Cowboy Fever (26 page)

Teague turned away from his kitchen counter and dove for the phone, reaching it an instant before Troy. They'd raced to answer the phone since high school, when Troy would tease Teague about the girls that called.

“'Lo?” Teague tucked the phone between his shoulder and his chin while he finished the sandwich he'd been making for Troy. Slicing it in quarters, he handed it to his brother and waved him away.

“Teague. 'Fraid I've got bad news.”

“Sheriff?”

“I just got in, and it seems Mitch Skelton was down here this morning. He's decided to press charges against your brother.”

“Shit.”

“Look, I'm sorry,” Woodell said. “From what they said, the guy was acting pretty weird. Kind of shaky and desperate, I guess. I'm sure this won't amount to anything, but he's a citizen of this county, and I've got a duty to pursue it.”

“Right.”

“You know where Troy is?” the sheriff asked.

“No. Sorry.” He glanced over at the table where Troy was eating his sandwich and crossed his fingers.

“So he's not home?”

“Nope.”

“I need some cooperation here, Teague,” the sheriff said.

“What, so you can arrest my…” Teague glanced over at his brother and lowered his voice. “Look, you know he didn't do this. Matter of fact, Skelton's daughter has papers that prove the guy's planning to defraud his insurance company. She hasn't been there?”

“Haven't seen her.”

“Damn.” Teague took a deep breath. He could feel the rage spiraling inside him, building on itself. Why hadn't Courtney been to the sheriff yet? She'd been eager enough to go see about the job with Jodi's mother. Teague figured she'd have wrapped that up and made it to the sheriff's by now—but she hadn't followed through. He should have hung onto those papers, or made copies in case she changed her mind.

“Teague?”

“What?”

“I need to find your brother.” Woodell sighed. “I'd like to take care of this myself, before one of the deputies takes it on. If you see him, can you bring him in?”

“Sure.” Teague clicked the phone shut and strode over to the table. Grabbing his hat from the back of a chair, he shoved it on and headed for the door.

Troy watched, wide-eyed. “Where you going? Aren't you gonna eat your sandwich?”

“Later,” Teague said. “I've got something to take care of first.”

He'd take care of it, all right. He'd take care of Skelton. That's what he'd do.

***

Teague slid the truck to a halt in front of the massive Skelton mansion, leaving muddy streaks on the pristine blacktopped driveway. Slamming the truck door behind him, he stalked up to the house, rang the bell, and waited for an answer.

He knew he should use his time on the doorstep to cool down, but he stoked his anger instead, picturing Troy's puzzlement over his knapsack, remembering how the man had angled to get Teague's money and practically offered Courtney for sale.

Staring at the door, he strained to hear if anyone was approaching. There were no footsteps, no sounds at all. He reached out and turned the knob.

The door swung open.

He stepped inside and scanned the vast interior. The place seemed to be empty, but maybe Skelton was in his study where they'd met before. Heading down the hall, Teague pushed the door open.

Bingo. The guy was sitting behind his desk, shuffling through some papers. When Teague entered, he looked up, lifting his hands to his chest like Peter Rabbit caught in Mr. McGregor's garden.

Striding over to the desk, Teague rested his fists on it so he could loom over Skelton in the most threatening manner possible. Skelton shuffled the papers in front of him, trying to hide them under some folders. Teague recognized them as the ones Courtney had shown him. The bill of sale and the insurance papers. He snatched up the bill of sale.

“Well, look at this,” he said. “Thousand-dollar horses. I guess this is the one you should have shredded.”

He folded the paper deliberately and shoved it in his back pocket. “I know what you're up to, Skelton. You need to pick up that phone and call the sheriff.” He pointed at a cordless handset that rested on one corner of the desk. “Tell him you've changed your mind about charging my brother with arson.”

“Why would I do that?” Skelton said. He'd recovered himself somewhat, and managed to meet Teague's eyes, but his effort at an innocent stare wasn't convincing. “We both know your brother has problems.”

“My brother has Down syndrome, buddy.
You
have problems.”

“I certainly do. That fire killed my valuable horses. Now I know your brother probably didn't realize what he was doing…”

“Your horses weren't all that valuable, and my brother knows enough not to play with matches. He didn't start that fire, and you know it.” He grabbed the phone and shoved it toward Skelton. “Call off the sheriff.”

Skelton met his eyes with a challenging stare. “I have proof your brother set that fire. Back off, or I'll see to it he's sent away for a long time. People like him should be put away anyway, where the rest of us don't have deal with the pathetic consequences of inbreeding and substance abuse.”

A black coil of rage spun in Teague's chest, whirling out of control. Stalking around the desk, he grabbed the front of Skelton's shirt, hauling him out of his chair. “You're the one who should be put away, Skelton. In Rawlins, at the state prison.” He gave the man a shake. “And you'll go there, if I have anything to say about it.”

“Get your hands off me,” Skelton squeaked.

Teague hauled him up to face level, letting the man dangle with his feet barely touching the floor.

“You
bastard
.” He shook him again. “What's your game, Skelton? You need money? Is that why you did it? You're not what you pretend to be, are you? You're a fake. A fraud.”

Skelton squeaked, his head bobbling on his skinny neck.

“I—I don't know what you're talking about,” he babbled. “Your brother—I was trying to help him. I gave him a job.”

“You gave him a job knowing damn well what you were going to do,” Teague said. “You wanted my ten thousand awfully bad, mister. And now your barn burns down, and you're falsifying insurance papers. You set that fire yourself.”

Disgusted, he shoved Skelton away.

He'd figured the guy would land in the chair, but it skidded away on impact and Skelton pitched backward, his arms flailing as he slammed into the window behind the desk. The back of his head struck the glass with an audible
thunk
and a network of cracks spread out from the impact like a spider web.

Skelton fell to the floor along with a hundred shards of glass, a streak of blood trailing behind him. Teague backed away, all the way to the door and into the hallway. He leaned against the wall and struggled to collect himself, to ease the rage swirling inside him. His heart was ticking like an overheated engine.

He hadn't meant to hurt the guy. He'd grabbed him in a rage, and then all of a sudden, he hadn't been able to stand the man's presence, so he'd pushed him away. He turned and peered into the room.

Skelton hadn't moved.

Had he killed him?

He stepped into the room and a movement in the window caught his eye. A shadowy figure stood just beyond the glass. Its face was fragmented by the cracks, but for an instant Teague thought it was his father, glowering at him from the dark garden.

Then he realized it was his own reflection, wearing an expression so like his father's they could have been twins.

Teague peered over the desk. Skelton's chest rose with one breath, then another. Slowly, his eyes opened and he held up one shaking hand as if to ward Teague away.

Well, he wasn't dead.

In fact, he was struggling to his feet. His confused, loose-jointed movements reminded Teague of a horror-movie zombie.

“Give me the paper.”

Teague fished the bill of sale out of his back pocket and unfolded it.

“This one? No.”

“Give it to me.”

Skelton extended a trembling hand, and Teague half-expected him to start asking for “
braaaaaaiiiins
.”

“No.”

Skelton jerked open a desk drawer and whipped out a gun, some sort of revolver. Teague put his hands up.

“Whoa,” he said, backing away. This was unexpected.

“Give me the paper,” Skelton said.

Teague backed away, his hands in the air. He wasn't about to give up the paper. It exonerated his brother. Hopefully Courtney had a copy or something, but he didn't know for sure. He looked down at the paper in his hand, then back up at Skelton's face. He wouldn't shoot. Would he?

“Hold on.” He started to unfold the paper and smooth it out, as if he was preparing to put in on the desk. Skelton's wrist relaxed, and the gun barrel's dark eye, which had been pointed directly at Teague's face, dropped.

Crumpling the paper in his hand, Teague dodged out the door and charged down the hallway. Behind him, the pistol fired and he glanced over his shoulder to see a black hole blossoming in the drywall across from the doorway.

“Shit.” He took a turn at top speed, skidding on the slick marble floor of the foyer, and flew out the door as another shot broke the silence. He hadn't run away from many things in his lifetime, but Skelton was liable to kill somebody. The man wasn't just dishonest; he was crazy too.

Teague cursed himself as he climbed into his truck and cranked the engine. He'd managed to keep himself in check for years. For years, he'd swallowed his anger, harnessed the demon that was his father's only legacy. Even back at the trailer with Cal, he'd managed to control himself.

He'd fought it as hard as he could. But today, it had won.

That reflection in the window had shown him who he really was.

***

Teague stood in the center of his kitchen and turned around in a slow circle. Every counter gleamed, every appliance sparkled, and every dish was stacked neatly in its place—but he still felt like crap. He dragged himself into the bedroom and dropped down on the side of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his head in his hands. At least he had some time to himself to figure things out. Troy had evidently gone out—probably in search of more AC/DC. Teague had better get his thinking done while he could.

The Persian-style throw rug at his feet didn't offer any answers, but he lost himself in the ornate pattern and the sound of the front door opening and closing didn't register at first.

“Whatcha doing?” said a voice from the bedroom door.

He looked up to see Jodi leaning against the jamb.

“Nothing.”

“Looks like moping to me.”

“Some of that.”

She sat down beside him, mirroring his pose. “What's the matter?”

He stared down at the floor. “I damn near killed him.”

He felt her tense as she turned to face him. “Who?”

“Skelton.”

“Oh, no. Teague.”

He sighed. “I got a call from the sheriff this morning. The guy was going to press charges. Me being the great negotiator I am, I thought I'd go talk him out of it.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. He said something about Troy—I don't even remember what it was—and next thing I knew, he was sliding down the window onto the floor.” He spread his hands, palms up, and looked down at them, mystified. “I don't even know what happened.”

“He's all right, though?”

“Damn straight. He got up and grabbed a gun. Shot at me.”

“You're kidding!”

“Nope. I hightailed it out of there, I can tell you.” He set his elbows on his thighs and dropped his head into his hands. “Dang, Jodi, I don't blame him. I was out of control.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe he deserved it.”

“No. Don't whitewash it, Jodi. I didn't have any control over myself. Not a bit. I was—I could feel my father in me.” He edged away. “Jodi, I told you, I'm not a touchy-feely, talk-it-out kind of guy. But I need to tell you, this scares me. The thing with Cal? It wasn't as easy as I made out.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I kind of figured that.”

“I had sort of a flashback. There was a moment I couldn't figure out where I was. Who I was. I thought I was twelve again, and he…” He looked down at the floor and shook his head. “And then tonight, after I knocked Skelton out, I thought I saw him in the window.”

“Who? Your father?”

“Yeah, but it was me. It's just—for a minute there—I looked just like him.”

“You're nothing like him. You know that, right?”

“I think so.” He sucked in a deep breath and took her hand. “I hope so.”

She nodded. “Teague, you're not. I'll tell you every day until you believe it.” She put her hands on his shoulders and forced him to look at her. “You're nothing like him because you don't do it for yourself. Your father did what he did to tame his own devils. That's not you, Teague.”

“It was tonight.”

“No it wasn't.” She scooted away and took his hands, ducking her head to meet his eyes. “You hit him to protect Troy. Fighting to protect the people you love is a
good
thing.”

He shook his head. “How can hitting someone be a good thing?”

He could tell she was suppressing a smile. “Depends who you're hitting. You ever hit Troy?”

“No, but…”

“No buts. Troy's frustrating. He drives you nuts. And you're patient with him, all day every day. Teague,
I
would have hit Skelton if I'd thought it would make any difference.”

“No you wouldn't. It's not a natural reaction for most people like it is for me. Your mom was right, Jodi. It's
in
me, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it.”

“Yes there is,” she said. “You can fight it. And I'll help.” She pulled him close. “That makes it two against one. We're bound to win.”

***

Your mom was right.
The words pricked at the back of Jodi's brain, reminding her that she was supposed to be thinking, not feeling. But with Teague's body pressed against hers, that was dang near impossible. She could feel tension tightening his muscles and his heart was thumping hard but slow. Something in her thrilled at the way he'd gone after Skelton to protect Troy. Maybe it was natural for a woman to be attracted to a man who would defend his family and damn the consequences.

And he'd finally confided in her. Finally told her how he felt—and that was what she'd been waiting for. Teague was so scarred by his father's issues that he couldn't see the impulse to protect his family as a strength. He was convinced it was a weakness.

He probably thought being a touchy-feely, talk-it-out kind of guy was a weakness, too, but she knew it took more strength to talk about his feelings than it had to slam Skelton into the window.

Passion and tenderness swirled and merged into a surge of love and she leaned in to brush her lips over his. The touch felt so warm and right that she repeated it, slower this time, savoring the sensation. He moved one hand to the back of her neck and slid his fingers up into her hair, drawing her closer while he deepened the kiss and slid his tongue between her lips.

The touch of his tongue was like an electric shock. Her whole body came alive and her chest seemed to swell with the effort to hold all the love she felt for him. She took his head in both hands and angled her own, trying to put every atom of love in her being into one kiss.

She'd never let go completely like this. When he'd confided in her, he'd broken down the last wall that stood between them and now they were truly one. As they rolled back onto the mattress, the kiss intensified and his hands moved down to her shoulders and then to her waist. He slid them back to cup her hips and pull her against him, and again his touch ignited her. She felt an urgency she couldn't control as she tore his shirt open, popping all the snaps in quick succession, and ran her hands over his skin.

“Jodi, wait.”

She didn't want to wait, but when he quickly rose and closed the door, she realized it was a good thing one of them had a brain. Hers seemed to have vaporized the moment he'd kissed her.

Teague left a trail of cast-off clothing on his way back to the bed, and by the time he rejoined her he had nothing left on but a pair of boxer briefs that left almost nothing to the imagination. She pulled him toward her, running her hands down his back as he wrestled with her T-shirt, finally taking her hands and holding them above her head as he struggled with the shirt.

“Bossy,” she said, giving him a flirty smile.

“I'm a take-charge kind of guy,” he said.

He kissed her again, pushing her back down on the bed while his hands went to work unfastening, unzipping, and unbuttoning until she was naked except for a thin pair of white lace panties.

***

Teague looked down at Jodi, lying on his bed naked with her blonde hair fanned out across the comforter and her hips spanned by the slightest scrap of lace. He couldn't believe his own luck. She knew him, inside and out, all his flaws and all his secrets, and it seemed like she loved him even more. He wasn't going to let her go this time. Not ever again.

He kissed the angle of her jaw, knowing the brush of his lips would make her quiver and moan, and then moved down her neck, running his lips over the pale perfection of it. Taking her hand, he drew her arm away from her body and kissed his way down her side while his other hand moved down to stroke her breast.

She sucked in a quick breath as his palm brushed her nipple, arching her back, and he shifted to swirl his tongue around it before taking it in his mouth and sucking gently while his fingers toyed with its twin. Her hands stroked his hair, then tugged him closer as she closed her eyes and threw her head back.

The unmistakable surrender in the gesture stirred something deep inside him and he upped the intensity, tormenting her sensitive nipples one after the other until the pale skin around them flushed and warmed. Moving his lips down her body, he kissed each delicate rib while he stroked one finger along the edge of her panties. She bit her lip and gasped, clutching at his hand.

He shoved the shred of lace aside as she opened her eyes and lifted her hips, offering herself and opening to him. She buried her fingers in his hair and pushed him lower.

“Who's bossy now?” he murmured.

***

“Me,” she said, tugging him closer until he gave her what she wanted, slipping his tongue between the soft folds and licking the slick, hot heart of her. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to her need as he probed deeper, his tongue seeking and finding all her secrets.

How did he know what she wanted? It seemed like he knew her body better than she knew it herself. The boundaries between them blurred and disappeared as he used his fingers and his tongue to untether her from reality. She was weightless, boneless, and nothing existed but this moment as she arched and gasped and was carried away on an overwhelming wave of love.

The first thing she knew when she surfaced was his arms around her, his square, muscular chest supporting her head, and his breath rising and falling in rhythm with her own. Rolling to face him, she met his eyes and wondered how long she'd been lying there. His eyes fixed on her and focused; she'd interrupted a thousand-yard stare.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Everything.” His lips tilted in self-mockery. “It's kind of a new experience.” He brushed her lips with a quick kiss, as if he couldn't help himself, and held her a little tighter. “Mostly, I try not to think about things, but it's like talking about it opened a door.”

“Is that a good thing?”

His gaze fixed on some distant point again. “I don't know. It's the door to a really messy closet. I'm just worried everything's going to fall out.”

“I'll help you clean it up,” she said. “Meanwhile, stop thinking for a while.” She threw one leg over his hips, rolled him over, and hiked herself up to straddle him, her hands on his chest. “I'll help.”

***

Teague looked up at her and realized not everything in that closet had been bad. He was freer to feel in every way, and it was as if his love for Jodi had doubled. He closed his eyes as she rocked herself against him, running her hands over his chest and setting every nerve in his body on high alert.

He held her hips and lifted her, and she reached down and held him as she lowered herself slowly, then tensed her thighs and rose again, lowered herself and rose, carrying them both away with a deliberate rhythm that let them savor every shred of sensation.

Setting her hands on the bed behind her, she leaned back and lifted her hips. He'd thought he couldn't get any more turned on, but he'd been wrong. Arching his back, he drove into her, watching his cock disappear inside her cleft. Groaning, he clenched his abs and sat up to reach around her and support her back. She lifted her hips and her breasts nearly brushed his face. He licked at her nipple as she pushed back, then slid home again, quickening her pace until she slammed down one last time and clenched around him, shivers rippling over her body. He held her tight and tensed, pulsing into her one more time as the sight, sense, and scent of her overwhelmed him.