Texas Outlaws: Jesse

Dust filled his mouth and pain gripped every nerve in his already aching body. The buzzer sounded and voices echoed, but he was too fixated on catching his breath to notice the chaos that suddenly surrounded him. He shut his eyes as his heart pounded in his rib cage.

Come on, buddy. You got this. Just breathe.

In and out. In. Out. In—

“Jesse? Ohmigod! Are you all right? Is he all right?”

Her desperate voice slid into his ears and stalled his heart. His eyes snapped open and sure enough, he found himself staring into a gaze as pale and blue as a clear Texas sky at high noon.

And just as scorching.

Heat swamped him and for a split second, he found himself sucked back to the past, to those long, endless days at Lost Gun High School.

He’d been at the bottom of the food chain back then, the son of the town’s most notorious criminal, and no one had ever let him forget it. The teachers had stared at him with pity-filled gazes. The other boys had treated him like a leper. And the girls... They’d looked at him as if he were a bona fide rock star. The bad boy who was going to save them from the monotony of their map-dot existence.

Every girl, that is, except for Gracie Stone.

She’d been a rock star in her own right. Buck wild and reckless. Constantly defying her strict adoptive parents and pushing them to the limits. They’d wanted a goody-goody daughter befitting the town’s mayor and first lady, and Gracie had wanted to break out of the neat little box she’d been forced into after the tragic death of her real parents.

They’d both been seniors when they’d crossed paths at a party. It had been lust at first sight. They’d had three scorching weeks together before they’d graduated and she’d ditched him via voice mail.

We just don’t belong together.

For all her wicked ways, she was still the mayor’s daughter, and he was the son of the town’s most hated man. Water and oil. And everyone knew the two didn’t mix.

Not then, and certainly not now.

He tried to remember that all-important fact as he focused on the sweet-smelling woman leaning over him.

She looked so different compared to the wild and wicked girl who lived and breathed in his memories. She’d traded in too much makeup and too little clothes for a more conservative look. She wore a navy skirt and a white silk shell tucked in at the waist. Her long blond hair had been pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail. Long thick lashes fringed her pale blue eyes. Her lips were full and pink and luscious.

Different, yet his gut ached just the same.

He stiffened and his mouth pressed into a tight line. “Civilians aren’t allowed in the arena.” He pushed himself to his feet, desperate to ignore the soft pink-tipped fingers on his arm. “Not without boots.” Her touch burned through the material of his Western shirt and sent a fizzle of electricity up his arm. “And jeans,” he blurted. “And a long-sleeve shirt, for Chrissake.” Damn, but why did she have to keep touching him like that? “You’re breaking about a dozen different rules.”

“I’m sorry. You just hit the ground so hard and I thought you were hurt and...” Her words trailed off and she let her hand fall away.

He ignored the whisper of disappointment and concentrated on the anger roiling inside him. “You almost got me killed.” That was what he said. But the only thing rolling over and over in his mind was that she’d put herself in danger by climbing over the railing with a mean sumbitch bull on the loose.

He pushed away the last thought because no way—no friggin’ way—did Jesse care one way or the other when it came to Gracie Stone. He was over her.

Finished.

Done.

He held tight to the notion and focused on the fact that she’d ruined a perfectly good training session. “You don’t yell at a man when he’s in the middle of a ride. It’s distracting. I damn near broke my neck.” He dusted off his pants and reached for his hat a few feet away. “If you’re looking for City Hall—” he shook off the dirt and parked the worn Stetson on top of his head “—I think you’re way off the mark.”

“Actually, I was looking for you.” Unease flitted across her face as if she wasn’t half as sure of herself as she pretended to be. She licked her pink lips and he tried not to follow the motion with his eyes. “I need to talk to you.”

He had half a mind to tell her to kick her stilettos into high gear and start walking. He was smack-dab in the middle of a demonstration for a prospective buyer who’d flown in yesterday to purchase the black bull currently snorting in a nearby holding pen.

Because Jesse was selling his livestock and moving on.

Finally.

With the winnings and endorsements from his first championship last year, he’d been able to put in an offer for a three-hundred-acre spread just outside of Austin, complete with a top-notch practice arena. The seller had accepted and now it was just a matter of signing the papers and transferring the money.

“Yo, Jesse.” David Burns, the buyer interested in his stock, signaled him from the sidelines and Jesse held up a hand that said hold up a minute.

David wanted to make a deal and Jesse needed to get a move on. He didn’t have time for a woman who’d ditched him twelve years ago without so much as a face-to-face.

At the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder what could be so almighty important that it had Lost Gun’s newly elected mayor slumming it a full ten miles outside the city limits.

He shrugged. “So talk.”

Her gaze shifted from the buyer to the group of cowboys working the saddle broncs in the next arena. Several of the men had shifted their attention to the duo standing center stage. “Maybe we could go someplace private.”

The words stirred all sorts of possibilities, all treacherous to his peace of mind since they involved a very naked Gracie and a sizable hard-on. But Jesse had never been one to back down from a dangerous situation.

He summoned his infamous slide-off-your-panties drawl that had earned him the coveted title of Rodeo’s Hottest Bachelor and an extra twenty thousand followers on Twitter and eyed her. “Sugar, the only place I’m going after this is straight into a hot shower.” He gave her a sly grin he wasn’t feeling at the moment and winked. “If you’re inclined to follow, then by all means, let’s go.”

Her eyes darkened and for a crazy instant, he glimpsed the old Gracie. The wild free spirit who’d stripped off her clothes and gone skinny-dipping with him their first night together.

But then the air seemed to chill and her gaze narrowed. “We’ll talk here,” she said, her voice calm and controlled. A total contradiction to the slight tremble of her bottom lip. She drew a deep breath that lifted her ample chest and wreaked havoc with his self-control. “A fax came in from the production company that filmed Famous Texas Outlaws.”

The mention of the television documentary that had nearly cost him his livelihood all those years ago was like a douse of ice water. “And?”

“They sold rights to a major affiliate who plans to air the show again and film a live ‘Where Are They Now?’ segment. They’re already running promos for it. Sheriff Hooker had to chase two fortune hunters off your place just yesterday.”

His “place” amounted to the burned-down shack and ten overgrown acres on the south end of town that he’d once shared with his father and brothers. As for the fortune hunters, well, they were out of luck. There was nothing to find.

His lawyer had been advising him to sell the property for years now, but Jesse had too many bad memories to want to profit off that sad, miserable place. Ignoring it had been better. Easier.

He eyed her. “When?”

“It’s airing next Tuesday.” She squared her shoulders, as if trying to gather her courage. “I thought you deserved fair warning after what happened the last time.”

His leg throbbed at the memory. “So that’s why you’re here?” He tamped down the sudden ache. “To give me a heads-up?”

She nodded and something softened inside him.

A crazy reaction since he knew that her sudden visit had nothing to do with any sense of loyalty to him. This was all about the town. She’d traded in her wild and wicked ways to become a model public servant like her uncle. Conservative. Responsible. Loyal.

He knew that, yet the knotted fist in his chest eased just a little anyway.

“I know you just got back yesterday,” she went on, “but I really think it would be better to cut your visit short until it’s all said and done.” She pulled her shoulders back. The motion pressed her delicious breasts against the soft fabric of her blouse. He caught a glimpse of lace beneath the thin material and he knew then that she wasn’t as conservative as she wanted everyone to think. “That would make things a lot easier.”

“For me?” He eyed her. “Or for you?”