Back Where You Belong (9 page)

Yet, Lacy was different from any other woman he’d ever met. She thought she was heavy. What idiot put that thought into her pretty head? Twenty pounds heavy? Her full breasts and rounded hips came to mind, and he hardened, shifting in his seat to relieve the tightness of his jeans. The woman was perfect.

She looked mighty fine sitting astride her pinto a few weeks ago. He wondered if she still competed. Her name hadn’t been associated with rodeos since she left for college. He’d have to remember to ask her, if there were any awkward silences in the conversation.

He laughed out loud. Hell, this was Lacy LaRoche he was thinking about. He doubted there was ever much lull in her conversations. There weren’t any in their phone calls. She’d ask him about his day and then fuss when he told her what all he’d done. In addition, he’d tell stories about Olivia. Slowly, he became accustomed to talking to her about anything. Was a damned good feeling.

All this wool gathering, as his pappy used to say, still had him in the same predicament—on his way to his first date in fourteen years. Fourteen long years that included a baby in the first six months and countless arguments and stresses in the months and years to follow. The night he found out for sure Anna Beth had been cheating on him was almost a relief. His only concern being who got custody of Olivia.

At the time, he swore he’d never date again. Now here he was, ankle swollen and still sore from the surgery, hauling ass on the highway to get to one blonde, blue-eyed heart stealer.

Had women’s dating expectations changed during this span of time? His gaze slid to the bouquet of orange roses and yellow daisies on the bench seat beside him. Surely, women still liked flowers. He’d taken pains with his appearance, made sure he had no dirt under his fingernails. No doubt women still frowned on that. What he wasn’t sure of was his outfit. Olivia, in her excitement, laid it out for him. He grinned and glanced out the side window as a semi rolled by. Hell, she’d even shined his boots.

When his phone chirped, he glanced at the display and slipped in his Bluetooth earpiece. “Now what?”

“Make sure you hold her hand, Daddy. Cassidy said to tell you that.”

“Any other instructions, boss lady?”

“Flattery. Lots of flattery, but don’t be fake about it. Women are too smart for that.”

How had he raised such an intelligent daughter?

Nerves dive bombed in his stomach when he knocked on the back door of the LaRoche ranch house ten minutes later. The door opened, and his tongue nearly rolled out. Lacy wore a top to match her name, white lace over a red camisole. A generous amount of cleavage drew his attention. Her black skirt hit those thighs about midway. Thighs he longed to stroke.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Her mouth opened and closed twice before a large smile spread. “Hey, cowboy. Come on inside.” She stepped back and motioned for him to come in.

That’s when he nearly dropped to his knees. She wore red stilettos with ankle straps.
Hot damn
.

Before he allowed his sex-starved hormones to turn him into a rutting bull, he hobbled inside and handed her the bouquet of flowers. “Here. These reminded me of you. Vibrant and full of life. Yet feminine, very feminine.” Olivia would be proud of him.

“Oh, my.” Lacy held the bouquet to her nose and inhaled.

Then he saw a contradictory sight, a wide smile and tear-filled eyes.

“I’m speechless.”

Cold day in hell, Sugar.

“I love orange roses. Most women like red roses or, if they’re from Texas, they prefer yellow. But my favorite has always been orange roses. Always. They say orange roses are a sign of passion and excitement. I don’t know how passionate I am, but I’m certainly excited.” Her glossy lips pursed. “Guess a lady shouldn’t say that.” She sashayed over to the sink with the bouquet. “Daisies signify purity and loyal love.”

He followed the swaying hips, and then backed against the counter so he could take weight off his foot. He watched the expressions play out on her face as she talked. She was a study in energy and frankness. Whatever was flitting through her mind tumbled right out of her mouth. After Anna Beth’s deceit, this young woman’s honesty was appealing. No wonder he was drawn to her.

What expressions would play out on her face as they made love? And he
would
make love to her. Suddenly, his need for this woman eclipsed any hesitations he’d wrestled with on his drive here.

She opened a cabinet door and pulled out a vase. “There’s ferns here, too. Ferns signify magic and mystery.” Her gaze slid to his. “I read a lot.”

“So does Olivia. In fact, I sometimes worry she hides from life between the covers of books.”

As she sniped off the ends of the flowers, her blonde curls bobbed when she nodded. “Yes, I’ve done that, too. I was an awkward teenager. Shy, yet driven. Clumsy, yet skilled on the back of a horse. Does she ride? ’Cause the relationship between a horse and its owner is a sacred, powerful, healing thing.” She glanced at him with earnest turquoise eyes. “Remember when you told me that years ago?” A blush kissed her cheeks. “If I remember correctly, those were your exact words, too.”

“You were always crazy about horses. Guess that’s why we spent time together. I could sense your need to know everything about them.”

Nervous hands shifted and rearranged flowers. “You were a good teacher.”

Tyler slowly trailed a finger up her arm. The barest of touch, and yet it affected him so badly he wanted to take her in his arms. By the sight of her parted lips and nipples pebbling beneath her camisole, he was affecting her, too.

“Are you ready for my hello kiss, Lacy?”

She swallowed and nodded.

Oh, yeah, by the glazed look in her eyes, she was more than ready. He pulled her to him and took her in his arms. Gaze locked on hers, he slowly touched her lips with his and felt the first heady rush of passion.

Sweet Jesus.

Chapter Eleven

Her knees were going to give out.

Lacy’s trembling hands fisted in Tyler’s white Western shirt so she wouldn’t slink to the floor. The man’s lips could turn her bones to jelly.

Meanwhile, he groaned and pivoted, backing her against the counter with every inch of his muscled, hard body flush against hers—and several inches of him were delightfully hard. When his tongue touched hers, wetness pooled low.

His hands moved behind her to cup her bottom. He rocked her against him, and colored lights exploded behind her closed eyelids.
Oh, God, I’m going to have an orgasm right here at my kitchen sink. I’ll grin like a fool every time I wash dishes from now on
.

Warm lips trailed kisses from her mouth, across her cheek and down over her jaw line. By turns, he nipped and kissed her jaw and neck.

“Lacy, you taste so damn sweet.”

“Don’t talk. Just kiss me.” She rose on her tiptoes to meet him part way.

Laughter rumbled in his chest, a warm, rich delightful sound that pleased her.

“Oh, Sugar, coming from you, that’s rich.” He kissed her again, long and slow before pulling back. “Come on. If I don’t soon get you out of here, I’m liable to do something you’ll regret later.”

“Which wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

Right now, she wanted him to drag her down the hallway to her bedroom. Or maybe she’d drag him. The time to finish what their first kiss started weeks ago was now—or so her hormones cried.

That slow, badass smile spread in a face still bruised. “No, it wouldn’t. I have a feeling when it happens between us—and it
will
happen—it’ll be a very good thing.” He extended his hand. “Come on. My daughter says I’m supposed to hold your hand tonight.”

“Olivia gave you dating tips?” She laughed.

He slowly maneuvered to the door. “What can I say? She worries about me. I date so seldom.”

“Where are your crutches?” She just now noticed he didn’t have them.

A snap of the fingers accompanied another smile. “Dang, I forgot them.”

“Uh-huh, anytime a man uses ‘dang,’ you know he’s lying.”

Tyler laughed the whole way to his pickup.

Conversation on the way to the Lonesome Steer flowed easily enough. Lacy was happy she hadn’t prattled and said something stupid. She tried very hard to draw Tyler out just like Gus instructed. The easiest way, she found, was to ask questions about Olivia. Tyler beamed when he spoke of her.

If only her own father had stuck around long enough to be a part of her life. Thank goodness for Grandpa. Grandma, too. Both had showed her unconditional love, just as it seemed Tyler did for his child. Her mother, on the other hand, had unconditional love and desire for meth—and it had killed her. For all she knew, her father was dead, too. Men had a way of rejecting her for one reason or another.

The large parking lot was nearly half-full when they arrived. “Looks like we’ve come at a good time. Hungry?” Tyler asked after he’d parked the truck.

She reached for her door handle. “Yes, I am.”

His hand covered hers. “What are you doing?”

Those talented lips of his hovered above hers, his masculinity magically stroking every cell of her being.

Lord, he was a six-foot-three shiver waiting to gallop pell-mell up her spine. “I…ah…I was opening my door so I could get out.”

He whispered gentle kisses, first to one side of her mouth and then to the other. “When you’re with a man, is that your job?”

All the breath she’d been holding whooshed out, and she frowned. “Is this a trick question?” Gus told her allowing a man to do things for her was a way to reinforce his male pride. Personally, she found it silly.

“Opening doors for a lady is a man’s job. Wearing short skirts to drive a man crazy with need…” He trailed a finger from her knee up her thigh and stopped at her hemline. “…is a woman’s job.”

For an instant, her body’s reaction to his touch overrode her feelings on equality between men and women. “Oh, you are so full of it. That’s downright chauvinistic.”

“Maybe, but it’s the way this relationship’s going to work.” He turned away from her and opened his door to get out.

By the time he maneuvered around the front of his truck to open her door for her, she was ready. More than ready. “Relationship? I don’t recall our deciding we were going to have a relationship.”

She was shocked into silence for a second at his intense expression. His jaw was set and lips drawn into a thin line. Dark eyes were narrowed. Even though he appeared agitated, he placed his hands at her waist and helped her down. One hard hand clasped her side as he closed the door. His nonchalant actions made her feel feminine and protected.
Oh, this could be bad
.

She had to keep on talking so she wouldn’t think or react to his virility. “You are talking dating right? How does dating morph into a relationship?” She tugged on the hem of her top. “Guess we are too old for the term ‘going steady.’ But a relationship signifies—”

He leaned in, pushing her back against the side of the truck. “Woman.” His lips found hers and set to emptying her mind.

“Oh, man,” she sighed against his lips as her arms wound around his neck.

Deep laughter shook his body for an instant. “Now, you’re getting it.” He angled his head and took the kiss deeper.

The next time he pulled back, she gazed into dark eyes. “My toes are curled again.”

Tyler took her by the arm and turned her toward the door of the honky tonk. “Then it’s time we go inside. Mine were commencing to curl, too.”

She looked at him, trying to judge if he were making fun of her. “Yeah?”

The expression on his face was serious, which she found perplexing. “Oh, yeah. Most definitely, yes.”

Having a meal with Tyler was an experience like none other. He fed her bites of his steak while asking her questions, and then ate off her plate when he answered hers. They exchanged tidbits about their lives, and he told her stories about breeding his brand of rodeo bulls. Slowly, she was learning the attitudes of her one-time crush. He enjoyed hard work, cherished his family—and had a huge sweet tooth.

“How can you have two pieces of cheesecake and still have a flat stomach?” She opened her mouth as he fed her another bite.

“Good genes, I guess. Now, let me get this straight.” He added two packs of sugar to his coffee and stirred. “You have a degree in graphic design with a minor in marketing, and yet you’re cooking and cleaning for your grandpa?” He sipped his coffee, winced and added another pack of sugar. “What you’re saying doesn’t quite compute.”

She chuckled at his remark. “Cooking and cleaning isn’t the only thing I do. Grandpa built an addition for me that contains an office, and I’ve started a small web-design business. My list of clients is slowly growing. I’ve also been writing a few articles for computer magazines. Granted, it’s not the kind of life I dreamed of, but things happen to alter our dreams—or kill them altogether.”

He tilted his head to the side. “That’s a rather fatalistic attitude. I remember you as being a quiet, dreamy sort of girl. You seemed so awed by life.”

She ran her hands through her curls. “That Pollyanna girl is long gone, I’m afraid. Now I know most people would just as soon hurt you as to help you.”

She pushed her plate back and looked over the crowd in the honky tonk.
Don’t get maudlin. Don’t allow anything or anyone to spoil tonight.
When she returned her gaze to his, she forced a weak smile.

His forehead furrowed as he studied her for a few beats. He pressed the back of his fork into the remaining crumbs of the cheesecake’s crust and then inserted the fork between his lips to finish off the crumbs. “That’s an odd philosophy for someone who seems so open with her feelings.” As he spoke, he shook his fork at her.

“Life changes us sometimes.” She exhaled a long sigh. “And if I seem open, it’s because I get nervous around you and can’t seem to shut up. My mouth takes on a mind of its own and runs amuck.”

“Personally, I think you have a very nice mouth.”