Unspoken Promises

by Becca Dale

  Unspoken Promises

  A Western Escape

  By

  Becca Dale

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2012 by Becca Dale

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-187-3

  Cover art by LFD Designs

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  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in, or encourage, the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

  ~Also by Becca Dale~

  Can’t Stop Me

  Kya’s King

  1Night Stand Stories

  Erotic Healing

  Heart Desires

  Unspoken Promises

  Treynor Pandoah sat on the hood of his patrol car and crossed one ankle over the other as he glanced toward the Freewill National Bank. The clock read five after three. Main Street remained empty. “Where is she?”

  The spring sunshine seemed warmer than normal, and a whiff of body odor and old-fashioned tobacco burned his nose. You finally gonna step up, boy?

  The whiskey roughened voice startled him, bringing him to his feet as he glanced down the silent street. “Who’s there?”

  He heard someone spit and a small wet spot appeared on the ground near his boot. Any man lets his gal treat ‘im that way ain’t much of a man.

  Pierre Dauville? Treynor laid his hand on his pistol though it would do no good if the voice had actually come from the local ghost. Shaking off the odd feeling of being watched, he leaned against his car once more. Whoever or whatever had spoken was right. No man should wait nearly two months for a woman to get over her snit.

  The door to Jensen’s Grocery opened; Billie Jensen and Jenna Curtz emerged, their gazes deliberately turned from him. They were almost joined at the hip, which was a large part of the problem. Getting a woman to listen when her best friend considered a guy a liar was harder than breaking a stubborn colt.

  The two of them hurried past like he might shoot them and disappeared into The Hometown Bakery. A quick glance at the clock confirmed they were ten minutes behind schedule for their afternoon break.

  A man aught ta take what’s his by right.

  “Shut-up, Dauville.” Treynor removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead before following Billie, hat and heart in hand.

  “Afternoon, Officer Pandoah, how’s it going?”

  “Not sure, Mrs. Harvey.” He paused when the ancient store owner patted his arm. A wedding band still graced her wrinkled hand despite the fact she’d been a widow for nearly half a century. Treynor put his palm over her fingers and winked. “I’ll take it outside if she gets wild.”

  The gentle old lady giggled. “’Bout time. Good luck then, son. I’m cheering for you.” Her good wishes settled his unease a bit. The whole town knew Billie had left him, and most were pretty much split on whether she should take him back or not.

  He brushed a kiss over Mrs. Harvey’s cheek in thanks and headed toward his fate.

  Jenna stood as he approached their table. “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Why don’t you get that through your thick skull?”

  Ignoring her, he tossed his hat on the table and stared down at Billie. Her Scandinavian heritage graced her lovely face, but the shiny black hair, which hung in a single braid to the middle of her back, was pure Shoshone. She didn’t lift her head so he could see her beautiful brown eyes. “Can’t ignore me forever, Willamina.”

  Using her full name earned him a glare and he almost laughed. The faint scent of lavender and mint drifted to him, and images from the last time they’d shared her clawfoot tub flooded his head. The handmade soap had left him smelling girlie as all get out, but the chance to explore her trembling body had been worth it. He held out his hand. “You coming?”

  “I have no interest in talking to a cheat, Officer Pandoah.”

  Her friend shoved him. “I told you to leave her be.”

  Anger boiled in his gut, but he tamped down his temper and shot her a glance. “Stay out of it, Jenna. Unless you want to be charged with assaulting an officer, plant your backside and let us talk.”

  She shoved him again despite the fact he didn’t budge. “We saw you kissing Diane Farrow.”

  “You saw wrong.” Nothing he did or said would make much difference if he didn’t get his girl alone. “Can we discuss this, huittsuu?”

  Tears welled in her wide eyes. “No, and I am not your little bird.”

  “Then I’m done asking.” Without giving her time to process that information, he pulled her to her feet, bent, and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of feed.

  She squealed and kicked, but he held on tight. “Treynor, let me go!”

  “Not likely.” He plunked his hat on his head with a nod to Mrs. Harvey and headed out the door.

  Jenna followed pounding on his free arm. “You’ve got no right to treat her like this.”

  Bypassing his patrol car, he walked down the sidewalk with one woman twisting in his arms and another slapping on him like he was some sort of kidnapper.

  “Treynor, if you don’t put me down, I’ll….”

  He chuckled when her threat trailed off, a sure sign she wasn’t as angry with him as she let on. He shouldered his way into the small grocery. “Vivian!”

  Billie’s mother hurried out of the back wiping her hands on her apron. “Treynor? Would you like to tell me why you’re carting my daughter around?”

  “Billie might be late coming back from break.”

  Jenna tugged on her friend. “Make him let her go, Mrs. Jensen.”

  Vivian stepped closer and put a hand on her daughter’s leg. “You planning on doing anything I’d disapprove of, young man?”

  “Not likely. Just talk.”

  “Well, all right then. Jenna, stay out of it.”

  “Mom!” Blood started to pound in Billie’s head from hanging upside down, and the stiff fabric of Treynor’s uniform abraded her cheek. She braced her hands on his lower back and pushed upward. From the corner of her eye she watched her mother pull Jenna aside.

  “I’ve told you all along you need to give the boy a chance to explain, sweetie.”

  Of course she would think that. Her mother had spent the better part of her life believing and forgiving a man’s lies. Resigned to listening to what Treynor had to say, she pinched his butt to get his attention. His muscles jerked but he didn’t otherwise acknowledge her, merely walked out into the sunshine. “You can put me down.”

  He set her on her feet beside his car almost immediately then opened the door to the front passenger seat. “Get in and put on your belt.”

  “I don’t seem to have a choice, do I?”

  “You wasted your choices. Now, plant your backside and don’t move.”

  He waited until she sat down before he slammed the door and ran around the front of the car to the driver’s side. His Highway Patrol uniform
emphasized his firm muscles and wide shoulders. He settled behind the steering wheel, tossed his hat in the back seat, and waited without speaking until she hooked her seatbelt. Once he heard the click, he fastened his own and started the car.

  “Should you be hauling civilians around when you’re on duty?”

  “I’m signed off.”

  A muscle jumped in his cheek. She missed the way he’d worn his hair long and straight in the traditional style before he’d become an officer, but the short cut complemented his angular bone structure. Like the man could look less than incredible. Therein lay half the problem. Her hands trembled, and she clasped them in her lap to hide how much she wanted to reach across the console and smooth the tension from his jaw. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

  “In a minute.”

  God! Does he always have to be so damned stoic? A smile tugged at her mouth. Yeah, he does. Even in the throes of passion Treynor remained a man of few words, but when he chose to speak, her entire being listened. A twist of pain shattered the happy memory. His quiet mannerisms had convinced her he was solid, reliable. Unlike her verbose father. She’d told herself such a man would not bother to lie. She’d been wrong.

  ***

  Billie watched Treynor while he drove toward his place in silence. He glanced her way before he turned down the narrow drive to his acreage. When he pulled up in front of the small house, he shut down the vehicle and got out without looking at her. “Come on.”

  The urge to refuse crept in, but his rigid stance as he opened her door and waited told her not to push her luck too far. Stepping from the car, she ignored the hand he held out. Instead, she crossed the yard to lean on the corral. She couldn’t go inside his house, couldn’t handle the memory of waking in his arms on his old-fashioned iron bed. Or think about the way he made love, as if no one or nothing meant more to him than she did.

  Washout, Treynor’s three-year-old quarter horse, loped to the fence, tossing his head and whickering in greeting. Billie stepped onto the lowest rail and scratched the beautiful sorrel’s forehead. “Hello, gorgeous. How are you?”

  “He missed you.” Treynor’s warm hand burned the small of her back, his thumb stroking her spine while he steadied her.

  Was he only talking about the horse? Fighting the urge to lean back against the man who haunted her dreams day and night, she scooted away. “He’ll get over it. No one hangs around forever.”

  “Not true.”

  She dropped from the fence and looked up into his stunning blue eyes. Excited and edgy, she’d waited for him to get off work and join her at the Valentine’s Dance, eager to taste his kiss and enjoy his firm caress. Nothing could have prepared her to witness him nuzzle the neck of another woman. Jenna had dragged her off but not before she’d seen the smile on his face and heard his sexy laugh. Even after almost eight weeks, she still wanted to hit him, to hurt him physically. He had torn her heart out in front of the entire town. How was she supposed to believe him when he said it was a misunderstanding? Diane had claimed he was simply telling her something but wouldn’t say what. If it had been so innocent, she would have shared.

  Washout stretched his nose over the top railing and nudged her shoulder, throwing her forward. Treynor’s hands closed over her arms. She jerked away and studied the ground. His boots were dusty, something he rarely allowed to happen when he was in uniform. “Coming here was a bad idea.”

  “Why?”

  Why? He should know the answer. Bitter laughter bubbled up while she struggled to control the resentment rising in her chest. Anger was a useless emotion, a waste of time and energy. Watching her parents fight about lies and then forgive one another over and over again had proven it. She straightened her spine and glared up at the man who would destroy her if she allowed herself to believe in the impossible. “I won’t be with a liar, Treynor. I can’t.” Her voice broke, and she turned to bury her face against the gelding’s solid neck.

  “I know.” Long hands closed over her shoulders and squeezed gently. He kissed the top of her hair in his gentle way as if they’d never parted.

  The gesture she had always loved triggered a different response than normal. She spun from his touch and glared at him. “You know? That’s it? No, ‘I’m sorry I shamed you in front of the entire population of Freewill?’ Or, ‘I’m sorry I screwed up’?” She punched him in the sternum, but he didn’t even flinch.

  “I shouldn’t have to explain.”

  “You’re wrong.” Unable to control herself any longer, she slugged him in the stomach, repeatedly, using the blows to punctuate her fury. “I waited for you, you stupid jerk! I thought after the way we made love—”

  He caught her fists and stopped her flailing when words failed her. “Thought what?”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks. He had lied and cheated. “I thought you were different. Not like my father.”

  “I am.”

  “Right. If you didn’t do anything wrong, then why not tell me?”

  He shifted her wrists to one hand and smoothed her braid with the other. “You weren’t ready.”

  “Oh! So all this is my fault?”

  “Didn’t say that.”

  “What was I supposed to do, Treynor? Huh?” Twisting against his hold, she tried to flee the comfort of his strength. More than anything she wanted to believe whatever he chose to tell her, but she could not bear to hear lies from his lips. “What did you expect from me?”

  “Trust.” The momentum of anger fled and left her emotions unprotected as his simple answer crashed around her. A sob escaped when he pulled her into his arms, stroking her back. “We’re not your parents.” Treynor tipped her chin up and stared into her eyes. So many emotions rippled across his beloved face she couldn’t sort one from the other.

  She sucked in a deep breath to steady her trembling, but his manly scent derailed that idea. Instead, she focused on protecting her heart. “So tell me how my own eyes betrayed me. Explain how Jenna and half of Freewill are wrong.”

  “I shared a secret.”

  “Why? What would you tell Diane that you couldn’t tell me?” Washout snuffled, his hot breath tickling her neck.

  Treynor hesitated longer than usual. “I couldn’t talk to someone close to you.” A pained expression crossed his face before he dug in his pocket, pulling out a finely wrought silver band. There was no ostentatious diamond, or any stone at all, but the delicate metalwork stole her breath even before his intentions registered. “I bought this after we first made love, but I was waiting for the right moment. Valentine’s seemed good as any.”

  Tears streamed faster. Dare she trust him? “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

  He looked down at the ring in his fingers before he stuffed it in his pocket without a word. Her heart broke again. Had he changed his mind then? Had she hurt him so much when she left? The muscle in his cheek flexed again when his jaw tightened.

  Reaching up, she feathered her fingertips along his smooth skin. “If you don’t stop gritting your teeth, you’ll grind the enamel off.”

  Vivid blue eyes bore into hers. “Would it matter?”

  Suddenly, her mother’s folly in trusting her father seemed understandable. She would forgive Treynor anything, which was too dangerous to contemplate. “I never want to see you hurt.”

  “Then come back.”

  Panic rose. What if he was no better than her father? Could she play the fool? No. Desperate, she headed for the car. Being with him, on his place where she had hoped they could build a life together, weakened her resolve. She had to return to town, away from him and his unspoken promises. “Take me home, Treynor. Mom will be worried.”

  Stubborn little…. Treynor clicked the key fob and locked the car door before she could open it. Even though he understood her fears—her father had been a cheating ass—he still wanted to grab her and shake her, to flip her over his knee and paddle her gorgeous little tail until she admitted she loved him. Billie tipped her head down and her shoulders shook.
Careful, he turned her to face him. “Are you crying, huittsuu?” His irritation fled with the sadness on her face. She had shed too many tears over a misunderstanding. “Don’t. Please.”

  Capturing her lips beneath his, he silenced the protest shining in her eyes. At first she held stiff, but slowly her body leaned into him, accepting the truth he struggled to speak. With a soft groan, he lifted her without breaking contact and carried her to the porch. Billie slid her arms around his neck, clinging to him the way she used to.

  He settled in the wide swing with her on his lap. Little sounds of surrender whispered around him while he nibbled his way from her lips to the sensitive curve of her neck. Shivers accompanied her sighs. She loved him. Her anger and her kisses declared it without doubt, so why did she not recognize the same truth from him? Cupping her breast, he caressed her until her fingers closed over his wrist and pulled his hand away.

  “No, I can’t. Not without knowing how you feel.”

  “A woman should know her man’s heart. Words are too easily bent.”

  “I don’t care. Bend them for me, please. Make me understand.”

  He set her down, stood, and walked to the porch rail to stare across the yard. His gut clenched. “What if I fail?”

  “You won’t as long as you tell me the truth…even if it breaks my heart.”

  Two months without her had hurt far more than he cared to admit. He would not pass on the opportunity to make it right. Facing her, he crossed to stand before the swing. If he pushed the issue, she would forgive him and return to his bed without the words, but she would never believe beyond doubt. He drew a fortifying breath and then sat beside her, elbows on his knees. With a quick glance he clarified he had her attention. Her lower lip quivered though she tried to be strong. The feminine expression melted his resistance.