Midnight Wrangler (24 page)

“There is the old house I could move back into,” her mother continued.

Rohn nodded. “It's even cleaned out, thanks to all of Bonnie's hard work. Though she gave most of the furniture away, so you'll need to buy new or bring your stuff from here. I can help you move.”

He looked very happy with this plan. Bonnie, on the other hand, wasn't quite so convinced this would be as easy as he made it sound. “What if I don't get the job?”

“Then you'll look for another one. Or you could take a little time off. Get used to running the ranch with me.” Hope shone through his suggestion.

Waking up every day next to Rohn. Eating breakfast together in his sunny kitchen. His hired hands stopping in for their morning coffee, greeting her with a smile and a
Howdy, Miss Bonnie
. It would be easy to get used to. “I guess I could do that.”

Her mother beamed a smile. “So, it's settled then? Should I call my friend and set up an interview?”

Nervousness had her stomach fluttering, but Bonnie said, “Yes.”

Smiling and looking as happy as Rohn with the plan, Bonnie's mother glanced between them. “When should I tell her to schedule it? When do you plan on heading back to Oklahoma?”

“ASAP,” Rohn answered.

Bonnie laughed at his enthusiasm. “I'll be back in Oklahoma by Saturday, so I guess ask if she can set it up for next week.” She glanced up at Rohn. “I have a hot date for my high school reunion. With my fiancé.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rohn laced his fingers through Bonnie's and felt the diamond ring she now wore. Its mere presence on her finger made him want to ditch this reunion and drive them home. There, he'd carry her up the stairs and tumble her into bed.

That would have to wait for later. Right now, they had a reunion to go to. “Ready?”

She glanced from the school, to him. “As ready as I'm going to be.”

He smiled at her hesitation. There was nothing to be nervous about, in his opinion. He couldn't wait to show her off to the friends he'd lost touch with over the past few years.

He was sure Bonnie's presence on his arm wouldn't be missed by anyone—particularly not the cliquey girls who'd never given her the time of day. Prom queens came and went, but true goodness and beauty inside and out like the kind Bonnie possessed lasted forever.

“I love you.” He bent to press a kiss to her lips.

“I love you, too.” Her words made him smile like a teenager. He wondered how long that reaction would last. How long it would be until he got used to it. He wouldn't mind if he felt like this for the next twenty-five years.

“Come on. Let's go inside.” He tugged her toward the entrance.

It was like stepping back in time. Whoever had planned this thing had re-created their prom night twenty-five years ago perfectly. The same venue. The same decorations. The same music. Thank God the dresses were different. There wasn't a giant butt-bow in the room.

Though, if he remembered correctly, Bonnie's prom dress had been perfect. Just like her.

“Hey, Rohn!”

Rohn turned at the sound of his name being called from a distance, and saw Pete grinning and Brian lift his arm in a wave.

As they came toward him, he felt Bonnie hold on to his arm a little tighter. He glanced down at her and smiled in encouragement. Over-the-moon happy to show her off as his, he dropped a kiss on her forehead as his friends drew closer. He saw the interested looks they gave the woman with him.

“Dude, looking good.” Pete grabbed Rohn in a hug that forced him to let go of Bonnie so he could reciprocate.

“You too, Pete.” Aside from having less hair and more beer gut, Pete looked just as Rohn remembered from the last reunion he'd attended—the ten-year. When Pete pulled back, Brian took his place, slapping Rohn on the back with a one-armed embrace.

“I swear you haven't changed a bit, you son of a gun.” Brian turned his attention to Bonnie, looking gorgeous in a dress that matched the blue of her eyes. “Except for this new addition. And who might you be?”

Rohn rolled his eyes. Brian hadn't changed a bit either. He was still an over-the-top flirt. “This is Bonnie Martin, my fiancée. You should remember her. She graduated with us . . . and grew up just down the road from you.”

Pete's eyes widened. “Bonnie Martin from our class, and she's your fiancée? Dang, you're full of surprises tonight, Rohn.”

Brian let out a laugh. “He sure is. But now I know why he stole that summer job at the Martins' from me the year we graduated. Did you have your eye on her even back then?”

“Yup, I sure did. It just took us a bit of time to find each other, is all.” Rohn knew talking about the past had Bonnie on edge. He felt her hold on him grow tighter and decided to change the subject. “So, you know our story. What's up with you guys? You married? Kids?”

He listened to his friends run down the list of who was divorced and who was still married, who had children, and even grandchildren, until he felt Bonnie tap his arm. He leaned in to hear her over the music.

“I see my friend Melody.”

“Well, let's go say hello to her.” He got a little thrill thinking about Bonnie introducing him to her friend. He turned to Pete and Brian. “We'll catch up with you later.”

“Sure thing.” Brian looked amused as Bonnie led Rohn away, but Rohn didn't care.

Let them think she led him around. The truth was, he'd follow her anywhere. Hell, he'd already proven that with a fourteen-hour drive to Arizona.

Bonnie's friend Melody broke into a wide smile the moment she saw Bonnie coming toward her with Rohn in tow.

She wrapped her arms around Bonnie in a hug. “It's so good to see you here. You and your date.”

Bonnie smiled. “Melody, you remember Rohn from high school.”

“I sure do.” Melody extended her hand and Rohn took it, while she shot Bonnie a sly sideways glance. “How could I ever forget?”

“No, I guess you couldn't, could you?” Bonnie laughed. When she saw Rohn raise his brow, she said, “Melody and I used to have the same lunch period as you did senior year.”

Melody leaned toward Rohn. “Bonnie had the hugest crush on you in high school.”

The information had him grinning. “Oh, really?”

“Melody!” Bonnie squeaked as she shot Rohn a sideways glance. “Melody had a crush, too. On Brian.”

“Did she?” Rohn laughed and tipped his head toward where his friends stood on the other side of the room. “I can bring you over to talk to him, if you want. He's single again.”

“Oh, good Lord, no. I'm happily married now, but back then . . .” Laughing, Melody fanned herself. “Phew, I had a serious crush.”

“We both did.” Bonnie hugged Rohn closer, resting her hand on his waist.

Melody's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of Bonnie's left hand and the diamond ring on her fourth finger. “Is that an engagement ring?”

“Yes.” Bonnie glanced up at Rohn, smiling. “We're engaged.”

“Oh my God.” There was another hug and more squeals and all Rohn could do was watch and smile. “When?”

“Just a couple of days ago, but we're going to wait a bit to get married. My mom has to move back from Arizona. We have to sell the house there.”

Rohn watched Bonnie talking—happy, relaxed, laughing—everything she should be on a night like this. She turned to shoot him a smile as she reached for his hand and laced her fingers with his, and he decided something. His number-one goal, from now until the day he died, would be to keep her as happy as she was right at this moment.

His secondary goal was to make sure they didn't wait too long to tie the knot. They'd waited long enough already to be together.

And his immediate goal was to control himself enough to not sneak her out of here and bring her home where he'd strip off that sexy-as-sin dress and do what he'd never get tired of doing with her.

As Melody talked on about something, Rohn caught the heated glance Bonnie shot him, as if she was thinking the same naughty thing he was.

He smiled. Maybe they would be sneaking off to find some privacy, after all.

Hell, he felt eighteen again when he was with her. They might as well act like it.

Read on for an excerpt from Cat Johnson's
next Midnight Cowboys novel,
coming in March!

 

He needs to escape . . .
Justin Skaggs is on the road to anywhere—
as long as it's far from home—
when fate throws a kindred spirit across his path.

 

She needs to get to Oklahoma
. . .
Phoenix Montagno can't believe her luck
when she runs into the hottie from the bar.
He's the key to her getting everything
she's always wanted, but she can't tell him that.
Luckily he's not interested in learning her story
any more than he is in sharing his.

 

Both have secrets they don't want to share
. . .
It's the perfect arrangement.
No personal details. No talking at all.
Just two strangers sharing the cab of a truck
heading in the direction they both need to go . . .
until they decide to share a bed, too.

 

“The Oklahoma Nights series is a must read.”
—Lorelei James

“Well, look who's here. Justin Skaggs, how the hell are ya?”

Justin paused at the sound of his name, his hand still on the door he'd just pushed open. As he moved into the bar and his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw the guy who'd greeted him before he'd even had a chance to clear the doorway.

Accepting that there was no way around it, Justin pulled out the bar stool next to the man who'd known his family for decades. “Hey, Ray. How you been?”

“Eh, same old thing. Y'know how it is.” The older man, whose clothes reeked of cigarette smoke, hacked out a raspy cough before soothing it with a swallow of his beer.

“Yup.” Justin dipped his head, knowing one thing for certain—that Ray should stop smoking. He should probably stop drinking, too, if he wanted to see his grandkids grow up.

As for Ray's statement about everything being the same old thing, Justin could definitely relate. That was exactly the problem in this town—things were always the same. The same people doing the same things in the same places.

In a community that small there was no avoiding running into people he'd known for most of his life. Folks who knew him and his family's past. Even when he wanted to get away from everyone for a little bit,
especially
when he needed to get away, it seemed he couldn't.

All he'd wanted to do tonight was to be alone. His goal was to get shitfaced on some beer—or bourbon, if that's what it took—and then sleep it off in the truck in peaceful oblivion for a few hours. He obviously needed to drive farther to find a watering hole where no one knew him. Possibly across state lines, and even that might not be far enough.

Justin raised one hand to get the bartender's attention. “Bottle of light beer, please.”

His original plan to consume massive amounts of the hard stuff wasn't going to play out, so he'd have a light one and then leave. One quick beer, a short good-bye, and then he'd get back in the truck and drive until he was so far away no one knew him.

“How's your momma doing?” Ray's tone was imbued with the same undercurrent of sympathy Justin had gotten used to hearing over the past two years.

“Good. Thanks.” Justin hated the question he seemed to be asked everywhere he went. What could he say to answer it?

Certainly not the truth—that his mother, a formerly vibrant woman, was now broken. A complete and utter mess.

His mother was as good as a woman who'd lost both her husband and her oldest son in the span of less than a decade could be.

Both men had been taken way too young, his father ten years ago by a massive coronary and his brother more recently by war.

Some days she didn't get out of bed. Justin would come home from a full day of work at the Double L Ranch and find her in the same pajamas she'd been in when he'd left that morning. Still sitting in the same spot, either on the sofa in front of the television or, on really bad days, in her bed.

Other days, few and far between, she'd made a small attempt at normalcy. He'd come home and find her cleaning or cooking. But those days had become less and less frequent. More often than not, he'd be the one making dinner when he got home from the ranch at night.

As the man of the house—the only one left—Justin did his best to support his mother. He'd bring her food and coax her to eat when she didn't want to. He'd give her space when she looked like she needed that or an ear to bend when that was what she needed most.

But some days, like today, Justin couldn't deal with his own life, never mind his mother's. Lord help him, because he felt like shit when he did it, but those were the days he'd disappear. Fire up the engine in his brother's old truck and drive.

As the bartender delivered the beer Justin had ordered, the door swung open, letting the light of the afternoon inside the sanctuary-like darkness of the bar.

Justin raised the bottle to his lips and drew in a long swallow of the icy cold brew. It slid down his throat, washing away at least a little bit of his stress. If Ray remained quiet, and the bartender kept the cold ones coming, maybe he could stay and hang here for a bit.

“Hey, is that Jeremy's truck I saw parked outside?” The newcomer's statement was like nails on a chalkboard, erasing whatever calm Justin had managed to achieve.

“You driving Jeremy's truck?” Ray asked Justin.

Justin glanced from the guy who'd just entered—Rod, the old-timer who owned the lumberyard—to Ray.

“I like to run it once in a while.” He downed another two gulps of beer, bringing the bottle closer to empty and the time nearer the moment he could leave.

Rod pulled out the bar stool next to Justin. With him on one side and Ray on the other, Justin was penned in. Trapped in polite conversation when all he wanted was to be an antisocial bastard.

“If you're ever looking to sell it, give me a call. I always did like that truck.” Ray's offer was the last thing Justin could take.

Jaw clenched, Justin nodded. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Jeremy was dead. His truck was one of the last things left on Earth that had mattered to him. He'd loved that damned truck. Justin couldn't sell it any more than he could bring himself to take it over and drive it as his, full-time.

Didn't they understand that?

He said he drove it to keep the engine in shape, but the truth was Justin got in it when he wanted to feel close to his brother. And, truth be told, sometimes when he wished he could chuck it all and join his brother, wherever that might be. Even after going to church his entire life, he wasn't so convinced Heaven existed. At least not exactly in the way the preacher said it did.

One more gulp and the beer was empty. Justin stepped off the bar stool and dug in his pocket for his wallet.

“You going?” Ray asked.

“Yup.”

“Put that beer on my tab.” Rod directed the statement to the bartender.

“Thanks, but I got it.” Justin threw a bill on the bar. “See y'all later.”

He didn't wait for change from the bill he'd tossed down, or good-byes from the two men. Instead he yanked the door open and stepped out into the evening air. Only then—outside and away from the oppressive presence of people—did he feel like he could breathe again.

Shit
. He wasn't fit for being around any other living thing today. Maybe he should pick up a six-pack, drive to a field somewhere, sit in the truck, and drink it.

It was coming up on two years since Jeremy had died. Justin knew he'd have to be there for his mother on that day. Hell, for the whole month probably. But now, with over a month left to go before that grim anniversary, he'd give himself this time to wallow in his grief.

Justin would let himself get angry, too. At God for letting a good man die too damn young. At the bastards who'd planted that roadside bomb. Even at Jeremy for reenlisting when he could have been home safe instead of in Afghanistan.

He slid into the driver's seat and stared down at the set of keys in his hand. The truck key. The house key. The key to the padlock on the tool shed in the backyard. Some mysterious key that he didn't recognize; he was starting to wonder if even Jeremy had known what it opened.

Justin ran his thumb over the smooth metal of the ring. It was the same key ring Jeremy had carried in his pocket since the day he'd bought the truck. He'd carried it until the fake leather tag on it that read
Chevy
had worn and frayed around the edges. He'd carried it until he'd deployed that final time.

Knocking himself out of the daze he'd slipped into, Justin reached for the radio and hit the power button. The same station that had been playing the last time Jeremy drove the truck before leaving blared to life.

Justin couldn't bring himself to change the station, just like he couldn't throw out the stack of fast-food napkins stuffed in the glove compartment or the two-year-old, half-empty tin of chew Jeremy had left in the console under the dash.

He turned the key in the ignition and the engine fired to life, rumbling beneath him. It would be better to run it more often than the half a dozen or so times a year that he did. That would keep the tires from getting flat spots or worse, dry rot.

He should be pushing it, too. Taking longer trips at highway speeds to get the fluids circulating and blow the carbon out of the engine.

But there were the ghosts of too many memories in this truck. It hurt to drive it. Then again, it hurt when he didn't drive it, so what the hell did it matter?

It would be good for both him and the truck to gun it. Open up the engine and let the mud fly.

Decision made, Justin threw the truck in reverse, backed out of the space and shifted into drive.

He hit the accelerator, peeling out on the gravel of the lot as he turned onto the main road, heading in the direction of the interstate. He would hit the highway for a few miles . . . or fifty. Let the road heal him for a couple of hours.

Escaping, running away from his problems, was no way to deal with them. He knew that. Any psychologist would tell him that. The grief counselor his mother had agreed to go to a couple of times sure as hell would have.

Justin didn't care what the hell the experts said. He had to do what he had to do. If getting out of town or getting drunk—possibly both—was what he needed to do, then that's what he was going to do. The experts be damned.

Getting away for a little while sounded real good. Finding himself a woman wouldn't hurt, either . . .