“And I understand some nasty stuff has gone down with people who’ve bought that land over the years. It’s changed hands, what, half a dozen times since my grandparents owned it?”
“Yeah. So?”
“So, no one in my family has ever told me what happened when my grandfather died. I’ve heard ‘accident’ and the subject was changed. I understand them not telling me the truth when I was a boy, but them days are long gone.”
Bullard eased back and stretched his arm along the back of the chair beside him. “You asking me what happened?”
Renner met the man’s hard gaze head on. “Yes. I am.”
“Why don’t you tell me what your family has told you.”
“Grandpa was out checking cattle. His horse threw him, and he broke his neck. By the time Grandma found him, he was dead.” He paused. “No disrespect to my late grandma, but the hushed tone whenever this was brought up, gave me the feeling family members suspected she’d somehow... killed him.”
Bullard’s frown morphed into a smile. “Son, is that what’s been eatin’ at you? The fear that sweet Rona Harking might’ve offed her husband?”
“Maybe.”
“We had considered that angle, given the circumstances. But I suspect your family didn’t talk about it simply because it upset your grandma. She got a mite . . . hysterical after she found your granddad. Took a tranq to calm her down after we loaded the body for transport. Anyway, the coroner ruled it ‘death by misadventure’ which comes back to your original question of it bein’ bad luck land.”
“Do you believe it is?”
“Yep. But I’m Crow Indian, so I believe a lot of stuff others don’t.”
Almost word for word what Willie had said, but neither had given him a concrete way to deal with it. “Great. I don’t suppose you have any Crow Indian good luck charms I could borrow to ward off bad juju?”
“Nope. But there are options when you’re ready to hear them.” Bullard jammed his hat on his head and stood. Pointed at Renner’s drink. “I don’t gotta remind you about finding a DD if you decide to have more of those, do I?”
“No, sir.”
“Good enough. See ya around, Jackson.”
Renner was melancholy after Sheriff Bullard left. Lost in thoughts about destiny. Loneliness. Luck. Signs. Family.
The summer he and his dad moved to Kansas, Renner had started working for his dad’s oldest friend, Bostwick “Boz” Sheffield, as a hired hand in Boz’s livestock business. Renner had been a scrawny twelve-year-old, a wannabe cowboy who’d honed his charm simply because he knew it worked on girls, teachers, coaches, friends.
Charm hadn’t impressed Boz Sheffield. Hard work did. So Renner set out to impress the man. Took nine years, but his dedication to the cattle business paid off when Boz offered to sell it to him after Renner’s divorce financial windfall. Boz claimed he wanted to retire, but Renner suspected the sale was Boz’s way of ensuring Renner didn’t blow the cash and his future. Although Boz had never married, never had a kid, Renner was the closest thing he had to a son and he wanted to pass his legacy on to someone he trusted. In some ways, Boz had been the most influential man in Renner’s life.
Renner couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he figured out that his father and Boz were more than friends. Probably always had been. Tim Jackson joined the service, married, fathered a child, lost his wife, traveled the country and after retiring from the air force, he’d returned to his Kansas hometown to face the man—and the feelings—he’d run from. But both Tim and Boz were old school, firmly in the closet, content to let the world see them only as best buds who did everything together.
Those two strong men had raised him to do the right thing, to be respectable, honest, hardworking. It pained him to watch them maintain the lie. They lived in separate houses. They took hunting trips, sometimes just the two of them, sometimes in a group. Three years after Renner bought Boz’s business, Boz and his father were killed in a plane crash coming back from Alaska. Renner’s only comfort was that they’d been together. With the last of his family gone, he’d thrown himself into work. But no matter how hard he worked, he’d always felt as if something in his life was missing.
Catcalls bounced to him in the lonely corner he’d chosen, and he shook off the memory. The crowd had grown and he was debating on whether to order another drink or leave, when he saw the brunette. A dude in a cheap brown Stetson knockoff stepped aside and Renner’s gaze locked on the woman’s profile. She turned and Renner’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He recognized that smirk. Although little else was recognizable about her.
Gone was the straightlaced, straight-faced tyrant he dealt with every day. Tierney looked . . . hot as fire. Her hair, a gorgeous mix of mahogany and mink hues, shone even in the dim bar light. She continued to smile, and damn if his breath didn’t catch. Her cheeks were pinkened. Her mouth looked as soft and lush as a rose petal. Her eyes were dancing with delight . . . wait. Where the hell were those maddeningly sexy smart-girl glasses she always wore?
That brought Renner out of his seat. He watched as the happy-handed cowboy’s touches veered dangerously close to inappropriate and Tierney didn’t notice.
He stealthily bellied up to the bar behind her and lifted his hand to Susan, who nodded and slid a Crown and water across the bar top. He said, “Evenin’, Tierney,” and gulped a drink.
She whirled around on her barstool so fast her hair slapped him in the face.
Oh, fuck him. Not only did she sport a fancy-ass new hairdo, but her shiny tresses smelled like flowers. With the musky undertones of sex. And because he hadn’t gotten laid in a coon’s age, that alluring fragrance made his dick stir.
“What are you doing here?” she asked with unrestrained hostility.
“Same thing as you are. Winding down after a rough week.” He toasted her. “You are one ball-bustin’ boss lady, but I’ll admit, you do get the job done.”
The heat from Tierney’s eyes could’ve scorched his eyebrows.
The young bucks glowered, puffing up their scrawny chests. “Who are you?” brown hat demanded.
“Name’s Renner Jackson. I see you’ve already met the woman who cracks the whip on my ass every day.”
“I didn’t crack it hard enough if it didn’t keep you where you belong,” Tierney snapped. “Don’t you have other people to annoy?”
He laughed. “Nope.”
Brown hat said, “Don’t seem like she wants you here annoying her, so why don’t you buzz off?”
“Yeah, we were here first,” his buddy interjected and took a menacing step closer.
Renner’s humor fled. “You punks don’t know anything about handling a woman like her.” Placing his hand on the back of Tierney’s chair, he got right in the kid’s face. “So why don’t you take a hike and stick to the high school girls who prefer ball-less wonders such as yourselves and leave her to a real man.”
The cowboys exchanged a look and backed off. “Uh . . . She’s all yours.”
Goddamn right she is.
Then all five foot five inches of pissed-off Tierney was crowding him. Except her hooker boots added a good four inches to her height, putting her mouth in direct line with . . . holy hell, since when did she have such sweet tits?
“Handle me?” she repeated. “What makes you think you can handle me?”
Somehow Renner dragged his eyes up to hers. Christ. Her eyes were potent, a rich cherry brown. But when she was angry, which frankly was all the time around him, the reddish tint gave her a demonic look. And damn if that didn’t make him crazy hot for her too. “I was only trying to help.”
“Help?”
In his peripheral vision, he noticed the glass clutched in her hand. He curled his fingers around her wrist and squeezed, forcing her to let go. “Tossing another drink in my face, sweetheart, is a big no-no.”
“Too bad I’m not armed like the rest of the people in Wyoming. I’d just shoot you and put you out of my misery.”
He laug
hed and dropped a ten on the bar. Then he grabbed her coat off the barstool and headed for the door.
Tierney didn’t catch Renner until they reached the end of the entryway. She jerked her coat from him. “Give me that.”
“Put it on. Then we’re out of here. This is not the place for someone like you.”
“Someone like me? Meaning what?”
Renner’s gaze tracked her body as she covered it with her long wool coat. “Look at yourself. All tarted up to troll for losers.”
“Tarted up? Who even uses that archaic phrase? My God. You are such a Neanderthal.”
“Where are your glasses? Could you even see them low-class yahoos were tryin’ to feel you up?”
“Did you ever consider I wanted those yahoos to feel me up?”
That retort got a surprised look from him.
“But no, you didn’t care what I wanted. You bulled your way in, scaring them off with the macho bullshit about me being your boss—as if anybody could ever tell the almighty Renner Jackson what to do—and then you announced what a total ballbuster I am . . .” Tierney froze as something occurred to her.
Renner pointed at her. “See? You know I’m right.”
“First, you’re never right. Second, I finally get it.”
“Get what? Why I’m dragging you outta there?”
“No, now I know what that term means.”
“What what term means?” he demanded with exasperation.
“Cock blocker. You were a cock blocker tonight. I had two potential cocks on the line and you came in swinging your dick to prove yours was bigger.”
Renner’s mouth fell open.
Tierney’s satisfaction at stunning him boosted her courage to punctuate each word with a finger poke to his hard chest. “I. Don’t. Need. Another. Man. In. My. Personal. Business.”
When his eyes narrowed in that familiar way, indicating he was about to lash out, she muttered, “Screw this. And screw you.” She hightailed it out the main bar door. Her boot heels clicked as she crossed the asphalt parking lot.
Before she disengaged the locks, she was spun around. With her back against her car, Renner was in her face, crowding her body with his.
“You have no fuckin’ idea how sexy that bitchy little attitude of yours is, do you?”
Was he drunk?
“No, I’m not drunk. I’m frustrated as hell and the screw you comment was a little out of character for you.”
“Oh, so you can hear me mutter? But you ignore me when I talk directly to you?”
Renner flashed his teeth. “I listen to you when it warrants it.”
“Then listen up. Move.”
“No. Fucking. Way.”
“What is your problem?”
“My problem?” He laughed derisively. “You. I see you every goddamned day in those high-dollar, high-collar professional business suits. Then add those brainy-girl glasses to cement the ‘she’s out of your league’ impression you convey to me at every opportunity.”
Tierney couldn’t believe her ears. Was that a compliment? Or an insult?
“Tell me how I’m supposed to react when the Tierney I see off the clock is not the Tierney I know from work.”
His mouth was so near hers that his every angry breath puffed across her lips. “You don’t know me because you’ve preferred to judge me on the surface.”
“So I should’ve knocked you off your damn high horse to get to this ‘real’ Tierney months ago?”
Tierney rolled her eyes. “Does every phrase you use have to contain a barnyard animal reference?”
“God. You piss me off to no appreciable end.”
“The feeling is mutual.”
“Oh yeah? What about this? Is this mutual too?”
The man was babbling. “Is what mutual?” she demanded.
“This.” Renner crushed his mouth to hers. His rough hands were on her cheeks, holding her in place as he kissed her.
Dear God, did the man know how to kiss. Soft and then hard. Wet and hungry. He took what he wanted. Kissing her with passion laced with provocation. Building one kiss upon another, and another, until they were both short of breath and had to break free in order to suck air into their oxygen-deprived lungs.
But Renner didn’t push away from her. He pressed his damp mouth into the section of skin in front of her ear. Then his lips moved up the side of her face. Slowly. Like he was savoring the moment.
As Tierney felt him vibrating against her, she knew his reaction had shaken him to the core. Because it was so totally unexpected. Or because it was unwanted?
The next thought immediately cooled her libido; Renner hadn’t acted on his supposed attraction to her until she looked nothing like herself. She shoved him away.
“Hey, what are you doin’?”
“Getting out of this screwed-up situation and going home.” She held up her hand when he started to protest. “I get it, okay? You thought if I didn’t look like the woman you’d called daddy’s pet monkey earlier today, then maybe I’d act differently too. Well, guess what? I’m exactly the same.” She swung the car door open so fast it would’ve clipped his stupid head if he hadn’t moved.
“Now wait just a damn minute, Tierney—”
“No. It’s over and done with. Go away, Renner, and leave me alone.”
“Fine. I’ll drop it for now. But this ain’t over.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Come on, cupcake. Time to get up.”
Janie rolled to her back, trying to get closer to her husband’s low, sexy rasp.
The bed dipped as he sat next to her hip. “You’re going to be late.”
She stretched her arms above her head. “Crawl back in here and we’ll play hooky. Surely Hank can handle chores so you can spend time with your wife?”
No response. But she felt Abe tense beside her.
Janie opened her eyes. She wasn’t in the bedroom she’d shared with Abe. He wasn’t waking her up so she could drive to Casper. Abe wasn’t her husband.
Talk about déjà vu.
Or maybe wishful thinking?
The sheet had dropped, exposing her upper body from neck to hips. Abe’s eyes weren’t on her face. His focus was on her nipples. “Glad to see you still sleep in the buff.”
She yanked the covers up. “What are you doing in here?”
“You eyeballed my chest last night, so I figured turnabout is fair play.”
Janie smacked him with a pillow. “Scram so I can get dressed so I’m not late for work.”
Conversation was minimal on the ride to the Split Rock. Janie opened the truck door, but Abe was right there, helping her out of his monster rig.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“Call me when you’re done tonight and I’ll come get you.” Abe ran his finger down her jaw, and she shivered discreetly from his unexpected caress. “I wish you’d take another day to rest.”
“I’m fine.” She danced a little jig to prove it. “See?”
“Just be careful and watchful. I don’t want nothin’ bad happening to you.”
Because his concern flustered her, and comforted her, she fiddled with the top button on his shearling coat when she asked the question that was on both their minds. “What does me living with you again mean for us?”
Abe tilted her face up and looked into her eyes. He brushed his lips over hers. “It means we’re not done. We never were. See you later, cupcake.”
And Janie’s day just got weirder from there.
Tierney waltzed in sporting a sexy new hairstyle.
Renner showed up late, in a lousy mood, which Janie attributed . . . to Tierney’s new rockin’ hairstyle for some odd reason.
Lisa, hired to clean rooms and fill in as needed, broke a stack of plates. Twenty custom ordered, gold-rimmed dinner plates, smashed to smithereens at Janie’s feet. When Lisa had burst into tears, Janie assured her she wouldn’t dock her paycheck for the breakage. Which somehow opened Lisa’s conduit to God. The woman almost started spe
aking in tongues—she freaked Janie out.
Two reservations were cancelled.
Willie kept mumbling about bad spirits.