by Tina Leonard
“What the hell is it?” Saint asked.
“Chicken meat loaf?” Steel guessed.
“Spam lasagna?” Declan lifted a piece of it. “Nope, no noodles.”
“Maybe pork hash,” Trace said.
It was pretty unappetizing, as usual. “We never know anyway,” Saint said. They all took tentative bites, chewed, gulped beer. “Ask Stephen to bring us some whiskey. This is going to require a whiskey chaser.”
Steel waved him over, put their order in for something stronger. Saint dug in for another bite.
“Never does taste like chicken,” Declan said.
“We wish it tasted like chicken, or even a squirrel that was run over by a car where the license plate had at least been seen and the animal hadn’t been lying in the road for a week,” Trace said.
“It’s not half bad, if you pretend it’s chicken cordon bleu,” Steel said, and they all glared at him.
“What the hell do you know about chicken cordon bleu, Steel?” Saint demanded.
“Not a damn thing, really, but I use my imagination.” He waved his fork. “It’s better to use your imagination than to try to guess what you’re eating.”
There was truth to that. Saint dug up another forkful, thinking how great Hell was. Here were his friends, the hot needles that liked to jab him every now and again, making him appreciate the camaraderie and the good times.
“You look like a man who’s pretty happy these days, Saint,” Steel observed.
“I’m the same guy I was last week. Although I might not be the same man I was once I finish eating this.” He swigged down a generous mouthful of whiskey and sighed. “What do you hear from Judy?”
“Not much. Barely anything.” Steel looked destroyed. “Says she’s doing fine, enjoying her visit with her sister.” He sighed heavily. “Every hour she’s away seems like a day.”
A couple of months ago, he would have thought Steel was a bit whipped to have said something like that. But now, when he compared his feelings for Cameron with the sentiments Steel was expressing, he totally got it. And his friends were right: He was changing, thanks to Cameron.
“She’ll be back, Steel,” he said. “She’s just having a catch-up with her sister and her kids.” Saint’s gaze went to Trace and Declan, who were keeping the same guilty secret about Judy’s illness that he was.
“I know. Doesn’t make it any easier. I miss that bright smile and the trouble she stirs up.”
The Outlaws glanced at one another, went back to digesting the indigestible on their plates.
“You know,” Declan said, “I now realize that all those MREs in the Navy prepared me for coming home to Stephen’s cooking.”
They laughed because it was true, and because there was no place any of them would rather be at this moment.
Except bed. I’d rather be hitting the sack with Cameron. Or the sofa, the floor, anywhere.
I’m crazy about her.
He just hoped he didn’t end up like Steel, with only a Saturday Night Special to show for his troubles.
Which was why he’d made it his holy grail to make sure that Cameron never left his bed without a damn good reason to return. He was not a once-a-week kind of guy.
He was beginning to think he might be the kind of guy who settled down—for good.
Chapter 14
The moment Cameron gave up her virginity to Saint, she’d felt a shifting from her past, a switch from the old things she’d wanted to the new things she’d never known she wanted.
Which meant she was spending entirely too much time with him. She knew as well as anyone did that the Outlaws weren’t the kind of men who looked for permanent relationships, and she wasn’t in a place in her life to want one of those, anyway. Saint was too pigheaded to change, although lately he’d been very quiet about his opinions. He trained her without complaining, and he trained her hard, every morning. She was beginning to feel confident in her path to becoming a bullfighter. He didn’t complain about her going into law enforcement, either.
But what worried her was that he hadn’t said a single word about the kissing booths. The parade was in less than a week, and Hell looked like a different place. Windows had been cleaned, repairs had been made to the shops along the main street. Pretty red, white, and blue decorations had been strung on the lampposts, and a banner was stretched over the main entrance to town that read Welcome to Hell.
A long time ago she would have thought that banner was hilarious. Not anymore. Now she hoped they got a ton of visitors and that the kissing booth was a success. So far, Ivy had been quite willing to work with her on planning the competition between the Hell’s Belles and Ivy’s girls. Even the Horsemen were pitching in their services.
She thought she’d heard that Stephen was considering participating, which would be awesome. He was an amazingly handsome man with his long, dark, straight hair and his smooth, walnut-colored skin. The longer she spent in Hell, the more she appreciated his cooking. Judy claimed he was the best, and Cameron was beginning to agree, although it was hard to beat Hattie’s red-eye gravy.
She gave Charlie a last pat before she put him in his stall. “There you go, boy. A good rest and some fresh hay. You earned it.”
He swished his tail, happy to be in his stall and out of the midday sun. Cameron left the barn and ran smack into Saint.
“Hi.” She detached herself from his chest with great reluctance. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize.” His eyes twinkled. “I don’t ever complain when a beautiful woman runs into my arms.”
He went into the barn. Cameron looked after him, still amazed by the change in him. It was as if he was determined to give her space, and lots of it. Which was annoying, somehow. She almost missed the possessive Saint, because he was at least honest about his feelings.
This Saint was hiding everything.
She shook her head and went to find Harper.
“By the way,” Saint called after her, and she stopped, turning around.
“Yes?”
“Take my name out of the kissing booth gig. I don’t want to help run it.”
She hesitated. “Why?”
He waved and went on, not about to answer the question. Cameron shrugged. As long as he kissed her, she wasn’t going to complain about him putting a dent in the parade proceeds.
Now that she thought about it, she didn’t want to kiss any other men. Which was probably exactly why Saint was dropping out—to get her to drop out. “Oh, sneaky,” she murmured.
She decided to test that theory, and went to find him. He was in his office, riffling through some papers. She closed the door when he glanced up.
“Why?” she asked again.
“Because I can’t kiss for three solid hours in a kissing booth and then give you the three solid hours you deserve at night.”
She felt herself go a bit pink. Last night had been an all-out glorious lovemaking session. “I’m still going to participate in the fund-raiser.”
He grinned. Slowly approached her. Lifted her up onto his desk, plunked her down on her fanny. “No, you’re not.”
He spread her legs, fitting himself in between them. Okay, this couldn’t happen. He couldn’t just romance her every time he wanted things his way. Well, maybe he could, because he knew how much she liked it when he kissed her. But it wasn’t going to work. Obviously she couldn’t allow him to get the idea that he could just kiss his way out of their every disagreement.
“Yes, I am,” she said. “And just to be clear—”
He caught her mouth with his, kissing her into silence. He cradled her face gently between his palms, belying the hot passion he was forging between them as he stroked her mouth with his tongue, his lips. Cameron heard herself moan against his mouth, realized she was losing the small battle that was being waged.
When he pulled away, she gasped, her body on fire.
She didn’t want him to stop. And by the twinkle in his eyes, he knew it.
“No, you
’re not.” He opened his office door, leaving her stranded on his desk, hot enough to melt into a puddle. “But it won’t be because I want it that way. You won’t be in the kissing booth, because you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the only man you want tasting your lips is me. I have a suspicion I was your first, Cameron, and I’m planning on being your last.”
She stared at him, stunned.
“I’m right, aren’t I? You had never been with a man before me. Which means you like me, Cameron Dix, and you like me a lot. Maybe almost as much as I like you.”
He went out, still grinning, sure of himself, and closed the door.
Jerk.
He’d left her steaming with desire, crazy worked-up for him. Shocked and breathless from his words. He knew so much about her she hadn’t been able to share. He gloried in the knowledge of her feelings for him, was waiting for her to give herself to him completely and totally, was confident everything was going to go his way.
She sat on the desk for a long time, trying to remember why she shouldn’t fall one hundred percent head over heels for him.
“Oh, who am I kidding?” she muttered.
All she wanted was Saint. He’d known it before she did, and that was why he’d been smiling, the rascal.
Which was exactly why he was an Outlaw. And exactly why she was falling for him a little more each day.
—
Everything was in order on the day of the parade. Cameron couldn’t have asked for more. The weather was fine, not a hint of rain among the sunbaked clouds. People had turned out, more than she’d expected, to experience the small-town fun. The kissing booths were humming. There was a quarter-mile of people standing in line for the Outlaws and the Hell’s Belles, and about the same for the Horsemen.
But for some reason, Ivy’s girls had never shown up for booth time, and there was no sign of Ivy herself. Hattie was doing a great job as parade marshal, greeting the visitors and steering them toward the baked goods and fresh fruits and vegetables, and of course, the kissing booths, which had turned out to be a main attraction before the parade.
Cameron wasn’t sure what to make about Ivy’s no-show. The Horsemen, to be fair, were definitely pulling their weight, which seemed to be chapping the hides of the Outlaws. She’d heard the mutters.
“There’s some discontent in the ranks.”
Cameron jumped at the sound of Saint’s voice in her ear. “I know. Why didn’t Ivy and her girls show up?”
“Because she knows your booth is going to win.” He smiled at her, and her blood pressure jumped. Dark eyes drank her in, and a slight breeze that took the edge off the hot day lifted the long, ebony hair that brushed his collar. “I can’t help but notice you’re not in your booth.”
She favored his comment with a lifted brow. “Maybe I have a later shift.”
He laughed. “I saw your name scratched off the sheet. But if you don’t want to tell me why you changed your mind, I understand.”
“Someday, Saint Markham, all that cocky talk you throw around is going to get you in trouble.”
“I hope it does. I look forward to that.” He winked at her and strolled off, having set up his own fund-raising event, one that included rides on some of his gentlest horses and a small petting zoo that featured bunnies, chickens, and a few goats he’d rounded up from Rory and a few other friends. The little kids from the city loved the animals, and it was clear that having a picture taken with the big, beefy longhorn with the incredibly long horns was quite the popular draw. Lucky was also garnering his share of attention, the kids thrilled to bend down and pet the sweet puppy, who was growing by leaps and bounds under Saint’s care. She watched Saint, admiring his easy way with the children. Felt her heart hitch a little, in a funny sort of way. He was great with kids.
And the best part was, he wasn’t kissing other women.
But she thought they were still locked into a battle of wills, because he hadn’t made love to her, either. When she’d gone to his house, he’d kissed her senseless, and then held her in his arms in bed, but lovemaking—no. He’d made it clear that was off the table.
Teasing her into admitting she wanted only him.
Maybe it was time one of them took that leap of faith.
Something was holding her back. Maybe she was surprised he was angling for some kind of commitment from her, when she’d never expected him to want one.
He wasn’t happy with a just-sex, no-strings relationship, apparently.
She wasn’t, either, something she knew deep inside her.
It was all happening so fast. Maybe she wasn’t ready for more than what they had right now.
Perhaps she could explain that to him tonight—if she could get past the sense of worry and unexplained resistance nagging her. She went over to the petting zoo, watching as he gently picked up a hen with long black feathers, stroking it to calm it.
“She’s getting a little overexcited from all the attention,” Saint said. “I’m going to put her in the truck.”
He ambled off, securing the hen in a shady spot where she could rest awhile. Came back, grinned at Cameron. “So, are you here to help?”
“No. I was just going to tell you not to expect—” She stopped as Eli Larson walked by, one hand full of multicolored balloons that wafted in the breeze. Children followed him eagerly, like he was the Pied Piper of Hell. Cameron smiled, not sure he quite had the hang of giving the balloons away to the children, but then was surprised when he actually gave away two.
Then he saw Lucky and walked over to the puppy, reaching for him. “No, Eli, buddy. Lucky stays here.”
Eli looked at Saint, confused. He tried to hand him the balloons, obviously trading for the dog. Saint shook his head. “Lucky’s my dog, Eli. But you can pet him.”
Eli didn’t want to pet the dog. He decided he wanted to give Lucky a balloon. Cameron watched, saddened, as Saint steered the veteran away from the dog.
“Poor Eli,” she said when Saint returned. “Does he need to be in some kind of place where he can get help?” There had to be someplace with veterans’ benefits where he could be treated.
Saint shook his head. “No, there’s no place like that in Hell. And the committee—Hattie, Dr. Ann, Judy, Steel, Jimmy Merrill, and so on—want to keep him in Hell. The Outlaws aren’t ready to shuck off one of our brothers yet, so we’re in complete agreement with the committee. As far as we can tell, Eli’s pretty happy—happier than he’d be somewhere else, anyway, because Hell is his home. He sleeps in the odd truck bed and gets around by hitching rides, and we check on him often. He gets all the food he wants whenever he wants it, thanks to the general fund.” Sighing, he watched Eli move through the crowd again. “He’s ours. We’re going to keep him here as long as we can.”
She nodded. It would be hard on Eli to leave. One day that would have to happen, but not right now.
“He’s a little stirred up because Judy’s been gone so long. Judy’s like a mother to him, I guess,” Saint said, smiling as he watched the kids play with the animals. “Judy’s been the one constant caregiver in his life for the past fifteen years.”
He touched her hand briefly, catching her fingers in his before releasing them. Her gaze jumped to his; the physical connection, though only momentary, had somehow bonded them. “You were telling me something?” he asked.
She had been telling him something. She was going to say that she couldn’t make it tonight; they needed a break. Okay, maybe only she needed a break, but it was clear to her that whatever this was between them was moving really fast for her. And she wasn’t sure fast was what she needed in her life. Cameron just wasn’t sure how she could explain that to him.
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Pulling it out, she read the text from her mother.
Anna has come up pregnant by some stupid guy she met in a bar. Said he was a first-year prelaw student and that he was looking for a relationship. Can she come stay with you for a while until she gets her head on straight?
&nbs
p; Anna was the youngest of the seven children; Cameron was the eldest at twenty-five. Anna was sixteen, spoiled rotten thanks to being the baby and a beauty. Cameron sighed.
“Bad news?” Saint asked.
She shook her head. “No. Listen, I’ve got to go make a phone call.”
“Cameron.”
She turned. “Yes?”
“Congratulations on turning this day into the best one Hell has ever had.”
She nodded. “Thanks. It’s amazing being in a town where everybody wants to be helpful.”
She walked away, her heart broken by her sister’s news. There was going to be all kinds of craziness in her family now. Her brothers would be out for blood, her sisters would be agog. And no one would do anything except panic.
Poor Anna. Cameron got in her borrowed truck, needing to get away from the pageantry and the happy, smiling people—and most of all, from the handsome, sexy hunk who had turned her nights into heaven. What had she been thinking? She’d known she was here to grab the brass ring Judy had offered each of them on the team. This was her shot at getting out from underneath the Dix family crazy train. There was no room for error.
But in truth, she’d made a big error, and that was Saint. She knew as well as he did that you couldn’t build a relationship solely on sex. There were a lot of ways to lose your way in the world, and sometimes it was out of your control.
But she’d had control, and she’d known better than to fall for a man who was just this side of bad-boy. Dix women weren’t known for making wise choices in mates—look at her mother. As much as Cameron loved her father, Howard Arthur Dix was a rascal. He was the main reason the family was disorganized and rampant with crisis. You never knew whether he’d be home or off looking for the next big thing that was going to make him a million dollars.
All he’d done over the years was drive them further into debt, with his drinking, gambling, whoring. Cameron had been determined not to be like her father; she’d be steady, reliable, a planner.
