Star Spangled Cowboy (5 page)

Tyson groaned and fisted the sheets, his hips lifting as if begging for more. Dacey pulled back and swirled her tongue around the tip before taking him in her mouth again. She took her time, licking, stroking, and teasing. He swelled in her mouth, and she felt his balls draw up a moment before he bathed her throat in his cum. Dacey swallowed every drop, then licked him clean before placing a kiss on his chest and settling back on the bed beside him.

“Damn, woman.”

She gave him a satisfied smirk. “Happy to please.”

“If I didn’t feel like roadkill, I’d flip you over and return the favor. Although, I’m not sure if the doctor said no sex because of penetration, or because it’s bad for you to come right now.”

“Let’s not find out. Besides, sex has been my life for so long, a few weeks off actually sounds pretty nice. As much as I want you, and trust me, I always want you, this might be a good thing for me.”

He hooked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You know that just because we share this bed, it doesn’t mean I expect sex all the time. You can tell me no anytime you want.”

“That’s just it … I never want to tell you no.” She kissed him softly. “We’re going to have sex like bunnies as soon as the doctor clears me. You’ll be so sick of me, you’ll groan and say ‘not again’ when you see me strip naked.”

His chest shook with laughter, and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “I don’t think I’d ever say that.”

“Maybe not. Want help getting your underwear back on?”

“Now there’s something I never thought a woman would say to me.”

Dacey smiled.

“No, sugar, I don’t need any help. But thank you. Why don’t you order some pizzas for us? The number is on the fridge, and my wallet is in my jeans. You can use my bank card to pay for it, or there should be some cash in there. Get whatever you want and a supreme for me. I’m hungry enough to eat a large by myself I think.”

She poked at his six pack. “If you don’t watch it, this will melt away and instead of a six pack, you’ll have a keg.”

Tyson burst out laughing until tears leaked from his eyes. “Sugar, I don’t see that happening, not with everything I go through in P.T. and the training I put myself through at home, but your concern is duly noted.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she sang as she sauntered out of the room, pausing long enough to retrieve his wallet.

Life with Tyson was definitely never boring.

Chapter Six

Tyson gritted his teeth and glowered at his physical therapist. The woman was a sadist, and if he were armed, he just might shoot her. She’d had him working with weights the last half hour, and his body was wracked with pain and pushed to the max. Sweat dripped down his face and chest, and he wondered if walking was worth all this. So what if he couldn’t ride a horse?

Suck it up, asshole.
He did ten more reps and then collapsed. If she wanted more out of him, it was going to require a large glass of sweet tea and about a half hour to rest, and he knew he wasn’t getting either of those things. As much as it sucked, this was his life until he was back to … well, not one hundred percent because he’d never be one hundred percent ever again, but he was hoping to get really damn close. And with all of the modern marvels, who could say he couldn’t get to one hundred-ten percent one day?

“I’m done,” he said, panting for breath. “Hell, I’m not even sure I can walk out of here, much less drive home.”

“You should have brought your girlfriend. She could have read a magazine or something while she waited for you,” his therapist admonished.

“She doesn’t need to see me like this.”

“Aw, would it hurt the big macho man’s pride for his wittle girlfriend to see him suffer?”

He narrowed his eyes at the therapist but didn’t dignify her nonsense with an answer.

“Same time on Tuesday. Don’t be late.” His therapist gave him a cheery wave and went over to her desk.

Tyson wiped himself off with a towel and hauled his ass out to his truck. His entire body ached, and he was torn between wanting a cold shower to cool off and a hot tub of water to ease his muscles. With any luck, the A/C in the truck would cool him off between the VA and home. The clock on the dash read 4:00 PM, which meant he’d barely get home in time to kiss Dacey before she was off to her new job. There had been a bounce in her step lately, though, so he didn’t begrudge her the small amount of income, and the little independence she’d managed to grab.

His truck ate up the miles between the VA and his ranch, and soon he was pulling down the winding drive. Tyson parked near the front porch, not wanting to walk any farther than he had to, and noticed Dacey’s car was still in the driveway. He eased out of the truck, making sure his legs would hold him before he closed the door and made his way inside. Dacey was in the bedroom, slipping on her shoes. He’d taken her to the mall over the weekend and bought her a good pair of tennis shoes so her feet wouldn’t hurt at her new job. She’d protested the cost, but he’d eventually worn her down, convincing her they were a good investment if she planned to work at Cuppa Joe for a while.

“You look like you’ve been ridden hard and put up wet,” she said, coming to stand in front of him. “Was therapy hard today?”

“It’s hard every day. I think that’s the point, to make me suffer so I’ll be strong again.”

She caressed his biceps. “You seem pretty strong to me.”

Tyson smiled and pulled her close, kissing her long and deep. “Talk like that will get you bent over the bed again.”

“Three weeks.”

He sighed. “Three very long weeks. You know, the day you get the all clear, I saw we just stay home for twenty-four hours, naked, and christening every piece of furniture in the house.”

“Now that’s a plan I can agree with.” She smiled broadly, kissed him again, and then gave him a little wave. “I’m off to work. Don’t wait up. I know you’re worn out from P.T.”

That was one way of putting it. Roadkill probably had more energy than he did right now. Tyson stripped out of his clothes, removed his prosthetic, and used his crutches to get into the bathroom. He sat on the bench in the shower and started the water, needing to wash away the funk from sweating profusely. It was a testament to Dacey’s feelings for him that she hadn’t squealed and run away from his stench when he’d hugged her.

Damn but I love that woman.

Well, maybe not love. He wasn’t sure about his feelings for Dacey, other than knowing he wanted her in his life for as long as possible. If that was love, consider him head over heels. He definitely liked her, was in lust with her, but he’d never been in love before. The water beat down on his battered body, and he put his head in his hands, letting the water stream down his back.

Did Dacey want a declaration of love? Or would that send her running in the other direction? If he had to guess, he’d say that no one had ever told her they loved her, probably not even her parents. Which meant when he did declare himself, it would be special and something she would cherish always. Unless it scared the hell out of her. He wished Dacey had some friends that he could talk to, to find out what her reaction might be if he told her had serious feelings for her.

He got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around his waist, and used the crutches to hop back into the bedroom. In his underwear drawer, he pulled out a small blue, velvet box. He flipped the lid open and looked at the heart-shaped ruby in a white gold band. Before the night Dacey almost died, he had purchased the ring in hopes of luring her away from her life of prostitution and into one a lot more boring—that of rancher’s wife. But since she’d been in his house, he’d worried that if he asked her to marry him, she’d balk at the idea and think it was another of his ways of protecting her.

All right, so it might be a little about protecting her, but mostly he wanted her in his bed and in his life every day until he drew his last breath—definitely his last breath, because he refused to let Dacey die first. He wasn’t sure he’d last a week in a world that didn’t have Dacey in it.

Well, if that’s not sappy as all hell.

He closed the box and hid it in his drawer again before pulling out a clean pair of boxer briefs. He sat on the edge of the bed and put them on. It had been a while since he ate and his stomach rumbled, but he really didn’t feel like going to the kitchen and making a meal. And he sure as hell didn’t want to put his leg back on. His stump was fucking killing him and he needed a break. Using the crutches, he made his way to the kitchen, where he made three sandwiches and set the plate of food and soda on the table. There was no way he was carrying all that and using his crutches to get into the living room.

Tyson ate quickly, barely tasting his food, swigged his drink, and then threw his trash away and put his plate in the sink. By the time he made it to his recliner, he was exhausted and ready for a nap. Not even bothering to turn on the TV, he put the foot up on his chair and closed his eyes. He dozed off and on for several hours, well into the night. The numbers on the digital display on the cable box mocked him as they blurred, no matter how much he squinted. When they came into focus, he saw it was nearly eleven. Why hadn’t Dacey woken him when she came home?

“Dacey,” he called out.

He put the foot down on his chair and reached for his crutches. Swinging his way through the house, he searched every room for her, but the house lay dark and quiet except for the lamp he had burning in the living room.

“Dacey!”

He peered through the blinds and didn’t see her car in the driveway.
What the hell?

Tyson got his phone from the bedroom and called Cuppa Joe. The line rang a dozen times, and no one answered. Unease skirted down his spine as he began to fear genuinely for Dacey’s safety. He put on some workout shorts, a tank, and put a tennis shoe on his good foot. Not giving a shit what anyone thought of his stump, he used his crutches to get to his truck and drove into town.

This late, nearly everything was deserted, except for the Wal-Mart and one fast food joint. Every other business was lights out and blinds drawn. He prowled the streets but didn’t see Dacey’s car anywhere, or Dacey for that matter. On a hunch, he drove by the trailer park. Her car was parked in front of her rusted heap, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. Had he done something to upset her that would cause her to run here after work?

Getting out of the truck and up the trailer’s steps took a bit of finesse, but he managed. He didn’t bother to knock and opened the door, swinging his way into the dingy, bloodstained living room.

Dacey kneeled on the floor, her hand on the dried blood spot.

“Sugar, what are you doing?” he asked softly, not wanting to spook her.

“I nearly died. I should have died.”

What the hell had happened at work? She’d been smiling, laughing, and in a great mood when she’d left him earlier.

“Darlin’, I don’t think I understand. Why would you want to die? Am I not making you happy? Did I do something to upset you?”

She turned toward him, her eyes sad and defeated. “No, it isn’t you, Ty. You’re wonderful.”

“Then what happened?”

“The mayor’s wife came in for coffee today. She saw me working behind the counter, saw my name badge, and threw a fit the likes of which I’ve never seen before. She demanded that Mr. Roberts fire me, or said she’d never step foot in his establishment again, and she’d make sure all her friends boycotted the place too. She threatened to have him shut down before the end of the month.”

He propped his crutches against the wall and did a half-crouch, half-fall onto the floor beside her. Hell if he knew how he’d get up, but right now his woman needed him. Tyson pulled Dacey in his arms, tucking her head under his chin, and lightly rubbed her arm.

“The mayor’s wife is a mean bitch. Always has been, always will be.”

“Mr. Roberts told her that he would rather have ten of me working for him than one of her in his shop.”

Tyson smiled. “Good for him.”

“No” she wailed. “Not good for him! He’s going to lose his business and all because he was nice enough to give me a chance at a normal life. I’m never going to have that here, Ty. I want to stay with you, more than anything, but you belong with Braxton Ranch, and clearly there’s no place for me in this town. They won’t let me rise above who I once was. It doesn’t matter if I clean myself up, get a better education, get a regular job … it’s never going to be good enough.”

“What are you saying, Dacey?” he asked his heart in his throat.

“I’m saying that I think I need to leave, Ty. Start over someplace where no one knows my name or my background. I need a fresh start and this town isn’t going to let me have that.”

He felt like his heart was shattering into a million pieces.

“What if I came with you?” he asked. “Would you even want me to?”

“I can’t ask you to leave your ranch.”

“Darlin’, I can’t work the ranch right now. The foreman has been in charge for years now, even while I was absent in Afghanistan. I think he can handle things a while longer, and if anything comes up, he knows my cell number. But there’s one drawback. I need to be near the VA.”

“Well…” She looked up at him. “Casper is a larger town, right? And it’s far enough away that people might not know about my past, or have even heard of me. What if we rented a place in town, maybe near the VA, and had a fresh start together?”

“You’re sure this is what you want?”

“I’m sure.”

He nodded. “Then we’ll go home and pack enough clothes to get by for now, and we’ll head into Casper. We can stay at a hotel for a few minutes and scout some places.”

She stared into his eyes. “You’d really do that for me? Just pick up and move, leave your life behind?”

“Yeah, sugar, I would.”

“Then if you can give up everything you know to follow me when I run away, then maybe I can be strong enough to stay and fight. I don’t want this relationship always to be about what I need, Ty. You have needs, too, and I want to make sure they’re being met. It’s not fair of me to uproot you just because I don’t want to face the town gossips.”

He smiled. “Then we’ll stay and fight. You know the best way to thumb your nose at them?”

“Show up at church?”

“Well, that would probably do it, but I had something else in mind. Something I’ve wanted to ask you for a while, but the timing is always off.”

She looked around. “Can it wait until we’re back home? I want out of this place. I’m torn between wanting to burn it or sell it, although I doubt anyone will buy a bloodstained trailer.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Instead of selling it, I think I’ll give it to the other girls Carlos owned. Some of them have their own places, but I know two who were living with him. If he’s in jail, then they’re homeless.”

He kissed her cheek. “You have a good heart, darlin’. Let’s get out of here and we’ll talk more at home.”

It was a struggle, but with Dacey’s help, he managed to get upright and moving again. She followed him home, parking beside his truck in front of their home. By the time Tyson was in the house, he was ready to collapse from exertion, but he had something important to do first. He went to the bedroom and retrieved the little box, hoping like hell he wasn’t about to royally fuck up, and then sought out Dacey.

She was in the kitchen, putting the clean dishes away and re-loading the dishwasher.

“Sugar, can you stop that a moment? I need to talk to you.”

He pulled out a chair and collapsed onto the seat. She sank into the chair beside him and looked at him expectantly. Tyson had never been more nervous in his life, and he reached for her hand while covertly extracting the ring under the table. He gave her fingers a squeeze and then took a breath to steady his nerves.