Broken Fences (A TroubleMaker Novel, #1) (12 page)

“Oh, uh…okay,”
Sissy stuttered, staring up at her fiancé through new eyes.

Dusty took
another swig of her beer.
So it’s settled, right?
Per Jimmy, tomorrow
Colden James would return to Odessa for the wedding just because he’d said he
would. She didn’t have the heart to tell Jimmy, or Sissy for that matter, that
Colden’s word meant junk. For when he had dropped her off and said he would
return so that they could “talk,” Dusty had sat on the sofa like a fool and
waited for him. A few hours had soon taken her to dawn. She’d gone into a
laughing fit for being foolish enough to think he would actually come back, and
then she’d finally fallen asleep.

It was six years
ago all over again. They’d had sex, and he’d disappeared the next day, leaving
her brokenhearted again. The only difference was that this time, the bastard
didn’t even bother to mend her broken fence.

Chapter
Twelve

Anxious about
whether or not Colden was going to show up, Dusty hadn’t gotten much sleep the
night before. She had a glass of milk, then a few glasses of wine. She took a
warm bath, and when that didn’t work, she got into bed and started to count
sheep, though she never made it past the first one or two, because her mind
wandered to the sheep she’d seen at Mr. McAllister’s a week after she and
Colden had broken the old man’s fence. That one sheep was out in McAllister’s
pasture all by its lonesome, baaing away. She could still remember standing
there feeling just as lonely as that dumb, woolly animal. For the first time
since Colden had left, she had allowed herself to cry. She’d made a promise to
herself that day that she’d never allow Colden James or any other guy to make
her cry again. No matter how bad he’d hurt her, Dusty had held true to that
promise. She hadn’t shed a tear for the Saint, although she’d come mighty close
to it the night before.

Dusty locked the
door behind her after she entered the bar. She was there early to set up for
the after-hours party. The ceremony and reception would be held at the opera
house, but it closed at eleven. Afterward, Jimmy and Sissy wanted to keep the
party going at The Buckling Barrel.

She’d finished
counting the beer bottles and was working on the liquor when she lost her
count, startled by the hammering on the door. “Shit!” She hit the clipboard on
her thigh and glanced up at the clock. It was far too early for Travis or any
of the other delivery guys. Whoever it was, she hoped if she ignored the
knocking, they’d go away.

Instead, the banging
grew louder.

Really not in
the mood to deal with whoever it was, she stomped over to the door, tipped up
on her toes, and looked out the small window. Green eyes shot through the glass
and touched her entire body.

 “Shit!” she
repeated, then slapped the clipboard on her thigh again. “Damn it.” She dropped
down from her toes and slumped against the door.

Her heart was
about to beat right out of her chest. “It’s okay. You got this, Dusty girl,”
she tried to convince herself as she jumped back up to steal another peek out
the window.

Colden was
dressed in a plain white t-shirt and dark jeans, and his hair had that flyaway,
bed-head look.

“Damn it! Why
does he have to look so…good?” She fell away from the window. “Okay.” She shook
her head and took a few breaths. “Just open that door and tell that Colden
James just where the hell he can go with that sexy body and heartbreaking smile
of his.” She unlocked the deadbolt and placed her hand on the knob. “You can
and will do this. You’re a strong, independent woman.” After she was through
with her little pep talk, she yanked the door open and immediately spat, “What
the hell do you—”

But she never
got the chance to finish her sentence. Colden grabbed her behind the neck,
pulled her to him, bent his head, and kissed her.

All thoughts of
dismissing the man immediately took flight away from her independent-woman
head. She dropped the clipboard, jumped up and threw her arms and legs around
him, and deepened the mind-altering kiss.

With their lips
locked and their tongues frolicking, Colden took a few steps into the bar and
kicked the door closed. “Are you alone?” he got out between kisses, locking the
door behind him.

“Yes,” she
breathed into his mouth.

“Good.” He
carried her over to the pool table and set her ass on the edge of it. Wedging a
hand between her thighs, he glided past her shorts and panties.

When a thick
finger entered her slick wetness, she let out a whimper.

“Damn, girl.” He
looked down at her with that wicked James smile. “Are you always ready and
waiting for me?”

Far too gone,
captivated by the heat in his eyes, overtaken by his touch, she didn’t bother
to defend herself. He had her ready within seconds, and she was indeed waiting,
if not wanting. He bit down on his lower lip, wiping away the naughty smile.
The action pulled her hips toward him.

Holding her eyes
to his, Colden unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper. “That’s good,
‘cause I’m ready too.” He took her hand and lowered it to his waist. “Touch me,
Dusty girl. I’ve waited too long already.”

No further
invitation was necessary. Dusty reached into his pants, wrapped all five digits
around his thickness, and freed his full, throbbing erection with a tug. She
sheathed him with her hand, moving up and down over Colden’s straining
masculinity.

“Sweet Jesus!”

He gripped the
edge of the pool table and tossed his head back. The veins in his neck
thickened. The intensity of his strained posture excited and encouraged her. A
few strokes later, his head lifted. Heat glowed all around his large, manly
form, and the scent of sex filled the room. His hand slipped back between her
legs, finding the damp, moist, needy part of her. He played with her there as
the heat radiating from his body reached up to somewhere low in her belly. She
squeezed the aroused flesh in her hand. It pulsated, and the reaction wrenched
a cry from her.

Forget about the
past few days, she needed him inside of her right then.

“Dusty…”

The low, husky
whisper jolted her head up, and Colden’s eyes were waiting for her.

“I’ve missed
you, my pretty girl.”

She wasn’t sure
how to respond, not entirely ready to surrender to the man who’d made it a
habit of breaking her heart. Secretly, she had missed him, and—hot damn—her
body undeniably needed him too. “I-I, uh…”

“It’s okay.” He
stopped her struggle with one feathery kiss. “I know.” He tilted his head to
the side. “You hate me,” he smoothly teased with a smile, “but I’m gonna try to
persuade you otherwise by pulling your panties to the side and slipping my cock
deep inside you.”

His bold words
gave her a mini-heart attack. “You…” A panting spell threatened, but she
quickly recovered. “You think that’ll work?” she tried to tease back,
clandestinely begging for his follow-through. Her thighs clenched, and her
clitoris peaked against his touch. She had never needed or wanted anything so
bad in her entire life.

“Yes, my pretty
girl, it’ll work,” he hummed just over her mouth. “I’m gonna fuck you so good.
I’m gonna fuck you so hard . And, one way or another, I’m gonna get rid of all
that hate too.”

Squeezing her
legs around his waist, she arched her
back and closed her eyes.
Yes!
Oh yes. Do it! Do it now!
She was sure Colden didn’t love her, but there
was still a definite sexual attraction between them that desired to be fed. Furthermore,
in that moment, Dusty wasn’t thinking about love.
She just needed him
inside of her, and she needed it right then and there.

“But first…”

When he paused,
her subconscious bitch-slapped her. Dusty’s eyes shot open.
What did he just
say?
Then it registered. “Oh no!” Her body went still. He was trying to set
stipulations before he fucked her. “No buts! You take me right here, right now,
so
good and
so
hard, just like you said, St. James!”

“
First…
”
he bantered, ignoring her appeal.

She scowled, and
under her breath, she hissed a barely audible, “God, I hate you.”

“Oh, c’mon.” His
eyes twinkled at her temper. “It’s not that bad. It’s easy really. Before I
take care of that hate, you must agree to let me pick you up for the wedding.”

That’s it?
Hell, I can do that.
“Fine. Okay. Whatever.” She would have agreed to
anything to get him where he belonged, right between her legs.

“I like when
you’re a good girl.” He tapped her thighs. “Now, drop your feet back to the
ground.”

“But you said—”

“Just do it,” he
ordered in a tone that offered no room for an argument.

Her legs slipped
from around his waist until her feet hit the floor.

“Turn around.”

Her hands fell
from his neck, and she looked at him hesitantly.

He circled his
finger. “Around.”

She huffed and
twirled until her back was to him. “There,” she sassed.

“Good girl.”

The heat from
his breath branded her left ear just before he yanked her shorts and panties
from her body. She felt the palm of his large hand on her back.

“Spread your
legs wide,” he commanded as he pushed her forward.

Her chest hit
the top of the pool table. Naked from the waist down, she stretched her legs
apart. The wetness nestled between her thighs hit the cool air, and her insides
blazed with need.

“Perfect.” His
hand moved from her back, down and over her bare ass. “You are perfect.”

Weakened by his
touch, by the praise, she dropped her shoulders. Her face nearly fell to the
green felt, and she released an awkward whimper. Until Colden, she hadn’t known
that she could whimper.

He leaned over
her, pulled her hair back, and kissed her on the cheek. “Time to get rid of all
that hate, pretty girl.” He placed both of her hands behind her back and held
them there.

She raised her
head and looked over her shoulder. Colden stood to the side, gazing at her
naked backside. The hungry look aimed at her bare ass made her nervous.
“Wh-what are you doing?”

“I’m deciding
which cheek I wanna hit first.”

“Hit?”
Wow!
She jerked her shoulders and tried to pull her hands free, but he held her strong.

He turned and
looked at her, instantly silencing her by the dominance shining in his eyes,
the dark part of him she’d always been attracted to. “Didn’t I tell you?” he
said with a naughty smile. “I plan to beat all that hate out of you.”

Watching his
hand lift, her body tensed. Like two striking fingers, reality snapped her from
his control. “You’ll do no such—”

Smack!

His hand made
contact with her skin. The heat between her legs, the heat penetrating from
Colden, all that hotness, soared to the spot where his hand had made contact,
sparking a fire deep within. Another hard slap landed on her other cheek. The
sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the bar. Again, a surge of heat filled
her entire body.

“Colden!”

He gently
skimmed the tips of his fingers over her sore bottom. “Dusty…” he said,
practically humming her name.

She rolled her
hips. “Oh my God!” The light touch of his fingers over her ass curled the ache
deeper into her womb. She arched, pushing her backside up in the air, wanting
more.

Colden’s large
hand slid between her thighs, and deft fingers brushed over her clitoris.

Her hips rolled,
begging for him to continue.

“I’m gonna spank
you till you beg me to fill you here.” He thrust what felt like two fingers
inside of her, a move that ripped another whimper from her trembling lips.
“I’ll slap that perfect ass of yours until you tell me the hate is gone, till
the only thing you feel…” He pulled his fingers out, then pushed them back in.
“…until all you need is me.”

“Colden!” She
bit her lip when he slapped her hard across the ass again. “Oh! Hell, I’m
already there,” she said, gasping for air. “Colden,” she said, surrendering.
“I’m there. All I need is you, Colden. Please!”

With both hands,
he grabbed her by the hips. “Then you shall have all of me,” he said, and
entered her fully in one deep thrust.

Dusty didn’t
whimper or cry. She screamed, screamed out loudly in utter bliss.

With one hand
still holding her arms behind her back, he reached around her waist and pulled
her close. He started to take her. He took her so good. He took her so hard. He
took her again and again against that pool table…

He took her
until she hated him no more.

Chapter
Thirteen

With her
God-awful bridesmaid’s dress in hand, Dusty dashed into the opera house an hour
earlier than scheduled. She had to get out of her house before Colden picked
her up for the wedding. She couldn’t have cared less about breaking the promise
she’d made to him, especially since it was one made in the throes of passion.
The way she saw it, she owed him one for not showing up when they’d gotten back
into town after he’d kidnapped her.
An eye for an eye.
Now, if only she
could rip his heart out of his chest and stomp on it a few times, as he had
hers, the score would be truly settled.

There were a few
people scurrying around the place, trying to get everything set up. She waved a
hello to Mrs. James. The woman always looked great, so it was fitting that she
was the dictator of the flowers and decorations, a job she’d claimed early on
in the engagement. Dusty was thankful for that because she had no eye for
things of such nature. She would have had no trouble finding a place for a
ten-foot beer poster or a neon sign, but she had no idea where to put topiaries
and lace.

Holding a
bouquet of white lilies in her hand, Mrs. James pointed. “Sissy’s already here,
hon’. She’s in the back, getting ready.”

Dusty smiled.
“Thanks.”

As she
maneuvered through the place in the direction Colden’s mother had indicated,
the back door suddenly swung open, and out came trouble. Luke O’Conner, better
known as “Lucky,” Sissy’s older half-brother, was a force to be reckoned with.

Dusty smiled,
well aware that under the crisp, white dress shirt and simple black tie there
were over six feet of flesh-covered tattoos. Just a few months ago, his head
had been shaved for a new skull tattoo, but it had all grown back. It was now a
short, fashionable length, though still unruly, thick and dark brown, with a
hint of that Irish coppery tint. With a full head of hair, or even bald, he was
a handsome guy. His eyes were a brilliant blue-hazel mix, and when he smiled,
they twinkled. With nothing more than a fleeting glance, the boy could break a
roomful of hearts. Of course, he wasn’t really a boy anymore. Somehow, he’d crept
into his early thirties.

Dusty hadn’t
seen him since a few months earlier, when, at the beckoning of Aunt Lulu all of
the cousins had gotten together. It was the last time she’d seen Lucky’s twin
brother too. Fallon wasn’t as lucky as his brother, who had earned his nickname
by escaping many brushes with death. Fallon’s wife had died five years earlier,
and he’d taken it real hard, isolating himself to his sailboat. Everyone had
been surprised to see him at Aunt Lulu’s. He’d sat quietly in the background
during the family meeting, and after their beloved aunt informed them of her
terminal illness, Fallon had gotten up and walked over to her. All of them had
watched with bated breath as Aunt Lulu whispered something in his ear just
before he kissed her on the forehead and left.

As Dusty thought
through that memory, she realized she was sure going to miss their yearly
get-together at Aunt Lulu’s. She doubted she’d ever set eyes on Fallon again.
The impending loss stirred in her belly, and her walk turned into a gallop
until she made it into Lucky’s big arms.

He hugged her,
lifting her feet off the ground in a spin. “Hey Dust’!”

“I’m so glad you
could make it,” she said as he gently lowered her back down on her feet.

He tapped her
once on the nose, making her feel ten years old again. “Of course I did. I
wouldn’t miss my wee little sister’s wedding.”

“What about
Fallon?”

He grimaced.
“Nah, he ain’t ready.” He shrugged. “Hey, Jessina’s comin’ and bringing her new
hubby, though.”

“Oh good!” She
gave him an impish grin. “Did you hear that story?”

“I sure did.” He
chuckled, cramming a hand in his front pocket. “I talked to her though. She
says she’s in love.” He shook his head. “Ya know what they say. There’s no cure
for love other than marriage. I guess it don’t matter how it happened, so long
as she’s happy. “

“At least she
got out of all this.” She waved to the flowers and decorations as if they
annoyed her, though she had to admit they did look beautiful.

“So how ‘bout
you, Dust’? You in need of a cure for the loves?” He wiggled his eyebrows
teasingly. “Roped yourself a cowboy yet?”

Dismissing every
thought of Colden that had popped into her head, she laughed. “If you’re
talking about love and marriage, the only thing I’ll ever be married to is The
Bucking Barrel. What about you? Any gals getting Lucky lately?” she asked,
quick to divert the attention back to him, knowing full well that he was a
committed bachelor.

“No girl will
ever get
this
Lucky.” He pointed to himself while wearing a wolfish grin
and then tilted his head upward. “Hey!” He squinted. “Is that Colden James?”

Hearing his name
made everything from her neck down want to drop to the floor. Just to hold the
garment bag in her hand, she had to concentrate. She glanced over her shoulder
and saw that Colden was heading straight for them. The look on his face broke
her concentration. Like everything inside of her, the bag dropped to the floor.

* * * * *

When the
airplane wheels had touched down, the first place Colden had gone was to
Dusty’s house. When he couldn’t find her there, he’d set out for the bar. He
wanted to explain why he’d left her yet again, but the second she’d opened the
door, he’d instantly realized that all the whys in the world didn’t matter. All
he cared about was being inside of her—heart, body, and soul. He’d certainly
succeeded at the body part, even if he wasn’t sure about the rest.

He planned to
work on her soul and her heart when he picked her up for the wedding. He’d even
gone an hour early to get her so they’d have time to talk on the way, only to
discover that he’d been stood up. He should have known better. After all, he
had hurt her really bad, all over again.

As he stormed
into the opera house, his mother tried to stop him, but he brushed by her when
he caught sight of Dusty in the back. Some guy was standing in front of her,
too close for Colden’s comfort. An inferno ignited deep within and began to
burn with a dangerous heat. It was the same feeling he’d experienced at the bar
when he’d seen that hulking beer delivery guy grab Dusty, the same feeling that
had overtaken him the night Dusty had flaunted that sleazebag Britt Weber in
front of Colden’s face. Still, he had a real difficult time recognizing it for
what it was— jealousy.

“Colden!” his
mother called after him, but the building fury inside pressed him onward.

When his eyes
adjusted to the dim light and he recognized that it was only Dusty’s cousin,
Colden’s inner gladiator lowered his wielding sword.

“James,” Dusty’s
cousin greeted him with a curt nod.

Colden glanced
over at the guy, trying to remember his name.
O’Conner? Luke? Yeah, that’s
it, but doesn’t everyone call him something else? Hmm…Lucky!
At that
moment, the man was most certainly lucky, had he not been related to Dusty, Colden
would have had a real problem with him being so close to his girl. “Luke,”
Colden returned, not comfortable calling the guy by his nickname. He glanced at
a muted Dusty. Owning her nervous eyes, Colden bent down to pick up the bag on
the floor. “Sorry,” he said as she anxiously followed his every move. “I musta
been late picking you up.” He handed her the bag, wearing a small smile.

She snatched the
bag from his hand. “You weren’t…” she started but then trailed off, quickly
catching on. She pushed a few fallen strands of hair behind her ear and looked
away.

The anger in her
words resonated in his ears, but it was the hurt in her eyes that shattered his
heart. He reached out and cradled her face in his hands, gently turning her
head until their eyes met. “I really am sorry, sweetheart.” He leaned, only
meaning to brush his mouth over hers, but when they made contact and he melted
into those warm lips, he couldn’t pull back.

“Colden Saint
James!” The call of his full given name and the smack on his shoulder by a
bundle of flowers jolted him back to reality. “Let the poor girl come up for
air, son. You two’ve got a bride and groom to tend to!”

Colden turned to
his left and saw his mother standing there, holding a bouquet, fully prepared
to give him another full floral whack if he didn’t do as she said. She really
didn’t seem to care about the kiss, unlike Lucky Luke, whose right eyebrow had
lifted curiously. Then again, Colden’s mother never questioned things. She just
moved along with life’s ebb and flow, adjusting and adapting where necessary.
At that moment, she wanted Colden to tend to his younger brother.

“Yes, Mother,”
he said, trying to pacify her.

She tapped her
hand on her watch, the flowers flapping with the motion. “Need I remind you
that you’re supposed to pick him up from the house in twenty minutes?”

“I just need—”

His mother’s
finger shot up, silencing him.

He dropped his
hands from Dusty face, and the corner of Dusty’s mouth quirked as she tried to
stifle a laugh. He looked at the two women and had to accept that one or both
of them could easily put him in his place.

“I’ll go get
him, Mrs. James,” O’Conner intervened. “I’d like to have a few words with my
soon-to-be brother-in-law anyway,” he said, wearing a crafty grin. Colden
couldn’t blame him, if he’d had a sister, he probably would have been the same
way.

His mother
looked at Luke for a few hard seconds. “Okay.” She pointed the flowers at him.
“Just be sure to leave within the next five minutes.” She smiled politely at
all of them then walked away and went right back to barking orders at all her
little helpers.

The awkwardness
lingered in the air like a day-old onion in the trash, and Luke must have
gotten a good whiff of it. His nostrils flared as his eyes toggled between
Colden and Dusty. The lopsided grin now pinched both corners of his mouth. “So,
James, what have you been up to?”

Colden ran a
hand through his hair and turned to face him. He wasn’t really in the mood for
small talk, but he was willing to put up with it if it would allow him to be
alone with Dusty sooner. The sooner O’Conner got through the chitchat and went
to pick Jimmy up, the better. “I’ve been working for the ATF in Georgia.” He
ignored Dusty’s eye-roll at the partial lie.

“No shit?” Luke
murmured, his attention moving to Colden’s neck. “I see you got some ink too.”

Colden’s hand
slid from his hair to his neck; the past few days of stress had had him rubbing
it. “Yeah.” He sighed. “Hey, don’t you own a tattoo shop?”

“Yeah, a couple
of ‘em. Gonna be opening a few more too. Why? You lookin’ for some more
artwork?”

“I think so, but
my guy’s kinda tied up right now and probably will be for a while. He was
working on this sort of tree design on my back, and I need one more branch
added for it to be complete.” Although Riggs had done the entire tattoo, Colden
knew he’d never be the one to finish that last branch, which would only be put
on once he was caught. Now that he was locked up, it was time for Colden’s
work-in-progress to be completed.

“Sure. I’ll take
a look at it and see what I can do.” He pulled out his wallet, rifled through
it, and handed Colden a business card. “Just gimme a call when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, man.”
Colden slipped the card in his pocket. “Now I’m afraid I’m gonna have to steal
your cousin for a bit. She owes me a few minutes of her time.”

“I don’t owe you
a damn thing,” Dusty snapped.

He reached his
hand out to Dusty, overlooking another curious eyebrow lift from O’Conner.
“Look,” Colden said, causing her eyes to flash to his, “you can take my hand
and come willingly, or I can pick you up and carry your ass out of here. Either
way, you and I are gonna have a little talk.”

 “Hey, cuz,”
O’Conner said, seemingly concerned.

Colden shot him
a warning look, but the guy wasn’t paying any attention to him and was grinning
at Dusty.

“Ya sure you
ain’t in need of that cure after all?”

Colden wasn’t
sure what he meant by the odd comment, but O’Conner’s smart-ass grin only
seemed to irritate Dusty further.

“Screw you,
Lucky!” She pushed Colden’s hand away. “C’mon, but I’ve gotta check on Sissy
before we talk.”

O’Conner
grimaced and shrugged. “Just don’t drown, cuz.”

“Huh?” Dusty
said, her face red with rage.

“You’re clearly
in denial,” he said, laughing at his own play on words. “Just don’t drown in it!”
He tapped Colden on the shoulder as he walked away. “Good luck, man.”

Dusty stomped
off with Colden right behind her. She’d hoped to escape Colden by leaving the
house earlier, but at the very best, she’d only escaped being alone with the
man when there was a bed on the premises. The balcony in the opera house
quickly came to mind.

“Ouch,” Sissy
hissed when Dusty pulled on her hair too tight.

“Sorry,” she
mumbled as she tried to get it together long enough to help a nervous bride
with her hair, dress, and makeup. She tried to avoid thinking about the man who
was waiting just outside the door for her, and she kept reminding herself that
it didn’t matter what he had to say. She refused to fall for the Saint.
Never,
ever again!
It was a whole lot safer and a little less painful to just love
him from afar. Shit, she’d been doing that for six years, and she could do it
for a lifetime if she had to. It hurt too much to believe or to even hope that
they could ever be together. Then again, she couldn’t say that hurt more than
knowing he didn’t care about her.

Really, the
reminders that she should just let him go had begun the moment Colden had
entered the opera house looking sexy as hell in that tuxedo, his hair wild as
ever and his green eyes almost exploding with intensity. When he’d grabbed her
face and kissed her, it had been gentle, even savory. She’d had to remind
herself then not to fall for the Saint, had to tell herself that the Saint was
no more. Colden James was a new man—a clever, arrogant, sweet-talker with a big
heart and a rock-hard body that she simply couldn’t stop breaking herself
against. She was beaten and tired.