by Vonnie Davis
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Praise for Vonnie Davis and…
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Back Where You Belong
by
Vonnie Davis
Honky Tonk Hearts
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Back Where You Belong
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Vonnie Davis
This ebook belongs to vzyl at 64 70 67 72 6f 75 70 forum. I hereby acknowledge that I have shared this book outside the forum without permission from the original poster if I earn profit or rewards for providing access to this ebook. I also accept responsibility for advertising and providing a hyperlink to this forum.
Cover Art by Tamra Westberry
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Yellow Rose Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-815-8
Honky Tonk Hearts Series
Published in the United States of America
Praise for Vonnie Davis and…
THOSE VIOLET EYES
“This is definitely one of my favorite books that I have read lately. It is short but packed with such a great story and characters…Vonnie Davis has a BIG fan in me after reading this story. I’m looking forward to reading more from her.”
~Marion, Belles Book Bag (5 Stars)
“…Davis sure knows how to write a novel with romance in all the right places, emotions of fear and doubt on both leading characters and have us readers laugh out loud at the funny parts…Davis has written a story that’s engaging, charming, romantic, sexy and all kinds of addictive!”
~For the Love of Reading (5 Stars)
~*~
STORM’S INTERLUDE
“This book has easily found its place on my keeper shelf and has become one of my personal favorites. If I could pull these characters from the pages and make them real I would.”
~Long and Short Reviews
“Readers, prepare yourselves for a breathtaking emotional journey. STORM’S INTERLUDE is simply a book you should not miss. The characters are well crafted and…Vonnie Davis’ writing is tender, witty and beautiful. I devoured each page, but didn’t want the story to end because it’s so powerful.”
~Siren Book Reviews
Dedication
Many thanks to romance author Rolynn Anderson,
who once wrote a blog entitled
“Love Darts and Escargot.”
No sooner had I read her blog than a visual
of a dart-throwing incident flashed across my mind
and I started laughing.
A writer’s muse often changes appearance
from project to project.
For this novella,
she was blonde and possessed a heart-stopping smile.
Rolynn, as a muse, you’re the best.
Chapter One
What the hell?
Tyler Desmond whirled away from the shot he was about to make at the pool table to grasp for whatever caused the sudden, stinging pain at the back of his neck. When his fingers closed around a dart, he yanked the offending object out, searching through the crowd in the Lonesome Steer Honky Tonk for the bastard who dared throw one at him.
His cousin Billy Wayne leaned in close as if to examine the dart’s point of entry. “Damn, that’s gotta hurt.”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed on the culprit. The object of his wrath stood about eight feet away, her face glowing red like embers in a branding fire and eyes mushrooming when his gaze zeroed in on hers.
He handed his cue stick to Billy Wayne and growled, “Not as much as one female’s about to. You can be damn sure of that.”
Three women, her friends no doubt, scurried back to their table, leaving her to face him alone. He slowly sauntered toward her, gathering his words as he approached. He’d cut many men to size with his acidic tongue. This woman would be no different.
Nervous hands clasped and unclasped and then fiddled with curly blonde hair. Then, as if to prepare herself for their inevitable confrontation, she squared her shoulders.
Good move, lady. You’re going to need a dose of courage for I plan on giving you a verbal thrashing you’ll never forget.
He extended his hand, the offending dart lying in his palm. “I believe you lost this…in my neck.”
“Crap, yes, I did.” She plucked it from his hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
He placed his hands on his hips and glared into her blue eyes. “Really? Then who the hell were you aiming for?”
The woman had the audacity to giggle. “I…I wasn’t aiming for anyone. You see, Carrie Jo”—she jerked her thumb toward the table of women behind her—“bumped against my elbow just as I was shooting. She was horsing around, calling me ‘Dart Demon.’”
His gaze ricocheted toward the gaggle of women, all nodding and smiling. Two did a finger wave. He scowled as a dull ache settled behind his eyeballs.
When Dart Demon leaned toward him, he got a whiff of her perfume and fought to ignore its beguiling, flowery scent.
“Just between us,” she began, her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, “she’s had too much to drink. Good thing I’m the designated driver tonight.” Her hand rose in a swearing gesture. “Honest. Nothing stronger than diet soda. See, Carrie Jo and her boyfriend are fighting again. They’re just not suited for each other.” Her blonde head shook once. “Ever notice how opposites attract? It’s the strangest thing, isn’t it?”
She pursed her lips, giving him no time to reply before she charged ahead like his prize Brahman bull. Evidently the woman didn’t need to breathe to talk.
“He likes rap music and she likes country. He likes to play video games while she runs marathons and works out. He’s a slob and she’s a neat freak. Yet, they can’t keep their hands off each other. The chemistry’s there, but not the compatibility. Know what I mean?”
Tyler inhaled and opened his mouth, ready to start his tirade. But before one angry word could roll off his tongue, she commenced her nonsensical rambling again.
“That’s not why we’re here though. We’re here to celebrate. I sold an article to a magazine. My first!”
A smile, brighter than a hill country sunrise, spread across her pretty face and niggled at one of his faint, long-forgotten memories.
“Isn’t that just too wild?” She pressed a hand to full breasts that strained a T-shirt imprinted with: I’m the strong, silent type.
Silent? Are you freakin’ kidding me?
“People keep telling me I have writing talent, but I’m not so sure. I guess you could say I have a lot of self-doubt.” Her blue-eyed gaze locked on his as she pursed those pink lips again. “I’m just not good with words, you know?”
Right, and I’m
not good with raising cattle. The dull ache in his head ratcheted up a notch.
“I’m prattling, aren’t I? I am.”
Those blonde curls bobbed again, and he wondered if they were as soft as they looked.
“I prattle when I get nervous. Normally I’m quiet.” Nervous hands rose and fell. “Most days you can’t get a word out of me.”
Just my damn lucky day then, isn’t it?
She waved her hand as if to dismiss her concerns. “Silly me, you don’t want to hear my life’s story. You’re here to chew me out for hitting you in the neck with the dart, aren’t you? And you have every right to. Is darts a sport? Or a pastime? I’m not athletic, you know. Never was, except for riding horses.” Her lips pursed while her forehead wrinkled. “No matter, I suppose. Does it hurt? Let me see.” She leaned up on her cowgirl boots. “Show me where it hit.”
Woman, for the love of heaven, shut up. He merely pointed. By now his head throbbed more than the wound.
Warm breath feathered across his neck. Fingertips ran over his skin, and he felt current zap clear to his calloused feet.
“Honestly, you can barely see it. Might want to rub a little antibiotic cream on it before you go to bed tonight, though. That’s what I do when I get a paper cut, or slice my finger cutting veggies. Should be okay in a day or two. A little iodine wouldn’t hurt, but then not everyone likes iodine.”
God, the woman’s like a verbal buzz saw. Pain pounded the backside of his eyeballs, and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.
“Let me buy you a beer. The least I can do is compensate you in some way. Like I said, it was an accident.” She pursed her full, pink lips again—a bad sign. “Funny thing about accidents…”
To shut her up and bring some relief to his headache, Tyler did the one thing he knew would stop her incessant chatter.
He kissed her.
Chapter Two
Tyler had lost all rational thought. Gone freaking insane. Why else would he have his fingers splayed in a mass of golden curls and his lips fused to this stranger’s? Had to be the headache.
She tried to talk against his lips, and he pressed harder against hers. Hell, even in a kiss the woman couldn’t keep quiet.
Fingers curled into his shirt, as if hanging on for dear life.
Good, he had her full attention. Lord knew she had his with the heat from her body arcing the small span between them like a powerful electrical current, singeing parts of him that hadn’t felt warm in years.
When he softened his lips on hers, she responded with a sensual, feminine moan that nearly dropped him to his knees. His physical response to her was totally unexpected.
Once he’d kissed her silent, he pulled back.
Blue eyes slid open. “Normally, I know a man’s name before I kiss him.”
God, I should have known she’d keep talking.
“Guess we should have introduced ourselves. I mean, kissing a complete stranger is kind of decadent isn’t it? I’ve never—”
“For ten blessed seconds would you just shut up?” A mental challenge took hold like when he settled his frame on a bull and the buzzer went off for the eight-second ride. He wanted to churn her insides the way she’d churned his. He wanted to jumble her thoughts, too. Lord knew he couldn’t think a rational thought right now.
His fingers rubbed against her scalp and those soft curls she had. Her flowery perfume filled his nostrils, and he inclined his head again, his gaze locked on hers. A memory niggled. Had he seen those cornflower eyes somewhere before? Surely not. If only her mouth put as much effort into a kiss as it did with her incessant chatter. His lips near hers again, he commanded, “Kiss me back this time, dammit.” The unexpected, pained quality of his voice fueled his frustration.
This time he gentled her into the kiss. Sweet sips to taste, and Lord she did taste good.
His lips slowly caressed hers, and when she opened her mouth on a sigh, his tongue swept in as if to lay claim. He banded his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, her soft curves easing the tension in his hardened muscles and increasing the tension in his groin. Lips to lips, heart to heart, thighs to thighs, they melted into each other.
Annoying background noises chipped away at his concentration. People cheered as the Rattlesnakes played their popular ballad, “Back Where You Belong.” The music, the din of the bar’s customers, the clinking of billiard balls faded, yet one scary thought rose like a phoenix…this is where I belong.
The crazed thought was like a bucket of cold water, and Tyler straightened, breaking the kiss. “I have got to be freaking insane,” he slowly bit out as he shook his head once.
The poor young lady he’d all but attacked had a dazed expression on her face, lips swollen from his frantic and thorough kissing. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never behaved like this.
When his gaze flicked in the direction of the pool tables, Billy Wayne was leaning on his cue, looking nearly as flummoxed as the woman, his mouth gaped open in that way his cousin had.
Lord, I have to get out of here.
Tyler tugged on the brim of his hat. “I’m sorry, miss. I meant no disrespect. Pardon my insanity.” He stepped around her and stalked in the direction of the exit.
Lacy LaRoche had survived many things in her twenty-four years, but nothing akin to what just happened. A black Stetson over dark collar-length hair, broad shoulders in a navy Western shirt and tight, worn Wranglers scuttled away from her in one tall, muscled package.
My God, what was that all about?
She pursed her lips and exhaled a long, shaky breath before collapsing onto her chair at her friends’ table. Not a minute too soon the way her legs trembled. Even so, she glanced over her shoulder for one last glimpse of the kissing bandit as he shoved his way through the door to the parking lot. When she looked back at her friends, her gaze collided with three pair of shocked eyes.
“Who was that?” Tessa leaned in and winked. “You certainly threw yourself at him. ’Course we could all see why.”
She never knew how to take Tessa. Megan and Carrie Jo were old friends from high school, but Tessa never lowered herself to associate with them during their teenage years. Now, six years later, the snobby young woman seemed somewhat bitter, almost as if she were mad at the whole world. Something about the way Tessa watched her made her uneasy, too.
Megan jumped onto the question train. “Did you know him when you tossed the dart into his neck?” She gave an evil smile. “Or were you merely trying to get the hunk’s attention. Did you girls see how he filled out those jeans?” Her gaze swept around the table before she lifted a longneck to take a drink. “Girlfriend, I’d be all over that.”
Lacy nearly had been, right here in the bar where everyone could see. Her hand trembled when she brought a can of soda to lips still tingling from his heated, almost brandishing hot kisses. Wow, did he know his way around a pair of lips. She ran fingertips over her upper lip. Even if his mustache did tickle.
Thanks to the raucous requests by patrons, the Rattlesnakes sang a second rendition of their sultry ballad about a lovesick man telling the woman in his arms she was back where she belonged.
Darned if she hadn’t felt as if she belonged in that stranger’s arms, too. She exhaled a long, slow breath. What on earth had come over her?
“Lacy?” Megan leaned across the table and raised her voice to be heard over the music. “Do you know him?”
“No. I mean something about him seemed familiar, but…no.” She shook her head and took another sip of her soda. What was it about the man? She didn’t remember him from college. Maybe she’d simply seen him in here before.
“By the way you kept talking to him, I thought he was a long lost friend.”
Tessa stood when a man asked her to dance. “Or an old lover,” she tossed over her shoulder.
Lacy was ready to change the subject to something other than the wayward dart and the resulting kiss. Why did he kiss me anyhow? Men, they
could be such a mystery.
She drank the rest of her soda and, hoping to get her mind on something else, leaned toward Megan. “Is your aunt still looking for a part-time job? I need someone to do billings and accounts receivable. It would only be a day a week to start, but with the four new clients I took on recently, I really need the help.”
“I don’t know. I’ll ask Aunt Becky and have her call you.”
“Sounds good.”
Lacy’s hand slowly uncurled and her gaze settled on the dart. Who knew a night out with the girls could end up like this, with whisker burn above her lip and her body humming a slow, sensual beat?
****
Tyler leaned his head against the headrest in his truck and willed his body to stop trembling with need. What had possessed him to kiss that babbling lunatic?
His fingers flexed as they had in her soft curls. Something tightened around a digit, and he looked down to find a strand of her hair binding one finger. He pulled it off and rolled it between his thumb and fingers, its silkiness fascinating him. He scooped his Stetson off the bench seat and, for some ungodly reason he didn’t want to examine, slipped the blonde curl under the plain hatband. Damn fool.
That’s how he’d acted in the Lonesome Steer—like some besotted fool. Somehow, in the blink of an eye—or the flap of her jaw—he’d gone from mad male to speechless simpleton. God, the woman was like a vocal hurricane. But, oh, that sweet mouth of hers. She surely could kiss. He hardened again.
In his younger, foolish years, he rarely gave the more voluptuous females much attention. Boy, had he been wrong. Damn if all her curves didn’t fit mighty fine against his body. The feel of her in his arms was something he’d not soon forget. His gaze swept to the large neon star on the roof of the honky tonk. A single flashing steer rode away from it.
