Last of the Red-Hot Riders (8 page)

The one who'd gotten a threatening text message. The one whom Steel wanted to train to fill his boots. The one who'd jumped on a Horseman's back to protect him tonight. Saint remembered his heart had felt like it nearly stopped when he'd seen her do that in the oversized mirror behind the bar.

She kissed him so hot his boots practically melted.
I knew that was a bad idea. And I know from watching Trace fall that the idea doesn't get better with time.

I did not need a hell-raising woman in my life.

When Saint made it to the kitchen in the morning, Cameron was long gone. So was Lucky—which meant Cameron had come into his room last night while he was asleep. He woke up with a woody and a fierce longing for the redhead who'd deserted his bed. He made some pretty nasty instant coffee, and jumped in his truck to head to the training center.

He was waylaid by Steel before he could walk in.

“I want to talk to you,” Steel said, and Saint had the uncomfortable notion that of the many topics he could guess were on the sheriff's mind, none qualified as an appealing early morning news bulletin.

“So talk. I'm going to get some coffee. I've been promised hot and dark joe, and I need it. The instant I made didn't cut it.”

Steel followed amiably. Saint got them both some coffee, took a sip, and mused that if Cameron had made it, she'd certainly kept her promise. “Guaranteed to put hair on your chest,” he said, handing Steel a mug.

“Got plenty of that.” Steel accompanied Saint into the office, made himself at home in one of the chairs scattered around the big desk. Saint had quickly checked for Charlie, Cameron's horse, and his stall had been empty, so she'd probably made practice on time.

So far, so good. His day had started off on a good note, thanks to the smell of strawberry shampoo and a hint of a springlike perfume he'd smelled when he'd opened his bedroom door. He could get used to that, he thought, settling back in his chair, kicking his boots up onto his desk.

If only she didn't have designs on him to train her—when all he wanted to do was undress her and lose himself in her.

“What can I do for you, Sheriff?” Saint asked, forbidding his mind to go down the sweetly torturous path it wanted to.

Steel closed the door behind him, settled back in his chair, put his mug on the desk. “I think Judy's planning to cut me loose, Saint. Write me the old Dear John letter, as they used to say.”

Saint choked, midsip. Coffee spewed from his mouth and down his chin to his shirt, baptizing the desk as well. “What the hell, Steel?”

Steel shrugged. “I think my girl has cooled on me.”

“No she hasn't.” Saint wiped at his shirt with a brown paper towel, sighed. “That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, first of all, and second, I'm not a romance counselor. I'm the last one you want to be coming to for answers. Hell, Steel, you know I can't figure out my own love life, much less yours.”

“I didn't know you had a love life.”

That was precisely the issue. “Well, if I did, I'd make a mess of it—you know that. If it's a listening ear you need, go talk to Hattie. There's no smarter woman in this town than Hattie. Plus, she'll give you a piece of cake so heavenly your problems will melt away.”

A knock on the door gave him a welcome opportunity to shut down this line of conversation. “Come in,” Saint called, perking up when Cameron poked her head inside.

The fact that she was like sunshine pouring into his sucky day was unfortunate. He didn't want to feel this way, this sense of joy every time she walked into a room. On the other hand, it was pretty damn sweet how just looking at her, being around her, made him happy.

“Hi, Steel,” she said, smiling at the big man.

“Cameron, I want to talk to you,” Steel replied. “Come in and shut the door.”

Oh, hell, here it came, the opening of the floodgates of Hell. From this moment forward, everything was going to go seriously pear-shaped.

“I think you have the right stuff for law enforcement,” Steel said to Cameron.

She laughed, shook her head. “No, Steel.”

The sheriff nodded. “You're just as capable as any of the men I've brought on, and frankly, we could use some women on the force. It would balance Hell out. This town is too steeped in testosterone.”

Cameron's gaze briefly met Saint's. It was like a laser hitting him in the eyeballs.

He was far too attracted to this woman.

He wished Steel had taken his opinion under advisement before he'd talked to Cameron about his Big Idea. Saint wanted no part of Cameron being anywhere around Hell law enforcement. Just last night at the Honky-tonk should have let everyone know that Hell was no place for a woman with a badge—not his woman, anyway.

Shit. I did not just think that. She is not my woman, she is not going to be my woman.

“You're serious.” She thought about it another second, then beamed. “I'd love to hear more about this, Sheriff.”

Saint's heart slid down to his boots, which he now removed from the desk so he could hunch over it, rest his hands and elbows on it, try to look like he wasn't getting hit with a big jolt of fear.

Which, of course, he was. After all, she'd leaped on top of a Horseman last night to protect him—as if he, a SEAL, needed the protection of a flame-haired slip of a girl. She could not be trusted to be the doughnut-eating, relaxed kind of deputy that Frick and Frack were.

“I've got some ideas how it could happen,” Steel said, making Saint grimace.

“I'll find you sometime and we'll talk about it. I've got to get back to training Charlie. Thanks for thinking of me.” Cameron went out, closing the door, her gaze finding his just before the door closed. Like maybe she liked him a little bit. Like maybe he wasn't just another guy taking up space in her life.

Pathetic.

But it was very strange how those baby blues could send his heart soaring straight to the moon.

“Judy's going to kill me,” Steel said, his face breaking into a grin once he and Saint were alone. “But I'm right. Cameron would make a great deputy someday. And we need female law enforcement in Hell. In fact,” he said, proudly beaming, “it might do more in the long run for our reputation as a female-friendly town than sticking the girls in an arena with bulls.”

Saint wished he didn't agree with Steel—on the premise, anyway. But not on his intended deputy. “You're right on one account. Judy is going to kill you.”

Steel's face collapsed into a frown. “The thing is, she's already off me, so I might as well follow my heart on this one. Cameron deserves a shot.”

“Let's not be too hasty,” Saint said quickly. “Judging from what I saw last night at the Honky-tonk, Judy's not off you in the least. Did she not tell Ivy she was going to draw back a nub if she didn't get her hand off you?”

“Yeah, but that's just Judy being Judy. Nothing this side of the county road is ever going to be Ivy's, not in Judy's mind, anyway.” He sighed heavily. “The thing is, she doesn't talk to me anymore. Not like we used to. Pillow talk and stuff. In fact, she's not really interested in our Saturday Night Special anymore.”

“Now, Sheriff.” Saint sat up, wanting no part of this discussion. He had enough problems with his own love life, and hearing about Steel's wasn't going to be any assistance to either of them. “Women go through phases, you know that.”

Steel nodded. “But for the last month, this phase has stuck.”

This was bad. He wished like hell Judy would talk to Steel about what was going on, but he'd known her for years, and she was far too private to share bad news, even with those closest to her. Steel's unfortunate dilemma was a red flag that Ivy hadn't been lying, which he'd hoped against hope that she was.

The whole situation was pretty damn heartbreaking. And it was hard to remain emotionally distant—his preferred state—when he cared about the town and the woman who ran it the way he did. He was going to have to deal with this new crack in his emotional armor.

At least he had Lucky. He peered under the desk to check on his dog, who sat in his box with a dutifully adoring look on his tiny face. “You're going to have to talk to Judy, Sheriff. She's the only one with the answers you're seeking.”

“Hell, son, a woman doesn't tell you if she's cooled on you,” Steel said incredulously. “Don't you know anything about women?”

“Not as much as I wish I did,” he said, thinking about Cameron.

“The way it works with a gal,” Steel said, “is that she starts to pull away. In the beginning, it's just a little bit. The man thinks nothing of it. Maybe she's worried about something, maybe she's thinking about her job. Men have moods, too, but it's almost always something about his job. But you don't usually know with a gal, especially if she's not one to share her private thoughts,” he said earnestly.

And Judy was a puzzle unto herself, the kind with five thousand pieces. She could be mercurial. Then again, he wasn't in any better shape where Cameron was concerned, so Saint forced himself to focus on this lesson on female ways.

“But then,” Steel continued, “before you know it, you're getting less loving. She seems preoccupied. And then she's gone.” Big tears puddled up suddenly in the sheriff's eyes, and Saint jumped.

“Don't you dare,” he warned Steel. “There's no crying in my office. Goddammit, Steel, Judy has not gone off you!”

The sheriff blinked back his waterworks. “She has. A man knows this after years and years of Saturday Night Specials.”

Saint closed his eyes for an instant, thought longingly of Alaska. Visualized an igloo, and he and Cameron alone inside the igloo with plenty of blankets and a week's worth of food and water so they would rarely have to leave their ice haven, except maybe to see the tiny sliver of sun that poked out occasionally in the Alaska sky. Lucky whined a little, and Saint glanced down at him. Okay, Lucky could be part of their igloo romance, because the little sucker was growing on him.

“Steel, I don't know what to tell you. And I've got to potty this animal Cameron gave me.”

Steel followed him out to the back forty. “I thought that was Eli's dog.”

“Nope. Eli gave him to me.” He watched Lucky select a brown tuft of grass surrounded by nice, dark dirt and commence his business. Poor little thing didn't know how to lift his leg yet, but he'd learn. Everybody learned life's lessons fast in Hell, or you just didn't survive it.

“Yeah, well, he flagged my cruiser this morning and says he wants him back. Says he just lent him to you for the night.”

Saint raised a brow. “Not gonna happen.”

The sheriff shrugged. “You can't take a man's dog, Saint.”

“The hell I can't. Eli can't take care of himself, much less this mangy beast.” He checked his watch. “Which reminds me, we have an appointment with Dr. Jack in thirty minutes. Hate to cut this short, Steel, but this stray has to empty out my wallet. Shots and worm stuff and all that, you know.”

He scooped Lucky up and strode back to his office, happy to get away from the sheriff and his troubles. Maybe he wasn't being a good friend, but he didn't have the answers Steel was looking for. Well, he probably had some insight, thanks to Ivy, but the group vote decreed that they keep Judy's secret to themselves, and he still believed wholeheartedly in that plan.

“Come on, animal. Let's go run up a helluva vet bill. I knew when I first laid eyes on you that you were going to suck me dry, like everything else.”

He cradled the dog to his chest, grabbed his box, and headed to his truck. Cameron waved at him as she walked Charlie to the barn. He nodded at her, letting himself get an eyeful of her sexy ass before she disappeared. Her electric red hair had been tucked up tight under her helmet, but still strands had escaped. Her face was flushed, the exertion of working with Charlie firing up those darling freckles. Saint shook his head, glanced over at Lucky. “That reminds me, we're going to have to ask Dr. Jack when it's time to clip your family jewels, son. If I'm not getting any sex, you're certainly not going to be slipping off to visit the ladies.”

Which made him remember Steel's problem, a mood-killer if there ever was one. But those two were going to have to work things out on their own.

He just hoped they did it soon. Judy would win the debate over the best way to showcase the Belles—and it certainly wouldn't be with Cameron wearing a badge and driving a squad car. Not that Saint wanted her bullfighting, either, but he sure as hell didn't want weirdos from whatever-town texting her threatening messages. In this and many other ways, Steel's job would put her in danger.

He was stuck between a boulder and a bigger boulder, because Cameron Dix was going to do whatever she had to do to make her dream of an equestrian center for kids with challenges come true. When a woman had six siblings, one of them with a severe health condition, she was prepared to fight for her dreams.

And that was one of the things he grudgingly admitted he liked most about Cameron—she never backed down from a fight.

Cameron didn't let herself think about the kissing she and Saint had done last night, no matter how wonderful it had felt. She'd temporarily lost her mind, that was all—it was the excitement from the big night at the Honky-tonk that had rendered her temporarily vulnerable to her attraction to Saint.

Kissing him had not been her best idea, though, because it was just about all she'd thought of since. Which was why, tonight, she and Harper were sitting at Hattie's instead of Redfeather's.

“Avoiding them will be a snap,” Harper said. Michael sat next to her, playing with a Tinkertoy contraption he was building and then taking apart to rebuild again. His hair, as sunny as his mother's, burst around his head like a dandelion in full bloom. He really was a darling little boy—and no sooner had that thought come to her than Cameron realized she was in full biological-ticking-clock mode.

When had that happened?

“Avoiding Saint and Declan, you mean?” Breathless, Cameron took a sip of water to clean out the craziness that had just come over her. Saint's kisses had completely unwrapped her good sense and usual practicality. She'd never wanted kids. When you grew up in a family of seven, one thing you really never thought about was starting yet another family. There just wasn't a whole lot of allure or romance to the idea of birthing a new clan of redheaded Irish, close and funny as her family were. “We can probably avoid them tonight, until we get our plans pulled together.”

That was what she needed: go back to planning, making her lists, organizing the kissing booths for the parade, which was only three weeks away. Once she had a battle plan, she always stuck to it. No deviating.

No Saint.

“Will you take the sheriff up on his offer?” Harper asked.

“It fits nicely into my life's goals. Plus, it offers long-term employment, which bullfighting doesn't, obviously.” And a paycheck to send home—and money to put away for her dream, too. But mostly, money to help with her younger brother Sam's spinal issues. Right now he was in a wheelchair, but he could be lifted onto horseback, which he loved. They had organizations that provided this wonderful service in Dallas and other places, but Hell had nothing like that. Here, she could see her dream bloom even bigger, helping not only kids but
adults
with physical challenges. She could find the space easily, and maybe even one day open a summer camp. “The minute Steel said it to me, I realized law enforcement was something I could really think seriously about.”

“Does Judy know?” Harper asked, perusing the menu.

“I suspect not, because my phone's not blowing up with texts. She still seemed a little hot about last night.” Cameron smiled. “The last thing she expected was me and Saint going out to the Honky-tonk.”

“She's very intent on her team being squeaky-clean.” Harper ruffled her son's hair fondly.

“Yeah, well, we weren't squeaky-clean when she hired us. None of us are angels, although Ava might have been the closest.”

Harper laughed. “I gave up my angel pin a long time ago. Now I just concentrate on being me.”

“Judy knows better than that, anyway. You don't hire girls to bullfight unless they're okay with staring a bull in the eye. And those aren't the girls who are sitting around with pretty hair ribbons and clean socks.”

“Or clean records. So when are you going to tell her?”

“I'm not. There are plenty of things Mayor Judy doesn't need to know.” Cameron grinned. “I'm avoiding Judy more than I'm avoiding Saint, to be honest.”

“There you are!”

They turned as Saint and Declan made themselves at home in their lemony yellow booth. Cameron noticed a rush of warmth and a jolt of sex appeal when Saint slid next to her.

“We've been looking all over for you,” Declan said. “Why aren't you at Redfeather's?”

“We're avoiding the mayor,” Cameron said smoothly. “And this is a girls' night out.”

“Probably a good idea,” Declan said. “She's on the warpath.”

He seemed immune to the fact that Cameron had hinted about it being a girls-
only
night. Saint winked at her, and her breath caught.

“I'll pick up your tab,” he said. “The four of us need to talk.”

Talking wasn't exactly what she wanted to do with him, now that his warm arm was close to hers, and she could smell him, that tantalizing scent of man and leather and something woodsy. Her carefully constructed wall of independence and
don't-want-a-man
was fading fast, thanks to Saint.

“What's going on?” Harper asked, clearly in better control of her hormones than Cameron was. Cameron forced her gaze away from the handsome man next to her and back to a more inclusive focus.

Didn't work. Her gaze slid back to Saint. He winked at her again, and her heart lurched, like a locomotive that had been moving too fast had suddenly slammed on its brakes.

“I don't think Ivy was lying about Judy's situation,” Declan said. “I was suspicious at first, because Ivy likes to stir up drama. But she was too definitive about exactly what the problem was. Remember those trips to Austin that Judy made a few months ago to see her sister, where she claimed she was looking for new Hell's Belles candidates?”

Declan had scooched in next to little Michael, so that the boy was between Harper and him, and Michael's gaze was glued on the big cowboy. Cameron smiled at the hero worship.

“It turns out that Judy was looking for wedding stuff, too, the kind of things women go gaga over for getting to the altar.” He took a deep breath. “But she also went to see a doctor. A specialist.”

“How do you know?” Cameron asked.

“Steel just mentioned it. Right out of the clear blue sky, he said something like, ‘Judy's going back to see that specialist in Austin in a few days. She's getting a mole removed.' ”

“A mole!” Harper looked around the table. “Dr. Ann can remove moles right here in town.”

“Yes, but we don't know what kind of mole it might be,” Cameron said. “And we don't know if it's an excuse she's giving Steel.”

“That's what I'm thinking.” Declan shrugged. “I think someone ought to go to the doctor with her next time. She's going to need help, if she's getting some kind of treatment.”

It would be tough to get Judy to accept that she would need help. Hattie came to the table, tall and beautiful and serene, with dark skin and big eyes that were so kind and gentle you just knew you wanted to be one of the lucky ones she counted as a friend.

“Hello, everyone,” Hattie said warmly, and Cameron felt herself relax under Hattie's kind gaze.