by Alison Kent
“Watch,” she said, this time drawing only one finger upward, finding the nerves bundled at the base of the underside seam and stroking him there.
“You’re an evil woman, Faith Mitchell.”
And you’re the worst choice I could ever make, Casper Jayne.
She didn’t say it, of course. Another woman would have. Another woman wouldn’t have cared about hurting his feelings, or cutting him down when he was exposed and defenseless. Another woman would have fucked him and walked away.
Faith wanted to be that woman, but knew herself too well. She would fuck him, yes. And she would walk out of this room without a single backward glance. But she would care about his feelings because she didn’t have it in her to hurt him. Not like this. Not ever. Not knowing who he was, where he’d come from, what he’d been through.
She moved one hand to the vanity, one to her clit, and leaned forward while he fucked her, while he held her hips and drove into her, while he ground down against dirty words and desire and thrust like a jackhammer, nearly taking her off her feet.
She watched him, the strain in his neck, the rise in his blood pressure reddening his face, the flaring of his nostrils as he caught her gaze before he screwed his eyes shut to finish.
His look of desperation took her over. She fluttered and shook, coming quickly, surprised she’d made the climb with her nerves so ragged, but what she’d seen in his face had displaced her anxiety just long enough for her to let go. Now, however, as sanity returned, so did her urgent need to escape and she pushed back to get him to move.
Grunting, he pulled free, dripping cum down her thigh and onto the floor. Then he stepped from between her legs, giving her the space she’d come in here to find in the first place. She tossed her pantyhose into the trash, found her torn panties, swiped them over the mess Casper had left on the floor, and tossed them away, too.
Her skirt lay in a puddle beneath the vanity. She used her foot to slide it out, then stepped into it, shimmying her hips as she zipped it up and fastened the catch at the waist. Her bra was next, though it took her three tries to line up the hooks, and two tries to match the buttons of her blouse with their holes.
A quick look in the mirror had her smoothing her hair, though since Casper hadn’t even bothered to kiss her, her makeup had survived the assault intact.
It was when she reached for her jacket that she finally looked at him, shrugging into the garment as she did. His fly was buttoned, his belt buckled, his black T-shirt tucked in. The fabric stretched tight across his chest, and she thought of the hair there, how silky it was. Thought of his nipples, the muscles around them, how sensitive he was to her tongue, to her teeth.
He had his arms crossed, his shoulder propped against the tiled barrier separating the main part of the restroom from the door. His hat was pulled low, hiding his brow and all but the glittering heat in his eyes. But there was more there. An element she wasn’t sure of. It ticked along his stubbled jaw, beat beneath the skin of his neck.
He was brown from his time in the sun. Strong from his time on horseback. He was rangy, leanly muscled but bigger than most bull riders. She wasn’t sure that had served him well or worked against him when he’d climbed on the backs of the beasts.
He was also a survivor. The years of his childhood. The years in the arena. He was beat up and battered. Broken. And yet here he was, having come through it all and still standing. Hanging on. Working a ranch on the verge of collapse, owning a house worth more than he could afford. Giving her brother a reason to stay.
Pursuing her and making her feel rich.
“I have a proposition for you,” she said before she could think better of the offer she was about to make. It wasn’t like her thoughts hadn’t been headed in this direction for days. Much like a train wreck, she thought with no small amount of trepidation.
“Does it involve more of this?” he asked, nodding from his crotch to hers, which was now safely beneath her skirt and away from his too hungry gaze.
“No. This was a one-time thing.”
“So we’re back to you and your one-time things? Because the parking lot in Fever Tree didn’t count? The kitchen in the ranch house didn’t count? My bedroom didn’t—”
Her head was pounding again. “Stop it.”
“Hey, it’s your dime, but if it’s not about sex, I can’t imagine what kind of deal we might make.” He looked down at his feet, one muddy boot crossed over the other, then at hers and her black pumps that gave her hips just enough lift to meet his. “Mitchells and Jaynes just don’t have that much in common, remember?”
That cut her a lot more painfully than she would’ve imagined. “We don’t need to have anything in common for me to loan you the money for the improvements to your house.”
He waited for a long moment, not moving, barely breathing, doing nothing but staring at her, his eyes holding hers. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He gave nothing away. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I’ve got the money saved.”
“Really? Is that why I can’t get the money from the bank? They’re paying you enough to save that kind of fortune?”
She ignored his comment. “We’ll draft an agreement. You’ll pay me back with interest.”
“What’s the catch?” he repeated.
“Why do you think there’s a catch?”
“Isn’t there always?”
“Fine,” she said, smoothing down her skirt while she gathered her wits. “First of all, before you sell it or move back in, I get to hold my parents’ anniversary party there.”
“Ah,” he said, the pull of his lips more sneer than smile. “So you’re doing this for you, not for me.”
“And what if I am?” she asked, though the party had truly been an afterthought.
“You could’ve offered me the money the day I came to the bank.”
“It didn’t occur to me then.”
“It didn’t occur to you until you needed something from me.”
Argue. Backtalk. Complain. Was that all he could do? “I’m giving you what you want. Are you going to turn it down because there’s something I want attached?”
“How do you have that kind of money?”
“I told you—”
A knock on the door interrupted her. “Hey in there.”
“Sorry,” Faith called, still staring at Casper. “Be right out.”
“No,” he said.
“No? You don’t want the money?”
He tipped his hat with a harsh, “No, ma’am,” then gestured for her to head out before he did. She brushed by him, smelled him as she did, her bare pussy tingling again as she pulled open the door. She mumbled another, “Sorry,” to the woman waiting, cringed at the loud female gasp that came from behind her as Casper exited on her heels.
She didn’t look back, imagining the picture he made, big and bad and not giving a shit that he was coming out of a place he had no business being. Instead, she hurried to the bar, sensing without seeing that she did so alone. That Casper moved on, leaving the saloon. Leaving her to deal with whatever fallout resulted from their entirely inappropriate—oh my God, she was so, so stupid—encounter. Typical of him to walk away.
When she stopped to pick up her food order, Arwen was waiting, arms crossed on the bar top, a dark brow pointedly arched. “Here’s the thing, sweetie. I’m all for you and Casper hooking up, but I’d rather it not be in my restroom. We try hard to keep things here family-friendly, you know.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It should never have happened, and it won’t happen again.” Faith reached for the brown paper bag with the Hellcat Saloon clawing-cat logo the other woman pushed toward her, avoiding Arwen’s gaze as she did.
But Arwen held tight, not letting go until Faith glanced up. “Are you sure? Because the look on Casper’s face said otherwise.”
“That look was about something else.”
Arwen’s expression said she wasn’t buying it. “Fine, next time the two of you need t
ime alone for…something else, you can use my office. Just lock the door. And clean up when you’re done.”
“There isn’t going to be a next time. But please, please don’t tell Dax it happened this one.” It was a plea of too little too late, because who knew how many others had seen Casper follow her? “I don’t want Boone to find out.”
“Best way to make sure he doesn’t is to get a room in San Antonio. You’ve lived here all your life, Faith. You know what Crow Hill’s like.”
“I do. It’s just—” She stopped herself because she and Casper had made a deal not to tell anyone.
“It’s just what?”
A deal he’d just publicly rendered void. She took a deep breath, shaking her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “He’s so, so damaged. So broken. I didn’t know. I honestly didn’t know.”
Arwen’s gaze softened. “This is probably not the right time for me to say I told you so, is it?”
But she had, and Faith hadn’t listened, and now she was in over her head—and possibly in with her heart.
TWELVE
WHAT IN THE hell was wrong with him?
He’d been handed what he needed on a silver platter. No strings save for an insignificant one. No digging into his background—though she didn’t need to dig as he’d opened his big mouth and told her—or into his finances to prove his ability to repay what was going to be a hefty sum.
And because his pride and his ego were all wrapped up with his dick, he’d said no.
So what if it was Faith making the offer?
It was an offer. It was easy money. It was the cash he needed.
A way out of the hellhole he’d walked away from years ago that was now sitting square in his lap.
All of his personal capital—and what a crock of a concept, as if he’d ever owned anything more than his truck and his rodeo gear and clothes to see him from one Laundromat to the next—was tied up in the ranch.
The well scheduled to be drilled in the Braff pasture by Trinity Springs Oil was months away from producing, and years away from throwing significant change the ranch’s way. Besides, Faith had made it clear.
The bank wasn’t going to offer him a loan based on mineral rights, especially when he was one-third of a partnership owing the price of a few good souls. Jesus.
He’d come back to Crow Hill for the good part of his past, the only part he missed, the one part worth anything. He’d come back to Crow Hill to ranch and raise hell. He and his boys had been doing a lot of the former, very little of the latter.
But he couldn’t give his all to the ranch or to his boys if he was having to piecemeal the house back together, and pay for it one horse at a time. And he’d never get this thing with Clay fixed right if every time he turned around he was sucked into some new emergency repair.
He couldn’t raze it. He couldn’t sell it.
Taking Faith’s money solved everything. It really was as simple as that.
He stopped the truck in the middle of the county highway halfway between town and the ranch. Saying no was a fool thing to do. A blanket yes would be just as dumb. He’d take the money, but they’d make it legal, just like she’d said.
They’d draw up an agreement. He’d pay her back with interest. And he’d let her have her stupid party. He could live with all of that. But he wasn’t going to let her call the shots on what he did with the house. Or how he spent her cash.
That much, she had to know. Then there was the issue of Clay. An agreement would no doubt have Faith spending time at the house. Meaning the boy couldn’t be there. The dog either. Tonight, once he and Faith settled things, he’d move them both to the ranch.
He made a bat turn in the middle of the road and headed back to town, hunting down the apartment complex where she lived. It was small, no more than a dozen units, which should make it easy to figure out which door was hers. He circled the parking lot, found her car, and backed his truck into an empty slot at the far end of the row.
The first gated patio he came to was fussy with potted plants, sun catchers, and a couple of those Indian things webbed with feathers hanging from the edge of the terracotta roof. The table on the second held an overflowing ashtray next to a pile of Hot Wheels. Nice.
The third apartment appeared to be the most likely of the four on this side, since the last one had two racing bikes lashed to the wrought-iron posts, and so he backed up. The unlocked gate swung open, and he knocked before he could talk himself out if it.
Then he parked his hands at his hips and waited, figuring he’d interrupted her supper if she’d had any appetite left after all that had gone down between them.
She had a napkin in her hand when she opened the door. Her eyes widened, then narrowed curiously, and she cocked her head to the side to look over his shoulder.
He cut her off before she could say anything. “In the bathroom. At the saloon. You said first of all when I asked you what catch came with your money.”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Sorry. Hi. What’s the rest? After the party catch, what else?”
She leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, crossed her arms, ignored the fact that he had to bat away the bugs circling her porch light, and that he was sweating like a pig in the leftover heat of the day. “I’m not giving you the money if I don’t get a say in what you do with it.”
Goddammit. He cupped a hand over his chin, rubbed it as he thought, as he jumped from the frying pan into the fire, because what else was he going to do? “If you want a say, then instead of paying you interest, I give you fifty percent equity. My house. Your money. An equal partnership.”
“Why would you do that?” she asked, her brow knitting into a frown.
“Because I don’t want to get left high and dry if you decide to pull the plug. If you’re in this for half the house’s value, you’ll be less inclined to screw me over.”
She considered that a long moment, then said, “You know if you want to buy me out later, you’re going to end up paying me more than what I put in, even with interest added.”
Didn’t matter. He’d have as much trouble paying her ten bucks as a million. “I know. But at least the house will get done, and done right.”
She took her time thinking while he swatted at moths and mosquitoes, finally stepping out of the doorway and nodding him inside. He brushed by her, taking off his hat and scrubbing a hand over his buzzed hair. Goddamn, he needed a beer.
He was insane. That’s all there was to it. He should’ve turned and walked off the minute she’d demanded a say in more than how they fucked, but here he was and here she was and all he could say was, “Nice place.”
“It’s comfortable. I’ve got plenty of room. Very nice neighbors.”
He lifted his nose. “Smells like you’ve also got Arwen Poole’s ribs.”
“I do. Would you like some?”
“I’m fine.”
“Casper, it’s a half-rack with a loaded baked potato, a side of green beans, and a big square of chocolate cake for dessert. There’s more than enough for two.”
He’d seen her eat. He wouldn’t take that bet. “Okay then. Thanks.”
The look she gave him wasn’t quite a smile, but it was close enough that when she motioned him forward, he went with her to the kitchen instead of retreating out the front door. He stopped at the end of the table where her food was laid out next to a hardcover book.
“What’re you reading?” he asked as she gathered the foam takeout containers, carried them to the microwave, and popped them in while she pulled down dishes for him.
“Something I bought at Kendall’s the other day,” she said moments later, dividing the now warm food between them, then adding a bit more to the plate she’d got out for him.
He tossed his hat to the seat of an empty chair, settled his hands at his waist. “About earlier.”
“I’d rather not talk about earlier.”
“I was only going to say—”
“Don’t say anything—”
/>
“—I’m sorry.”
Her hands stilled, then she picked up the plates and returned to the table where he waited. “What are you sorry for?”
“For forcing you—”
“You didn’t force me.” She held up a finger, as if making sure that was clear. “You would’ve left the saloon in handcuffs if that had happened.”
And he’d have deserved nothing less. “You told me to leave you alone. I didn’t leave you alone.”
“That’s not the part I want you to be sorry for,” she said as she sat, closing the book and pushing it aside.
He took the chair across from hers. “I’m going to need some help here then.”
“Fine,” she said, scooting closer. “I want you to be sorry for not listening to me the first night we were together. When I told you I wasn’t going to do anything to risk Boone finding out about us.”
Ah. That. “No one saw us.”
“Someone saw me coming out of the ladies’ room and you following.”
“So I went into the ladies’ room by mistake. Shit happens,” he said, tearing a bone from the rack.
Before he could get it to his mouth, she reached for his wrist, holding it as well as his attention. “What if the woman worked at the high school? What if she mentioned to one of my parents that she saw me and you come out of the restroom together? What if one of my parents then asked Boone what he knew? See what I’m saying?” she asked, letting him go. “We’re not being careful. We have to be careful.”
“Fair enough,” he said, sinking his teeth into the meat and wondering if she’d meant to use the future tense. “Now tell me about the money.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” she said, her gaze falling to her plate, to her fork and green beans. “It’s my money. That’s all you need to know.”
Hmm. He was pretty sure there was something here she was holding back. “Doesn’t seem right for partners to keep secrets.”
“And yet, it happens,” she said, blowing him off. “I’m sure you’ve kept a few from Dax and Boone.”
He had. He was keeping one now. Keeping one from Faith, too. A secret named Clay. But he wasn’t letting up about the money. If she had it and Boone didn’t…“You a closet gambler or something?”
