Wrangled and Tangled
“Yes.” She tucked the bundle of sheets under her arm and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “Someone who doesn’t waste daylight. Who makes hay while the sun shines. Who doesn’t like to be beholden to anyone’s schedule but his own.”
He crowded her against the doorframe, rubbing his lips over hers with flirty kisses. “You oughta talk. I can’t believe you’re really takin’ today off.”
“I am. I deserve it.”
“That’s why I let you sleep in. I kept you up kinda late last night.”
Abe had locked himself in his office doing mysterious “paperwork” until past midnight. Then he’d woken her and rocked her world. “The late hours and the tangled sheets were well worth it.”
“Such a stroke to my ego. But I’ll take it. What are your plans for today?”
“Laundry.”
Abe frowned. “Janie. I already told you I don’t expect you to wash my clothes.”
“I don’t mind.” She ducked around him. For all the complaints she’d lodged during the last few months of their marriage about her household tasks, everything was different now. Abe didn’t expect her to do those things. Washing laundry and dishes, fixing meals and mopping floors wasn’t all she did—wasn’t all she was to him. Abe appreciated her efforts, which gave her a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment.
Her inner feminist jeered.
But she’d refused to listen to a voice that she’d discovered wasn’t hers.
“Need me to come down and help you stuff that in?” he yelled from the hallway.
“Funny.”
When she returned upstairs, Abe loitered in the kitchen.
“Since it’s so gorgeous out, I think I’ll hang the clothes on the clothesline.”
“Great. Now I’ll have a hard-on all damn day.”
“Why?”
“I catch a glimpse of white cotton flapping in the wind, and I’ll think about all the dirty things I wanna do to you between those clean sheets tonight.”
Janie smirked. “Go do your manly ranching stuff, Abe.”
“You’ll be here when I get back?”
“I plan on it.”
He dropped another peck on her lips. “Good. As much as I love the smokin’-hot sex, I’m glad you can finally admit that’s not all there is between us.”
Last night, after a particularly intense moment, she’d whispered how much she liked being with him, regardless if they were naked. And Abe, being Abe, pushed the point until she confessed it’d been about more than sex with them from the start. Rather than feeling trapped by the admission, she’d felt . . . liberated. In control of her destiny for the first time in years.
The day was unseasonably warm for November, allowing her to leave the doors open to air out the house. She hung up the sheets and several pairs of Abe’s jeans, feeling like a total sap when she found herself humming while she worked. She’d started doing that a lot. Truth was, she was happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time.
She loved when evening rolled around and they chatted about their workdays. Cooking together. Snuggling on the couch after they’d loaded the dishwasher. No more of Abe plopping himself on the easy chair to watch TV after supper while she cleaned up the kitchen. Abe didn’t help because it was expected. He helped because he liked to spend time with her. No matter if they were cooking, or washing dishes, or fucking each other silly.
Their couple status meant they’d been invited to Hank and Lainie’s for supper a few times. And to Bran and Harper’s for dessert and poker. It was all so nauseatingly normal.
Yet, it wasn’t. New and improved didn’t begin to describe the changes in each of them individually and when they were together. It made her long for things she’d feared she could never have. Especially not with this man.
She swept the front deck with an old broom. She boiled potatoes for supper. Cranked the music while she vacuumed. Blissfully lost track of time. She’d wandered among the building debris downstairs, debating on whether Abe would ever consider masculine wallpaper instead of just paint.
The front door slammed. Then the back door slammed. Abe bellowed, “Janie? Where are you?”
“Down here.”
Thump thump thump down the stairs. Abe rushed her, wrapping her in a bear hug that actually lifted her feet off the floor. He held her so tenaciously she felt his entire body vibrating.
“Abe? What’s going on?”
“I need you to come outside with me.” He leaned back and studied her, those serious gray eyes never wavering from hers.
Her heart raced. Since she’d moved in with Abe, there’d been no more incidents that could be attributed to her stalker and she hoped to heaven that wasn’t about to change. “Should I be worried?”
“No. Come on.” He took her hand, led her up the stairs and out the front door.
Sheriff Bullard leaned against his patrol car next to a scrawny boy and another man. He acknowledged her with a curt, “Janie,” and a nod of his head.
Janie gripped Abe’s hand tightly. “Sheriff. Is something wrong?”
He jerked his chin to the boy whose red face nearly matched the color of his hair. “This is Bobby Callan, Junior. Bobby has something to say to you.” The sheriff motioned for Bobby to move closer.
Bobby shuffled forward and swallowed nervously. He dropped his chin to his chest, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his baggy jeans.
“Look her in the eye, boy,” the other man prompted.
He lifted his head and blurted, “I’m the one who caused your car crash. And I’m so sorry. It was an accident, I swear! I came up on you fast and didn’t know what to do after the first time I hit you. I meant to step on the brake but I was so scared I accidentally stepped on the gas and hit you again. Then you swerved just as I was about to pass you, the corner of my truck hit the back end of your car and it headed for the ditch. And I—I didn’t stick around to see if you were o-k-kay. I’m so sorry.” The rest of his words were lost in his stuttering sobs.
Janie seemed to be frozen in place as she stared at the sobbing kid. He was barely big enough to see over the steering wheel. How had he gotten ahold of a vehicle? She looked at the man she assumed was the boy’s father.
The guy ambled up to stand beside the kid, but didn’t offer to comfort him. He nodded at Abe like he knew him. “I can’t believe my son stupidly decided he’d steal my old feed truck and take it for a joyride when his mom and I weren’t home. I hadn’t paid much attention until I went out two days ago to switch out the battery and noticed the crumpled right front quarter panel. I looked closer at the scrapes around the cattle guard, imbedded with flecks of paint, so I knew there was only one explanation: someone had driven it and been in an accident. I asked Junior about it and he came clean.” He shot the kid a dark look, then locked his gaze to Janie’s. “There ain’t no excuse for what he did, causing an accident and then just takin’ off. I’m more embarrassed and sorry than you can ever know. We raised him better than that. It’s . . .” His voice broke. “I’m grateful that Abe came upon the accident as soon as he did or this would be an entirely different conversation.”
“I ain’t gonna lie, Bobby, I’m upset because Janie was seriously hurt,” Abe said to the man. “But I’ve known you for a few years and you ain’t the type to pass the buck, so I appreciate you comin’ here and telling us in person.”
“We wanted to let you know that we’re filing an insurance claim to reimburse you for the car repairs and the medical costs. What the insurance don’t cover, we’ll repay. Junior is gonna be working for a long goddamn time to pay us back. And I suspect he’ll be lucky if he’s allowed to drive before he’s eighteen.”
Bobby Junior wiped his arm across his face and looked at Janie. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
Janie couldn’t seem to make her mouth work, so she merely nodded.
Sheriff Bullard opened the rear door of the patrol car for Bobby and his son. Then he walked to Janie. “I’m sorry about all this. Not a good way to welcom
e you back to Muddy Gap, huh?”
“No. I’m just relieved that . . .” She couldn’t finish.
Abe’s arm came around her shoulder and he pulled her against his body. “Thanks for staying on top of this, Sheriff.”
“I wish I could take credit. The unfortunate thing is this would still be an open case if not for Bobby Senior bringing it to us. Sad fact is a lot of parents around here wouldn’t have.”
“I know that only too well.”
The sheriff shifted his weight and addressed Abe. “About that other thing you asked me to check on? Took some doin’, but I found out why the guy that was . . . ah, harassing Miz Fitzhugh, disappeared. He died. Massive stroke. No family, so no obituary, but I had the death records checked and it was confirmed.” He patted Abe’s arm. “Take care, Lawson.”
As soon as the patrol car was out of sight, Janie’s knees buckled. Abe caught her, scooped her into his arms and carried her into the house.
Janie knew it was stupid to fall apart now, but she couldn’t help it. Was it really over? She could scarcely wrap her head around what it meant. She curled into Abe so tightly she was practically inside his clothing. He held her, soothed her, proved he knew what she needed and gave it to her without hesitation or restriction.
God, she loved him. As much as she wanted to look in his beautiful gray eyes and tell him how she felt, she held back. It was too much too soon. Abe might believe her confession was a knee-jerk reaction to the truth about the accident and the final chapter in that nasty part of her past.
Her thoughts backtracked to the first time she’d told him she loved him after they’d started dating. Abe had sort of patted her on the head, mumbling about it being too soon to make declarations. She hadn’t the guts to say it to him again until after she knew he felt the same way.
Abe loosened her arms, eased her back to wipe her tears and tenderly kiss her lips. “Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“I’m sorry. If you hadn’t been out here that morning, you might’ve avoided this.”
“If I hadn’t been out here that morning, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
He smiled softly. “Well. There is that.” He swept his knuckles down her cheek. “So does this put an end to your fears about that Dave guy finding you?”
She nodded. “Why did you ask the sheriff to look into it?”
“I couldn’t sit around and do nothin’. I felt so goddamn helpless. Happy as I am that he’s not a threat to you anymore, part of me wishes I could tear that son of a bitch apart, limb by limb.”
Of course Abe would push for answers, even if he had to hide it from her. He defined tenacious and protective.
He peered into her eyes. “You don’t seem happy.”
“I am. But I still don’t know who pushed me.”
“Is it possible when you started to trip the wind came up, making it seem like you were pushed? I’ve been knocked on my ass by Wyoming wind a time or two.”
Janie smoothed her hand across his ruggedly handsome face. “Maybe. Or we could go with Willie’s explanation that I somehow pissed off the bad spirits around the Split Rock.”
He didn’t say anything.
“What?”
“If those bad spirits are still gunning for you, it’d probably be best you stay here with me instead of returning to the resort. For your own protection.”
For her own protection. Right. Abe doing his duty. God forbid he’d admit he wanted her here for himself. She smiled, taking the coward’s way out, reminding him of her temporary position. “Beats crashing in that crappy trailer at the Split Rock for however long I end up working there.” She disentangled herself from his arms. “Are you ready for supper?”
Chapter Nineteen
Two whirlwind days of dealing with a new venue took its toll. Renner made no promises to the promoters that Jackson Stock Contracting would be involved the following year. But that stress and the long drive was all behind him as he knocked on Tierney’s door.
She twisted the shade to peer out the window. Her smile was a thing of beauty. The locks clicked and the door swung inward. “When did you get back?”
Not cool to admit being so eager to see her that he’d showered, shaved and raced out of his trailer a mere ten minutes after he’d parked his truck. “A while ago.” He waggled a bottle of zinfandel at her. “I hoped you’d have a nightcap with me.” His gaze started at her sock-clad feet, and moved up the black and white checked pajamas straight out of a 1930s movie.
Tierney hugged herself against the blast of cold air. “I don’t know—”
Crowding her into the wall, he kept her arms immobilized as he fed her soft-lipped kisses. While the blow job had been great, outstanding really, he wasn’t about to take a backseat to Tierney when it came to sex. He’d been planning this seduction all damn day.
Renner kissed the curves of her lips, her cheeks, the section of skin in front of her ears, between her eyebrows, until she emitted a sexy sigh. “You wanna get some glasses? Or we giving in to my redneck side and drinkin’ it straight outta the bottle?”
“Glasses. Definitely.”
He toed off his boots, hung up his coat and made sure the condoms were accessible. The entire house was visible from where he stood. Only the bedroom and the bathroom had doors that closed. The wide-open space retained a coziness he found appealing.
Tierney set the glasses on the coffee table and poured. “What really brings you by tonight?”
“I oughta be hurt that you suspect I have ulterior motives.”
“You oughta be used to me questioning you on everything by now,” she volleyed back.
He laughed. “True.”
Sitting next to him on her overstuffed couch, Tierney clinked her glass to his. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” He drank most of his in one gulp. “What’ve you been doin’ tonight?”
“Catching up on projects.”
“What kind of projects?”
“Quarterly reports for companies on the chopping block. I’m trying to sort through nine months of P&Ls to ascertain whether pumping more money into them would change the long-term financial gain or if we’d be better off selling them, or closing them outright.”
“Sounds . . . interesting.”
“If you like picking apart every blasted expense and weighing it against past, current and projected income. It’s tedious.”
He faced her, gently pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Why do it?”
She shrugged. “I’m good at it. I’m not good at a lot of things, so I stick with what I know.” She swallowed a healthy gulp of burgundy liquid. “This is a great zin. Where’d you find it?”
“At the bar at the lodge. I figured if we planned to serve it in the dining room, we oughta at least know firsthand if it tastes like vinegar.” Renner smooched her, murmuring, “I like this wine. But I like it best when I’m tasting it from your lips.”
“Sweet-talker. Kiss me.”
“Maybe I’m waiting for you to kiss me.”
And kiss him she did. Steadily. Impatiently. She’d only allow their lips to part to take another breath before she sought his mouth again. He handed over the reins to see how far she’d take them.
But he didn’t touch her beyond the gentle stroking of his thumb on the base of her neck. A buzzing sound echoed to him and he knew it wasn’t his cell, since he’d left his phone in his trailer. He glided his damp lips across hers. “Your phone is buzzing.”
“I thought it was my head buzzing from the wine. Or from you.”
“Now who’s the sweet-talker?”
“Be right back.” She scooted off the couch.
Renner topped off their glasses. When he glanced at her, she wore that cute wrinkle on her forehead as she poked buttons on her BlackBerry.
“Something wrong?”
“No. Just a text from my sister. She’ll be out of phone range for a week and didn’t want me to worry.”
“Where’s she gonna b
e that they don’t have cell service? Wyoming?”
“Ha ha. No, she’ll be in the Amazon rain forest.” She picked up her wineglass and took a long sip. “Love my baby sister, but we are total opposites. She’s a free-spirited, tree-hugging, Sierra Club, PETA-supporting vegan. Drives our father insane.”
“I’ll bet.” Renner touched her jaw. “You okay?”
“I worry. Harlow travels to crazy places across the globe being a do-gooder because she has this theory all people are basically good.”
“You don’t believe that?”
“Numbers have always made more sense to me than people.” She squinted at the wine bottle. “Holy crap. We drank that much?”
“Uh-huh. Which is a ringing endorsement for this vintage, if you ask me.” He set his glass aside and pulled Tierney onto his lap to restart his seduction. Letting his hand map the outside curve of her thigh to her hip. Twining his fingers in her hair, releasing that intoxicating scent of sex and flowers. Pressing her body closer to his.
Tierney wiggled until he released her. “Hang on. That angle gives me a crick in my neck. And I get that plenty from being bent over my desk