by Paige Warren
“Thank you.”
“I have two openings right now, and while I do need that form completed, one of the positions is yours if you want it. The pay isn’t much, eight dollars an hour, but you get all the coffee you can drink both on the clock and off. It’s just twenty hours a week so that you won’t make a lot, but after you’ve been on the job six months, we can discuss a full-time position, if that’s something you decide you want.”
“You’re … you’re giving me the job?” She was certain she had misheard. Every door in town had been slammed in her face all afternoon. It seemed too good to be true that she was finally going to be given a chance.
“Yep. And if you’re working on your G.E.D, I’m going to assume you’re taking the class over at the library. I can start you on the night shift, six to ten Monday through Friday to start. Once you’re surer of yourself around here, I may have you work some weekends, too.”
“Thank you!” she squealed, wanting to launch herself over the counter to hug the man.
He held out a hand. “Tim Roberts. I own Cuppa Joe, and you’ll find me here most days. I like to have a hands-on approach to this place, even though I have a very competent manager and staff. If you have any problems, Dacey, you come to me or Mark Stevens, he’s the manager. We don’t tolerate bullies, even if they are customers.”
She nodded that she understood.
“Fill that out and you can start next Monday.”
Dacey hurried over to an empty table and did her best to fill out the form. She didn’t have a copy of her social security card, but she did know the number. Thankfully, her phone still had minutes left, so she was able to put her cell down since she didn’t know the phone number of Tyson’s place. No, their place. She was going to start thinking in a more positive way, even if it killed her.
She stumbled over some of the questions, but made it through the form, then turned it in with the pen. After thanking Mr. Roberts profusely, she went out to her car and drove back to the ranch, excited to share her news with Tyson, and hoping he’d be happy for her. They hadn’t discussed her getting employment before completing her G.E.D, but the truth was that she was bored sitting at the ranch all day every day. Not that she didn’t love the ranch, and being with Tyson, because she did … she just needed a little something extra in her life, and a way to have some cash of her own. A job had seemed like the perfect solution.
The door was open when she got home, and she worried that Tyson had fallen. He liked to act big and tough, but she knew he had trouble with his leg, more trouble that he wanted to admit. She’d heard him fall the other morning when he was getting in the shower, but he’d locked the door and refused to let her in. Stubborn-ass man! It hurt that he expected her to allow him to give her a helping hand, but he wouldn’t accept one from her.
“Tyson?” she called as she entered the house. The living room was empty, and so was the kitchen. When she reached the bedroom, her heart nearly dropped. “What happened?”
He looked her way, and she saw the lines of pain bracketing his mouth and etched in his brow. “I tried to ride a horse. The therapist said I could get back in the saddle as soon as I felt I was ready, so I decided to give it a try. Bastard threw me right off, and into the fence at that.”
“We should get you to the doctor.”
“I’ll be fine, sugar. Just a little banged up, and my pride took a hit. I already took off the prosthetic and checked my leg over. It’s fine, just sore. My back and head slammed into the wooden corral, so those hurt the most, but I took some Tylenol, and I should be good as new in a day or two.”
She eased onto the side of the bed. “Is there anything I can do for you? Do you want something to drink or eat?”
“I’m fine.” He smiled. “You’re home late. What have you been up to?”
A smile blossomed across her face. “I got a job! Starting next week, I’ll be a barista part-time at Cuppa Joe. It’s just nights, Monday through Friday, but it will give me something to do besides study while I heal. I promise not to overdo it, and I know it isn’t much of a job, but it’s my first legal one.”
Tyson smiled. “I’m proud of you, sugar. I knew when you were ready, you were going to take the world by storm.”
“The owner said that after six months if I decided I wanted to work full-time that we could talk about it. I guess this first six month is more of a training period. I’ll only make eight dollars an hour, but it will give me gas money and a little spending cash. Plus, he said I can have all the coffee I want, even when I’m not working.”
“That’s great, darlin’. I’m real proud of you.”
Dacey lay down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Ty, do you think one night we could maybe go on a real date? I mean the kind where we both get dressed up and have a nice dinner. I’ve never tried the wine before, or champagne. I want to do all the things I’ve been denied. Is that selfish?”
“No, not selfish, just human. It’s natural for you to want to try new things, and I think a date sounds real nice. Just give me a few days to get myself pulled back together and I’ll take us over to Casper, and we’ll eat at that fancy Italian place near the mall. They have linen tablecloths, candlelit dinners, and everything. I remember going once with my parents, but I can’t remember what we were celebrating.”
“I think the fanciest place I’ve ever been was McDonald’s, and we didn’t even sit down to eat, just took it to go.”
Tyson frowned at her. “You’ve never eaten out somewhere and stayed there to eat?”
She shook her head.
“Ah, hell, sugar. I’ve failed you already. No matter how banged up I am, I promise we’ll go out to dinner tomorrow night. Not as fancy as the Italian place, but it will be better than fast food. I’m afraid you’re stuck with pizza tonight, though.”
“I’d cook for you, but I never learned how.”
“Nothing to it. You help me in the kitchen when you can, and you’ll learn a little each time. Before you know it, you’ll be cooking on your own.”
“Hot dogs and Ramen are the best I can do right now. Didn’t have money for much else. When I was lucky, I’d splurge and buy a dollar loaf of French bread, some spaghetti noodles, and a jar of sauce.”
“If I had known just how bad things were for you … hell, I don’t know what I would have done, but I sure as shit wouldn’t have left you in that rusty tin can with no food.”
Her heart warmed at his words and she snuggled closer. “Just getting to see you twice a week was good enough, Ty. You were my bright spot in a miserable life, and you still are. My life may not be miserable anymore, but you’re still my bright spot.”
He tipped her chin up and kissed her, his tongue delving inside to twine with hers. She clutched at his shirt and wished like hell she could strip him bare and ride him like a naughty cowgirl, but according to the doctor, she had four weeks left before she could have sex. Of course … the doctor just said they couldn’t have sex. He didn’t say they couldn’t play.
Dacey pulled away and gave him a wicked grin before nudging his legs apart and settling between his thighs. He’d taken off his jeans and only had on boxers with a wife beater. She’d never thought a man could look sexy dressed like Ty was, but he was mouthwateringly delicious. Dacey ran her hands under his shirt and up over his chest, feeling his muscles tense and ripple under her fingertips. His gaze was intense as he watched her, probably wondering just how far she was going to take things.
Dacey curled her fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs and slowly eased them down over his hips. She wiggled her way down to the foot of the bed and pulled them completely off Ty. His cock was hard and begging for attention. The drop of pre-cum on the tip had her licking her lips and crawling back up the bed.
“Just what are you up to, sugar?”
“Just because we can’t have sex right now doesn’t mean I can’t make you feel good.”
His eyes darkened, and he looked ready to devour her. A hum of excitement buzzed th
rough her as she gripped his cock and gave it a firm stroke, smearing the pre-cum along his length. Every muscle in his body was coiled tight, and he felt like he might explode at any moment. Dacey stroked him some more before fitting her lips around the head of his cock. Her tongue stroked his shaft as she swallowed his length.
Tyson groaned and fisted the sheets, his hips lifting as if begging for more. Dacey pulled back and swirled her tongue around the tip before taking him in her mouth again. She took her time, licking, stroking, and teasing. He swelled in her mouth, and she felt his balls draw up a moment before he bathed her throat in his cum. Dacey swallowed every drop, then licked him clean before placing a kiss on his chest and settling back on the bed beside him.
“Damn, woman.”
She gave him a satisfied smirk. “Happy to please.”
“If I didn’t feel like roadkill, I’d flip you over and return the favor. Although, I’m not sure if the doctor said no sex because of penetration, or because it’s bad for you to come right now.”
“Let’s not find out. Besides, sex has been my life for so long, a few weeks off actually sounds pretty nice. As much as I want you, and trust me, I always want you, this might be a good thing for me.”
He hooked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You know that just because we share this bed, it doesn’t mean I expect sex all the time. You can tell me no anytime you want.”
“That’s just it … I never want to tell you no.” She kissed him softly. “We’re going to have sex like bunnies as soon as the doctor clears me. You’ll be so sick of me, you’ll groan and say ‘not again’ when you see me strip naked.”
His chest shook with laughter, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “I don’t think I’d ever say that.”
“Maybe not. Want help getting your underwear back on?”
“Now there’s something I never thought a woman would say to me.”
Dacey smiled.
“No, sugar, I don’t need any help. But thank you. Why don’t you order some pizzas for us? The number is on the fridge, and my wallet is in my jeans. You can use my bank card to pay for it, or there should be some cash in there. Get whatever you want and a supreme for me. I’m hungry enough to eat a large by myself I think.”
She poked at his six pack. “If you don’t watch it, this will melt away and instead of a six pack, you’ll have a keg.”
Tyson burst out laughing until tears leaked from his eyes. “Sugar, I don’t see that happening, not with everything I go through in P.T. and the training I put myself through at home, but your concern is duly noted.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she sang as she sauntered out of the room, pausing long enough to retrieve his wallet.
Life with Tyson was definitely never boring.
Chapter Six
Tyson gritted his teeth and glowered at his physical therapist. The woman was a sadist, and if he were armed, he just might shoot her. She’d had him working with weights the last half hour, and his body was wracked with pain and pushed to the max. Sweat dripped down his face and chest, and he wondered if walking was worth all this. So what if he couldn’t ride a horse?
Suck it up, asshole. He did ten more reps and then collapsed. If she wanted more out of him, it was going to require a large glass of sweet tea and about a half hour to rest, and he knew he wasn’t getting either of those things. As much as it sucked, this was his life until he was back to … well, not one hundred percent because he’d never be one hundred percent ever again, but he was hoping to get really damn close. And with all of the modern marvels, who could say he couldn’t get to one hundred-ten percent one day?
“I’m done,” he said, panting for breath. “Hell, I’m not even sure I can walk out of here, much less drive home.”
“You should have brought your girlfriend. She could have read a magazine or something while she waited for you,” his therapist admonished.
“She doesn’t need to see me like this.”
“Aw, would it hurt the big macho man’s pride for his wittle girlfriend to see him suffer?”
He narrowed his eyes at the therapist but didn’t dignify her nonsense with an answer.
“Same time on Tuesday. Don’t be late.” His therapist gave him a cheery wave and went over to her desk.
Tyson wiped himself off with a towel and hauled his ass out to his truck. His entire body ached, and he was torn between wanting a cold shower to cool off and a hot tub of water to ease his muscles. With any luck, the A/C in the truck would cool him off between the VA and home. The clock on the dash read 4:00 PM, which meant he’d barely get home in time to kiss Dacey before she was off to her new job. There had been a bounce in her step lately, though, so he didn’t begrudge her the small amount of income, and the little independence she’d managed to grab.
His truck ate up the miles between the VA and his ranch, and soon he was pulling down the winding drive. Tyson parked near the front porch, not wanting to walk any farther than he had to, and noticed Dacey’s car was still in the driveway. He eased out of the truck, making sure his legs would hold him before he closed the door and made his way inside. Dacey was in the bedroom, slipping on her shoes. He’d taken her to the mall over the weekend and bought her a good pair of tennis shoes so her feet wouldn’t hurt at her new job. She’d protested the cost, but he’d eventually worn her down, convincing her they were a good investment if she planned to work at Cuppa Joe for a while.
“You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put up wet,” she said, coming to stand in front of him. “Was therapy hard today?”
“It’s hard every day. I think that’s the point, to make me suffer so I’ll be strong again.”
She caressed his biceps. “You seem pretty strong to me.”
Tyson smiled and pulled her close, kissing her long and deep. “Talk like that will get you bent over the bed again.”
“Three weeks.”
He sighed. “Three very long weeks. You know, the day you get the all clear, I saw we just stay home for twenty-four hours, naked, and christening every piece of furniture in the house.”
“Now that’s a plan I can agree with.” She smiled broadly, kissed him again, and then gave him a little wave. “I’m off to work. Don’t wait up. I know you’re worn out from P.T.”
That was one way of putting it. Roadkill probably had more energy than he did right now. Tyson stripped out of his clothes, removed his prosthetic, and used his crutches to get into the bathroom. He sat on the bench in the shower and started the water, needing to wash away the funk from sweating profusely. It was a testament to Dacey’s feelings for him that she hadn’t squealed and run away from his stench when he’d hugged her.
Damn but I love that woman.
Well, maybe not love. He wasn’t sure about his feelings for Dacey, other than knowing he wanted her in his life for as long as possible. If that was love, consider him head over heels. He definitely liked her, was in lust with her, but he’d never been in love before. The water beat down on his battered body, and he put his head in his hands, letting the water stream down his back.
Did Dacey want a declaration of love? Or would that send her running in the other direction? If he had to guess, he’d say that no one had ever told her they loved her, probably not even her parents. Which meant when he did declare himself, it would be special and something she would cherish always. Unless it scared the hell out of her. He wished Dacey had some friends that he could talk to, to find out what her reaction might be if he told her had serious feelings for her.
He got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and used the crutches to hop back into the bedroom. In his underwear drawer, he pulled out a small blue, velvet box. He flipped the lid open and looked at the heart-shaped ruby in a white gold band. Before the night Dacey almost died, he had purchased the ring in hopes of luring her away from her life of prostitution and into one a lot more boring—that of rancher’s wife. But since she’d been in his house, he’d worried t
hat if he asked her to marry him, she’d balk at the idea and think it was another of his ways of protecting her.
All right, so it might be a little about protecting her, but mostly he wanted her in his bed and in his life every day until he drew his last breath—definitely his last breath, because he refused to let Dacey die first. He wasn’t sure he’d last a week in a world that didn’t have Dacey in it.
Well, if that’s not sappy as all hell.
He closed the box and hid it in his drawer again before pulling out a clean pair of boxer briefs. He sat on the edge of the bed and put them on. It had been a while since he ate and his stomach rumbled, but he really didn’t feel like going to the kitchen and making a meal. And he sure as hell didn’t want to put his leg back on. His stump was fucking killing him and he needed a break. Using the crutches, he made his way to the kitchen, where he made three sandwiches and set the plate of food and soda on the table. There was no way he was carrying all that and using his crutches to get into the living room.
Tyson ate quickly, barely tasting his food, swigged his drink, and then threw his trash away and put his plate in the sink. By the time he made it to his recliner, he was exhausted and ready for a nap. Not even bothering to turn on the TV, he put the foot up on his chair and closed his eyes. He dozed off and on for several hours, well into the night. The numbers on the digital display on the cable box mocked him as they blurred, no matter how much he squinted. When they came into focus, he saw it was nearly eleven. Why hadn’t Dacey woken him when she came home?
“Dacey,” he called out.
He put the foot down on his chair and reached for his crutches. Swinging his way through the house, he searched every room for her, but the house lay dark and quiet except for the lamp he had burning in the living room.
“Dacey!”
He peered through the blinds and didn’t see her car in the driveway. What the hell?
Tyson got his phone from the bedroom and called Cuppa Joe. The line rang a dozen times, and no one answered. Unease skirted down his spine as he began to fear genuinely for Dacey’s safety. He put on some workout shorts, a tank, and put a tennis shoe on his good foot. Not giving a shit what anyone thought of his stump, he used his crutches to get to his truck and drove into town.
