Last of the Red-Hot Riders Page 8

  Chapter 7

  Saint picked up his dog from Judy, who gave him a pretty good stink-eye when he went to her house.

  “What were you thinking?” Judy demanded.

  “That I’m tired and you’re tired and we all need to hit the shucks. Where’s my mutt?” Saint glanced around. “And where’s Steel?”

  “Is it Saturday night?”

  “Happens to be Friday.”

  “Then Steel is at his house.”

  Saint wondered how long that was going to last, given the fact that Judy would no doubt have to begin treatments of some kind soon. He knew better than to bring her situation up, though.

  Just as fast, he realized why Steel wasn’t here, on a night when Judy could probably have used the companionship. Cameron was right: Judy didn’t want Steel to know.

  She planned to do the whole thing by herself—the treatments and everything else. Saint took his dog from Judy, staring at the woman he loved liked a second mother.

  “Judy, you know I’m here for you.”

  “And you should be.” Judy glared at him. “I can’t believe you and Steel took Cameron to Ivy’s. She’s my champion rider!”

  “Cameron does what Cameron wants. She’s a big girl. Pretty sure she’d let me have it if I tried to butt in.”

  “Are you aware that Steel had such a good time tonight, was so impressed with Cameron, that he says what Hell needs isn’t a bullfighting female, but a female deputy riding shotgun for him?”

  This wasn’t good news, and it hit Saint hard, right in the chest. “I’m not exactly following you.”

  “Because you don’t want to. You don’t want to think about your pretty little lady friend being in any danger.” Judy snorted. “May I suggest you do something, and fast? Steel’s going to talk to Cameron about it tomorrow.”

  “About becoming a deputy?”

  “And maybe even eventually sheriff. My big adorable lug of a sheriff is fifty-eight. He’s looking to train a replacement, and now, thanks to you, he has his eye on my best girl.” She pondered that for a minute. “I say ‘my best girl,’ but Harper’s coming along quite nicely. Still waters run very deep with that one.”

  “Let’s not borrow trouble. Cameron probably isn’t interested in becoming a deputy.”

  “Or a sheriff,” Judy reminded him.

  He cradled his pup to him for comfort, though he wouldn’t have admitted he needed comforting. “What about the two stooges he’s got as deputies now? Frick and Frack?”

  “Do you have to ask?” Judy shook her head. “Steel thinks Cameron can be the new face of Hell, the woman-friendly face. When I mentioned that that was my idea, except the women were supposed to be bullfighters, not officers of the law, he said Cameron being a sheriff would get Hell a lot more bang for its redheaded buck.” She looked outraged. “He stole my idea, and he wants to poach my girl for his brainstorm!”

  “Ah, Judy, I don’t want to be in the middle of this.” He edged toward the door with Lucky. “Nothing good comes from getting between the sheriff and the mayor of a small town. And I know nothing good will come of me talking to Cameron about anything. If Steel asks her to train as a deputy, or an officer of the law, or one day to think about running for sheriff, that’s between her and Steel.”

  Judy followed him to the door. He gazed at her, trying to detect any changes in her, but she seemed just as determined and strong as ever. Maybe she looked a little tired, but hell, it had been a huge night at the Honky-tonk, and he was whipped himself.

  “And when you talk to Cameron, mention to her that I want her to make a run for me,” Judy said. “Into the big city.”

  He hesitated. “Can’t you ask her yourself?”

  “I can, but I’m hoping you’ll drive her into that big city.”

  He should have seen the hook a mile away. “What are we picking up?”

  “A couple of wigs. Tell her I want them big and sassy. Bigger than Dolly Parton’s.” She laughed. “I wish I knew where Dolly gets her wigs. She’s got some doozies. Good night, Saint.”

  The door closed on him. Then it jerked back open.

  “I assume you know I’m not happy about tonight?”

  “No one’s happy about tonight, Judy. What do you want with wigs?” he asked, knowing full damn well in the pit of his stomach what they were for, but asking in case she wanted to talk about it.

  “For the Hell parade, of course. Tourists aren’t going to come to a little backwater just for a parade—they want their money’s worth. And Hell is all about the drama. I hope you’re getting your costume ready, too, Saint.” She cocked a brow. “You’ll want to be big as life and twice as ugly, as my mother used to say.”

  Well, that wasn’t exactly a tall order in their town. “Good night, Mayor.”

  “Talk to the sheriff ASAP.”

  She closed the door, turned off the porch light. His audience with the queen was over. He went to his truck with Lucky, stuck the box in the front seat. “You’re shotgun rider, but you’re not as pretty as the woman who was warming that seat previously.”

  Lucky eyed him with big brown eyes. “You’re the only thing in my life right now that isn’t giving me a heart attack.”

  Lucky buried his nose in his towel again, unconcerned. Saint shook his head and drove home.

  —

  Saint was shocked to find Cameron’s truck in his drive and Cameron herself perched on the hood, clearly waiting for him. His first thought was, I could get used to this, and his second was that the information he’d just received about her would get discussed sooner or later.

  He got out. “Forget something?”

  “If it’s okay, I’d like to sleep on your sofa.”

  Closing his truck door, Saint tried to think of one good reason why she shouldn’t. His heart was practically jumping for joy at the idea of her cozied up on his sofa, under his roof, not too far from his own room.

  It was a start.

  No, no, no. No starting.

  “What’s the problem at the Honeysuckle Bungalow?” he asked, unlocking his front door as nonchalantly as he could manage, like he wasn’t absolutely delighted to see her.

  Absolutely thinking about sex, too, damn it.

  “Um, Harper has a guest.”

  They went inside, and she took the dog box from him, dropping a kiss on Lucky’s head. Saint tossed his keys onto the kitchen counter.

  “Do I need to ask?”

  “Probably not.” She gazed at him. “Michael’s staying out with Steel. They’re getting up early tomorrow morning to look for turtles in the creek.”

  He went for a beer. “Want one?”

  “Wine?” she asked. She sat on the sofa, gazed up at him with big eyes as he poured her a glass. “If you don’t kick me out, I make a pretty decent breakfast.”

  His stomach rumbled at the thought, or maybe it rumbled because he was hungry for other things the redhead hadn’t yet offered. His whole body felt like it was on high alert.

  “You’re welcome to stay.” He looked at her, curious. “Why would Harper let Declan stay over? I thought there wasn’t anything going on between them.”

  She shrugged. “There may not be. He was asleep on the sofa when I left.”

  “Asleep! That’s the best my brother can do around a beautiful woman?”

  Cameron laughed, set her wine on the coffee table. “Should you be throwing stones?”

  He hesitated, looking deep into her eyes to search for a hidden meaning—an invitation, which he very much wanted to see. “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

  “I don’t know. We already tried that, and neither of us seemed that happy with the results.”

  Oh, she was totally going down the wrong path. He’d been happy, he just didn’t want to scare her away. Okay, he also didn’t want to scare himself, and she definitely had his caution lights flaring. So he grunted, acting immune to her teasing.

  He was anything but immune to Cameron.

  “So I hear through the grape
vine—”

  “Judy,” Cameron interrupted.

  “That she wants you and Harper to go pick out some wigs for her.” He fudged the story a bit, making it into a girls’ outing, leaving himself out. There was no way he was going to let Judy throw them together more than necessary.

  “That’s all she said?”

  Not exactly, but like any guy, he was going to sidestep the details and not feel one bit guilty about it. “I have a guest room.”

  She smiled. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

  He nodded. “It would be awkward having to step around my doorknob-headed brother. Why is he taking up space over at your place, anyway?”

  “He says he needs to protect us.”

  The beer can had been halfway to Saint’s mouth, but he set it back down. “Protect you from what?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Saint frowned. “You know. You’re just not saying.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. He seems to think trouble got stirred up tonight at the Honky-tonk.”

  “That’s stupid. They won’t do anything. The Horsemen are all bark.”

  “Except for when they roofied Declan.”

  “Yeah, but that was harmless. Small potatoes in Hell.”

  She pulled her phone out, pulled up a text for him to read.

  See you in Hell, you stupid red-haired bitch.

  His gaze shot to hers. “Who is this from?”

  “I have no idea.” She returned her phone to the back pocket of her jeans, and though Saint’s gaze followed every sweet curve of her body as she moved, his mind was racing.

  “It won’t be too hard to trace a number. Steel’s got all kind of buddies who do those kinds of things.”

  “I called the number. I got a nice family who claim they live in Chinatown.”

  “San Francisco?”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  This was not good. He knew it and Declan knew it. “It’s the Horsemen. It has to be.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She stretched out, finished her wine. “I’m here with you.”

  His breath caught. His throat tightened, swelled up like a balloon was in it. He looked into her beautiful eyes. Thought about having the sauciest, maybe toughest woman he knew under his roof, so close and yet so far away.

  But, yeah, she was here with him.

  “You look alarmed,” she said, obviously teasing him.

  Oh, she had no idea.

  “So, just to recap,” he said, “my buddy is sleeping on the sofa. No fun and games going on?”

  She shook her head. “They seemed pretty happy to keep a few rooms and doors between them.”

  He grunted. “Probably a good idea.”

  “For us, you mean?”

  She was definitely sending him signals. And he was only human. She sat there looking desirable and hot and sexy, and he was a little loosened up from the brawl tonight. The dog hadn’t moved, tuckered out by his big day and feeling safe lying in a box next to Cameron’s feet, so there wasn’t one single thing keeping him from smooching Cameron’s plump, soft lips.

  Except his conscience. “Yeah, doors and rooms are always a good idea. Keeps everybody honest.”

  She gazed at him, a sweet smile on her face, her head tipped back on the sofa—and suddenly, what little control he had left snapped. He moved forward deliberately, giving her time to jump off the sofa or slap him or do whatever she might decide to do.

  But instead her eyes widened as she reached for him, pulling him close by his shirtfront. Just like that, his mouth was against hers, and it was even better than the first time, because now he’d had plenty of time to think about it and to know that this forbidden fruit was sweet and hot.

  He kissed her again and again, barely breaking for air before once more tasting her and holding her face gently in his hands. She made a little moaning sound, and that shot his self-control to pieces. “You know this is a really bad idea.”

  “It’s such a bad idea,” she agreed.

  “I’m not stopping.”

  “Then don’t.” She pulled him to her again, then climbed up into his lap, straddling him. A groan growled low in his throat, and he moved his hands down her back to cup her very sweet ass. Oh, God, it was better than sweet, it was the perfect size, the perfect shape, all those years of riding paying off in spades. There was so much of her he wanted to touch and taste, but he held back, trying not to let the storm sweep him into an even worse idea.

  There was no room in his life for this woman, or any woman. This was just kissing, two consenting adults making out. Nobody was being hurt.

  There was still plenty of space before this got really dangerous and became something more, something that would screw everything up: his life, their working together, the dynamics of Hell.

  She moved forward, very close to his rock-hard erection, no doubt by accident—but an accident that made him remember that they couldn’t afford to go blindly into a relationship both of them would regret.

  He set her back a little, away from the mother of all erections. “Hey.”

  She smiled. “Hey, yourself.”

  “You’ve got to be up early. I’ve got to be up early.”

  “I’ll make a pot of coffee at the training center. You’ll like my coffee. It’s so strong you could stand a spoon up in it.” She leaned forward, giving him such a sweet smooch he knew his erection wasn’t going away anytime soon.

  But he had to put some distance between them. “Lucky and I have to hit the hay.”

  She looked at him for a long moment, slid out of his lap. Nodded, got up off the sofa. “I really do appreciate you letting me stay tonight.”

  He nodded, carried Lucky outside for one last chance at peeing. Lucky did his business in short order, and when Saint went back inside, the door to the guest bedroom was closed.

  Saint went to his own room, put the box down by his bed. “You stay in the box, young sir.”

  Lucky nested down on the T-shirt and towel, not worried about anything. Unlike me. I suddenly have a lot of things to worry about, not the least of them that sexy-as-hell woman in the next room.

  The one who’d gotten a threatening text message. The one whom Steel wanted to train to fill his boots. The one who’d jumped on a Horseman’s back to protect him tonight. Saint remembered his heart had felt like it nearly stopped when he’d seen her do that in the oversized mirror behind the bar.

  She kissed him so hot his boots practically melted. I knew that was a bad idea. And I know from watching Trace fall that the idea doesn’t get better with time.

  I did not need a hell-raising woman in my life.

  —

  When Saint made it to the kitchen in the morning, Cameron was long gone. So was Lucky—which meant Cameron had come into his room last night while he was asleep. He woke up with a woody and a fierce longing for the redhead who’d deserted his bed. He made some pretty nasty instant coffee, and jumped in his truck to head to the training center.

  He was waylaid by Steel before he could walk in.

  “I want to talk to you,” Steel said, and Saint had the uncomfortable notion that of the many topics he could guess were on the sheriff’s mind, none qualified as an appealing early morning news bulletin.

  “So talk. I’m going to get some coffee. I’ve been promised hot and dark joe, and I need it. The instant I made didn’t cut it.”

  Steel followed amiably. Saint got them both some coffee, took a sip, and mused that if Cameron had made it, she’d certainly kept her promise. “Guaranteed to put hair on your chest,” he said, handing Steel a mug.

  “Got plenty of that.” Steel accompanied Saint into the office, made himself at home in one of the chairs scattered around the big desk. Saint had quickly checked for Charlie, Cameron’s horse, and his stall had been empty, so she’d probably made practice on time.

  So far, so good. His day had started off on a good note, thanks to the smell of strawberry shampoo and a hint of a springlike perfume he’d smelled when he�
�d opened his bedroom door. He could get used to that, he thought, settling back in his chair, kicking his boots up onto his desk.

  If only she didn’t have designs on him to train her—when all he wanted to do was undress her and lose himself in her.

  “What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Saint asked, forbidding his mind to go down the sweetly torturous path it wanted to.

  Steel closed the door behind him, settled back in his chair, put his mug on the desk. “I think Judy’s planning to cut me loose, Saint. Write me the old Dear John letter, as they used to say.”

  Saint choked, midsip. Coffee spewed from his mouth and down his chin to his shirt, baptizing the desk as well. “What the hell, Steel?”

  Steel shrugged. “I think my girl has cooled on me.”

  “No she hasn’t.” Saint wiped at his shirt with a brown paper towel, sighed. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard, first of all, and second, I’m not a romance counselor. I’m the last one you want to be coming to for answers. Hell, Steel, you know I can’t figure out my own love life, much less yours.”

  “I didn’t know you had a love life.”

  That was precisely the issue. “Well, if I did, I’d make a mess of it—you know that. If it’s a listening ear you need, go talk to Hattie. There’s no smarter woman in this town than Hattie. Plus, she’ll give you a piece of cake so heavenly your problems will melt away.”

  A knock on the door gave him a welcome opportunity to shut down this line of conversation. “Come in,” Saint called, perking up when Cameron poked her head inside.

  The fact that she was like sunshine pouring into his sucky day was unfortunate. He didn’t want to feel this way, this sense of joy every time she walked into a room. On the other hand, it was pretty damn sweet how just looking at her, being around her, made him happy.

  “Hi, Steel,” she said, smiling at the big man.

  “Cameron, I want to talk to you,” Steel replied. “Come in and shut the door.”

  Oh, hell, here it came, the opening of the floodgates of Hell. From this moment forward, everything was going to go seriously pear-shaped.

  “I think you have the right stuff for law enforcement,” Steel said to Cameron.