12 Borrowing Trouble (19 page)

Well, in Sharon’s eyes anyway.  And even though he tried to seem aloof and distant, unattached, he was caring, and compassionate.  He didn’t really know her or Chris, yet he’d stepped in to help them.
  As aggravating as the sexy cowboy was, Sharon was right. 

H
e was a good man. 

And Chris seemed to hang on his every word.
  That was good and bad at the same time.  Good that Chris felt comfortable talking to an adult male.  Maybe Dylan could find out why he was doing the things he was doing, where she couldn’t.  But if Chris got too attached to him, and Dylan left, he’d probably be heartbroken.  Maybe even revert back to the same bad behavior he was at this place to fix.

As soon as my shoulder heals, I’m going back to the rodeo
.

She couldn’t make
Dylan stay away from her son when he was so good for him.  But she could keep her own heart from engaging, so she could be strong for Chris, if that happened.  The last thing she needed was to end up heartbroken herself when he rode off into the sunset.  It would be the same scenario she dealt with after Sean died.  Picking up the pieces for herself and her children at the same time had been impossible.  And she hadn’t done a good job of it.  She had been too overwhelmed with her own grief to see what was happening to her children. 

That’s why her son was here today.
  And that was why, even if they had sex again, she wasn’t going to let herself get attached to Dylan Thomas.  She’d given up on the idea that they wouldn’t have sex again.  After this game he was playing with her, that was almost a certainty.

If he decided he wanted to have sex, she would say yes.  But dammit, she wasn’t begging like he wanted her to.  Absolutely not doing it, no matter how much he tortured her.

“Here you go, Carrie,” Sharon said softly, as if she were repeating herself.

Carrie jerked out her thoughts, and took the glass.  “Thank you,” she said then swigged down the whole glass.  It soothed as it slid down her parched throat, and she sig
hed.  “Lord, that’s good,” she said with a laugh.

Sharon studied her a moment, then sat on the coffee table across from her and said,
“You’re gonna be good for him.”

Carrie’s eyebrows knotted and her hand gripped the glass tighter.  “For Chris?” she asked in confusion.

“For Dylan.  I saw how he looks at you,” the older woman said, looking down at her glass, as she swirled her tea with the ice cubes.

“He’s just helping us,” Carrie
protested swiftly, her heart shooting up to her throat.  “Please don’t borrow that trouble ma’am.  I have enough on my plate as it is.”

The woman smiled, and patted her knee.  “
Alright, I’m sorry for being a prying old woman.” Sharon added tinkling laughter for punctuation, then her face turned serious.  “Let’s talk about the rules then…”

Carrie sat forward and listened intently as Sharon ran down the rules of the ranch.  The boys were only allowed one phone call a week, unless they did extra chores to earn an additional call.  The
y had to be in bed by nine, and there were no televisions or video games in the bunkhouse.  If they didn’t get demerits for the week, they were allowed one hour of television on Thursday night in the main house.  The boys all ate supper together, had devotional time together, and showered together in the communal shower outside the bunkhouse.

“I don’t know if you’re interested, but
I saw in the file the court faxed that Chris was expelled from his last school.  We also offer a home schooling program for students who don’t fit into the regular school system.  You might want to consider that for at least this school year.”

Carrie bit back a groan.  Taking
Chris out of the regular school system had been just the thing she had been trying to avoid.  When she moved to her parents, she had gone down to the school to speak with the principal, had gone before the school board with Chris, just to get them to take him.  It had been a very close vote.  Only one vote decided they would allow him there.  That had been from the oldest member of the group, who had been a family friend for many years.  She had no idea how things would go at the school system that served the R & R Ranch.

She might not be so lucky, but she was at least going to try.

“We have time yet, before school starts.  Let’s just play that by ear,” Carrie said, trying to keep the fear from her voice. 

“Okay, one final thing…” Sharon said, looking down at her hands. 

That couldn’t mean she was about to say anything good.  Carrie held her breath.  “Dylan and Billy are having a talk with Chris.  He’s being told that he has one chance.  This is his only chance to turn things around.  If he messes up, one time, he won’t be welcome here.  I’ll have to file a report with the court, and it probably won’t go well for him at his hearing.  I have to report to them monthly.  The judge remanded him here, and the state is paying for him to be here.”

“I understand,” Carrie said, with her breath
coming out in a whoosh.

“Well, they’re making sure Chris understands that too.  He either cooperates and abides by the rules here, or we can’t help him.”

One time. One mistake.  Chris had made so many since Sean died.  Emotion built behind her eyes and Carrie sucked in a shuddering breath, saying a mental prayer that Chris did turn things around.  “Thank you for helping him.  Please call me if you need anything.  If he needs anything.”

Sharon patted her knee sympathetically.  “We will.  What you can do for him is get yourself some help too.  Get into counseling so you can be the mother he needs when he gets this behind him.”

Carrie nodded, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen until she got her finances under control.  To do that, she needed to get back to the ranch so she and Terri could talk about the events that were coming up.  “I’ll do that soon,” she promised, as she stood.  Sharon stood too and pulled her into a warm hug.

“Stop worrying, he’ll be fine.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Carrie stood at the counter in the kitchen of the ranch house reading the directions from her new cookbook to make her first scratch cake.  She was going to teach herself to bake professional cakes if it killed her.  This wasn’t for a party, it was a learning experience.  And Zane Lawrence would be her guinea pig.  According to Terri, his birthday was tomorrow.

She owed him a huge thank you for helping her move on Tuesday anyway.  He’d done most of the heavy lifting and loading.  Dylan hadn’t done much but get in her business.  And drive her crazy with those damned vibrating panties.
 

On the way back to the ranch, Dylan had been quiet.  Eerily quiet.  So quiet, she’d gotten worried something was wrong with him.  Or with Chris.  He kept assuring her he was fine, and Chris was fine too.  He
told her he was just thinking. 

Well his thinking made her nervous
.  More anxious than she’d ever been in her life.  He forced her to sit beside him up front.  To smell his musky outdoors scent, feel his heat.   But he didn’t touch her.  Or make a move to put his hand in his pocket.  The expectancy that he would at any moment kept her squirming on the seat the whole way home. 

Her body was practically buzzing with anticipation by the time they got
back to the ranch.  Carrie waited for Dylan to help her out of the truck again like he had at New Hope.  Wanted him to, but he didn’t.  Neither did Zane.  They promptly began unloading the truck, and left her stewing in her juices.

When Carrie went inside,
Terri was waiting for her.  Terri asked how it went with Chris, and Carrie thought she mumbled the correct answers.  She was so distracted watching Dylan as he walked in and out of the house unloading things, she couldn’t be sure.  When Terri brought up the upcoming events, Carrie just couldn’t focus anymore. 

All she could concentrate on was Dylan’s location in proximity to her.  That joy button’s proximity to her panties. 
Her agitation grew with every second she waited for him to seize the chance to make her dance on his string in front of Terri like he had Sharon.  This would be the prime opportunity for him to see how much she could take before she broke.  He had to know she was so primed it wouldn’t take much. 

She got wet just thinking about it.  Waiting for it. 

But he hadn’t taken it.  After he made the last load, Dylan walked right past her without a word, out the front door, and he and Zane headed to the bunkhouse. 

Carrie
had been a little disappointed, and more than frustrated.  But she didn’t relax her guard.  It would have been just like him to lull her into a false calm, then come back to zap her.  She remained on edge until she got to her room and removed the panties to wash them with her in the tub.  Until then she held out hope he would come back to harass her after he showered. 

She was pissed at herself for hoping
when she finally went to bed.

The next morning, Carrie put the panties on and took them off three times, before she finally left them on.  That had been hours ago, and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Dylan yet.  All morning she had been just as agitated as if he were standing there pressing the button. 

The waiting was driving her insane. 

She wanted him to get his butt over there with that remote and put it to use.  It wouldn’t take much.  She was so amped up now, he could probably blow on her and she’d come.  One zap on the low setting and she would be wailing.  But it looked like he planned on keeping her wondering, to keep her in sensual agony.  Carrie was going to do the job herself last night in the tub, but after turning her closet upside down, she realized the bastard had confiscated her toy bag. 

He’d done that on purpose, because he knew
how she was feeling.  Letting her have that silver bullet to find her own release wasn’t in his plans.  From experience, she knew her own hand would not do the trick, so she didn’t even try. 

Dylan
wanted control.  To torture her mentally, until
he
decided to let her have an orgasm. 

He was doing a damned good job of it, she thought
, squeezing her knees together.  Sleep didn’t come easily last night, so she’d gotten up early to bake. 

Now it was late afternoon, and he still
hadn’t been to the house the whole fricking day.  That was unlike him.  When the guests were out on a trail drive, like they were now, Dylan always came up here in the morning at least once to see what was cooked for breakfast.  He must’ve cooked for himself, so he didn’t have to come over here. 

“Dammit,” she grumbled as she sifted the cake flo
ur into her cake mixing bowl.

The front door opened, and Carrie held her breath until she heard tiny sneakered feet squeaking on the hardwood floor. 

“Hey, mommy!” Izzy chirped as she hurried to the breakfast bar to pick up a cupcake and take a big bite.  “Mmm…these are yummy,” she said around the bite.

“Don’t talk with food in your
mou—“ Carrie grunted when a shockwave hit her right between her legs.  A strong one that lasted several seconds.  She clenched her teeth, and the handle of the metal sifter cut into her palm, as she leaned her elbows on the counter, trying to breathe through it.  The urge to moan was so great, her throat burned from holding it back.

“Mommy are you okay?” Izzy asked with concern as she ran around the counter.

“Where’s Dylan,” she ground out through her teeth.  He was around there somewhere.  With that damned remote control.

“He was outside.  He gave me a riding lesson, then said I should come find you,”
Izzy said with a shrug.  Anger scorched through the endorphins in Carrie’s brain.  He had used her daughter in his game.  That wasn’t acceptable, and she was going to tell him that.  Izzy was not part of this game.  Sucking in a breath she raised up, and wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist. 

“Go play in your room, baby.  I think your toys are in the closet,” Carrie said
, stiffening her shoulders, as she turned toward the back door.  Another forceful shock hit her and her knees almost buckled.  She grabbed the counter and moaned low in her throat.

“Something’s wrong.  I’m going
to get Miss Terri,” Izzy said with fear in her voice.

“No baby, I’m fine
,” Carrie wheezed, as steady pulsations worked through her inner muscles in waves.  “You go play,” she forced out through gritted teeth. 

Dylan must’ve figured out how to use that damned remote.  Carrie knew it had ten settings, and it felt to her like he was trying out
every one of them.

“Okay, mommy,”
Izzy said, not sounding convinced, as she turned and ran out of the kitchen.  Carrie staggered to the door, and gripped the knob in her hand while she fought through another wave of vibrations.

She flung open the door and there stood Dylan, grinning like a f
ool.  His eyes met hers, and sparkled evilly as he pressed the button again.  Electricity shot through her body, zapping every nerve ending, seizing her brain.  Carrie whimpered and dropped to her knees in front of him.  Another jolt hit her hard.  Leaning forward, she hugged herself, and her body shook violently as the most incredible orgasm she’d ever had in her life barreled through her.  Took over her body.  Engulfed her soul.  She hugged herself, hanging onto to the runaway rollercoaster as she freefell through the storm raging inside her. 

Hot
tears overflowed her lids as she squeezed them shut.  Little mewls forced their way past her lips as she rode out the tremors.  The vibrations ceased, and she slammed into the ground.  A wave of dizziness grabbed her and she thought she might pass out.

Dylan knelt beside her, and stroked her hair.  “Are you okay, baby?”

Carrie’s chest finally loosened enough for her to drag in a shaky breath.  She reared up on her knees and grabbed his shirt in her fists.  Her head felt like it was going to explode.  It had been a long damned time since she’d been this angry. 

She put her nose close to his to growl,
“Don’t you ever,
ever
drag my daughter into your dirty little mind games.  Do you hear me?” It was all she could do not to add a slap to his handsome, shocked face to emphasize her words.

Dylan
sighed, then fell back on his butt, as her fingers loosened on his shirt.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t thi—“

“You didn’t think.  That’s the problem.  She’s a kid.  Izzy didn’t know what was going on.  She thought I was hurt.”
 

Carrie went to get to her feet, but he pulled her onto his lap.  His arms wrapped around her like steel bands.  “I would never hurt either one of you.  I told her to come inside and find you
over an hour ago.  I didn’t realize she was in the room with you, or I wouldn’t have done it.”

The sincerity in his tone made Carrie’s anger fizzle.  She’d give him the benefit of the doubt
this time. She hadn’t ever seen him do anything stupid or hurtful around her kids.  “Make sure she isn’t next time.”

He kissed her cheek.  “Next time?” he growled and nipped her earlobe.

Carrie shivered.  “You haven’t told me I could take the panties off yet,” she reminded him shyly, as he kissed her cheek then nibbled the corner of her lower lip. 

His body tensed. 
“I haven’t, have I?,” he murmured, before his mouth covered hers in a delicious kiss that she felt in the center of her chest, down at her throbbing core, in her dazed brain.  She moaned and wrapped her arm around his neck to pull him closer.

There was a heavy sigh, then Terri said, “Y’all gathering sugar for this cake on the counter?”
  Carrie pulled back breathing hard, and it was a good thing, because Izzy ran around the corner right after Terri.

She skidded to a stop beside Terri, and just stared at her for a second. 
“Mommy, why are you sitting in Dylan’s lap?” she asked.

“Um, I, ah…”
Carrie stammered.

“She had something in her eye, and I was getting it out for her,” Dylan said
, grabbing her chin to pretend to inspect her eye.  He winked at her and her lips twitched.  He winked again.  “Blink like that, Carrie.  I’m sure it’ll come out.”

She batted her left eye comically and he laughed.  “Hang on, I think it
’s gone.  Let me kiss it to make sure.” Dylan leaned in to kiss her on the eyelid.  Light butterfly-wing sensations floated through her to flutter around in her stomach.

“What’s this cake for?” Terri asked, evidently ignoring Dylan’s show.

“Oh, I’m making a cake for Zane’s birthday tomorrow,” she said cheerfully.  Dylan’s whole body tensed.  He went still as a statue, then she heard a rumble in his chest that resembled a roar, as he shoved her off his lap and stood.

“What’s wrong?”
Carrie asked scrambling to her feet.

“Not a damned thing,”
Dylan said in a dark voice that scared her.  He grabbed the knob in his hand and twisted it.  “Enjoy your cake.  Hope you get to eat some too,” he said as he walked out the door and slammed it behind him.  The window panes rattled and Carrie flinched.

Dylan walked across
the yard toward the bunkhouse with the green-eyed monster, who now knew his first, middle and last name, riding his shoulder like a jockey pushing a horse toward the finish line at the Kentucky Derby. 

As mad as he was at the moment, as frustrated, he would love nothing better than to take his frustration out on the man causing it.  Zane Lawrence.  Mr. Suave-talking Aussie Cowboy.  Scoot over,
love
.  Those words boiled the bile in his stomach to bitter acid, as he walked through the door of the bunkhouse and slammed it.

When he started the game with Carrie Collins, Dylan had thought it would be some sexy fun
torturing her.  He’d pushed her and pushed her, and he had enjoyed the hell out of it.  But she was thinking of another man while he was doing it.  He had been kidding himself thinking she wanted him.

She was baking a fucking birthday cake for the man.  That told Dylan all he needed to know.  It was time to get away from her. 
Zane Lawrence could have her cake, but she wasn’t going to eat it with Dylan too. 

He was done with her and her problems. 
With her troublemaking kids. 

Tomorrow he was getting up early to go to town.  His doctor’s appointment wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon, but he wanted to get out of her
e.  Away from her.  As fast as he could.  He flexed his shoulder, rotating his arm, testing it.  No pain and no soreness.  His hope that he’d get his walking papers from the doctor tomorrow raised a little, as he walked down the hallway and slammed his bedroom door.  Maybe he should pack his duffle bag before he left. 

If he got that piece of paper he
’d find out where the next stop on the circuit was, hook up his trailer to his truck, and see if he could get a job, any job with them, to carry him over until next season.  He would leave and not look back at the R & R Ranch or at Carrie Collins. His heart did an odd little somersault in his chest. 

Dylan rubbed it as he walked to his bed and flopped down.  He shoved his boots off, then shucked his jeans, careful to avoid his painful erection when he slid the zipper down.
  He took off his hat and tossed it toward the dresser, but it bounced off the edge and fell on the floor.