Read Texas Wide Open Online

Authors: KC Klein

Texas Wide Open (11 page)

“A man is supposed to take a lot for the woman he loves. And you, my dear boy, haven’t
even gotten into the thick of it.”
Enough was enough.
“You’re crazy,” he said and turned to stalk off. Four steps later he was back towering
over her. “That’s not how it is. I don’t love Nikki. Not like that.”
Suzy rolled her eyes. “Oh please, Jett. If you two would just get it done and over
with, this town would have a lot less to gossip about, and my asthma would have a
lot less to get worked up over.”
“Get what done and over with?”
“Hello! Bumping uglies, horizontal limbo, carnal knowledge—whatever you young people
call sleeping together these days.”
It was like having his mother explain to him about the birds and the bees. Which had
been incredibly disturbing at age sixteen. “Suzy!”
“Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. I see the way you look at her. Can’t
say I blame you—there’s something about her that just draws the men.”
Jett just stood there. “Suzy, are you really saying you want me to take Nikki home
and have sex with her?”
Suzy deflated in an exasperated sigh. “I know politics runs in your blood—I just hope
all of our governmental leaders aren’t as dense as you.”
Jett still didn’t get it.
“Well, I’m usually not for premarital sex, but something has got to give, and confessing
your feelings to her is definitely not the way to go. That’ll have her running faster
than a white-tailed deer at the scent of fire. No, Nikki is gonna need a two-by-four
upside her head in order to get her life turned around. And going by how quick you’re
catching on here, I’m thinking you’re the right guy for the job.”
“I’m not the two-by-four for her . . . or at all. Never mind. This is ridiculous and
putting aside what you think my feelings for her are, she doesn’t think of me that
way. Never has, never will.”
The slap upside his head came out of nowhere. How Suzy had gotten all her sons married
and living respectable lives was no longer a mystery. “Haven’t you ever wondered why
every couple of months she’s inhere? It’s like clockwork. She gets arrested, and you
come bail her out. It’s probably the closest thing she gets to dating you.”
He tried not to think about Nikki that way, and for the most part he succeeded. He’d
learned his lesson all those years ago during that one night in her barn. Afterward,
she’d avoided him for almost two years. There were just so many reasons why he shouldn’t
get involved with Nikki, not to mention the biggest—Cole kicking his ass.
Jett shook his head and stepped out of arm’s reach of Suzy. No, bumping uglies was
not a good idea. But Suzy was right. Mike was also. This town couldn’t continue sugarcoating
things for Nikki. It was time he showed her that continuing down this road could only
lead to real trouble. He was the only man who could teach Nikki a lesson.
Because she didn’t scare him at all.
Chapter 11
From years of habit, Cole opened the front door of the Harris house without knocking.
Even though it was late, he knew the door would be unlocked. The screen banged closed
behind him. “Katie?” he shouted.
After their fight this morning, she should be the last person he would want to seek
out, but he had to know how James was doing. He would’ve been here earlier, but his
mare had started a difficult labor and he hadn’t wanted to leave her. Cole could’ve
called the hospital to check on James, but he wanted to see Katie. He’d know more
by the look on her face than from any information the nurses’ station would give him.
“In the kitchen,” Katie yelled back.
Cole hurried down the tiled hallway. He passed the rarely used dining room with its
solid oak table and chairs, dated brown-shag carpet, and a large set of bull horns
presiding like an ominous god over any seated below. The kitchen was different, a
lived-in space, though quiet since Katie had left. There was the comfortable bar where
Cole and James would have a beer or rather James would and Cole would have an O’Douls.
And the double stainless-steel sink Katie’s mom had insisted on below the picture
window that looked out over the stables.
Katie was at the sink, rinsing a mug and putting it in the dishwasher. She turned
as he came in. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought some hot cocoa would help. Have you eaten?
Can I warm something up for you?”
He shook his head, and for a second his voice failed him. How many times had he come
into this house searching for something, but not knowing what? And here was Katie
looking so right with her hair tucked behind her ears, stray strands defying her attempts
at a ponytail. He swallowed. “I should’ve cooked for you. You’re the one who spent
the day at the hospital.” Cole took a breath, and then asked. “How is he?”
She leaned back against the counter, dish towel in her hands and smiled. “Better.
Much better. He’s going to make it, Cole.”
At Katie’s smile the ice in his belly thawed just a bit. He had a sudden desire to
laugh, but it had been so long he was afraid he’d forgotten how. Instead, he slipped
his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “God, Katie, you don’t know
how scared I was.”
She nodded and bit her lip, but her eyes shimmered. “I know, Cole. Me too.”
Katie’s sigh filled the room, and he followed with one of his own. The relief that
washed over him left him a bit shaky, and his legs played tricks by trembling beneath
him.
Katie fidgeted with the dish towel, finally laying it out on the counter and smoothing
every wrinkle. He could tell she had a hard time facing him, which was fine, since
every logical thread of conversation flew from his brain—a bit inconvenient, since
there were so many things he wanted to say.
He wanted to tell her everything would be all right. He wanted to rest his chin on
top of her head, breathe in the scent of her hair, and just be still in the embrace
of her arms. He wanted to take this moment to be grateful he didn’t have to go to
another funeral, and that James was still with them for a little longer.
Instead, when their gazes caught and he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out.
He’d never been good with words. He’d always gotten them wrong, especially when all
he wanted was Katie in his arms. And by the look in her eyes, he could tell she felt
the same. He didn’t question, just took a step toward her, and Katie flew the rest
of the way. He enfolded her in his arms, and before he could find a reason not to,
buried his face in her hair.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured in her ear, glad he could hide behind her soft tresses, suddenly
afraid to look her in the eye. He held her close, wanting to let his body tell her
what he couldn’t. He wasn’t just sorry about James, or what happened with Sweet Thing,
or about forcing her to run away. He was sorry about not running after her. That most
of all.
She nodded again.
Were her fingers in his hair? He was afraid to hope.
“I know,” she said, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Cole. I didn’t mean what I said.
I was angry. I just . . .” Her voice trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.
They stood locked in an embrace in the middle of the cheery kitchen, and the moments
slipped them past two friends comforting each other and into something else altogether.
He could feel her breath deepen and was afraid it mirrored his own.
Thoughts of how he’d worked all day in the stables, was dirty, probably smelled even
worse flashed across his mind. And thoughts of how he shouldn’t be holding her. Really
shouldn’t have his hands wrapped around her lower back like a lover instead of a friend.
He went to move, he did, but . . . he wasn’t indebted to her father anymore, and she
wasn’t seventeen. And he needed her to know she belonged here with him—always had,
always would. But every time he imagined telling Katie, he saw her walking away. Shutting
him down.
In the end it was Katie who moved. She pulled back slightly and tilted her face up
toward his. Her lips were so close. Perfect, soft, wide—and he watched as they parted
with an invitation plainer than any spoken declaration. He searched her eyes. Whiskey
eyes, heavy with tears, and he bent his head. His lips brushed hers, just a touch
because he wanted to remember this. Before, their heat had burned fast and furious,
and years later the lesser moments had been lost in the fire. But not now, this time
he’d imprint every second in his memory. Never take for granted again.
He could feel her body shift, ease against his as her mouth pressed for more. He tasted
her with the tip of his tongue. She made a soft murmur in the back of her throat.
God, her little noises, her whimpers and moans had tortured his nights, and when he’d
been weaker, had him chasing the tequila just to forget. He could feel the passion
rise between them, and knew it wouldn’t take much for things to go further. But he
wanted to show her he could be gentle, soft, her safe place to land—that there was
a place for them between the fire and the ice.
So he nipped her bottom lip to keep from tasting her fully and pulled back. Her eyes
shone clear as tears slipped from the corners. It took everything he had not to capture
them with his tongue. Instead, her hand came up, fingers brushed at the wetness.
And there, two inches from his face, glistening with more facets than any compressed
rock had a right to, was a diamond.
He counted which finger—third. Which hand—left. And still the pieces didn’t come together.
But the caveman inside him already understood.
His hands gripped her arms. And her face paled.
No. Mine.
Then betrayal so deep he could hear the ripping of his heart. “What the hell is that?”
“Rise and shine, Texas,” Jett said, taking a childish delight in kicking Nikki’s booted
feet. He hated those boots anyway. What self-respecting Texan wore combat boots instead
of cowboy boots?
She woke with a snort, her azure eyes wide as she took in her surroundings. (Yeah,
he knew what color azure was also, though he’d never admit it, even under torture.)
Nikki’s newly dyed hair obscured half her face as she peered out and looked from Jett
to Suzy and then back again. With the back of her hand she wiped the drool off her
cheek and then yawned. “Wow, I really passed out.”
She stood and stretched, making her black tank top inch up to expose a strip of smooth
tan skin at her waist. “Gosh, took you awhile. Were you far?”
It was hard to process that anyone could be this self-centered, but then again this
was Nikki. Jett turned to Suzy. “She’s beyond redemption. I’ve created a monster.”
“What?” Nikki looked him up and down as if seeing him for the first time. “Damn, you
look hot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tux. Let me guess—one of Daddy’s special
dinners. How many old women did you convince to give you a check?” She wiggled her
dark brows up and down like a Marx brother.
Jett seriously thought about killing her. Not highly recommended in a police station
. . . and with a witness. Instead, he grabbed her by the arm and began hauling her
down the hall. His stride was long, but in typical Nikki fashion, she matched him
step for step—for some reason annoying him even more.
They pushed out through the double metal doors of the jail and into the night air.
The slight breeze from the sudden cold front chilled his skin as he dragged her over
to his truck. He pressed his key fob. Years of Southern training had him reaching
to open the passenger door for her. Halfway he stopped. It was time to turn a new
leaf, no more Mister Nice Guy. Instead, he walked back around and hopped in his truck,
letting Nikki fend for herself.
She fended for herself all right by leaning against the passenger-side door and waiting
for him.
He shook his head.
She knocked on the window.
Seriously? He should just leave her as . . . He watched her rub her arms against the
night air.
Where was her jacket? She never did seem prepared for what life threw at her.
No, he wouldn’t ask. Not his problem.
He cast his eyes over her again, sighed, then reached over and popped the door open.
He’d start the tough guy routine soon enough.
Nikki hopped in, turned the heater on, and pointed both vents toward her. “Don’t you
want to at least hear my side of the story?”
“No.” Jett stared straight ahead as he pulled his truck out of the parking lot and
started on the road home. From the corner of his eye he saw her shiver. He reached
over and threw his tux jacket in her lap.
“It wasn’t my fault this time.”
“It never is.”
“I promise. I shouldn’t get arrested just for throwing a drink in some jerk’s face.”
“The charge was disorderly conduct. Suzy said you started a bar fight.”
“The charge will never stick. He and his friends were drinking and you know how bikers
can get. Besides, we both know Bert has always had it out for me.”
“And you have had nothing to do with why Deputy Porter has it out for you.”
“He takes things too personally. It’s his job to keep the peace. I mean, what else
is he supposed to do on a Saturday night?”
“A comment I hope you were smart enough to keep to yourself?”
Nikki sighed. “I seem to have a problem keeping things to myself lately.”
“Hence the thousand-dollar fee.” Jett shook his head. He had said all of this before,
but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. “You have a chip on your shoulder as big as
they come, and a mouth that needs to be washed out. After a while people are going
to stop putting up with it. You’re gonna get yourself beat up or worse—killed.”
“Already happened. Well, not the getting killed part, obviously.” She turned and pushed
back her hair, showing him the side of her face that had been hidden from him. Even
in the darkness of the cab he could see the shadowed color of her swollen cheek.
“Son of a—” but he stopped himself. He wasn’t going to feel sorry for her. She’d brought
this on herself, except that didn’t help the calling in his blood to hunt down whoever
had done this to her. “This has gotta stop, Nik. Hustling pool is dangerous. The money
can’t be worth your life.”
Nikki rummaged through his glove compartment and found a nail file she’d stuck in
there years ago. “It’s easy for you, Jett. Everyone loves you. You’ve never had to
go to school in Goodwill clothes. You’ve never had to Dumpster dive for a pair of
sneakers just so you could try out for the track team. I know what they say about
me behind my back—trailer-trash, half-breed. But you know what, Jett?” She looked
at him, flicked her hair out of her face, and gave him a dangerous smile. “I don’t
give a f—”
He cut her off. “Spare me your foul mouth pity-party. Prove you’re not white-trash
and have a little class, Texas.”
“I
hate
that nickname.”
“I know.”
“And I was going to say flip.” She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, but
he caught the wounded expression in her eyes.

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