This was it—time for good-bye.
Tyler rested his hands on the steering wheel and said nothing, didn’t even look at her. Coldness flooding her body, Jess popped the door handle and started to push open the door.
A hand on her arm stopped her. Tyler was leaning to her now, his eyes glinting in the darkness.
“Stay put. I’m taking you all the way home.”
“I can’t leave my bike,” Jess said quickly.
“This truck is plenty big enough to carry it.” He glanced around at the dark parking lot, not moving. “I don’t like the thought of you riding home alone.”
“Like I do every night of my life?” Jess tried a laugh. “I’m fine.”
Tyler shook his head. “Not with your friend Elijah on the loose. I don’t want him taking his anger at me out on you.”
“Elijah is always like that,” Jess said, hoping she sounded offhand. “I’m used to him.”
Tyler’s eyes went tight, his expression hardening into determination. “That’s it. I’m taking you home.”
He slid out of the truck with agility before she could say anything else, moving to the back to let down the tailgate. Jess jumped out, intercepting Tyler before he reached the bike.
“You can’t be picking up a motorcycle after you’ve been hurt,” she said in a rush.
“Who say’s I’m picking it up?” Tyler’s words were easy. He removed the tarp over the bike, released the kickstand, and wheeled her beloved motorcycle to the back of the truck. Once there, he reached inside the bed and hit a few controls, and a lift lowered from the truck’s bed.
Jess caught the handlebars of the bike to help guide it—she needed to do something—but it was Tyler who competently pushed the motorcycle onto the narrow platform and then let the lift raise it into the truck.
“We have to haul equipment sometimes,” he explained as he settled the bike and retracted the lift. “Carter’s and Grant’s ideas can get complicated. Me, I just ride.”
The satisfaction with which he said the final words gave her another pang of envy. How wonderful it must be to work at something you loved, to make a living at it. Not simply taking whatever job was available to make ends meet and hope it lasted.
Tyler strapped down the bike and closed and locked the tailgate. He escorted Jess to the passenger door and helped her inside again, as though he wouldn’t dream of leaving her to climb in alone.
Charmer, she reminded herself.
Didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy being charmed though. Tyler’s hand on her elbow was nice; he boosted her in without Jess having to struggle at all.
Tyler returned to the driver’s seat once he’d shut her door, and put the truck in gear. “Okay,” he said without hurry. “Where to?”
Chapter Six
Tyler liked that Jess directed him well away from this crappy neighborhood and north into more agreeable parts of the city.
He didn’t much understand why people lived in Dallas, with its endless traffic, mess of freeways and toll roads, and building after building—offices, stores, apartment complexes, restaurants—row after row of them that ultimately all looked the same.
He did understand about having to live where the jobs were and blessed his fortune that he was born on a ranch and loved it. Tyler knew people from cities who were sure they’d die living in a small town—I mean, what do you do? He wondered if Jess would be like them, bored out of her mind and running the first chance she got.
And why did Tyler think he’d even have the opportunity to find out?
Jess lived in a house, it turned out, a small one-story home in a respectable-enough neighborhood, front yards enclosed by chain-link fences so kids could play without running into the street.
“This is me,” Jess said, pointing.
Tyler pulled to a halt in front of a mailbox that read 427. A light was on over the porch as well as in a front room. The house looked inviting—plants in the front yard, small strip of grass mowed—not unhappy, Tyler was pleased to see.
Jess was out of the truck before he could turn off the ignition. A woman used to finding her own way, not waiting for a man to do things for her like open the door of a vehicle and escort her down. Which meant there probably wasn’t a man in her life. No one in his way.
Before he could analyze why that situation made him triumphant, he went to the back and maneuvered her motorcycle to the ground. It was a nice one, a black Harley with a small seat, well cared for, decorated with swirls of silver paint that looked like Jess’s tattoos. The bike went well with her.
“Thanks,” Jess said as Tyler wheeled the motorcycle into her carport, parking it against the wall in front of a small, dark blue Toyota sedan. A large pickup sat in the driveway, probably belonging to the sitter—Mrs. Alvarez.
Jess cast a nervous glance at the front door, as though expecting Mrs. Alvarez to come storming out and demand to know what she was doing. “Good night,” she finished quickly.
Tyler caught her hand. The carport was deep in shadow, and Tyler turned Jess to face him.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“I should be asking you that.” Jess gave a nervous laugh that ended with a shiver.
“I mean at work. Is Elijah going to give you shit?”
Jessica shrugged. “Like I said, I’m used to him. Everyone is. He won’t be happy that Buddy called the cops, but he understands. He and his boys get out of hand sometimes.”
“Which makes me not want you going back there even more.” Tyler scowled.
Jess pulled away, her smile dying. “Oh, really? That’s nice for you—with your family and fancy truck and a show you can give away tickets to. Looking for a job is hard. Not everyone rushes to hire someone like me, so I make the best of what I have. Working somewhere else won’t keep Elijah away from me anyway. Brent’s wasn’t his local bar until I started working there. But I know how to handle him. I don’t need a knight in shining armor to lock me away in his castle for my own good. I don’t want to be locked away, all right? In any case, what does it matter to you? I’ll never see you again.”
Tyler stilled while she raged, her eyes flashing and her fists clenching. Now she was an avenging angel, protecting herself, her family, her home.
He let her anger wash over him, the frustration and pride of a woman defending her choices. Tyler waited until she ran down, not tiring of watching her beautiful face.
“You’ll see me tomorrow if you come to the show,” he reminded her.
Jess planted her hands on her hips. “Not the point.”
“I know.” Tyler fished his leather card case from his back pocket and extracted a pale rectangle from it. “This is me,” he said. “I mean my ranch. With the phone number. If you need me—anytime for anything—to clean out your carport or fix your plumbing or just to talk—you call that number. They’ll find me.”
Jess stared at the card, though it was too dark to read it. Tyler expected her to throw it away and storm into the house, but she closed her fingers around it. “You can fix plumbing?” she asked, her voice faint, as though her anger had drained her strength.
“No, but I know how to call someone about it. I just finished rebuilding my apartment—I know contractors all over central Texas.” He finished with a note of pride.
Jess let out a long breath. “You’re a shit.”
Tyler reached up to tip his non-existent hat. “So they tell me—”
His words were cut off by her kiss. Jess’s body landed against his, her mouth crushing his in an abrupt but heartfelt and vastly sexy kiss.
Tyler gathered her closer, gripping her hips as she dug her fingers into his shirt.
The kiss went on, Tyler tasting the passion they’d shared, the goodness of her. The warm breeze of a Texas summer night wafted around them, bringing with it the scent of dust, wilted grass, and old-growth trees.
He would have wrapped his arms around her, drawing the kiss out even more, but the sound of the front door openi
ng made Jessica jerk back, bumping his lips as she broke the kiss. She stared at Tyler in wide-eyed panic a moment before pushing away from him.
“Good night,” she gabbled and rushed from the carport along the sidewalk to the front door.
Tyler watched her long legs in the brief shorts, her hips moving as she ran in a somewhat shuffling gait. An indomitable woman, doing what it took to survive and protect her son. Another emotion added itself to Tyler’s feelings for her—admiration.
“Good night,” he said softly as she disappeared into the house and slammed the door.
Trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his heart, Tyler kissed his fingers to the front window then made himself walk back to his truck, climb in, and drive away. His thoughts were troubled, his body hating him as he maneuvered through the uncaring traffic to the empty hotel room at the road’s end.
* * *
Mrs. Alvarez picked up the remote and switched off the television as Jess entered behind her. Jess leaned on the door she’d banged closed to get her balance, not to mention catch her breath.
Mrs. Alvarez turned around to look at her. She was a tall woman, pleasantly ample. Large and strong, Mrs. Alvarez had the best posture Jess had ever seen.
“Who was that man?” Mrs. Alvarez asked in her quiet voice. She had the uncanny knack of knowing everything that went on in Jessica’s life. “Why did he have to drive you home?”
“Fight at the bar.” Jess pushed from the door and limped into the kitchen. She was hungry, and Mrs. Alvarez usually left something for her to warm up.
“Chilaquiles in the fridge,” Mrs. Alvarez said as she followed Jess. “Warm them up for fifteen minutes in the oven at three hundred and fifty. Don’t use the microwave—they’ll dry out. Elijah again?”
“Who else?”
“That man should be in prison,” Mrs. Alvarez said with certitude. She was right, but Elijah was careful, keeping a good lawyer on retainer and making sure evidence of his crimes didn’t lead back to him. “What did he do tonight?”
“Picked on a cowboy,” Jess said. “Except this cowboy is a stuntman. He held out for a long time against them and recovered fast.”
Jess busied herself taking the casserole of layered chicken, tortilla strips, cheese, and sauce out of the refrigerator and putting it in the cold oven, cranking it to three-fifty. She never bothered with preheating.
Hoping Mrs. Alvarez would drop the subject, Jess set the timer and left the kitchen for the short hall and Dominic’s room at the end. The house she rented had three bedrooms—two good-sized ones and one little bigger than a walk-in closet, which was what it had become.
She didn’t want to wake Dominic, but she was eager to see him, to ensure he was all right. She trusted Mrs. Alvarez, but that wasn’t the same as seeing her son breathing, well, and happy.
She opened the door quietly, her entire body going slack with relief to behold the lump under the blankets, the dark head on the pillow.
Jess crept to the bed, intending to kiss Dominic and retreat, but he rolled over and looked at her, wide awake.
“What stuntman?” he demanded. “Did you meet him?”
Of course, Dominic would have heard every word and picked up on the one thing that interested him.
Mrs. Alvarez arrived at the doorway. “Is that who drove you home?”
“What is this, an interrogation?” Jess was exhausted, even after her nap in Tyler’s bed. How wonderful that deep sleep in his arms had been!
Both Dominic and Mrs. Alvarez gazed at her expectantly, and Jess lifted her hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. His name is Tyler Campbell. He’s a cowboy with a stunt show going on at the Mesquite rodeo grounds. He was stupid enough to go into Elijah’s bar, he drove me home because I helped him, and he gave me tickets to his show tomorrow.”
She pulled the tickets from her back pocket, pleased they were still there—they hadn’t gotten lost when she and Tyler had flung off their clothes.
Jess held up the tickets, the name of the Mesquite fairgrounds stamped on them, and realized they were expensive seats, entitling her to sit arena-side. She also realized Tyler had given her three.
Mrs. Alvarez plucked one from Jess’s hand. “I’ll take that. I’d love to see his show.”
She gave Jess a sharp look as Dominic reached for the remaining tickets, Mrs. Alvarez too perceptive for Jess’s comfort.
She was also protective, wanting to keep Jess safe from men like Dominic’s father. She didn’t trust Jess’s judgment, which, Jess had to admit, hadn’t always been the best. But that was the past, Cade was out of her life, and Jess didn’t need anyone else cluttering it up.
She repeated that to herself as the oven timer went off. Mrs. Alvarez took the tickets back from Dominic, and Jess kissed him good night before she scuttled to the kitchen to get her dinner.
For all her nosiness, Mrs. Alvarez was a damned good cook, Jess thought as she bit into the cheesy and spicy chicken mixture. Fine. They’d all go to the show tomorrow. No getting out of it now.
Jess only hoped she wouldn’t do anything that betrayed how special Tyler had made her feel, and how she would be hugging that to herself for the rest of her life.
* * *
She wasn’t going to show up. Tyler glanced at the box for the hundredth time, seeing the three seats for which he’d given Jess the tickets empty. Three seats so she could bring her kid and any significant other she had. He’d handed them to her in the bar before he’d decided he wanted Jess all to himself.
He’d already deduced she had no one else in her life, but he hadn’t come straight out and asked. Tyler wasn’t sure how he’d react if she entered holding her son’s hand on one side, some asshole’s on the other. She’d glance at Tyler, knowing they’d spent a secret night of passion, maybe even send him a covert smile. But that night would be all they’d ever have, and Tyler would burn with jealousy.
Moot point, he told himself in irritation. She wasn’t coming.
The Mesquite rodeo arena was indoors, so the bright sunshine and Texas heat wasn’t as big a factor while they rode. The rodeo had been running for several days—the Campbells’ stunt show today was a warm-up before the finals of the roping and bull riding events. Right now, a drill team of horseback riders with flags were showing off for the crowd, while Tyler waited in a side ring for their show to start.
The tickets Tyler had given Jess covered the whole day, with the schedule listed on the back. Tyler knew Jess hadn’t come earlier though, because he’d kept his eye on the box all day long, and hadn’t seen her.
The horses, far calmer than he, waited in the corral. Buster and Bobby, a bay and a brown with white socks, stood together in the center of the ring, reins loose on their saddles. Occasionally they’d glance around, or touch noses, or let out a snort, not worried about a thing. Buster and Bobby were pros.
“If your head’s not in the game, don’t go into the ring.” Adam’s voice rumbled behind him. Tyler turned to find his oldest brother a few feet away, giving him a hard look.
He understood what Adam meant. Though Tyler and his brothers trained until they could ride this show in their collective sleep, the unexpected could always happen. A rider not paying attention was a hazard not only to himself but his fellow riders and the horses.
Adam bore scars on his face and down his neck from a bad accident involving a movie stunt gone wrong, which had nearly ended his career. Adam knew better than most how one simple screw-up could be disastrous.
“I’m fine,” Tyler said.
Adam looked him up and down, knowing Tyler was full of shit.
Adam, Grant, and Carter had been shut in their rooms by the time Tyler had returned to the hotel last night. Surprisingly, none of them had banged on his door to cross-examine him, and none had said anything about Jess this morning. Grant had given Tyler a knowing look when Tyler met them at the arena after breakfast, but so far, they hadn’t said a word.
They weren’t being nice, Tyler knew, or discreet, or resp
ectful. They were saving up for later.
“Seriously, Tyler. Head in the show, or don’t ride,” Adam repeated. “We can do this with just Carter.”
They always had a backup plan in case one of them got hurt or sick at the last minute. The show must go on.
Tyler took another look at the ringside box near the middle of the arena. The seats remained empty and forlorn.
Jess wasn’t coming. Tyler would not see her again, and he’d go on living as he had before. Nothing had changed.
Tyler squared his shoulders, gave Adam a nod to indicate he was all right. Adam shot him a skeptical look but finally departed for his designated gate.
The drill team went through their last maneuvers to much applause, and the ring cleared, a tractor whizzing through to rake over the churned-up dirt. Then the announcer excitedly proclaimed that the best Wild West show in Texas was about to begin.
No one came to claim the seats in the box. Tyler checked his equipment one more time—making sure Buster hadn’t let out his held breath to loosen the cinch—and prepared for his entrance. He mounted Buster and walked him out of the corral, leading Bobby, wondering why his mouth was as dry as the dust that coated the arena floor.
* * *
Jess finally found the box in front—actually, Dominic found it by bringing up a schematic of the arena complex on Jess’s phone. The stunt show had already begun by the time they entered—she’d heard the announcer’s voice soar, the thump of music in speakers, the roar of the crowd.
It had taken them forever to get going this morning—Mrs. Alvarez had had a flat on her way over to the house and had to wait for a friend to come and help her fix it. She’d never call for a tow truck or a road service to help her. That wasn’t her way. And anyway, that likely would have taken longer. Jess changed her mind six times about what to wear, finally settling on simple jeans and a short-sleeved top. She also dragged her feet because she wasn’t sure she should go. Only Dominic’s insistence got her out of the house at all.
Tyler (Riding Hard Book 4) Page 6
