Tyler Page 9

  But now it was about Jess, and it pissed him off.

  “You know what?” Tyler pushed aside his doodles and got to his feet. “Screw you guys. When you want to talk about work, come and find me.”

  He stalked out. Grant said, Ooo, and Adam chortled.

  Whatever. Assholes. It was like being in high school again. Worse. Now his brothers had suffered through life and weren’t just being ignorant and young.

  Tyler slammed out of the house. From the front porch, the view over the ranch, with hills that ran to the horizon under the blue sky, almost soothed him. Almost. He looked over at the barn, which was teeming with ranch hands and horses. Circle C was a working ranch, which meant they never stopped working.

  Horses filled every stall in the barn and the mare pens outside it. One of the corrals held a couple horses, old friends, one a mare who’d just foaled. The foal, a little filly, was adorable with her wobbly long legs and tiny face. She didn’t like her mother to be too far from her, but she was wide-eyed and curious. Dominic would love her.

  Damn it.

  Even the arch of sky, soft air, far cooler than the August pall in Dallas, failed to ease him. Tyler marched along the porch that stretched the full length of the house and in again through the kitchen door. He’d grab a cold drink and head to the office or maybe help turn out the horses due for corral time.

  The kitchen wasn’t deserted. Grace Malory—no, Grace Sullivan—her belly protruding with Carter’s coming baby, puttered between refrigerator, stove, and counter, cooking something that smelled awesome. Savory and spicy, just what Tyler liked. His mouth watered.

  Grace turned as Tyler stormed in, her smile a bit tired but welcoming. “Try this,” she said without greeting.

  She shoved a spoonful of something meaty and flavorful into his mouth. Tyler chewed, tasting beef and sauce, with spices that made his eyes water.

  “Damn, that’s good,” he said when he could speak. “You should have married Carter a long time ago.”

  “So it’s not too much? Too spicy? Does it need more oregano?”

  Tyler had only a vague idea of what oregano was so he shook his head. “It’s perfect. I’ll eat that.”

  He started for the stove, where a pot of whatever it was he’d tasted bubbled. Grace stepped in front of him before he could get far—she could move fast for a pregnant woman.

  “Don’t even think about it.” She glared. “It’s the enchilada filling for dinner. I’d like to have enough to actually put into the enchiladas.”

  “Fine, fine.” Tyler surrendered. Grace was one hell of a cook, had been ready to go pro at one time, and was once more putting together plans to open a restaurant here in Riverbend. But woe to anyone who got in her way. “I’ll just grab a glass of water.” Tyler fetched a glass from the cupboard and filled up from the RO faucet on the sink. Unfiltered Texas water was best left for washing dishes.

  “So, are you going to see her again?”

  Tyler nearly choked. Grace stood next to him, spoon in her hand and a steely look in her eye.

  Tyler had known Grace Malory all his life—they’d been in the same grade in school. She had dark hair and green eyes and the Malory good looks, but Tyler had never had a chance with her. Her heart had always belonged to Carter.

  Any of Tyler’s suggestions that he and Grace go out once they were in high school had been met with a polite rebuff. Tyler had finally stepped aside, telling himself the good girl thing wasn’t for him.

  Carter had sure lucked out though. Grace was pretty, sweet, and she could cook.

  She also had a will of iron. Tyler wasn’t getting out of here without answering the question.

  He shrugged. “It was a one-time thing, honey. You know how it is with me.”

  Grace’s frown deepened. “Don’t honey me. Carter told me all about Jessica. You’ve never brought any of your conquests—not to mention her son and her son’s babysitter—to a family lunch. Who is she, and are you going to see her again?”

  Tyler loved his family, especially his sisters-in-law, but shit, their prying could drive a man crazy.

  “She doesn’t want to see me again,” he growled, and was again startled at how empty that made him feel. “My brothers probably scared her off. You should be asking them about her.”

  He made to storm out, but Grace got in his way. He couldn’t exactly shove aside the woman carrying his niece or nephew—they’d decided to have it be a surprise—so he stopped, waiting for her to let him pass.

  “Don’t get all grouchy,” Grace said. “Carter says she’s nice. But also that she has a lot of troubles. It’s likely she doesn’t want you caught in them. So, what are you going to do?”

  Tyler made himself not snarl. “I thought maybe I’d leave her alone and mind my own business.”

  That was definitely not what he would do, but his family didn’t need to be in on every detail. He’d already discussed things with a friend of Carter’s and put a few plans in motion.

  Grace gave him a sisterly look. “We worry about you, Tyler. That’s all.”

  Of course they did. Had since he’d been eighteen and nearly gone off the deep end at Lindsey’s death, out of his mind with grief and guilt. His whole family had clubbed together to look after him, fearing the worst.

  Tyler had wanted to tell them they had nothing to worry about—he wasn’t self-destructive. That would be too easy. He also knew that a life for a life was no answer. He had to suck it up.

  Except he hadn’t been able to tell his brothers and mom that because he couldn’t talk about it. Literally. When he tried, his lips would stiffen until they wouldn’t move, and his tongue had lain like lead in his mouth.

  Tyler knew his family cared, and way in the back of his mind, he appreciated it. The front of his mind had mostly gotten drunk.

  He’d gone on, day by day, getting involved in the ranch and the running of it. Horses were used in therapy by some psychologists, and Tyler could attest that hanging around the animals worked. Horses didn’t judge you—well, except for Buster—and they didn’t ask you twenty times a day if you were all right. They accepted you as you were and didn’t fret about existential stuff.

  Tyler had slowly regained his equilibrium. He’d started dating again a few years later, and the family had held their breaths. He knew they’d hoped he’d find a woman, settle down with her, and forget.

  Didn’t work like that. Tyler hadn’t wanted to get close to anyone, not anytime soon. The wound still smarted. He never wanted to face that grief again.

  And now, Jess …

  Jess was special. Grace understood that without even meeting her.

  Special because she wanted nothing to do with Tyler at all? Or maybe because, from what he saw in her eyes, she understood pain?

  No—Tyler had gone out with lots of women who played hard to get, and plenty of people understood pain. There was an unfortunate amount of it in the world. Neither one was the reason Tyler had fixed on Jess.

  Maybe it was because she’d been soft under his body, her kisses igniting him. Or maybe the way she’d run her hand down his back, pulling him against her, her eyes darkening in passion. Or the honesty of her release, the utter joy of feeling every second of it.

  There was something real about Jess. She didn’t layer on a ton of makeup to hide the tiniest wrinkle, or slide into clothes way too tight and pretend to be the life of the party. Jess hadn’t had a goal that night. She’d just been living her life. Tyler had been living his, as weird as it was, and they’d … connected.

  Grace’s worried look had relaxed, and Tyler blinked himself back to the present.

  “Call her,” Grace said. “I dare you. You might be surprised.”

  Such sage advice. Tyler realized two things—one, he agreed with Grace, and two, he didn’t have Jess’s phone number.

  But he knew where she lived and knew where she worked. That was something.

  Tyler caught a startled Grace by the shoulders and gave her a firm kiss on the
cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Grace. You should have held out for me instead of Carter. I’m so much better looking.”

  He knew damn well Carter had entered the kitchen, stopping just inside the door. Grace glanced at her husband and took on a look of radiant happiness.

  “That’s what you think,” she said to Tyler.

  “Tyler, quit kissing my wife and go do something useful.” Carter headed for Grace, ready to barrel Tyler out of the way.

  Tyler gave him the finger as he moved past Grace to the back door. He turned to give Carter a parting shot, but the words died when he saw Carter reach Grace.

  He watched from the doorway as Carter rested his hands on Grace’s belly and sank into her. Things were awkward with Grace’s rotundness, but that only changed the picture from lovers to a family.

  Tyler left them to it, a hollowness in his heart. He was glad that Carter, a seriously damaged man, had found so much happiness. But their joy reminded Tyler of his own loneliness.

  Up until this weekend, he’d been able to banish that loneliness. Now, it reared its ugly head and bit him like Buster.

  * * *

  Jess tried to get back to normal, and quickly realized “normal” pretty much sucked.

  Her first night back at the bar, Elijah and his boys didn’t show up at all. Neither did Tyler.

  Jess spent that night staring at the stool where Tyler had sat and first caught her eye, not liking how empty it looked. She imagined he was at home now with his brothers, or maybe at his local bar, flirting with the ladies there.

  Jess’s heart burned at the thought, and she turned away to scrub out glasses with unneeded viciousness.

  Dominic went to school and Jess picked him up afterward. He was excited about the first week but grew restive as the days went on, wanting to ride his bike as often as he could. Mrs. Alvarez arrived every day after Dominic got home, and Jess went to work. Over and over again.

  Jess treasured her time with Dominic, but the rest of her life was hard. She was never caught up with money—something always went wrong as soon as she had an extra dollar or two.

  She knew Tyler had a point about her working here, but Jess’s point was valid as well. It wasn’t easy to simply march out and demand any job she wanted. She was a good bartender, but not all bars were equal. Some paid crap. Some wouldn’t even consider hiring her, because of her occasional shakiness. Not every bar or restaurant had good insurance, and Jess needed that, both for herself and Dominic.

  This bar’s owner provided decent health coverage that didn’t take too much out of her paycheck, and she made tips. If Jess changed jobs, it would mean starting all over again, and she’d either be denied coverage altogether or her premiums would be through the roof.

  Jess went through the motions, working night after night among dangerous men who kept their hands off her only because they’d have to answer to Elijah or her ex. She served drinks, kept her head down, and went home to Dominic.

  One day, maybe, she’d save enough, and she and Dominic would get a place of their own. Then she could stop.

  Dominic might be an old man by that time, married with kids and grandkids, and probably taking care of her. But whatever. At least, no matter what else happened in her life, she had Dominic.

  As the days went by, Jess’s gaze strayed more and more to the barstool in the corner, her heart squeezing whenever she saw another man sitting there. Tyler had touched her life, whether she liked it or not. He wouldn’t be leaving her thoughts anytime soon, and that was the way of it.

  Two weeks later, Jess had one of her very bad days—her pain levels were high, and she’d been off balance and dropping things, her left hand weakening as it sometimes did. She told Buddy at the bar what was happening so the waitresses could take the drinks without Jess having to lift them. She had workarounds for everything, but it was frustrating to be so slow and clumsy.

  Of course, Elijah had to show up tonight. He hadn’t been around for two solid weeks. Jess had half hoped he’d moved on, or been arrested, or decided to emigrate to whatever country would let him in.

  That would be too good to be true. Unfortunately, his permanent absence would cause her some problems, especially when it came to paying for necessities. The man had her right where he wanted her.

  Elijah sidled up to the bar, giving Jess a nod as she automatically poured out his favorite draft beer.

  “How you been?” he mumbled in his gravelly voice, broken from too many years of smoke and alcohol. “Doing okay?”

  “Fine,” Jess responded, pushing the beer to him. If her shaky hand made a bit of foam slosh onto his reaching fingers, oh well.

  “You look good.” Elijah’s light blue eyes moved up and down her as he wiped his hand on his jeans. His gaze settled on the curve of her bosom that showed over her low-cut top. “How’s the kid?”

  “He’s fine.” Jess answered more stiffly this time. She didn’t like Elijah talking about Dominic, or even saying his name.

  “He’s a good kid.” Elijah took a sip of beer, and Jess shot him a sharp look. Elijah never took much interest in her son.

  A group of guys crowded against the other side of the bar—the unassuming biker who’d been nursing a beer there picked it up in annoyance and moved to the pool tables. Jess left Elijah to draw more beers. Her training in complicated drinks was wasted here.

  When things quieted down, Jess turned to see that Elijah had moved to the barstool where Tyler had sat. Elijah with his craggy face and grizzled hair, prematurely gray, was a far cry from Tyler’s lazy handsomeness.

  Jess’s heart skipped as she thought of Tyler bracing himself over her, his face softening with passion as he slid inside her. She’d never had better—she never would again.

  Did Elijah’s smirk mean he’d deliberately taken Tyler’s place? Or was he just being his usual shit self?

  “We need to talk, Jess,” he said casually.

  With Elijah, nothing was casual. “What about?”

  “Lots of things. You getting any better?”

  “No,” Jess said in a hard voice. “Chronic means no.”

  “That’s too bad. I’d hate to cut you off from what you need.”

  Damn it. Elijah always said crap like that when he wanted a favor.

  “I’d find a way to get by,” Jess said without confidence. Insurance helped, but it didn’t pay everything. No one without money was allowed to have anything wrong with them, it seemed.

  “Sure, you would,” Elijah said. He gave her what passed for a smile. “If you’re wondering where I’ve been, sweetheart, I’ve been to see Cade.”

  Jess stopped, her heart thudding. Cade Emmons. Her ex-husband.

  His image rose in her mind—trim, handsome, with a goatee beard and dark hair that curled back naturally from his forehead. When she’d first met Cade, Jess had been bowled over by how good-looking he was, how take-charge. He didn’t have the muscular bulk of Elijah and other bikers, but he had strength and a forbidding air that had attracted her in her innocence. Jess had been just eighteen, with a dad more interested in his new family in Houston than in her, and a mom who worked too hard to pay attention. Jess had been reaching for someone who would tell her what to do in a bewildering world, and Cade had been there.

  She’d realized her mistake too late. By the time Jess had discovered that Cade was a womanizing, brutal bully, her mother had moved to Wyoming with a new husband, and Jess was left on her own to take care of a child and figure out life.

  Though they’d already been divorced when he’d gone to prison, with a restraining order on Cade, Jess had only felt a modicum of safety once Cade was behind bars. The prison was in El Paso, a day’s drive, but that was not far enough, Jess always thought. She wondered if she could convince the prison system to transfer him to Alaska or some other satisfyingly remote place.

  “Oh?” Jess said, as Elijah waited for a response. “Did you have a good trip?”

  “Don’t try to be funny.” Elijah rested his tattooed f
ingers on the bar. “He’s looking forward to seeing you again.”

  Tendrils of cold brushed Jess’s spine. “He’s serving a ten-year stretch for being a violent criminal,” she said, more to reassure herself than anything else. “And he keeps getting into fights, from what I hear.”

  “Not lately.” Elijah looked triumphant. “The parole board reviewed his case again, and finally decided in his favor. They’re letting him out next week. And you, Jess, are going with me to pick him up.”

  Chapter Nine

  Jessica wasn’t sure how she got out of the bar, but she dropped the cloth she’d picked up and fled, dodging and patrons and tables until she was outside in the parking lot, pacing in the night’s heat.

  Elijah strolled out after her, taking his time. He leaned against a motorcycle parked there, not his own, and lit a cigarette. Jess saw another biker who’d also come out for a smoke halfway across the lot but she didn’t much care if Elijah’s friends heard her.

  Elijah’s cigarette end glowed orange. Jess faced him, rage cutting through her fear.

  “This wasn’t the deal. The deal is, I don’t have to see Cade ever again. And in return—”

  “In return you do me favors. This is one. Me and his lawyer convinced the parole board that you wanted your husband back, especially so his son could see his daddy. You come with me to pick him up, to keep up the picture that you want him back. Got it?”

  Parole boards in Texas didn’t always meet in person—they reviewed the files and made decisions in a short meeting over the phone. No dramatic parole hearing scenes where she could plead for them to not let Cade out. They’d met several times, denying him parole each time, and Jess had assumed he had no hope.

  “You lied, you mean.” Jessica slammed her arms over her chest, deliberately not coughing at the stream of smoke Elijah blew into her face. “Forget it. Cade is dangerous, and he’s not coming near me or Dominic. Ever. You promised.”

  “He’s my best friend.” Elijah’s voice hardened. “You’re the bitch who ruined his life. I take care of you because Cade asked me to, not because it’s what you want. There’s nothing wrong with him. Don’t piss him off, and he’s a perfect gentleman most of the time.”