“I think he got scared when he thought he was getting old. He never much bothered with any of us until now.”
“Us?”
“Apparently I have two half-sisters. Seems my father had difficulty keeping his trousers zipped up.”
“Who told you?”
“Mr. Rankin.”
Well, damn, Gabe should know. “They’re coming here too?” What else did old Pete have to hand out? Surely not the ranch?
“One is, in a couple of weeks. She’s a photographer and busy on a job right now. Don’t know about the other one. Mr. Rankin hadn’t heard back from her. Or so he said.”
Talk about a petticoat invasion. Better concentrate on his particular petticoat. “Interesting, but back to the Rooster—you really mean that?”
“Yes. It seems the only decent thing to do. Not sure how we can set it up, but we ought to be able to work out something.”
So he hoped. “We will.” He held out his hand. “Shake on it?”
She looked up at him, cocking her head to one side. “We haven’t actually agreed on anything.”
“We agreed to agree. Isn’t that something?”
Juliet nodded, smiled, and took his hand.
He’d never got a hard-on from a handshake before, but her smooth, soft skin sent everything into overdrive. Her thumb rested over his and he tightened his hold, wanting to keep her hand, and just about the rest of her. He was reacting like a randy youth and didn’t give a rat’s ass, and when she leaned forward and he caught a glimpse of the swell of her breasts in the vee of her T-shirt, he closed his hand over hers and held on.
She didn’t object. Her clasp was strong and steady—until she pulled her hand back. “We’ll work it out,” she promised. It took him a full thirty seconds to realize she was referring to ownership of the Rooster.
“How about we take a stroll around the big city of Pebble Creek after dinner?” Rod asked.
Six
Juliet looked up from reading the check. As she’d requested, she got the tab for the wine. “Why not? Let’s have a wander around the big city. Think it’s safe?”
“Honey, I think the worst dangers round here are the mosquitoes.”
A few mosquitoes would have added to the excitement but the quiet suited Rod. He parked by the Ben Franklin’s on the corner of Main and Austin and together they walked across the square and past the courthouse. “The river’s to the left,” he said. “The riverfront used to be the local trading center once upon a time. Now it’s full of yuppie souvenir stores and overpriced coffee shops.”
“Why don’t we have a look? Might find ideas for the other half of the Rooster.”
Rod could think of better ways to spend a nice spring evening, but since she’d just taken his hand and seemed quite content to keep hold of it…“Okay.”
It was farther than he expected. He’d always driven it the few times he’d come down to this part of the town. Darker too. In the distance he saw the lights along the river and debated going back and getting the truck. He was getting a bad feeling about this.
Too late.
They came out of the shadows. Two skinny youths, not much out of their teens, in tattered jeans and wife-beater shirts, with malevolence in their eyes.
“Get behind me, Juliet!” She moved out of his line of vision. Thank God she listened. He didn’t dare look back to check. His eyes were on the two youths.
“Yo, man!” the taller one said. “You lost?”
“Yeah!” added the other, pulling a knife from behind his back. “We can help ya! What you got to give us for showing you the way home?” If he only had the gun he’d left in his dresser drawer, but maybe all they wanted was his money. “Let’s have your wallet, man!”
“Sure.”
“Hand it over then!”
“Okay.” Rod reached for his inside pocket.
Number one sounded nervous. “Move it!”
A bloodcurdling yell broke the night quiet. The knife flew in an arc. Juliet’s leg and then her body leaped between Rod and the punk and landed facing Rod, midway between the two thugs.
“Bitch!” the second one muttered and moved in. She was faster. A sideways jump. A crack of bone, and as he fell, Juliet turned, swift as fire, and her foot caught the other between the legs, lifting him off his feet before he too fell to the pavement with a thud.
In less time than it took Rod to realize what had happened, one punk lay clutching his upper leg, screaming obscenities that made his earlier comment sound downright friendly. The other appeared to have lost his vocabulary entirely and groaned like a dying elephant.
Juliet stood, knees bent, as if ready to spring, arms out and her eyes scanning the street. Seeming satisfied she’d felled all comers, she relaxed, then rushed into Rod’s arms. “Are you all right?” she asked, breathing hard and looking up at him with worried eyes.
“I’m supposed to do the rescuing!”
She laughed. “They were watching you. They’d discounted me as a girl. Their mistake.”
She was right, there. “You okay?”
“I think I might have chipped a fingernail….”
“Let me kiss it better.” He took her hand in his and kissed the soft pad on the finger she held out. And wanted the rest of her.
She gave a little sigh. “Shouldn’t we call the police?”
She had a point. He pulled out his cell phone and punched in 911. Juliet noticed the nonmaimed mugger was trying to get up, so she sat on his back. The ensuing vocabulary was colorful, if monotonous, and got worse once the cops arrived.
Three carloads of them, followed by the rescue squad. Obviously a quiet night in Pebble Creek. Worry over, Rod found himself enjoying the next little while. Juliet had been dead right: people still discounted “girls”—particularly ones with English accents and red hair. Even the female police officer stared and drooped her jaw when she realized it was Juliet who’d felled the felonious pair.
The thugs’ insistence that they’d been strolling innocently when they were attacked was instantly discounted when Rod pointed out the knife lying in the gutter. It was quickly bagged, along with a gun they found on number one, after they got him to his feet.
Once he was confined to the back of a cop car, and the other one loaded into the ambulance, Rod and Juliet were invited to ride over to the police department to complete reports. Rod managed to convince them to let him drive his truck, but an officer insisted on riding with them. Ostensibly to make sure they found the way, but Rod suspected it was to make sure they arrived. Not that he minded—a third riding in the cab meant he and Juliet sat very close and cozy.
It wasn’t until they stood in the harsh lights of the police department that he noticed how disheveled she was. Her T-shirt had a rip in the armhole and she was barefoot.
“I kicked them off back in the street,” she explained. “Strappy sandals are useless when it comes to kicking.”
He wanted to kiss her there and then and muss her hair up even more, but they were led off into different rooms to give their reports.
Later, sitting side by side, waiting for the okay to leave, she gave a tired smile. “Honestly, I’m getting fed up. I swear they questioned everything I told them.”
“Honey,” he replied, “if I hadn’t been there, I’m not sure I’d believe you felled those dudes with your bare hands and feet.” He stretched his arm behind her and let his hand rest on her shoulder. To his delight, she leaned into him. “To look at you, no one would think you packed such a punch or could kick like that.”
She chuckled. “It’s called taking the enemy by surprise.”
“Not just the enemy.”
Another laugh, a sexy, throaty one this time. “Is that why they all sounded so skeptical?”
“Why not? No one expects nice English ladies to lay lowlifes flat.”
She threw her head back against his arm and laughed so loud the officer manning the desk looked up from his computer. “Seems to me,” she said, “some of you have r
ather odd ideas about the English.”
“Must come from watching too much public television.” That set her off on a giggling fit. Rod held her close, suspecting stress was beginning to show. “Want a cup of coffee or a Coke? I could try to get one.”
“No, thank you,” her voice was tight and tired. “I just want to get home, get in the shower, and scrub myself clean.”
She reached out her hand and he grasped it with his free one. “We’ll be home soon. They can’t keep us here all night.” He hoped.
Twenty minutes later they were back in the truck, heading home. She sat close, even though there was space to spare. Not that he was about to complain. If she needed the contact, he was more than willing. They drove home in near silence. He thought she’d fallen asleep several times until she moved or snuggled closer, or one time reached out her hand to squeeze his.
At least the Rooster was dark and shut up when they eventually arrived. He parked in the alley and turned off the engine. “Back home,” he said, “and since you saved me, you get first dibs on the shower.”
She made a sound like a cross between a choke and a cough, muttered something he didn’t quite catch, then sniffed. She was trying unsuccessfully to hold back tears. He caught two with the pads of his thumbs. “Hush,” he said, his mouth in her hair. “It’s okay, Juliet, we’re home. It’s okay, Juliet.”
She grabbed him, rested her head against his chest, and sniffed again. “I know. It was so scary.” And she started shaking.
Doc Sherman would mutter about delayed shock. Rod just knew he wanted to pulverize those two punks. Although she might make a better job of it. “Honey, you did good and fixed their wagon. What you need is a hot shower and a good stiff drink.” And his arms around her all night, but that last he kept to himself. He was not going to push anything on her while she was so torn up.
He carried her to the door—she was barefoot after all—stood her close to him, keeping his arm around her, while he unlocked the door, and once he had it closed behind them, took her upstairs and down the hallway, ignoring her halfhearted protest that she did have legs, even if they were wobbly. He went straight to the bathroom, with the new shower curtain she’d put up that very morning. Hell, seemed like three weeks.
Setting her on her feet, he got the shower going, then helped pull the ripped T-shirt over her head. This was going to be torture, but she needed TLC right now, not fucking. Seeing the red, lacy bra did not make anything easier. Her breasts were perfect: just big enough to fill his hands. Not now! He got her jeans off and found, to his delight, she wore matching panties. Something about red lace against her fair skin had his body way overreacting.
“Okay now?” he asked, knowing he damn well wasn’t. “I’ll throw this lot in the dirty laundry and get you a drink to help you sleep. What do you want? Bourbon? Rye?” She shook her head. Thinking even that much seemed beyond her. “I’ll get you something. You get yourself in the shower.”
She nodded and he closed the door behind him, lingering outside a few moments while his fertile imagination pictured her sans all that red lace and wet under the shower spray.
Better do what he’d promised. He put the dim lights on in the bar—no point in drawing attention, although he didn’t doubt news would spread within twenty-four hours—and reached for the Rock and Rye.
He gave her plenty of time in the shower. When he got back upstairs, she was wearing a long, cotton nightshirt and drying her hair.
Her smile was the most incredible mix of nervousness, bravery, and sheer outright sexiness. “Thanks,” she said as he held up the glass. “I’ll drink it in bed. You’re right—I’ll need something to knock me out tonight.”
Unable to stop himself, he followed her into her bedroom, telling himself all he wanted to do was tuck her into bed and turn out the light.
He even managed it, leaving her sitting up in bed, sipping Rock and Rye while her hair gleamed like polished copper in the light from her lamp.
He headed for the bathroom. She’d taken most of the hot water but she was entitled to it. A cold shower was a better idea right now anyway.
Her light was still on and her door ajar when he passed. “Rod?” she called.
She looked pale in the dim light. Pale and shakier than before. He sat on the edge of her bed and held her hand. “I’m sorry to be so wet and feeble,” she said. “I’m getting the heebie-jeebies at being alone.”
“No problem. I’ll stay close until you get to sleep.”
He slipped under the sheets and kissed her forehead when she turned toward him. “Thanks, Rod.”
“Honey, you saved my life. Reckon I owe you.”
She went to sleep holding his hand. Just as well she wasn’t closer. That way he could keep his erection to himself.
Seven
Juliet woke early, aware of a warm body in her bed. A warm Rod. An aroused, warm Rod if the bump in the sheets was anything to go by. The previous evening replayed in her mind at warp speed. What a fiasco! And to top it off, she’d slept through the night with the sexiest man in the Western Hemisphere mere inches from her and she’d snored the opportunity away. That Rock and Rye stuff of his was potent in the extreme. Like him, she didn’t doubt.
But she was awake now.
He was still dead to the world. Okay, he had driven both ways and carried her upstairs—a treat she’d been too far gone to fully appreciate at the time. Now she was bright eyed and ready for him.
Seemed downright rude to actually wake him, so she settled for snuggling close and resting her head on his nicely naked chest. How had she missed it last night? It was broad, warm, and covered with just enough dark hair to tease her fingertips as she rested her hand over his nipple. Hearing his steady heartbeat in her ear was the cream on the cake.
She shut her eyes and prepared to doze off.
Rod shifted a little and a warm arm wrapped around her shoulders. “Doing okay?” he asked, kissing her forehead. She smiled at him and nodded. “So am I.”
That was patently obvious. Seemed a crime to waste such a glorious opportunity. “Are you awake?” she asked.
“Almost.”
Good! She’d hate to deprive a hard…working man of sleep. Taking full advantage of his arm holding her very close, she nestled into his warmth and strength and stretched her leg over his.
“Honey,” Rod said, his voice still a little raspy from sleep, “do you have in mind what I think you do?”
“Yes, please.”
His chest vibrated as he laughed. Even better, his hand cupped her breast, then smoothed over her nightshirt to stroke her other breast before finding the opening and sliding inside. As his warm fingers came skin to skin, she gasped. His touch was magic, incredible. As he brushed her nipple with his fingertips, her pussy responded. She was aching for him and they’d barely started.
He’d better not change his mind!
To make sure, she trailed her fingertips down his chest, not stopping when she reached the elastic of his boxers, but sliding her hand inside to his splendid erection.
If only last night had gone differently, but Juliet suspected Rod was worth waiting for. She closed her fingers over him and smiled at his hoarse groan. She stroked his cock down to the root and back again.
A louder groan. “Juliet, my love, give me a break! I’m about to lose it!”
She eased her hold just a wee bit. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist the temptation.”
He reached under the sheets and took her hand away but kept a tight hold on it as he kissed her fingertips. “I can’t think of a better way to wake up, but are you sure about this?”
“Rod, if I wasn’t sure, I’d have woken you up by pushing you out of bed.” Just to emphasize her point, she pulled her hand away and slid it slowly south, relishing the look in his eyes as her fingers trailed down his chest and hesitated over his belly.
“I get your message,” he said, grinning so hard he showed almost every one of his perfectly straight teeth. “Give me five minutes, swe
etheart. Gotta get us some protection.” He sat up, lifting her along with him, since she made a point of not moving. Staying close was infinitely preferable. “Won’t be long, I promise, but first…”
He held her head in both hands, tilting her face up to him, looking into her eyes for several long seconds before lowering his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and confident, leaving not the slightest doubt of his intentions. She smiled under his lips and he took the advantage and opened her mouth with his. Her heart snagged as he pressed his lips. Hard. She gave a little sigh and parted her lips completely, wanting him, needing him, yearning for his kiss. He didn’t disappoint. Holding her head steady, he possessed her mouth. Wild sensations raced through her. She wrapped her arms around him, not wanting him to leave, hoping he’d never stop. As his tongue moved against hers, she took over the kiss, pressing deep, caressing and feathering the tip of her tongue against his until he groaned and gently eased his mouth away. “Juliet, my love. I’ll be back!”
She didn’t doubt it and suspected she had a rather soppy grin on her face as she watched his delicious posterior dart out the door.
Hoping his five minutes was a gross exaggeration, Juliet yanked off her nightshirt and pulled the sheet up to her chin. Giving Rod a nice surprise could only work to her advantage.
He was back in far less than five minutes, a glint in his dark eyes, a grin on his face, and a box of condoms in his hand. And he’d shed those cotton boxers.
Good heavens! Things were bigger in Texas! She’d never much bothered about a lover’s cock, believing the man it was attached to mattered far more than the dimensions of a few inches of flesh and muscle.
She was fully prepared to revise that opinion.
As he walked toward her—cock hard, proud, and ready—Juliet sat up and stared, not wanting to miss one single second of the sight. The sheets dropped down to below her waist, but she barely noticed, her attention riveted on Rod. She licked her lips, her mouth watering in anticipation. “Oh, my,” she whispered as she looked up at him and caught an almost worried look in his eyes.
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