Breaking A Bad Boy Page 17

  Miller, Brandon and Stephen pulled, holding onto the bottom of the air conditioning unit while he and Matt hoisted it up and forward. Amidst grunting and a few curse words, they picked up the HVAC unit and walked it over to the side of the trailer.

  “I’ll have this connected before you can say ‘hit the road.’ Not that you’d want us to.” Stephen winked, taking hold of the grey electrical cord and removed a pair of needle-nosed pliers, stripping the electrical lines down to copper wire.

  “We’ll be by tomorrow and pour a cement pad for the HVAC unit,” Brandon remarked. “Any ideas about when you might begin building?”

  “Soon.” He answered, unwilling to delve into the details of why he’d rushed to get the trailer set up and still didn’t have a proper fiancée. If Sommer didn’t commit, he’d have to make the decisions on where to build and the type of house. Alone. He needed to settle his future, aside from the house. He couldn’t go on in this state of wanting a woman so bad that he couldn’t eat, sleep, or stop thinking about her.

  “At the rate you’re moving, you’ll to have a house by Christmas.” Brandon went to the electrical box on the side of the trailer and began unscrewing the bolts as Stephen readied the connection. Matt and Miller joined them.

  “Actually, hoping by Halloween. Definitely before Thanksgiving,” he said, foreseeing his immediate future. His projection meant he’d be huffing it for the next three months. “But I ain’t expecting the rest of you to stop what you’re doing and help.”

  Everyone had stopped momentarily, and were all staring at him.

  “Bullshit,” Matt replied. “We do things collectively around here. All you have to do is figure out what you want. The builder will do the majority, but we can handle the odds and ends. Didn’t we do that already, times four? Now, it’s your turn, little bro.”

  Miller turned to him. “I’m in. Not even a consideration…but what’s the rush? Are you and Sommer expecting?”

  Lifting off the HVAC unit, Stephen blew out a loud breath, but said nothing, tossing up the pair of pliers into the air, before he caught and pocketed them. The next day after the barbeque, Stephen had asked him what the hell the exchange that went down with Jen and Mike was all about. And in one sentence, he’d supplied his brother with the information that he and Sommer hadn’t done anything—ANYTHING—and were getting ribbed. In line with Stephen’s customary reaction, he’d stared back silently and nodded. His brother finally responded with, “You ever need help in hammering the cocksucker, say the word. I’ll help you make sure, that asshole understands when a McLemore says to back the fuck off, we’re dead serious.” He and Stephen hadn’t talked further on the matter.

  Since that night and now with the sun beating down, Rory kept his focus entirely on one extreme mission: getting his place up and running. “The only thing we’re expecting is a place that isn’t a hundred degrees in the shade,” he said.

  “Point taken.” Miller nodded. “C’mon. These air conditioning supply lines aren’t going to get connected by themselves.”

  “Anything you want to discuss?” Brandon asked. “Besides power and water. This is your first place.”

  “Naw,” he retorted and picked up one package of flex tubing. “I’ll take the front.”

  “I got the back,” Matt said, shrugging.

  “Leaves the middle for me,” Miller said, kneeling down and preparing to crawl under the trailer.

  AFTER fitting all the supply lines to the vent boots under the trailer, Rory and his brothers shared a Bud. When they split, he returned to his truck and brought in the bags Momma and Miss Louisa had packed, insisting he take them. He made a couple of trips out to his truck, bringing in the things those two women had sworn he’d need. Of course they were right. From a roll of paper towels to light bulbs, his mom had loaded him down with an assortment of things, and he’d tried like a fool to argue. He’d planned on paper plates and plastic cups, but now he had towels in the bathroom and even a bottle of dish soap on the counter, and he suspected his Momma and Miss Louisa were out right now, shopping for more of the ‘basics.’ That’s what he’d witnessed before with his brothers—guess Matt was right. It was his turn, and why argue with a tradition that might spur town gossip, but wouldn’t trash a reputation? He had enough to deal with on that front.

  Finally the soft rapping knock he’d been waiting for sounded at the door. He closed the kitchen cabinet, taking wide-spaced steps across the small living room, and had to remind himself to refrain from blasting open his front door. He stopped at the doorway as his chest cracked open at the sight of catlike amber eyes peering up at him. “Baby, you look good enough to eat,” he growled.

  Sommer held up a bottle of champagne. “Hope you’re gonna be over the moon happy here. Gosh darn, Rory.” She smiled. “You really go the distance.”

  “Not just me. My brothers are a force to reckon with.” He stepped outside and scooped her up into his arms. “Come on inside.”

  She gasped. “I tried to call, but your phone rang and rang before going to voicemail.”

  “Left it back in the ranch office. It’s been nonstop since quitting time today. But in a couple of hours, things got set up. Electricity, water,…” He paused as he came through the door and pulled it shut. “And air-conditioning. Plus a blanket for a floor picnic,” he said, walking by the quilt.

  “I can’t believe it,” Sommer squealed.

  “Believe,” he replied, then added, “And thanks to you, a bottle of champagne.”

  “Another is out in my car for us to enjoy along with our picnic basket. This one is to christen your new home.”

  “This one is just temporary,” he said, setting her down by the sink. “Unlike us.”

  She placed the bottle on the counter and then faced him again, her brows drawn tight. “Rory,” she said, her voice hoarse. “We’re making progress. But what if you found out something about me…something terrible?”

  “Don’t start that,” he said, placing his hands on either side of her, resting his palms on the counter. “Did you rob a bank on your way over?”

  “What if I had?” she asked him, her eyes shooting off sparks and making his cock hard, whenever she took that tone of wanting him to come a step closer. Sommer with her golden, gorgeous looks, and tonight with her hair down, wearing a short red dress that dipped low in the front…she was a wild, whisper swimming in his blood. One he couldn’t ignore and no longer had the power to withstand.

  “Then hell, girl,” he growled, his voice dipping low. “I’d hide you and never let you go.”

  “Babe,” she said, biting her lip for a beat, until she moved, shaking her head and making her long mane of hair fly upward, caressing his arms. “I’m serious.”

  He raised his hands, feathering his fingers on either side of her face, looking down and locking his gaze with hers. “So. Am. I.”

  Pressing his hips forward, he moved against her, already knowing this was a piss poor idea if he was trying halt himself from going all shades of crazy with Sommer. “I need to shower,” he murmured against her mouth. “And you’re too beautiful to get wet. Looks like you got cleaned up before you came over.”

  “I did, cowboy. Just for you,” she replied, wriggling her body against him. “Go get yourself cleaned up and I’ll get our picnic ready.”

  “Be right back,” he said, not wanting to back away from her. He wondered if he should tell her he’d broken down and bought a box of condoms. If he broke his word, he wasn’t about to get her pregnant, if she truly didn’t want to get married. His hunger was a ticking time bomb after that night in the hotel when he’d came so close to thrusting into Sommer. His ego wasn’t that huge. He all too well saw the writing on the friggin’ wall. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to resist her. And now he had his own place. She was right. He was wrong.

  Had nothing to do anyone except Sommer. For nearly five years, he’d desired her. Jacked off with her in mind. Had said her name as he came so many times, it was ridiculous. And rig
ht now, they had to figure out where they were headed. He was losing his train of thought, his temper was ready to flare, and his cock hardened and literally hurt whenever she came into view.

  He bent over and sucked on her bottom lip, before releasing her. “Make yourself at home,” he said, finally backing away. “Soon, I want this to be your home. Out here with me.”

  “I know,” she said. “I wish so much that this is our future. Yours and mine. No one else.”

  God, in a second he saw that she was as close to the edge as he was. He almost couldn’t leave her standing there, looking like she was so fragile, she’d break—splinter into a million pieces. What the hell was his word worth anyway, if he couldn’t see that his pigheadedness was causing them buckets of pain? More pain, instead of less. That’s not how people with a lick of sense handled a world filled with chaos. He’d assumed he knew what was best for him and Sommer, even after having a discussion with Brandon about the virtues of assuming things, like leadership. He’d assumed all right. Only problem was, he’d presumed to be the only leader, and had effectively circled around to being nothing more than an egotistical jackass.

  Fuck. How can I crave to devour Sommer more than my next breath, and at the same time, want to protect her from this world?

  SHOWERING in the tub with no shower curtain in place drove home the idea that yeah, he needed more than paper plates and cups the next time he went into town. Guess he’d start a list of what were absolute requirements. After he had to use the dish soap to bathe with, he had an idea of more than a couple of things to add to his list. Another first. Didn’t seem like anything Sommer would want to include on that hot list of hers.

  What the heck had she called it?

  Some sort of laundry list.

  He changed into shorts and walked down the hall toward the living room, his towel draped over his shoulders, catching the water dripping from his hair. “Hey baby, what did call that list of firsts—” Rory stopped. “God. Girl, you’re more than beautiful.”

  “DLL,” she answered. “Short for my dirty laundry list. You want to do something to add to that list?”

  “Hundreds of things,” he replied, crossing the room, and his mind on lock-down as his blood rushed into his dick with the force of stampeding cattle.

  Sommer had a tablecloth spread over the quilt with a picnic basket off to the side. Fried chicken was laid out, plus all sorts of small containers of sides—but it was the sight of her, in an apron and without her dress that had him tied up in a knot. The open sides displayed the curves of her tits, and she had the thing tied so tight, the tops of her nipples teased him at the neck. She was on all fours, wearing a thong, and her ass cheeks were fully enticing him. From his vantage point, the ties of the apron spilled over her luscious hips and down the cleft of her ass, a pathway for his eyes to travel.

  “Hottest. Apron. Ever. That goes on your list. For sure!” He looked around for some place to toss his towel, and ended up dropping the damn thing as he knelt. He needed something to occupy himself with, or no way this side of hell could he ignore his hunger that had nothing to do with food. “Hand me the champagne, sugar.”

  “Let’s go christen your place,” she said.

  “No way am I letting you go outside…dressed like that,” he scoffed.

  “There isn’t a person for miles.” She laid her hand on his arm and laughed.

  “We’re a stone’s throw away from the pond. Someone—”

  “No one is around,” she said, standing up and holding her hand out to him. Okay, now the sexiest apron became a hundred degrees hotter still with those high heels she had strapped to her ankles.

  He reached for her fingers, but in lieu of getting up, he pulled her down to him. “How about we both follow some directions,” he growled. “I learned early. Maybe you need a lesson or two.”

  “Huh? I don’t follow.”

  “That’s my point. Follow mine and I’ll follow yours. See here, your apron says kiss the cook.” He trailed his fingers along the neckline and abruptly drew her closer, devouring her mouth. When he managed to relax his grip on her, he pulled back and swallowed, staring down into her eyes. “I want to do more than just kiss you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Never been more certain,” he replied. “Tonight’s the night. If you’re game.”

  Bam-bam-bam. They both looked toward the door. “Are you expecting anyone?” Sommer squeaked.

  “Not a soul…but this is Evermore.”

  He stood with her in his arms and released her. “I’d better go change,” she replied. “And you’d better do something about…that.” She pointed to his tented shorts.

  “Okay,” he said, adjusting his cock and watching her slip away down the hall with her dress in her hands. He’d trounce whoever was on the other side of his door.

  Gritting his teeth, he had ten excuses ready to roll off his tongue to get free of his uninvited guest. Opening the front door, he gripped the knob in his hand, and stared back at his brother. “What the heck do you want?”

  Brandon held out his cell. “You need to hear this message on your phone. I didn’t mean to play it. It went off.”

  Rory stepped outside and closed the door. “What the hell Brandon…this couldn’t wait until tomorrow morning?”

  “Not with what you’re up to in there. Take this,” Brandon said in a steely voice, thrusting the cell into his hand. His brother’s eyes were hard, and his whole demeanor seemed on edge. “Listen to the message. Don’t play it out loud”

  Rory held up the phone and pressed the play icon. The voice on the message was Sommer’s…but this message didn’t come from her. He shook his head. A butt dial, from what he could tell, and wondered what was the point as he listened to some dude coming into the ink parlor for a tattoo. “You interrupted me with this?”

  “Listen,” Brandon retorted.

  He did as his brother suggested. “Holy fuck,” he snarled when the call finished and he felt his mind churn. Over and over, one fucked up concept: he was going kill that cocksucker, Mike Harris. “Sommer is being blackmailed. Naw, this isn’t gonna happen.”

  “We need to do something about it, but this is your life. Your call.”

  His whole body was ready to explode into a fury of raging vitriol. His muscles knotted over his bones as the breath froze in his lungs. He wanted to get a rifle and go find Mike and that other man. Carlo. He tore his gaze away from Brandon’s face and over to the empty field, unable to stow this rocketing anger and frustration, and seeing all too clearly how he’d contributed to the wholly fucked up mess.

  He curled his fingers into fists and spat out, “Can’t say I don’t have a hand in this. Blame can stop right here, at this doorstep. If I hadn’t made those bets with Mike, the motherfucker wouldn’t have the credence he does. I opened the doorway.”

  “Don’t go there,” Brandon said. “What’s done is done. Now we gotta make this right.”

  “How? I’ll go to the ends of the earth for Sommer. But you already know that,” he replied.

  “How much did you win?”

  “Not more ‘en a couple thousand.”

  His brother’s eyes widened. “Shit, Mike just rolled into town. You ever lose?”

  “Not once,” he said, shaking his head in disgust at the thought of his past winnings and what that meant. “But I didn’t get into it like it was anything other than a fucking past time. Shit, nothing serious. Not like other folks. And Mike isn’t the only one taking bets around town.”

  “But he’s the only grifter I’d bet. Faking that he’s from around here. That’s what those pricks do. They hear of a place that’s easy to take and they come on through. We never would have known it, without this proof.”

  “Well, what are we going to do? Go to the police? They’re not equipped to deal with these SOBs.”

  “This would be an FBI matter and we’ll talk tomorrow. Push comes to shove, we might need to get Miller involved. He helped me out before.” Bran
don leaned against the side of the trailer.

  Rory recalled when Mia went missing. The police sure as hell didn’t lift a finger, late on a Sunday evening. Not around here. “What if Sommer’s already told Mike she wasn’t going to do it?”

  “To save her father, I doubt she’d be able to say no. It’s twisted, fucked up. No way around it. Look, I didn’t mean to interrupt you and her, but I thought you might want to know…in case. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.”

  “I’m not letting her leave tonight,” Rory growled. “Thanks for coming by and being fucking nosy enough to care.”

  “I got your back. Same as you for me.” They bumped fists.

  “Always,” Rory said, scrubbing his hand along his jaw.

  Brandon stepped off the porch and said over his shoulder, “That’s what being a brother is all about.”

  CHAPTER 14

  INSIDE RORY’S BATHROOM, Sommer stared at herself in the mirror after she’d fumbled with the strap of her dress and couldn’t tie a bow to save her life.

  She dropped the strap and focused on her trembling fingers. Okay, let’s can the over the top reaction. Or did her ridiculous body forget that once Rory found out about this awful bet she’d agreed to be part of, he’d tell her off so fast, her head would do a complete revolution around her neck?

  This wouldn’t end as just another temporary break up. After this, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her ever again. Her pulse raced—deafening heartbeats thundered in her ears. With each beat, her stomach twisted tighter. Smart stomach.

  Seconds ago, Rory had been rock-hard, aroused, and he said—HE SAID—he’d wanted to do more than kiss. It wasn’t like she was some femme fatale out to take advantage of an innocent. For once, she was overjoyed he was a McLemore, coming from a long line of badasses, enough to fill up the Diamond. Rory understood all too well how to make her lose her mind. She wasn’t teaching him a thing. Most assuredly, if there were a teacher here, it was him.