You're Not Safe (Texas Rangers 3)
She smiled and studied the way the light hit the glass. “Mine mixed with other varietals.”
“And next year you make your own.”
Ambition gleamed in her eyes. “I will. With luck we’ll have enough grapes to at least start out with five hundred cases.”
“I’ve no doubt you’ll get it done.”
She nodded, no hint of apology in her demeanor. “I will. Bonneville will make a mark in the world.”
They retreated to the couch in front of the fireplace. She curled up like a cat and faced him. She hesitated as if, like him, small talk was a skill yet to be mastered. “Is there any more news on Jennifer’s case?”
He didn’t like the shift from personal to professional but accepted it. “Not yet. We’re running down every lead we have right now.”
“And Michael?”
“We haven’t found him yet.”
She sipped, arched a brow. “I’m guessing then you came out here about Mitch.”
He wanted to see her, know she was okay. “You said Mitch was doing well.”
She sipped her wine. “He is. He works with the horses, and he was in the fields today. Worked harder than anyone.”
“Where is he now?”
“With another kid I hired. Danni Sinclair.”
“Your pint-size defender at the center?”
She laughed. “Yes. She invited him out for a movie.”
“And he said yes?”
“He was taken aback but he managed to say yes.”
“Good thing she did the asking. Not sure if he’d have gotten around to it. This a date?”
“I’m not sure if either would cop to that but they were laughing when they climbed into his truck.”
Bragg shook his head. “I owe you my thanks, Greer. Two months ago I feared that boy would never smile again.”
“He’ll never forget what happened. But he’s learning to live a little more each day.”
He sipped his beer and before he thought he said, “What do you do for fun?”
She arched a brow, amused by the question. “Me? I work. That’s what’s fun for me.”
“You volunteer, you run the vineyard, take in stray dogs and horses and ailing ex-marines. What do you do for yourself ?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I don’t think about it.”
“You deserve to live a little, too.”
Her gaze darkened and he had the sense she did not agree. “That so?”
He shook his head. “You do your best to keep everyone else going, but you don’t do for yourself.”
She sipped her wine. “I don’t need much.”
Her skin glowed in the evening light. “Why do you deny yourself ?”
“Like I said I don’t need much.”
He swirled the beer in the bottle. “You deserve happiness like the rest.”
She stiffened and stared into her glass.
He watched her brow knot. “You don’t believe that.”
Smiling, she shook her head. “I feel like I’m having a session with Dr. Stewart. He has a knack for zeroing in on sensitive spots.”
“And what do you do when he does?”
“I dodge and weave.” Her eyes danced with humor. “Spin denials.”
“Like now.”
“Exactly.”
“Why?” The man, not the Ranger, wanted the answer.
She was silent for a long moment. “It’s a little hard to embrace happiness.”
“It’s been twelve years since the accident.”
“And my brother and Sydney are still dead.”
“So you stay in limbo until the end of your days.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“It’s a waste.”
“It’s my life to waste, Ranger Bragg.”
“Tec. My friends call me Tec.”
“I’ll stick to the formal, if you don’t mind.”
“Why?”
She straightened and rose from the sofa. “Better we each stay on our own side of the fence.”
He’d put her nerves on end. But those nerves weren’t jumping with fear but something else. “You pulled my boy over to your side. Makes it a bit more personal to me.”
She glanced toward the mantel, the army of photos facing them. “He won’t be here forever. One day he’ll get his legs under him, and he’ll move on. That’s the way it should be. And then you’ll return to the life you had before Mitch.”
When he looked back at his old life he saw loneliness.
“I’m in a good place,” she said. “I work hard and I manage to sleep hard these days. I can go months at a time without crying, and I’m hoping the recent nightmares are a passing thing.” She sipped her wine. “All this introspection since Rory’s death has brought a lot to the surface and I don’t like it.”
“Anything new?”
“No. Same old, same old.”
An image of Greer, a blond girl standing on the far side of the country club all those years ago, popped into his head. “Did you run into anyone from Shady Grove at the country club? Ever. A lot of the kids came from wealthy families. Stood to reason you’d cross paths. What club was it?”
“Western Country Club.”
“Jennifer was a member there?”
She frowned. “I didn’t know that, but there were hundreds if not thousands of members. And back then I was all about riding my horses. I showed up at the club when commanded.”
“Do you still ride?”
“Not since the accident.”
“You should pick it up again. Though I’d stay away from Beauty.”
She laughed. “Duly noted.”
A strand of hair dropped in front of her eyes and he resisted the urge to brush it aside. Instead he set his beer on an end table, freeing up his hands.
He took her hand in his, smoothing his fingers over the calluses on her palm. The calluses extended to her heart but under the tough was tenderness. “A lifetime for one moment. Doesn’t seem right.”
She met his gaze. “One devastating moment changed too many lives.”
He sat still for a long time, simply holding her hand. Her scent rose up to tease his nose. His gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts and then up to her eyes. She was staring at him. But there was no sadness in her gaze now. Only need.
And then slowly he r
ose pulling her with him. If she resisted, he’d let go. But she moved willingly, stopping mere inches from him. She wasn’t tall. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder but he sensed if he held her she’d feel right.
He drew circles on her palm with his thumb and then bent his head toward her lips. She moistened her lips, glanced up at him, and then, rising on tiptoes, closed the distance. Her lips were soft, sweet, but he sensed in her a deep vibrating energy that likely had been building for years.
He leaned into the kiss and she absorbed him as if half starved. He threaded his fingers through her hair, closing his fist around the softness as he pressed his other hand to her hip.
Greer’s senses burned toward overload. Every muscle in her pulsed, and desire built in her body. She’d dated a few times in technical school, but the unshakeable guilt she carried over her brother’s death had driven her away each time.
Now, the guilt buzzed around her head, but she shooed it away. She had the rest of her life for regrets and guilt, and right now she enjoyed this incredible sensation that was sweeter, more intoxicating, than any wine she’d ever tasted.
A deep seductive growl rumbled in Bragg as his hand cupped her breast. Slowly he backed her up toward the couch and he eased her down, covering her body with his. Hard sinew and muscle covered her.
His hand slid over her belly and to the snap of her jeans. “Greer?”
The unspoken question hung in the air. He was giving her a choice. He would stop now. How many times had she kept herself in reserve, away from the world as if encased in a layer of ice? She wanted to melt the ice, to feel a connection—a connection to Bragg.
“I want this,” she breathed.
He ground a kiss into her and cupped her breast with his hand. Sensations shot through her body, as if it had come alive, awakening from a deep sleep.
Her hands skimmed over his shoulders and down his back. Muscles rippled under the surface of his shirt. Restrained power radiated.
Seconds and then minutes passed as feelings swirled around her. She kissed him, clutching his shirt before reaching for his belt buckle. He stopped her hand, unfastened his belt buckle, and set his belt and gun on the floor. She unzipped his pants and reached inside the fabric to hold him. He sucked in a breath and a growl rumbled in his chest. “You’re going to break me, woman.”