Case followed her down the steps. “You can’t go for a walk out here. Hell, honey. The scorpions alone are bigger than your hand. And it’s dark. No lights.”
She could see that all right. Actually, she couldn’t see much but the shine from the hood of his truck. Even so, that was enough to lead her there. She yanked open the door to the cab, climbed in and locked herself in with a click.
“Now, honey, come on out here. Let me talk to you.” He pulled on the handle to no avail.
She turned the ignition. A light came on inside and she graced him with a Cheshire cat grin.
His face fell. “Where are you going?” he called through the closed window. “Sam?”
“Leaving,” she murmured and spun gravel like a cement mixer as she gunned the engine. “On a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be back again.”
She wiggled her fingers at him as she sped away. “I hope you two will be very happy together.”
Chapter Nine
By the next morning at ten, her room in the B&B looked like a funeral parlor. Smelled like it too, from all the bouquets that the local florists delivered, it seemed, every ten minutes. She didn’t bother to look at the cards. She told herself she didn’t care who had sent them or what they said.
What a lie.
Pushing back the truth, she slung her purse over her shoulder and opened her door. There stood Case in front of the main house, talking with Sasha Gaylord, the owner of the Breakaway B&B. Sam’s heart aflutter, she panicked and stepped back inside her room. She was not ready to talk to him. She was too distraught, too achingly disappointed that he had not told her Joel might come and that they shared women sexually. She liked Joel, or had before last night, but never had she wanted him in bed with her. Now she knew the reason for that. He had a wrinkle in his personality that she didn’t quite trust. The alcohol might be the cause, but whatever it was, that was Joel’s issue to figure out. Never hers.
Her issue with Case was a different story. Until she had a chance to clear her brain of last night’s surprising revelations about the two men, she was not going to talk to Case. When she did, she had to feel in command and know what she wanted, if anything, from their relationship. She vowed not to be railroaded, not to bend to Case’s will. She vowed to save her integrity in this relationship, if there was to be one.
But for now, she had to get away from him. Squeezing her eyes shut, she envisioned the pathway from her door and how it was secluded by tall rosebushes abloom with large crimson flowers. She snapped her fingers. She’d take a chance and slide away from him, using the cover of the roses. She had an appointment and she was not going to miss it.
Quiet as a mouse, she opened her door and tiptoed along the sidewalk toward the side of the bungalow. Safely around the corner, she straightened and breathed a sigh of relief. Then she hurried toward Main Street and the courthouse.
Minutes later, when she walked into the century-old limestone building to keep her appointment with the county surveyor, she knew the hollow spot she felt in her heart was for the man she’d thought she could easily fall in love with. Angry at herself, she admitted that she had considered letting her guard down and committing her heart to a man who was not what she thought. A man who did not care for her with the same kind of devotion she wanted to shower on him.
“Good morning, Mister DeWitt,” she greeted the surveyor, a young man who looked to be about thirty. He had the tall, lean look of an Irishman with chiseled features, black-as-coal hair and eyes the color of shamrocks.
“Oh hi, Miz Marlowe.” He beamed at her and motioned her inside. “Come sit down. How’d you like some coffee?” he asked her in a thick Texas twang.
“Love some. Laced with cream or something that resembles it, please.”
“Back in a jiffy,” he told her, turning for the hall and disappearing.
Thank heavens Bret DeWitt possessed a positive professional attitude. His sunny personality and a jolt of caffeine were just what the doctor ordered, considering she had arrived back to her room at quarter to one in the morning. The way home to her B&B had been quick and easy after she stopped at the first service station she found and asked for directions back to Bravado. Once in her guest room, she had torn off her clothes and laid her weary body on the bed.
She hadn’t slept well. Tossing and turning, she got a total of two hours max before she rose at six and went in to the breakfast room at the main house. There, she had bid hello to Sasha Gaylord and handed over the keys to Case’s truck with instructions to give them to him should he appear. Sam had avoided any of Sasha’s questions about the keys. Instead, Sam tried to eat her eggs and bacon. After a few mouthfuls, she’d returned to her room and tried to turn her mind to her real business in Bravado.
“Here you go!” Bret handed her a steaming cup, appropriately creamy to her taste. Then he took his seat behind his desk, piled high with oversized folders that she figured were collections of maps. “How is it?”
She took a sip and nodded. “Great stuff. Thank you. I needed this.”
“I put together the land surveys you asked me for last week. Starting with these,” he said as he slid on his horn-rimmed glasses and handed her a thick folder.
Putting her coffee on the table next to her, she took the surveys, placed the folder in her lap and opened to the first map. “This one is dated last month and then next—”
“Every March back in chronological order for ten years. I thought you would want more perspective on our water supply issue than just the five years you asked for. Hope that’s okay.”
She smiled at him. A man who provided a woman with what she needed. What a rare male Bret DeWitt was. “You bet it is.”
“That is also a copy. All yours.”
“Wonderful.”
“Yep. Take it with you back to Austin if you like. You will need evidence to change your mind on our appeal for more water from the River Authority.”
“I will. Thank you for this. It’s vital—”
“Excuse me, Bret.”
Sam stilled. That baritone she knew. Knew by the way it brushed her skin, set her flesh on fire and sank down deep inside her bones. How it roiled her. How it had called to her, teased her, pleased her to the core of her being.
“I wonder if I might have a word with Miss Marlowe.”
Sam shifted in her chair and locked her gaze on Case’s. “You may not.” She whipped around to stare at Bret. “Let’s continue, shall we?”
“Sam,” Case pleaded with her.
“No. You are interrupting my investigation.” She glanced at Bret, who sat with his hands folded and his face all scrunched up as if he were in pain. “Do not listen to him.”
“Darlin’,” Case called to her long and low so that Bret’s green eyes popped wide, “Bret owes me a favor. After all, I am the mayor here.”
“Well, I don’t care if you are the Dali Lama.”
“You know what?” Bret got to his feet. “I think I’ll let you two work your way through this little thing. I’ll be in the lobby. Call me when you’re done.”
“If you move one inch from that desk, Bret DeWitt,” she told him with a set jaw and narrowed gaze, “I promise you no matter what is in these maps, I will recommend no change in the water allotment for this county.”
“She won’t do that, Bret,” Case assured him. “She’s finer than that.”
Sam slapped the folder shut. She scowled at one man, then the other. “No, I am not. Leave at your own risk, Mr. DeWitt. And as for you, Mr. Mayor, do not push your luck.”
“I want to apologize, Sam.”
She crossed her arms, glaring across the desk at Bret DeWitt’s bobbing Adam’s apple. “Do it on your own time, Mayor. Not mine. Or Mr. DeWitt’s.”
“You must know that I never intended to let Joel come within an inch of you! I didn’t think he’d come to the cabin. I knew it had to be just you and me in that bed, the only way it ought to be!”
“Ohh!” She struggled to her feet, the unwieldy folder in her hand
and shook it at Case. “You are the most—most—”
“Slow-witted?” Case offered.
“Pigheaded man I have ever met.”
“Now I would say that is Joel Winthrop, not me, honey.”
“Argh!” How dare he conduct this conversation in front of a total stranger. In the county courthouse during her own meeting, for Christ’s sake! “I am done here.”
“Sam—”
She tried to shake free of Case’s grip. “Stop this. Let me go.”
“I can’t.”
Her gaze shot to Bret DeWitt, whose alternating expressions showed him to be torn between total outrage that Case would do this or laughter. “You allow your mayor to accost women in the courthouse?” Okay, so she was screeching. “I’m going to press charges.”
“Now, honey,” Case tried to soothe her.
And that’s when she kicked him in the shin.
Yelping, Case turned her loose to clutch his lower leg.
Horrified at herself, she swirled toward the lobby. Never in her life had she ever been more ashamed of herself as she strutted out of the surveyor’s office, purse and folder under her arm and tears in her eyes.
But as if that weren’t enough to make her see red, Case followed her down Main Street. Two paces behind her, he kept up with her and talked to her in a tempting silken tone as if she had been his lover forever.
“Darlin’, listen to me. I wanted last night to be about you and your birthday. I had a steak dinner planned. And a birthday cake. I even had chocolate ice cream.”
She marched on. Too bad for you, Turner. Too bad for me too.
“I worked on setting up the cabin all yesterday afternoon. That was why I was late.”
She recalled he had told her something similar when he picked her up.
“Sam, I wanted all of it to be a night to remember. I have never wanted to make any woman so happy as I wanted you to be with me there last night.”
She caught back a cry of agreement.
An elderly lady approached them on the sidewalk.
“I loved making love to you, Sam.”
The woman caught Sam’s eye and blinked in surprise. She had heard him!
Sam wanted to melt right through the pavement.
“You loved being with me too. I felt it, Sam. To my bones.”
“Hello, Case,” the lady sidestepped Sam and greeted him with a questioning tone.
“Howdy, Miss Callie, how are you?”
“I’m good. Better to walk with your lady, don’t you think, Case?”
“Yes ma’am, I am trying.”
Ohhhh god. Sam shook her head, mortified. She could hear how the lady clip-clopped down the lane.
“Sam, honey. You gotta give me a chance here.”
She rolled a shoulder, his statement making her quake with the memory of the two of them in the kitchen, on the floor, on his table and in the shower.
“I made a mistake, sweetie.”
She shook her head and picked up her pace.
“I should have told you about Joel and me. We have had a few women together. It’s what a lot of men here in town do.”
She skidded to a halt right there in the middle of the sidewalk. She whirled. “Why?”
He came right up to her, his hands cupping her elbows while he nestled his body to hers. His cock went instantly high and hard against her belly. “Well, we don’t have many women here, honey. Once they graduate high school, if they don’t marry their sweethearts, they light out for bigger cities or college. Most don’t return. But we have the finest land here for hundreds of miles.” He lifted his chin up to define the Hill Country. “We make money, lots of it. Ranching, raising cutting horses, prime herds of Angus and goats.
“This is good country, Sam, and the men make fortunes. We’re good men, darlin’. Hardworking and solid citizens. Some of us are damn wealthy. We’re in our prime, lots of us, and truth is, we’re lonely. Some of us travel to find companionship. The three MacRae brothers tried Dallas and Houston, but found a woman they could love right here when Cara Ford moved back to town. We do have the Bravado Club too, for…fun. We do what we can to live normal lives. We work hard. We play hard. We like our sex hot, heavy and often. Sometimes that means one woman for more than one man. All of that is with the woman’s consent, of course.”
He swept a hand over her cheek and the sorrow in his gray eyes eroded her resolve. “I wouldn’t ever give you away to anyone. I couldn’t agree to Joel’s demands. What can I do or say to have you let me back into your life?”
“I need time. I’m changing and I want to be certain I’m doing that the way I want and need. Joel’s appearance at your cabin threw me a curve ball last night because…because I like you.”
He raised an eyebrow, settling even closer to her body, his warmth seeping into her skin. “Like me?”
A car horn tooted.
A couple of teenagers hung out of a truck window and hooted at them. “Way to go, cowboy! Woo-hoo!”
She couldn’t resist the smile that rose to her lips, but she pushed at his chest. “Okay. I more than like you.”
His hands drifted into her scalp and he held her as he claimed her lips softly, gently, thoroughly. “I more than like you. I more than want you. I think I might even need you, Sam.”
His endearments undid her. And she dropped the folder to the pavement so that she could hug him close and kiss him back.
Across the street, people clapped.
Someone else clanged a cowbell.
“Oh for heaven’s sakes.” She hid her face in his shoulder.
Case chuckled and swayed with her back and forth. “We have an audience.”
“What about your reelection?” she teased him, half concerned about this becoming gossip that might reach back to Austin, especially if it were big news here. “Will your constituents approve of their mayor displaying his affections in the middle of Main Street on a Tuesday afternoon?”
His gaze danced into hers. “They love a man who claims the lady he adores.”
Adores her? Does he? The word sent her mind racing, her heart pumping faster in delight and terror for them both. “Hope they don’t think the water levels will be increased because the mayor has a thing for the lawyer from Austin.”
“I’ll set them straight. Don’t you worry. Water is one thing. Love is another.”
Love. His statement took her breath away. Her knees wobbled. “Case, I don’t know what to say.”
He hugged her close again, his lips at her ear, his voice husky with need. “Say you’ll have dinner with me tonight. Let me start over. Let me make this right.”
A few cars and trucks pulled over to the side of the road and this time, the clamor of horns and bells and people clapping had everyone laughing out loud. Including Case and her.
“Okay. Yes. Okay! This time,” she said, a brazen idea lighting up her brain, “I pick you up at your house. Six o’clock.” She pushed away and stepped back to tilt her head and wink at him. “Be ready.”
“I’m ready now, darlin’,” he crooned, trying to take her in his arms again.
Chuckling, she warded him off with a hand up.
People shouted and stomped.
“I’m not,” she affirmed and watched him pick up her folder and hand it to her. “Besides, you need to cool your heels.”
“Lady, it is not my heels that are hot.”
“Case Turner, I suspect there is no part of your body that isn’t. I just need to confirm that tonight.” She shrugged and threw him a little pout. “Six. Be out on your front porch, rarin’ to go.”
Her mind stuffed with a few silly ideas to launch their date tonight, Sam let herself into her bungalow.
No sooner had she kicked off her shoes and plunked her purse and the folder down on her desk than she heard a knock at her door.
She swung it open and there stood Joel Winthrop. Sheepish, he swept off his black Stetson. And truly, he looked like hell. His eyes were bloodshot and swollen even though h
is hair was wet from a recent shower and his clothes were neat and pressed.
“Hope I can come in and talk to you, Samantha.”
She walked backward and swept out a hand toward one of her chairs. She took a seat in the matching one. “Five minutes only. I have an appointment.”
Nodding, he closed the door behind him, took note of the profusion of flowers and then sat on the edge of a chair. Hands before him, he had trouble meeting her gaze. “I am sorry about last night. I was out of line and I just wanted you to know how I regret what I said and how I acted.”
She wanted to be gracious, but she took more offense by what Joel had done last night than what Case had failed to do. “Thank you for that.”
“I have a few problems.”
Don’t we all.
“I’m not trying to excuse myself for what I did. I just wanted to say this.” He opened his mouth a few times, searching for the right words. But shaking his head in frustration, he shot to his feet. “Sorry. I won’t bother you anymore. Wanted you to know that.”
She followed him to the door, wanting to say something to show she accepted his apology, even if she still felt awkward with him. “Thank you for coming. I do appreciate that.”
“I understand if you won’t trust me again.”
“I’ll try.”
He winced, and then fixed his hat back on his head. “I’m grateful.”
Chapter Ten
At five fifty, Case walked out onto his front porch, locked his front door and sat down on his grandfather’s big old oak rocker. He plunked his Stetson in his lap, crossed one ankle over his knee and pushed his sunglasses up his nose.
His eyes on the winding road to his home, he hoped Sam would not keep him waiting. His lips curled in a smile, anticipation for what she had in store for him eating him up. He wondered how her afternoon had gone—and if she’d had a chance to think more about his declaration of how much he cared for her.
He did. Last night and this morning had been the worst of his life, thinking about her, worrying about her and how she was faring after Joel had dropped the bomb of ménage on her. Joel. Joel. What a mess he was. How he needed to clean up his act. Case couldn’t say Joel had a drinking problem because he didn’t drink to excess all the time. Yet Case could see that the frequency with which Joel got blind drunk or just plain rattail stupid were increasing. Frankly, Joel probably had more PTSD than alcoholic addiction.
Tie Me Down: 2 (Knights in Black Leather) Page 9
