Big Bad John (Bigger in Texas Series) (5 page)

“Our employees?” Jefferson sighed. “You don’t read my emails at all do you?”

“I don’t read the
business
emails,” she amended. “Because they’re none of my business. I read the personal ones. Exactly how many employees do you have?”

“Do
we
have, Trudy. We. The G&J is split three ways. When you refused the checks I was sending you, we started putting your earnings into an account at the bank in town, which you’d know if you paid attention. You could probably buy a closet sized condo in California…land if you stayed here. As for employees, there are three on site. A few hotshots handle the website from Austin, but here, Glory oversees the honey production, and Diego and Manly handle whatever John or I need doing. Usually keeping the mixers running, bottling and making deliveries to farmer’s markets. That kind of thing.”

She didn’t want to think about that money. She hadn’t earned it. It wasn’t hers. “Manly?”

Jefferson winked. “He’s our newest recruit. Been here for about six months to help us with the increased demand. When he first came on, Glory said he reminded her of that guy from Little House on the Prairie.  Said John shouldn’t be the only one who had a nickname.”

“Do they live here?”

Her brother gestured toward the window. “They stay out at the old bunkhouse. We fixed it up into mini-apartments. The walls are thin but no one’s complained, since they live there rent free.”

Trudy bit her lip. The bunkhouse. “What about John. Does he still live there?” Or would he be here now? Under the same roof while she slept, close enough to drive her crazy.

“Big Bad?” Jefferson laughed. “Not a chance in hell. The man likes his privacy so much he makes me look needy. He was in my old room for a few years once I moved into Dad’s, but he built his own little lean-to on the property. Far enough away from the rest of us to suit him.”

Why was she disappointed? She should feel relieved. “Oh.”

“A lot has changed since the last time you were home, little sister.” Her brother’s expression sobered. “It’s really great to see you here, Trudy. It’s been too long.”

She started backing toward the door. “I know. I’m sorry for that. I’ll…I’ll go and get started on dinner, okay?”

Trudy left the bedroom before he could respond. Her father’s old room. The one she used to sneak into to grab a book only to find him sitting alone, staring out the window as if looking for something. Or someone.

Her mother.

Had he looked for Trudy after she left? Or had he known she had too much of Jennifer Estevez-Adams in her…that she wouldn’t come back? It wasn’t a question she wanted the answer to because she knew the guilt would break her heart.

Two weeks, she told herself. She could do this for two weeks. Even if she wanted to leave now, after her intensely physical reaction to seeing John again and all the memories that came with this house, she couldn’t.

She had to stop her brother from making the biggest mistake of his life.

Dinner was…odd. Trudy’s two worlds colliding surreally over thick steaks and baked potatoes.

John had helped her brother down the stairs at his insistence, and brought him another chair for his leg to rest on so he could join them. Mostly so he could flirt, she was sure.

She glanced over at Caroline. The shower and cooler air inside the house seemed to have revitalized her, though Trudy couldn’t help but notice she was avoiding eye contact with Jefferson. She’d expected teasing laced with sexual innuendo from her irrepressible friend.

Instead, Caroline focused her irresistible smile and unwavering gaze on John, peppering him with questions about the G&J—the operation, the website, their marketing strategy. Men had always fallen all over themselves to get Caroline’s undivided attention, but John seemed surprisingly unaffected. His answers were short and polite, his manner friendly but not overly so. It was hard to believe that anyone could resist that sunny California beauty, even harder to believe anyone could resist John. Yet nothing they said, nothing in their body language, indicated interest on either side.

Thank God.

Trudy’s gaze kept returning to his mouth. The way his white teeth bit into the meat with gusto, his tongue sneaking out to lick a drop of sauce off his lower lip before he answered another question. His jaw, the strong neck she could see above the collar of his crisp blue button down shirt.

She forcibly pushed down her desires, as well as her worries about John and Caroline connecting and making genetically perfect babies, and tried to pay attention to the conversation at hand.

The business. That was what they were talking about.
Focus, Trudy.

When she did, she was surprised to find herself fascinated. She’d had no idea they’d done so much to the old horse and cattle ranch. They’d sold their own livestock years ago, granting grazing rights to a neighbor while they focused on other things. Pure honey and a honey-and-jalapeno-infused barbecue sauce.  She fiddled with the label as they talked, trying not to think about who had chosen the name of their product.

Troublemaker.

There was an image of flaming lips below the name and the G&J brand in the corner. Apparently it had gained popularity with friends they knew on the barbecue circuit and now people were ordering it online in droves.  She really should have read those emails.

Obviously her home was in no financial danger. Jefferson and John had managed to make some seriously profitable lemonade out of their La Grange lemon. So money wasn’t the reason her brother was planning to head to Hollywood.

Then why?

She hoped it wasn’t the same reason she’d had. The one that had seemed more important than anything else, even her music. The one that had caused so much friction between her and her father before she left home. That quest would bring Jefferson nothing but heartache.

Caroline’s phone rang and Trudy could have sworn she saw her shoulders drop in relief. “I have to take this. I don’t think I could eat another bite anyway, so don’t wait on me.”

Trudy heard her light footsteps as she raced up the stairs and the Lana Del Rey song she used as her ringtone cut off mid-chorus. She was going to have to corner Caroline later and make sure her meeting with Jefferson was as innocent as he’d claimed, because she knew her friend too well.

She was running away.

“Damn.” Jefferson grumbled when she disappeared, pushing his plate away with a groan. “Well now what are we going to talk about?”

Trudy’s words came out in a rush before she knew she was going to say them. “We could talk about the label that wants to sign me and make me an opening act for the ‘Women Rock The World Tour’.”

Jefferson stared at her dumbly for a moment, before letting go with a loud exclamation of delight. “About damn time,” he enthused. “What do you think about that, Big John? Our Trudy is going to be a superstar.”

She forced herself to glance at John, who’d gone suddenly and completely still.

“It’s good,” was all he said before looking down at his plate and stabbing another piece of steak forcefully.

“Good?” Jefferson scoffed. “It’s fucking great. How did it happen?”

She shrugged, forcing herself not to throw her glass of water in John’s face and demand a bigger reaction. “They saw me online. I think some of my fans put a petition together and when they listened to my songs, they liked what they heard. They want to add a few new songs to my album, rework what I have in their studio and put a band together to tour with me. I can hardly believe it myself. After I turned thirty I started thinking it would never happen.”

“Never say never.” her brother reached for her shoulder and shook it playfully. “Remember you’re old now, so don’t go throwing out your hip on stage.”

She pursed her lips and raised one eyebrow. “I’m not the one with a broken leg, brother dear. Or the one who got it just to be on a reality show about falling.”

He sighed in a long-suffering manner and glared at John. “He told you, huh? I knew that he would. But now is not the time for a lecture. You’re celebrating and, as you mentioned, my leg is broken. I think I’m done for the night. The medicine is kicking in, making me loopy but my leg is still throbbing. Need to get back to bed. A little help, John?”

John met Trudy’s knowing gaze and his lips quirked at Jefferson’s talented side-step, though there was something in his eyes that still made her stomach knot. “Yes, sir. But don’t think I’m carrying your ass back down again tonight.”

Jefferson growled. “I don’t need anyone to carry me anywhere. I just need help getting on my damn feet. Foot. Fuck.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Trudy scolded, standing to gather the dishes. “Everybody needs help at some point in their lives. Trouble is, you aren’t used to it being you.”

“I won’t get used to it, either,” he muttered, gripping John’s large forearms as he hefted himself up. “This is the last time I plan on being helpless, so enjoy it while you can.”

John’s gravelly laugh made her shiver. “We are, buddy. Trust me, we are.”

“Congratulations, Trudy.” Jefferson let go of John long enough to wrap one hand around her neck and press a kiss to her temple. “I’ll want to hear every detail tomorrow. I can’t believe you waited so long to tell us the news.”

With her hands full of dishes, she grinned wryly at him. This from the man who was still avoiding talking about his upcoming brush with fame. Who hadn’t even sent her an email to tell her he was thinking about it. “Thanks,” was all she said.

When they were gone, heavy boots above her moving slowly and steadily toward her father’s old room, Trudy made short work of the dishes, carefully wrapping up the leftovers and wiping down the countertops.

She used to live in this kitchen, watching their housekeeper Margery clean and cook, always cheerfully humming an old hymn or country song, always encouraging Trudy to play along with her guitar.

The warm water was running over her hands and she turned them over, studying the calluses on her fingertips that came from playing for so long. She’d left her guitar behind almost defiantly, knowing she would never be away from it for long. Whether she had finally found success in her industry or not, it still brought her joy. Even if they’d never called and she knew she’d be spending the rest of her life in her living room, singing to no one but the unappreciative bamboo sitting silent in a pot on her coffee table, she still wouldn’t give it up. She’d come to terms with that a long time ago. Music was her comfort. Margery used to tell her it was a gift from the angels and had made her promise never to turn her back on the blessing, whether she sang in church or on a brightly lit stage.

Trudy smiled and hummed one of her older songs under her breath, promising herself she would visit the old woman tomorrow.

A low male sound of appreciation caused her to look up at the reflective surface of the window. John stood behind her. How had he gotten that close without her noticing?

“I’ve missed hearing that in person,” he murmured. “You’ve always had such a beautiful voice. A voice like that should be shared.”

Oh God. Between one breath and the next—that quickly—Trudy’s body reacted to the intimate tone. Her stomach fluttered and her bones seemed to melt, forcing her to lean against the large, stainless steel sink to keep upright. Watching him. “Thank you.”

He moved closer and reached around her body to grip one of her hands, still under the running water. His fingers twined with hers. “I didn’t mean for you to do this. You cooked, the least I can do is clean up after.”

She could hardly breathe. “I didn’t mind.” The heat of his body was burning her skin, the thin straps of her lavender tank top tight over her shoulders as she tensed. Waiting. Wondering what would happen next. “Is Jefferson settled in?”

John’s other hand came up to trace feather light circles on her shoulder, down the outside of her arm. His hands were rough from years of manual labor, making her feel soft and feminine. Everywhere he touched her was charged. Electric.

It shouldn’t still be like this. Intense. Intimate. They were strangers now. Why was her reaction so strong?

“John, we should talk about how we’re going to stop him from—”

“We have plenty of time for that. I don’t want to talk about your brother, Trouble.” His fingers tightened on her skin. “Or your news, as good as it is. And neither do you.”

“I don’t?”

“No,” he assured her, his voice low and rough. “I should let you get settled in, should wait, but you’ve been watching me all night, Trudy. Made it damn near impossible to keep track of what your fast-talking friend was saying. You’ve been thinking about kissing me again. Been wondering if, after all this time, there would still be sparks. If it would be as good as you remember.”

Trudy was a sucker for a confident man. This confident man in particular. But she couldn’t let her guard down. Not here. Not now.

She turned, her body brushing against his as she moved to face him. His cheeks were flushed, his blue eyes dark and seductive.

How was she supposed to think when he looked at her that way?

“And you’ve been spending too much time in the sticks,
Big
John.” She lifted her chin and raised her eyebrow in what she hoped was a condescending expression. “You don’t know what I’m thinking. Don’t know me. You haven’t seen me or talked to me in over ten years. What makes you think I have any desire to kiss you? That I’m not already taken?”

He gripped her waist with his hands and lifted her until she was sitting precariously on the edge of the sink, then took one more step until he was standing between her legs. “I know you better than you think I do,” he whispered. “Better than your fans. But if I’m off base, if it’s just me feeling this, then do me a favor…prove me wrong.”

Her arms hovered uncertainly in the air with the first teasing brush of his lips against hers. After his words, she’d expected an all-out assault. A demand. This was something different. His tongue stroked her upper lip and then he smiled. His teeth scraped her lower lip lightly…and then he withdrew.