12 Borrowing Trouble (7 page)

“Not much to misunderstand.  I
gave Joel a year’s notice I was leaving to go back to the rodeo next year.  I think he hired that Aussie to replace me before I even gave him notice.  He’s ready to see the back of me.”  Dylan shut up, seeming to be in thought for a moment.  “The only one I told I might be leaving was Sheedy.  He could’ve given Joel a heads up months ago to get brownie points, I guess.  I thought he was my friend, but evidently I made a mistake trusting him too.  Made a mistake trusting any of them.  Now I don’t have a job, and I can’t go back to the rodeo, because my arm is busted again.”

“I think you’re overreacting.  They seem to be good people
.  You should talk to Joel before you just give up and leave.”

“I’ve done all the talking I intend on doing.  I haven’t misunderstood anything
,” he replied then shot her a hot glance.  “Except the signals you were sending tonight.”

The truck bounced violently, Dylan moaned and
Carrie heard a loud hiss before the truck became almost impossible to control.  Somehow she managed to guide it to the side of the road. 

“I think we have a flat,” she said calmly, although the darkness of the woods surrounding the road seemed to be closing in on her. 
The headlights were on bright and seemed to be illuminating nothingness, a black hole lined by trees.  “Do you have a spare?” she asked, not looking forward to trying to change a tire out there.  “And maybe a flashlight?”

“You can’t change that tire,” Dylan
replied with a dry laugh.  “That thing probably weighs more than you do.  It’s bolted under the bed in the back, and probably rusted there.  I’d even have a hard time getting it loose.”

Carrie sat against the door and looked at him.  “I’ve changed a tire before,” she informed defensively.  She’d changed more than her share on the beat up sedan she
’d driven for ten years.  They hadn’t been able to afford a round of tires, so she’d driven on maypops for several years.  When one went, she just dealt with it, just like everything else in her life.

“You haven’t changed an oversized truck tire,” he fired back.  “And I can’t do it either in the shape I’m in.”

“Call Joel and he’ll come get us,” she suggested.

“The service out here is spotty.  I’d almost guarantee, between these thick trees and the area, I won’t have service.”

“Look,” she said shortly.  “I don’t want to spend the night out here.”

Dylan didn’t particularly want to stay out here all night either.  He wanted to get back to the ranch and get his things together then ride off into the sunset. 
That was going to be tough to do though without his truck.  He’d get Sheedy to give him a ride back out here tomorrow morning to fix the tire, so he could leave. 

But t
hen he remembered Sheedy wasn’t his friend anymore.  He’d have to come up with another plan.  And he also remembered his cell phone was in his right pocket.  “You’ll have to get it out of my pocket, if you want to check.  I can’t do it.”

A long heavy sigh came from the other side of the truck
.  He heard rustling, then felt her heat beside him.  It was too damned dark in the truck to see anything.  But he sure smelled her.  And felt her small hand pat his left thigh, then skim across his fly.  Dylan’s dick went rock hard behind his zipper and he jerked his hips to the side. 

“Wait,” he said hoarsely
.  He waited a second, then lifted his hips, turning his right pocket toward her.  Her scent engulfed him as she leaned across him to shove her hand into his pocket.  Vanilla.  She smelled like Penny’s sugar cookies, and those were an addiction for him.  That smell made him want to lick her neck, lick her whole damned body to see if she tasted the same as she smelled.  The side of her hand brushed his cock through the thin material inside his pocket.  “Don’t be fishing around in there, just get the damned phone,” he said gruffly. 

She sat back down beside him, but didn’t move away as she pushed a button on the phone.  Light filled the cab for a brief second, and then went dark.  She sighed, and he felt her arm drop to her thigh.  “No service, and you have very little battery left anyway.  I guess we’ll have to walk back to the main road.”

“It’s about five miles to the ranch, if we take the road,” he informed.  “Our best bet is to take this service road to the dirt road through the woods.  It’s only three that way.”

“Maybe we could flag someone down to give us a ride on the main road.”

“Or we could have to walk two extra miles, because you’re hardheaded,” he volleyed back.  “And we’re already a mile from the main road, so that’s six miles.”

“Fine,” she said sliding back over the seat to the driver’s side.  He heard the keys jangle, as she took them out of the ignition.  “Do you at least have a gun in case we run into a bobcat or something in the woods?”

“You know how to shoot?” he asked incredulously.  This woman looked like a white bread city girl to him.  She’d probably wind up shooting herself or him.  His arm was messed up, so shooting wasn’t going to happen for him, unless it was from the hip.  No his gun would stay right where it was behind the seat.

“Won’t you take off down that road, and let’s find out?” she suggested with a snort.

“How do you know how to shoot then?  A shooting range at the country club?  Skeet practice?” he asked snidely.

“My daddy taught me to shoot on our ranch, and my husband was a cop.  They made sure I know how to protect myself.”  There seemed to be a warning for him in her words.  “I only left my pistol at the R & R because we were going to a bar.”

That brought up another question Dylan wanted an answer to.  When he first saw her at the bar without her wedding ring, he had thought she was messing around on her rich husband tonight.  Now he knew the man was a cop and he was dead. 

“How did your husband die?” he couldn’t help but ask. 
When he thought of a widow, he thought of an old gray-haired crone, not  a gorgeous thirty-something woman who smelled like sugar cookies.  There was a long pause, and he thought he heard a whimper, which made him feel like an ass for asking her.  It really wasn’t his business.  “I’m sorry, if it’s too painful—“

“He was on an undercover drug operation and was murdered,” she spat out each word like it tasted bitter in her mouth.

Dylan couldn’t come up with any words of comfort.  His throat closed off in sympathy for her situation.  At her age, that had to be damned hard to deal with.  And he had been a first-class ass for accusing her of cheating on the man.  That explained why she was still wearing the ring, and it explained her hesitance to dance with him or anyone else. 

Who knew, maybe it was still fresh, hadn’t been long since he died. 
“That must have been tough.  How long, um…when did it…”

“Three years, four months and seventeen days ago,” she replied in a trembling voice.  “If
the time on your phone is right and it’s after midnight.”

Dylan knew without looking that his phone was correct, and he knew without thinking about it, this woman wasn’t over her husband’s death yet.  Even though it had been three years, she was still grieving for him. 
He hoped she didn’t end up like his mother who grieved for five years before killing herself.  Dylan always thought she died from a broken heart, as much as the bullet that ended her life on what would have been her fifteenth anniversary.

Although it would be nice to have a woman, anyone, grieve for him like that when he bit the bullet, he wouldn’t want to put anyone through what she must be suffering. 
What his mother had suffered.  What he and his three younger brothers suffered.  Being an orphan was not a fun experience.  Not something he ever wanted to subject any child to. 

That’s why he avoided relationships like the plague.  Once a man got entangled with a woman, children followed.
  This woman was a relationship kind of woman, and he was kind of thankful things hadn’t progressed at the bar.  He never wanted to be anyone’s daddy.  He had a hard enough time taking care of himself.  He didn’t want anyone relying on him, depending on him to take care of them, or being let down when he didn’t come through for them.

When he died he wanted to go out solo, the same way he’d lived most of his life.

“We better get moving, or it’ll be dawn when we get to the ranch,” Dylan said opening his door.  And it’ll be noon before I get the hell away from the R & R Ranch for good, he added mentally as he hopped down to the ground.

CHAPTER FOUR

It was
three in the morning when they finally made it to the ranch.  Dylan walked Carrie to the big house and left her at the porch.  He was dog tired, and his arm felt like he had for sure torn something loose in there.  He’d have to go to the doctor after he got away from there to have it checked out.  It had been six months since he’d taken pain medicine, but he could sure use some right about now. 

The last few steps up to the porch of the bunkhouse almost took more energy than he had left.  He stopped a minute to lean against the door frame
, mindless of the moths and gnats that swarmed around his head which was very near the porch light.  His hand reached for the doorknob, but it swung open.

“It’s about damned time you got home
,” Joel ground out.  “Where’s Carrie?”

“She’s at the big house,” he replied tiredly.  Dylan stepped back, waiting for Joel to come outside, but he didn’t move.  He just stood there in the doorway.  “I need to come insi
de,” Dylan finally said.

Joel stepped out and closed the door behind him, then folded his arms over his chest.
“Well, that’s too damned bad, because we need to talk first.”

“I’m too tired, Joel.  My truck broke down and my fucking shoulder hurts.”
  Dylan reached up to rub the spot that throbbed like a toothache there.

“When we finish talking, I’ll get Terri to get you some pain meds.  She just finished fixing Zane’s nose, so she’s probably still up
, thanks to you two idiots.”

Pain meds sounded fantastic to Dylan right now, but sleep sounded better.  “I need to get some shuteye.  I’m done
.” He reached around Joel for the door knob, but Joel grabbed his wrist.

He let Dylan’s wrist go, but he didn’t move. 
“You’re done when I say you’re done.  We need to talk about what happened tonight.” The dark, frustrated quality to his boss’s voice told him this conversation wasn’t going to be good.  And it also told him Joel wasn’t budging.  They were having this conversation right here, right now.  He knew that for sure when Joel shoved him back toward one of the rocking chairs on the porch. 

“Sit!” he said, pointing to the chair behind Dylan.

Dylan was too tired to resist, so he just staggered back and plopped down.  His hands clutched the arms of the wooden rocker.  “No talking is needed.  I know I’m fired.  I’ll be out of here in the morning.” The words rang in his tired brain like strikes on a gong, sounding almost surreal.  This whole situation didn’t seem real.  He really had done his best for Joel and this ranch, and he never in a million years expected them to treat him so poorly.

Joel shook his head and threw up his hands. 
“I don’t get it.  I finally get you help out here and you act like I’ve stepped on your fucking toes, and pushed you out of here.”

“You hired that Aussie
asshole to replace me.  Don’t try and tell me you didn’t,” Dylan fired back.  Dylan wasn’t finished either, and he wasn’t sugarcoating the only theory he could come up with.  He thought he and Joel had buried the hatchet long ago, but it looked his boss still held a grudge.  It’s the only thing that made sense.  “You’ve wanted me out of here since that time I hit on Terri.  Now you have your chance.”

Joel’s jaw tightened.  He ground his teeth a few times,
before he said, “If I’d wanted you gone, you would be gone.”

“You didn’t have anyone to replace me.  Now you do
,” Dylan said, flinching when he forgot about his shoulder and tried to push up to stand.  He fell back and rubbed it.  “I’ll be gone in the morning.”

Joel
all but growled, “I didn’t fire you!” He shoved a hand through his hair, and filled his cheeks with a puff of air, then blew it out.  “Even after what you pulled today and tonight, I’m not going to fire you.  We need you here, Dylan!” 

Dylan almost believed him that time
, but there was still the incident from earlier today.  “You didn’t need me earlier today.  You threw me under the bus with Brandon Carter.”

“All I did was get him out of your hair!  That guy is an asshole, and you had dealt with him all week by yourself.  I thought you
’d had enough of him, and needed a break.  Besides, I wanted to see what Zane would do with a more than difficult client.  I need him to know what he’s getting into, and need to know what I’ve bought into by hiring him.”

Those words snuffed out some of the anger he’d carried around all day, but not all of it.  “You should have talked to me before you hired the Aussie.  You’ve put me in charge of the bull riding, and I should have had some kind of say.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed and he put his hands on his hips.  “The last time I checked, I still own this place.  If I want to hire someone, I’ll hire them.  I don’t need your approval,” he grated.  “Matt left us in the lurch going back to Henrietta to help his sister, and I knew you were shorthanded.  He had experience, so I hired him.  If he doesn’t do his job, you let me know.”

The last of
Dylan’s anger fled, and what was left was remorse.  Had he done what Sheedy had accused him of earlier?  Cut his nose off to spite his face?  It sure looked like that is exactly what he’d done with his boss.  “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Dylan said.

“
You jumped in with both feet.  So, are you staying?” Joel asked abruptly.

“Yeah, I’m staying
…but I’ll be out of commission for a little while with my shoulder.”

“Terri will patch you up.  And you need to make peace with Zane.  Y’all are working together, you got that?
  You can tell him what you need done until you’re better.”

“Yes, sir,” Dylan said contritely.

“And Dylan?”  Dylan looked up into Joel’s hard, angry eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Stay the fuck away from Carrie Collins.  She’s vulnerable, and not your type.  I told Zane the same thing.”

“I figured that out tonight.  I’ll stay away from her
,” he reassured, pushing out of the rocker with his left hand to stand.  “If you’re done with me, I’m going to get a few hours of sleep.”  Joel nodded, then turned to walk across the porch.  As he reached the steps, Dylan hollered behind him, “You think Terri can give me some of those pain meds?” 

At least then he could fall asleep without thinking
about big, soft brown eyes, the most delicious ass he’d ever seen or felt, and the sugar cookies the woman who owned them smelled like.  What her mouth tasted like.

“I’ll send her back out here with them,”
Joel yelled back.  Dylan went inside the house, and straight to the shower.

As tired as she was, Carrie couldn’t sleep.  After trying for two hours, she finally gave up.  Every time she closed her eyes, she relived the moment those electric lips touched hers.  It was like that one kiss opened the flood gate to her womanly needs, and there wasn’t any closing that gate now.  She batted at the sheet that stuck to her sweaty body, trying to unfurl herself from the cocoon she had made from tossing and turning. 

Enough was enough. 

Carrie needed to do something to get him off of her mind, and fast.  Baking is what she needed.  That always helped calm her nerves so she could refocus.  In the days after Sean’s funeral, God only knew how many cakes, cookies and cupcakes she had baked.  Her once hobby became an addiction.  Carrie never ate the baked goods herself, and she limited how many she allowed the kids to have.  But she supplied every shift at the station with sweets for a month.  It got to where when she walked in the officers would groan and hold their stomachs. 

Finally,
when none of his men could meet the physical fitness requirements of their job, Chief Patterson pulled her aside and asked her to find a charity to donate them to.  Carrie had done that for a while, donating the sweets to a local women’s shelter, until she finally worked out her grief.  She only baked on occasion now.  When she was stressed.  Like now. 

She peeled away the final layer of the sheet, and sat up on the side of the bed
, breathing hard.  Penny had been to the grocery store yesterday, so the odds were she had restocked her baking supplies too.  But first she needed a cold shower.  Carrie knew what else she needed, but forgot to throw the vibrator she’d bought right before Sean died into her suitcase.  A little relief in the shower would be more than welcome right now. 

That is why she was so worked up.  Carrie knew that. 

But there wasn’t a damned thing she could do except bake to find release, until she got back to her parents’ house.  She grabbed her t-shirt off the floor and pulled it over her head, before gathering a clean pair of panties, a pair of cutoff shorts and a tank top out of her suitcase.  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then quietly made her way down the hall to the bathroom.

Carrie was up to her elbows kneading
bread dough when Terri walked into the kitchen a few hours later.  She already had two trays of saucer-sized biscuits sitting on the stove cooling beside a tray of cupcakes, which were waiting to be frosted.  Three trays of cookies were in the oven, and a carrot cake was next.  She already had the frosting for the cake and the cupcakes in the refrigerator getting firm. 

Terri
’s gasp made Carrie look up.  Her heart jerked in her chest, as she stopped kneading to stare at her guiltily. “What in the world are you doing?” Terri asked in awe, after her gaze traveled over the mess she’d made of the kitchen. 

Cleaning up always came after she finished baking.
  Unfortunately right now the place looked like a flour bomb had gone off.  “Baking?” Carrie replied in a squeaky voice she didn’t recognize.

“I get that…but for what army?”
Terri asked with a shake of her head.

“Um, I thought maybe your guests would like them.  Penny can always reheat them for a few days.  They’ll still be good.”

“We only have two guests in residence this week,” Terri informed.  “And they’re leaving this afternoon. The new round won’t show up until Monday.”

“There are at least three hands, and us too, right?  Seven people?”

“You have enough here for seventy.  Four loaves of bread?” Terri said looking at the four greased bread pans on the counter lined up like soldiers beside the bowl.

Emotion shot up Carries throat and wedged itself behind her eyes.  She sucked in a deep breath then coughed as she inhaled flour.  Her lower lip trembled and she bit it.  Once she felt sure she had control, she looked down to scrape her fingers on the side of the bowl.  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.  “I’ll clean up this mess.”

“Don’t you dare.  You leave it and I’ll clean it up.” Terri walked over to her to drop an arm over Carrie’s shoulders.  The gesture held compassion and comfort, which pushed the tears over her lower lids.  Carrie squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the rest, and swiped at the two that ran down her cheeks.  “What’s wrong, honey?”

Carrie shook her head, because there was no way she could speak without crying.  Usually, when she was baking the kids left her alone.  Somehow
, they just realized she needed some space.  Terri didn’t know that though. 

“I need to do this,”
Carrie replied in a broken voice.  “Please, just let me finish.”

She felt Terri’s eyes on the side of her face a moment, but she only squeezed
Carrie’s shoulder before stepping away.  “Okay, I’ll see if I can keep Penny out of here this morning.  If you need me, I’ll be at the med shack or the wedding pavilion.  I got a message from a distraught bride yesterday that she wants to cancel her wedding.  She’s coming out here this morning, and I’m going to try to talk her off the ledge.”

“Thank you,”
Carrie whispered, plunging her hands forcefully back into the dough.  “I’ll cook some eggs and grits to go with the biscuits as soon as I finish the bread.  How many people do I need to cook for?”

“
No need.  Jarvis is fixing breakfast for the hands and guests out at the bunkhouse.  The two ladies here for the spa usually don’t get up before noon.  You just keep baking.  Those biscuits will be enough, but I want one of those cupcakes with my coffee,” she said with a laugh, pointing at the tray on the stove.

Carrie stopped kneading and wiped her hands.  “They’re not iced yet.”

“I don’t bake, but I think I can manage to ice my own cupcake.” Terri waved her hand.  “Where’s the icing?”

“Refrigerator,” Carrie replied resuming her kneading. 

Terri iced her cupcake, recovered the bowl, then put it back in the refrigerator.  She poured herself a cup of the coffee from the pot that Carrie made earlier.  “Okay, have fun with your baking.  I’m heading out to battle Bridezilla.  Wish me luck,” she said as she licked frosting from her finger.  At the back door she stopped and her face turned serious.  “You gonna be okay in here by yourself?” 

Carrie nodded.  As long as
she could finish her baking therapy.  Alone.  Thank goodness she didn’t have to stop to make breakfast.  Knowing her lack of cooking skills in anything other than baking, she would have burned the eggs and the grits would have been gritty anyway. 

As the back door closed, a
nother shot of emotion clogged her throat, but Carrie swallowed it back down and focused on kneading her bread.  Two more days and she could go home.  Or back to her parents’ ranch that hadn’t really been home for thirteen years.  A home she had left against her parents’ wishes to marry Sean, instead of going to college like they wanted her to do.  Her home, the one she and Sean bought after Chris was born, was probably occupied by another family now.  One who had a mother and a father to raise their kids.  A family whose kids weren’t in trouble all the time, because their pathetic single mother was too blind to see what they were doing.  Maybe she should have listened to her parents.