Games of the Heart

Chapter Fifteen Uneasy

Mike stood in Dusty’s kitchen in Texas, hip to the counter, bottle of beer in his hand.

Dusty was in her bedroom getting ready to take him to Schub’s. It was Friday night. Hunter and Jerra were meeting them there. Texas barbeque, beer and Mike meeting her best friends in the environs of a dive bar that Dusty warned him had sawdust on the floor, a mechanical bull and line dancing was required.

He was not about to line dance.

He was also feeling uneasy.

This was because, as far as the eye could see, was beauty.

And she was giving this up for her nephews, her family farm…

And him.

Her one story house was attractive and sprawling, all the bedrooms and two baths off a long hall. The enormous living room jutted out the front and included a large, well-appointed kitchen. There were picture windows everywhere with vistas of the dust and scrub of deep south Texas plains, a small barn and large shed. All of it attractive, well kept with a vast amount of pots, half barrels, window boxes and hanging planters that were, in this climate in March, a riot of color.

The house, Dusty told him, was planted smack in the middle of the twenty acres she owned.

Twenty.

Plenty of room for her to roam and exercise her horses. Solitude for her to create her work. Not a single housing development in sight. Beauty as far as the eye could see.

The Holliday farm was more than fifty times the space but from April to November, the vast majority of that land was taken up with corn.

You could not ride a horse through corn.

Mike took a sip of beer then dropped his hand and left it curled around the bottle on the counter, his mind continuing to sift through the things he’d learned that day.

Dusty’s gallery was less than an hour’s drive away and they’d arrived late morning. They’d driven to it early afternoon because Dusty needed to meet with the gallery manager.

She’d told him and he saw upon arrival that she didn’t sell only her own work but the gallery showcased only local artisans’ wares. More pottery plus paintings, jewelry, glasswork, sculptures, carvings, Native American and Mexican art in all forms. It wasn’t large but it was attractive and she’d done it smart. There was something to fit a wide variety of tastes and incomes from postcards to handmade notecards to attractive but inexpensive one-of-a-kind stud earrings to one of the large pieces of art costing over two thousand dollars. When they arrived at the gallery which was located right on San Antonio’s popular River Walk, regardless that it was Friday afternoon, there were several patrons. It wasn’t packed but it wasn’t deserted.

And it was the first time Mike had seen her work. Considering what she told him it cost, although Mike was not into pottery, he was expecting it to be impressive.

He was right. It was. But it was more. Unusual, fluid, almost whimsical shapes but surprisingly glazed in subtle, muted hues – creams, beiges, grays and deep lilacs. It was eye-catching, extraordinary. They were not pieces you would take home and use to put flowers in or serve up mashed potatoes. It was meant to be exhibited, each piece being one that would bring elegance to a room.

As he watched her interact he saw Dusty clearly had a close, trusting relationship with the clerks and the manager. She chose the art and supplied her own; they displayed it and sold it. She told Mike that she had twice monthly meetings with the manager then let the woman do her own thing. Dusty made pottery and deposited checks. The gallery manager even managed Dusty’s pieces being supplied to other shops and galleries throughout the west.

Dusty had an accountant, a man who tended her land, a housekeeper and a manager. Dusty went to classes with her friend Jerra. She made her pottery. She toured Texas, meeting other artists and attending events that displayed and sold her work. She had dinner parties, went to them, ate out or went for drinks frequently with friends.

She had a good life in Texas.

Perfect.

No hassle, no headache (except LeBrec), she didn’t even clean her own damned clothes.

All good.

Mike did not have a housekeeper and looking into private schools on his own for Reesee, he never would. In fact, if his daughter didn’t qualify for a scholarship, there was no way in hell he’d be able to swing the tuition and still he couldn’t hire a housekeeper.

Even without grief, Debbie’s tricks and McGrath, Mike couldn’t provide Dusty a life without hassle and headache seeing as his was filled with teenagers and an ex who liked to play games.

He heard the deep thud of the heels of cowboy boots hit tile and his body jolted, pulling him out of his thoughts. His eyes moved to Dusty to see her rounding the bar that delineated the kitchen from the living room, her gaze on him.

He pulled in breath.

Her hair was a sleek, thick fall down her shoulders and chest. She had a little tee on that stretched tight at her tits but had some room, minimal though it was, at her midriff. It was bright purple and in grays and lighter shades of purple there was a cowgirl on it, chaps over a fringed skirt, cowboy hat, in mid-throw of a lasso. Charcoal gray suede belt with a big, silver belt buckle looped through her faded jeans. Black cowboy boots. More gray suede, this a thin strip wrapped again and again as a choker around her throat and at the front, small, round silver medallions hung. There was more silver at her ears and wrists. And even though they were going to a place that titled itself a “Saloon and Hoedown” her makeup was deeper and said, plainly, “fuck me”.

Taking in her appearance and affected by it in a multitude of ways, he didn’t move as she made it to him. He noted instantly her usual musky, floral, outdoorsy scent was deeper than normal and he noted this as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed close.

Her back was arched, her head tipped way back to keep her eyes on him and softly, she said, “They’ll be cool. If they aren’t, we’ll go home early.”

She was talking about the kids spending an extra night with Audrey. He liked it that she cared and was thinking about his kids.

But she was wrong about the train of his thoughts.

“I know they’ll be cool. They’re good kids. Though, not sure if Reesee will make it an entire weekend without breathing Fin’s air.”

Dusty grinned at him and pressed closer.

Fuck, fuck, she was beautiful.

Even more here, at home, in her element.

He wasn’t holding her and he didn’t but he did lift a hand to cup her jaw.

When he did, his eyes moving over her face, he murmured, “Think, right now and maybe forever, you’re the most beautiful woman I ever have and ever will see.”

He felt her body press deeper into him as her eyelids got soft and her lips parted.

Then she whispered, “Sometimes Jonathan Michael Haines, you kill me.”

Last night, when Dusty (and Fin) were over, No had shared Mike’s full name and since then Dusty had used it fifty times.

He slid his hand down to her neck and asked, “What’s with the full name business, Angel?”

She grinned again and her arms gave him a squeeze.

“I didn’t know that about you,” she answered. “I found it a shock,” she widened her eyes and got up on her toes, “an actual shock that I didn’t know something about you.” She rolled down on her feet, kept grinning and talking. “This is so easy. It feels like we’ve been together forever sometimes. So I say it because I like to remind myself we’re new and I have a wealth of things to uncover about Jonathan,” she shook his middle, “Michael,” she shook it again, “Haines.” She ended on a squeeze and a smile.

She was so fucking adorable, not able to stop himself but also not trying, Mike slid his hand into her hair, bent his neck and dropped his mouth to hers. Her lips opened, his tongue slid inside and he kissed her with both her arms around him, his one hand wrapped around a beer resting on her kitchen counter, his other hand buried in her hair. With her pressing herself tight against him, he took his time, he built it for the both of them and he only broke it when she pressed deep and he heard that sexy little noise slide up the back of her throat.

“Thank God I didn’t put on my lip gloss yet,” she whispered breathily a second after he lifted his head away half an inch.

He smiled into her eyes but even as he did, he told her, “Later, we got shit to talk about.”

Her eyes danced and she returned, “Hopefully, we’ll always have shit to talk about.”

He lifted his head another inch, feeling his smile fading. “Important shit, sweetheart.”

Her eyes moved to his mouth then back to his.

Then she noted, “I’m not real hot on the look on your face.”

Mike wasn’t real hot on what he was feeling.

“Mike?” Dusty called and he focused on her.

“Tomorrow. Now, let’s go meet your friends.”

“Unh-unh,” she shook her head and kept her arms locked around him. “No way. I’m not about to commence drinking with Jerra, which commences anything goes worried about what’s on your mind. Spill.”

“Dusty –”

Her eyes narrowed, she got up on her toes and squeezed tight. “Spill.”

Christ, she could be adorable.

Mike smiled and muttered, “Seems you can be bossy too.”

“Don’t be sexy, cute hot when I’m being bossy,” she ordered and Mike started chuckling.

“Mike,” it was a warning, “spill.”

Mike spilled.

“You’ve got a good life.”

This time Dusty smiled. “Noticed that did you?”

He tore his eyes from her smile and looked at the sun setting over the south Texas plains. When he looked back at her, strangely, she looked confused.

Still, he replied, “Yeah, I did. Then again, hard to miss.”

She edged an inch away but didn’t take her arms from him and asked, “You mean this?”

Mike blinked at her and he did it slow.

“This?” he asked.

She looked around then back at him. “Yeah. This. Is that what you mean?”

“Darlin’, you got a great house, a buttload of land, a fantastic business and a hassle-free life. So yeah. I mean this. All of it.”

She studied him and she did it closely.

Then she announced, “Beau’s down here. He’s a pain in my ass and if you’ll remember on our plane ride down here, I forewarned you he’s a staple at Schub’s especially Friday night. You’ll probably see him. He’ll probably do something to prove he’s a jackass and being a hot guy, alpha male, badass you’ll probably be forced to do something that will prove to everyone he’s what they already know. A jackass.”

“Dusty –”

“Then there’s Ryder who broke my heart. Broke it in half. He moved away but he’s back and I see him every once in a while. It’s not a lot but each time it hurts. Not remembering what we had but that I fell for his shit.”

“Dus –”

“And it doesn’t snow here. Not even at Christmas. Brown Christmases suck, babe.”

Mike felt his lips turn up but still he tried again, “Dusty –”

He also failed.

“There’s no Hilligoss. There’s no Reggie’s. There’s no Frank’s. I’ll repeat there’s no Hilligoss. And the only bar in town is Schub’s and if you’re not in the mood for rowdy, you’re fucked.”

He dipped his face closer and started, “Honey, I –”

She cut him off again. “If I don’t go back, I’ll miss the teenage romance of Finley Holliday and Clarisse Haines playing out and I definitely won’t be able to play kickass, cool, cowboy boot-wearing, pottery-making fairy godmother Aunt Dusty.”

Mike decided to shut up.

It was a good decision seeing as Dusty wasn’t done.

“No wants me to sing with his band the next time I’m home and they’re practicing. Rocky was cool and I liked her. Merry was hilarious and I really liked him. Both No and Rees are nowhere near ready to be on their own on a horse so there’s tuition I’m in the middle of that it’s a moral imperative I finish. And if Audrey starts fucking up your life, who’s going to get in a bitch smackdown with her?”

She stopped talking.

So Mike felt it safe to ask, “Are you done?”

“No,” she replied then finished, “Most importantly, down here there’s no you.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Angel,” he whispered but had no more. His chest was burning and he found he couldn’t talk around the intensity of the heat.

“Texas isn’t gonna fall into an ocean, Mike,” she said softly. “You know I’ve decided I’m not selling the ranch. I’m gonna rent it. No doors are closing. But one opened a while ago and I think you remember I walked right through.”

“I don’t want you to have any regrets,” Mike said softly right back.

She shook her head and again pressed close. “I’ve been involved in lots of games of the heart, gorgeous. Rolled the dice time and again, took a lot of risks, took a lot of falls. Finally seems I’m winning. I’m not about to play it safe now.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

“How badly you want me to meet Jerra and Hunter?” Mike asked.

He watched her blink then she asked, “Sorry?”

“How badly you want me to meet your friends?”

“Uh…badly. As badly as they wanna meet you.”

“So how pissed would they be that we’re an hour or two late?”

Light dawned, her eyes flashed, he had to fight his dick getting hard but even as her face got soft, her lips grinned.

“They got a babysitter. Since I called her Wednesday and told her we’re coming down, Jerra’s been so beside herself, you’d think I told her I was bringing Charlie Hunnam home with me. She’s called seven times. If we’re even ten minutes late, she’ll lose her mind.”

“Charlie who?”

“Charlie Hunnam, Jax from Sons of Anarchy. She watches that show religiously. She has a Sons of Anarchy coffee mug. A Sons of Anarchy ashtray even though she doesn’t smoke. A Sons of Anarchy t-shirt. And she has a Sons of Anarchy billfold that she actually uses that says, ‘What would Gemma do?’ She’s told Hunter that if Charlie Hunnam shows up at the door and tells her she’s the woman of his dreams, she’s leaving him and their kids. Hunter is usually laidback about most stuff but seeing as he’s half Mexican-American, half-WASP, dark-skinned, black-haired and looks absolutely nothing like Charlie Hunnam, not to mention he’s ten years older than Charlie, he, for some reason, does not find this amusing. So, head’s up, babe. Do not mention Sons of Anarchy and absolutely do not mention Charlie Hunnam or sparks will fly and I promise you’ll get burned.”

“So, boiling all that down, you’re saying I can’t take you to bed and fuck you as my way of saying thank you for making me feel easy.”

She melted into him but answered quietly, “Unfortunately, yes.”

She was right. It was unfortunate.

“Then we should get going.”

She didn’t move or let him go.

Instead she called, “Mike?”

He slid his hand back to her jaw and answered, “Yeah?”

“Sure you’re easy?”

He held her eyes and whispered, “Yeah.”

“You see me giving up a lot. But I don’t think you get what I’m gaining.”

“I get it.”

“Then I’m not sure you understand how much it means to me.”

He pulled in breath and that burn in his chest came back.

“Well if I didn’t,” his eyes tipped out the window at the darkening horizon then they came back to her, “now I do.”

She held his gaze.

Then she smiled.

Then she whispered on an arm squeeze, “Good.”

Then she rolled up on her toes, kissed him quickly, let him go and they got in their rental SUV and drove to Schub’s.

“You want, I can find you a leather strap and you can bite down on it. Won’t ease the pain but it’ll mean you won’t scream.”

That was Rivera giving Texas advice for sitting at a Saloon and Hoedown watching your woman getting whipped around by a mechanical bull for the third time.

Yes, the third time.

Clearly, she’d done it often but had not got any better at it. Mike knew this because two seconds after Rivera’s offer, off Dusty flew to land in a pit of sawdust covered foam rubber.

She jumped to her feet, hair flying, sawdust drifting, body unsteady as she tried to balance on the foam rubber. Once steady, she threw her hands in the air and screeched, “Giddyup!”

The crowd went wild.

Yes, for the third time.

“Jesus,” Mike muttered.

“Payback,” Rivera muttered back and Mike tore his gaze from his woman brushing off flakes of sawdust to the handsome, half-Mexican-American, half-WASP man sitting with him at the table and smiling a big white smile.

“Pardon?”

“You laid her out,” Rivera reminded him. “Now, I coulda called and warned you that Schub’s was not the place to be…” he hesitated, “ever with Jerra and Dusty. We coulda gone to Del Rio Cantina. Best Mexican food outside of Mexico. Quiet until the mariachi band starts roaming. And although the tequila and lime juice flows and those two women get loud, there’s no mechanical bull to climb on and there’s no DJ to beg to play ‘Achy-Breaky Heart’.”

“Fuck,” Mike muttered, not looking forward to that part of the evening.

“Yeah. They love that song though they start it dancing and end it hanging on each other giggling. Then they sit at the table and talk for an hour about how the mullet is a male hairstyle that’s underappreciated.”

“Christ.” Mike was still muttering.

“Don’t worry, I think they’re jokin’,” Rivera assured him.

Fuck, he hoped so.

“So, to sum up,” Hunter went on. “You’re here as payback. I think this is painful enough you’ll never do the dirt on Dusty again.”

Mike’s eyes drifted to the mechanical bull to see Jerra climbing on it with Dusty on the sidelines jumping up and down, clapping, shouting and more bits of sawdust that she hadn’t swiped off drifting from her clothes and hair.

Mike’s eyes went back to Rivera. “I’m not certain the punishment fits the crime.”

Rivera threw his head back and laughed.

Mike did not. He watched Jerra and the bull start up then, ten seconds later, he watched the bull throw wide a giggling herself sick Jerra.

Still chuckling and clearly immune to this nightmare due to constant exposure, Rivera belatedly replied, “Bro, I think I gotta agree.”

Mike’s eyes slid to his woman and he saw two cowboys encouraging her to have another go. He also knew why they were. Tee tight across her tits and her ass looked way too fucking good in those jeans.

Therefore, he lost his patience.

So he put his fingers to his mouth, whistled loud and sharp then took them out and immediately shouted, “Yo, Dusty!”

Her eyes shot to his.

He shook his head then he lifted his hand and crooked a finger at her.

If she didn’t haul her ass immediately back to the table, Mike was prepared to stalk her way, remove her from the clutch of cowboys she’d been entertaining the last fifteen minutes, throw her over his shoulder and take her back. Luckily, she did some head shaking, some “I’m sorry” smiling, grabbed Jerra’s hand and headed their way.

As for the night, the good news was, Schub’s barbeque was the best he’d ever tasted, hands down. The beer was chilled so cold it was nearly icy and went down smooth. Rivera was just as likeable in person as he was over the phone. Jerra was petite, brunette and had some meat on her in all the right places. She was also a fucking nut.

She and Dusty graduated quickly from beer sipping to tequila shooters then the night went bad.

“Seriously, Mike, no joke. You Indiana boys got it goin’ on,” Rivera stated, a smile in his voice and Mike just barely was able to tear his eyes from Dusty making her way through cowboys and cowgirls at the very crowded restaurant/saloon/“hoedown” to their table to look at him. “I whistled and crooked my finger at Jerra, her head would split open and fire would shoot out. How do you do it?”

“We keep that secret in Indiana. I’d be lynched if I shared,” Mike replied.

Rivera grinned. Then his eyes shifted over Mike’s shoulder and the grin died a very quick death.

Mike looked over his shoulder, saw nothing but cowboys, cowgirls, rough wood paneling, tables and ropes, saddles, bridles and various cattle equipment on the walls but he heard Rivera muttering, “Fuck. Beau.”

Mike’s scan took on focus and there he was. Mike recognized him from the one time he’d seen his picture on the display of Dusty’s phone. Again wearing what was clearly his uniform, pearl snap button jeans shirt and faded jeans. Dark hair. Tall. Lean. Good-looking. Eyes narrowed on Dusty.

Mike moved instantly. This was because LeBrec was closer to Dusty than Dusty was to the table. This was also because LeBrec’s intent was clear in his narrowed eyes.

He knifed from his chair, felt and heard Rivera move with him and he prowled toward LeBrec the instant LeBrec started stalking toward Dusty.

Unfortunately, the place was packed and Mike couldn’t toss people out of his way. Also unfortunately, Dusty and Jerra were giggling about something therefore they didn’t notice the threat approaching. LeBrec made it to them before Mike and Rivera were even close.

But it was then LeBrec made an even bigger mistake than he’d already made by simply approaching Dusty.

Jerra saw him first and even though she was at least two inches shorter than Dusty and thus seven inches shorter than LeBrec, she positioned herself between him and Dusty. The instant she did, he put a hand on her and shoved her out of the way.

And he didn’t do this gently.

She went flying into the back of a cowboy who clearly had better manners than LeBrec because he twisted quickly and caught Jerra before she landed on her ass.

But Mike learned in that instant that you absolutely did not, under any circumstances, and especially these, put your hand on and shove the wife of an easygoing, laidback, quick-to-laugh half-Mexican-American man, that wife also being the mother of his children.

“Yo! What the fuck?” Mike heard thundered from behind him. Then Rivera had passed Mike and was clearing the way, shouldering past folks who were quickly feeling the vibe so suddenly Rivera found his way was clear.

It was then Mike noted that he had a different situation on his hands and that was keeping a good man and loving husband, who also happened to be a cop, from doing something that might get him reprimanded or, from the look on Rivera’s face, losing his badge.

Mike was six foot one. Rivera couldn’t be taller than five ten. Therefore, Mike used his long leg span to get him to a LeBrec who was so focused on Dusty he didn’t feel the threat coming at his flank.

Mike got to him first, grabbed a wrist, slammed his knee into the back of LeBrec’s and, not expecting it, LeBrec instantly went down to both while Mike twisted his wrist behind his back. Moving so swiftly LeBrec didn’t have a chance to begin to defend himself, Mike grabbed his other wrist and yanked it behind his back, pulling both up so LeBrec’s torso was forced toward the floor. Then Mike bent at the waist and got close.

“Advice, asshole, keep your shit,” Mike growled in his ear. “I am not happy you won’t clue in about Dusty but you just put your hand on Rivera’s woman and now you got on your hands a man who’s seriously not happy.”

LeBrec twisted his neck, caught Mike’s eyes, his narrowed as his face went hard but Rivera was there.

“Look at me!” he barked and when LeBrec didn’t, Rivera bent at the waist and roared in his ear, “Jackass! Look at me!”

Mike kept him pinned on his knees but LeBrec’s head twisted around.

“Give me a reason,” Rivera growled.

“Hunter, take a breath and stand down,” Mike advised.

Without taking his eyes from LeBrec, Rivera ordered, “Let him go, Mike.”

Mike’s hold tightened because LeBrec’s body jerked and his head twisted around quickly so he could scowl at Mike.

“Mike. Fuck. Fuck!” he clipped Mike’s way.

He might have intended to say more but he didn’t get a chance. Rivera reached out and grabbed his jaw, forcing his face around.

Mike clenched his teeth.

“I didn’t tell you that you could quit lookin’ at me,” Rivera ground out, nose-to-nose with LeBrec.

“Hunter, he is not worth the flak you’ll catch,” Mike warned.

Rivera ignored Mike and whispered to LeBrec, “You put your hand on my woman.”

Jerra sidled close, saying softly, “Hunter, honey –”

Rivera kept speaking, eyes never leaving LeBrec, “You never put a hand to any woman like that and definitely not my fuckin’ woman.”

“I was tryin’ to get to Dusty,” LeBrec spat, jerking his jaw from the hold Rivera still had on him.

“And that’s just as fucked,” Rivera shot back, still in his face and not moving. “She don’t want you. She kicked your ass out months ago. You, yourself told the whole town the reason when you called her while she was bein’ banged by her new man and then you spread that shit around like the fuckwad you are. Now you’ve explained that reason more by walkin’ in here, not thinkin’ smart, actin’ like an asshole, he came down on you and got you to your knees and you didn’t have time to lift a finger. What woman wants a man like you who’s not even half a man when she can have one who’s all man?”

LeBrec belatedly fought against Mike’s grip but Mike held firm and yanked up so LeBrec was forced to stop moving in order to limit the pain.

LeBrec threw a glare over his shoulder at Mike then turned his head back to Rivera.

“Fuck you, Hunter,” he hissed.

“If you wanna get fucked in the next decade, you’ll stop actin’ like a pussy-whipped, jackass remindin’ people you got dumped and givin’ them reason to understand why, then you better smarten up and move the fuck on,” Rivera fired back. “You don’t, tonight, you puttin’ your hand on my woman, you bought yourself a world of hurt. I’m your shadow, asshole. You scratch your ass, I’ll know it. You take a piss, I’ll know it. You con some idiot woman into takin’ your cock, I’ll know it.” His face got close to LeBrec’s. “You even fuckin’ sneeze, I’ll know it. And any ‘a that shit I don’t like, I’ll find a way to make your life a misery. You even jaywalk in this town, you’re in the tank. I hear you drove by Dusty’s house, called her states away, I’ll arrest you for harassment. Don’t try me and don’t tempt me. No man puts his hand on my woman and nearly takes her to her ass without retribution. I was a man who just thought you were a douchebag. Now I’m a man you can count as your enemy.”

Rivera was serious and Mike saw LeBrec didn’t miss it. Although he kept up the glower, his face had paled and he’d stopped straining against Mike’s hold.

“Now we got your attention,” Rivera went on, moving back three inches, “let’s get some things straight. Is Dusty Holliday ever gonna hear from you or see you again?”

LeBrec’s eyes went up to a frozen and staring Dusty then back to Rivera.

“No,” he bit out.

“Good,” Rivera replied, sounding like he was talking to a dog he was training. “Now, are you ever, ever gonna put your hand on any woman when it is not wanted or requested?”

“No,” LeBrec clipped.

“Right,” Rivera went on, “Now, Mike here lets you go, you gonna get up, walk your ass outta here and think about your actions? Or are you gonna do somethin’ stupid which means I’ll have to arrest you?”

“Walk out,” LeBrec snapped.

“Good,” Rivera stated. “Now Mike’s gonna let you go slow-like and you’re gonna do that. You with me?”

“I’m with you, asshole,” LeBrec muttered, holding Rivera’s eyes, his seething.

“Good, here we go now,” Rivera said, now speaking as if he was talking to a child. He straightened, looked at Mike and, nodding once, took a step back.

Mike let him go and also stepped back.

Quickly, LeBrec found his feet.

Then he found his bluster.

Eyes on Dusty he bit out, “Don’t know what I was thinkin’. You weren’t worth the effort.”

Dusty crossed her arms on her chest and rolled her eyes the picture, top to toe, of a woman who was worth any effort.

Mike grinned.

Yep, that was his woman.

LeBrec looked to Mike and offered snidely, “You can have her.”

“That’s good since I already do,” Mike replied affably, still grinning.

LeBrec glared at him. Then his eyes took in the cowboys and cowgirls around him and it hit him he was the center of attention in a headline act. Realizing that, his gaze hit his boots and his boots moved across the floor.

Mike watched him go, turning to do it. Few men could endure that humiliation and not learn their lesson. Then again, there were some that such an event would fuel their fire. He wasn’t giving that asshole his back.

LeBrec was swallowed up in a sea of cowboys and cowgirls as Mike smelled Dusty’s perfume close then felt her body closer. He felt this because it was pressed to his side.

He turned his head and looked down at her.

She rolled up on her toes and put one hand to his abs, the thumb of the other hand she hooked in the back belt loop of his jeans.

And close to his ear, she whispered, “That was so hot, that just bought you dirty.” His neck twisted further to catch her eyes and when he did, she pressed her tits tight against his arm and kept whispering, “Filthy.”

Looking into her eyes, feeling her pressed close, reading her face, Mike decided it was time to call it a night.

“Couch, spread,” Mike growled, watched Dusty’s eyes flare then she detached from him and did as he asked.

She was true to her promise. They were back from Schub’s for a second and she’d pounced. Now, at his demand, he was still fully clothed and she was buck naked. Keeping her standing with Dusty allowed to do nothing but hold on, he’d played with her.

Now he was ready to move it along.

She didn’t waste time getting on the couch and doing what he asked, back to the armrest, eyes hot on him, one leg she threw over the back of the couch, the other foot she put on the floor.

She didn’t delay. Seeing her spread herself on the couch for him like that, Mike didn’t either. He joined her, mouth between her legs.

His woman liked his mouth. He knew this because she didn’t hide it. She also was so far gone at that moment, he barely engaged his tongue before she started making the noises she made right before she’d come. It was part tequila, part what happened with LeBrec and part him bossing when they got home. She bitched about his bossing but she loved it.

He knew this because he could taste it.

She was so hot, so agitated, so close, in no time she took Mike to the same place just by hearing her noises and feeling her move. But he wanted that around his dick. No way Dusty could fake an orgasm with him, not that he’d give her reason. But he knew when she came because her pussy clenched and spasmed around his dick. He’d give her that with his mouth and he had.

He just wasn’t going to now.

He lifted up and grasped her hips, yanking her under him.

His hands went to his belt. Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt.

“Want your skin,” she breathed.

He let her do what she wanted. He was busy.

By the time he freed himself, she got his buttons undone and spread his shirt. He covered her with his body and drove inside. Then he watched as her neck arched back, her lips parted and fuck, fuck, he’d been wrong earlier. She was never more beautiful than the first instant she took him inside. She loved it; it washed over her features and every time he saw it he was certain he’d come early. He didn’t because he knew the rest of the show was nearly as spectacular.

He drove in and drew out, riding her hard and her arms circled his shoulders.

“Knees high,” he grunted and she acquiesced immediately, tipping her chin down and giving him her eyes.

“Nothing feels better than you,” she whispered.

Fuck. He liked that.

Mike held her eyes and kept thrusting but doing it harder.

“Nothing, baby,” she breathed, her thighs clasped tight at his sides, her arms tensed and she gave it to him. Her pussy clenched and spasmed around his dick.

Mike drove in faster, harder, her body jolting, he shoved a hand under her, wrapping his arm around the top of her hips and yanking her down as he powered up.

She lifted her head, shoved her face in his neck and, still coming, gasped, “That’s it, baby, fuck me.”

He did as she asked.

Then he plunged his fingers in her hair, fisted, positioned her head for her mouth to take his and his groan drove down her throat as he buried his dick inside her and came.

Each time, it was phenomenal. Each time, he knew the next could never top it.

Each time, he was wrong.

He came down and she was kissing him, her tongue gliding sweet against his. Mike took over, soft at first, building it then taking her to the whimper. When he got it, he ended the kiss, slid his lips down her cheek to her neck and worked his mouth there.

This was different than he had with any other woman. Even Audrey, he disengaged quickly. He didn’t mind closeness, cuddling but, whatever it said about him, when he was done, he was done. With every woman he had, every encounter, within moments he pulled out and rolled away. He might eventually roll them into him but he never stayed buried, kissed, savored the feel of the woman’s limbs rounding him, the smell of her perfume in his nostrils, the taste of her on his tongue, the feel of her wrapped around his dick.

He did it with Dusty every time. He couldn’t get enough of her, enough of her scent, her feel, their connection.

He felt her legs wrap tight and her fingers glide over the skin of his back, light, sweet, her other hand sliding into his hair and playing. It sent prickles across his scalp, down his neck but not the bad kind.

He was about to lift his head when her body bucked in a strange way and she made a noise low in her throat like she was in pain.

His head jerked up and he looked down at her to see her warm brown eyes filled with tears. Filled so full, they spilled over, gliding down her temples into her hair.

“Sweetheart, what the fuck?” he whispered and when he did, she lifted her head, shoved it in his neck, her arms and legs getting tight and she began to sob. As in sob, body wrenching, breath hitching, moans tearing up her throat.

Jesus.

He pulled out. It took effort and not a small amount of time since it seemed with her actions Dusty wanted to burrow into him, for him to absorb her into his skin but he got his jeans adjusted and his shirt off. Then he forced her arms in the sleeves and got two buttons done at her breasts before she plastered herself against him, face buried in his neck, ass in his lap, arms around him in a death grip.

He slid the fingers of one hand up and down her spine soothingly, the fingers of other gliding through her hair as he twisted his neck and whispered in her ear, “Angel, get a handle on it long enough to talk to me. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Da…Da…Darrin,” she sobbed into his neck and her body reared with another hitched breath. “He’d be so…so…ha…happy!”

That was not what he expected her to say. Then again, he had no fucking clue what she was going to say.

Mike’s hands stopped moving so he could circle his arms around her and he whispered, “Dusty.”

“He…he…wanted us together sah…sah…so bad,” she continued blubbering. “And he did…did…didn’t live to see it. In…in fact, him dying is why it happened.”

Jesus.

Mike’s arms got tighter and he kept whispering in her ear when he said, “Honey.”

She jerked back, looked down at him, her face red, her eyes wet, the trails of tears still tracking over her cheeks. “I know I’m weird!” she cried. “Talking about my brah…brah…brother after sex but he would, Mike. He would be happy.” She pulled an arm from around him and dashed a hand across her cheek so clumsily he feared she’d do herself harm but luckily she stopped, took a long shuddering breath and kept talking. “Not the sex part because he was kind of conservative but the you and me part.”

“He wanted us together?” Mike asked and she nodded fervently. “Why?”

“He read my diaries, Mike!” she exclaimed then collapsed against him again. “And he knew you were a good guy.”

Well, that would definitely explain it, at least the diaries.

She’d ratcheted it down to sniffling so Mike moved his hands on her soothingly again, giving her some time before he murmured, “My girl, takin’ everything on, she hasn’t had time to deal with her own shit.”

“No,” Dusty mumbled then sniffed.

“You need to give yourself time to grieve, Angel,” Mike advised.

“When?” she replied. “There is no time with my bitchface sister, budding teenage romance, shadowy, nefarious businessmen lurking and Rhonda baffling science by being the first case of a walking, talking, cooking, grocery shopping coma patient.”

He shouldn’t, he knew he shouldn’t. But his body started rocking with laughter anyway.

This went on a while before Dusty muttered, “This isn’t funny.”

He knew she wasn’t pissed because her words held a smile but Mike calmed his laughter and gathered her close before he said gently, “No, darlin’, it isn’t. But you are.”

She snuggled deep and fell silent.

After a few moments, she whispered, “I miss him, Mike. He used to call once a week, sometimes twice. And I…well, I just miss him.”

“Yeah,” Mike whispered back wishing there was more to say, magic words. But there just wasn’t.

She took in a stuttering breath.

Mike held her close and Dusty held him close right back.

After a while, he dipped his chin and asked softly in her ear, “You want me to clean you up and put you to bed?”

She didn’t answer verbally, just nodded, her head moving against his shoulder and neck.

At her answer, Mike lifted her up, straightening from the couch and he walked her to the bathroom. She leaned heavy into him as he ran a warm cloth between her legs.

This was something else Mike had never done with any woman. With Dusty, he didn’t do it every time, not even often, but he did it. And each time he did it, he found it profound. This was because the woman he held was a woman who could take care of herself but when she was with him, she trusted that to his care. That was a gift but with this act, so intimate, it was more. It was treasure, precious and it never failed to move him.

When he was done, he carried her to her bed. He took off his jeans. He left her in his shirt.

The minute he joined her in bed, he pulled her close even as she burrowed deep.

In the dark, staring at the ceiling, tangled up in Dusty, Mike asked, “You wanna talk?”

She shook her head against his chest.

“I think the beer, tequila, mechanical bull, witnessing an alpha badass in action times two, hot sex and a crying jag took it all out of me,” she replied and Mike grinned.

“That shit happens.”

Her voice held a smile when she muttered, “Yeah.”

“Rain check,” he whispered, “Call it anytime.”

He figured she’d eventually accept his offer but right then she just sighed.

“Sleep, Angel,” he ordered gently.

She sighed again.

Then she whispered, “Yeah.”

He fell silent.

She did too until, “Mike?”

“Right here, sweetheart.”

“Love you, babe.”

Mike’s chest got warm and his arm around his woman got tight.

Then he whispered, “Love you too.”

She pressed closer and within minutes fell asleep.

Seconds after that, Mike followed her.

It was Monday morning. The bags were packed. The boxes taped. The agent had been through the house to add it to her rental listings. There was a shitload more work to do but Dusty’s manager was going to see to any of it that had to do with the pottery, Jerra any of it that had to do with Dusty’s personal shit and Javier anything that had to do with the horses or the land.

Good employees, good friends. They had her back.

They’d had breakfast with Rivera, Jerra and their two loud, crazy kids who definitely took after Mom and Dad and were supposed to be in school but were out to say good-bye to Auntie Dusty. Now the kids were chasing each other on the sidewalk, Jerra and Dusty were hanging on each other, quietly talking and barely holding back tears.

Mike and Rivera were five feet away, giving them time.

Mike put his hand out to Rivera and muttered, “Glad we had this opportunity.”

Rivera took his hand, gripped it and locked shades with Mike, muttering back, “Yeah.”

They dropped hands and looked at the women.

“Jesus, shoulda brought my scalpel,” Rivera mumbled and Mike grinned.

Then he looked at his watch and he said, “We gotta get on the road.”

“Right, I’ll take Jerra, you take Dusty. Plan?”

Mike looked at Rivera and nodded.

Mike started to move to the women but stopped when Rivera called, “Mike?”

He tipped up his chin.

“Take good care of her,” Rivera whispered.

Good friends.

They had her back.

Mike again locked shades with him.

The he replied, “Absolutely.”