Red-Hot Texas Nights (28 page)

His aqua-blue eyes glittered back at her, bright and hot and mesmerizing. “You're really something, you know that?”

“I…” She swallowed. “You shouldn't be in here.”

“Maybe I shouldn't, but I couldn't help myself. I can't stop thinking about you and that photographer your sister tried to set you up with. You can't go out with him.”

She hadn't meant to tell him, but the subject of Callie and the wedding had come up over pancakes and, well, she'd needed to talk to someone. Especially since she was dreading the blind date.

“Says who?” she countered.

“Please don't go out with him.” He shook his head, a strange light glimmering in his gaze. “When I think about the two of you … about him touching you.” His hand slid around her waist and trailed down her abdomen to her panties. His fingers skimmed the pink silk triangle covering her sex. “About him touching you
here
—” His voice caught. “It's driving me crazy.”

“I…” she started, but his intimate touch stalled her frantic thoughts before she could come up with something coherent. Reason fled in the face of so much sensation, and the only thing she could do was feel.

His fingertips burning through the thin material of her panties. His hard pelvis pressed against her buttocks. His strong arms surrounding her. His warm breath ruffling the hair at her temple.

“You're mine, Brandy. You've always been mine.”

“You're leaving,” she pointed out. “Cooper got on the bus this morning. Duff told Ellie.”

“It doesn't change anything. I still don't want you to see anybody else.”

Because he loved her? Because he wanted her?

The questions rolled through her head and she waited, her breath stalled, to hear the words.

Not that it would matter.

That's what she told herself.

“I love you, Brandy. I don't know what the hell to do about it. I just know that I always have and I always will,” he murmured once more and then he walked away.

It doesn't matter.

She repeated the mantra to herself, but as he walked away, she couldn't shake the crazy rush of joy that went through her, followed by an emptiness so profound that Brandy found herself blinking frantically when Callie and Jenna threw open the curtain and walked in from the opposite room.

Because it did matter.

“What's wrong with you?”

Brandy sniffled and shook her head and did the only thing she could—she played off her rush of emotion as dress-inspired. “It's just so beautiful,” she cried, motioning to the latest disaster.

Callie smiled as Jenna fought back a look of horror. “I think we've got ourselves a winner.”

 

CHAPTER 37

I love you.

The words echoed through Brandy's head throughout Tuesday morning, taunting her as she tried to concentrate on pulling a batch of blueberry muffins from the oven. She had to get back on track and forget all about Tyler and the fact that he loved her.

Just where did he get off loving her? He wasn't supposed to love her and she wasn't supposed to love him.

Her heart pounded double time and tears burned the backs of her eyes as she tried to concentrate on refilling another muffin tin.

One scoop per tin. Top off with crumbles. Extra blueberries on top.

Just the way Tyler liked them.

Not that he was going to get a taste. Not this time. He was leaving in a matter of hours, regardless that he loved her.

Regardless that she loved him.

She did.

Denial rushed through her. No, she didn't
love
love him. She was close … Dangerously so. That's why she'd barricaded herself in her kitchen and left Ellie and the others to handle the front business. Because she needed to keep busy, to work and not think.

Because she wasn't falling all the way, not head over heels, body, heart, and soul, in love with Tyler McCall. Love required sacrifice, and as much as she wanted to, she just couldn't sacrifice everything she'd worked so hard for.

She wouldn't.

She wouldn't do something so self-destructive as to fall in love with any man. She wouldn't give up everything.

If only everything didn't seem like nothing at all without Tyler McCall.

*   *   *

“What do you mean you can't see me?” Tyler demanded when he stomped into the bakery later that afternoon, after a very heated phone conversation. He'd called to ask to see her, no doubt to discuss the bomb he'd dropped the night before and tell her he still had to leave. Of course, she'd turned him down.

And turned him down again when he'd called back the second time.

And the third time.

Now here was Tyler himself, standing on the other side of the counter, wearing a black T-shirt that read
IT'S ALL ABOUT THE RIDE
and faded jeans and an intense look that made her pulse leap.

“Let me rephrase that, I don't want to see you.” There. She'd said it, despite the fact that she was inhaling the all-too-familiar and terribly sexy scent of warm male and leather and him. Her nostrils flared and her lungs filled, and Brandy damned herself for being so weak.

She wasn't weak. She was holding her own, keeping up her defenses, until Tyler made a run for the hills and she could let her guard down again. And, more important, before she gave in to the hunger inside her and begged him to stay.

“We need to talk—”

“—you're leaving,” she cut in. “I know. It's no big deal. I know you didn't mean what you said the other day. You were worked up and so was I and you didn't mean to say what you said.”

“Oh, I meant it, all right—”

“Oh, wow, would you look at the time? I've got a birthday cake due over at the church for Maureen O'Reilly's eightieth. I promised to deliver it myself and I'm late,” she said, untying her apron and hanging it on the nearest hook. “Look, you just run along and don't worry that I'm making more out of it than you meant. We all get a little crazed in the heat of the moment. Chemistry is a powerful thing. People mistake lust for love all the time. Just look at the divorce rate. Lust,” she rushed on before he could say anything to shake her determination. “The other night was just a bad case of lust, but now it's sated and—”

“Is it?” he cut in, his gaze deep and searching, as if he struggled to see everything she was trying so hard to deny.

“Yes,” she declared with as much bravado as she could muster considering he smelled so good and she had this insane urge to press her head to his chest just to hear if his heart was beating as fast as hers. “It's definitely sated.”

He eyed her for a long, breathless moment, and she knew he was going to argue with her. That, or throw her over his shoulder and tote her back to the rodeo arena and make love to her over and over until she developed such a craving for him that she couldn't keep from loving him back. And damned if a small part of her didn't want him to do just that. To take the decision out of her hands so that she didn't have to think, to worry, to be afraid of what she felt for him.

What she
almost
felt, she reminded herself. She wasn't there yet. She wasn't in love. Not with him. She
wasn't
.

As if he sensed the turmoil inside her, his fierce expression eased into his usual charming grin—which made her that much more wary.

“It was fun,” she blurted, “and now it's over. Let's not make more of it than what it was. You go your way and I go mine.”

“Lust, huh? Just lust?”

“Exactly.”

He nodded. “And it's over, right?”

“Right.”

“Good. Then I don't have to worry about you jumping my bones while I walk you over to the VFW Hall. I need to say a few good-byes.” He shrugged. “You're going and I'm going. We might as well walk together.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I can't.” She put her purse back down beside her.

“So you're not going?”

“Of course, I am. Later. After lunch.” She eyed the half-eaten hamburger in front of her. “You just run along and do your business and I'll stop off later. I think that would work much better. I mean, our time together
is
over. Business concluded. You really should get on with your life, and I'm already zooming right ahead with mine.”

He eyed her for a long moment. “You're stubborn, you know that?”

“I'm confident, not stubborn. I just know what I want out of life, that's all.”

“Let's hope.” He winked before turning toward the door.

She drew a deep, steady breath and sent up a silent thank-you. The good-bye was over. Now he would leave and she could get back to work and all would be right with the world again. Rationally, she knew that.

It was the irrational urge to run after him and throw herself into his arms that scared the crap out of her, and made her all the more determined
not
to love Tyler McCall.

*   *   *

She loved him.

With any other woman, Tyler might have had his doubts. After all, she'd ditched him last night and given him the brush-off just now. Talk about rejection.

But this was Brandy.

Bold, sassy, sexy as hell, and scared.

Business concluded
, she'd said.

He might have believed her, except that he'd seen the wariness in her eyes, heard the desperation in her voice. There'd been none of the cool confidence of a woman completely uninvolved, none of the nonchalance of someone ready to turn her back and walk away because she didn't feel anything for him.

Yep, she loved him all right, and so Tyler had backed off when he'd wanted nothing more than to pull her close and never let go. He didn't want her to feel pressured or anxious or afraid.

He wanted her willing, sure, certain-beyond-a-doubt.

That meant she had to come to terms with her feelings in her own time, and so he decided then and there that he wasn't going to press or push.

Not too much, that is.

He certainly wasn't going to hide away and bide his time and simply hope that she came to her senses. Tyler had never been a patient man when it came to something he wanted, and he really wanted Brandy Tucker.

And she wanted him back.

She just needed a little help admitting it.

 

CHAPTER 38

“There's a word for this, you know,” Brandy said nearly a week after Tyler's declaration when she opened her front door to find him standing on the stoop.

Still in Rebel even though the Cheyenne rodeo was happening in less than a week.

The devil danced in his eyes as he grinned. “Dating?”

She ignored the thumping of her heart and glared. “Harassment. You've shown up every night this week.” Every night at exactly the same time. So punctual she could have set her clock by him.

As if his presence, so tall and sexy and reliable, wasn't bad enough, he'd come bearing gifts. The first night, he'd shown up with a dozen pink roses. The second, he'd brought a box of chocolate-covered strawberries. The third had been a gallon of ice cream from the local Baskin Robbins. Today?

She eyed the starched Wranglers and pressed western shirt. He'd traded the frayed straw cowboy hat for a sleek black one, his boots shiny and polished. He handed her a clear florist's box with a wrist corsage nestled inside.

“What's this for?”

“The Elks are having their monthly dinner and dance, and I thought you might want to get out.”

“Shouldn't you be training?”

“I'm done for the day. Besides, this is more important.”

You're more important
.

That's what his gaze said even though the words never left his lips.

Wishful thinking, she told herself.

“Come on. You need to get out. Have a little fun.”

Like hell. That's what she wanted to say, but truthfully she'd never felt so idle in her entire life. She'd finished up all her prep for tomorrow and the only thing that loomed ahead was a lonely night watching
Shark Tank
reruns with Jez the dog. “If I go, you have to promise me that this is strictly platonic. Just two friends having a night out. Promise me.” Her heart pounded for several long seconds as she held his gaze. “Please,” she finally added.

As if he sensed her desperation, his expression faded and he nodded. “Just friends.”

*   *   *

“This is my friend, Brandy Tucker.” Tyler introduced Brandy for the umpteenth time to one of the elderly couples standing near the punch table and she did her best not to frown.

They were just friends, she reminded herself.

Which meant it shouldn't bother her when he said the word. Or left her sitting alone to dance with Mrs. Meyers, the chairperson for the event. Or Mrs. Davenport, wife of the head Elk. Or Mrs. Carlisle, newly widowed and president of the senior ladies crochet circle.

She watched Tyler lead the small, round woman around the dance floor. Her silver hair piled high on top of her head in a monstrous beehive. Bright-orange lipstick matched the blinding shades of her flower-print dress, and her white patent-leather shoes gleamed in the dim lighting. With every turn, Brandy glimpsed the top edge of her knee-high panty hose just below her hemline. On top of that, the woman was three times his age.

It's not like Brandy had anything to be jealous of even if they had been more than friends.

Which they weren't.

“Where's the domino group?” she asked the minute he walked back to their table. “The band's playing so they should be out back by now, right?” She pushed to her feet. “I think I'd like to sit in on a hand.”

“I promised Miss Earline I'd dance with her first.”

“Then point me in the right direction and you can go dance with Miss Earline.”