Breaking the Bad Boy (13 page)

“Come here and kiss me, Duchess.” His voice was hoarse.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” she replied a little breathlessly.

“Quit thinking, Duchess, you do too much of it. Come on, a little pain, a little pleasure,” he smiled at her.

“Can’t you ever be serious?”

“I’m serious as a heart attack.” He looked at her and his mouth made a frown. “Sorry, poor choice of expressions.” She grinned at him and his eyes closed again and she was pretty sure he was waiting for her to kiss him and not sleeping, but she couldn’t tell.

The last thing she did was slather Neosporin all over his chest. “You’re all set, Buck,” she said quietly and left to wash her hands, when she came back out of the bathroom he was asleep. She threw a blanket over him, turned out the light and left him to his dreams, feeling oddly disconcerted.

She called Brent to tell him the good news.

“Ben’s probably still there at the hospital, he’s looking kind of rough. Buck’s a little torn up, but he’s irrepressible,” she told him.

“Joss, about Buck,” Brent started.

“Mmm,” she said not wanting to discuss him.

“It’s just that Belle thinks…Never mind, you’re an adult. Don’t get hurt, honey,” he said.

“You mean don’t get naked in the barn,” she said.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” he said.

“I got it, Brent, please can we try to forget that? It was years ago and I was a troubled child. It only happened once.” She said.

“Once was enough,” he said.

“I promise never to get caught having sex in the barn again. Are you happy?” She said.

“Christ, Joss, I just had a heart attack, can we stop talking about you having… you know?” Brent pleaded.

“You brought it up, but I would be happy to never discuss it with you again.” She did tire of the subject, but then thoughts of Buck lying in a sunbeam on a blanket in the loft, reaching for her with that mouth making its sexy grin.

“Joss, are you still there?”

“Sorry, yes. What?”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, honey, I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, goodnight, Dad,” she said and hung up. She needed to focus.

She called Margie to catch her up.

“How’s your dad?”

“Much better, how’s my cat?”

“He misses you, but he’s happy to see me when I get home. Your cable went out; there were some guys here today to fix it. They said there was no charge,” Margie said.

“That’s good, because I don’t have cable,” she said.

“Really? They were here for like an hour; don’t you think they would have noticed?”

“Margie, do you feel safe?”

“Josh has been staying here with me, I feel safe with him,” she said.

“Good, I find that a little weird. If you don’t feel safe I can board Felix, okay?” Joss said.

“You’re over thinking it, Joss.” She heard that twice in one night.

“Maybe, I’ll call you later,” Joss said and hung up.

She ate some celery and poured a glass of frozen vodka and went outside. The night was cool and the sky was clear, and she was very happy to be home, and absurdly happy to have Buck home. The viscous liquid slid right down her throat easily, and made her warm and nostalgic. Happy memories of Brand were with her, not just the tragic loss of him. It was refreshing to think of his wide smile and playful spirit, his laughter and kind heart. As always she wondered what he’d look like as an adult.

He’d be tall; there was no getting around that, he was already tall at the age of twelve. He’d probably look like a less beat up version of Brent, with her generous mouth and straight nose. Brand’s skin was duskier than hers; he tanned more easily and didn’t get the freckles that plagued his sister. Would he have remained on the ranch? Or would he have found some other path? Would he have a girlfriend, or a wife? They would have had kids, lots of towheaded kids running around calling her aunt. She would never be an aunt, she realized, unless she married a man with siblings.

She heard a thump very close to her and she started, but it was just the cat, the dogs didn’t even flinch. He rubbed his face on her leg and jumped in her lap again. This was a well fed barn cat, she thought. Fernando must be feeding them, despite her father’s orders. The old softie.

The cat woke her when he left her lap, and she locked up and made her way back to her room, bleary and exhausted. She brushed and stripped and put an aged t-shirt on and fell into bed and a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Five

The sun was up when she finally opened her eyes, and she nestled into the warmth behind her in the coolness of the morning and she closed her eyes again making a deeply contented sound. The arm that was around her pulled her closer and she sighed again, leaning back. Her eyes shot open yet again. “Fuck!” She said trying to get out of the bed, but Buck pulled her back to him, his arm uncompromising.

“I’m trying, Duchess, but you keep moving away. Come here,” he said thickly into her hair, his erection pressing up against her behind.

“I completely forgot you were here,” she said.

“That actually hurt, Duchess,” he said softly into her neck.

“Let me go, how’s your chest?” She said turning around to face him.

“Fine, how’s yours?” His eyes dropped to her chest and he made a face. “Oh my, that is the ugliest t-shirt I’ve ever seen, why don’t you take it off?” He said propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at her through half closed eyes. She looked down at her shirt and looked sad. Years ago she cut the sleeves off and the collar out of it. The neck had ripped so that it was now falling off one shoulder. It was large enough so that both of them could fit in it if they had to, but it was incredibly soft and comfortable from a thousand washings. His eyes had moved to her exposed shoulder and he was looking hungry.

“I love this t-shirt,” she said moving away from him. “Get up, it’s very late.” He sat up, looked around the room, and focused on Joss again. His face had very little beard despite the fact that he couldn’t have shaved in the past four days. He looked at the Picasso and his eyes showed the specter of old pain.

“What have you done to me, Duchess? I have no memory of this place.”

“Get out of my room before people see you, Gandalf,” she said and he grinned because she caught his reference.

“We just spent the night together and it looks like I slept through it. Damn, I hope you were gentle with me, Duchess.” Joss couldn’t help herself and she laughed. “They already suspect we’re all over each other. If your father is going to have his henchmen slit my throat, we may as well enjoy each other first,” he put his hands behind his head and leaned casually against the headboard. He had very little underarm hair either, and she wondered if it was just Norsemen who had body hair.

“It’s funny, I figured
you
were my father’s henchman,” she said and he grinned.

“Come on, Duchess, you know you won’t be able to resist me for much longer. Give into your baser instincts and put that luscious mouth of yours around my cock.” She couldn’t help herself; she looked, and he watched her look. He had no hair above his navel, but below it there was a thin, dark line of curly hairs leading the way to his pubis. What would he do if she took him up on it, she wondered? She made a face at him.

“Last night we got close. Maybe too close for your overall comfort, so now you are actively trying to have me dislike you. Cut it out, Buck, I like you.” His eyebrows went up. She was the smart one in the family, leaps and bounds smarter than her mother. “It’s curious behavior. Are you afraid of me?”

“Terrified.”

“You are.” She smiled but she didn’t know why he would be.

“I am afraid of getting my throat slit without the benefit of having done anything to deserve it, Duchess. I’m ready to rectify that.”

He stood up and his towel fell away. He expected her to look away, but she didn’t. Yes, he was indeed ready to rectify that.

“You haven’t got a single tattoo,” she said in awe. “You’re the one.” He laughed and went into the bathroom and picked up his clothes, shutting the door behind him. He opened the door and stuck his head out.

“You know, that statement made it sound like you have a tattoo,” he said.

“No,” she said and he nodded and pulled his head back in. “I have two.” His head came back out of the door.

“No you don’t! Show me.” She shook her head.

“I’m not easy, long shanks, finish up and get out of here,” he laughed again and did just that.

***

“So what’s this fatwa you’ve put out on people who ‘lay hands’ on me, Brent?” She asked and he smirked.

“Working, is it?” He asked.

“No, it’s made people curious, I think. Three people yesterday thought it might just be worth it,” she said.

His smirk vanished. “Who?” She shook her head and smiled. “Dammit, Joss, you are going to be the death of me.”

“Don’t worry, Buck scared ‘em off,” she didn’t think he needed to know Buck was one of the three. “When do you come home?”

“A couple of days. The doc said no more red meat, I laughed in her face,” he said. Joss rolled her eyes.

“Brent, how do you make ends meet? You have a healthy bank balance; you have huge expenses, and a mediocre return. You should be in the poor house, but you’re not. How are you doing this?” He looked at her, really studied her. “I thought at first you must be selling off the land, but you’re not, last year you bought forty thousand acres.” His eyebrows went up.

“Where are you getting your information?”

“You asked me to look into things, so I did,” she said.

“You got into my accounts?” Brent was flabbergasted. “Those are password protected.”

“It wasn’t even a challenge,” she said smiling.

“Smart ass, I’m glad to see that expensive education wasn’t entirely wasted,” he said dryly.

“It’s not like they have courses in college for that, Brent, I’m just clever. Tell me what’s going on, Dad. There aren’t any drugs, are there?” Brent looked away from her then shook his head. “You have to give me something, Brent. Belle won’t tell me anything, Fernando won’t either. Buck is just a macho workaholic I can barely get a complete sentence out of. He does a lot of ‘Lock the doors when I’m gone, Duchess,’” she said in a very accurate Buck voice. “And you are always just a little too tired.”

“Duchess?” Brent asked her. She looked at him and blushed. She could feel the heat rise to the surface of her skin.

“He calls me that. Something about being a spoiled brat, I think,” she said rolling her eyes. Brent chuckled, then laughed, and then howled clutching his chest.

“That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard,” he laughed some more. “Look at your face, Joss.” He continued to laugh and she waited for him to finish up. He finally did. “That hurt like hell fire, but felt really good. Duchess, ha!”

“Ha, ha. You are avoiding the question, Brent,” she said.

“I don’t want to do this here,” he said.

“I want to help, Brent, but clearly you’re better, and I do have a real job despite what you may think about the questionable use of a degree in Art History. I should go home,” she said.

“Honey, don’t go back, not yet. I’ll tell you everything. But I
am
tired all the time. Wait until I’m home, we’ll sit down together and have it out, okay?”

“Okay, Dad.”

***

As soon as she got back to the ranch she went out to the barn and saddled the Appaloosa mare she rode the other day. She mounted and rode out at a gallop. Her new hat was on and her hair was flying out behind her, and she felt free for the first time in months. Her dad owned all the land as far as the eye could see, and with the recent purchase of the forty thousand acres, 90% of that land abutted forest service land. She loved the ranch and truth be told she did feel like a duchess sometimes.

Joss slowed her horse to a canter, and finally to a walk. The mare was blowing pretty hard, and it was very hot. Without conscious thought she found herself at the place she and Brand put up a tire swing. It was a hidden pool at the base of some rocks where they spent a good deal of their time when they were young. She felt very close to him here. The swing was long gone, but the peace of the place still pervaded.

Joss hobbled her horse after letting her drink and sat on the rocks looking down to the water below. Was she braver when she was younger, or was she just stupid? The jump to the water was much further than she remembered. The surrounding cottonwoods gave off a dappled shade and the breeze through the leaves made a soothing sound. The pool of water was deep and clear. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought and stripped down and jumped in the water. It was colder than she remembered, too.

Lying back in the water looking at the dark blue cloudless sky she grew up with, she floated. She ran the events of the past few days in her mind and kept returning to Buck, he was everywhere. She definitely would like to lose herself in Buck’s arms. Why did she have a thing for assholes? She touched her breast as she imagined him lying back in her bed, this time without the towel. Mmm, eventually, she thought.

His words last night puzzled her. It was odd how he went from earnest hero to misogynistic asshole. This adolescent attraction had to end, he was nothing but trouble. She was spending far too much time fantasizing about the cowboy. She dived under and stayed under for a long time until finally resurfacing just under the rock face.

Climbing back to the top of the rocks she lay down in the patch of sunshine to dry off. It didn’t take long to dry, but the sun felt good on her skin, and there was something so delicious about being nude out of doors that she just lay there warming on the rocks like a lizard. Finally warm and dry, she started to dress. Panties, bra, jeans, socks and boots, she wondered if she should just ride home like that, save her shirt for when she got closer to the ranch.

Shaking her head she bent to pick her shirt up off the rock when she caught an unfamiliar scent on the air, it was strong and musky, and fairly unpleasant and she had a bad feeling. She stood. Then she heard a grunt and a sniffing sound, she thought it might be a pig for a fraction of a second, but then suddenly every fiber of her being knew what the sound was and she froze, all the hairs on her body lifted off her in unison.

She was an idiot to come alone and unarmed into bear country, she probably deserved to be eaten. Her brain couldn’t remember what you were supposed to do when confronted with a bear, but she was pretty sure standing there like a statue wasn’t it.

“Don’t move, Duchess,” she heard Buck say from far off to her left. She heard a whimpering sound of relief come from her own body. Buck would keep her safe; she wasn’t facing down the bear alone. The sniffing was so close it was blowing her hair away from her neck with the force of each hot exhalation. She felt the heat of the bear’s body and realized he must be standing up directly behind her, and she stopped breathing. “Here, you big, stinky fucker, here boy,” Buck sounded closer.

Buck was trying to draw it off. No luck, the bear was more interested in Joss. Who could blame the bear? Joss was the proverbial bird in the hand.

“I’m going to make a ruckus, you tuck into a ball when I do, ready? Don’t answer that, just be ready.” He said, and then he counted to three and screamed like a perfect rendition of
Hollywood
’s version of an attacking tribe of Apaches. Since the hair was already lifted from her body, her skin tingled at the sound. At Buck’s suggestion she tucked tightly into a ball and fell to the rock, but not before the bear made a grab for her and ended up swatting her back. It was less of an aggressive move than a possessive move; she thought fleetingly, he just didn’t know his own strength, or how tender poor humans were. She hoped he wouldn’t discover that today.