Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)

Bull had thrown away his chewing tobacco last year, after reading that it could lead to mouth cancer. This wasn’t the first time he’d remembered Susan’s promise. The words had triggered more than a few nighttime fantasies over the past two years.

By damn, he still wanted that kiss. One way or another, he was going to get it.

He left the pizza boxes on the passenger seat, closed the truck, and walked back to the red Thunderbird. After checking to make sure nobody could see him, he crouched behind the car, unscrewed the valve stems from the two rear tires, and used the tip of a screwdriver to let the air out. When they were both flat to the rim, he replaced the caps and pocketed the screwdriver. For good measure, he found a loose nail in the parking lot and jammed the point into one of the tires. That done, he strolled back into the Burger Shack.

Ferg glanced up at him. “Forget something, Bull?”

“Nope. Just bringing you some bad news,” Bull said. “Your car’s got two flat rear tires.”

“What the hell—” Ferg’s face reddened. “Who’d do a thing like that?”

“I saw some kids running down the block,” Bull lied. “You know how it is with a fancy car like that. It gets a lot of attention. Some folks might even get jealous.”

“Oh, no!” Susan gave her fiancé a stricken look. “I promised my dad I’d be home by one! I’ll never make it if I have to wait for your tires to get fixed.” Her gaze swiveled to Bull. “Could I trouble you for a ride home, Bull? If it’s an imposition—”

Bull’s pulse skipped. He faked an indifferent shrug. “It’s fine, as long as you don’t mind holding two warm pizza boxes on your lap. If that’s all right, come on.”

Holding the door for her, he glanced back at Ferg. “Sorry about the tires. If I see those kids again, I’ll put the fear of God in them for you.”

“Do that.” Ferg’s hateful expression hinted that he might have guessed the truth, but there was little he could do now except watch Bull walk out the door with his girl.

As they crossed the parking lot to the truck, Susan gave Bull a knowing look. “That was a dirty trick if I ever saw one, Bull Tyler.”

“It was, wasn’t it.” Bull opened the door and moved the pizza boxes out of the way. “And did you really promise your father you’d be home by one, Miss Susan Rutledge?”

She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.”

Bull reined in a chuckle as he helped her into the truck and gave her the pizza boxes to hold. “I did promise to drive you home,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we have to go the short way.”

He closed the door and walked around the truck to the driver’s side. As he climbed in he saw Ferg by the Thunderbird, scowling down at his flat tires. Bull gave him a wave as he roared out of the parking lot.

He had no expectations of the ride back to the Prescott Ranch with Susan. But he sensed that the two of them had formed a bond two summers ago. He had no reason to trust her, let alone like her. All the same, he couldn’t deny that the bond was there, or that it was powerful.

* * *

Ferg mouthed a string of curses as Bull Tyler drove off with his fiancée. It was bad enough that Bull had flattened his tires—Ferg had no doubt about that. But the fact that Susan had asked Bull to drive her home was like rubbing salt on a burn. He didn’t believe that excuse about her father for a minute. She’d wanted to go with Bull. It was like a conspiracy between the two of them—which didn’t make sense. As far as he was aware, they barely knew each other. Maybe she was just trying to make him jealous. If so, damn her, it was working.

Not that he fancied himself in love with her. Susan had been like a kid sister for so long that it was hard to think of her any other way. But as long as he was being pushed to marry, he could do worse than a beauty with a father who was about to die and leave her a fortune. And he wouldn’t have to spend time trolling for sex. Unless he was in the mood for variety, which was bound to happen, what he needed would be right there in his bed.

He glared down the street where Bull’s truck had disappeared around the corner. What really ticked him off was that Susan was his. As long as she had his ring on her finger, no other man had the right to touch her—especially a lowlife like Bull Tyler.

If Susan didn’t know that, maybe it was time she understood. Maybe it was time to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

* * *

Bull felt Susan’s eyes on him as he drove down Main Street. He wanted to say something clever, but he’d never been one for small talk, especially with pretty girls. He’d taken a gamble, flattening Ferg’s tires in the hope that she’d need a ride home. That it had paid off exactly the way he’d hoped was almost too much to take in.

“You haven’t changed much, Bull.” She broke the silence as he turned onto the highway out of town.

“I can’t say the same for you,” he said. “I was surprised to see that ring on your finger.”

“Oh, this.” She twisted the ring, fidgeting with the diamond, which must’ve been at least a full carat. “I know I don’t owe you an explanation. But if you want to hear it, I’ll give you one.”

“Go on.”

She took a ragged breath. “Ever since Ferg and I were children, our fathers have made it clear that they wanted us to marry someday—keeping my father’s cotton and lumber businesses and Uncle Hamilton’s Texas ranch in the family. Now that I’m almost nineteen . . .” Her words trailed off. She shrugged.

“That sounds like something out of the Dark Ages.”