Catch Me a Cowboy (20 page)

Shirts were jerked off in such haste that thin cotton ripped and snaps popped. When Billy reached for the button of her jeans, she slid off his lap and helped him out. He started to remove his own pants, but then the pink lace of Shirlene’s panties came into view, and he froze with his waistband riding his thighs.

Propped back against the opposite door, she lifted one long leg almost to the roof and tugged on the hem of her jeans. A blue stiletto popped out, quickly followed by the other. Once the jeans were off, she tossed them to the floor and sat back, one heel resting in the seat and the other stretched out toward Billy. With that wild hair
tousled around her face and those desire-steeped eyes, she looked better than any Playboy centerfold he had ever seen. Forgetting all about his pants, he considered diving on her like a kid on a slip-and-slide.

But instead, he leaned over and placed a kiss on the skin just inside her left knee that rested against the back of the seat. It was so soft and so sweet that he nibbled his way down her thigh until he reached the piece of lace. She moaned and pushed her hips up as he dampened the material with one opened-mouth kiss after another.

“Bubba,” she breathed on a sigh. The sound vibrated through the truck as he slid down her panties and touched his mouth to her hot center.

He took his time, starting off with gentle kisses and working his way up to long, slow strokes. But when her thighs tightened against his ears, he quickly changed to steady flicks that had her head falling back against the window and little breathy moans escaping from her mouth. Shirlene Dalton wasn’t a screamer, but when she found her release, her moans were so loud that Billy started to worry about waking the residents of Grover Road.

And the last thing he needed was Jesse showing up.

So after he eased her down from her climax with a few gentle kisses, he quickly pulled up his pants and opened the door. He forgot about the light until it almost blinded him. As quickly as a man could with a raging hard-on, he climbed down and jogged around to the other side. When he pulled her into his arms, she snuggled up next to him and sighed. Why that would make him smile, Billy didn’t know. But it did—the type of smile that took up a man’s entire face.

“Feelin’ pretty content, are we?” he asked as he took the steps of the trailer.

“Mmm-hmm,” she hummed against his throat while her fingers played with the hair that curled around the back of his neck.

Inside, he switched on the kitchen light before heading for the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway and stared down at the double mattress. At that moment, he would’ve given his left nut for his king-sized bed with the nice crisp sheets. But Shirlene didn’t seem to mind. Once he set her down on the bed, she stretched out like a cat on plush carpet.

With his gaze pinned to the voluptuous goddess in pink lace and sexy-as-hell stilettos, Billy toed off first one boot and then the other. He had just started pushing down his jeans when a thought struck him, and he pulled them back up and hurried to the bathroom to search through the medicine cabinet.

Ibuprofen. Aspirin. Eye drops. Pepto. Tums. Midol—Midol? He pulled the bottle back out and stared at it before slamming it back in the cabinet and moving to the next shelf. But what he was looking for wasn’t there either. Nor was it in any of the kitchen cabinets or drawers. It took him scouring through his truck before he discovered the condom in the visor. With contraception in hand, he didn’t waste any time getting back in the trailer. He hopped his way down the hall, jerking off first one sock and then the other. When he reached the bedroom, he stopped and stared down at the woman sprawled across the bed.

In the small strip of light from the kitchen, she didn’t resemble the sexy siren he’d left only a few minutes earlier. With one arm and a high heel dangling off the bed and her plump lips slack, she looked like what she was.

Passed out cold.

T
HE LIGHT SHINING IN THE WINDOW
was blinding. Shirlene really needed to get thicker curtains. She also needed to call for her cook, Cristina, and have her bring in a couple of aspirins and a strong cup of coffee. If the dull ache in her head was any indication, Shirlene had had too many margaritas the night before. Rolling away from the light, she stuffed her head under the pillow. A pillow that wasn’t nearly as soft and downy as she’d remembered. Nor did the sheets feel as satiny, or smell like the flowery fabric softener the housekeeper used. Although the smell was rather nice. She took a deep breath and held it into her lungs. It smelled like…

Bubba?

She sat straight up, then groaned as a vise of pain tightened around her skull. She slammed her eyes shut and took a quivery breath. Then one by one she slowly opened her eyelids. But this time it wasn’t quick movement or bright sunlight that caused her intense pain. This time, it was the dingy sheets hanging over the window, the exposed insulation dangling from the ceiling, and the
mattress sagging beneath her butt. Not to mention the fact that she was wearing nothing but her lace underwear.

She jerked the sheet up over her breasts and glanced around for her clothes. But the only things on the floor were her blue high heels. An image flashed through her mind: an image of those heels resting on a set of broad shoulders while a man with a talented tongue worked his magic.

With a groan, Shirlene flopped back on the bed and pulled the sheet over her head.

Had she lost her mind? What was she thinking letting Bubba Wilkes work his magic? And what else had he worked? She couldn’t remember a thing after her explosive orgasm. Other than feeling content. Completely and totally content. But she didn’t feel content now. Now she felt like she could throw up. Although that might have more to do with the alcohol than the oral sex.

Realizing she couldn’t hide in Bubba’s bed all day, she crawled out, dragging the sheet with her. In the bathroom, she studied her face in the mirror. She looked like death warmed over. Her hair was wild, her mascara smeared, and her freckles stood out on her pale face like chocolate sprinkles on white icing. After downing three of the aspirins she found in the medicine cabinet, she washed off her makeup and finger-combed her hair. It wasn’t much of an improvement. While she was standing in front of the mirror wondering why she was worried about looking good for a redneck, the redneck walked in.

She barely had time to grab up the sheet from the floor. By the look in those deep brown eyes, it wasn’t near fast enough.

“Well, good mornin’, Strawberry Shortcake,” he
drawled as he propped a shoulder on the doorjamb and crossed his arms over a chest that was only partially covered by the thin white cotton of the sleeveless undershirt.

She didn’t know why she suddenly felt so angry. Probably because while she looked like Courtney Love after a hard night of partying, he looked like Hugh Jackman ready to belt out
Oklahoma
. And no woman wanted to be upstaged by a man the day after.

Her eyes narrowed as she gave in to her sour disposition. “You took advantage of me.”

Those dark eyebrows lifted. “Advantage? Now, I hate to split hairs, Sugar Biscuit, but at what point last night did I end up with the advantage? Was that during your orgasm or after you passed out in my bed and left me on a hard sofa… with a hard-on.”

She flapped her mouth like a bass out of water while he continued.

“Now, it’s true that I should’ve evaluated your condition a little more carefully, but most’ the women I date can’t hold their liquor quite as well as you can. Although you do look a little worse for wear this mornin’, Shirley Girl.”

Unable to come up with one thing to say to that, she shoved him out of the way and headed back toward the bedroom, where she searched around for her clothes until Bubba cleared his throat. She glanced up to see her jeans dangling from his finger.

She snatched them away from him. “And my shirt?”

He shook his head. “More shredded than the Hulk’s.” He walked over and pulled open a drawer. “But I don’t mind you borrowing one of mine.”

“Don’t mind? It’s the least you can do considering you were responsible.”

“Actually,” he turned and held out the shirt, “you were the one that ripped it off—followed by mine.” He grinned. “Obviously, patience is not one of your virtues.”

She grabbed the shirt. “You’re right, and my patience for a redneck has about run out.”

Before the words were even out of her mouth, she was in his arms. “You sure you don’t want to sample a little more Bubba lovin’, Shirley Girl? Because I don’t mind, at all. Not even if you look a little like my Aunt Clara after she got locked in the henhouse with a bunch of angry chickens.”

The warmth of his chest through the thin, cotton shirt seeped into her weary, aching body like a steam sauna. And for a moment, she actually considered sampling a little Bubba lovin’ when she wasn’t under the influence. But then he smiled that cocky smile of his, and she regained her senses and pulled away.

“Thanks for the shirt, Bubba,” she said as she strolled back to the bathroom to get dressed. But before she closed the door, she peeked her head back out. “And for the orgasm.”

When Shirlene was finished dressing, she found Bubba outside working on his truck. If you could call hanging a pair of large artificial bull balls from the back bumper work. Her heels clicked on the front steps, but he didn’t come out from beneath the huge chrome bumper to say goodbye. Figuring it was for the best, she headed toward the hedge, although as she walked past she couldn’t keep her gaze from wandering over those lean legs.

“I’ll take you back to town to get your SUV anytime you’re ready,” he said.

Consumed by the way the soft denim encased his
hard thighs, it took her a second to answer. “Thanks, but I think I can find my own ride.” She didn’t know how she was going to do that, but she figured walking was better than driving around in a vehicle with balls.

When she stepped through the hedge, she was greeted by an exuberant pig.

“Piglet.” She knelt down to scratch his head, noticing the close-clipped hairs in between his ears. Darn that little Brody and his scissors. But since hair seemed to be the only thing missing on the pig, she counted her blessings. Of course, Sherman was the least of her worries. She had just gotten back to her feet when Mia came out of the trailer with Adeline on her hip and Brody peeking around her legs.

“Where have you been?” Mia asked in a voice that sounded a lot like Colt’s when Shirlene had stayed out past curfew.

It had been years since she had to answer to anyone, so Shirlene was more than a little rusty at coming up with good excuses. She hemmed and hawed for a few minutes until she finally gave up and told the truth.

She shot a glance back at the hedge and lowered her voice. “I might’ve had a little too much to drink last night so Bubba drove me home. And since it was so late, I didn’t want to wake y’all up so I spent the night there.”

Mia’s eyes narrowed. “And the groceries?”

Shirlene swallowed hard. “Uhh… things didn’t go exactly as I expected with the bank owner… and there was a little problem with my credit at Duds ’N Such.” She held up a hand. “But don’t you worry, honey. I plan on callin’ my brother as soon as I get to a phone. And I promise we’ll figure this thing out.”

The look of disappointment and defeat in Mia’s eyes caused Shirlene’s stomach to tighten with guilt. The entire time Shirlene had been pointing guns and slamming down tequila and enjoying Bubba-lovin’, she hadn’t given one thought to the kids or how her actions would affect them. All she’d been concerned with was how badly she felt. But her troubles didn’t come close to Mia’s, and instead of helping the poor girl, she’d only added to her misery. And it didn’t look like Mia was going to give her a second chance. Without a word, she turned and walked back inside, slamming the door behind her.

Shirlene stared at the battered door, and the knot twisted. She rarely tossed her cookies—regardless of how much she had to drink—but all of a sudden she leaned away from her shoes and threw up. When she was finished, she staggered over to the shade beneath the elm tree and sat down on the back bumper of the old Chevy. Sherman followed, flopping down only a few feet away.

She wiped off her mouth with the back of her hand, trying not to notice how badly it shook. “Well,” she smiled weakly, “I guess Manny mixes his drinks a lot stronger than I remembered.”

The snuffle the pig gave her pretty much said he didn’t believe her for a second. And when she looked over at him, his little beady eyes were reflections of Mia’s disappointment. It was the same look Colt had given their mama every time she’d broken her promise to stop drinking.

A look that held the pain of crushed hope.

The tough façade that Shirlene had been struggling to hold in place since Lyle’s death—or possibly since she was born—cracked open, and tears welled up in her eyes. But this time, she couldn’t stop them from falling as
the truth smacked her square in the face. No matter how much she had tried to distance herself from the pain and poverty of Grover Road, it had somehow followed her.

As she sat there staring through her tears at the broken junk that filled the yard, she realized that it wasn’t geological as much as genetic. She could hop in her SUV and drive as far from Grover Road as she could get, and she still couldn’t get away from where she came from and who she was. Distance could not change the fact that she was her mama’s daughter—a self-absorbed woman with an addictive nature.