“Grab those two empty seats before someone else does!”
A knot twisted Taylor’s stomach when Clint and Erin scooted into the chairs on the other side of the table.
“Oh. My. God,” Erin said, with her mouth gaping after realizing who was across from her. “Can you believe this, Clint? It’s your ex and her new man.”
With her hands clenching at her sides under the table, Taylor took a deep breath and felt Brett squeeze her thigh.
Chapter Twenty
“Hi, Taylor,” Clint said, clearing his throat and setting two shot glasses of gold liquid on the table. “I didn’t notice you when I made a beeline to this table. Do you mind us sitting here?”
She shrugged. “It’s a free world.”
Obviously recognizing Clint from the posters hanging around town, Brett quietly said to her, “We can move if you’re uncomfortable.”
Suddenly wondering if the meeting had been arranged by divine intervention, Taylor decided she should take advantage of the moment and grill Clint to determine if he’d been with Jamie anytime before her death. That way, she could either keep him on her suspect list or mark him off. “I don’t care if you sit here,” she said, nodding and politely saying hello to Erin, who flashed her fake smile.
“Thanks.” Clint eyeballed Brett. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend, Taylor?”
“This is Brett Austin.”
“He’s the foreman of the Slash Y,” Erin piped up. “We met yesterday.” She batted her eyelashes and tipped one of the shot glasses up to her parted red-painted lips. Clint’s mouth slanted into a lopsided grin and he extended his hand to shake.
“Clint Sheridan.”
“I know who you are,” Brett said, keeping one hand in his lap and the other on Taylor’s thigh.
“All right then,” Clint chuckled, taking back his hand. His fingers wrapped around his shot glass and he knocked back the liquor in one fell swoop. “I suppose you’ve seen me on some posters around town,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m running for CEO. It’s the highest political office in Prosperity. My grandfather ran the town for years. I expect to follow in his footsteps.”
Taylor knew he was bragging, because she and Clint had already talked about his running for office when they bumped into each other outside the sheriff’s department. “I’m surprised you’d be interested in that kind of a professional position,” she reiterated, remembering that conversation. “You never did care to work hard, or full-time, as I recall.”
He laughed at the same time his eyes narrowed. “There’s no law that says everyone has to work a forty-hour week, Taylor. As I recall, you were away from the house more than you were at home, working hard enough for both of us.”
“Someone had to pay the bills.”
“Ouch,” he winced. “That stings, but I guess I deserve it. I made a few mistakes back then, but I’ve changed.” He threw an arm around Erin’s shoulder and winked at her.
“A tiger doesn’t change his stripes so easily. You hardly changed your underwear without me nagging, as I recall.” Taylor shared a smile with Brett and felt her leg jumping with nervous tension.
“Poor Taylor. You never were clever at jokes either,” Clint replied, shaking his head.
“Is that why you slept with my sister?” she blurted, realizing too late that she was headed down a path she hadn’t intended on taking. “Because she made you laugh?”
Clint straightened his spine and gnawed his lower lip. “Let’s not start that again. Not here in a public place, and especially not in front of my fiancée and your friend. That’s water under the bridge.”
“Yeah,” Erin pouted. “You’re so rude. You never did like me. You just want to make Clint look bad in front of your boyfriend because Clint and I are getting married.”
Taylor had planned on teasing information out of Clint, but he was such a pig, and Erin was just as much of an annoyance that it was hard to bite her tongue. However, she still had enough control to lower her voice in order to not make a scene. “What’s wrong, Clint? Are you afraid Erin will find out about you and Jamie? And I’m not referring to when you cheated on me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Lightning flashes sparked from Clint’s eyes and his voice took on a hard edge.
Brett slid a quiet look at her, probably wondering what she was up to. She wasn’t sure herself. She only knew that Clint and Erin could get under her skin like a tick. “Everyone in Prosperity knows you and Jamie behaved like a couple of rooting hogs when you were cheating on me. You weren’t discreet. I guess old habits never die. I heard someone saw you and her together right before she died, catching up on old times, probably.”
“Hey!” Erin scrunched up her nose. “Clint and I have been engaged for six months. What are you insinuating?”
Taylor shrugged her shoulders. “Once a cheater, always a cheater. Isn't that how the saying goes?”
With her eyes blazing like they were on fire, Erin shot Clint a caustic look and punched him in the arm.
“Ow!”
“Is that true, Clint? Did you cheat on me with that ho?”
Taylor leaned back in her chair enjoying the fireworks she’d set off.
Clint’s face became redder than Santa’s suit. “Don’t believe anything she says, honey. We both know she’s full of shit. You’d better shut up,” he growled, pointing his finger at Taylor’s face.
“I’d advise you to do the same, hot shot,” Brett warned, slamming his fist on the table and causing them all to jump.
Exhilaration coursed through Taylor’s body. Brett standing up for her sent her heart pounding insanely.
“You keep out of this, cowpoke.” Clint jutted out his chin. “This is between me and Taylor.”
“I’d watch who you’re calling a cowpoke,” Brett said, rolling up one of his sleeves. “Your threatening her is the same as threatening me. I don’t mind taking this outside.”
Taylor closed her eyes and sighed, wishing she’d kept her big mouth shut.
“Let’s do it,” Clint said, bolting up from his chair.
Erin squealed at the same time Taylor’s eyes flew open and she grabbed Brett’s arm. “Don’t do this, Brett. He’s not worth the trouble.”
“We’re gonna slow down the music now, folks,” the D.J. announced over the loud speaker, interrupting the banter that had quickly gotten out of hand. “Cowboys, grab your favorite cowgirl and boot-scoot-boogie it onto the dance floor. It’s time for a little teasing, squeezing and pleasing your gal.”
The lights dimmed and couples streamed onto the floor like ants following a trail of sugar. As Tim McGraw and Faith Hill began to croon their duet, “Let’s Make Love,” Taylor tugged on Brett’s sleeve and said, “Dance with me.” The air was so thick with testosterone it could have been cut with a knife.
With his eye firmly set on Clint, Brett gulped down the rest of his beer and then pushed back from the table and stood up. A thrill skittered across Taylor’s heated skin when he entwined his fingers between hers. As they moved past Clint on the way to the dance floor, Brett bumped Clint’s shoulder and said, “Mind your manners or you will have me to deal with.”
“Clint, I don’t know what you ever saw in her,” Taylor heard Erin grumble as they walked away and onto the dance floor.
Without hesitation, Brett’s arms wound around Taylor like a spool of thread. He pressed his length against her body and they began to sway to the music.
“That was interesting,” she said, peering into his bemused face.
“What were you trying to do? Start a riot? I thought I was really going to have to fight the man. I still might have to. I’d sure hate to get blood on this shirt.”
She chuckled, feeling the tension melting off his body. “I’m sorry, Brett. The two of them bring out the worst in me, I guess.”
He nodded and pulled her tighter, if that were possible. “Is that true, what you said about someone having seen him and your
sister together?”
She shook her head. “Not that I’m aware. I said it to get a rise out of him, to see how he’d react. It could be possible. According to the stories I heard when Clint and I separated, he and Jamie had no self-restraint when it came to each other. They could have taken up where they’d left off once he moved back here. He acted like it might be true, which, of course he wouldn’t want Erin to know. If Jamie threatened to tell Erin...well, that's pretty good motivation to shut her up, in my opinion.”
Brett dipped his hand under her hair and rubbed the back of her neck. “Let’s stop talking about your ex-husband. From the instant we walked in, I was thinking about how I was going to get you out here on the dance floor so I could put my arms around you. Thanks for taking care of that for me. Now I want to enjoy this moment.”
“I’d told you before I don’t dance.”
“Line dancing. You didn’t mention slow dancing. Anyway, you need this as therapy for your sore body.”
She grinned. “What a thoughtful man you are.” Against his rock-hard chest, Taylor felt the pounding of Brett’s heart and knew hers was beating in cadence. The scent of his cologne teased her nostrils as he whispered, “I like this song,” into her neck.
“Me, too,” she whispered back.
Listening to Tim and Faith sing the sensual lyrics about making love all night long, while enfolded in Brett’s arms, sent a spark racing from Taylor’s neck to the tips of her toes. His fingers wound through her tresses. Then she felt his hands travel over her back. The delicate hair on her neck stood up when his fingers lightly tickled her nape. Darkness pulled in around her as she closed her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe.
This was not a song intended for those weak of heart—or body. Taylor’s hormones raged as she lost herself in the intoxicating sensation of her pelvis rocking in perfect rhythm with Brett’s. It had been so long since she’d had a proper kiss, let alone made love. If he didn’t at least kiss her tonight, she was going to explode.
When the song ended, Brett tipped her chin up. Their gazes fused. He touched his lips to hers and her internal flame ignited like a torch. The kiss was soft and sweet and it ended way too soon—rendering Taylor speechless and desiring more.
“You’re a good dancer,” he drawled, staring intently and still holding her. Like a fool, she could only smile. Then the lights went up like a sunburst to brighten the room, and the loud music started thumping through the speakers again. Line dancers flooded the floor crowding around them.
Taylor wished the D.J. had played another slow song because she didn’t want Brett to let loose. Seemed he didn’t want to either. But when strangers’ shoulders started bumping against them, he hesitantly released her. Grasping her hand, they walked off the floor.
“Do you want another beer?” he shouted over the noise.
“Sure.” She watched the dancers stomp and glide in unison while he went for two more beers. When he returned to her side he said, “You don’t want to go back to that same table, do you?”
“No way.” The last thing she wanted was to have any further contact with Clint and Erin. She’d made a big enough fool of herself already. “Do you want to go watch the mechanical bull for a few minutes?”
He nodded and followed her, carrying both mugs, as she threaded her way through the crowd. “Thanks,” she said, taking her beer from him once they reached the bull. They stood at the rail drinking and watching a line of young cowboys as they mounted the mechanical beast, got jerked around, and whipped off one by one.
“That’s Glenn, one of our ranch hands,” Brett said, when a young man wobbled into the bullpen and attempted to climb on top of the bull. The contraption had horns and a head that actually resembled a bull. Obviously intoxicated, everyone roared with laughter when Glenn jumped on top and slipped off the other side several times. Finally the bull operator helped him onto the machine and the spectators clapped and whistled.
With the operator controlling the speed and spin of the machine, it didn’t take but a couple of seconds for Glenn to be flung off the beast and onto his back in the padded ring. A large man the size of a lumberjack plodded in and reached to help him when it was apparent Glenn was unable to get up on his own.
“That man’s name is Tumbleweed,” Brett told Taylor.
“I remember seeing him at the corral. He’s huge.” She glanced around but didn’t see Charlie anywhere. “I wonder where Charlie and that other guy are.”
“Dash?”
“Yeah.”
“Probably shooting pool and trying to avoid me. I doubt either of them enjoyed the talk we had earlier.”
When a young woman wearing a tube top and a short skirt entered the bullpen and hiked her leg over the mechanical bull, the men in the crowd went wild with cheers and started taking pictures of her with their cell phones. The girl, who had to have been in her early twenties, didn’t have underwear on. She raised her arm in the air and the operator started the bull rotating and jerking—obviously powering it up on purpose. With each rollicking buck, the girl’s skirt shimmied up her thighs to show off all God had given her.
Taylor glanced at Brett to check his reaction and was very pleased to see he was looking at her—not watching the escapade that was taking place in the ring. He shook his head. “Sad,” he said into her ear. “That girl should have more respect for herself.”
That simple statement told her so much about him. Morals and caring about others were characteristics that were sorely lacking in the crazy celebrity world she lived in.
A moment later, her thoughts flooded with memories of Jamie. She’d been one of those girls who had done stupid stuff like this for attention. Her behavior had spiraled out of control after Daddy died, and it had only grown worse as she grew older. For reasons Taylor was still unsure of, Jamie had spent most of her life self-destructing by drinking, drugging and engaging in promiscuity. But in her opinion, Jamie had hit rock bottom when she slept with Clint.
Taylor took some steadying breaths to regain balance. It did no good to go back in time and rehash the past. With therapy, she’d done well to travel beyond the anger and bitterness. After a patina of sorrow had gradually covered over the pain, she should have been able to forgive Jamie. But it had not happened because there’d been no sense of closure.
There were still fleeting moments when resentment bubbled under the surface threatening to erupt. However, Jamie was dead and Taylor had promised Mama she’d do what she could to find her killer. It was a promise she would try to keep. No matter what Jamie had done years ago, Mama was right. They’d been sisters—thick as thieves once. If only Jamie had said she was sorry before she died. It would have been easier to forgive and forget if only she’d taken responsibility for her actions and apologized.
“Are you all right, Taylor?” Rousing her from her reminiscences, Brett leaned in front of her with concern lining his handsome face.
“Yes. I was just thinking about my sister. Seeing Clint again after all these years has stirred up memories like a hornet’s nest. But I’m fine.” She smiled and finished the beer.
Feeling a tap on her shoulder a minute later, Taylor turned her head and groaned. “What do you want now?”
The veins in the whites of Erin’s eyes were red to match her lipstick. Apparently she’d had one too many shots. “I dare you to ride this bull,” she slurred.
Clint appeared behind Erin and squeezed her neck. Taylor could tell he’d also had more drinks after she and Brett had left the table to dance. The expression on his drunken face was one she was familiar with. She glanced at Brett to see him glowering at her ex.
“You here to start more trouble?” he asked.
Clint shook his head. “I’m too drunk to fight. Besides, I’ve got no beef with you. I’m just following my lady around.”
“I dare you,” Erin repeated to Taylor.
Taylor rolled her eyes. She and Erin had vied for every prize for almost their entire lives. And Jamie had felt the need
to compete with her too. Why did everything between women have to be a challenge? Taylor was sick of it. “We’re grownups now,” she argued. “I’m done competing with you, Erin.” She turned toward Brett and shook her head. “The woman is pathetic. I wish she’d grow up.”
“What was that?” Erin dug her fingernails into Taylor with an iron grip and spun her around.
“Take your mitts off me,” Taylor warned, shrugging her off.
“Cat fight!” someone yelled.
“I have twenty bucks here that says Blondie can stay on the bull the longest,” someone else said, holding a greenback in the air.
Erin smiled triumphantly.
“I’ll put twenty on the brunette,” another man hollered. Soon, people were making bets on which of the two women would ride the bull the longest.
“Guess we have to do it now,” Erin said to Taylor. “Or we’ll let down our fans.” Her body swayed like she might fall down.
“Honey, this might not look so good for my campaign manager to be involved in betting,” Clint said, trying to turn Erin around to face him.
“Don’t worry, Clint. I’m not riding this bull,” Taylor stated. “I don’t care how much money anyone waves around.”
Erin pursed her lips, stuck her face in Clint’s and said, “You can’t tell me what to do. I’ll ride this damn bull if I want.”
He shook his head, apparently knowing she was beyond controlling. “Well, I’m not participating in this. I’m running for CEO, for God’s sakes.”
A twisted thought came to Taylor. It might be funny to see Clint and Erin’s names plastered across the local newspaper tomorrow morning as headline news. That would be great payback for the years both of them had made her life miserable. Her gaze went from Erin to the bull and back again. What the hell? If it would shut Erin up once and for all and make Clint look stupid in the process, she’d do it.
“You don’t have to,” Brett said, reading her mind and placing his hand on her shoulder. “I can see the wheels spinning. You want to beat her, don’t you?”
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