Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders 15)
Why hadn’t he reached out to her?
Because he’s always dealt with family stuff on his own. Rory wondered if he’d ever told his brothers or even his mother how often their dad had taken a strap to him.
She remembered the first time she’d found him after Casper had finished with him. Dalton had tried to blame his red-rimmed eyes and wet face on hayfield dust, but she’d known he’d been crying. She’d never seen the marks, he’d never talked about it, but she had seen how Dalton winced sometimes when he sat down.
Except the summer he’d grown several inches. They’d met by the creek and she’d been shocked by Dalton’s giddiness. Now that he was bigger than his dad, the man no longer had the advantage and the beatings were over. Rory had hidden her horror at hearing the abuse Dalton had endured for years—she wondered if he remembered the rapid-fire way he’d blurted the whole thing out, almost like he was in shock.
She recalled crawling into her bed and crying herself to sleep. When her mom had asked her what was wrong, she couldn’t tell her.
What if Dalton didn’t want her here?
Tough shit.
Rory marched up to the door and banged on it.
No response.
She banged louder. “I know you’re in there.”
The door opened. “Rory? What’re you doin’ here?”
She ducked under the arm blocking the doorway before he could shut her out. “I didn’t hear from you today.”
“Yeah, well, sorry. I had shit goin’ on.”
“Since I’m here, let’s swap ‘how was your day, dear?’ stories.” Rory kicked off her boots and dropped her outerwear into a pile before she headed for the kitchen.
“You can’t just show up at someone’s house at ten-thirty at night without warning.”
She whirled around. “Why not? You do it to me all the time.”
Dalton stared at her.
Sweet Lord. His eyes were so…haunted. She automatically curled her arms around his waist and pressed herself against him. “I missed you, okay? Is that so wrong?”
Then Dalton squeezed her so tightly tears rushed to her eyes. “Not wrong at all. I was needing…missing you too.”
The fact he admitted he needed her, yet he hadn’t reached out to her, cut a little. She tipped her head back to look at him. “You know you can just call me up to chat about stuff any old time.”
Dalton pushed her hair back from her face. “Who called you and said I might need to chat about…stuff?”
Rory considered lying, but Dalton should know his family was worried about him. “Georgia.”
His eyes turned wary. “What’d she say?”
“Just that you had a meeting with your brothers and maybe you’d need someone to talk to. Which I took as the secret McKay code that you really needed sex. And you know I’m all over that and all over you whenever possible because you’re a beast in the sack.”
He smiled. But it was a sad smile. “Will you believe me if I admit I’m not in the mood?”
“I can see that. So what were you doing before I got here?”
“Spacing out.” He brushed his lips across hers. “I’m fine. You don’t gotta hang around like I’m on suicide watch.”
“Shoot. I was really looking forward to being all heroic by saving your life and shit. Way to wreck my night, cowboy.”
Dalton chuckled. “I see you’re in one of them moods.”
“So you gonna let me stick around?”
“You gonna be a pain in the ass while I’m tryin’ to watch my show?” he volleyed back.
“Probably. Are we watching p**n ?”
“You wish. I DVR’d the Universal Poker Tour.”
“Hate to point it out, McKay, but that is p**n for you.”
“Busted.” He led her to the couch.
When she sat next to him, he grabbed her legs and draped them across his lap. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close. “I am glad you’re here, jungle girl.”
For the next hour Dalton gave running commentary on every hand. Pointing out what he felt were mistakes and how he would’ve played it differently.
“You know…have you ever told me why you quit the poker circuit?”
“Most people assume I quit because I lost my ass.”
“I’m not most people, Dalton. But that’s not the case, is it? You let people think that.”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“It’s easier than tellin’ them the truth.”
“Which is what?”
He paused. “I made a f**k ton of money and quit while I was ahead.”
Rory shifted to straddle his lap. She held his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “A f**k ton? Is that an official financial term?”
“It is according to my accountant.”
“I’m not asking this because I want a detailed financial spreadsheet, but there’s one thing we haven’t talked about. The fact you don’t have an official job. You said in the last couple of years you were a logger, and a hunting guide. Now you’ve applied for the elk farm. None of which will make you rich, and yet you don’t seem to be struggling to make ends meet while you’re waiting for that decision to be handed down.”
He closed his eyes. “Do we really have to do this now?”
“Yes. And I’m not asking in an official capacity.”
Dalton remained quiet for a minute or so. “The truth is, I’ve got enough cash and investments that I don’t need a job.”
“For how long?”
Then those blue, blue eyes hooked hers. “Forever. Since I played my cards right.”
Rory groaned. “I’m ignoring your puntastic-ness to ask if you’re serious?”
“Yep. I can pick and choose what I want to do because the job interests me. Granted, I can’t buy a mansion in Beverly Hills or a fleet of sports cars or a yacht, but I’m comfortable.”
“Why didn’t I know this?”
“Talkin’ about it smacks too much of bragging. I got to this point by havin’ a successful run at poker for about four years prior to leaving here. I didn’t blow the money on booze and broads—well, not all of it.” He smirked. “Even though I was winning, I had a budget and I stuck to it.” He shrugged. “Getting paid once a year when I was ranching meant I was already used to stretching out my money. Early on Jack Donohue gave me good financial advice. Then Chase recommended an investment guy and he’s diversified my initial investments. Now I’m able to live off the income.”