Texas Tall (The Tylers of Texas 3)

“At least you could’ve let somebody know you were on your way—even Erin or Bernice.”

“It was late.”

“Then maybe you should’ve waited till morning. Three hundred head of cattle to worry about, and I spend half the night chasing all over creation after one mule-headed woman! Do you know how long it took me to find you?”

“Stop browbeating me, Will. We aren’t married anymore.”

“Then why didn’t you call your fancy new boyfriend to come and find you?”

“Right about now, I’m asking myself the same question.” Tori glanced sideways at his angry profile, square jaw set, strong hands clamped on the steering wheel. Will would always be Will—stubborn, hard-charging, and determined to be right. He was the most maddening man she’d ever known. Yet, when she’d found herself in danger, he was the one she’d called.

He drove in brooding silence now, turning the truck up the long gravel lane to the house. Sad, Tori thought, how things can change. Fourteen years ago, when she became Will’s bride, she thought she’d found heaven on earth. What a naïve child she’d been. She hadn’t stood a chance against Bull’s domination, Will’s duty to the ranch, and, finally, his senseless jealousy over an older man’s attentions—a man she could barely abide. That jealousy had struck the final blow to their crumbling marriage.

But all those things were in the past. Now it was only their daughter who kept them tied into some semblance of a family.

“How’s Erin?” she asked as he pulled up to the house.

“Fine. She was asleep when I left.”

“I saw Stella Rawlins tonight, in the Blue Coyote,” Tori said. “The way she looked at me—it gave me the shivers. I realized then that Erin needed to be here with you, out of harm’s way.”

He reached behind the seat to get Erin’s suitcase and hand Tori her purse. “I don’t want you messing with the woman. Don’t even go into that bar.”

“I was safe enough. Drew and I stopped by there for a beer. We didn’t stay long.”

Tori’s legs were still unsteady, the ground slick with ice. She gripped Will’s arm as he helped her up the steps, across the porch, and into the dark entryway of the house. He was like a rock beside her, solid and cold.

Releasing her, he closed the door behind them. “Can Drew—” He spoke the name contemptuously. “Can he protect you? Does he carry a gun?”

“I don’t know. I never thought to ask.”

“Well, you’re going to carry one, at least till this nasty business is over. I have a nine-millimeter Kel-Tec that’s small enough to fit in your purse, but mean enough to blow a hole in anybody who threatens you. I’ll get it for you in the morning.” He set Erin’s suitcase on the floor, shed his coat, then tossed it over the rack in the hall. “Who knows, maybe Drew could use some protecting, too. According to Erin, he’s a mild-mannered type.”

Something in Tori snapped. With a sharp intake of breath, she spun to face him. “How . . . dare . . . you?” She kept her voice low, but every word was charged with fury. “How dare you discuss my personal life with our daughter? What I do is none of your business, Will Tyler!”

“Anything that affects Erin is my business. And that includes the men you bring into her life.”

His arrogance shoved Tori over the brink. Her hand flashed upward. He made no move to stop her as she slapped the side of his face—so hard that the sound of it cracked like a pistol shot in the room. The impact stung her palm and hurt her wrist. Pain brought tears to her eyes.

Will stood like stone. Only his eyes reacted to her blow, narrowing, darkening. Then his hands moved up to rest on her shoulders, their weight anchoring her in place. His gaze drilled into hers.

“Damn it to hell, woman, I should’ve left you in that truck to freeze!” he muttered.

In a swift, sure movement, he bent and captured her mouth with his.

Will’s crushing kiss went through Tori like a lightning bolt—a flash of heat that melded all the hurt, all the anger, all the loneliness of the past eight years, into one burning rush of need. For the space of a heartbeat, she resisted. Then, with a whimper, her lips parted. Her body softened against his hard planes. Her fingers raked his thick, damp hair, pulling him down to deepen the kiss. He groaned, his hands sliding down over her curves in an act of pure possession, pulling her in closer.

“We . . . mustn’t do this . . .” Tori’s faint murmur of protest vanished into darkness as if the words had never been spoken. She was shivering with cold. So was he. They clung together, craving warmth, craving intimacy, both of them aware they were careening toward disaster, and knowing that they’d already gone too far to stop.

He swept her down the hall, pausing for the barest instant at Erin’s door to make sure their daughter was asleep. Then, in the next moment, they were in his room, ripping off clothes, leaving garments where they fell on the rug, before they tumbled, naked and shivering, into each other’s arms and into his bed.

“You’re cold.” He reached for the down comforter and pulled it over them.

“So are you.” She ran her hands over his big, rugged body, remembering every line and hollow, every nick and scar. Only one scar was new—the short, deep gash along his outer thigh where he’d been bitten by a huge rattler last spring and nearly died. That was part of him now, and part of her memory.

Even the way his erection curved slightly to the left was as she remembered, as was the low growl, from deep in his throat, as he mounted between her willing legs and pushed deep, filling the dark, needing place inside her like a man coming home after a long time gone. No foreplay was needed. She’d been ready for him from the moment of that first soul-shattering kiss.

They made love like two dance partners, separated by years, who still recalled the steps. But the music had changed to a throbbing, hunger-driven beat, pounding in its urgency, savage in its demands. Tori stifled a cry against his shoulder as she climaxed, clenching around him in spasms that rocked her to the core. An instant later, he moaned and shuddered, filling her with the warm flood of his release.