loose pair of trousers, his abs rippled as he stretched his hand up the doorframe.
He blinked at her and wiped his eye. “Erica? What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to thank you for taking me home last night. Look, brownies,” she said with an impish grin.
Dylan glanced behind him then smiled at her, a tender glimmer in his eyes. “You shouldn’t have. It was no problem.”
“I heard what I did last night,” she said on a grimace. “I’m not usually so…vocal.”
“Hey, it’s okay. I didn’t mind at all.”
Erica shuffled on her feet and noted Dylan shift the door closer to his body. “Can I come in?”
He sucked a breath through his teeth. “I would invite you in, but the house is a bit of a mess right now. Come around back?”
Erica nodded and he shut the door. Hurrying around the side, she entered the backyard and muffled a shriek as Bud tore around the corner after her. Plate held high, she slipped by him as he leapt around her like an overly excited lamb.
“Down,” she commanded.
Bud stopped jumping, his big brown eyes latched on her plate as he pranced around her. A whistle made his ears perk and he shot off again. Erica looked up as Dylan finished pulling on his shirt. Bud sat before Dylan, tail wagging. He crouched to pat the dog then scratched his tummy when Bud lay on his back.
“Wow, you’ve trained him already.”
Dylan stood and accepted the plate of brownies, while his other hand clasped hers to lead her toward the gazebo. Erica made a sound of awe. He’d done a bit of work since she’d seen it last. Turned wooden banisters fenced in the gazebo and little loveseats were propped against two sides of the hexagon. She sat on one seat, and Dylan settled beside her, putting the plate between them.
