Desert Heat (10 page)

“I’m really wrung out. I think I’ll see if I can catch a ride back to the trailer.”

Wes stood up beside her. “I’m packin’ it in, too. I’ll give you a ride home before I head back to my motel.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

As they walked toward his dark green Ford pickup, she noticed Salty Marvin leaning up against the trunk of a cottonwood tree. He watched them as they passed and she made a mental note to see if she could interview him about rodeo life in the past.

Wes opened the door of his big 250 diesel and helped her into the cab. “I don’t see how you guys do this, year after year,” Patience said as Wes fired up the motor. “All of the travel, I mean.”

“’Less you rodeo some yourself, you’ll prob’ly never really understand.”

“So, explain it to me.”

He shrugged a set of linebacker shoulders. “It’s jus’ what we do.”

She noticed the way he had begun to slur his words. She didn’t say more as they drove back to the rodeo grounds, just watched Wes gulping his beer and casting her sideways glances. There were six empties rolling around at her feet and she realized he had drunk more than she’d thought.

He shouldn’t be driving. Not until he sobered up. She decided she would make him a cup of thick black coffee when they got back to the trailer and insist he drink it before he set off for his motel.

Dallas tried not to look for her. He had made up his mind to stay away from her, but the minute he had seen her standing next to Wes, a knot had tightened in his gut.

He finished his steak and excused himself from Cy and his friends. Dumping his empty paper plate in the trash, he picked up his beer and took a long, thirst-quenching swallow. A glance at the picnic table where Patience had been sitting told him she was no longer there. Neither was Wes McCauley.

Hey, she was single and over twenty-one. She could go out with any man she wanted. But the thought of her with Wes spawned a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He glanced around to see if she might be sitting somewhere else, all the while telling himself to forget her, reminding himself she was nothing but trouble.

In the distance, he could hear western music pumping over the speakers at the edge of the picnic area, but saw no sign of Patience. He wondered if Wes’s truck was gone, too. Giving in to the urge to find her, he wandered toward a cluster of cottonwood trees near the parking lot. Up against the rough bark of one of the towering trees, Salty Marvin sat in the shadows, his brown, weathered hands forming a hand-rolled cigarette.

“If you’re lookin’ for that pretty little gal I seen you starin’ at, she left with Wes.” The knot in Dallas’s stomach turned into a ten-pound rock. “Heard someone say he was givin’ her a ride back home.”

“That so?”

“I was you, I’d make sure she got there okay.”

Dallas fixed a hard look on Salty. “What are you talking about? She’s Wes’s problem, not mine.”

“Maybe so. But Wes was drinkin’ pretty hard tonight. He gets liquored up, he don’t always listen too good when a lady says no.”

A thread of worry slipped along Dallas’s spine. He had heard stories about Wes, that sometimes the big steer wrestler had been known to press a woman a little too hard for what he wanted. Rumor was, it had happened at Roy Greenfield’s party. Dallas didn’t believe Wes would actually force a woman to have sex, but he was big and sometimes he didn’t know his own strength. He didn’t want Patience having problems with Wes.

“How long have they been gone?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes.”

Dallas started walking toward his truck. Using his own set of keys, he clicked open the door, climbed behind the steering wheel, and started the engine.

It didn’t take long to reach the rodeo grounds. He spotted Patience’s little white travel trailer hooked up to her brown Chevy pickup. Wes’s Ford sat in the shadows not far away. Dallas turned off the motor but didn’t get out of his truck.

You do this, you’re gonna make a damned fool of yourself.

But the door of his truck cracked open as if it had a mind of its own. Dallas climbed down from the seat and started walking, cussing himself all the way. When he reached the trailer, he heard voices inside. Then the lights went off and the trailer fell silent.

Sonofabitch.
He knew what was going on in there. He knew and it and it royally pissed him off.

You’ll probably think I’m old-fashioned…

Old-fashioned? Ha!
His hands balled into fists. Fine, he told himself. She wants Wes, she can have him. He started to walk away, but something just wouldn’t let him. He turned to look at the trailer. He thought he heard them talking again.

Calling himself ten kinds of a fool, Dallas strode over and banged on the door. “Patience?”

Wes’s deep voice answered. “Hey, buddy, we’re busy in here.”

Dallas swore foully. He started to turn away, even madder at himself that he was at her, when he heard the sound of glass breaking inside the trailer. Combined with the instincts screaming inside his head, he reached for the knob and jerked open the door.

A Coke bottle whizzed past his head, smashing against the door frame.

“Get out of here, Wes McCauley! And don’t you ever come back again!”

Everything happened at once.

Wes dragged Patience against him and crushed his mouth down over hers. She jabbed an elbow into his ribs and kicked him hard in the shins.

“Shit!” Wes swore, and a red haze of fury dropped over Dallas, unlike anything he had known.

“You son of a bitch!” He caught the front of Wes’s shirt and spun him around, dragged him toward the door, and heaved him down the stairs. Wes landed in the dirt and Dallas went after him, hauling him up and smashing him in the face. Wes spun around and swung a punch at Dallas, who dodged the blow and punched Wes in the stomach, doubling him over.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Wes slurred. He was a taller, heavier man, but he was drunk and disoriented. He staggered to his feet and Dallas smashed a fist into his jaw that sent him sprawling. He went down like a stone and this time he didn’t get up.

Adrenaline pumped through Dallas’s blood. His jaw was locked, his teeth clenched. The scab on the back of his hand had been ripped away and he saw that it was bleeding. He turned toward the trailer, found Patience standing at the bottom of the metal stairs.

“I-I needed a ride back to the trailer,” she said as he walked toward her. “Wes volunteered. I didn’t…I didn’t realize he had drunk so much until we had already left the picnic.” She glanced over at the big lump sprawled on the ground. “I was worried about him driving back to his motel. I insisted he come in for coffee.”

Dallas said nothing. He was still so mad, he couldn’t speak.

Patience took a shaky breath. “Wes started kissing me and I couldn’t make him stop.” Her face looked pale. He saw that she was trembling and a band seemed to tighten around his chest.

Dallas reached for her, drew her into his arms. “It’s all right, darlin’. It’s over and you’re okay.”

Patience slid her arms around his neck and seemed to melt against him. “Dallas…” She said his name with a soft sigh of relief and it was suddenly hard to breathe. He held her for long moments more, until her trembling eased and she began to compose herself.

“I’m sorry.” She eased a little away, straightened the front of her shirt. “I think I could have handled him.” She shook her head. “He’s just so darned big. He’s damned pushy but I don’t think he would have forced me.” She flicked a glance at Wes, who now lay there snoring. “It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Something happened before I left Boston. A man I briefly dated became obsessed with me, a guy named Tyler Stanfield. He started stalking me, wouldn’t leave me alone. One night, he broke into my apartment while I was in bed. I guess he made a copy of the key on my key ring. He threatened me, scared the living daylights out of me. I had to get a restraining order to keep him away.”

Dallas drew her back against him, pressing her into his warmth, angry all over again. “He hasn’t bothered you lately?”

“No. Aside from bumping into him once at the supermarket, it’s been months since I’ve seen him. I don’t think he even knows where I am. I guess that’s why Wes scared me so much.”

“Wes is through scaring anyone. He isn’t going to bother you again.” No, Wes McCauley wasn’t going to bother her. He’d beat the bastard senseless if he ever came near her again.

She leaned closer, stood there in the darkness with her cheek nestled into the hollow of his neck, her hair brushing his temple. She felt so good in his arms. So good. He had tried not to think of her, tried to satisfy himself with other women. But God, he had missed her.

“It’s all right,” he said again, stroking her hair, holding her until the stiffness left her body. Patience drew a little away and he noticed the marks left from Wes’s late-night beard. His temper shot back up and he wanted to smash his fist into Wes’s face again. “My cell phone’s in the truck. I’m going to call the sheriff.”

Patience straightened, caught his arm. “Wait a minute, Dallas. Please don’t do that. He just kissed me. He didn’t really hurt me.”

Some of Dallas’s anger shifted onto her. “Look, Patience. I don’t know what’s been going on between you and Wes the last couple of weeks, but tonight I lost a friend because of you.”

Her chin went up. “So now this is my fault?” She started to turn away, but he caught her arm.

“Hold on—I didn’t mean it that way. This isn’t your fault. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just a little…”
Jealous.
He bit back the word. “I’m sorry.” Very gently, he reached out and touched the whisker marks on her cheek. “Damn him.”

She caught his hand, then spotted the bloody scabs on the back. “You’re hurt!”

“It’s nothing. Just a scratch. No big deal.”

She wouldn’t let go when he tried to pull it away. “It’ll be a big deal if it gets infected. Let me put a bandage on it for you.” She rushed back inside and came out a few minutes later with a gauze pad, a roll of adhesive tape, antibiotic ointment, and a pair of scissors. Her hands were gentle as she worked over him, spreading the ointment, fitting the gauze just so, carefully applying the tape. Her fingers brushed his and a thread of desire slipped through him.

Dallas ignored it. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call the sheriff? A night in jail might do Wes some good.”

“I don’t want to get involved with the police. I had enough of that in Boston.”

The light from inside the trailer outlined her slender figure and long, jean-clad legs. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and carry her off somewhere safe from guys like Wes McCauley and Tyler Stanfield.

“If you’re sure about that, I’ll talk to Charlie about Wes. We’ll put the heat on him, make sure he understands what will happen to him if he ever pulls this kind of stunt again.”

Patience nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Will you be all right?”

She flicked a glance at Wes. “What about him?”

Dallas flexed a muscle in his jaw. “I’ll drive him back to his motel. I promise you, Wes McCauley won’t bother you again.” He walked over to the man lying in the dirt and nudged him with his boot. Wes grunted but didn’t wake up.

“Dallas?” He turned toward the sound of Patience’s voice. “Why did you come here tonight?”

Why did he come? Because he couldn’t stay away. “Salty said he thought you might need some help.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “So you were playing Sir Galahad again?”

The corner of his mouth edged up. “It’s kind of a cowboy thing.” He bent to haul Wes to his feet but Patience’s voice stopped him one more time.

“I wish I could figure you out.”

He looked at her there in the moonlight, her hair mussed and her clothes rumpled, and thought how pretty she was and how much he wanted her. “I wish I could figure myself out.”

Turning away, he went back to the not-so-small task of hauling Wes over his shoulder and carting him off to the truck.

She hadn’t seen Dallas all day. The evening performance was just about to begin. This far north, it stayed light until well after ten. Standing outside the trailer, she looked up at the vast Wyoming sky, so big and blue it hurt her eyes. The weather was warm, almost hot, the heat seeping through her clothes and into her skin. As she made her way toward the arena, the smell of hay and horses mingled with the hot dry air and the sound of the wranglers’ shrill whistles.

She needed to see Dallas, to thank him for helping her with Wes last night. She spotted his tall, broad-shouldered frame the minute she arrived, riding comfortably in his heavy leather saddle, warming Lobo up in the arena. As she walked toward the fence, she watched him loping the big, muscular palomino in lazy circles, appreciating his easy manner with the horse, the effortless way the two of them worked together, just a light tug on the reins or the press of his knee conveying his wishes.

Dallas spotted her just then, turned Lobo in her direction, and rode toward her, reining up on the opposite side of the fence.

“Well, you don’t look any the worse for wear,” he said from astride the horse, his gloved hands resting on the saddle horn. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I imagine I’m feeling a whole lot better than Wes.” She smiled. “I didn’t really thank you last night. I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your coming to my rescue.”

Dallas swung down from the horse and led the big gelding closer to the fence. “Charlie and I had a talk with Wes this morning. Charlie told him if he heard even a whisper that Wes was behaving as anything less than a gentleman where a woman was concerned, he would make sure everybody on the circuit knew about it. I can tell you, none of these guys want anything to do with a guy who would press a woman that way.”

Her fingers curled around one of the cables that formed the fence. “I went to the movies with Wes once, that’s all. It was a double date with Stormy and Shari. Last night…I wouldn’t have left with him except…”

“Except what?” He gazed at her with those intense blue eyes that seemed to look at her differently than other men.

“The truth is, I watched you flirting with those women last night and I just…I didn’t want to be there. Wes volunteered to take me home and I said yes. I would have left with the devil himself if he would have taken me out of there.”

Something shifted in Dallas’s features. “I didn’t want any of those women, Patience. The truth is, since the day you drove up in your little red car, I haven’t wanted any woman but you.”

Her heart seemed to slow. She thought it might completely stop beating. Surely she had heard him wrong. Surely the great Dallas Kingman wasn’t saying those words to her. She almost looked over her shoulder to see if another woman stood behind her.

“If that’s one of your usual lines, Dallas, it really isn’t—”

“It isn’t a line.” He shoved up the brim of his hat. “You’re driving me crazy, Patience. I’ve stayed away on purpose, drank too much whiskey, forced myself to be with other women. But even when I’m with them, all I can think of is you.”

Her legs started trembling. He couldn’t possibly mean it. But she couldn’t image Dallas lying about something like that.

“I don’t understand any of this,” she said. “You’re not the kind of man I’m attracted to—I only just started to like you. Still, I can’t stop thinking about you. When I see you with all those women, I wish I’d never met you. Other times…all I want is for you to kiss me the way you did that night in Vegas.”