Hot Texas Sunrise

by Delores Fossen

  His muscles tightened and quivered, but he wasn’t giving off that high-intensity urgency of now, now, now. So, Cleo unzipped him, freed him from his boxers and put her tongue to good use.

  Now there was urgency.

  Judd had no dick-inch issues at all. There was plenty of him for her to tease and torture.

  He cursed her. Judd called her a really bad name that had her laughing, and she made sure there was plenty of breath mixed with it, too. It didn’t do a darn thing to cool down her own body, but at least Judd and she were now on the same hot page. Both were needy and raring to finish this so they’d get some relief from the pressure cookers ready to go off inside them.

  Still cursing her—and, yes, gritting his teeth—Judd took hold of her shoulders and dragged her back up his body. Then he turned her, reversing their positions so that he was on top of her again. Cleo nearly protested the halt to her tongue game, but he was out of his boxers now, and she could feel him hard as stone and ready...right between her thighs.

  Not a bad place to be.

  Judd got to work on her jeans, proving that his undressing skills were just as adept below the waist as they were above it. Adept, and he was able to multitask. He reached over to the nightstand, took out a condom and pressed it into her hand.

  “Get this on me.” His voice was smoke, heat and man. It went well with the rough, hurried hands he was sliding over her body as he peeled off her jeans and panties. Those two items landed on the bed next to her.

  Apparently, she hadn’t learned as much as Judd had about sexual finesse because Cleo fumbled with the condom. Still, she managed. Good thing, too, because Judd’s kisses and touches had her right at the breaking point. She wanted to break all right but not without him inside her. And then that’s exactly where he was.

  Judd shoved into her.

  Oh, my. That was so good. The pleasure hit her every place at once. She saw gold stars and heard music. At least she thought it was music, but when Judd cursed again, she realized it was her phone ringing. And his.

  Who the heck was calling them now? Cleo was so caught up in the pleasure-hitting that she wanted to tune it out, but then she remembered the boys. Judd must have, too, because without moving off her, he took out his phone from his pocket. That caused Cleo to curse, but she took her cell out from her jeans.

  “Darrell,” he mumbled when he looked at his phone screen. “A cop friend.” He didn’t answer it.

  “Daisy,” she said when she looked at hers.

  It couldn’t be good that both would call at the same time, and Cleo volleyed glances at her phone and Judd while she tried to figure out how to handle this. Maybe a text to ask...

  Or not.

  With his phone still in his hand, Judd thrust into her. Hard and fast. Then harder and faster. It didn’t take much at all because she was already primed and hot. Already needing to get to the breaking point. Judd fixed her up. He broke her, sent her flying and made her forget all about ringing phones as the orgasm rippled through her.

  Even with the rippling, though, she was aware that Judd stopped. He definitely hadn’t broken with her but instead he answered his phone.

  “What?” he snarled to his cop friend.

  Since he’d managed to get to his phone, Cleo answered hers, too, except she had to hit Redial since Daisy had already ended the call. Daisy answered right away.

  “Cleo, I hate to bother you, but I just got a call from the cops,” Daisy blurted out. “There’s been more trouble at the bar.”

  * * *

  IT TOOK CLEO a moment to fight through the postorgasmic haze and hear what Daisy was saying.

  “What kind of trouble?” Cleo asked. “It’s Sunday, and the bar’s closed.”

  She couldn’t hear what Darrell had told Judd, but whatever it was, it caused Judd to get off the bed—and off her. He gathered up his clothes and headed to the bathroom.

  “I don’t have all the details, but apparently it’s something to do with Lavinia,” Daisy said.

  Cleo now had proof that even an orgasm thanks to Judd couldn’t erase the irritation that she was feeling. Something she hadn’t thought possible. There’d been no time to enjoy what he’d done to her. Heck, there’d been no time for her to do to him what he’d done to her. That’s because once again she was having to put out a fire caused by Lavinia.

  The woman was an emotional arsonist.

  “What did Lavinia do?” Cleo asked. She also got up, and with the phone sandwiched against her shoulder and ear, she started to dress.

  “I’m not sure, but the cop who called mentioned her name. I’ll get there as soon as I can arrange a sitter for Mandy Rose.”

  Cleo was about to tell Daisy to stay put and spend the rest of her day off with her little girl, that she would handle it, but she couldn’t. If the cops were involved, then as the legal owner, Daisy had to be involved, too.

  “I’ll leave now and should be there in under an hour,” Cleo assured her and ended the call.

  Judd was dressed when he came out of the bathroom. “Lavinia showed up at the bar and got in a fight with someone.” When he snatched up his keys and headed out the door, she followed him.

  Cleo suddenly had a string of questions pop into her head. “A fight? Who was Lavinia fighting? And why would the cops have called Daisy and you if the fight happened outside the bar? My God, did Lavinia break into the place?”

  Judd didn’t get a chance to answer any of that because when he threw open the door, Audrey was standing there. Her right hand was lifted as if she’d been about to knock, and she was balancing something on her left palm.

  A pie.

  Peach, judging from the color of the filling that was seeping through the golden-brown lattice-top crust. It looked perfect, like something made for a glossy food magazine.

  “Oh,” Audrey said, clearly startled that Judd and Cleo had nearly run right into her. Probably some of that startling was simply because Cleo was there—and was still buttoning her shirt. “Oh,” Audrey repeated, the disappointment and hurt sliding through her eyes.

  Cleo tried not to look as if she’d just had an orgasm, which wasn’t hard to do, what with the irritation she was feeling about Lavinia.

  “Audrey,” Judd greeted. He definitely didn’t have orgasm face. He was harried, annoyed and probably wondering why the heck his life had gone from pie offerings to mad dashes to San Antonio to deal with another of Cleo’s problems.

  “Uh, I can handle this by myself,” Cleo offered, fishing out her car keys from her purse, which she’d grabbed on the rush to the door.

  “No. I’ll go.” He looked at Audrey. “I’m sorry, but this is police business.”

  “Oh.” Audrey again, and this time there was some flirty hope in her voice. She was probably rationalizing that sex hadn’t just happened and that she still stood a chance with Judd. “Then I won’t keep you.” She thrust the pie at him—which was right in front of her boobs. In fact, for him to take the pie, his fingers just might graze a nipple or two.

  Maybe Rosy had been right about her culinary-relationship observations after all.

  “Thanks. I’ll have some later.” Judd snatched the pie from Audrey, put it on the foyer table and stepped out onto the porch. Since it seemed as if he wanted to say something else to Audrey, Cleo left them alone and went to her car.

  And Cleo cursed. Because this wasn’t a mere flitter of jealousy. It was a full-fledged smack of it upside the head.

  Thankfully, she had a crisis to divert her attention. Lavinia and whatever havoc she’d created. Still, Cleo’s attention drifted to the side mirror, where she had a perfectly framed view of Judd and Audrey. Judd was turned sideways, his legs apart as if ready to run, but he wasn’t running. And Audrey had her hand on his arm.

  For the first time in her life, Cleo wished she had lip-reading skills—and the ability to bake an in
credible pie.

  “Oh, God.” She realized the words had come from her. It wasn’t like the “oh, God” that she’d groaned out when Judd and she had been having sex. This one carried “pit of despair” emotion because it wasn’t just jealousy she was feeling for Judd. Nor was it just sex.

  She was falling in love with him.

  Well, wasn’t this just a kick in the teeth? Falling in love. With Judd. If she had to come up with a top-ten list of men who wouldn’t be able to commit, ever, who wouldn’t be able to love her in return, ever, he might not be at the very top, but his ranking would be pretty darn high.

  Judd finally hurried off the porch, leaving Audrey standing there, watching him. Maybe it was because of Cleo’s own self-revelation of falling in love, but she wondered if Audrey was feeling the same thing. If so, Audrey was one good catch, at least on paper, anyway, and since Judd wasn’t stupid, he might soon figure that out.

  The moment Judd was in the car with her, Cleo took off, hoping that Judd would launch into an explanation as to what Darrell had told him. He didn’t.

  “Stop the car,” Judd insisted.

  Cleo did because she was certain he had seen something wrong in maybe the pasture or the grounds. But once she’d stopped, he caught onto her chin and turned her to look at him. Their gazes collided, and it was as if he’d stripped away all layers and walls that separated the truth from what she wanted him to see.

  “Well, shit,” he mumbled.

  Cleo eyed him and stayed quiet because a “well, shit” could cover a multitude of sins, and it probably didn’t have anything to do with pie envy or falling for someone who was high on a hypothetical list.

  “I knew it,” he went on a moment later. “Having sex with me is messing with your head.”

  All right, so it did cover the falling for someone, but Cleo wasn’t going to jump headfirst into a conversation this deep right now. “Actually, it messed with my body, in a really good way.” She smiled, hoping it would cause him to do the same.

  It didn’t.

  And that’s when she knew that Judd would use every ounce of willpower he had not to touch her again.

  Part of her wanted to believe that was a good thing because of her bad showing on paper and because she was an emotional drain on him right now. She wasn’t fixing him prize-winning peach pies. She was dragging him into what would no doubt be another legal mess, one that might spill over to her other legal mess of the boys’ custody.

  “What’d Darrell tell you?” she asked and held her breath that he would indeed answer and not continue with details of why sex with him equaled head-messing.

  She kept her eyes on the road, but Cleo could feel him staring at her. Could hear the debate going on in his head, but he finally answered. “Lavinia didn’t break into the bar, but she was outside your place when she got into a fight. More of a shoving match,” Judd explained.

  It was hard for Cleo to muster up any sympathy for the woman or the person involved in the shoving match, but she had to shake her head. “Then why did the cops call Daisy?”

  “Because there was still some goop on the sidewalk from the cows, and Lavinia fell in the scuffle. She’s blaming you for not doing a proper cleanup, and she wants to sue.”

  Cleo groaned. Definitely no sympathy, not even if Lavinia was truly hurt. Which Cleo doubted she was.

  “The reason Daisy got called in was because there was some damage to the bar. Right before Lavinia fell, she pushed someone into the front window, and when it broke, it set off the security alarm.”

  None of this was good news, but Cleo relaxed a little. A window could be fixed, and if Lavinia sued, then she had insurance. But Judd wasn’t relaxing.

  “Harmon was the person who got involved in a shoving match with Lavinia,” Judd added. “The cops haven’t taken his statement yet because he’s getting stitched up in the ER. He got hit with flying glass when the window broke.”

  Cleo felt the next groan rumble in her chest. “Harmon was involved in this?”

  But she waved off any answer Judd might have given her and pressed the button on her steering wheel, then gave the voice command to make a call to Harmon. Several moments later, Harmon’s voice came pouring through her speakers.

  “Cleo, I was about to call you,” he said, and she didn’t think it was her imagination that he sounded cheerful. “I was just leaving the ER and am on my way to the police station. Did you hear what happened?”

  “I’d like to hear it from you,” Cleo insisted.

  “Yes, it’s better coming from me, anyway. You know how things can get skewed. When I drove past your bar, I saw the woman lurking in the alley again. The smoking one who doesn’t wear a bra.”

  “Why were you at the bar?” Cleo asked when Harmon paused.

  Silence. For a long time. “Because you used to catch up on paperwork on Sunday afternoons, and I thought you’d be there. Cleo, I needed to see you. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat—”

  “Tell me what happened between you and Lavinia,” Cleo interrupted. No groan this time but a huff because once again Harmon had been stalking her.

  “Well, like I said, I saw her hanging around the bar and figured she wasn’t supposed to be there so I stopped to make sure she wasn’t causing more trouble. I knew you’d thank me for that.”

  Well, she wasn’t thanking him just yet. “You got into a shoving match with her?”

  “No. Not a shoving match.” Now there was insult in his voice. “Sheez, Louise, Cleo, I’m a grown man. I don’t shove, but when I verbally confronted Lavinia about why she was there, she told me to mind my own business. Except she added a lot of curse words.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet she did. So, you didn’t push her back or hit her?” Cleo persisted.

  “No, but she knocked me into a window, and it broke. I have stitches, Cleo, and the nurse said I’d need pain meds, that I might need them for a couple of days.”

  Now, Cleo mustered up sympathy, though it was possible Harmon was exaggerating this. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”

  “Where’s Lavinia now?” That came from Judd, who clearly was in a no-sympathy kind of mood for this.

  “Is that the deputy?” Harmon asked.

  “It is,” Judd revealed. “Now answer my question.”

  Harmon didn’t. “Cleo, could you please tell the deputy to move away from the phone, that this is a private conversation between you and me?”

  Since she wanted to hear what Harmon had to say and because arguing with him could put him in a snit, one that would silence him, Cleo went with some deception. She gave Judd’s arm a nudge, moving him a fraction.

  “Okay, Judd moved,” Cleo told Harmon. “Now finish telling me about Lavinia.”

  “All right. Sure.” He sounded a little perky. “About the time she pushed me into the window, a cop showed up. I guess somebody called them when they heard Lavinia and me yelling. Anyway, they hauled her off and took me to the ER.”

  “So, Lavinia is still at the police station?”

  “Maybe. The cop said something about me needing to file charges against her for assault.” He paused again. “But I’m not sure that’s the way to go here, Cleo.”

  Cleo didn’t like the sound of that. Judging from Judd’s mumbled cursing, he didn’t, either.

  “What do you mean?” Cleo asked Harmon.

  “Well, while I was waiting to get stitched up, I had some time to think, and if I file charges against her, it might make Lavinia come after you and Miranda’s sons.”

  “She’s already coming after us,” Cleo pointed out.

  “Yes, but this could rile her so that she pushes even harder. I don’t think filing charges is the best way to go about it.” His next pause was long enough to have had an entire conversation, and she glanced at Judd to see how he was holding up.

  If his jaw muscles got any tighter, Ju
dd might crack some teeth.

  “I came up with an idea,” Harmon went on, “but just hear it all the way through before you say no.” She heard the deep breath he took. “I can become the foster father to Miranda’s sons. I have plenty of room, and they can live here. You could see them anytime you want. Anytime. Then you wouldn’t have to keep driving back and forth between the bar and Coldwater.”

  “No,” Cleo said, and she didn’t think about it as Harmon had asked. “This sounds like an excuse to try to get us back together.”

  Judd mumbled a barely audible “Damn right.”

  But Harmon put his own spin on that. “It’s what’s right for the boys.” Harmon said it so fast that it made her wonder if he’d rehearsed this part. “I co-own a reputable business, I’m comfortable with my finances and I don’t have a police record.”

  No record. Something that hadn’t been true for her since she was a teenager. Cleo had never regretted that more than right now.

  “Plus, the signs are here,” Harmon went on. “Even you can’t deny that.”

  “What signs?” Judd snapped.

  “Why is he listening again?” Harmon said angrily. “Well, it doesn’t matter,” he continued before Cleo or Judd could say anything. “He can hear this, too. There are signs that Cleo and I are supposed to get back together. It hasn’t rained in two weeks. Blood was spilled. And Cleo has experienced conflicted pleasure. I didn’t know what the last part meant, but I understand it now. She was conflicted about the boys but is now pleased that I’ll take them.”

  Judd gave her a blank stare.

  “Harmon visited a fortune-teller in Wrangler’s Creek, and she told him these things,” Cleo explained.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Harmon went on, talking right over her. “You’re dismissing her, but lots of people use psychics and fortune-tellers. But it’s not something I’d tell Child Protective Services. I just pointed out the signs to you so that you’d understand this is something that should happen.”

  Cleo took her own deep breath, ready to tell Harmon that no matter what a fortune-teller said, she wasn’t getting back together with him. But again, Harmon just kept on talking.