Sarah's Surrender (3 page)

What he needed was another woman to take his mind off her silky hair and awesome, gut-clenching, cock-swelling lips.

He couldn't have her but he could damn sure have another woman's mouth wrapped around his cock. Damn, fucking straight. That's all he needed.

Tonight. He would find one tonight.

Unfortunately, the thought didn't soothe him at all.

****

Sarah ended the call and jotted down a few quick notes in her Hello Kitty notebook. Phillip Johnson Garrett. That was the third time she'd been given that name. Evidently, he was the man with not only the money, but a strong streak of philanthropy as well.

Why in the world did she care so much? Why was the need to keep the tiny school district in the small town of Top Hill open and thriving such a major concern to her? Granted, she was a teacher and she had a deep, ingrained need to supply all children with the best education possible.

But it was more than that.

She loved the town and the two-hundred acres she'd inherited from her grandparents with all her heart. She'd never gotten to live here full-time; she'd grown up in Dallas with her parents and stayed there even after they divorced and her mother moved to Australia with a new man and her father drank himself to a premature death because of it.

But she'd spent every summer of her life here. She'd explored every inch of the pastures and ridden her bike up and down the terraces more times than she could remember. She'd picked wildflowers and churned butter with her grandmother, all the while listening to the stories her grandmother told her, thereby unknowingly bonding with a small plot of land and coming to think of it as her true home.

She'd been a shy teenager growing up, but sheer grit and determination had made her drive her grandparents' old car into town by herself to try to make friends. And she had.

She'd gone to the small town swimming pool by herself, and the few kids there were curious enough about her to start the conversations. Some of the kids had felt threatened by her, simply because she was from a large city, but she'd met one girl in particular who had turned into a great friend. Jaime was a year older than Sarah, and that must have given the other girl enough of a sense of superiority that allowed her to open up to Sarah.

The two girls had spent their summers together, roaming the small town, driving up and down the main drag, and flirting with boys every chance they received. They stayed in touch with each other during the year, and recently, free cell phone minutes and social media had made the miles between them virtually disappear.

Sarah didn't have any siblings or first cousins on either side, and now her father and grandparents were all gone. Her mother loved her and they had a close relationship, but Sarah was old enough and experienced enough to know that what the older woman had found in Australia with her new husband was priceless and she truly didn't begrudge her for moving away.

So now Sarah had a small farm that was home to her and if there was any possible way she could make enough money to live here full time she would do it. But she couldn't think of a way, so every school year she returned to Dallas and her teaching position that paid for her condo and supplied her with enough funds for the taxes and utilities on the farm.

There simply weren't enough job opportunities in the community to allow her to live here full time.

And that was the gist of the problem.

No job opportunities. Not enough families, not enough kids for the school to stay open. If new jobs weren't created, the few families left in town who didn't own farming land would end up moving away and the school would be even more at risk.

Without the school, the town would wither and die.

And Sarah was determined to prevent that.

She'd researched the problem, because it was happening to small towns all over Texas. She knew the answer to the problem lay with the aging population and especially with the wave of baby boomers coming up in age.

The way she saw it, if the town could come up with the funding for not only a nursing home, but assisted living and possibly senior housing for those still active, then that would create jobs, as well as bring in older people to live in the facilities offered.

It would be a win-win for the town, the school, and the aging population. It wasn't a new idea, and the county had at one time, held a bond election for just that purpose. But it had failed because it meant a rise in taxes that the people could little afford.

So now Sarah struggled with how to make it happen. And that was part of the problem.

When she mentioned it to people, they were interested and knew it was a good idea, but were mostly busy with their own lives and barely squeaking out a living in the harsh economy.

She began scribbling out ideas as they came to her and was chewing on the end of her pen, deep in thought, when her phone rang. She glanced down and happiness pierced her when she saw Jaime's name. There was no question about it, the other woman was like the sister she'd never had.

Sarah activated the call. "Hey."

"Finally! You're home!" Jaime's voice made it sound like they hadn't seen each other in six years instead of the six months it had been since they'd visited at Christmas.

"Yep," Sarah agreed, much pleased herself.

They had spoken briefly, but hadn't seen each other in the five days since Sarah had arrived. Jaime worked at the office of the county commissioner, and was only now getting some free time in the form of the weekend arriving.

"You up to party tonight?" Jamie asked her now.

"Party?" Sarah sounded skeptical. There wasn't much to do around here. "You mean like you and me and a bottle of wine and something good on Netflix?"

Jaime snickered. "No, that's not what I mean. I mean like you and me and every cowboy in a hundred mile radius at the Cut-n-Shoot."

"Cut-n-Shoot?" Sarah's asked with doubt in her voice.

"It opened up about four months ago on the highway outside of Egret Lake. It's a total blast. I can't believe we finally have somewhere to go dancing. You'll love it."

"I'm not sure Randall would want me to go." Sarah said with an edge of doubt in her voice.

"Oh, bullshit, Sarah. Don't give me that crap." Jaime's voice held bristling indignation. "That man isn't a bit jealous. I don't think he'd care if you walked up and kissed another man full on the lips. He probably wouldn't even notice."

"That's not very nice, Jaime," Sarah admonished softly.

"Seriously. Why'd you tell him you'd marry him?" Jaime's tone was filled with frustration.

Sarah paused. "We get along. He's kind and respectful."

"Really? Kind and respectful? What about something like,
he creams my twinkie and all I have to do is look at him to start salivating?
That's what floats the boat in a relationship and I'd think you'd know it by now."

"Jaime--"

"Don't start with me. I don't want to discuss it. You already married one loser--"

Sarah cut in with accusation.
"So did you
--"

"Yeah, but I learned something from it and all you're doing is hiding behind the most boring man imaginable. Jesus Christ, Sarah, is he even heterosexual?"

"Of course he is." Sarah couldn't control the miff in her tone.

"How's the sex?" Jaime fired back.

Sarah was silent as she digested that question.

Jaime continued with an edge to her voice, "Don't for one minute tell me you haven't had sex with him!
Sarah
. Shit. Have you had sex with him?"

"No," Sarah admitted.

"Why?"

"He's a gentleman."

"He's gay." Jaime argued in a flat, succinct tone.

"No, he's not."

"Is he planning on coming here anytime soon?"

"Not that I know of," Sarah answered.

"Have you even talked to him since you got back?"

"Yeah, I called him to let him know I got here safely."

"Uh-huh. That's it?"

"He texts me every day."

"Right. Whatever. I'll pick you up at eight. Be ready. And I'm warning you now, if you come outside in boring teacher clothes, I'm taking you back to my place and dressing you myself. So be ready."

"What are you wearing?" Sarah never knew what to expect from Jaime's choice of clothing.

"My black Miss Me shorts and red Ropers. White camisole top."

"I'm not wearing boots. I'll wear shorts, but West Texas or not, I'm not wearing boots." Sarah had been born and raised in Texas and she loved her two-hundred acres, but a cowgirl, she was not.

"Did you bring any platform sandals with you?" Jaime asked.

"Yes," Sarah answered.

"With your legs? That'll work."

****

John leaned against the wall in a darkened corner of the rowdy dancehall and studied the cluster-fuck of bodies turning on the dance floor. He watched with an arrow of both amusement and envy as his friend and neighbor, Raul Vega, danced his petite, dark-haired wife around the sawdust-sprinkled floor. It wasn't that John wanted Elaina in any way, or that he begrudged Raul what he had found with her.

But he couldn't stop the thought that if he himself had made a better choice of wife, maybe things would be different now. Maybe he wouldn't be so cynical about life and women in particular. Maybe if Monica hadn't slept with his best friend and business partner, attempted to take everything he had after he'd filed for divorce, maybe he could continue to see the good in life. And the fact that she'd done it with his best goddamn friend. He knew the experience had changed him irrevocably; he was harshly critical and judgmental. He'd built up a figurative fence around himself and a literal fence around his ranch. He liked complete isolation. It was easier that way. He doubted that would ever change.

He continued to watch the other couple. Raul didn't seem to be much of a dancer, but you couldn't tell it from the way Elaina's eyes looked up into his face while she broke out in laughter as he spun her away from him and then tugged her back close again.

The song ended and he watched as the newly wedded couple began to exit the dance floor. Elaina walked in front, and Raul walked behind her with his hands on her shoulders in a territorial stance that not a single man in the building could fail to recognize. Yeah, there was no question, his neighbor had definitely
staked his claim
on that girl. Wedded, bedded, the ring and the whole nine yards.

John watched in absolute amazement as a drunken cowboy made the mistake of looking at Elaina and was no doubt so mesmerized by her face that he didn't see the man behind her. The inebriated man stopped directly in her path and made a slow, drunken move to put his hand on her arm. John almost choked on his beer because the look on Raul's face was so amusing. It probably wasn't funny to Raul, but for John, watching from the sidelines, the moment held a different quality. Like a lightning strike, Raul's hand snapped out and grabbed the man's arm and twisted it behind his back.

John was too far away to hear what was said, but Raul was in the guy's face in a split second. John was just about to make his move to try to keep his neighbor from being thrown out of the bar, when Elaina reached out a gentle hand to her husband and with a shake of her head, she turned and walked away, probably anticipating full well that Raul would have no choice but to follow her. And follow her, he did.

It never failed; every six weeks or so, Elaina would talk Raul into taking her dancing, and every time it was a pure miracle that Raul didn't get thrown out for fighting. John watched as his neighbors left the dance floor and blended into the crowd.

He took a sip of his beer as his gaze continued to move around the bar as he cataloged one woman after the next. Cataloged and dismissed them, one at a time. Usually he wasn't quite so picky, just wanting a quick lay. But tonight, for reasons he didn't care to analyze, not one single woman looked to be fuck-worthy.

As a whole slew of women and a few brave men congregated to begin a line dance, he nursed his beer and tried to find someone who would get his unusually quiet libido to come to attention.

But it wasn't happening.

As the women began moving in a dance of blended bodies that seemed almost rehearsed, his eyes ran over them. There were tall women, short women, big tits, little tits, and everything in between. He couldn't get his brain to focus on any one woman, but he watched in amazement as he always did as they moved in such synchronized actions that it looked to be almost choreographed.

The dance floor was crowded because the song was popular, and he saw only bits and pieces of different women before they turned in unison and began gliding in the opposite direction. The faces that were in the middle of the group, he couldn't see at all.

He had already dismissed every woman on the outside parameter of the dance floor and was trying his best to scrutinize the hoard of women in the middle when he focused on one girl in particular. He almost grimaced because she sucked so badly at what she was doing.

He watched her awkward movements among a sea of women who had done this many times before, and he was momentarily floored that he felt a touch of sympathy for her.

He wasn't a sympathetic man in general and, in fact, many of the finer emotions were lost on him completely.

But his eyes kept landing on her again and again in pained compassion. He finally gave up trying to look away from her all together and studied her exclusively. As he continued to watch her, he slowly began to notice other things about her other than her uncoordinated dance moves.

What he could see of her body was amazing.

He still couldn't see her face, but suddenly, he was struck by how awesome her legs were. She wore a pair of cream-colored shorts with an edging of lace around the hem that accentuated her thighs in a way that had his guts tightening in reaction. In comparison to many of the other women, her shorts were modest, covering a few more inches of her thighs than that of the woman around her who mostly wore tiny skirts or the shortest shorts imaginable. But most of the other women wore boots, and she didn't, so the overall effect was much more visible leg.