What a Texas Girl Dreams (Crimson Romance) (16 page)

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, for being the worst kind of father for most of your life. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m especially sorry that after your mom died, I disappeared even more.”

Monica’s throat closed, making it hard for her to breathe. Connie had caught a virus when Monica was just beginning junior high, the year after Vanessa arrived at the ranch. While she was hospitalized, the doctors had found cancer. Two months later, Connie was gone, and Nathaniel was unreachable. “If I could go back, I would. But if you’d like, maybe we could start forward from here. When you’re ready.”

Monica wasn’t sure what to say. Nathaniel reached across the table and took her hand. “For what it’s worth, I think you girls have all done a tremendous job of raising yourselves.”

“Grandfather helped a little.”

“Your mother helped a lot.”

Monica returned his smile. “Yeah, she did.” For all the times Nathaniel hadn’t been there, Connie had. She’d done all the mother things — painting pink Mercurocream bunnies over tiny scrapes when Monica was little, shopping for dresses for her first junior high dance. It was Connie who taught Monica to love horses, who started her obsession with barrel racing.

They sat silently for a while. Monica tried to equate the man sitting with her at the table with the father she remembered from her childhood.

She watched Piebaby playing in the pasture and smiled. He was the kind of horse her mother would have chosen, not because he had great lineage, but because he had heart.

“I’m going to train Piebaby to run barrels next season.” Her gaze caught on the horse, cantering around the pasture without a care in the world. Munching grass, oblivious to the plans forming in her mind.

“Does your fellah know that?”

She shook her head. No, he didn’t. He might suspect, but he didn’t know. She bit back the he’s-not-my-guy words sitting on the tip of her tongue. Trick was her guy, for all the right reasons. Prime among them, that he wanted to be. She just didn’t know if he wanted to be Rodeo Monica’s guy or if was only interested in Ranch Monica.

But if her father could change, if her vision of her life could change so drastically in just a few weeks, maybe Trick could bend, too. Just a little bit.

“You might want to give him a clue.”

“I will, but it doesn’t matter unless Piebaby can race. If he can’t, I’ll train another horse.”

“The fairgrounds have all the equipment you need.”

Monica slid from her seat back into the water and walked Jinx out of the pool as the buzzer rang, alerting her their hour was over. “What if he isn’t fast enough?”

“You can train for speed. Teach him how to compensate for slow hooves, as long as he’s not too far off the times.” Nathaniel considered her. “Is he all you’re worried about?”

Not even close. If Piebaby could race, would he be as good as Jinx? And the road could be wearing, but was she really ready to give it up? Could she just be the girl who used to run barrels? It didn’t feel right, but if she also wanted Trick, could she keep following the circuit? She dried Jinx, her mind whirling with questions and then toweled off her legs before slipping her feet out of the toe-sneakers and into her flip-flops. She started Jinx toward the ring, and Nathaniel followed.

“Do you think they’d set up the barrels for a time trial?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Will you come along?”

Just over an hour later, Nathaniel stood to the side of the main gate with a stopwatch. Monica was atop Piebaby, who move restlessly from side to side. Kathleen, who had seen them loading the horse and tagged along, instructed the maintenance man where to set up the barrels. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. When she returned to the gate and the fairground worker stood off to the side, Monica nodded to Nathaniel.

She patted Piebaby’s neck.

“Go!” Nathaniel shouted from the side, and Monica tapped her heels against the horse’s sides.

Piebaby took off like a shot, but the run felt wrong. His gait wasn’t the same as Jinx’s, and Monica felt off balance around the first barrel. She tapped Piebaby again as they headed to the second barrel. He cornered it and took off for the third barrel. Monica squeezed her thighs against the saddle leather as they rounded the barrel and started for the finish line.

“Go, baby, go,” she chanted under her breath. Adrenaline shot through her veins as they crossed the line.

Monica slowed the horse and walked him back to the ring to cool him down.

“Twenty point six.”

Her hopes fell. The average time on a standard course was fourteen to sixteen seconds. Five seconds over that, with no distractions from the stands, might be insurmountable. It underscored Piebaby’s speed issues.

“With the right training, he could race. He’s got good form, especially rounding the barrels.” Kathleen spoke from beside Nathaniel.

Good form was a plus. Speed was better. A horse could be taught to corner. Speed was inherent, and even though it was only his first race, Monica had been on courses like this one a hundred times. She knew how to get more speed from her mount. She knew when a horse had something left.

Piebaby might have a little more power but not almost five seconds’ worth. Which meant if he raced, the rides would depend on other racers knocking over barrels or having deductions. Not a solid racing plan.

She shook her head. “No, if I want to go back to work, I need a faster horse.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want? I mean with Trick here … ”

Monica held up a hand to stop her sister. “I know what I need and what I need is a fast horse.” She turned Piebaby toward the truck and trailer. A fast horse didn’t sound nearly as inviting as Trick, and that was the biggest problem of all.

Chapter Eight

Saturday dawned clear and hot. Monica stretched, pushing her feet across the bed against Trick’s legs. She didn’t tell him about testing Piebaby the day before. Didn’t tell him she was in the market for another horse.

Didn’t tell him that their relationship now had an expiration date: the next rodeo season.

Because as much as she wanted to be with him, she couldn’t treat him with the same callousness as her father had once treated other people. Relationships needed two people, together. Not one leaving town for weeks at a time and the other waiting at home. At least, not in her experience. She’d made the decision about Trick somewhere between the fairgrounds and the ranch, absently watching the hills roll by outside the truck window while Nathaniel and Kathleen debated horse speed against horse training.

Her father agreed with her — a horse had to be fast to be a winner. Her sister insisted training was more important.

Monica didn’t care then, and she didn’t care now. Piebaby was her horse, and he would be a great working cow horse. Not a racer.

This morning, though, she felt guilty. Because of Piebaby, and because she hadn’t mentioned any of this to Trick.

She watched him sleeping, a blue sheet across his hips, his strong back bared to the room. He snored lightly, and she smiled. Content. He looked content, sleeping the morning away in his bed, in his home. Funny, she hadn’t missed her home in Austin since coming back to Lockhardt. She’d wished to be back there, but mostly that was to get away from the feeling she didn’t belong in this town. But now … she did feel like she belonged here.

With Trick. Waking up on a lazy Saturday with nothing more to do than attend a family barbecue and eat too much of Guillermo’s famous potato salad. She settled back against the pillows to watch the sky turn from black to a light gray outside the windows.

She slid across the sheets to kiss Trick’s shoulder. He moved restlessly at the touch, but didn’t wake, so she kissed him again. That kiss led her to the indentation in his spine, so Monica placed another kiss and followed that one to his other shoulder.

He shifted beneath her, turned onto his back, and smiled. “You’re a much better alarm clock than the radio.”

She pressed a kiss to his chest and smiled back. “Glad to know I’ve got a talent that will keep you on your toes.”

He pulled her up his chest, until she straddled his body, and took her mouth in a sweet kiss. “You’ve got many talents, and every one of them keeps me on my toes,” he said, nipping her lower lip.

“I might have a few surprises.” She wriggled her hips against him and felt his length harden between them.

“I’m acquainted with this surprise.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Not all of it.”

Monica slid off his hips, pressing kisses to his throat, his chest. She kissed the hard ridge of his sternum and then pressed her open mouth over his nipple. Trick groaned, and she chuckled. “See, surprises.”

“Don’t stop there. Feel free to continue.”

Monica did.

As many times as Trick had worshipped her body in the past year, she’d never shown him just how powerfully she could affect his body. She put her hands to work, her nails scraping along his abs and then kissing the sting away. Slowly, she worked her way down his body. Her hands flirted with his erection, squeezing gently. Following the hardened vein on one side with a fingernail, making him draw in a pained breath and arch his back.

She played with him for a moment, enjoying the feeling of power over this man who helped her realize exactly what it was she wanted: everything.

That she couldn’t have everything was beside the point.

Monica blew on the silken tip of his erection, making Trick shudder in response, and then she took him in her mouth.

“Sweet Jesus,” he said between clenched teeth as her mouth worked magic on him.

Trick lay more or less still for barely a second more and then pulled her up his body until they were chest to chest, mouth to mouth. He opened her thighs so that she straddled him again, fitted their bodies together, and then plunged inside.

Monica set the rhythm, slowly rising above him and then sliding back down until he was fully inside her. She set her palms on his chest for better balance. He flattened his palms against her breasts to torture her. Rolled her nipples between his fingers and then pulled her forward to taste her.

She’d had his mouth on her breasts before. Too many times to count, but this morning felt different. Better. Trick’s hands travelled over her back to her hips, demanding more. She quickened the pace until they both breathed hard, and then a shaking began deep inside her. A shift.

Rising once more, she arched her back and buried her hands in his hair and then a bright flash took her over. Trick shouted once and followed her into the abyss.

He pulled her to him, spooning her back to his front. Monica settled into his arms and sighed. Closed her eyes.

“I love you, Mon,” he mumbled as his breathing evened and he slipped back into sleep.

She kissed his knuckles and settled against his chest. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

Only love didn’t change everything.

• • •

She loved him. Trick pulled his truck under one of the trees in the ranch yard, still grinning inside. He hadn’t intended to tell Monica he loved her, not while they made love, anyway. Smart women never believed that one, not even when it was true.

It was true in his case. He loved Monica, and that scared the crap out of him. She was the last kind of girl he’d expected to fall for. He watched her from the corner of his eye. She wore her usual Texas chic — a cream-and-lace minidress, which screamed to the world she was all woman, the brown-and-teal Lucchese boots that let everyone know she could take care of herself.

Her hand rested in his, and she grinned. “You’re the one who wanted to date, you know. So when this” — she waved a hand at the food-laden tables on the patio and her family sitting around them — “gets all family oriented, you have only yourself to blame.”

“I think I can handle it.”

He pulled her to him for a fast, hard kiss and then slid out the door with her close behind.

Mat pushed a chair out from one of the small tables with his foot, indicating Trick should sit, when Vanessa pulled Monica inside the house. Jinx and Piebaby meandered around the corral, and on the distant hills cattle grazed. Mat handed Trick a bottle of beer and sat back.

“Wasn’t sure you’d show.”

“Me turn down a pretty girl’s invitation?” Trick shook his head. “You know me better than that.”

Jackson exited the patio door, and Mat called him over. They’d met a few times but, with the photographer leaving for New York and parts unknown every few weeks, they didn’t technically know one another. No time like the present, Trick decided.

They chatted about the Rangers, the prospects for the Cowboys versus the Texans in football, and every other sporting topic available. Guillermo pulled a pan of ribs from the smoker and headed into the kitchen.

“God, I missed Texas food in New York.” Jackson twisted the top off a beer and took a long pull.

“Not just Texas food, Gui’s cooking, in general. It was the only thing that had me going back to New Mexico every summer as a kid,” Mat said.

“Bullshit.” Trick joined in the banter.

“Okay, the prospect of new girls, who would fall under the charms of a California boy, held my interest, too.”

Jackson sat forward, focused on Mat. “Have you warned him off our Monica?”

“Tried and failed. But don’t worry; she’s still got the upper hand.”

“Always knew that girl would be the hardest of the sisters to tame.”

“I’m holding my own.” Trick sat back, enjoying the camaraderie.

“Spoken like a man who doesn’t realize these girls are the most ornery, irascible, and completely wonderful women on the planet.”

“I’m fully aware.” Trick finished his beer and tossed the bottle into a trash can. “She loves me.”

Mat and Jackson wore twin expressions of surprise.

“Stop the barbecue,” Monica shouted from the doors, holding Vanessa’s hand and walking slowly through the door. Mat left his chair like a shot. Guillermo froze, still holding the second rack of ribs. “They’re having a baby.”

Vanessa stepped across the patio, discomfort written on her face. She pressed one hand to her belly. “Sorry to ruin the party, everyone.”