Pressure Rising (Rhinestone Cowgirls Book 2) (4 page)

At this rate, she could practically feel the grey hairs popping out at her roots. She realized he’d put her in his bedroom. His school trophies lined three shelves on the wall. Show off! Who cared if he played every sport in school? Undoubtedly, he’d given her this room out of spite. No way would she give him the satisfaction of complaining and making him think she couldn’t handle being in here.

She laid back on the soft blanket and sighed. The scent of leather and spice seemed to wrap around her, reminding her of kisses behind a barn.

Popping back up to a sitting position, she groaned. This was DJ’s bed. He probably hadn’t even changed the sheets.

Knowing enough about men to fill a shot glass, which definitely wasn’t much, one thing she was sure about was that men masturbated. And from what she heard from her friends, married and single, men do it frequently. There was a chance his ‘stuff’ remained in the sheets. Heat blossomed between her legs and her panties moistened. She had a strong urge to touch herself, but refused—she couldn’t do
that
in DJ’s bed.

Groaning, she jumped up and stared at the full sized bed covered with a multi-colored quilt. She should be ashamed at the path of her thoughts. How in the hell could she be turned on? An image of DJ lying in the middle of the blanket, naked, exposed rippling muscle, pumping his—

She squealed.

Lord, help me.

Sweat beaded between her breasts and her nether lips throbbed. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so discombobulated. She needed to clear her mind, do anything to get herself back on track, and dare not think of what DJ had told her downstairs…they could ‘give it a try again’ to see if there was still a connection. He was a dangerous man, but only if she responded to his mischief. He played her once, but never again.

She cringed thinking of how far things could have gone that night when they were teens—an innocent kiss could have turned into a huge mistake. If Jewels hadn’t shown up when she did, no doubt Pearl would have found out if DJ had other skills besides kissing.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed those thoughts aside. She busied herself searching the room and the contents on the dresser—a handful of loose change, an old pocketknife, a belt buckle, and a chewed piece of gum. Against one wall stood a bookshelf full of books. This caught her off guard. DJ read…books? She expected she would find a stack of nude girly magazines next to the toilet, but actual books seemed out of place here among his belongings.

Her appreciation elevated—slightly.

One book stuck out from the others and she pulled it off the shelf. Opening the cover to the sci-fi novel, she moved her fingers across the worn and bent pages, fanning them. DJ’s cologne lingered on the paper. Did he read at night? Was this his favorite book?

Pushing the book back into its slot, she blew off all further images of DJ reading. She didn’t care what he read or when he read.

After leaving the room, she stopped in the bathroom, thankful to see that it didn’t look like a men’s public restroom. It was clean and had a nice color of yellow paint on the walls.  Fresh towels hung on the bar. Toiletries were lined up neatly on the sink and there were no magazines to be found. She squirted a few drops of the lemon scented soap into her palm and it made her hands feel soft. Did the soap soften DJ’s working hands?

A moan escaped her tight lips.

She stared at herself in the mirror and wrinkled her nose. The havoc on her nerves showed in her pale skin and her hair was a mess from where she’d pushed her hands through it so many times. Using the brush she found in a drawer, she combed her hair until it hung in soft waves. It didn’t look bad. She mentally prepared herself to get through the rest of the day.

Downstairs, DJ was still sitting on the couch, surfing the channels on the TV. Although he seemed pretty comfortable, she could tell by the hard set of his jaw and the way he had his chin cocked on his palm that he wasn’t enjoying his afternoon. He didn’t seem like the type of person to sit around. The Walters brothers were raised as hard workers and they were always on the land. DJ’s tanned complexion and toned muscles were proof just how hard he worked.

Shaking her head and dislodging any remaining thoughts of his muscles, she stepped into the room. “We should change your bandage before you eat. The doc said we’d need to check it for any abnormal bleeding.” There was a tremble to her voice

His head came up. “Maybe it’s best we take that out of your nursing duties.”

So DJ Walters did have a shy bone in his body. “Then who will do it?”

He shrugged and his shirt tightened around his shoulders and chest. Several buttons were undone, exposing a small patch of crisp, dark hair, the same as on his arms—not that she’d paid much attention. She dragged her misbehaving gaze right back to his eyes, still not the safest location. He had the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen. She couldn’t quite remember them being that amazing.

“I’m sure I can manage.”

“Really? Your dad and brothers aren’t here. So who will help you? A ranch hand?”

He scratched his chin. “I’ll call a friend, she’s a nurse. After all, you working on my backside is way too close to the jewels. Even if we called a truce you might decide a shot in the ass isn’t enough to teach me a lesson for whatever crime I committed behind that barn.” His smile sprinkled sweet poison through her blood. “It could be you’re mad because I didn’t put out the fire that night.”

“Get over yourself.”

“Never understood what that means. How do I get over myself? As opposed to being under myself?” A thick brow came up.

“You do like to ruffle my feathers. And you wonder why I don’t like you.”

“Exactly why I don’t feel safe with you working below my buckle. You did shoot me.”

Several things flashed through her mind. One, he didn’t trust her, which she could understand to a certain extent. Two, did he still believe she’d shot him on purpose? Why did that bother her? “I didn’t mean to shoot you. I’ve never shot anyone or anything, ever. Anyway, I won’t plead with you to let me take care of your bandage because I believe we’ll both be more comfortable if I don’t have to.” She felt a rush of relief. He had a nice rump, no doubt. Of course she’d checked it out a time or two, especially while he was wearing the flowered hospital gown. But touching it—that is, imagining touching it—did weird things in the pit of her stomach. “And is it possible we don’t talk about the past? We kissed once upon a blue moon. No big deal.” That was one subject she didn’t want to rehash.

“Listen, darlin’, it might be best just to talk about it, get it off your chest.” His eyes glazed in mischief.

“Get what off my chest?” She laid her hands on her hips.

“That you liked the kiss so much that you want another.” He raked his fingers down his cheek. “Those lips left a huge impression.” His gaze settled on her mouth.

Every nerve ending sparked alive. Why did she let him get to her?

She spotted the medicine bottle on the table. Picking it up and reading the label, she shook her head. “These are strong meds. How many have you taken?”

“Two.”

She bit back laughter. “For such a brawny man, you sure can’t handle your medication. You’re talking out of your head.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying. I just don’t feel any pain while I’m saying it.” He chuckled.

“What’s your nurse friend’s number and I’ll give her a call myself.” Grabbing his phone, she pushed the button for contacts.

“Diana. And you don’t need to do that.” He reached for the cell, taking it from Pearl. “I can manage.”

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Do you think I’m making her up?” One thick brow curved.

Choosing not to answer was for the best. “I’ll go make you something to eat.”

In the kitchen, she poured a glass of water and drank it down in two gulps. It did little to relax her nerves. Why did she let DJ annoy her? He was only teasing her—wanting a rise—and he was getting one. She had to put up a thick wall around her emotions.

They’d shared a kiss years ago. So what. Many people kissed and it meant zilch. She just had to keep reminding herself that it was nothing.

Gaining her equilibrium, she rinsed her glass and placed it on the counter.

Finally back on track, she rummaged through the kitchen cabinets hoping to find something to prepare, but she came up empty. Obvious by the sparse selection, only men lived in the household. She couldn’t find one thing that didn’t contain full-fat and a load of stuff she couldn’t even pronounce.

Opening the refrigerator door, she peered into fat city. Bacon, bacon, and more bacon. She didn’t have anything against bacon, but she believed when the meat outweighed the vegetables, there was a huge problem. There were no veggies to speak of—except she did find something at the bottom of one drawer that could have been a carrot at one time.

Grabbing the trash can, she started going through the refrigerated containers, reading expiration dates and tossing most of the items.

Pearl was on hands and knees scrubbing the bottom of the fridge when she heard a knock on the door. She closed the refrigerator and left the kitchen, blowing her hair off her cheek. Through the screen, she could see bleach blonde hair and long legs. “Diana?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Diana stepped in and Pearl blinked. The woman was very tall and slender except for her large breasts that were barely contained in the tight shirt. The jean skirt came up high on her thighs leaving little to the imagination. Her brown cowboy boots clicked against the hardwood floor.

So this was DJ’s friend. Some friend.

“Hi there.” Diana stuck out a hand and a hoop ring dangled from her long pinky nail. On the inside of one wrist she had a tattoo of a black widow spider. Interesting. When Diana smiled her red lips spotlighted a toothpaste-ad row of white teeth. Her long hair was smooth straight and Pearl slid her fingers through her own hair that she knew must be a mess after cleaning. She hoped the little bit of mascara and tinted lip-gloss she put on that morning remained, but highly doubted it.

Pearl shook Diana’s hand and smiled. This was a lot different than the perky, petite cheerleaders he dated in high school. “I’m Pearl…DJ’s—uhh—”

“Thanks for coming, Diana.” DJ’s voice made Pearl swivel. He was standing directly behind her. “She’s helping while I’m incapacitated.” He reached out and plucked something from Pearl’s hair, holding it up. “And cleaning corn out of the fridge.”

She choked back a growl. “Yeah, I’m just here helping.”

“Nice to see you, DJ.” Diana swiped her hand down her skirt and swept past Pearl, planting her hands on DJ’s shoulders. Diana leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, leaving a crimson ring. “Glad you called.”

There had never been a moment when Pearl felt like a third wheel, until now. “I-I need to run to the grocery. Will you be okay—I mean, will your friend be here with you…I can give you some time. I’m just planning to grab some things, but I should be a while.” Had she chewed a gob of peanut butter? She couldn’t get her mouth to work right. If it wasn’t embarrassing enough to have DJ find food in her hair, her speaking skills definitely scored humiliation points.

She grabbed her purse from the table, almost knocking over a framed picture. With the dexterity of a two year old, she managed to put the picture back in its place. DJ was grinning. Not giving him the satisfaction of acknowledging him, she turned and walked away.

“Take your time,” DJ called after her as she marched off the porch toward her car.

She wasn’t ready for this—not even by a long shot.

Chapter Three

DJ watched through the screen as Pearl sauntered toward her truck. He liked the way her tight jeans fit. She had a nice sway to her hips and her long hair swung from side to side. She climbed in on the driver’s side and although there was reflection on the windshield he could have sworn he caught her looking at him. The engine came alive and the dust trail from the tires faded down the lane.

“I don’t remember you looking at me like that.” Diana’s voice cut through his attention, bringing him back to reality.

“What do you mean?”

Diana sighed. “I’d say that woman has a shoe in if you ask me.”

“There’s nothing between Pearl and me—unless you want to count animosity and then there’s plenty.”

Diana chuckled. “I remember hearing one time that the best way to tell if two people have a connection is if they can’t stand each other. Nothing better than conflict to sweeten the bed.” She winked.

“Like I said, no, not like that,” DJ grumbled and went back into the living room.

“If that’s the case, then why did you call me out here to make her jealous?” Her thin brow lifted as her full hip slanted. “Hmm, cowboy?”

He sat and winced when the pain shot through his bottom. “You’re reading into things.”

“Need a pain pill? You look miserable.” She sat beside him and her skirt lifted high on her leg. He knew what they’d once shared was completely over because he didn’t feel a bit of stirring below the belt.

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m not taking any more of those things. They make me feel loopy and I get all talkative.”