Texas Tangle Page 4

  Slowly tilting her head, she watched him sleep. The straight black brows that had drawn together when he’d questioned her about the house were now relaxed. His eyes were closed, his dark lashes resting on angular cheeks. A heavy early-morning stubble covered his sharp jaw. In the barn he’d been impressive, but here, with them both in bed, he seemed bigger. More imposing.

  Maybe it was an illusion, a figment of imagination because she was nearly naked.

  Her confidence returning, she splayed her hand on his belly and waited to see if he’d react in some way. His chest rose and fell in the same slow pattern he’d had when she’d first woken up; his eyes stayed closed.

  On its own volition, her hand roamed up over the taut skin of his chest where his hair thickened. Her thumb brushed over one of his nipples that beaded under her touch. She abandoned the exploration of his chest and moved lower, stopping only when the tips of her fingers brushed the satiny soft skin at the head of his cock. Slowly releasing her breath, she closed her fingers around his shaft. Dear Lord, if the man was primed and ready while he was asleep, what would he be like wide awake?

  She started to pull back, but his hand circled her wrist. Her gaze shot up to find his lids only half covering his dark pupils.

  “Don’t stop now, Nik.”

  His quiet rumble settled in her chest, sent a vibration clear down to her pussy until his words penetrated her still sleepy brain. Oh, God, what was she doing? If he’d felt her up while she was sleeping the way she had, she’d accuse him of sexual assault. She freed her hand, sliding from beneath the sheet and grabbing the clothes scattered on the floor.

  “Sorry. I’ve gotta—” She held her pants against her backside, clutched her T-shirt to her breasts and made a mad dash into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God. Could she be more of a spazzed-out perv?

  Less than two seconds later, Dillon rapped on the door. “Nik? You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, I just have to…I’ll be right out.” With a groan she slumped onto the toilet. Great, now either he thinks you’re so desperate you can only get a guy when he’s sleeping, or that you’re a total slut.

  Wait a minute. She lifted her head and stared at the door. How did she know he hadn’t felt her up while she was sleeping? Who would have been there to stop him from copping a feel or two? Or six?

  Yeah, right. Dillon Barnett would have drawn the line at taking advantage of a sleeping woman. Not a chance would he lay a finger on a woman without her permission.

  “Nik?” His voice was soft through the door. “Don’t put your clothes on until we’ve had a chance to wash ’em, okay?” He paused. “They sorta still smell like the barn.”

  She frowned and lifted her clothes to her face, then grimaced as the stench hit her. Gak. She probably didn’t smell much better. A quick sniff under her arms confirmed her suspicions. Real sexy there, Nik. It was a wonder he hadn’t left her to sleep on the couch instead of taking the chance of ruining his mattress and linen for life. And here she’d been worried about morning breath.

  “I’m leaving a clean shirt and a pair of sweats for you to wear just outside the door,” Dillon continued without waiting for her to answer. “There’s a new toothbrush in the drawer on the right you can use. There should be clean towels in the cupboard over the toilet if you want to take a shower.”

  Oh man, why hadn’t she dated him in high school instead of Wade? Because Wade had asked and Dillon hadn’t. Then thanks to that goddamned broken condom, she’d discovered she was pregnant just as she had been considering breaking up with Wade. “Thanks, Dillon. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  He rapped on the door twice. “Take your time. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

  Seconds later, she heard the bedroom door close.

  Brett snorted when he rotated the handle on Dillon’s front door. How many times did he have to remind him to lock the damned thing? Apparently once more. Didn’t he realize how many nutjobs were out there? Especially after Nikki’s place had been cleaned out.

  He stepped from the damned Texas heat into the cool foyer as Dillon appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a wrinkled work tee along with a pair of blue jeans, the top button undone. From the way his dark hair stood up on end on one side and was flat on the other, he’d just gotten out of bed.

  “Hey Dill, you wanna come down and watch this?”

  Once Dillon stood beside him, Brett made a show of closing the door and flipping the deadbolt. “See? Up means unlocked, sideways means locked. Always make sure you keep it locked when you’re here. And when you leave, what do you do?”

  Dillon’s snort filled the foyer. “You’re sounding more and more like Dad every day.”

  “I can’t think of a better compliment.” A pity Dillon didn’t have the cautious nature of his father. Then again Dillon wasn’t responsible for protecting a family. Oh, Dillon would pound the shit out of anyone who threatened his sister. But as a landscaper he was more used to working with plants than with deadbeats who would shoot you as soon as look at you.

  Dillon padded down the hall, calling over his shoulder, “You want some breakfast?”

  “As long as it comes with coffee.” Having been up half the night combing through Tiny’s notes and calling in favors with the county’s pawn shops, his body craved caffeine. He followed Dillon into the kitchen and leaned against the counter as his friend dug around in the fridge.

  Dillon pulled out the carton of eggs before glancing at him. “So you find anything out about Nik’s scumball brother?”

  “Not much. Tiny let me listen in to his call to her parents, just in case Phil shows up at their place.” Brett leaned against the counter. “Man, they are a piece of work. Her mom didn’t once ask if Nik was all right, just railed about how everyone misunderstood her little boy.”

  Dillon’s snort echoed the disgust he felt at that. “So what happens now?”

  “We’ve got an alert out on him, but basically we’re in wait-and-see mode.” He waited for Dillon’s nod. “I need to ask Nikki if she has a list of serial numbers for things like the DVD or television or anything else Phil took. Those would be a big help tracking things with the pawn shops.”

  “You can ask her when she comes down.” Dillon broke an egg into the frying pan.

  “You might want to make sure you’re real gentle with her, okay? Wade could be a piece of work, you know what I mean? She’s probably still dealing with baggage from all his shit.”

  A hardness Brett rarely saw filled Dillon’s eyes, and the eggshell crumbled in Dillon’s fist. “He hit her?”

  “No. I almost wish he had, just once, because then I could have hauled him off to jail. Look, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but old lady Peterson sent us out there a couple times complaining she could hear Wade yelling and throwing things clear down at her place.”

  It hadn’t happened a lot but enough that he’d stopped waiting for the calls and made it a habit to drop in unannounced. He’d told himself it was just to make sure Nikki was all right. He’d told himself that a lot. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax his hands. “I walked in on them one day while he was calling her all sorts of names, told her she was useless and stupid.” Dillon swore. “Sometimes words can leave scars that hurt worse than any bruise.”

  The good Lord knew he had plenty of scars both inside and out to prove it, thanks to his father.

  “I never figured out why she didn’t leave him sooner.”

  “If her parents’ reaction to what happened tonight was typical, she probably felt she had nowhere to go. You hear you’re stupid and no one else will want you often enough times, you start to believe it.” Look how long it had taken for the Barnetts to convince him his father was wrong. “Especially if it’s someone you care for. Someone you respect.”

  Or someone you’re told you’re supposed to respect. Someone you’re told you’re supposed to love. Who knows where he’d be now if Dillon’s parent
s hadn’t taken him in. Probably living in the bottom of a bottle, just like his old man. Or in jail for murdering the bastard.

  Dillon snorted again. “Respect? Wade didn’t deserve one damned bit of respect. He was a fuckin’ trouser snake. Nikki’s better off without him.”

  “I’m not talking about Wade. Her mom was feeding her the same crap, and her dad wasn’t much better. That’s why she stayed with Wade for so long, because her parents threatened to cut her off if she divorced him. I dropped in one day when her folks were visiting. The damned fools told Nik she was a failure if she let a man like Wade get away. That she wasn’t a good wife, wasn’t woman enough, if Wade had to go to other women for satisfaction.”

  Dillon swore. “I do not get how people can treat their kids like that.”

  That’s because your parents always believed the sun revolved around their children.

  “Nik get any sleep?” He regretted the question as soon as the words were out.

  That damned smug smile of Dillon’s just widened. “Yeah. I tell you, you should have seen her while she was sleeping. It was like watching an angel.”

  Knots formed in Brett’s gut. Jealousy ripped its way from deep in his gut and up his esophagus, the rising bile burning his throat.

  “Except she’s not an angel exactly. She’s got a bit of devil in her too. This morning…hmm, yeah, just forget I mentioned it.”

  Oh Christ, it had gone further, faster between them than he’d thought. Dillon was already sleeping with her. He grabbed the carafe from the coffee maker and went through the motions of making a fresh pot. The routine, from counting out the scoops of frozen beans into the grinder to filling the pot, gave him time to regain control. And firm up his resolve to stay out of Dillon’s love life.

  Ten minutes and a good hard scrub later, Nikki stopped in the kitchen doorway. Dillon wasn’t alone. While Dillon poked at the frying pan, Brett Anderson was pouring coffee into a mug.

  It had been a common joke in school that if you wanted to find one, you hollered the other’s name, and they’d both show up. A lot of people even thought them brothers, though Dillon was dark haired and darker complexioned, compared to Brett’s strawberry blond hair and freckles. Except they weren’t brothers. Not brothers by blood anyway.

  Though both men were the same height, Dillon was longer in the leg while Brett was longer in the body. Dillon had pulled on a faded and wrinkled DB Landscaping tee, the top button of his blue jeans undone. The relaxed dress was a direct contradiction to Brett’s dun-colored uniform. Even though it looked like he’d just gotten off duty, he radiated confidence, demanded respect. Hinted of danger. Damn, there was something about a man in uniform that she found attractive.

  She couldn’t remember making a sound but two pairs of eyes, one set chocolate brown, the other sky blue, turned to her at exactly the same time.

  “Good morning, Nikki.” Brett nodded.

  He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee, then added a single spoonful of sugar. When he held it out for her, she couldn’t contain her surprise. She’d lived with Wade nine years, and he’d never remembered how she took her coffee.

  Dillon fixed her with a predatory look. “I’m fixin’ some steak and eggs. Want some?”

  To her embarrassment her stomach gave a loud rumble. Dillon chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  Feeling a blush working its way up her throat and into her cheeks, Nikki ducked her head. “I should call Mom and Dad. Let them know about Phil.”

  She didn’t miss the sideways glance Dillon gave Brett. Nor did she miss the sympathy lacing Brett’s answer. “They already know. Tiny phoned your folks last night.”

  “Oh.” Her stomach knotted imagining that conversation. Her mother had probably ranted about how everyone was out to get Phil, and how he was such a good boy who didn’t deserve the trouble the police gave him. Still, they were her parents, and since she’d promised them she’d look after Phil…“I should phone them anyway. At least to let them know where I’m staying.”

  The two men shared another long glance before Dillon slowly nodded. “You can use the phone in my office if you want privacy.”

  The half-dozen steps to the room off the kitchen he set up as an office might as well have been a mile, from the way her feet dragged with every step. Taking a deep breath to steel herself for the upcoming conversation, she lifted the receiver and dialed.

  Her father’s voice echoed down the line before it had rung twice.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  Before she could say another word, he interrupted her. “What type of woman sets the police on her own brother? I’m disappointed in you, Nicole.”

  When was he not?

  “Nicole?” Her mother came on the line. “Where are you staying? This isn’t your number.”

  “I stayed with a friend last night, Mom.” Since I didn’t have a bed left to sleep on.

  “You’re not shacked up with some man, are you?” Without waiting for Nikki to answer, her mother quoted scripture about the evils of fornication outside of marriage. “Don’t you know the shame you brought upon this family already?”

  How could she forget? Her mother mentioned it in every conversation they’d had since she’d told them she was pregnant. Her divorce from Wade had only cemented her mother’s opinion.

  The scent of eggs and steak drifted in from the kitchen. When she’d been upstairs, her stomach had growled in anticipation. Now it threatened to heave the way it often did during a conversation with her parents.

  “Why did you set the police on your brother?” her father interrupted, repeating his earlier question. Her mother must have been listening in on an extension. Wonderful. They were tag-teaming her. “You should never have involved them in a family matter.”

  “I didn’t know Phil had been involved when I discovered I’d been robbed.” How had she become the bad guy in this? She was the one who had lost everything. “I thought someone else had done it.”

  “Of course it was someone else,” her mother insisted. “Now you call those awful police and tell them to look for the real thieves instead of targeting poor Phil.”

  Poor Phil. How many times had she heard that refrain? “Phil is supposed to check in with his parole officer on Monday, so hopefully we’ll know more then.”

  A soft knock had her swiveling in her seat to find Dillon standing at the doorway, a sympathetic look on his face.

  “You want me to talk to them?” he asked quietly.

  His quiet unwavering support eased the knots forming in her stomach. How strange that a neighbor, a friend, could be more supportive than her own family. Not just last night and this morning, but this whole year. Helping out with the fences and all the myriad other ways he’d been there when she needed a hand. Brett had been the same. Where her parents offered little else than constant judgment, both men were there, willing to help out without being asked.

  She shook her head and turned her attention back to the phone. “Mom, Dad, I have to go. I’ll call you when I hear more, all right?”

  “Fine,” her mother answered, “but I want you to phone me as soon as you hear from Phil and let me know he’s all right. And you phone from your own place, you hear? I don’t want to hear any gossip about you whoring around again.”

  All right, so maybe her stomach wasn’t quite settled after all. She pressed a hand against her belly as she hung up.

  Dillon pulled her into his arms. “Hey, you okay?”

  No. But she would be. Especially with friends like him and Brett supporting her. “I’m fine.”

  His eyes searched her face. “They give you grief because I called the cops on Phil?”

  She shook her head.

  He hmmed, his tone telling her he didn’t believe her, but thankfully he didn’t call her on it. “You still up for breakfast?”

  Once she’d nodded, he led her back to the kitchen and seated her on the bench at the table.

  Brett sat on the chair opposite her. “
You all right?”

  “Fine.” It was starting to become her mantra. Maybe if she said it enough, she’d start to believe it.

  His examination of her was just as thorough as Dillon’s. “Why don’t you let me handle calling them from here on in? I can do it in an official capacity.”

  “Thanks, but they’re my parents. I can deal with them.”

  “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should have to,” Dillon noted. “Not if they’re going to give you grief because of me.”

  He plated the food and placed it in front of her, his other hand brushing the tops of hers. He set up two more plates and set them down, one beside her and one in front of Brett. “Dig in, buddy.”

  The whole time they were eating, Dillon found ways to touch her. He slid beside her on the bench, close enough that his thigh touched hers. Their hands grazed again when they both reached for the salt shaker at the same time. When he refilled her coffee, she couldn’t help notice how he’d drawn out releasing the mug, dragging his fingers over hers. When he returned to sit beside her, his bare foot slid over her arch. When he reached for the steak sauce, his other hand splayed over the small of her back, creeping under the fabric.

  By the time she’d finished her food, every inch of her body was aware of him. Aware of the damp tendrils of dark hair tucked behind the curve of his ear betraying that he’d found someplace else to shower, and the clean scent of his soap. Especially aware of the rough calluses of his hands as they rasped over her skin. She couldn’t help but imagine the bulging strength of his forearms holding him over her. His thick thigh muscles flexing between her legs as she wrapped herself around him, pulling him deep into her.

  The fantasy shattered when Brett stood. If his expression had been sympathetic when she’d come out of Dillon’s office, now he looked more relaxed. Except that while his lips smiled, the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Maybe it was a mask he’d learned to wear for his job, a way to conceal his emotions. But what would he need to conceal from her?