Big Bad John (Bigger in Texas Series) (3 page)

The building they used as a garage was open now, revealing two brand-new, sparkling-clean trucks, three motorcycles and one dirt bike, all carefully lined up and gleaming. Jefferson took better care of his toys than he did the family home. She felt the need to lecture, but who was she to talk? She was a stranger here now.

The rusty old fifty-five Chevy truck they’d always used on the property was out in the middle of the driveway, its hood up and a toolbox beside its front tire. Someone was forever working on that piece of junk. Trudy smiled, remembering her father swearing and cooing at it as if it were a skittish colt.

Someone was working on it now. She slowed her car as she caught sight of a pair of long, thickly muscular legs covered in faded denim sticking out from beneath the truck. One was bent, a dusty boot tapping in time to music she couldn’t hear, and one straight, letting her know that whoever it was, he was tall.

Those legs belonged to John Brown. Her body’s reaction left no room for doubt.

She parked beside the Chevy and took a deep breath. Maybe he wouldn’t notice their arrival. Maybe they could sneak past him and into the house, avoiding this reunion until she could cool off and refresh her war paint. Until she could change into something that wasn’t wrinkled and damp from the heat and travel.

When she opened her car door, she immediately heard the ringing of a cell phone and looked over the hood of her rental car in time to see the boot stop tapping.

“What now?” His voice was deep and rasping, exactly the way she remembered. She leaned against the door when her knees turned to Jell-O.

There was a long pause and then. “Good to know. Yes. No, I don’t think so. I’ll get right on that, boss.”

Caroline had stepped out of the car and Trudy forced herself to walk around the hood to join her as the shirtless man slid out from beneath the Chevy and sat up. John looked up at them in silence for a moment, a slow subtle smile lighting his eyes and transforming his rugged features as he focused in on her. “Welcome home, Trouble.”

Caroline’s whispered, “Oh my,” was difficult to hear with her heart pounding so loudly in her ears. Trudy’s memories had been detailed. Graphically detailed. But they still hadn’t done him justice.

John was…

Kinda broad at the shoulder and narrow at the hip

And everybody knew you didn’t give no lip to Big John

Damn that song anyway. She didn’t need it to remind her that he was perfect. Strong. That she wanted to do so much more to him than give him lip. She squeezed her thighs together as he pushed himself to a standing position, shoved his phone and mp3 player into his pocket and strode closer.

He was impossible to avoid. The definition of the word
masculine
should have his picture beside it in the dictionary. He
was
broad–shouldered. Well-muscled in a way that came from hard work and genetics, not gyms and protein shakes, and tan from working the land rather than from an expensive spray at the salon. His chest was lightly covered with damp dark blond hair, glistening with sweat and streaked with grease, and Trudy had to fight the instinct to press herself against him and inhale his scent. To stroke that strong jaw covered in light brown stubble, to trace those sharp cheekbones. To run her fingers through the wavy blond hair that curled wetly around his ears and swooped over his forehead, untamed. The only soft thing about the man was his lower lip. She wanted to suck it. Wanted to taste him.

She’d missed him. She’d had no idea how much until now.

She tried to breathe and focus on regaining her swiftly disappearing control. Her reaction to him had always been a primal one. A submissive one, she knew now after more than a decade of distance, three doomed relationships and years of experience at the club.

At nineteen, hell, even at twenty-one, she’d been too innocent to understand the way he made her feel. All she’d known was he was dangerous. That she had the desire to give him whatever he wanted. That despite her urge to run, if he’d told her to stay
for him
…

But he hadn’t.

He was watching her with those intense light-blue eyes, squinting to study her beneath the blazing afternoon sun. She wondered what he saw. Other than the subtle indigo highlights she’d rebelliously added to a few of her thick brown curls last week, and the tattoo that could only be seen when her pants were down, she hadn’t changed that much.

Don’t kid yourself, your breasts aren’t nineteen anymore. Everything has changed.

“Trouble?” Caroline’s voice made Trudy stiffen in shock. She’d forgotten they weren’t alone.  “Oh, I do love that. Please tell me that was her nickname in high school. I know that’s what I’d call her. In fact, I’m kicking myself for not thinking of it first.”

She stuck out her hand and Trudy watched John’s large palm engulf her small, elegantly manicured fingers politely. “I’m Caroline Aaron, by the way. You must be Big John.”

One of John’s sandy brown eyebrows rose and he glanced at Trudy again. Caroline laughed. “We ran into a sweet old man and his son down the road while we were in nothing but our unmentionables. It was all very scandalous, I’m afraid. He was the one who mentioned your name.”

Trudy noticed John’s lips tighten when Caroline mentioned the unmentionables. “The Gieses? What happened? What did Tommy say?”

“He was rude, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Caroline nodded, her hand leaving his to fan at her face. “Do you think we could take this conversation inside? I believe I could be close to having a fit of the vapors. Isn’t that what happens this far south? Well, now I understand why.”

Trudy sucked her lips, holding back her smile at the bewildered expression on John’s face as he nodded. “Sure.” He turned to snare Trudy’s gaze. “Trudy and I will bring in the bags.”

He wanted to speak to her alone. She could see it in his eyes.

When Caroline glanced her way, Trudy nodded. “That door leads to the kitchen, and there’s a guest bathroom right beside it. Make yourself at home, freshen up and get cooled off. I’ll be right behind you.”

Caroline’s nod was hesitant, but the idea of a bathroom and more air conditioning seemed to motivate her. She reached inside the car for her large purse and turned to walk toward the house, her shorts clinging to her perfect backside in a way that demanded admiration.

Trudy looked up at John through her lashes, certain he would be distracted by the view. But he wasn’t looking at Caroline. His beautiful eyes were heated as they unmistakably focused on Trudy’s breasts. On the V-neck of her T-shirt, which was decorated with classic pin-up girls posing with their curves on display.

“John?”

His jaw tensed. “Trudy?” he mocked softly. “We need to talk.”

She was back. It was about damn time. Being this close to her, near enough that he could reach out and grab hold, was making it hard for him to believe he’d managed to wait this long. 

John was a patient man. Life was hard and long, but with careful determination, even the lightest breeze could eventually wear down a mountainside. At least, that was what he’d come to believe, and that was the way he’d tried to live his life, with restraint and patience. The way a man with his size and history had to live.

Until he met the one woman who could apparently out-stubborn him—Gertrude Estevez Adams.

When she left all those years ago, he’d never imagined the move would be permanent. She’d had words with her father, but he’d bet that as soon as the California lights dimmed, she’d come home and make it right. That hadn’t happened. She’d only come home to bury her father, and John—in a moment of weakness—had forgotten himself, forgotten his patience, and then let her slip through his hands. When she’d left again, it forced him to readjust his thinking. She needed more time. Eleven years more time, it seemed. If he’d known that back then…

John looked down at her and his pulse pounded as all the blood in his body rushed south. If he’d known, he still would have let her go, but he’d have given her more than a taste of what she was leaving behind.

Trudy pushed one stray curl behind her ear, revealing the golden skin there and making him lick his lips in anticipation. She was home now. That was all that mattered.

“We need to talk,” he repeated softly, reaching for the first bulging piece of luggage.

“About what?” Trudy’s voice was low, and she wasn’t looking him in the eye. “You said he needed me. I’m here. Is it more than a broken leg, John? Is he sick and not telling me?”

The guilt and worry threaded through those words made him swear silently at himself. Some part of him had known she would think that, and hadn’t cared. Whatever it took to get her to come. Was he a bastard for putting her through that?

“Bruises and a clean break,” he assured her. “That isn’t the problem.”

Trudy bit her lip and John held back a groan. “Is it money, then? Mr. Giese said Jefferson made a deal with him. Are we selling off the land now or something? Are things that bad?”

John bristled. “
No
.” Not even close. He’d worked his ass off to ensure that the G&J became a self-sustaining success. That despite the current state of the economy, she would never lose her family’s land. Didn’t she read any of Jefferson’s productivity reports? He knew they were copied to her email. He’d made sure of it.

And speaking of the Gieses, what the hell had Tommy seen of Trudy that was so scandalous? He had a sudden desire to beat the little snot down until he found out.

“Then what?” Trudy finally looked up at him in frustration. “Stop being so damned monosyllabic and tell me, John. Why did you bring me here?”

If that wasn’t a loaded question…

There was more than one reason, most of them she wasn’t ready for and some he wasn’t ready to admit. But there was one that had been a good enough excuse to send that email. “Your brother auditioned for a show. They’re calling it The Real Fall Guys. They’ll be flying him to Los Angeles as soon as his cast is off.”

John tried not to smile at the adorable expression of shock on her face. When her lips parted, he had to restrain himself from leaning down to kiss her. God, she was a sight for sore eyes. All sweet curves and warm, golden skin, her brown eyes flecked with green and framed by thick lashes that he wanted to feel leaving a trail of butterfly light kisses on his skin as she kissed her way down his body. The purple streaks in her hair were new, but they didn’t diminish her natural beauty. They revealed the wild streak he’d always known was in her. The need to rebel. To do something forbidden.

He wanted to be the one she did it with.

She’d said something. He knew because she’d placed her hands on her hips and was glaring as she waited for a response. “What?”

“That was my question,” she grumbled. “What the hell are you talking about? What kind of show? Jefferson never mentioned anything to me about an audition.” A frown furrowed her brow. “Tommy said he was showing off for the cam—The
Real
Fall Guys? As in stunt men? As in a reality show? Did my brother break his leg while auditioning for a
reality
show?”

John nodded.

She swore in Spanish. That meant she was really upset. Would she swear at him like that when she was begging him to let her come? John’s erection pressed uncomfortably against his zipper, demanding release.

Trudy was still talking. “That’s why he’s making the deal with Giese isn’t it? Travel expenses? So he can go and injure himself repeatedly for the amusement of the viewing audience?”

John lifted one shoulder noncommittally, not bothering to correct her and feeling like an ass, but he was unable to do much more. He
was
concerned that Jefferson was being an idiot, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything but the lusciously curved body in front of him. Her smell, like wildflowers and sunshine. Like sun-warmed honey. He wanted a taste.

She swore again and grabbed her bag, turning to head toward the house. John reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Trudy,” he began.

“John…” She lowered her voice. “I get it. You’re a good friend to this family. You saved my father, and now you’re saving my brother by bringing me home to show him that Hollywood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. That there are more broken dreams than happy endings, something he apparently hasn’t learned on his last four trips to visit me. And though I might take offense to the failed singer stereotype, especially since I just got a—” She cut herself off, taking a deep breath. “Trust me, I don’t want him embarrassing himself or worse for fifteen short minutes of fame either. I’ll do what I can.”

That wasn’t why— Jesus, did she really believe—

His cell phone rang, muffled through the fabric of his jeans pocket. “That’ll be him again.”

She glanced down at his pocket…and lingered on his body’s unmistakable reaction. “Is he calling you from the house?”

John grimaced. “Only every five minutes since the cast went on.” His grip on her arm tightened and he pulled her closer. Almost close enough to feel her full breasts press against his bare skin. “Every two minutes since your plane landed. Trudy, I don’t think—“

“I need to see him,” she interrupted, breathlessly. “And shower and make sure Caroline gets settled in. I won’t mention it yet, okay? We can talk strategy later.”

Her cheeks were flushed. With the heat, or his touch? He didn’t want to let her go. Didn’t want to take his hand off her arm. But now wasn’t the time or place to do all the things he wanted, to take what he needed.

He gritted his teeth and forced his fingers to relax, releasing her and stepping back with a sharp nod. She wasn’t going anywhere.

The phone started ringing again as she reached the top step of the porch with her small bag and John fished the phone out of his pocket, lifting it to his ear with a sigh of frustration. “
What
?”

Jefferson whistled. “Did you see her?”

John turned around to glare at the main house’s second story window. “You’re the one looking out the window like a nosy grandmamma, Junior. You tell me.”