Big Bad John (Bigger in Texas Series) (4 page)

“What the hell else am I supposed to do up here, John? I have two more days before the doc gives me the boot I can start walking around in. I wish she’d waited to make her plane reservations until then.”

“You’re talkin’, but all I hear is bitch, bitch, bitch,” John grumbled, walking over to the truck to close up his toolbox and lower the hood. “How many times have you wanted her to come home for a visit?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know she’d be bringing company.” Jefferson sounded frazzled. “Are you sure Margery can’t come back for the next two weeks?”

John snorted. “I know you’re going stir-crazy, but that woman had her hip replaced not two months ago and her eightieth birthday a month before that. Her days of keeping this place organized and dinner on the table have come to an end. Her son Billy would break your other leg for asking,”

They’d already gone over this. Twice. What the hell was Jefferson’s problem? 

The man was tense.  But then, so was John. He’d been up since well before dawn to get what needed to be done out of the way.

And to get last night’s fantasy out of his mind.

The one where Trudy got out of the car and he threw her over his shoulder, taking her to his place and handcuffing her to his bed until she promised to stay for good.

John leaned against the truck and stared at the rental tags on Trudy’s car. “Relax. The house is clean enough, and I’m sure you’re sister hasn’t gotten so spoiled out west that she’s forgotten how to cook for her own company. They’ll survive.”

“I think she’s vegan,” Jefferson muttered.

“
Trudy
? When the hell did that happen?”

“Caroline.”

“Well, I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means.” John’s tone was sarcastic. “But I’m sure it’s a California ill that can be cured by a thick Texas T-bone.”

“Haha. I wish Trudy had told me sooner, is all. Caroline Aaron is, well, she could make one phone call and my television career would be over before it gets started.” He paused. “You know, I never got to meet her. Trudy always said she was busy when I’d go up for the weekend, but now…”

John smirked. “Now you know.” And so did he. Trudy wasn’t stupid. Her friend was exactly the kind of woman that drove Jefferson crazy. Beautiful and unmistakably feminine with just the right edge of dangerous. Not enough curves for a man like John to hold onto, but he could see the attraction.

He heard the sound of rustling and a crash. John frowned. “What happened?”

“I can hear them downstairs,” Jefferson groaned. “I haven’t shaved in two days and I look like hell.”

“Real stunt men don’t talk like teenage girls, Junior. I’m sure you’re pretty enough for your sister. As for her friend, I’m thinking she’s out of your league. That woman would eat you for breakfast.”

“You think so?”

The interested tone made John roll his eyes. “Hanging up now. Have to bring in all their bags. Might take a few hours so don’t break anything else or call me again.”

He shook his head as he hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket. Caroline might be in trouble. Jefferson was reckless and wild, yes, but he was also determined. As passionate and stubborn as his sister when he wanted something. And he’d obviously seen something he wanted.

The friend hadn’t figured in John’s plans either. But it was a telling move on Trudy’s part. She’d brought reinforcements. As if that would protect her. She could have brought an army and it wouldn’t make one damn bit of difference to his plans.

He picked up the four bags that belonged to their guest, holding them easily while he closed the trunk of the rental with his elbow, then his long strides took him toward the Adam’s home with renewed determination.

He remembered the first time he’d seen Trudy. Her father had invited him along for dinner—a thank-you for being in the right place at the right time after the man had had one too many and driven his truck into a tree. There’d been no time for the volunteer fire department to bring in the Jaws of Life, so John had used his hands to peel the crumpled door off its hinges and free the man. Matt Adams had been so impressed he refused to let him leave empty-handed.

When they arrived at the old house, Matt’s head wound bandaged and his arm in a sling, John noticed her right away. Trudy was sitting on the front porch steps, strumming her beat-up guitar and singing softly, her eyes closed, her long dark lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks.

Her voice had struck him first, caressed his skin. Sultry and passionate and filled with more emotion than someone that young should know. Then he’d gotten closer… and she’d taken his breath away.

Full, bow-shaped lips made for kissing. Skin like honey. Dark brown curls that fell down her back like silk ribbons. He’d wanted to touch it. Touch her. When she set down the guitar to greet them and he saw the lush, ripe body barely covered by lemon-yellow shorts and the white lace halter pulled tight across her round, succulent breasts… Well, it was a miracle her daddy hadn’t shot him that night. A miracle he’d managed to hang on to some semblance of control and make a good enough impression that he was invited to stay on. To have a new life, a world away from the one he’d left behind.

Seventeen. When he’d discovered how young she was, it had helped to keep him in check. His desires at twenty-seven were too dark to share with an innocent, though the idea of teaching her what he wanted was so tempting it made him hard. How many nights had he taken himself in hand, finding temporary release to images of her wide-eyed obedience? Of her kneeling in front of him, her wrists bound and his hands full of the silk of her hair as she learned how to take him in her mouth? Learned how to love the taste of his come, the tightness of her bonds and the bite of his teeth.

He stopped outside the front door and took a deep breath, his body still reacting as strongly as it had that first night to the idea of taking her. But things were different now. Back then, she was a small town girl who was ten years his junior, and at that age, it mattered.

It didn’t matter anymore. She was a grown woman now, one who knew a thing or two about darker desires.

He wasn’t unaware of what she’d been up to in California. Long before Jefferson decided to visit, he’d made it his business to know. At first he’d had an old friend—one who’d moved to Los Angeles from Louisiana years before—check up on her at her work or a club where she was singing. Now and then. To make sure she was safe. That she didn’t make any mistakes she couldn’t come back from.

He didn’t feel guilty about it and he damn sure wouldn’t apologize. Then again, he wasn’t planning on telling her anytime soon.

The last few years she’d made checking up on her easier with her YouTube channel. She’d talk about her day and sing her latest song, as if she were singing directly to him. Talking to him. When he saw the number of visitors that came to watch her videos, it made him unaccountably proud.

The way he’d found out about her kink was honestly accidental. He’d come across an intriguing back and forth in the comments section for her song, Tied Up, and discovered that someone had shared a link to an article on a fetish site about rope trainers, and the author looked all too familiar. Discovering she was a part of the same online BDSM community he was had startled him at first, made him jealous as hell second and then…unceasingly aroused.

He may have found her by accident but he’d stayed and returned to her profile again and again, reading her discussions with her friends and followers on rope bondage and the things that turned her on. She’d written about how someone should teach men what women really wanted. What she wanted. Hell, he’d even had a few titillating late-night conversations with her and a few others on the site when he was too tempted to resist. But he’d never let her know who he was. That he was hiding behind the moniker Badland38.

Maybe he was a son of a bitch for invading her privacy like that, but it made him feel connected. As if she weren’t so far away. Knowing she was safe was a relief, but knowing what she liked, and that they shared more in common than this place that she’d run from, gave him hope and the will to wait.

John had wanted Trudy from the moment he laid eyes on her. And though he’d been with other women, played with other women over the years, she was always in the back of his mind. In all his erotic daydreams and nighttime fantasies.  She definitely wasn’t the innocent seventeen-year-old anymore, but he still believed he had a few things to teach her.

He pushed open the screen door and heard the women talking. It was nice. Other than his bee wrangler Glory, and sweet old Margery, there’d been no women on the property for a long time.  The smell of perfume and the soft, feminine chatter made his lips quirk in a semi-smile.  If he had his way this house would never be quiet again.

***

“You look good, sis.” Trudy watched Jefferson glance over her shoulder, as if expecting someone else, before his gaze returned to hers. “Thanks for cleaning up the mess I made in here. How was your flight?”

“How was yours?” Trudy returned wryly, gathering the garbage bag full of lamp pieces and food containers, tying it and setting it by the door before sitting on the edge of his bed. “From Margery’s phone call this morning, I hear you managed to soar ten feet above your dirt bike before you fell and broke that leg. Sounds impressive.”

And not like her brother at all. Oh the jump sounded like something he’d done a million times—it was the falling she was suspicious of. Jefferson never missed a shot he aimed for, never met a horse he couldn’t tame and
never
fell. Not since he was a long-limbed preteen. His agility only made him that much more reckless. And usually unbearably cocky.

She pushed her wet, clean curls out of her face and sat down on the bed beside him. “How?”

He shrugged his bare shoulder and shifted the sheet on his lap. “It happens, Trudy. Nobody’s perfect. You’ve told me that a million times. Eventually everybody falls. I wouldn’t seem human if I didn’t.”

“Uh-huh.” Everybody. Not Jefferson.
He wouldn’t seem human…
She’d had enough talks with Caroline about what happened behind the scenes in the entertainment industry to know the people auditioning her brother had no doubt suggested he shouldn’t be so…perfect. Perfect was bad for reality television. People watched the train wrecks far more than they watched the heroes.

Jefferson glanced at the door again and Trudy pursed her lips. Speaking of potential train wrecks…“Looking for someone?”

She studied her brother’s flushed face, marveling as she always did at his good looks. Jefferson had won the gene pool lottery—the darker skin and thick, wavy hair of their mother, the clear, almost ice green eyes—so much lighter than Caroline’s they were startling—and height of their father. The bastard even had a set of deep, irresistible dimples when he smiled. She always thought he looked like a movie star, but she never imagined he’d actually audition for a show in Hollywood.

He smiled adorably in her direction, dimples on parade. “Your friend. I’m worried I might have embarrassed her while you were in the shower.”

Trudy groaned. “What did you do?”

“I dropped my phone and it slid across the floor. I was reaching for it when I broke the other lamp. I think she heard me swearing, because she came in right when I’d managed to get up on my good leg to reach for it.” When Trudy continued to look at him blankly, his smile deepened. “I was naked.”

Trudy smirked. “Caroline has seen her share of naked bodies, Jefferson. Not to insult you or anything but…”

Jefferson didn’t look insulted. He looked proud. “She’s never seen mine. I think she was impressed. Maybe that’s why she didn’t stick around to help sweep up the glass after she helped me back into the bed.”

“Shameless.” She laughed and shook her head, standing up when she heard the water stop in the hallway bathroom. “You haven’t changed at all have you, hon? This time, though, I think you’ve met your Waterloo. Caroline isn’t like any woman you’re used to. Trust me. I’ve seen more experienced Romeos than you crash and burn. You wouldn’t even make her list.”

“List?” Jefferson narrowed his green eyes and Trudy swore silently. She shouldn’t have said anything. She knew how competitive he was. But maybe this was good. He needed a little cold water splashed on his over confident ass.

She held up her fingers and counted. “You’re thirty-four. She doesn’t date men over ten years younger than she is. Not even by a month. You have no tattoos. And before you ask, yes, it’s a thing for her. You aren’t from California, and she doesn’t do long distance. There’s more but you get the idea.”

And as far as Trudy knew, her brother wasn’t into kink. Not that she wanted to know—he was as entitled to his own private life as she was to hers.

Jefferson frowned. “How seriously does she take this list of hers?”

“Very,” Trudy intoned warningly. “Be polite and don’t embarrass yourself okay? I mean it. If you make her uncomfortable I’ll leave you up here to starve and take away your phone privileges.”

Jefferson laughed. “Stop worrying so much, Trudy. You’re starting to sound like Dad. You never used to worry about anything.”

She’d learned. “People change,” she offered lightly. “They grow up. Most people anyway. Now what would you like for dinner?”

“Whatever you can cook.” Jefferson grimaced. “John has the pantry and fridge stocked, but neither one of us holds a candle to Margery. And I’m pretty sure we’re out of tofu.”

“Tofu?” Trudy snorted. “
I’m
pretty sure we’ve never had any tofu in this house. I’ll grill some steaks okay? That should make everyone happy.”

“Isn’t Caroline a vegan?”

“No, in fact, that woman can pack it away like you and John. Her metabolism is inhuman.” She paused, rolling her eyes. “And that is the last time I tell you anything about
my friend
. The less you know, the easier this will be.”

“Whatever you say. Don’t make too much. It’ll only be John joining us tonight, since the others wanted to give you space to get settled.”

Trudy froze. “The others?”