TopGuns (11 page)

Even though he grew up piss poor, his relationship with the
kinfolk was about the same as hers—respectful when called for, ignored when
possible and forgotten for the most part.

“You mind if I join you?”

The older man leaned on his cane with a small smile on his
face. Tyler looked around at the empty twenty or so pews before him and
shrugged. “Go right ahead.”

Truth told he didn’t want company. He didn’t want much of
anything. He’d gone numb the night he’d gotten the call. He functioned simply
out of duty and habit. He pulled out the ring box he’d kept a secret a few too
many days. If only he’d manned up sooner she would’ve known he loved her before
she died.

He’d finally gotten the guts up to accept he loved her the
night of the party but a part of him had accepted it long before that—long enough
for him to have gotten a ring. Why the fuck hadn’t he said those few simple
words so she would’ve known how he felt?

I love you.
The words hung there, choking the breath
from his lungs, draining the blood from his heart. Nothing he did or said could
rewind time, though. The words would never be said.

Not to her.

Grandpa always warned him never to put things off until
tomorrow. Tyler supposed the old man had been right. The old man to his right
shifted enough to draw attention.

“You a friend of the family, son?”

“Not exactly.” Explaining how they knew each other was
complicated. “You?”

“Well, that depends on who you ask. Seeing as how you’re
asking me, I’ll proudly say I was her uncle. I don’t claim any of the others
but Rebecca was something special.” The old man smiled. “I can still remember
the last time I saw her—a couple of months ago. She marched into her dad’s
manor with her ears clear to the back of her head like a cat about to pounce on
a mouse. It was the funniest thing I’d ever seen.”

Tyler nodded and smiled to himself. That sounded like Becca.

“I’ve never been more proud of her as I was that day. She
announced to her entire brood she was done with corporate law. She was going to
open up a private practice of her own,” he boasted. “I’m pretty sure a couple
of them had strokes there on the spot.”

Tyler remembered the day fondly. She’d picked him up and
they’d had dinner at Sky. They’d made love on the upper deck, not giving a damn
who saw them. She’d always known how to make his heart race.

“I managed to catch her mid-march out and I asked her what
finally knocked some sense into her.” He looked over with a slow grin. “She
told me she’d finally met a man who was her match in all ways. The yang to her
yin. She was always into that stuff, although I never much understood it.”

“It sounds like she was happy.”

“Yeah. The funniest thing is she swore I’d love him to
pieces even though I’ve never cared for any of the riffraff she’d dragged in
before.” He regarded Tyler for a few moments. “I figured if he loved her half
as much as she did him he’d be here today, needing a friend to get him through
this. God knows those mucks weren’t gonna make it easy on him.”

Tyler forced a few breaths from his lungs and tightened his
hands into fists. She’d loved him. Had she said so or had the man just figured
that was the case?

“The way I see it that box you’re fiddling with was
something awful important—maybe something you wish you would’ve pulled out
before you did.” Emotion chewed at the man’s voice, making it raspier. “I’ve
lived with many a regret in my life, son. That’s one I wouldn’t recommend you
carrying around.”

“It’s a little late.” He swiped a tear from his face and
looked around.

The old man’s hand trembled as he placed it over Tyler’s.
“If you’ll trust me I’ll take it the rest of the way. I suspect you aren’t
going to go up there.”

Up there meant the casket. Becca. Her family. He wasn’t
ready for that. He shook his head.

“Sometimes a man needs help doing what he wants to do.
There’s no shame in it, son. You lit her up brighter than the sun and I hope
you know she loved you.”

He did now. Thanks to this old man. He thought back to the
few happy moments she’d shared with him and one name repeated again and again.
“You must be her Uncle Silas. Talking about you always made her smile.”

The old man swiped a tear away as his lower jaw trembled.
“Hearing that makes my heart heal, son. I hope one day yours does too. She
wouldn’t want you mourning her for long. You only live once.”

The man struggled to stand and nodded unspoken gratitude
when Tyler helped him rise and position his cane. Tyler slid the ring box into
his hand. His fingers shook as he opened it and regarded the ring inside.

“It’s a mighty nice ring, son. I’ll make my way up there and
make sure she has this.” He motioned toward the pew. “We’ll talk after this is
over but if you slide out before I get back here, know I’ll help you however I
can. She’d want me to look out for you. It’s what family does. This might not
have been official, but to me you are family.”

Things changed after that. Maybe it was partly because
they’d grown older, wiser. Whatever the reason, Jason knew the accident had
been a critical turning point. There were still plenty of fun times ahead of
them but they were peppered with responsibility and a sense of caution they
hadn’t exercised before.

He hadn’t realized they’d both been exorcising their
personal demons back then. “I didn’t know how close you were to her, Goose. I’m
sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“You had your own shit to deal with. Besides, you would’ve
cramped my style.” Tyler grinned. “I was a ladies’ magnet after that. They all
wanted to fix me. Funny thing, I didn’t realize I was broken.”

“Great, just what we need,” Jason muttered as the Shady
Pines administrator marched her way toward them. “What did you do this time,
Goose?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A twinkle showed
in his gaze as he began rocking steadily.

Mrs. Flannery was one hair bun short of being declared an
old maid, even though she was probably in her late fifties at the most. Jason
couldn’t help but wonder why someone so young would dress in such dull colors.
Gray suits. Light-gray shirts. All covered with a gray or black sweater. She
paused at the top of the stairs a few feet from them and looked behind her,
where Evelyn Briggs was negotiating the stairs with her walker.

Evelyn, aka Sourpuss, had an unspoken war going on with
Tyler ever since he’d refused her invite to a church social a few months back.
Apparently she was about as used to being refused as Jason’s friend was to
refusing.

“Good day, Mrs. Flannery. What can we do for you?” Jason
took the initiative since Tyler was already in a stare-down with Evelyn.

“I’m hoping you two gentlemen,” she paused to shudder at the
use of the word, as though she’d sullied the word with men of their ilk, “can
help me. Someone glued prophylactics to the bottom of Evelyn’s walker.”

“She needs a demonstration on how to use them?” Tyler
smirked. “’Cause I could probably squeeze some time out to demonstrate.”

“Mr. Coombs, do you know anything about how they got there?”

“I wouldn’t reckon so, Mrs. Flannery, but as you know some
days are better than others when it comes to the old brain cells. The synapses
aren’t what they used to be.”

Some of the bluster in her stance vacated. Jason hid his
grin behind his hand. Son of a bitch could still handle the ladies, no matter
the situation.

“Well, I’m hoping this sort of incident does not occur
again. Such types of offensive actions and material simply cannot be condoned
here at Shady Pines.”

“Are you saying old people don’t need condoms? I’d sure
appreciate if you’d pin something on the virtual board if that’s the case.”
Tyler grinned. “It’s just not the same as going bareback.”

Mrs. Flannery’s mouth opened and closed like a big-mouthed
bass out of water. Red rose in her cheeks.

“Well I never,” declared Evelyn as she made her way toward
them.

“That explains a lot.”

Jason guffawed. The danged fool was going to get tossed out
but Evelyn’s expression almost made it worth it.

“I’ll make it my personal duty to be on the lookout for
stray condoms, Mrs. Flannery.” Tyler winked. “I’ll even ensure their proper
use.”

Jason shook his head when the two of them walked off with no
response. “Unbelievable.”

Tyler chuckled. “Empress Evelyn was probably too uptight to
know what they were.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Jason looked around and leaned
toward his friend. “You know we learned a long time ago, Goose, that the prudes
flew their freak flag a lot higher and more often than anyone else sometimes.”

“I know all about that flag. I raised it more than you,
Maverick.”

“You might’ve raised it more often but I got it up there
pretty high a couple of times. There was one time I definitely wasn’t too proud
about afterward.”

“Oh yeah? When?” Tyler challenged.

* * * * *

Intensive labor in the grueling humidity of a Texas August
wasn’t Jason’s idea of fun but the yard work gave him an outlet for his
frustration—and he was plenty frustrated. It’d been a couple of months since
Dan’s accident and he’d been everything but cooperative when it came to
physical therapy.

They’d gone through therapists like people changed their
underwear. The constant barrage of surly, argumentative male wasn’t an
endearing quality for a small collective of people trained to help Dan. The
problem was he didn’t see the point.

And Jason couldn’t really blame him.

No matter how hard he worked he’d still be stuck in that
fucking wheelchair. Every time Jason saw his friend wheel around in the thing
anger boiled within him. Why the hell hadn’t he been able to do something that
night? Why the hell couldn’t he do something now?

All he could do was keep yanking shrubs and dealing with the
“man’s work” around the house or whatever else Jeanie needed help with. Just
thinking about her brought on a bout of emotions Jason had no business gnawing
on. No matter how many times he flung them aside, they returned.

Each day made the circles beneath her eyes darker, the
weariness more prevalent on her face. She stood on the patio of her house right
now, gazing at the pool he’d just cleaned. But he doubted she saw anything
beyond whatever demon she was trying to exorcise.

Jason had taken up residence in their guest bedroom. Since
neither Jeanie nor Dan had any family to rely on, the club had become their
help. Lamar and Tyler tended bar until they could find a suitable replacement.
Jason tended books and worked the nightshift to deal with inventory and office
bullshit.

Then, of course, they all still had their work at the club
to deal with. The exhausting schedule was beginning to take a toll on Jason he
hadn’t expected. The nearness to Jeanie had killed his sex drive for anyone but
her. That fact kept him constantly on edge, ready to lunge on anything or
anyone who could absolve him of this compounding need raging within him.

Jeanie made her way toward him with a glass of pink
lemonade. How she could remember it was his favorite even though her world was
crumbling around her, he didn’t understand. Yet a part of him knew she’d made
it just for him—mainly because she hated it.

“I thought you could use a break.” She forced a smile that,
as always, never made it to her eyes. Jesus, he’d do just about anything to get
the haunted look from those gorgeous eyes. “Come sit with me.”

It was more of an order than an invitation. She padded back
to the patio with a swagger in her step he couldn’t help but notice.

He sat beside her on the swing and ignored the heat of her
body when she pressed closer. A soft sigh escaped her parted lips as she gazed
into the distance. “We’re losing him. Little by little the man I fell in love
with is dying and God help me I have no idea how to save him.”

“He’s got to want to save himself before anything we can do
will help.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Her body trembled. She
allowed the tears to flow down her face. Each one sliced into Jason but he kept
his distance, somehow managed not to draw her into his arms. “Every goddamned
day I wake up and scramble for a shard of hope, a new sliver of possibility to
reach him—to make him want to be here for me. For Vanessa.”

She reached out and took his hand. The contact was a
knockout to his libido. Her tentative gaze as it met his made his breath cease.
“And every day I watch as you fight like hell to keep my world from upending
entirely even though I, for the life of me, have no idea why the hell you’d
care after everything…”

He silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Don’t. Never,
ever think that whatever happened back then will ever have an impact on our
friendship, Jeans. I vowed a long time ago to always be there when you needed
me. I fully intend to keep that promise.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

The words were a haunted whisper, a tendril of need he clung
to as he leaned into her jasmine scent until it hung heavy in his nostrils. He
couldn’t stop the grazing of his mouth across hers. “No, you deserve so much
more than me.”

He could almost feel the weight of the statement drag them
to another reality where only they existed. Nothing mattered beyond her. Them.

Their tongues collided in a duel he knew he should stop—one
with no good end. Yet the taste of her had imprinted on him, firing blood to
his cock and inciting a hunger that the score of women he’d chased lately
hadn’t come close to sating. Before his mind caught up she was straddling him,
capturing his face in her hands and devouring him with a voracity that made his
soul ache.

But he knew this couldn’t happen. She wasn’t his. “Jeans,
stop.”

She tugged the shirt from his waistband and continued the
sultry, seductive tongue duel as she undid his jeans.

“Jeans.” One last plaintive attempt sank within his throat
as she kissed him again. To hell with doing the right thing. He’d never been a
saint—far from it.

Her hands were hot, hungry against his hard dick. He slid
his hands up her exposed thighs, thanking whatever god of sin had adorned her
in a short skirt, and brought it up to her hips.

They groaned in unison as she slid onto his thick, hard
shaft. Shock kept him still for a moment. He’d expected none of this, yet more.
She rode him hard and fast, the fury of her existence transformed into the
glide of skin on skin.

He was balls-deep in her and couldn’t help but relish the
feel of her pressed against him, the weight of her body, the smell of her hair,
the softness of her flesh beneath his hands. Neither spoke, as if one word
would cease whatever this moment was.

Their releases came on the heels of one another, although
Jason would’ve been hard pressed to know who was first. He rode the wave of
agonizing pleasure, knowing the crash to reality would be brutal.

She held his face between her hands as their breathing
returned to normal and the shock of what they’d done, the full impact, struck
Jason dead center in the chest. “Jesus, Jeans.”

“Don’t.” She pulled off him, smoothing her skirt back down
and looking around as though they hadn’t just…

Jason swept his hand in his hair and dragged his jeans back
up. What the hell
had
they just done? He was all for a quickie but son
of a bitch, that’d been downright…

Crap. Dan would kill him. “That can’t…”

“Don’t.” Her voice rose. Her eyes widened as he looked at
her. “Just don’t.”

She stormed into the house and slammed the door. Well.
Clearly she’d chosen avoidance. What the fuck was he supposed to do with this?

No. She didn’t have the right to take the avoidance road.
She’d crawled onto his lap. Like it or not, this was something they needed to
deal with. A weight pressed heavily in his chest. He recognized that weight.
Hell, he thought he’d gotten rid of it a while ago but clearly it’d just skulked
into the shadows, waiting for the perfect chance to strike.

It wasn’t fair. He deserved more than a five-second ride in
a porch swing, yet as long as he was here doing whatever the fuck they’d just
done he knew there wouldn’t be anyone else. Who the hell could hold up to her?

Fuck the “don’t”. This conversation was going to happen.

Now.

He followed her into the house, stalking from room to room
until he found her curled on the sofa in the entertainment room. “You may not
want to talk but I sure as hell do. I can’t do this, Jeans. This push and pull
is dragging us both underwater when neither of us has the strength to swim.”

“Do you think I’m proud of what we just did?” She stood and
poked him with a finger. “Besides, you fuck everything with a pulse and tits.
What difference does it make to you?”

Anger rose within him. “Who I do or don’t fuck stopped being
your business when you put that ring on your finger. The next time you need a
release, I suggest you buy a couple of batteries and help yourself.”

The slap stung but the tension between them hurt more. He
left before the retort on his tongue made the situation worse. Although he knew
whatever the fuck it was between them was intense, too much so to ignore, a
part of him felt cheapened by what they’d done.

Had it meant anything to her, or was he just a dick with a
pulse?

The thought kept him chewing on his anger all day as he
worked at the bar that night. By the end of the shift, he was sick of wallowing
in his thoughts.

“Hey, Maverick.”

The sultry voice stroked the boredom plaguing Jason with a
promise of excitement. Tia and Heather leaned against the bar they were
supposed to be scrubbing with a flicker of curiosity in their gazes. Nolan
smirked as he continued wiping down tables and dealing with the chairs.

It’d been a bitch of a week and he wasn’t in the mood to
babysit the curious minds of the two girls. They were hotter than hell, hornier
than shit every Saturday night and currently stuck in Dan’s bar until the place
got cleaned. It was a recipe for disaster on just about every front and Jason
couldn’t help but let his dick take charge for a change.

He’d spent all day thinking about what’d gone down between
him and Jeanie and no matter how many ways he spun it, he was still feeling as
if she’d used him. He’d become an outlet for her tension—her need.

While he’d probably been okay with that the fact that she
hadn’t wanted to discuss it pissed him off to no end. He was exhausted.
Mentally and physically spent and wound tighter than a drum.

Hellacious hours between the bar and the club had left him
little time to let loose—and you couldn’t get much looser than the two hot
women calling his name a second time, as though any sane man with a pulse and a
dick could’ve ignored them the first time.