12 Borrowing Trouble (6 page)

Carrie fisted her hand in the material of his shirt,
leaning into him, wanting more.  Disappointment filled her when, after a quick pass over her mouth, he stepped back to give her a goofy smile. “Let’s dance, sugar,” he drawled, pulling her to him for a quick hug. 

When he released her, his hand slid to her waist and he tucked her into his side to lead her back into the crowded bar. 
His delicious scent and body heat intoxicated Carrie.  She relaxed into his side, slipped her arm around his back, and his firm muscles danced beneath her palm as they walked to the table to drop off her purse.  They stopped at the edge of the dance floor and waited for a break in the dancing couples on the crowded floor.

Just as the opening came, a
slow song started playing.  Dylan grabbed her hand and tugged her through the dancers until they were at the center of the floor, where he stopped to pull her to him.  Tentatively she smoothed her palms up his chest to circle them behind his neck.  His eyes held hers as if she were the only woman there.  The  shiny silver ball overhead reflected multi-colored lights over his handsome face.  A little grin kicked up the corner of his mouth as his fingers tightened on her hips and his feet started moving.   The rhythm of the slow ballad seeped into her, and her feet moved too. 

T
heir bodies found perfect harmony and Carrie’s eyes drifted shut.  Peace settled in her soul, and she leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest.  The slow beat of his heart under her cheek soothed her, the swaying of their bodies lulled her.  She sighed.  As his arms tightened around her, Carrie felt safe and mindless, a feeling that had escaped her for three years.  A few minutes later, a rich deep voice rumbled in her ear, waking her from the soft, dreamy world to which she’d escaped.  “You feel
so
damned good.” 

Carrie
’s hips stopped gyrating, and she realized the song had ended.  She felt the imprint of each of his ten fingers, which gripped her ass tightly to hold her against the rock solid erection nestled at the apex of her thighs.  Carrie was appalled to realize she had been rubbing herself against the man like a cat on a scratching post.  Heat flooded her body, and she knew her cheeks must be bright red, as the lights came up a little. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled
, trying to push away from him.

Dylan smiled, but he
held her tighter against him.  “You’ll have to give me a minute,” he said with a laugh, as a faster song started playing. 

It didn’t look like he was going to get that minute though, because a dark shadow fell over her face, and she looked up to see one of the men she had turned down earlier standing beside them.  “
Looks like you’re feeling up to dancing now, love,” he said to her, then turned his gaze on Dylan.  “It’s my turn for a spin, mate.”  The smooth, melodic quality of the man’s thickly accented voice tickled Carrie’s ears.

Carrie could swear Dylan growl
ed.  It rumbled in his chest and his arms tightened more, before he said gruffly, “I don’t think so,
mate
.  Take a hike.”

The tall cowboy, who was probably twice as broad as Dylan, laughed. 
“You need to share, mate.  I asked her first.  You’ve had your spin.”

“And you’ve had your chance.  She said no,” Dylan said
, with unmistakable warning in his tone.  If the foreign cowboy missed it, he must be a little slow.  Carrie felt like a juicy t-bone tossed in the middle of two pit bulls.  She couldn’t say she liked the feeling.

“I think I need a break,” she said
, pushing against Dylan’s chest, but his arms held her firmly to him.  One of the couples dancing around them bumped into the other cowboy.  He stumbled into them, Dylan’s arms released her and Carrie staggered backwards.  Before she knew what was happening, the two men were a tangle of arms, fists and curse words on the floor.  The dancing stopped, but the music blared on.  A crowd circled them as they rolled and fought for control.  Excitement buzzed, cheers and whistles became deafening, then Joel pushed through the crowd to grab Dylan by the back of the shirt.  “Zane, get your ass back to the ranch,” he growled as he tried to pull Dylan up to his feet.

Terri put her arm around Carrie and squeezed
, just as a stray fist clipped Joel’s jaw.  He grunted as he flew backwards, the crowd parted and he landed on his butt looking stunned.  Terri gasped as she ran over to him.  Dylan and Zane sat up to look at each other, then Joel sat up too.  Dylan scrambled to his feet first.  He wiped his arm over his mouth, flinched then grabbed his shoulder.  The larger cowboy was slower to get to his feet, holding his head back as he pinched the bridge of his nose, which was bleeding.

“I think you broke my
fucking nose, fuckwit,” he said in a nasally tone.

“Well, I think you just fucked up my chances of getting back to the rodeo,
so we’re not even close to even,” Dylan replied with a groan.

“Well, I think both of you got what you deserved,” Carrie
ground out as she stepped between them.  She shook her head then glared at each for a moment.  “Dumbass rednecks,” she grumbled.  That was meant for not only the two cowboys, it was meant for the crowd of smiling spectators surrounding them too.  Carrie wasn’t going to stick around to entertain them any more than she already had.  With embarrassment baking her face, she walked over to Terri to ask, “Is Joel okay?”  Terri glanced up at her, not looking any happier than Carrie was.  She nodded.  “Good, then I’m going to wait outside by the truck.”

Or maybe she’d keep on walking until she got to Trace’s ranch to get her kids, she thought, as she pushed her way through the crowd. 
Carrie missed them, and the normalcy they gave her.  Coming here tonight had definitely been a mistake.  There was nothing wrong with her or her life.  Trace was wrong and Terri was wrong.  This type of place was not her.  She realized now she hadn’t missed a damned thing getting married young and being a stable wife and mother.  Even though she wasn’t a wife anymore, it didn’t mean she had to find something or someone else to occupy her.  Her kids were enough.  Being the best mother to them she could was enough.

After snatching her purse from the table,
Carrie headed for the front door.  When she got outside, the cool night air soothed her heated cheeks.  She took a deep breath to calm herself, then heard the sirens cut through the night air.  That had to be the police coming to take care of the disturbance inside the bar.  To take care of the two men who caused it.  Maybe a night in jail would make those two think about starting a barroom brawl again.  She’d like to kick their butts herself.  Stupid men. 

Carrie leaned against the truck door and crossed her arms over her chest.
  Gravel crunched, and Carrie assumed the police had arrived.  Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm, and dragged her after him across the parking lot.  She tried to put on the brakes by digging in her heels.  “Stop it!” she yelled, stumbling as she followed, because she had no choice. 

“I need you to drive,” Dylan said gruffly
, as he stopped beside a big black truck on the next row.  He turned her loose and shoved his keys at her, glancing back over his shoulder.  “Hurry, I need to get out of here,” he growled.

She didn’t take the keys, she folded her arms over her chest. 
“I’m not helping you escape,” she said firmly.

“I can’t drive, my shoulder is out of joint
,” he informed in a pained tone.  “And I’ve been drinking,” he added as if she didn’t know that.

Carrie snorted
, and pinned him with a glare.  “Then you’re just going to have to stay here and take your medicine, mister.  You should have thought of that before you got drunk and got into that fight.”  That she had to repeat the same words she’d said to her son a time or two to an adult man who should have known better, just enflamed her more.

“You sound like my fucking mother
,” he grated with a roll of his eyes.  “Just get in the damned truck and drive, will you?”

Carrie lifted an eyebrow
and leaned against the truck.  No way was she going to do what he asked, especially the way he asked.  After a second, Dylan fumbled with the keys and inserted a key into the lock with his left hand.  He managed to unlock the door, and opened it wide.  He put a boot on the running board, and tried to hop up, but was unable to get inside.  He jumped back down and walked around to the back of the truck.  Carrie followed him and watched as he grabbed his elbow and held his arm to his body.  Sucking in a sharp breath, he rammed his shoulder into the tailgate.  It rattled, and a low long groan came from him. 

Carrie felt his pain in her chest as he
cradled his elbow close to his side.  With another sharp breath, he leaned away then rammed it again a little lower.  He whimpered this time, his breathing short and shallow, as he leaned there hugging his arm to his body.  Finally, he pushed back upright and eased his arm to his side, then staggered back to the front of the truck.

“I’ll drive,” she
offered, putting her hand on his arm.  If she didn’t, it looked to her like he was going to try and drive himself.  He wasn’t in any shape to do that.  If he killed himself it would be her fault.

He just stood there a minute, and Carrie thought he would ignore her when he heaved himself up into the driver’s seat.  She breathed a sigh of relief when he slid over to the passenger side
.  The truck was tall so it took a little effort for her to get up into the driver’s seat.  She shut the door, then without looking at him, held her hand out for the keys.  After a second, he dropped them into her palm. 

“Do you know how to drive a stick?”
 

“A little late to be asking that, isn’t it?” she replied smugly, as she shoved the keys into the ignition
and reached for the clutch.  “The seat is too far back, I need to scoot it forward.  My legs are short,” she said, fumbling for the lever under the seat.

He grunted. 
“Your legs are perfect,” he grumbled.

Nobody had ever said anything was perfect about her.  Not even her husband.  Because nothing about her was perfect.  Her legs
well-shaped, but short and stubby.  That came with being petite.  Carrie fought the pleasure that his words brought, and jerked the lever.  The seat slid forward, and she let it lock back into place then depressed the clutch and put the truck in first gear.  It had been a long time since she’d driven a truck, and a little anticipation surged through her.  Her father’s old farm truck is what she’d learned to drive in, and she had loved that old truck, but it had been a heck of a long time since then. 

She hoped she still remembered how this was done.
  Dylan leaned over on the seat to glance in the rearview.  “Hurry up, will you?” he growled, then collapsed against the seat back and slid his body down. 

Carrie
looked into the mirror and saw what he’d seen., two uniformed policemen walking across the parking lot.  They stopped at the first row to scan the lot, then their way was blocked by a few trucks leaving the bar.  Carrie quickly cranked the truck and eased the clutch up.  The truck lurched forward and Dylan groaned. 

“You okay
, or should we go to the emergency room?” she asked as she drove toward the exit.  Nonchalantly, she squeezed into the exit line at the edge of the lot, then out onto the road, trying not to bring attention to them.  If the cops followed them, she would draw the line at running from the police.  If she saw lights behind her, she was going to stop.  Even if it meant he was going to jail tonight.

“
Just go back to the ranch.  I need to pack up my stuff and clear out,” he said with resignation.  He sat up on the seat and leaned forward to peer over the dashboard.  “Let’s get off this main road.  About a mile down there’s a turn-off to an old fire road to the right.  Take it.” He eased back down in the seat and rested his head against the back.

Carrie
drove the mile and saw the road, which could barely be called a road, and made a right turn.  She gritted her teeth as the truck bounced through several small ruts before leveling out.  “What do you mean clear out?” she asked, leaning forward to peer over the wheel to try and avoid the ruts.

“Joel is gonna fire me now for sure
,” Dylan grated through his teeth.

Carrie
hit another pothole and flinched when Dylan groaned.  If they would’ve stayed on the main road, there wouldn’t be so many bumps.  If he was in pain, it was his own damned fault.  But she downshifted and slowed down a little more.  “Joel doesn’t seem like the kind to fire someone like that?  Haven’t you worked there a while?  Aren’t you a manager of some kind?”  Carrie had asked Terri about him, and she said he ran the bull riding adventure at the ranch.

“
I’ve given him a year and a half of my life.  Put blood, sweat and tears into making that bull riding adventure at his ranch a success,” he replied with a huffed breath.

“
That’s a good while.  I’m sure he appreciates your efforts,” Carrie said with another glance at him.  The flatness, hopelessness and frustration in his voice bothered her.  “Are you sure you’re not misunderstanding the situation?” Terri and Joel Rhodes seemed like caring people.  Surely one misstep wouldn’t get him fired, but maybe there was more he wasn’t telling her.