“Oh? And who’s going to make me?” He took a challenging stance, his fists planted on his hip bones.

“You sound like a fourth grader,” she said. “You’re acting like one, too.”

He laughed, but Rose could tell she’d stung him. “I wouldn’t be so high and mighty if I were you, Rose Landro. I know a lot about you.”

“You don’t know me at all.”

“I know enough. I know you shot my grandfather. And I know you used to live here, and that you’d do anything to get this place back.” He winked. “Anything . . .”

“I think you’d better leave.” Rose could feel the adrenaline surging—a wild animal’s fight-or-flight response.

“I could do a lot for you,” he said. “I’ve got connections, and my father listens to me and takes my advice. I’ve got money, too. And good credit if you need a loan to fix this place up. All I’m asking in return is a little neighborly cooperation.”

Sweat beads trickled down the back of Rose’s neck. Her first impulse was to make a break for the truck and drive off, but he’d placed himself in her way. He didn’t look very strong, but he was young and tall, with long arms and big hands. In a struggle, she wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

Heart in her throat, she turned aside, toward the creek. “I’m not that desperate,” she said. “Go get yourself another girl, one closer to your own age.”

His hand caught her elbow, spun her around, and whipped her against him, pinning her arm behind her back. His face was so close that she could see the pores on his nose and smell the mint on his breath. “A woman like you, the way you’ve lived, I know you’ve done it plenty before. And liked it too, I’ll bet.”

“Let me go.” She glared up at him, on the edge of wildness. “Let me go, or so help me I’ll scratch your eyes out.”

He twisted her arm harder, hurting until she almost cried out. “I’d like to see you try, bitch. You’ll thank me when I’m done with—”

“That’s enough, Junior. Let her go.” Tanner’s deep voice came from somewhere behind Garn. With a muttered curse, Garn let go of Rose’s arms and shoved her away from him. She stumbled and fell back against the old cottonwood trunk.

Tanner had stepped out of the willows and crossed the creek. He stood facing Garn, so broad-shouldered and muscular that he made Ferg’s son look like a scarecrow. The pistol at his hip remained holstered.

“Go home, boy,” he said. “If you leave right now, I won’t tell your father wha

t you just tried to do to this lady.”

Garn’s face had turned crimson. “My father doesn’t care! He says that a man needs experience to be a real man. And she’s no lady. You can tell that just by the look of her. She’d spread her legs for the price of a movie ticket. This is none of your business, cowboy. Back off, or I’ll have your ass fired!”

Tanner didn’t move, but his mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile. “I’d like to see you try,” he said. “Run along. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

Garn glared at him. “You’ll pay for this!” He spat out the words as he turned and strode back across the creek, soaking his expensive-looking wing tips in the shallow current. Moments after he disappeared beyond the willows, Rose heard the growl of a light motorbike fading away.

Tanner walked over to where Rose had stumbled against the big cottonwood trunk. She was struggling to stand, her eyes crying angry tears. “Are you all right?” he asked, holding out his hand.

She took it and let Tanner pull her to her feet. Even then she couldn’t control her tears. Garn hadn’t hurt her physically, but his ugly words had pierced her like an ice pick thrust to the bone. Was that how people saw her, as cheap, common, and available to any man who wanted her? Was that the way she should see herself?

Even Tanner, looking down at her now—was that what he saw, a low-class, pathetic creature with no value except as a toy for men to abuse? Did he feel sorry for her?

It was all she could do to keep from breaking apart like a shattered doll. But she had her pride. She wasn’t about to let him see how deeply she’d been hurt. The last thing she wanted was his pity.

Forcing a smile, she drew herself up. “It’s a good thing you happened along,” she said. “I was just about to beat that poor boy to a bloody pulp.”

“I could tell,” Tanner said. “I got here just in time to rescue him. And the fool didn’t even thank me.”

Knees quivering, Rose took a step forward, then stumbled. Tanner reached out to catch her, but she sank back onto the cottonwood trunk, pulling her knees against her and wrapping them with her arms.

“It’s all right, Rose,” he said. “They were only words. You’re not anything like what that little jackass said you were.”

“How do you know?” She stared at the ground. “You just met me. You don’t know anything about me—and most of it, you wouldn’t want to know.”

He sat down next to her, their shoulders not quite touching. “I know what I see,” he said, turning his head to look at her. “I see a brave, spirited woman, a warrior if you will, fighting against all odds to make something good of her life—a woman who’s been knocked down and gotten up again and again. Rose, you’re one of the most courageous people I’ve ever met.”

His words had touched her. She sniffed back tears. “And you, Tanner McCade, are full of baloney, as my grandfather used to say. I’ll bet you say nice words like that to all the girls, except maybe the pretty ones who don’t need to be told how brave they are because, if you’re pretty, it doesn’t matter.”

Tags: Janet Dailey The Tylers of Texas Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net