Harlequin Superromance May 2016 Box Set

by Janice Kay Johnson

Well. Since he’d had his fingers inside her body.

  Ian had made her feel very good—and for a few minutes, anyway, she hadn’t thought of nightmares or death or bulls. She’d been in his arms, chasing a kind of freedom she’d only caught shadows of before. Nothing she’d ever done to herself had come close to what he’d done to her. And it had been glorious.

  Except now, she didn’t feel quite the same and she didn’t have the luxury of time to figure out if that was a good thing.

  She just knew she wanted him to do it again. She caught Ian looking at her and blushed. Furiously.

  The woman she’d been before her parents’ deaths would not have let Ian touch her like that. She wouldn’t have offered to do the same in return. She would have turned her back on him from the moment he’d offered his no-strings-attached kind of fun and that would have been that.

  Except it hadn’t been. And now there was no going back.

  She crossed her arms. Ian’s eyes widened. He shook his head the tiniest bit, and she remembered that she still didn’t have her bra on. So she uncrossed her arms and jammed her hands into her pockets.

  “There was an accident yesterday—except maybe it wasn’t an accident,” Ian explained into the expectant silence.

  “What happened?” Randy/Garth said.

  Ian looked at her. Hell. “One of my bulls got loose.” Her voice cracked on the last word and she had to look at the ground and swallow a few times.

  “He had to be put down,” Ian said for her.

  “Damn, that sucks.” Both Randy/Garth and Garth/Randy turned to look at her. “Anyone hurt?”

  “No.”

  At the same time Ian said, “I cracked one of her ribs tackling her out of the way. This is Lacy Evans. Owner of the Straight Arrow.”

  She glared at Ian, hard. What the hell was he doing—trying to make her look weak?

  “Wait.” The taller one took a step closer. “Don’t you own the bull that nearly ran me down?”

  She tried to remember if she’d heard the name of the rider Ian had saved. Randy seemed like a better fit than Garth. Randy was the taller cowboy. “Rattler is mine, yeah.”

  “Which bull died?”

  “Wreckerator.”

  “Well.” Randy took a step back. “That’s too bad.”

  “You said it was maybe not an accident?” Garth asked.

  Lacy looked at Ian. These were his people. If he trusted them, then she’d have to.

  And he apparently trusted them. “The panel that gave when the bull got out? Turns out it’d been cut.”

  Both men whistled. “Damn, Chief,” Randy said. “That’s low-down.”

  “We don’t know if it was random or if someone targeted Lacy specifically. If you guys hear anything...”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Garth said, scuffing his toe in the dirt. “Damn. I don’t like to think of people in our rodeo family pulling crap like this. I don’t like it.”

  Ian shrugged, as casual as could be. How did he do that? She was all out of sorts, and he looked as if he’d done nothing more than sit in a truck all night. “If you hear anything, let me know. The cut panel isn’t exactly common knowledge,” he added. “So keep it under your hats. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Randy and Garth said at the same time. Then Garth said to Ian, “You got a plan?”

  She didn’t like it a damned bit. Wreck had been her bull. Slim Smalls was out to ruin her name. And Jerome what’s-his-face had been the one to pin her to the side of the trailer.

  This was her fight, dammit. She would not stand around like some helpless arm candy while the all-knowing, all-capable men mounted a plan of action to save her from the big bads of the world.

  “No,” she said.

  “No?” Ian asked as they all three looked at her.

  “No,” she repeated with more force. “Look, I appreciate the help but I don’t even know you two, and you,” she added, turning to face Ian, “you can’t take over.”

  If she’d been expecting him to be insulted, she was sorely disappointed. If anything, he looked amused. “I can’t?”

  “No, you can’t. You guys are acting like there’s some sort of evil conspiracy to destroy me.” True, it did feel that way and had, ever since her parents had died. But she couldn’t let that fear rule her.

  Randy and Garth exchanged uncomfortable looks. “Coffee,” Garth said decisively.

  Randy was already climbing into the driver’s side of the truck. “We’ll be right back. With coffee.” Garth climbed up and within seconds, they were backing out of the lot, leaving Ian grinning at Lacy, and Lacy wondering what the hell she was doing. She needed help; she knew that. She’d spent most of the past month alone and somewhere between terrified and panicked about how she was going to make it all by herself.

  And Ian had offered to help her. He already had helped her.

  So why was she telling him to back off? Was this about the sex? If she hadn’t even gotten his pants undone, was it really sex?

  He kept on grinning at her and she kept on glaring at him until the crunch of tires on gravel had faded away and they were alone again.

  She was upset and she didn’t understand why. Anger was a real, tangible thing she could hold on to, and hold on to it she would. “You’ve got a real superiority complex. Is there anything you think you can’t handle?”

  He lifted his eyebrows in a gesture that pretty clearly read as no. “You’re probably hurting right now. When Randy and Garth get back with some coffee, you should—”

  “I don’t need you to save me,” she all but shouted. “I am perfectly capable of saving myself. I don’t need you to tell me when to eat and sleep and take meds. Or how to take care of my animals and run my business.” He opened his mouth but she cut him off. She drew herself up as tall as she could—which still left her several inches shorter than him—and did her best to look down her nose at him. “I’m a grown woman. I don’t need you. I can take care of myself.”

  Which wasn’t 100 percent true, and they both knew it. Wreckerator would have trampled her if he hadn’t gotten to her first. And Jerome—who knew how far he might have pushed it if Ian hadn’t been there?

  But she didn’t want to need him. She didn’t want to have to hope and pray that every time something went wrong Ian would be there to save her.

  She didn’t want to be the kind of person who needed to be saved.

  And damn his hide, Ian didn’t reply. He didn’t tell her she was ungrateful after all he’d done for her, and he didn’t even tell her she was prickly. “Are you done yet?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” The wind was suddenly gone from her sails and she felt foolish. She should be grateful that a man like Ian had an interest in her, that he was willing to help her out. That he liked her enough to offer a physical relationship, even if it was no-strings-attached.

  She turned away and headed back up to the pen where Chicken Run and Rattler were still dozing. The chains were all fastened. No one had cut them while she’d slept. She didn’t even know if Ian had gotten any sleep. Gah, she was an idiot. The sane person would have been grateful for the rest, for the orgasm, for the help.

  Which really only left one inescapable conclusion.

  She wasn’t exactly sane.

  She rested her forehead on the top of the pen railing and listened to the sound of her animals snort as they started to stir. Wasn’t it bad enough things were already a total mess? Did she have to keep making them worse?

  She heard Ian walking behind her, saw him kick up a boot onto the lower rung of the pen right next to her. She tensed as she waited for him to acknowledge what was so obvious—she wasn’t worth his effort, his attention.

  Yet he didn’t. He stood there, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body on this cool morning but not so close tha
t she could touch him without being really obvious about it. She wanted to rest her head against his shoulder and tell him she was sorry.

  She didn’t, of course. She couldn’t let him know how badly he’d turned her around, what with all his thoughtful gestures and hot hands and trying so hard to take care of her, even if she wouldn’t let him. She couldn’t show weakness. Not even to him.

  Never mind he’d already seen her pretty damned weak.

  “Who left you?” he asked in a low voice.

  She stiffened. “What?”

  “When you woke up, you were going on about how she didn’t want you and they left you and you were alone.” His voice was even, but he’d started tapping on the top of the railing with his fingers.

  She had done that, she remembered now. She’d fallen asleep in his arms and had nightmares and woke up crying. He must think her such a fool.

  She couldn’t look at his fingers. So she stared at Rattler.

  “Your dad died, I know.” His voice was still gentle. She wondered if this was how he talked to a spooked animal. “Did your mom do something after that?”

  Gah, she couldn’t have him thinking ill of Linda Evans. Mom might not have always been the warmest of mothers, but the woman had loved Lacy all the same. “No.”

  He waited. No coaxing, no explaining. No telling her why she was wrong or crazy for not accepting his help. None of that. He just waited.

  She took a deep breath. She could say this out loud. It’d been months, after all. She could do this without falling apart. “They died together. Car accident. On their way home from my college graduation.”

  Those were the facts, as plainly stated as could be. Nothing emotional about them.

  Each word felt as if it’d ripped away part of her soul. Part of her knew she should have died with them. Dad had been driving the family Suburban with the horse trailer full of her belongings and Lacy had the truck. She’d gotten a bit ahead of them and had stopped at a McDonald’s to wait. But Mom hadn’t answered her phone or replied to Lacy’s texts about where to meet up.

  She’d sat at that McDonald’s for an hour, trying to fight a growing sense of dread with milk shakes. Finally, unable to bear it any longer, she’d gotten back in her truck and retraced her path.

  That was when she’d come upon the emergency vehicles blocking the road and she’d known they were gone.

  She’d begun to shake. If only she hadn’t insisted that they drive separately in a fit of immature independence. If only she’d stuck closer to them instead of racing down the road. If only she’d done anything other than slurp down milk shakes for the last hour.

  She’d thrown up in the ditch and she hadn’t had a milk shake since.

  Then Ian’s arm was around her, gently pulling her against his side. “You’re not alone. I’m here, Lacy.”

  That made everything both better and worse. “You shouldn’t be hanging out with me,” she warned him even as she let her head fall against his shoulder. God, it felt good. “My streak of bad luck’s a mile wide right now. Everyone and everything I care for...” Her voice cracked so she stopped talking.

  He sighed, his big chest moving against hers. “I can take care of myself, Evans. You don’t have to push me away because you think it’s safer for me. And before you say it, I’m fully aware that, under normal circumstances, you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself.” He turned her so she was facing him and cupped her cheek in his palm. “You graduated—what, last May?”

  She shook her head no. “August.”

  “Okay, August.” He grinned widely. “I knew you were smart. So you’ve been doing pretty damn good on your own for eight months. If what I’m saying or doing somehow implies that you can’t function on your own, that’s my problem and I’m sorry for that. It wasn’t my intention.

  “But,” he went on, his voice gruff, “even you have to admit that things right now aren’t normal. You’re hurting in more ways than one, and I can’t bring myself to stand aside and let you flame out because you’re too proud to admit you need help.”

  “I don’t want to need help,” she whispered.

  That got a sly grin out of him. “Can’t say I blame you. But them’s the facts—you’ve got a busted rib and there’s something else going on here beyond a losing streak. So let me help you. Let me keep my promise to you that I won’t leave you alone.” Something in his eyes changed and he looked sadder. “I haven’t always been the kind of man people could rely on, and I know it. I’ve let people down and I’ve let myself down. But I’m trying to change that.”

  “This isn’t about sex, is it?” She hoped not, not when he was holding her tight and looking her in the eyes and making her feel as if maybe things were starting to go her way.

  His lips curved up into something that would have been half a grin if it hadn’t been so damned lost looking. “I learned the hard way that thinking with my dick gets me nothing but trouble.”

  There was something in the way he said it that spoke to much more than a messy breakup, and she remembered asking him to tell her something secret, something no one else knew about him—and he hadn’t.

  “What kind of trouble?” she asked, if only because talking about him meant they were no longer talking about her.

  “Not important right now,” he replied as easy as pie. “Right now, we have to get through a rodeo, and you have to decide if you want me to come home with you. And it isn’t about sex,” he added, giving her a stern look. “It’s about you trying to do the work of three people by yourself with a busted rib. If you keep reinjuring it, it won’t heal right and it’ll hurt for the rest of your life.”

  In the distance, the sound of tires on gravel began to echo around the arena. Rattler shook himself awake, and Lacy realized she hadn’t even peed this morning, much less brushed her teeth. And she still wasn’t wearing a bra.

  “You let me know,” Ian said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he let her go. “It’s your call, either way.”

  Great. Good to know. Except now she had a decision to make.

  Would she take him home? And if she did, would she welcome him to her bed?

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IAN GOT OUT of the truck and stretched. His butt was numb and his eyes were about to cross permanently. But they’d made it to the Straight Arrow before the sun set all the way.

  “So this is home?”

  She’d been painfully quiet on the drive up. True, she’d been asleep in the passenger seat for the first half. When she’d agreed that maybe it would be best if Ian helped her get the bulls home, she’d insisted he sleep the whole night. She was not about to entrust her life and her animals’ lives to a man who’d gotten a total of six hours of sleep over the two previous nights. She’d made that clear in no uncertain terms.

  So last night, he’d slept and she’d stayed awake. She’d stayed on her side of the truck and he’d stayed on his. He hadn’t anticipated missing the warmth of her body curled up against his, but he had. He’d asked if she was comfortable and she’d said she was fine so he’d let it go. She wasn’t sending out “touch me again” signals, so he’d gone to sleep.

  The night had been quiet enough. Then, around five thirty this morning, they’d loaded up the bulls and headed north.

  “Yup.” Lacy didn’t look at him when she said it.

  It didn’t take a genius IQ to figure out what this was about. Two nights ago, he’d wrapped his arm around her and she’d slept deeply—and then hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes the rest of the day. It’d only been at night, when they’d climbed back into the cab of her truck for the third night of watching that she’d even replied to his questions with more than single-syllable answers.

  This wasn’t about the nights. This was about the mornings. The one morning in particular.

  Thi
s was about sex.

  The hell of it was, he wasn’t sure which part of the sex was the problem. Was it that they’d fooled around at all? Or was it that they’d nearly been caught?

  “Nice place,” he remarked as she hauled herself out of the truck. She wobbled a bit and Ian fought the urge to rush around the truck and slide an arm around her waist. “Who else is here?”

  “Murph, the hired hand. He worked for my father and stayed on.” She cleared her throat and looked at the ground. “He owns a small piece of land between our ranch and Slim Smalls’s property. Otherwise, it’s just us.” She swallowed. “Me, I mean. Our property lines run from halfway up the side of the Laramie range to 17, the road we turned off of about twenty minutes ago.”

  That was more than she’d said to him in the past twelve hours. So Slim Smalls was her next-door neighbor? Maybe after they’d gotten the bulls unloaded and settled in, she’d let him in on what the feud was about. He wasn’t going to push her right now, though. He was many things, but he liked to think that stupid wasn’t one of them.

  “Pretty land,” he said again, keeping to the smallest of small talk.

  “Different than your ranch?”

  Ian turned to look at the low mountains of the Laramie range that were standing tall to the east of the Straight Arrow. “The rez is a lot flatter. Not as many trees. Let’s get the bulls unloaded. Is Murph around?”

  Even in the late-afternoon light, there was no missing the furious blush that lit up her face. He knew the answer before she said the words. “It’s just us.”

  He didn’t grin, even though she wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t know what was going to happen. He knew what he’d like to happen—but he wasn’t going to push it.

  “Then let’s get it done.”

  In short order, he had the truck and trailer backed up the way Lacy wanted it, and they had the bulls out. The animals were more than glad to be back on solid ground—Rattler nearly clipped Ian in the head with a surprise buck of his back legs.

  Then he and Lacy stood there for a moment, the sun setting in the west. It made the mountains behind them glow fire orange. “Beautiful,” he said.