Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)

“Better not to.” Ferg pulled into a vacant lot, a half block past the reverend’s house. “I’ve missed you, babe. Come here.” He reached across the console between the bucket seats, pulled her against him, and kissed her, long and hard, shoving his tongue into her mouth. He hadn’t made it all the way with her since the boy was born. But she’d always been up for their occasional necking sessions. Maybe this time he’d be able to get her into the backseat. It never took much to get him hard, even with Edith. He was already there.

She moaned as his hand cupped her breast through the thin cotton dress. At least she had decent boobs. And squeezing them always got him going. He plucked at her buttons. “C’mon, babe, give me a feel. . . .”

She squirmed away. “No, Ferg. We mustn’t . . .”

He took her hand and placed it over the bulge beneath his jeans. “Just feel that. . . .” he said. “That’s what you do to me, babe. If you’d just—”

“I can’t, Ferg.” She pulled her hand away and reached for the door handle. “I can’t do this with you, then go to church and sit there like nothing happened. I’ve never stopped loving you. But if you want me that way, you can marry me!”

With that, she shoved open the car door, climbed out, and stalked back up the road toward home.

Ferg’s fist punched the steering wheel as he watched her go. “I’ll marry you when hell freezes over, bitch!” he muttered, starting the car.

Swearing, he pulled out of the lot and roared up the road. In his rearview mirror, he saw the good reverend come out on the porch and shake an angry fist at him.

CHAPTER 11

SUSAN’S MOTHER STIRRED A TEASPOON OF SUGAR INTO HER JASMINE tea and took a cautious sip. “You’ve been avoiding me, Susan,” she said. “I’ve been here for days and I’ve hardly seen you.”

Susan sighed. She’d come downstairs before the breakfast hour, hoping to grab a quick cup of coffee and disappear for a morning ride. But no such luck. Vivian had never been an early riser, but she’d made an exception this morning.

“We’ve barely had a chance to talk.” Even at this hour, Vivian was put together for the day. Her still-pretty face was made up like a movie star’s, her short blond hair freshly dyed and fluffed to perfection. Costumed in a turquoise silk blouse, tan skirt, and a coordinating neck scarf, she was the picture of a gracefully aging Southern belle.

“Sit down, dear.” She tapped a manicured finger on the tablecloth. “You’re looking peaked. Are you taking care of yourself?”

“I’m fine. Just need some coffee.” Susan turned toward the swinging door that connected the dining room to the kitchen.

“You need more than coffee. Sit down.” She rang a small brass handbell that stood next to her plate—a bell that Susan hadn’t seen in her entire time here. The aging cook stepped through the door and stood at attention as if she’d trained him, which she probably had.

“Ma’am?”

“Get this girl some coffee with cream and some bacon and eggs with wheat toast. Pronto!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He vanished and returned a moment later with a cup of steaming coffee and a small pitcher of cream for Susan, who’d given up on leaving and taken a seat. “Thank you, Joe,” she said.

Vivian shook her head as the old man returned to the kitchen. “What have I taught you about thanking servants?” she scolded Susan. “You’re supposed to ignore them. They’re just doing their jobs.”

“Mother, this is Texas,” Susan said. “It’s good manners to be nice to everybody, even the hired help.”

“Well, I taught you better.” Vivian spooned more sugar into her tea, tasted it again, and nodded her silent approval. “Your father told me why you broke your engagement.”

“Good. Then I won’t have to explain it all over again. I can’t believe Dad tried to talk me into changing my mind.”

Vivian sighed. “You’re very young, my dear. When you’ve experienced more of life, you’ll realize that happiness doesn’t always come in a perfect package. Sometimes we have to accept the bad to get the good.”

Susan had just finished stirring cream into her coffee. The spoon clattered to the table. “You’re agreeing with him? I can’t believe this!”

“Think about it, dear. Ferguson is a handsome young man, and he seems bright enough to be a good manager. One day he’ll own this ranch. Combine that with what you’ll inherit, and the two of you could be extremely wealthy. Think of it—anything you want. You could replace this hovel with a beautiful new home. You could travel, have the best of everything for you and your children—”

“Mother, don’t you know what he did? Not just in the past, but after we got engaged. I caught him coming in after midnight. He didn’t even try to deny that he’d been with a woman.”

“He’s young, dear. And young men have needs.”

“That’s what he said! And he told me that if I wanted him to stay home, I could take care of those needs myself. That was when I gave his ring back.”

Vivian nibbled a slice of the dry toast that the cook had set on the table, frowned, and put it back on the plate. “As I said, Ferguson is young and running on male hormones. Once you’re married, and he has you to keep him happy, he’ll settle down.”