Red-Hot Texas Nights (19 page)

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You know what I think? I think,” he said, stepping toward her, “you're pushing me away on purpose because you're scared.”

“There goes that word again.” She gathered her courage and focused every last ounce on holding her ground. Last night she'd given herself every reason why she needed to cut all ties, namely the sex was starting to interfere with her daily life.

Her business.

She was thinking about him too much when she should be focusing on work. That, and she was falling for him.

Really and truly falling to the point that she saw his face when she closed her eyes instead of visions of specialty cakes and pies.

“Walking away doesn't mean I'm scared,” she heard herself say. “It means I've got other things on my plate. Things that are a lot more important than sex.”

“All the more reason to see this through now.” He stared at her, his eyes bright and mesmerizing. His lips hinted at the faintest of grins and his gaze dropped, peeling away her clothes and caressing every bare inch. “I'll be gone soon enough. We might as well make the most of the time we have left. Then you can get to all of those other things on your plate without any distractions.”

Her skin tingled and her heart stalled.

Bad heart.

She tried for a disinterested shrug. “I'm not distracted now. I know you hate to hear this, but I'm just not that interested anymore.”

“You don't have to be afraid.”

“For the last time, I'm not afraid of you.”

“Not me, sugar.” He leaned over the counter, his hand brushing hers as he reached for the bakery box. “Us.” The word trembled in the air between them, his fingers soft and warm against hers.

She swallowed and managed to pull away and shift her attention to the cash register. “There is no
us
.”

“We're good together.”

“We
were
good together. I was horny. You were horny. I'm no longer horny. So that's the end of it. Look, if you're looking for more, that's great. I'm sure you can find any number of girls ready and willing to spend time with you—”

“I'm not talking about spending time. I'm talking about burning up some energy. Some lust. I'm not looking for a relationship.” He ran a hand over his face, and she noted the weariness around his eyes. Something tugged at her heart. “I'm looking for my brother and I'm having shitty luck finding him. The wait,” he ran a hand through his hair, “the wait is killing me. I need a distraction, Brandy. I need you.”

“So I'm a distraction to you? That's it?” The notion sent a rush of regret through her, followed by a wave of relief. Because that's all she wanted to be when it came to Tyler McCall.

At least that's what she was desperately telling herself.

“You help me work out my frustration, which helps me focus. And sleep. I know it sounds crazy, but you don't know how worked up I've been. I haven't slept a solid three hours in weeks.” He ran a hand over his face and she noted the weary light in his eyes. “I'm stuck here for the next few days and while I am, I need to train or I can kiss my next rodeo good-bye.” He shook his head. “I have to hold it together. That means I need a distraction from worrying about Cooper every damn night.” His gaze locked with hers. “You were sleeping pretty soundly, too, when I ducked out.”

“About that,” she started. “You could have left a note or something.”

“Worried about me?”

“Afraid that I was going to have to find a replacement after I've put so much time and effort into training you for the job.”

He grinned, the expression slow and wicked, and her heart gave a double thump. “Good to hear that I'm not so easily replaced.”

“I didn't say that. I just said I don't want to have to train.” Another grin and her chest tightened. “Listen, why are we doing this? If you just need to hook up, so be it.” She motioned to the table of women. “Take your pick.”

“Sure thing.” He took her arm and joined her behind the counter.

“What are you doing—” she started, the words drowning in the lump in her throat as he hauled her up against him.

“I pick you.”

She stared up at him, wishing he wasn't so tall, so handsome, so … close. “I'm not ripe for picking.”

His eyes darkened and she realized she'd said the wrong thing … or the right thing depending on the part of her doing the thinking. From the heat pooling between her legs, she'd bet money it wasn't her head.

“I'd say you're plenty ripe, sugar.” His thumb grazed the side of her breast, and her nipple throbbed to awareness. “Ripe
and
juicy, and damn near ready to burst.”

“That's not what I meant.” She fought for an extra breath to send a much-needed jolt of oxygen to her brain. “From what I've seen, there are plenty of women in this town who wouldn't mind being your distraction.”

“That's where you're wrong. The women in this town don't give a lick about distracting me. They'd rather wife me up, and I'm not here for that. This is a small town, sugar. The local girls aren't thinking about having a good time. They're more worried about what time you're going to call them tomorrow. And whether or not you're going to ask them to the church picnic. And when you're going to order the ring and pick out the crystal.” He shook his head. “To hell with that. I'm more a red Solo cup kind of guy. Always have been. Always will be.”

“I'm sure there's a nice girl—”

“I don't want a nice girl. I want you, Brandy. And you want me. For now. That's why this works. We both know what's going to happen and what isn't.”

And that was the problem in a nutshell. She knew. She just wasn't so sure she liked that truth so much anymore.

The notion struck and she stiffened. The last thing she wanted was a relationship, even if she was falling for him a little. All the more reason to say good-bye, which she would most definitely do.

But it didn't have to be now.

“I'm not the least bit interested in an actual relationship and neither are you,” he went on. “It's a match made in heaven. Like peanut butter and chocolate. Strawberries and whipped cream.” He quoted her favorite cake flavors from the menu hanging overhead. “Coconut and vanilla.”

“Cookies and cream,” she murmured—the next selection—her gaze meeting his. “You're serious about this, aren't you?”

He didn't answer. Instead, he dipped his head and kissed her smack-dab in the middle of her lunch rush, with her bakery brimming with customers. Not quite as many as usual. Not with the doughnut shop cranking out new flavors every five seconds. But still … there were people.

His hand cupped her cheek, shattering her thoughts. His other palm splayed along her rib cage just inches shy of her right breast, his fingers searing through the fabric of her blouse. His mouth nibbled at hers. His tongue slid wet and wicked along her bottom lip before dipping inside to stroke and tease and take her breath away.

Now, this … this was the reason she should turn and walk away right now. Because despite the audience, she was this close to sliding her arms around his neck and begging for more than a kiss.

Because she was every bit the bad girl the entire town thought her to be.

The thought rooted as his fingers crept an inch higher, closer to her aching nipple, which bolted to attention, eager for a touch, a stroke, something—anything.

His fingers stopped inches shy, but his mouth kept moving, his tongue stroking, lips eating, hungry … so hungry. His intent was pure sin, and Brandy couldn't help herself; a moan vibrated up her throat.

He caught the sound, deepening the kiss for a delicious moment that made her stomach jump and her thighs quiver, and left no doubt as to the power of the chemistry between them.

“I really do have a lot of work to do,” she said, trying one last time to preserve her sanity when he finally pulled away, leaving her dazed and trembling.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “So do I, but none of it's getting done until we take care of business.” His words made her shake and quiver all the more.

Shaking? Quivering? Over some cowboy?

This
cowboy, a voice whispered, that same voice that had warned her off him the minute she'd seen him standing in the doorway. The voice that had urged her to cut and run when he'd approached her counter.

At the same time, it wasn't like Tyler had set up shop in Rebel permanently. It was a few days more, maybe a week at most—just until he located his brother and talked some sense into him. Then he was back on the road, out of her life, her thoughts.

“I guess it would be foolish to put a stop to something that seems to be working for the both of us.”

“We spend the nights together. We have sex. We sleep. That's it.”

“And then you go your way and I go mine?”

“That's the plan.”

“Hasn't it always been?” Her gaze locked with his and her heartbeat kicked up a notch as he nodded and she added, “Okay. But on one condition. You help me find my mash.”

“I think that ship might have sailed.”

“Maybe, but I've still got two days. It's not over until it's over.”

 

CHAPTER 25

“What can I do for you?” Brandy asked Betty later that afternoon, after a lunch hour spent casing Gator Hallsey's most recent hangout. The man hadn't come in again and the bartender had no information, and so Brandy was no better off. The only thing keeping her spirits ups was her plan to keep seeing Tyler.

Crazy, but there it was.

“Muffin?” she added, motioning to the freshly baked goodies on the top shelf.

“That would be delightful, sugar.” The old woman rummaged in her purse for her wallet. “And give me some of that Earl Grey tea you mixed up the other day. It did wonders for my stomach. 'Course, a shot of something a little stronger would be better, but then I'm not as young as I used to be, am I?” Betty smiled, her face breaking into a mass of wrinkles. “That's what you ought to start working on instead of another cake. You ought to whip up some shine that don't tear up my stomach. Told my grandson that just the other day, bragged about how good your granddaddy's stuff used to be and how you were a chip off the old block.”

“Moonshine isn't my specialty.” Not anymore. Not now that her shine was missing and the chances of her finding it in time to run it and come up with a viable product before her meeting on Friday with Mark, were slim to none.

Maybe Tyler was right.

The notion was too depressing and so she tried for a smile. “Honey butter to go with the muffin?”

“Told Mitchell I ought to try my hand at making my own moonshine,” Betty went on. “But he waved me off like he always does. Don't get old, sugar. Nobody takes you seriously anymore.”

“You thinking about brewing up some shine?”

“Why not? It ain't like I ain't tasted my fair share. I bet I could come up with something. Then again, I'm too old to go to the pokey. Hear tell, Sheriff DeMassi's closing in on all the moonshiners in this area. Did you hear about that big arrest out at the Sawyer place? The one where they took down Big Jimmy? Heard about it from my Mitchell, who said he saw with his own two eyes when they hauled the guy in. It was ugly. Pure ugly. And just for a little cooking.”

“That's because it's illegal.”

“Horse shit. It's the government, I tell you. Always trying to tell us what to do. Why, I'm of a mind to run some shine just to show them there are still some red-blooded Americans left who ain't afraid to exercise their God-given rights.”

“I don't think running shine is mentioned in the Constitution.”

“Me, either.” The deep voice sounded and Brandy's head snapped up to see Sheriff DeMassi standing at the counter.

“Sheriff,” Betty said, her spine instantly straighter. “I was just talking here about God and country.”

“I heard, but I doubt the big guy would condone breaking the law. Contrary to what a lot of folks think, running shine
is
illegal and any parties caught participating will be tried according to the law.”

“Law schmaw,” Betty snapped. “Why, it's a shame what this world's come to where an old woman can't say what she wants without an officer of the law stalking her.”

“I'm not stalking you.”

“You were just at the Quick Stop and so was I.”

“That's because I was picking up a newspaper and you were buying panty hose.”

“Ah, hah. You
were
stalking me. Otherwise you would never know that I was buying panty hose.”

“You were standing in front of me in line, Miss Betty. You argued with the clerk about a different brand. I couldn't help but notice.”

“Right.” She slid a glance to Brandy. “I'd watch my step around him if I were you. He's liable to haul you in.”

“I only do that with criminals, ma'am.”

“My point exactly.” She gave Brandy another glance before grabbing her muffin and heading for a nearby table.

“So what can I do you for, Sheriff? I've got fresh apple bread.”

“I'm afraid I'm not here on break.”

Anxiety rushed through her and she thought of the missing mash. Had the sheriff gotten wind of it and confiscated it? And now he was here to arrest her?

“Big Jimmy is being transferred to Huntsville Prison on eight counts of making illegal alcohol and tax evasion.”

“That's good.”

“Is it? Because I just keeping thinking he knows something and now that they're transferring him out, I'm not going to get another chance to find out what that is.”

“Maybe it's just what the Feds say. Grandpa paid Jimmy a visit. Threatened him. It could be that simple.”