Blame it on Texas (10 page)

Just more bloody water under the bridge.

He stumbled through the house, stopped in the bathroom to splash water on his face and tried to get a handle on the day.

He made it to the kitchen. There was no note from his wife, and the coffee was cold in the pot. She must have left a long time ago. Then he remembered. It was Friday. She was baking cakes for Craig and Delilah. Tonight was the rehearsal dinner.

Ritt poured himself a cup and stuck it in the microwave. As it nuked, he peeked outside. Both his truck and Shelby’s rental were missing from the driveway. At least he’d had enough sense to get a cab home.

That must have cost a pretty penny. The Longbranch was halfway to Amarillo. But it was amazing where Ben Franklin could get a man when he had the notion. He’d been safe last night and that was good, but now he’d have to get a ride back to the honky tonk to reclaim his old Ford. With a shake of his head, he picked up the phone and called Craig.

“I can’t believe you’re working today.” Ritt shot Craig a pointed look.

“Well, not everyone can call in sick on a whim.”

“Jealous much?”

Craig returned his look. “No.”

Funny thing was, Ritt knew he meant it. Craig was on top of the world. He had a thriving law practice, and he was about to marry the girl who was meant for him and take her on a honeymoon to paradise.

The thought of his own honeymoon flitted through his mind. If one could call a weekend in San Antonio a honeymoon. Maybe if he’d taken Shelby someplace special. Like he could have afforded that back then. He’d been nineteen, dependent on his parents for damned near everything in his life. Maybe if they’d used that five thousand dollars to make Shelby stay instead of entice her mother to leave…

He shoved the thought aside. He’d forgiven his parents a long time ago, and he truly couldn’t find fault with Stormy Patterson for taking their money to start over. None of it, not even one iota, was Shelby’s fault.

“You okay, buddy?”

Ritt nodded. “Right as rain.”

Craig turned into the parking lot at the Longbranch, pulling his Mercedes alongside the beat-up Ford. “You know, people lie to me for a living.”

“Yep,” Ritt said, his hand on the door.

“When you want to talk about it, you know where I am.”

Ritt opened the door, stepping out into the graveled lot.

“Maybe if you told her the truth,” Craig said, leaning over to look at Ritt.

“Then she’d stay for all the wrong reasons.”

“I meant the truth about how you feel about her.”

Ritt shook his head. “See ya tonight.” He slammed the car door and crunched his way to his truck.

Shelby blew her hair out of her face and promised herself that she would give Kathryn a raise when she returned to LA. Making a wedding cake without her faithful assistant’s help showed Shelby how much Kat really did.

It had taken the better part of the day, but she had completed the three triple-layer cakes and the multitude of chocolate cupcakes in lieu of the traditional groom’s cake. Tomorrow she would ice the cupcakes, add the fresh flowers and use the matching ribbon to tie the wedding cakes together. All in all, they would be beautiful in their simplicity.

She wiped down the counters one last time, then grabbed her purse and shut the door to the fellowship hall.

All evening long she’d heard the commotion from the rehearsal going on in the sanctuary, and she wished to be a part of it. But being in the kitchen while people that she had known since she was in high school were laughing and having a great time, just proved to her the distance between them. She didn’t belong here. She was a Cali girl now. With any luck, she’d have her signed papers by tomorrow afternoon and would be on her way back home.

The thought should have made her happy, but a sigh escaped her as she unlocked the rental car and started back to Ritt’s house.

He’d probably still be out with the wedding party, eating and whooping it up for the last time.

She hadn’t talked to him all day, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t crossed her mind. Crossed was a bad term. She baked cakes for a living. She could do it in her sleep. Even with three cakes on her to-do list, memories of Ritt had sauntered in and hijacked her thoughts for the day. Not long-ago memories, but new ones. More potent than the ones from years before.

Last night, almost making love with him. She had to keep reminding herself that he’d been drunk. But that didn’t erase the scent of him from her mind. He should have smelled like a brewery, but he hadn’t. He’d smelled like…Ritt, and that alone was enough to make her forget all the things she had promised herself.

And then he said the worst possible thing to her and the memories came crashing back. Not the good ones, but the ones that seared her straight through.

Ritt’s truck was in the driveway when she pulled in. She didn’t worry about parking behind him; she’d be up and out the door long before he even stirred in the morning.

She let herself into the house, surprised to see the flicker of the television as she set her purse on the kitchen table.

“Home already?”

Ritt nodded. “Since it’s a day wedding, Delilah wanted everyone to get a good night’s sleep. Dark circles and pictures.” He shrugged. “You know Delilah.”

Shelby nodded, the air suddenly thick.

“I’m sorry about last night.” His words were soft, but carried the weight of the world.

A small laugh escaped her. But it was sad really how much the sound resembled a sob. Shelby pressed a hand to her mouth and gathered her composure. Now was the time to start. Now was the time to harden her heart to all things Ritt. “Sorry that you kissed me or sorry that you said…” She waved a hand around, unable to repeat his words from the night before.

“Sorry that I hurt you.”

She wanted to scoff, tell him in a flippant tone that he didn’t hold such a power over her that mere words could wound. But they’d both know it was a lie.

Ritt patted the couch next to him. “Quit hovering and come sit down. You look dead on your feet.”

Shelby hesitated, unsure whether to forge a ceasefire or protect her heart. But his expression was tired, his mouth pulled down at the corners. Could it be that he truly was sorry for the hurtful words that put a stop to what could have been the second-biggest mistake of her life?

She took a couple of hesitant steps then sank down into the armchair across from him. It was the first time she’d been off her feet since the early morning. She’d eaten lunch standing up while a cake baked. They needed constant attention since she was working with a regular oven, and she didn’t have time to make any mistakes. Her knees popped, and her stomach growled. She’d skipped dinner altogether.

Ritt rose from the couch and made his way to the kitchen, coming back in a few minutes with a plate full of chicken and pasta and a can of Coke. “I can’t have the neighbors thinking I’m starving you.”

Shelby smiled with gratitude and accepted the plate. Mentally she pushed away the thoughts of how long this fragile truce could last between them. “Where’d you get this?”

“Leftovers from the rehearsal dinner.”

“Yummy.” She polished off the food in no time, sitting with Ritt and watching some late-night show on television. She had a feeling he’d turned off the game for her. But she couldn’t dwell on that. Him catering to her tastes seemed too intimate by far.

Suddenly the room seemed smaller and warmer. She snatched up her plate and took it to the kitchen, needing space from him once again. Perhaps they couldn’t have this, a civil separation, a relationship squashed in the middle between red-hot lovers at each other’s throats.

Needing something to do to keep her away from him, she washed the plate. And then the rest of the dishes in the sink.

“You don’t have to do that, you know. The cleaning lady comes tomorrow.”

Shelby jumped at the sound of his voice. She whirled around to find him right behind her. Close. Too close.

“You have a cleaning lady?” She had to say something to break the current that sparked between them. Was she the only one who felt this pull whenever they were together? The draw of him, the urge to lean in and taste the edge of his jaw, the curve of those masculine lips. With no thought to the consequences, the pain of tomorrow, the mistakes of the past.

He shrugged. “She comes a couple of times a week.”

“Are you kidding me?” Her voice rose, her desire for him quickly turning to anger. “You work at the bait shop. Part-time. How can you afford a cleaning lady?”

His eyes narrowed until she couldn’t read them. “What is it about the situation that bothers you, Shel?”

What indeed? And then she knew. “I have worked so hard in my life to find happiness. I struggle every day. You just float along, satisfied with whatever life hands you. It’s not fair, damn it.”

He stared at her for a full three seconds then took a half a step closer, forcing her up against the cabinet. “You think I like how my life turned out?”

“Y-yes.” Unable to find room for her hands between them, she braced them against his chest. A big mistake she realized as her fingers encountered his heat.

“My life’s all right.” His eyes were hooded. “But there’s one thing missing.”

“What?” she whispered, her heart thumping painfully against her ribs.

“This.” His mouth crashed down on hers, and Shelby’s world tilted on its axis.

Her hands traveled up his torso and linked behind his neck, silently begging not to end the passionate onslaught. His arms snaked around her, hauling her against him and telling her without words that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Then his lips left hers. She was about to protest when he angled his head the other way and began to kiss her again.

She should stop him, but all of her senses were so tuned into him that she couldn’t raise even a single protest.

His hands slipped under the edge of her T-shirt, easing around to cup her hips in his palms. He used his hold on her to show her how much he wanted her, how far gone he was himself, before he lifted her and sat her on the kitchen counter.

He snuggled into the vee between her knees, kissing her still. His mouth reluctantly left hers as he broke contact to pull her shirt over her head.

Shelby sucked in a gulp of air. Fortified herself for the next dip of his head. The kiss was intoxicating, heady and powerful.

She followed his lead and yanked his shirt over his head, loving the feel of those rock-hard muscles beneath her fingers. Once their kiss had been broken, he stared into her eyes, his gaze giving away nothing but the passion that burned between them.

Shelby basked in the sensation of his hands on her, as rough and callused as they had been so long ago.

He slid his arms around her again, his nimble fingers deftly unhooking the straps of her bra. Ritt took a step back, breaking their kiss. Her breasts spilled out of the beige lace. Eyes closed, she heard his sigh a second before she felt his mouth on her.

Ecstasy.

She wrapped her legs around his middle, securing him to her. Ritt grunted his approval, slipping his hands underneath her fanny and lifting her off the cabinet.

Nothing else concerned her as he carried her through the house and into the bedroom.

He laid her crossways on the bed, unbuttoning her jeans, and stepping back to pull the denim from her legs. She watched him from underneath her lashes, her eyes almost closed in anticipation.

He didn’t break their only contact as he stripped off his own jeans and briefs, standing before her proud, naked and aroused.

He seemed to be taking his time as he moved in for another kiss. This one just as electric. Even though he touched her nowhere but lips to lips, it was no less powerful. She wanted to scream for him to hurry, beg him to slow down, swear he’d never let her leave.

She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her. And then he was there, on top of her, warm, solid, hard. Hands re-exploring valleys and curves that they’d conquered long ago.

Shelby sighed as he smoothed one hand over her hip and lower still. She bit back his name, afraid that the sound of her voice would somehow break the spell that surrounded them.

His kiss was magic, transporting her to another world. His lips trailed down the valley between her breasts, his tongue tracing a pattern of nothings all across her stomach and lower still.

She could only thread her fingers through his hair and hold onto him as he carried her to heights she had only dreamed about since she’d left Texas.

He nipped his way back to her parted lips, kissed her again, then shifted their weight. She lay sprawled across his chest, loving the feel of him under her as much as the feeling of being under him. Maybe it was being close to him that made it so good. Close and naked.

Her fingers had been missing him all these years, but the muscles under her palms belonged to a man that she had only glimpsed. Every little ripple more than it had been. Every ridge more than before.

She slid her hand between his thighs and traced the length of him. He flinched in response, a quick chuckle escaping him. She remembered and explored. All the familiar that was her husband. All the new that was the man he had become.