At the Cowboy's Mercy

BOOK: At the Cowboy's Mercy
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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER ONE

Eleven years ago

Luke Delaney shifted as he looked across the table into Kennedy Stacey's laughing brown eyes. He loved these nights when she was here at her father's ranch, home from college, so full of life. Her father, Red, liked it too, celebrated by barbecuing on the patio, filling up the cooler with beer. Too often, the three men--Luke, his brother Liam and Red--grabbed sandwiches on their own, rarely sitting down for a meal. But when Kennedy came to visit, they had a spread, bigger than the four of them could eat.

Tonight everything seemed brighter, her mood lighter than usual, and she was watching at him in a way he'd dreamed about her looking at him for years. She took a sip from her beer bottle and smiled at him around it, one of those smiles that meant she knew the effect she was having on him, and enjoyed it.
 

Would maybe even act on it.

Liam, older than him by a year, the same age as Kennedy, leaned across the table to grab the pink bakery box of cupcakes she'd brought. With a laugh, he scooped one out and dragged his tongue around the rim, licking off the thick chocolate icing, his gaze on Kennedy, but Kennedy didn't acknowledge him. That wasn't a good sign. Liam didn't take well to not being noticed, which was why he wanted to bust broncs in the rodeo. But it was Kennedy's reaction that made hope surge in Luke's chest.

Hope, and something else, which meant he couldn't cross the patio to get a beer from the cooler, not in front of Kennedy's father, the man who'd taken Luke and his brother under his wing, teaching them about horses and the rodeo. He owed the man more than that, but he was nineteen years old, and Kennedy was irresistible.
 

His pulse thundered as he made his way down the hall to her bedroom later that night. Her father had gone to bed an hour ago, on the other side of the house. Luke was no virgin, but something about Kennedy, her smile, her body....

Jesus, her body. He hoped he could manage some control, some sophistication, because right now, he feared he'd burst at the first sign of a nipple.

He rapped lightly on the bedroom door and thought he heard her say something, so he opened the door.

And froze.
 

She was saying something, all right, to his brother Liam, as she straddled him, her naked back to the door, her dark hair swinging, her hips pistoning as she rode him. Liam laughed up at her, king of the world in her bed.

Luke's heart dropped to his knees. He staggered backwards, miraculously not drawing their attention as he fumbled the door closed. All hope washed away as he dropped against the wall, wiping his hand down his face, as if that could erase the image burned in his head.

CHAPTER TWO

The familiar scents of the rodeo enveloped Kennedy Stacey as she stepped off the city bus outside the arena--animals, fried foods, the exhaust from the food trucks and horse trailers. The February day was miserable, cold and wet. The last time she'd been in San Antonio, the weather had been the same. She'd heard locals call it "rodeo weather." But that time she'd been happy. She'd been working with her father, she had a job, a home...

She folded her arms over her growling stomach. If only swallowing pride could satisfy hunger.
 

Consciously blocking out the aromas of food from the trucks, she made her way around the fair grounds, over the gravel lot, toward the parking area where the rodeo cowboys parked their RVs, trucks and trailers. Her gut tightened--she hated asking for a favor, but she didn't have a choice.

Okay, she did. She could go work in fast food, or maybe be an exotic dancer. One wouldn't pay her bills and the other...she just couldn't bring herself to do it. More, she wouldn't have a place to stay while she got on her feet.
 

But her father had sent her here, certain this was the solution for her. But he hadn't seen Luke's face at the funeral.

She turned a corner and her throat constricted. He still had the same RV from five years ago. She hoped he was inside. It was late enough that he should be, and the lights were on. She'd prefer talking to him here than in the barn, where they'd have an audience. She took a deep breath and rapped on the door of the RV.
 

Long moments passed before she heard movement inside, then the door jiggled and she had to jump back as it swung open.
 

Luke Delaney squinted out, dark blond hair mussed, shirt unbuttoned, revealing a muscular chest under a soft-looking layer of light brown hair. He was so tall he had to duck in the doorway. But when he recognized her, he straightened, his jaw clenched.
 

"What are you doing here?"

Well, she hadn't expected a warm welcome. He'd made his feelings for her clear at her father's funeral. Which was what made approaching him so hard. So why was he the only person she thought would help her? "Hello to you, too, Luke. I need a job."

His whiskey-brown eyes scanned her. "What happened to that fancy one you had? What was it? TV producer in Dallas?"

She'd had to quit the job she'd loved, the job she'd been good at, eight months ago when her father got sick. When she went to ask for it back, they'd turned her away. They'd replaced her approximately two seconds after she'd left. But he couldn't know about that humiliation. "Cutbacks."
 

"And you couldn't think of anywhere else you'd rather work." He folded his arms over his chest.
 

Her gaze followed his movement, saw the colorful bruise just below his ribs. Luke was a steer wrestler, and it looked like one of the steers had gotten the better of him. She also noticed the lovely ridges of muscle that were carved into his chest. Those were new "You know I was a good crew member. I could keep up with any man."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about what you did," he reminded her. "What makes you think I'd help you even if I could?"

Here it came, what she'd feared. He was pissed that she hadn't told her how sick her father was, was pissed she hadn't called him until it was too late, until there was only the funeral to get through. She should have, she knew, but she'd been so overwhelmed with her father's care, and her father had been adamant about not letting Luke and his brother Liam see him in his shriveled state. He hadn't told her about the foreclosure of the ranch until a couple of weeks before he died, when it was too late for anything to be done. Truth be told, it was probably too late for anything to be done by the time she got back to the ranch. The bank had been kind enough to let her stay until a month after her father passed, but now...

"I'm sorry I didn't call you. I should have."

His lips were in a thin line. "He was like a father to me, and he died without me being able to say good-bye. No apology will change that." And he closed the door in her face.

***

Luke rubbed absently at the bruise on his side as he entered the bar and grill a few blocks from the arena. He had been here last night and the food was pretty decent, kind of down-home comfort food that beat the hell out of anything he could get on the fairgrounds. His mouth already watered for some of those mashed potatoes and green beans, and was debating the baked apples to go with his pork chops when he saw her sitting at the bar with his brother Liam, their heads bent together, Liam's hand low on her back, his fingertips resting just above her ass. Heat rolled through him, carrying a feeling he hadn't known in a long time. He thought he'd grown past it. He certainly hadn't expected it where she was concerned.

A puff of breath could have knocked him over earlier when he'd opened his door to see her shivering there. She'd been the last person he thought would come looking for him. She looked like hell, too, the mist flattening her usually shiny dark hair to her head, the ill-fitting canvas jacket not warm enough for the freezing temperature. She was pale and thin, her eyes shadowed, and he couldn't look past his anger.
 

But now, seeing her at the bar, his brother's hands on her, the old protective instinct kicked in. He took a seat where he could watch, opened the menu, but kept his attention on them. She'd removed her coat and wore a fitted t-shirt like she always used to, the kind that showed off her incredible breasts and gave every cowboy in her vicinity a hard-on. Figured she'd turn to Liam again. What had him curious was why she'd come to him first.
 

He turned his attention away for only a moment when the waitress came and took his order. When he looked back at Kennedy, Liam was kissing her throat and rubbing his hand up her thigh.
 

Luke saw a tear glisten in the corner of her eye before it dripped down her cheek.
 

Before he could think, he was on his feet and striding toward them. He closed his hand around Kennedy's wrist and dragged her stumbling off the barstool. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, straightening herself by placing a hand right on his bruise. He sucked in a breath before he pulled her beside him and faced his brother, who would not like his prize being stolen.
 

"What the hell, Luke?" Liam drawled, blinking.

Luke looked down at him from his height of six-five. "She was waiting for me."

Liam narrowed his eyes. "She says otherwise."

He glanced at Kennedy. "What we had was a misunderstanding. If you bought her dinner, I'll pay you back."

"She's going to stay with me. Plenty of room in my RV, compared to yours."

"And we know what you'd want in payment."
 

"Come on, now." Liam gave the slow smile that got him laid regularly. "This is Kennedy. I wouldn't ask anything like that of her."

Luke turned to Kennedy. "How many drinks did he buy for you?"

"I had a beer, and ordered a sandwich."

"Right." He pulled out his wallet and drew out a ten dollar bill. He handed it to his brother. "We're even then. Get your coat and your bag, Kennedy."

She hesitated, then reached for the canvas coat draped over the barstool, then looped the duffel over her shoulder.
 

"You sure, Kennedy? I'm a lot more fun than my baby brother here. You remember that, don't you?"

She tightened her grip on the strap of her duffel. "I appreciate the offer, but I have an arrangement with Luke."

Liam looked from one to the other, shrugged and turned back to his beer.

Luke caught the waitress who'd taken his order. "Pack that up to go, with her sandwich, will you? We'll be by the door."

The young woman glanced from Luke to Kennedy and frowned, then nodded and headed to the kitchen.
 

Kennedy didn't say anything as they stood near the register waiting for their order. She'd put her coat on again, zipped it and huddled inside it. When the order came out, he waited, just for a moment, to see if she'd offer to pay, but she didn't. He sighed, paid the check, grabbed the bag, and walked out the door. She hurried after him, head down. Jesus, he'd never seen her so damned cowed. If he hadn't looked into her eyes, he wouldn't know her.

"Where you staying?" he asked when he opened the passenger door for her.
 

"I haven't found a place."

Right. He motioned her into the truck and placed the bag on her lap. She wrapped her arms around it, as if grateful for the warmth, for the shield. He sighed, closed the door and crossed around the front of the truck.
 

He didn't look at her as he turned on the truck and adjusted the heater so it blew in her direction. Even in the chilling temperatures, the truck hadn't cooled down too much.
 

"So you were going to sleep with Liam so you wouldn't have to get yourself a room?" he demanded finally. "Why didn't I get that offer?"

She jabbed her chin in his direction. "You didn't give me a chance."

He almost steered off the damned road. If she'd been willing to return to Liam's bed, why had she come to him first, especially knowing how he felt about her?

He pulled up beside his RV, shut off the truck and motioned for her to follow him. Hesitantly she stepped into the motor home, carrying the bag with their dinner, leaving her duffel in the car. As she set the food on the table, he closed the door behind her. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water, though damn, he'd wanted a beer at the restaurant. She sat on the upholstered cushion and opened the bag, placing his two styrofoam containers in front of his place before opening her own with shaking hands. He sat across from her, legs angled toward the narrow aisle and watched. She dug into her meal like she hadn't eaten in days, and he'd barely taken two bites of his green beans before she reached for the second half of her sandwich.

BOOK: At the Cowboy's Mercy
6.75Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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