by Becky McGraw
He mumbled something behind her hand, and Twyla moved it, but she didn’t wait for him to repeat himself. She grabbed the string hanging from his nose and yanked. Ryan howled, and grabbed her wrist. “No, wait,” he whispered, sucking in a breath. “I’ll do it.”
“Fine, I’ll get the bag of frozen peas from the freezer. That will help the swelling.” And it would also give her an excuse to get away from him, from his intoxicating scent which was wearing down her defenses. Twyla spun away and walked down the hall and to the kitchen. She flung open the freezer and shifted stuff around until she found the bag of peas.
Tiredness mixed with depression inside of her as she shut the freezer door and leaned her head against the cool exterior. She needed to get Ryan out of there and on his way back to wherever he was supposed to be. She didn’t know how long she was going to be able to pretend she wasn’t still nursing feelings for him. They were still there, but she was determined to get rid of them. To exorcise them from her soul. Exorcise him from her thoughts. That was real hard to do with him right here under her feet. But it was nearly three o’clock in the morning. She couldn’t in good conscience kick him out. He could sleep on the couch, but she was getting him out of there first thing in the morning, and tell him and her brother to back off.
With a deep sigh, she shoved away and walked back to the bathroom. Walking down the hall, her steps stuttered when she saw the bathroom door was open. Ryan, legs spread, naked except for a small towel wrapped around his lean hips, leaned on the sink examining his nose in the mirror, pressing his long fingers at the bridge. The well-defined muscles in his biceps and back were on prime display, the bottom of his tight ass nearly showing at the hem of the towel.
Twyla’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, as she made the last few steps to the door. When she pried it loose, she asked, “Why are you naked?”
He sighed, and patted his fingers gently around the edge of the bruise on his eye. “Seeing if anything is broken. Bleeding didn’t start again, thank God.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’ve shucked your clothes.”
He looked at her, and grinned. “Bothering you, darlin’?” His eyebrow lifted and he flinched. “We’re family, so it shouldn’t matter, right? I’m about to take a shower.”
So he hadn’t missed her family reference a few minutes ago, and was evidently paying her back. Testing her. Ryan knew how she felt about him. It looked like he also knew she wasn’t as over him as she was trying to pretend. Well two could play his game. For some reason he must enjoy having her in the palm of his hand. Panting after him like a school girl. It probably fed his over-inflated ego. Those days were over for her. He needed to know that.
Twyla somehow maintained her cool, even though her palms were itching to see just how soft that light fur on his tightly muscled chest was. To taste the soft skin of his neck where she saw his heart pounding. Clenching her fists at her sides, the peas froze her palm as she inched up her chin. “Doesn’t matter a bit. Why bother with the towel?”
Oh please don’t bother, her inner woman begged, but she slapped the masochistic bitch, and tossed the peas down on the counter angrily.
“Take your shower, and put those on your eye. Catch a few hours on the couch, then get the hell out of here, Ryan.” Her eyes raked him to his toes, then back up. “But Heather is around and she’s not family, so put some clothes on when you come out.” She turned her back, and forced nonchalance into her tone as she finished, “I’ll probably be gone when you get up. I have things to do tomorrow. Have a safe trip back to wherever.”
She had taken two steps when Ryan drawled, “Twyla?” His deep, now less nasally voice skated along her nerve endings.
Stopping, she slowly turned around and gasped. The towel was now pooled at his feet, and Ryan leaned negligently against the vanity, buck naked, grinning from ear to ear. Because she couldn’t stop them, her eyes followed the thin trail of hair that bisected his tight abs downward to his semi-erect penis. It was thick and long, and a vein pulsed from the base along the side to the thick head. Her breathing hitched, moisture gathered between her legs, and a weird throb started at the apex of her thighs. She slammed her eyes shut, wanting to forget what she’d just seen. Wanting to remember just as badly, so she had some point of reference in the future.
“What game are you playing, Ryan? It’s not funny. If Zack knew he’d kill you.”
“He’s probably going to do that anyway. But I’m not leaving here until you come back with me,” he said smoothly, then cleared his throat. “Whatever it takes to get you to do that.”
Whatever it takes? Her mind quickly put together his naked display with that phrase and came up with his exact meaning. This rodeo Romeo was telling her he was willing to sleep with her to get her to go back with him. He was offering her a sympathy fuck.
Well Twyla might be hard up, because of him and her damned brother, but she wasn’t a fucking charity case. Her eyes locked on his dick and she issued a dry, harsh laugh. “Well cowboy, I’m sure that little sprout satisfies those buckle bunnies just fine, but I’m used to um, more mature men.” She moved her eyes up to his shocked blue gaze. “But your balls sure are big enough that’s for sure.”
His face flushed and his hands shot down to cover himself. Twyla threw back her head and laughed loudly. Shaking her head, she turned away, and heard the bathroom door slam shut behind her as she walked to her bedroom. She took one of her pillows and a blanket off of her bed, and walked to the couch to throw them over the back with disgust. If Ryan Easter wasn’t out of there tomorrow, she was definitely going to let Heather call the cops to get him out.
His stupidity a moment ago had been the final straw. Twyla Taylor was definitely over Ryan Easter, or she would be as soon as her stupid heart got on board with the plan. She was well on her way to being there now though. If that man ever wanted to find a woman who would put up with his dumb ass, he needed to get over himself. Twyla knew one thing for sure, she wasn’t woman enough for the job.
CHAPTER FIVE
Ryan woke up to pans banging loudly and groaned. Every muscle in his body was rubber-band tight, and a spring from the old sofa had almost embedded itself in his hip. He tried to open his eyes and they seemed to be welded shut. Ungluing them, one opened and felt like sandpaper was inside the lid. The other didn’t open, then he remembered the bar fight, and the macing he’d gotten from Heather last night. Bright sunlight shot through the crack in the drapes at the front window to pierce his brain. Ryan groaned and flopped his forearm over his eyes.
“I hear you rustling in there, buddy. Get your ass up and on the road,” Twyla said loudly from the kitchen, punctuating her demand by slamming a skillet or something down on the stove.
The metallic rattle echoed in his skull. That woman had no mercy at all, no compassion that just last night he’d gotten his ass kicked by not one, but three people. By a man who should be a professional boxer or wrestler, and two fucking wild ass, crazy cowgirls. That last part was pretty embarrassing. A man who had been a professional cowboy since he grew hair on his balls had gotten his ass kicked good by those two women, after the bruiser worked him over.
Maybe he should just load up in his truck and head to Santa Fe, their next stop on the tour. Let Zack come here on their next break to hogtie his sister and haul her back with him. Good luck with that. Ryan was starting to believe neither he or Zack were man enough for the job. But he knew if Zack came here and saw what Twyla was up to, there might not be anything left of her for him to haul home. He would probably just kill her and hide the body to save his parents the disgrace. Ryan knew that’s what it would be too. A disgrace.
Mr. and Mrs. Taylor were upright, forthright and straight shooters. They had worked exceptionally hard to give their kids a good upbringing with the right morals. Hell, he knew they’d set a good example for him, something his own family sure as hell hadn’t. That’s why he knew what he needed to do now. Whatever it took to get Twyla out of here, away f
rom her crazy friend who was leading her down the path to perdition.
If he was lucky, if Twyla was lucky, they’d never find out. Ryan owed it to them to stay and try to talk some sense into their youngest member, and he wasn’t leaving before he did that. If he could accomplish that by Wednesday, he’d have enough time for them to make Santa Fe by their first ride on Thursday night.
But it looked like his unfriendly host wasn’t going to let him stay here. So that meant he’d be sleeping in his truck tonight, because he wasn’t letting her out of his sight. Ryan threw back the light blanket and sat up, biting back a moan when a sharp pain shot through his skull. His nose felt like it was packed, and he knew it wasn’t. He’d removed the damned tampon last night, and hadn’t repacked it. Gingerly, he reached up and felt the swollen bridge for obvious signs it was broken. Last night, he’d looked and didn’t think it was. This morning, it sure felt like it was. The bag of peas Twyla had given him had helped some, but they melted.
“You have another bag of peas?” he asked gruffly, his voice rusty and still sounding like he had the head cold from hell.
“No peas, and no room at the inn tonight. Get going, Ryan. We have things to do today. Heather already left to teach her dancing class, and I’ve got to get out of here too.”
Heather was gone. This might be his only opportunity to talk to Twyla alone.
Ryan swung his legs over the edge of the sofa and stood, then raised his arms over his head to work out the kinks in his spine. With a deep sigh he turned toward the kitchen, and found Twyla staring at his crotch through the serving window at the breakfast bar. That meant she had been staring at his ass before he turned around. His morning wood, became California-sized redwood, as her eyes continued to scorch him through his underwear. He covered himself.
Sprout, huh? Now that he wasn’t embarrassed and angry, he did see the humor in her comment. Her sharp tongue had always been something Ryan lov—um, liked about Twyla. He enjoyed sparring with her, because he never knew what she was going to come out with.
The only reason he’d done what he had last night was because she’d used that sharp tongue to bait him to drop the towel. He definitely hadn’t meant he would have sex with her to get her to come home with him. That’s what she thought he meant though. Because it was on her mind. Had been on her mind for a very long time, and his too. There was no way Ryan was giving in to that urge now though. He’d fought it too damned long to give in now. The consequences of doing that were too great. He couldn’t do that to his surrogate family.
But he could get a little retribution for her comment. “Thought you weren’t interested? You’re sure staring like you are,” he accused with a wry grin. Her blue eyes swung up to his and she looked surprised, as if she hadn’t realized she’d been staring a hole through him.
Twyla wasn’t slick like he was. Ryan caught her staring often, and honestly felt bad for her. But not as bad as he felt for himself. That look she got in her eyes ripped at his insides and made it damned tough to keep his hands off of her. Because of that look, every woman Ryan was with wore her face when he closed his eyes. It was just sick. Pathetic.
It had to stop so they could both find peace. If it didn’t, they’d end up with hard feelings that could drive a wedge between them forever. Ryan had started that process with his harsh words to push her away the other night. He knew he had pushed too far this time.
That’s why she’d left, and was here now. An honest conversation with her might go a long way to smoothing things between them. But to have it, he would need the balls she accused him of having last night. Ryan wasn’t sure at the end of it, that she would understand any better why they needed to remain friends, but he had to try.
Twyla looked down and shifted the skillet to flip the egg she was frying without answering, which told him she was the one embarrassed now.
He sighed heavily. “Twy, we need to talk.”
“I have nothing to say to you, Ryan. You just need to leave.” Her voice was as flat as the egg in that skillet.
He walked into the kitchen, stood beside her at the stove and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry for what I said to you the other night. It was wrong, and I only did it to push you away.” He swallowed hard and worked up his courage. “What if I told you I want you as much as you want me? Have for years….”
Her breathing hitched, her shoulders tightened, but she still didn’t look at him. “That’s bullshit and you know it. I’m not buying it, Ryan, and I’m not coming back with you, or sleeping with you if that’s what you’re after. You had your chance.” She shook the skillet extra vigorously over the eye on the stove, sliding the egg around like a hockey puck, showing the level of her agitation. “Give it up and just go back.”
“That’s not bullshit, Twy. It’s the truth,” Ryan replied evenly. “And trust me. Saying that to you is not for the purpose of sleeping with you. That’s what I am trying to avoid. Going there would be bad for both of us, and for the family. We can work this out, if you’ll just talk to me instead of running off.” A weight seemed to float off of his shoulders, but plopped back down when she slammed the skillet on the stove and turned her angry blue eyes on him.
Her hand shook as she glanced down at the knob to turn off the burner. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” Twyla growled, shooting him an angry glare as she tried to brush past him.
Ryan grabbed her arm. “We need to work this out, honey. For us, and for the family.”
Her angry blue eyes locked on his and the corner of her full lips curled. “My family is fine, and I am now too. There’s nothing to work out. I hopped off the merry-go-round when I left you in Tulsa. You have nothing to worry about now. It’s over, Ryan.”
It wasn’t over by a long shot. His heart squeezed in his chest and he swallowed hard. “I know it pisses you off, but I think of them as my family too. They are my family.”
Hell, Ryan had lived with the Taylors since he was a sixteen-year-old runaway. Thank God when his mother found him she had the good sense to just leave him there. Lord knew what would’ve happened if she’d have forced him to go back and live with her and her new husband. He’d probably be in jail for killing the man.
He almost had when he paid her a visit when he was eighteen. Ryan hadn’t been back since, in twelve years, but he knew they’d moved to a small town outside of Houston. Just far enough from the Taylors’ home in Dallas, his home base when he wasn’t on the road, for him to keep his distance. The restraining order Clarence James had gotten against him was a sure visit to jail if he couldn’t keep that distance.
The irony that the courts had awarded the abuser the restraining order against the person trying to save the abused wasn’t lost on Ryan. The system sucked, as far as he was concerned. But until his mother chose to step up and save herself, he couldn’t do anything to help her. Somehow he’d managed to stop worrying about her every day a few years ago. That didn’t mean he didn’t worry though. He just tried not to let it consume him like he had before.
Twyla sighed heavily, and jerked her arm from his grasp. “Fine, they’re your family too. I won’t be around much, so tell mama I love her when you see her.”
She went to turn away, but Ryan grabbed her shoulders and spun her back around. “You are my family too, Twy!”
She shook her shoulders free. “Then you’re a perverted son-of-a-bitch, because you just told me you wanted me a minute ago. Make up your mind, Ryan. I’m dizzy from this shit. Enough is enough. Just leave me alone!”
Ryan was just as dizzy as she was from it. He was confused, frustrated and about at the end of his rope here. He wished she’d just talk to him…or at least listen. The problem was, now that he’d admitted the secret he’d kept for ten years, he had no idea what else he wanted to say to her. And Twyla was right, he was a perverted son-of-a-bitch evidently, because he couldn’t drag his eyes off of her pert ass as she stomped off toward the bedroom. He reached down to stroke his painful erection, and growle
d out his frustration as she slammed the bedroom door.
Twyla slammed drawers as she rifled through them to find her riding clothes. She quickly shed her pajama pants, and jerked on her jeans. Ryan Easter was determined to drive her nuts. That’s the only explanation she could come up with for his being here at all. For his saying what he’d said to her in the kitchen. The tug of war between them was over, as far as she was concerned. She was trying to put her feelings for him to rest.
Why the hell wouldn’t he let her?
She was trying to give him what he wanted. If he’d been struggling that bad for so many years to keep his hands to himself like he said, then why wasn’t he happy about it? Was he trying to torture her? Was his fricking ego so big, he couldn’t just let sleeping dogs lie? Did he miss her tagging after him like a sad-eyed puppy craving a scrap of his attention?
That had to be it.
The man had been chased by so many buckle bunnies she couldn’t count them on both hands and her toes. He seemed to like that chase, rubbed those women in her face often. Twyla had called off the chase, and now he wanted her back in the race.
Not happening.
Even if he taunted her, tortured her, by walking around in those tight, white underwear with his dick the size of a cucumber. Even if he dropped his drawers in front of her like he had last night looking like an ice cream sundae with a Twinkie on top. Twyla wasn’t interested. There was nothing the man could do to tempt her do that now.
Absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.
Then why did her hands shake so badly when she picked up her worn t-shirt to pull it over her head. They shook so badly she could barely scrape her hair back into a ponytail. She covered the tangled mess with her ratty straw Stetson, tucked in her t-shirt and somehow managed to slide the supple leather belt with her high school barrel racing award buckle through the loops at her waist. That belt buckle and her saddle were the only awards she’d ever received in the sport. That day had been a shining moment for her, and both Zack and Ryan had been there to watch her ride, and receive her prizes. That night had been the night Ryan had almost kissed her.
