by Susan Arden
Abstinence. As in zero hot sex.
No one in town knew they hadn’t done it.
Everyone assumed since he was the youngest stud from the McLemore clan, he had given her a ride to dream about—scream about. Oh yeah, she was close to hollerin’—out of frustration.
“After the game, I’ll dance with you. Now, be good,” he said in a low voice. “And come back to me.”
Don’t fall for it, Kincaid! She’d had all she could stand, and soon things were going to change as far as who was pushing whom to the brink.
“No. Can’t,” she tossed back.
“Girl, you don’t want to make me get off this stool and get a hold of you. Not without having a beer first.”
“Who says you could even catch me if you did,” she snorted, and then leveled him with her best-cocked eyebrow, the pierced one that he’d huffed plenty about when she’d come back from a girls’ weekend in Dallas last year. She glanced over to her girlfriends on the dance floor. Both of them were hooked up for the evening with a pair of frisky musicians who had more on their minds besides watching a stupid football game and drinking beer. “One of these days, Rory, I might not be waiting around here while you wet your whistle and high-five all your friends.”
“You sound pretty ornery tonight. Something has got you going,” he said, leaning over her vacated stool, and tapped the surface with his hand. “Mind telling me what’s on the agenda? I’ve had a hard day and I ain’t in the mood to have you ride my ass all night, sugar.”
She stared into his captivating face, and took a hit from the same handsome firepower she’d let hypnotize her since the eleventh grade. A dark-haired devil in a Stetson, Rory held her imprisoned. Only now her shackled heart was chafed, leaving her on edge and hungry to feel the sting of something more than the snap of Rory’s words.
“I don’t have any plans. I just want to live in the moment. Is that so bad?” she asked.
“Of course not.”
“Then what?”
“Darlin’ some of us, have responsibilities and can’t take off to go teach children in Honduras.”
“It was Guatemala,” she said heatedly. “Are you saying that doing charity work is a waste of time?”
“Don’t twist my words, Sommer. You’re just in a fighting mood.”
Tears pricked her eyes and she swore under her breath; she wasn’t going to get outright upset here. Hell, she didn’t even know why he irked her so much. They’d endured a hundred breakups, but something about him had crept under her skin. She loved him…but she also needed to kick up her heels and feel the wind in her hair. Dive into a pool or the lake on the spur of the moment, fully clothed if it suited her. Or lie naked in a field and feel the sun on her skin. And Rory liked to…plan. Or fight, squashing her ideas if they didn’t get talked to death first. He tried to keep her boxed into a corner on some silly pretext of staying safe. How many times had he said, ‘Better safe than sorry?’ Too many to count.
Sommer scoffed, “Am not. I’m wanting to do more than watch television is all.”
“Baby, living by the seat of your pants is fine for someone like you.”
Someone like me? “What you mean someone like me, McLemore?” She planted her booted feet wider apart, stretching the bottom of her faded jean skirt.
“Nothing,” he muttered.
“At least I don’t act like I’m a hundred and one, like some folks. Playing cards and tossing darts. Your grandpa does that with his old cronies.”
“Look, I’m working like a madman, and it’s the busiest time of the year. Can we just not get into it tonight? You’re pushing me, baby.” He gazed back at her, a muscle in his cheek twitching and flashing a warning.
A warning she chose to ignore. “I work too, in case you forgot. Maybe I don’t deal with cattle or horses, but what I do isn’t easy and I’m here, wanting to be with you.”
Rory pushed his hat back on his head and picked up his beer and her drink. “You know I came here because there’s no other place I want to be.”
She shook her head. He just made her point. “At the Double Diamond. That’s not news!”
Inhaling, she walked the three steps back to him, took her shot of Tequila from his outstretched fingers, and knocked it against his beer mug.
“Suit yourself, cowboy,” she called out and slung her shot across her lips. No salt. No lime. Just booze. And the burn going down her throat didn’t match the burn in her chest. If Rory didn’t make a decision soon…
She stopped that line of thought. Slamming her shot glass down on the bar, she then turned on her heel and marched to the edge of the dance floor, her chest feeling tighter than if it were wrapped in masking tape. She leaned against a post, watching her girlfriends lip-locked with the guys they knew for what, like fifteen minutes?
Ivy and Jen weren’t even in a dark corner, but smack-dab in plain sight. She wondered what they’d be doing in another hour if they didn’t slow down. As if she’d rung a cowbell, Ivy looked up and met her gaze. Sommer flinched and quickly waved. Ivy shot a peace sign back, then pulled on Jen’s sleeve.
Jen peaked over the shoulder of the dark-haired guy whom she was dirty dancing with. Both of her girlfriends’ smiles widened and Jen winked, curling a finger at her to join them.
She shook her head and mouthed, “Naw. I’m good.”
The dude who was dancing with Jen turned around and gazed over at Sommer. He didn’t look away, but let his eyes roam down her body. He bent his head to her friend without breaking eye contact with Sommer, and said something that made Jen’s mouth form an ‘O.’ Jen shook her head, glancing over to her, and back again to the guy.
Sommer wondered what on earth that long-haired dude was actually thinking or discussing with Jen, ‘cause if it was anything like what she imagined, he’d get an earful from her. His eyes glinted within a hungry expression as he grinned, raking a set of fingers through his hair. Immediately she felt her cheeks heat from his unrelenting stare. She turned away from gawking at her friends and met the eyes of Lonny standing off to the side. He nodded, gulping down his drink, and lifting off the wall.
“Hey,” she said when he sauntered up to her. “What are you up to?”
“Just checking out the competition,” Lonny said and laughed bitterly. He’d recently broken up with his girlfriend and was back in the dating pool. Everyone’s business here in Annona was either in full spin along the grapevine, retired, or yet to make the rounds. Everyone knew he’d walked in on his girlfriend in bed with another man.
That had to suck, she thought. Lonny was a couple years older than her, a local ranch hand, and always cordial to Sommer and her friends.
“What about you?” Lonny asked.
“I’m going outside to get some air,” she said. “I’ll catch you around.”
“Mind if I come with you?” He added, “I could use a smoke.”
“If you’re willing to share, then sure,” she replied. Crossing her arms over her chest, she slanted a glance back at the bar and watched Rory, now standing between a couple of his friends, laughing and cheering on the Dallas Devils who just scored. He didn’t turn, and she wasn’t about to go over to try and catch his eye.
She hadn’t exactly out-and-out admitted to Rory that she smoked. If he got wind of her smoking habits, it would be just another thing for him to go hog-wild about. No need to supply him with extra fuel for when he wanted to rain on her parade.
Once outside, she inhaled a slow breath to calm her nerves and looked around, noticing there weren’t many people coming and going. Of course, not with the game on. Most folks were stationed in front of a television around these parts.
She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and turned toward Lonny when she felt the hairs all over her body stand up as though on alert. He glanced at her in a way that she hadn’t noticed before. Something similar to how the guy on the dance floor had perused her, but coming from Lonny—a guy she’d known for years—it unnerved her. She blinked, unwilling to
believe what she observed was real. She faltered, gazing at the entrance door, and suddenly her desire to go back inside flared.
“Here,” Lonny said and offered her a Marlboro from his pack.
They weren’t far from the main entrance, just kitty-corner and not more than two yards away from the nearest lamppost. But still, she got a strange inkling. She took the cigarette and dipped her head, taking a drag to light the end from his outstretched lighter.
“Thanks,” she said.
“No problem.” He lifted the lighter toward his face, holding the flame to his own cigarette, and once again she noticed the look in his eyes, now reflecting the red-hot end of his cig, and something that wasn’t quite right.
She coughed on the puff of smoke she’d just inhaled and squinted from the tears flowing into her eyes. When she opened her eyes, she focused on him tossing his lit cigarette to the ground and at first, failed to notice Lonny’s hands reaching for her. In a second, he pulled her against him and then back toward the edge of the building. It happened so fast, she couldn’t think.
“Stop it!” she wailed. Caught by surprise, she couldn’t conceive that he actually meant her harm.
“Don’t play hard to get with me,” he said and laughed. “We both know what you want. And need.”
“You’re wrong.” She wrenched her arm backward, yanking her wrist, but he snapped her arm—sharp enough to send a jolt of pain racing into her shoulder.
“One kiss,” he demanded, jerking her arm behind her back.
She nearly tripped and he caught her around her waist. The smell of pungent alcohol on his breath assaulted her. “I came out to smoke and you’d better let me go. For the last time, take your hands off me.”
“Let’s first do what we came out here for.”
“Lonny, let me go!”
He pushed her up against the building, so hard her head knocked against the wall. Outraged that he refused to listen to her, she crushed the lit end of her cigarette against the top of his hand.
“Fucking tease!” he snarled when she got loose. She started to run but he recaptured her, snagging her around her waist with both of his arms.
“Stop!” she panted, trying to claw his arms.
“Take your goddamn hands off Sommer,” Rory’s voice rose in back of her. She glanced over her shoulder, the air evaporating from her lungs.
“Fuck you. You ain’t’ the police, and this girl wants a real man. Not one of you McLemores who think you can do as you please. Use up and disregard any women who comes your way. I bet I can take care of this one.” Lonny wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her against him, a barrier between Rory and him.
“Stop. Are you crazy?” She pulled on Lonny’s arms but he only chuckled. She turned her face, making eye contact with Rory and encountering his dark angry expression, and she realized, this was getting seriously screwed up.
Rory stepped closer and growled, “Sommer made it clear that she wants you to stop touching her. Take your fucking hands off her, dipshit.”
“Or what? You gonna make me?” Lonny sneered.
“Rory, don’t do anything…you’ll regret,” she whispered, already having had the displeasure of seeing him get upset like this before. The youngest of his brothers and he’d been given the fieriest temperament in a long line of men who had perfected the art of getting angry and getting even. All his brothers had proven they could trounce, knock, and kick the stuffing out of whoever was dumb enough to provoke them.
Rory glanced at her and gave her a curt shake of his head. The muscle hinged at the corner of his jaw pulsed a line across the bottom of his cheek. A huge warning sign that meant he was going to unleash on Lonny. She tried to pull free but Lonny jerked her back, and the lines in Rory’s face tensed. His eyes seemed to flatten and his lips thinned into a severe line of controlled rage.
“Sommer said to unhand her…didn’t she? Last. Chance.” Rory’s voice went deadly low and hung in the air.
“Shut the fuck up, McLemore. Better getting moving. Last I heard, you had no claim on Sommer.”
Rory’s eyes flicked up and down the front of her and seemed to focus on her middle where Lonny held onto her with his hands. She thrashed, trying to elbow Lonny but ended up stomping her booted heel down on his instep. He howled and raised his hand as though he were going to strike Sommer, and then Rory lunged forward. She didn’t know exactly what he did, but Lonny’s other hand lifted off her waist and Rory shouted, “Go back inside, Sommer. Now!”
She backed away, all the while watching Rory’s curled hands form into fists and begin to pound Lonny in the face, then his middle. Sounds fill the humid air as Rory swung and grunted. He used both of his fists in a rapid paced rhythm of jabs and hard-hitting punches. Lonny crumbled forward and Rory brought his knee up to meet the other man’s face as he slammed Lonny’s shoulders downward. She bit the back of her hand to stop from crying out.
When Lonny crumbled to the ground, Rory leaned a shoulder against the building, and bit out, “You ever touch Sommer again, I swear I’ll kill you.”
CHAPTER 2
“DIDN’T I SAY to go back inside?” Rory asked in a gravelly voice as soon as he noticed Sommer standing on the sidewalk in the shadows. Shit. He had no idea what to say to her as he walked away from Lonny. As the images of that asshole’s hands on her consumed him, his temper got shorter and his ability to speak intelligently lessened. His chest felt caged in steel barbed wire—the type that spun for miles on end at the top of the line fence back on the ranch. He hadn’t been this put out by Sommer ever—and they’d had more than their share of disagreements, arguments, and fights—but tonight he was ready to spit nails.
“Are you okay? I couldn’t just leave you out here.” Sommer crossed a patch of grass, coming into the light where he could see confusion blanketing her face.
“Yep. You?” he rasped.
“I’m fine.”
They stood closer to the front of the Diamond, where she leaned against the wall and he joined her. For seconds they simply stood together in a thickening silence, and he waited, wanting to say something. Finally, Sommer looked up at him.
“Rory, I don’t know what the heck got into Lonny.”
The ache to take hold of her ripped through him, roaring in his mind. Her floral fragrance, the one he knew so well that he could smell it in his sleep, swam around him and he clenched his jaw tighter.
“Dammit,” he swore, watching her for a second before he shifted his gaze upward.
“Thank you for coming out here in time,” she whispered. Her voice sounded hoarse—the way she sounded when she was upset, and that didn’t happen too often. He was the one who ranted, while she came across with a softer touch, whether it was with her words or her presence. She’d been aptly named Sommer…as brilliant and blinding as the light of summer. Invigorating as a misting rain. Sweeter than wild honey. But conversely, she was as stubborn as a mule.
“Jesus,” he said and pushed back his hat, unable to manufacture the right words to express his anger—or the depth of his torment if he’d been too late. She might be the one lying on the ground…instead of that fucker around the corner. “You can’t continue to do things on the fly, baby. Sommer, you need to put aside acting on impulse, just because some flaming idea catches fire.”
He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, and tried to find some measure of sanity within himself. God, the fury he felt brought him to the edge, and he struggled to refrain from acting on his own gut-wrenching impulses. If he did, he’d let loose on Lonny again. Rory curled his fists—a couple of his fingers were swollen from split knuckles. He didn’t have to inspect his hands to know the damage he’d more than likely walk away with tonight.
But if he didn’t get his shit together, he might do something stupid to let off some steam, like punching the side of the building. Then he risked breaking a few fingers or knuckles or bones in his hand. Wouldn’t be the first time.
“It wasn’t like that,” she said. “I
came out here to think.
“Don’t forget smoking, and don’t go all wide-eyed on me. Come with me.” He took her by the arm and walked away from Lonny, back around the other side of the bar where he wasn’t about to be overheard. He swung his face toward Sommer and his chest locked. What he’d give to deal with the root of his problem—his restless hunger to make Sommer his.
“I didn’t do anything…well, nothing reckless,” she huffed at him.
“Sommer, I disagree. You were sitting next to me. And then you weren’t. Not a word. You just walked out.”
“If you’re so interested in my whereabouts, then make a move. Not in a week. Now, Rory. Man up!” She looked like a mountain lion about to pounce with her hair flowing in wild waves over her shoulders, her eyes shining, and her full lips parted. He’d never seen Sommer this riled. The sight of her this worked up, prompted him to hold her against the brick wall as he fought to figure out what to do next.
“Girl. I am a man and that’s why this is hard. I’m not like Lonny or anyone else you know.”
If this girl only realized a tenth of what she did to him. His hell and heaven combined in how much he wanted her. Sommer swam in his blood. She plagued him from sun up until sun down. And now she pushed him at a time when he didn’t know if he could take it—hold back from crossing the line.
“Sometimes, Rory McLemore, I wish you were!” Sommer muttered.
“What are you saying?”
“I think you know. I’m tired of waiting. I don’t understand why we can’t do what we feel. Unless, it’s because…I don’t do it for you.”
He moved his hands to her hips and squeezed, so tempted to crush his body against hers and do what they both craved. God, he hungered to slide into her until they were joined, hip-to-hip. He’d make her eyes roll back in her beautiful head—his too—as he drove his dick all the way into her.
