Jump Start (Texas Hotzone 1)

Bobby let out a guttural growl, pounding into her one last time, his head tilting back as the taut muscles in his body shook with release, warm heat spilling inside her. Jennifer was spellbound, watching him, riveted by the sleek lines of taut, defined muscle flexing with his release. The intensity of his expression. And yes, the bittersweet bliss of Bobby on top of her, inside her, with her.

He collapsed on top of her, head buried in her neck. She clung to him, too, told herself not to, but the minute she let him go, the minute they spoke or moved, the mood would shift. The reality would pierce the fantasy.

The air thickened with unspoken words—he felt it, too, she sensed that in him. The need to say something, to explain, to make the past better, when there was no possible way he could. But lying there, the heavy weight of him resting so erotically on top of her, she wished he could. Wished there were a way.

Long seconds later, Bobby eased off her, his gaze brushing past hers, as if he were afraid to look at her. And when she might have escaped, he pulled her back to his chest, strong arms surrounding her, his powerful leg sliding intimately over one of hers. His lips nuzzling her neck. And she let him. Let him move her, let him hold her. Let herself enjoy the moment. Until the moment was gone, and reality arrived.

“The night I left,” he said finally, “my old man was arrested.”

The announcement shocked her. His father had been arrested, and she had never known. She could hear her heart thundering in her ears as she thought about that evening—shopping with Marcie, lighthearted, having fun. Then the hours later when Bobby wouldn’t take her calls, when she feared something was wrong with him. And finally, when something deep in her heart had known he was gone for good, but logic had said she was insane—they were in love, they were getting married.

“He was drunk,” Bobby continued. “And he drove his truck into a house. A young mother and her son were inside, and barely escaped injury. I knew he’d had a problem for years. Hell, he was the reason I got good grades and a scholarship to college in Austin. I wanted out of San Antonio, out of that house. And I wasn’t about to be held captive by money. When I got out, I was out. I didn’t want to ever go back. And I made damn sure I kept you away from that world and, most importantly, my father.”

He drew a breath and Jennifer found herself letting out the one she was holding. Bobby continued, “But that night, when he called me from jail, I drove to San Antonio and I tried to help him. To convince him to agree to rehab. His attorney was backing me. That was when my uncle showed up. Joe. I never introduced you to Joe. He’s a drinker like my father. A real bastard when he’s had too much—which is pretty much always. Joe teamed up with my father, said I thought I was better than them. Joe said he’d been to college, too, and it wouldn’t save me. That I would end up like him sooner than later. It was a hot spot for me. My worst fear. What if I became like them?

“I got in the car and started driving again but not back to Austin. Hell, I didn’t even know where I was going. I blinked and I was five hundred miles away, somewhere near the Mexican border, and there was an Army recruiting office. It felt like a sign, the thing I was supposed to do. I was ashamed. I didn’t want you to know what had happened, or what I was destined to become. A random drunk in San Antonio would never make the Austin papers and I told no one. And so I made the choice to save lives so I wouldn’t destroy them. Or you. So I couldn’t destroy you. I loved you too much.” His breath caught, a long, tension-laden pause, before he added, “And I knew…I knew, Jen, if I saw you again, I’d be too weak to walk away.”

Jennifer lay there, unmoving, incapable of words, her heart lodged in her throat. Trying to digest what she really knew about Bobby. His mother had passed away from cancer when he was in his teens, and Jennifer had met his father several times, usually at the bar up the road from his shop. She’d known his father was a drinker, and she’d known it bothered Bobby. But yet, she had known nothing about how bad it was for him at home, about how bad the night he’d left had been. He’d shut her out. Maybe he’d never let her in, in the first place.