A Perfect Dilemma

by Zoe Dawson

  And a sick realization overwhelmed me.

  I wanted something special, something meaningful with Braxton. Like what Aubree had with Booker and Verity had with Boone. I wanted Braxton Outlaw to be mine.

  What a fool I was.

  The sun hot on my back, bloody and burning with scrapes and humiliation, I staggered to my feet and ran full-out.

  Chapter Four

  Braxton

  “Fuck!” I yelled and slugged the bag. My gut was tied in knots by the look on her face. Didn’t she get it? We would be a disaster.

  I stood there trying to overcome my own damn needs. If I kissed her like I wanted to…the thought scared me shitless.

  But the realization that I’d hurt her tore at me. I could handle an angry spitfire. I could walk away or drive her away from me when she was angry, but the look on her face…it shredded me.

  I couldn’t let her leave with that look on her face.

  I sprinted to my bedroom and shucked my shorts and jock, and pulled on my jeans commando, grabbing a black tank as I ran past the dresser. At the open door I stomped my bare feet into my motorcycle boots.

  I looked off down the road and saw her running fast, glorious hair streaming out like ribbons of sun-warmed honey brown. I jumped off the stairs, landing right next to a streak of blood on the dirt in front of the house. Kee-rist! I felt sick…

  I sprinted for the garage, clicking the opener as I ran. I ducked, not waiting for the door to fully open. Mounting my Harley, I fired it up, the machine thundering. Backing quickly out, I revved the throttle and spun the back wheel in an arc. Opening her up, shooting dirt and gravel, I took off.

  I caught up to River Pearl in moments. She had to have heard my big, roaring Harley. But she didn’t stop. I was ashamed about how I had treated her. She was the only woman I ever treated that way.

  I had nothing but respect for her, and my ugly comments burned like acid in my brain. I’d needed to get her to leave immediately because my hard-on was overpowering my brain, and I was on the verge of hauling her up against the wall and slaking my hunger for her, right then and there. Sinking into her until I couldn’t find my way back.

  I got close enough to set the kickstand on the rumbling bike and take off after her. Her frantic breaths scoured me, but I increased my speed, eating up the ground.

  “River! Stop!”

  She ignored me and kept running full-out, her arms pumping with no hesitation at all.

  I grabbed her arm and she swung a roundhouse punch at me, which I blocked, then pinned her arms against her sides.

  Her chest heaving, her face dirty and bloody, she shrieked, “Let me go.”

  Then I saw the tear tracks and felt like complete slime.

  “I’m sorry for what I said. Fuck, I’m sorry.” I dragged her against me, both of us breathing hard from exertion.

  She struggled, so I let her go, and she sprang back from me.

  “You are such an asshole!”

  “I know. I tried to tell you.”

  She didn’t do anything but stand there looking forlorn.

  Her pride, her confidence, her bravado laid low…by me. I hated myself. I took a step forward and pulled her into my arms and held her against me, carefully this time.

  “Yeah, by being a colossal jerk!” she muttered while she burrowed her face into my neck.

  “I’m sorry, darlin’”

  “You should be.”

  I started walking her toward my bike, but she resisted. I got on and motioned for her to get on behind me. To my relief, she did. “Wrap your arms around my waist,” I said, bracing for the feel of her.

  She did, and although it was snug, I said. “Tighter.”

  She leaned against my back and held me tighter. I sighed. I was such a complete idiot. I should have let her go. She likely would never have come back and I would finally have been free.

  But the thought hurt too much. I’d never be able to do it and make it stick. Which meant I was only postponing the inevitable. But even in this I was a stubborn sumbitch.

  It was a short ride back to my house. I guided her up the stairs and straight back to the bathroom. Tipping up her chin, I surveyed the damage. Wetting a washcloth, I dabbed away the evidence of those tears, not mentioning them even as they sliced my heart to ribbons again. “You bloodied your nose.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Obvious. I fell. I’m going to blame you,” she mumbled.

  I dabbed at her nose and tilted her head back, thinking how utterly beautiful she was. “You going to sue me?”

  She blinked and looked at me. She should be afraid. I was nothing but trouble, and it always seemed to find us Outlaws. Plus, I was too dumb to be afraid of anything. Me and my brothers had to fight every day of our lives during high school, if not physically, then emotionally. Intimidation had become a way of life. It was the only way to avoid becoming a victim.

  She tried to bring her head forward, but I held it in place. “We need to stop the nose bleed.” I pressed the washcloth against her nose. “Hold this still, I’m going to get some ice.”

  “All right,” she said in a muffled voice.

  I’d much rather have a pissed River in my house than the teasing, irresistible darlin’ who’d almost goaded me into doing something we’d both regret. My hands clenched, and reminded me I was still wearing the hand wrap. I walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer, took out an ice cube, paused, and got another one, rubbing the cold against the back of my neck. Geezus, I was burning up.

  Back in the bathroom, I removed the washcloth and set the ice cube against the base of her cute nose.

  She shivered as I rubbed the ice across her upper lip. “If it’s broken, I’m siccing my momma on you, Braxton. Fair warning.” she said with narrowed eyes.

  I got closer, which turned out to be a very bad idea. It only intensified the sweet, flowery scent of her.

  “Yeah? If she has a strong right hook like you, it might get dicey, but I think I can take your momma.”

  Which made her sputter, but she caught herself. “Don’t make me laugh, you ass. I’m still mad at you. She’ll skin us both and remind me incessantly that I make my living with my face.”

  “I’m sure looking like you went a few rounds with Joe Louis wouldn’t transfer well into fashion.”

  “Joe Louis?”

  “The Brown Bomber. One of the greatest heavyweight boxers of all time. I’ll tell you about him sometime.”

  I pinched her nose and wiggled it.

  “Ouch!” she yelled and slapped at my hand.

  “It’s not broken,” I said.

  She punched me in the arm and cried, “That hurt!”

  “You cracked it good, but it’s only bruised and bloody. I’d say ground 1, River Pearl 0.”

  She covered her nose and leaned away from me. “Ha, ha, Brax,” she sniped, her eyes shooting daggers, her voice muffled.

  “Keep your head back, killer.”

  “Hurts keeping it tilted.”

  “Has it stopped bleeding?”

  She pulled her hand away. “No blood. Looks like it.”

  “Good.”

  Quiet settled over us and I straightened.

  She looked up at me. “You going to help me out, Braxton?”

  “With Duel?” Still stunned by her request. What could have possessed her to decide it was a good topic for Founder’s Day? Founder’s Day was supposed to be all about her lauded family, not the curse of mine. I squatted down so she didn’t have to tilt her tired neck to look at me. “Only if you tell me why, and be honest about it.”

  She sighed and looked away, then huffed again. “I learned they were actually friends, and I want to explore their friendship. I want to find out what made them both tick. Duel was a living, breathing man, and no one knows a darn thing about him except he was hanged for stealing a payroll of gold and murdering Confederate soldiers. There’s got to be more to him.”

  “And you think anyone in this town will care?”

  �
�Maybe not. But I’m not writing this speech for them. I’m writing it because I want to. Because I think it’s the right thing to do, and I’m sick of my family lording it over everyone. Is that enough for you, Braxton?”

  This had disaster written all over it. I was a complete fool to even think about helping her. Not because of the subject matter, but because we’d be united in figuring it out. We’d be together more than I probably could handle and still maintain my distance.

  I’d wanted River Pearl for longer than Booker had wanted his Aubree. And she was his. But River was not mine and never would be. My family’s reputation colored everything I did, but especially this. Any woman even remotely connected to an Outlaw found out what it was like to be an Outlaw. I’d had to watch countless time while my ma was verbally abused, pushed around, cursed. She didn’t deserve it, and neither did River. My brothers obviously didn’t feel the same way I did about subjecting the women they loved to the curse we carried with us. But I couldn’t get past it.

  “Brax, please,” she said softly.

  And again I was the man who couldn’t say no. Not to her. Not this time.

  “All right.” When she smiled my heart bumped up against my chest. Her smile reached all the way to those amazing eyes. “There’s a lot of shit in my ma’s attic. There’s stuff in mine, too. I can’t guarantee you’ll find anything useful, but my ma kept everything.” I said making sure my face was expressionless, my tone of voice flat and detached.

  “Got it. But we also might find something helpful. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  It wasn’t all she was asking for, and I was sure it wasn’t innocent. In spite of her slightly swollen nose, the shadow of a bruise beginning to show, dirt and blood still on her face, I still wanted to lean in and press my mouth against hers. I couldn’t believe I had this much willpower. My body shook with the compulsion, but I remained where I was.

  Perfect.

  Getting another hard-on wasn’t helping.

  My eyes were irresistibly drawn again to her mouth, her gently parted lips, and I let out a short breath. Geezus. All I had to do was look at her mouth to remember how she’d tasted. What I’d been struggling with every night since then, the memory of her and how those lips had pressed to mine, the heady passion sizzling from her to me, buckled my knees and crushed my heart.

  Time to insert some distance. “Looks like your column is getting pretty full.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I saved your shapely butt twice today, sugar pie.”

  “Oh, right, I do owe you.”

  “You do. Wait until you see my bill.”

  She raised a brow, giving me sass with those cool river-rock eyes. Even with me saturated in the deepness of them, I could feel the zap of tension strung between us. Always this damned, all-consuming attraction that was more…more than sexual…more than physical…just fucking more.

  It’s why I’d never touched her voluntarily. It was far too dangerous.

  I rose and stepped away from her. “Can you give me, like, fifteen minutes to shower and change? Then I’ve got to make a quick stop at Outlaws to make sure dinner is on track and everything is covered. I’ve got a new bartender.”

  “Yes, I saw him at the soireé. I think he melted the panties off every woman there.”

  A stab of jealousy pierced me.

  “Right, the tattoos and piercing? That’s what you…um…they find attractive?”

  Her eyes flashed to me. “Who, me? Are you asking me what I find attractive in a man?”

  “Ah…”

  “Don’t strain yourself. No, it’s not what I find attractive.” Her eyes roved over my face.

  “I’ve seen the men you hang with, River. Tamed, pampered pussycats.”

  She shot to her feet and I stepped back. “Half the fun is taming them, Braxton.”

  I gritted my teeth at her taunt. I had it coming, so I took it like a man. Didn’t mean I had to like it.

  I pulled my T-shirt over my head and watched her face go slack and her eyes glaze. “I need to get going. We can exchange conquest stories later,” I snapped, jealousy heating me up like one of Outlaws’ ovens.

  She stood there unmoving.

  “River…”

  There was a long pause, during which I could tell she was deciding how far she could push me. Fortunately, she chose the not-very-far route, at least for now.

  “Right, I’m going,” she said as she backed up and started to twist away from me, headed right for the doorjamb. If she hit her nose, it would start bleeding again, and we’d have to repeat the whole sequence.

  I lunged and caught her as she was turning away from me. The move startled her and her foot slipped on the carpet, going right between my legs.

  Her thigh slammed against my semi-hard dick and I was pretty sure she hit my nads, too. For a second I thought, okay, maybe it wasn’t that hard, then agony jolted through me and I bent over. My knees buckled. I went down, cupping my junk, and curled up into the fetal position. Somehow my breath got stuck in my chest and I wheezed like I couldn’t get any air.

  “Fuck!” exploded out of me while I saw stars. Then words were beyond me, and I’m pretty sure I whimpered and groaned and maybe had enough agonized breath to swear again.

  She was talking to me, but I heard nothing but a buzz.

  The pain dulled, settling into jittery, nervy vibrations, like hitting my funny bone. It radiated up from my balls and dick into my hips and lower torso, triggering nausea and more shortness of breath. She’d clocked me good. I don’t know how long I stayed curled up, but it had to have been at least five minutes. Felt like an eternity.

  She shifted her position near me, moved closer.

  Finally, her words registered. “Braxton, I’m so, so sorry. Can you move?”

  “In about a century, maybe.”

  I opened my eyes and found her looming over me, her gaze riveted to my…crotch. Great. Just great.

  “Can you move?” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “No?” I said.

  She looked outraged and guilty as hell. “No. I would never hurt you that way.”

  I tried moving my hips a little and let out a hard breath. “Sugar pie. I was yanking your chain. It was an accident.”

  After a blow to the cock and balls, a man had to curl up and perform an internal diagnostics check.

  Legs? Yup, they've got feeling.

  Arms? Yup. They're there, too.

  Torso, check in! Yup, a little shaky, some nausea, but all systems go.

  Um...junk? We're alive, huckleberry. Not happy, but alive. Keep that crazy woman away from us.

  I hated to break it to them, but if I could shuck my self-protective armor, give up my forced disinterest in River, moving away from her certainly wouldn’t be my goal.

  After finishing my diagnostic check, I decided I could attempt to move.

  My heart was racing, and that pissed me off. I’d had a mostly sleepless night, had been working non-stop, sapping the rest of my energy as I’d tried to hammer away my anger into a punching bag, had to chase River Pearl down the road in the steaming heat of a Louisiana summer, and now had received a swift and well-aimed kick in the groin.

  I’d had a helluva day and it wasn’t over. My reserves were low, and I needed to take a damn shower, get something in my stomach—okay, once the urge to heave my guts was gone—and get her what she needed so she would leave me alone.

  “I am so, so sorry.”

  She meant it, too. It was in her voice, in her cool, gray eyes that had a way of heating me up anyway. She reached out and I wanted to recoil, but I couldn’t move away. She touched me, her hand slipping around my side to help me stand, and suddenly the crack to my “bag of tricks” wasn’t what was making me weak in the knees. Her hands left me undone.

  Her hair slid forward, the mass of it landing on my shoulder and settling against my neck and chest. My needs jumped their tight leash—fuck, I wanted her willing and warm and s
upple, wrapping her legs around me. It’s what I’d wanted…all day.

  Okay, for weeks.

  For a lifetime.

  Geezus, I had such a one-track mind.

  But damn it all to the devil.

  She leaned farther into me, and a hitch in my breathing shook my chest. This was great. This was amazing—the lovely curve of her thigh inches from my face, the hem of her short dress barely keeping her modest. I knew if I leaned forward even the slightest bit I could probably see her underwear. I knew I shouldn’t. But not because, fuck it, I was an Outlaw and we did things we weren’t supposed to do all the time. Looking away was about survival. Usually drowning guys don’t dive back down. They usually try to reach the surface for self-preservation.

  She was wearing a clingy-looking navy blue tank top sundress with lace at the hem and the creamy skin of her thighs peeking through. I knew being exposed to me was the last thing on her mind right now. Her concern was obvious, even if sneaking a peek had become the first thing on mine.

  I moved forward the slightest bit. Slipping back under the surface.

  Hot fucking pink lace.

  Geezus.

  Hot pink lace, sweet ass, so many curves. She was a symphony of curves. The only triangle on her was the one I wanted to slide my hand over at the juncture of her thighs and delve into, get lost in. Finally get lost in her.

  She was out to slay me, my temptation, my trial, my bane. All five feet eleven inches of gorgeous Amazon. Untouchable, out of my league, high-class, golden girl bombshell.

  When she hauled up, I didn’t even try to get my legs under me, even though they had assured me I could now attempt, with some shakiness, to stand. I didn’t bother, because River Pearl was rubbing her body all over mine.

  I didn’t know how much willpower I had left.

  I had a feeling this crazy scheme of hers to find out more about Duel freaking Outlaw meant I was going to find out. I was going to be tested to the limit.

  Goddamn. When I didn’t move, she thought I needed more help. More help. Goddamn. What I needed was a kick in the head or ass to push her away from me so I could get up on my own two stupid feet.