Rodeo Blues (16 page)

"I'm staying, Jolie. I'm not going anywhere.
This is my last rodeo event." He met her gaze and hoped she would
see the truth there.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I want
to believe you, but—"

He didn't let her finish. He pulled the swing
closer and kissed her, not letting her voice her concerns. He
closed his eyes as she kissed him back. "Don't give up on us," he
murmured against her lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, a plea for
her to remember how good they were together. How good they could
still be.

Her palm pressed against his chest and she
pushed him away. The swings parted them, hers swinging gently until
she settled her feet on the ground. Her lips were red from his
caress and her cheeks had flushed. "You're not getting it," she
said. "There's no us. We're strangers caught up in the moment of
what we once shared." Her hand self-consciously brushed her mouth
as if she were remembering his kiss despite her words. "I'm
attracted to you," she admitted. "I'm not going to deny it. Kissing
and," her cheeks flushed, "and other things were never a problem
for us, were they?"

No, kissing and
the other
things
, as she put it, had never been an issue. In bed
they'd always been in sync, but her question was rhetorical and he
treated it as such.

"Why did you return to Skeeter Blue?" she
asked. "Why now? The truth." Her hand rested on his forearm, and
her gaze was direct.

"For you, Jolie. You know that."

"I know no such thing. Why now? Ten years.
Ten long years, and now you ride in as if time stood still, while
you decided what you wanted in life. Let me tell you a little
secret: After a year with no news from you, I didn't stand around
and pine for your return."

"Didn't say you did." He scrubbed his
face.

"Are you meeting with Jhett on Monday?" she
asked, throwing him off kilter with the question.

"Who told you?" Though he was pretty sure it
had been Jhett. The business would have received his letter from
the lawyers about a meeting on Monday. He had the majority of
shares. He'd bought out the company without them even realizing it.
But Jhett didn't know what the meeting was about. Tye wanted to
discuss the details in person. Wanted to see his face when he told
him he'd lost his daddy's business, but what did Jolie think was
going to happen at this meeting? What had Jhett told her?

She shook her head as the silence thickened
between them "It's true. You plan on meeting with Jhett," she
confirmed it herself, and he didn't deny it. Disappointment
shadowed her eyes, but her gaze held his.

He was the first to glance away. She wanted
to believe the worst of him and he wasn't going to stop her. He
wanted to be with her, but he also didn't want her questioning his
every move as if he had a secret agenda. So what if he was going to
close Reeves Construction? Since Jhett took over the company, it
had been steadily losing money. His right as the majority share
holder, he could decide what should be done with it. Why should he
keep losing money? He closed his eyes. He could argue all day on
the rights and wrongs of what he planned, but deep down he knew the
truth. He wanted for once to win a fight with Jhett. Why couldn't
she just let him have this one win?

"You may be years older and wiser," she said,
"but deep down you're still that little boy who wants to
give it
to the Jhetts of this world. The
ones who believe money is an excuse for bad manners."

"Do you blame me?" he blurted out before he
could stop himself, proving her point. Sure, he couldn't pretend
he'd like nothing more than to do just what she said, and come
Monday, he had every intention of doing a little gloating.

Her lips curved into a sad smile. "Maybe not,
but I don't want any part of what you're planning. I want a man by
my side, not a boy who's still licking his wounds."

"Jolie, I—"

She held up her hand, halting his words and
his attempt to pull her into his arms. "I wish you the best," she
told him. "I truly do."

With those words, she stood and left him
sitting there staring after her.

* * * * *

After Jolie left him, he didn't want to go
back to the hotel. He sauntered over to Big Bob's Saloon where only
a few people were seated. Most of the town folks were still over at
the stage enjoying what was left of the barbecue.

He sat at the bar. "Whiskey neat, Stan."

Stan looked him over long and hard before he
reached for the bottle. "Whatcha doin' in here? I can still hear
the band playin' so I know the night's still young."

"I could say the same about you."

"I stay open for my regulars." He nodded to
the end of the bar where one man sat nursing his drink. Stan then
leveled his gaze on him again. "Thought you'd be dancing with your
gal," Stan said.

His gal? Stan's words hit him hard, making
his already bruised heart ache a little more. Jolie was his gal.
Only she'd forgotten it. He loved her and she admitted she still
held some kind of affection toward him. Didn't that mean there was
still hope for them? He glanced at Stan.

"You know, on second thought, forget the
drink." He didn't care how small a chance he had. Staying here and
drinking wouldn't help the process. He would have to coax her back
into his arms, for good this time. He stood and grabbed his
hat.

Tye drove to Jolie's house with
determination. She couldn't just accuse him of wrong doing when he
hadn't done anything to warrant such a response. She had to at
least hear him out. He wasn't the bad guy here. Jhett had run the
business into the ground. If he hadn't snatched it up, then another
man would have, and since he owned most of the shares, shouldn't he
have a say on whether the company closed or not?

Chapter Twenty-One

Jolie plopped down on the couch and removed
her boots. The quiet of her home proved welcoming after the
activity at the fairgrounds. She wiggled her toes that were feeling
all kinds of happy for their release from their confines. Settling
back against the cushions, she glanced around her living room.
She'd decorated her living room with warm colors of greens, dark
blues, and browns. Throw pillows propped on the couches, big and
inviting, and her favorite chair, next to the window, was a plush
comfy chair to curl up on when the weather turned cold. The
comforter her mother made for her thirteenth birthday was draped
over the back. It was the last item her mother had ever made
her.

Tye had been there for her when her mother
breathed her last breath. Cancer took too many good people – took
her mother far too young.

Tye had stayed with her at the hospital. He
always knew what to do to make her day a little more bearable, and
when her mother passed, he never pushed her to grieve or should she
say, grieve in a way her Aunt Carrie wanted her to grieve. Tears
and carrying on wasn't her way. Tye realized her turning to school
work and chores had been her way of grieving. She didn't have to
burst into tears every few minutes to signify she missed her
mother. Later, anger proved her next step in expressing her
feelings, but he didn't scare easily, even when she tried to take
out her fury on him.

Growing up, Tye had been her best friend and
her confidant. She not only loved him. She liked him and those two
things weren't always one and the same.

She had believed they would one day marry.
Thought they'd build a life together, have a few children…grow old
together. They talked about it. Tye had carved their initials in
the tree back yonder at her father's house with the infinity sign
beneath their letters.
Our love's forever,
he'd told her.

"Childish dreams," she murmured to the
shadows creeping into the room and the twilight deepening into
night. She leaned over and turned on the lamp that was seated on
the end table next to her.

She'd dated other guys since high school. She
really liked a young man she'd met in college, but it never
progressed to more than friendship, at least on her part. Not that
the guy didn't want to marry her. He did. He asked. She said no.
She hadn't loved him…not like how she'd loved Tye Casper. "I loved
you so much." Her fingers went to her lips as if she could feel his
caress. She sounded pathetic, didn't she? Her emotions were all
over the place and she blamed him for causing them to be. She
wanted him to go. She wanted him to stay. She squeezed her eyes
closed as she thought of his mouth on hers…his hands on her
skin…

Rap tap tap…

"Tye?" she whispered and her eyes flew open.
No, she was imagining he was here—but the rapid knocks came
again.

She stood and walked to the edge of the
living room and peeked around the corner to stare at the front door
as if it had suddenly come alive. Her heart sure thought so with
the way it pounded. Her hand went to her chest as if this would
slow it down a bit. No such luck.

Before she knew it, her feet moved toward the
door, knowing before she opened it that Tye would be standing
there.

He didn't wait to be asked in, but strode in
with his hat in his hand. She didn't stop him. Not sure she could.
Not sure she wanted to.

"We need to have us a real honest to goodness
sit down," he said as he placed his hat on the coat rack in the
corner.

He wanted to chat? Her brows furrowed.
Talking would just mess up everything. Right now she just needed
him, just wanted him to be with her as if nothing else mattered.
She wanted to believe in miracles, that they could really have a
future together. They were both consenting adults. Heck, they were
married. Tomorrow she'd let her logical side step in and demand
order.

Her feet moved before she could second-guess
her irrational decision. Her arms went around his neck. "Sometimes,
you talk way too much, Tye Casper."

His gaze searched her face, obviously not
trusting what she offered, though his hands seemed to know as they
wandered to her waist and pulled her closer. The heat from his
palms a tease. She knew what those talented hands could do, knew
how they felt against her bare flesh. "Tell me to go," he said,
"because if you don't, I plan on taking you to bed." His voice was
raw with need, something she understood all too well.

"What are you waiting for then?" she
countered with a challenge she knew he wouldn't refuse.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Tye didn't hesitate a moment longer. When a
woman wanted to be loved nice and proper, he wasn't going to deny
her the pleasure. Especially when, said woman, so happened to be
the woman he loved. "Where?" he asked as he took her hand and
started for the back rooms.

"The room on the right is my bedroom."

He pushed opened the door and barely shut it
behind them before her hands went for his belt. Once removed, he
helped her out of her shirt. Layers of clothes piled up fast before
they fell onto the bed. It was as if they couldn't get enough of
each other. At least it proved true on his end. He'd been starved
for her touch and hadn't known the full extent of his starvation
until he had her in his arms.

Every sensation assaulted him at once—her
hands on his face as she kissed with tongue and teeth, and her body
pressed against his so firm, but also soft in all the right places.
God in heaven he wanted her, wanted her with every part of his
soul, but this frantic need she displayed wasn't like her. Or at
least hadn't been hours before. What had changed? He didn't want
their tumbling into bed to be something she regretted later. He'd
done so many things to screw up this relationship. He didn't want
to add another one to the growing pile.

He ended the kiss with painful reluctance.
Gripping her shoulders he peered into her eyes. "Last chance," he
offered, his voice rough on the edge of breathlessness.