Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders), Page 2

“Coming right up.” She pulled the tap and dumped cherry juice over ice, aiming a stream of cola at the glass and swapping the full beer mug for an empty one. She lined the order on the bar top, then wandered to help a new customer.

  Ten minutes later, she poured herself a Coke and leaned against the counter. Old man Duffy grinned at her.

  “You’re scaring me, Duff. What’s that look for?”

  “Missed you last week. Where were you?”

  “At a two-day conference in Rock Springs.”

  “Huh. I thought you mighta bailed on us. Can’t for the life of me understand why you’re still slinging drinks at the Twin Pines.”

  “My job with the state is part-time. So while I’m waiting for a fulltime position to open up or a decent job in my field to magically become available, I’m working here to make ends meet.” Rory chomped on a piece of ice.

  “It’s a waste. A gorgeous blonde amazon woman like you oughta be home every night, bein’ spoiled rotten by a man who appreciates and worships you.”

  She laughed. “Now there’s a fantasy.”

  “If I was fifty years younger…”

  “I’d take you up on it.” And she would, no lie. Her love life—for lack of a better term—was a joke. She’d had one date in the last six months since she’d returned to Sundance. A pity date from the plumber who installed a new toilet at the Wyoming Natural Resources Council office where she worked.

  She’d jumped out of the dating pool for almost a year when she’d been with Dillon. While she had no regrets about breaking off their engagement, she was lonely. She missed the companionship, even when that companionship was what had driven her away.

  Rory kept telling herself that it was better to be dateless and alone than married to the wrong man. Some days it empowered her. Other days it depressed her.

  Her love life wasn’t the only source of melancholy. Twenty-eight years old, with a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, and she was still slinging drinks for tips. She was still living in the same small hometown in the same small cabin she’d grown up in.

  The more things changed the more they stayed the same.

  But she’d had a full, exciting life in college, which made it worse, living in Dullsville, USA again. She’d joined several exchange programs during grad school, which had added almost two years to the time it took to earn her degree. But it’d been worth it, seeing the world outside of Wyoming. She’d spent half a year in South America studying tropical land conservation practices. She’d lived on a large cattle ranch on the big island of Hawaii. She’d mapped wildlife habitats and migration patterns in Alaska and Canada.

  After graduation she’d interned for a year with the Wyoming State Parks Department. But the hiring freeze meant she didn’t land a permanent job after the internship ended. Her relationship with Dillon, her boss in the WSPD office in Cheyenne, had hit the skids at the same time, so taking a part-time position with the WNRC in Moorcroft had been a no brainer. Her living expenses were next to nothing. Working part-time gave her time to apply for jobs all over the country, with every agency under the sun.

  Pity she hadn’t bothered sending off any applications in the past month—she could only take so much rejection. Maybe that was another sign of depression? Or boredom? She knew it wasn’t a sign of contentment.

  At least her mom seemed happy to have her around, although she and her husband, Gavin, were joined at the hip and lips when they weren’t traveling across the country. Most of her friends in the area were married or in a steady relationship. Even her stepsister Sierra was all grown up and living in Arizona while she attended ASU. Rory got a little misty-eyed thinking about when Sierra had shown up at the Twin Pines with her dad and Rory’s mom on her twenty-first birthday so Rory could make her first legal drink. She missed that sweet little brat.

  “Rory? You are a sight for my tired old eyes today.”

  She looked up at a new customer and grinned. “If it isn’t Donald, my favorite bald man. What’s up?”

  “The wind for one thing. Getting cold out there.” He rubbed his hands together.

  “You want the usual?”

  “Nope. I’m feeling daring tonight. How about you add an extra kick to my red beer? A couple slices of jalapeños, some of them peppers and a handful of olives.”

  “You got it.” Just like that her mood brightened. Hard to pity yourself when faced with a cancer survivor who’d been through chemotherapy hell. But Donald was always upbeat. Her favorite part of bartending was talking to customers. If she was totally honest, she hadn’t taken the bartending gig because she needed money, but to stave off loneliness. Hard to believe she could be lonely in her hometown, but she did spend many of her nonworking hours by herself. At least slinging drinks gave her some social interactions.

  Rory slid the drink in front of Donald. “Taste it. If it’s too spicy I’ll dump it out and start fresh.”

  He sipped. Smacked his lips and grinned. “Perfect. Your talent is wasted here, Rory girl. You oughta be in New York City, making killer tips as head mixologist or whatever fancy name they’re calling bartenders these days.”

  “I’ll take the compliment, but I’m too much of a bumpkin to ever work with sophisticated clientele and booze.”

  “How’re things going at the day job? You been out massaging black-footed ferrets’ poor tired feet and polishing the horns on the horn-billed prairie grouse?”

  She laughed. Like most lifelong Ag men, Donald poked fun at state wildlife and conservation agencies’ policies. But unlike other men she’d run across, he meant it tongue-in-cheek. “I can always hope that’s on my to-do list at the office tomorrow.”

  “If you catch one, let me know. My wife’s got a killer recipe for poached grouse.”

  Rory groaned at his pun.

  An hour later the crowd had dwindled. She asked Naomi, the manager, to watch the bar so she could take a break.

  As she left the bathroom, a hulking guy barreled toward her. His hair was as unkempt as his scraggly beard. She flattened herself against the wall to let him pass, but he boxed her in. At six foot one, she was used to towering over most men. But this ZZ Top impersonator topped her by two inches.

  Then he was in her face.

  “Look, buddy, I don’t know what you want, but I don’t have any cash on me and if you don’t back off, I’ll—”

  “Rory.”

  She froze. That deep voice. The way he said her name reminded her of… No. Couldn’t be him. He’d just up and disappeared from her life three years ago without a word and as far as she knew, no one knew where he’d gone.

  “Sweet Jesus. You’re even prettier than I remembered.” He ran his knuckles down her jawline.

  “Stop it.” Rory jerked her head away. “I don’t know who you think you are—”

  “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

  She had a split second of recognition right before he said, “It’s me. Dalton.”

  And then he kissed her.

  When Dalton tried to deepen the kiss, Rory shifted. He automatically twisted his pelvis to protect his crotch—the crazy woman had kneed him in the ’nads before—so the swift punch to the gut caught him unprepared. He stumbled back a step and managed to duck when he saw Rory’s fist headed for his head.

  Out of reflex he grabbed both her wrists in one hand, trapping her hands between them as he pinned her against the wall. “The gut punch and haymaker might lead me to believe you’re not as happy to see me as I am to see you.”

  Rory’s breathing was choppy. Her pulse jumped erratically beneath his fingers. And her eyes, those stunning green eyes stared back at him with suspicion and just a little hatred.

  Great.

  What did you expect? That she’d fall into your arms?

  “You’re stronger and quicker than you used to be,” Rory said.

  “Got tired of getting my ass kicked.”

  “You deserved it most of the time.”

  He grinned. “No doubt.”

/>   “Let me go.”

  “You gonna take another swing at me?”

  “Not unless you try to kiss me again.”

  “Might be worth a black eye.”

  “Don’t.”

  Now her eyes held panic. Awesome. “Rory—”

  “Dalton,” she said sharply, cutting him off. “What do you want?”

  “To talk to you.”

  “Then let me go and come up to the bar and I’ll make you a drink.”

  “I won’t turn you into a pariah for associating with me, jungle girl.”

  Her lips formed a sneer. “You reminding me of the times when we were kids and I didn’t hate you isn’t helping your case, McKay.”

  “But it ain’t hurting it, either.” He released her.

  “Did you go to law school since I last saw you? Because that was a lawyer’s tactic.”

  “That’s why I cornered you. I wanted to plead my case without interruptions. Or without anyone recognizing me.”

  Rory gave him the wide smile that made his heart skip a beat. “I doubt your mother would recognize you.”

  “Guess we’ll see if that holds true later this week.” Dalton slumped against the wall next to her.

  “FYI, no one is gunning for you anymore about jilting Addie.”

  “I heard that she married Truman. I’m happy for them.”

  A few beats later, she said, “Enough with the bullshit small talk and you trying to maul me, Grizzly Adams. Why are you here?”

  He snorted. Grizzly Adams. “In Sundance? Or at the Twin Pines?”

  “Both.”

  “I’m in Sundance because Casper had a stroke.”

  The hard glint to her eyes softened. “I’m sorry. Is he okay?”

  “He can’t talk. And without coming across like a dick, that ain’t all bad. Weather was shitty in Montana and I just got here mid-afternoon. Saw Casper, took a rash of shit from my brothers and I figured what the hell. Why not add your scorn to the crap I’ve dealt with today? Facing my demons and all that.”

  Rory cocked her head. “I’m a demon for you?”

  Dalton couldn’t stop himself from touching her beautiful face. “You’re my biggest demon. I wish things had happened differently. But at the time…I didn’t have a choice.”

  “And now?”

  “You tell me. I had no idea you were livin’ in Sundance.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  “Sierra.”

  Rory muttered, “I’m gonna kick her ass. You’re back in Sundance for…how long?”

  “No idea. So can we get together and talk?”

  “About?”

  “You know what about,” he said softly.

  “Don’t do that,” she snapped. “Act like everything was just a misunderstanding and give me those goddamned puppy dog eyes, Dalton. You know what you did to me.”

  “And you think it was easy for me?”

  “Yes. Because you left the next day. The very next day, after you told me—”

  “Don’t you think I at least deserve a chance to explain?”

  Rory laughed bitterly. “Fat chance, McKay.”

  Then he was done being a nice guy. Dalton blocked her body with his. “You’ll give me a chance or I’ll seize the chance when it arises and I won’t give a damn about whether it’s convenient for you.”

  “Like right now?” she demanded. “When I’m working?”

  His mouth brushed her ear. “So I’d pick a time and pick a place for us to meet if I were you, or make no mistake, it will be on my terms.”

  “Pushy bastard. Fine. I’ll meet you. Now get your scruff outta my face, Chewbacca. I can’t breathe.”

  Dalton laughed and eased back. “Tell me where and tell me when we’re meeting.”

  “I have to work at the WNRC tomorrow. I’m on call for the happy hour shift here tomorrow night. So how about if I call you?”

  Nice try. “Sure. But since you don’t have my number…” Dalton grabbed her left arm and pressed her body against the wall. He removed the Sharpie from his pocket and quickly scrawled his digits down her forearm.

  “Omigod, you are such a pain in my ass,” Rory snapped. “You couldn’t have just written it on a scrap of paper?”

  “Nope.” Keeping hold of her arm, and locking his gaze on hers, he kissed her wrist. “Because you’d conveniently lose it. I want you seeing that number and thinkin’ of me.”

  “Fair is fair. Gimme that.” She snatched the Sharpie, pushed up the sleeve of his thermal shirt and printed her digits much larger.

  He bit back a laugh when she realized what she’d done—now even if she didn’t call him, he could call her. “Thanks. But you forgot to kiss it.”

  “No, I didn’t. And for the record? I hate the beard.”

  “So noted.”

  She turned and stormed off.

  Dalton let her get to the end of the hallway before he said, “Rory.”

  She whirled around. “What?”

  “I’m really happy to see you again. And this time I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

  Then he slipped out the side exit.

  After Rory got home, she paced, a glass of bourbon in her hand.

  I’m really happy to see you again.

  Hah. What was she supposed to do with that? Believe him?

  Wrong.

  Everything about this was so wrong and had the potential to fuck up her head again. Dalton being in Sundance, showing up at her job. Acting so un-Dalton-like, sweet and contrite.

  Bull. He acted like that all the time when he wanted something from you, and it worked every time with you.

  No. She wasn’t falling for this again. She’d been down this road with him before.

  Three times as a matter of fact.

  Rory drained her drink and flopped in the big Papasan chair, pulling her knees up to her chest. She closed her eyes. Maybe she’d drift off before the memories crushed her.

  No such luck.

  For days after the unexpected and abrupt halt to the wedding, Rory had remained by Addie’s side. Listening to her cry. Being the supportive best friend. Running interference with Addie’s family members who were out for Dalton’s head on a spike. Or a bloodletting. Or both.

  But Rory hadn’t chimed in about Dalton McKay’s status as douchebag supreme. Yes, it hurt to see Addie’s misery, but a part of her—a very large part—wasn’t surprised. Rory had been a victim of Dalton’s douchebag ways—not that she’d ever shared those moments with Addie. Some things were just too embarrassing to share with anyone.

  So when Dalton had fled the ceremony, Rory had been relieved. He was intuitive enough to know the marriage wouldn’t work, wouldn’t last, and he’d done the right thing in stopping it before it started. Maybe he could’ve come to that determination before he was literally ready to say I do but she’d secretly given him props for doing the right thing for once in his life.

  After several of Addie’s relatives bragged to her that they’d dished out the beating Dalton deserved, and no one had seen the man since—she’d gone looking for him.

  Maybe it was luck, maybe it was karma, maybe it was fate that Rory had found Dalton in the wooded area by the creek where they’d played as kids.

  Dalton had been shocked to see her. The way he’d cringed against the rock, he’d expected to feel her wrath too.

  In that moment, the June day became so clear she could feel the cool breeze flowing from the river. She could smell the dank, half-decayed leaves on the sun-warmed dirt. She could see the dappled light streaming through the treetops.

  She remembered the bruises, cuts and swelling on Dalton McKay’s face.

  He’d looked at her and sighed. “I’m hoping you’re unarmed.”

  “I am. Although I’ll point out I could make a killing selling your location to the rest of Addie’s relatives who haven’t taken a shot at you.”

  “Wouldn’t be much of a contest. I’d lie down like the dog I am and let them kick the crap outta me.”


  Rory sat next to him on the rock and tilted her face toward the cloudless, vibrant blue sky.

  Neither said anything for a while.

  Dalton spoke first. “How’d you find me?”

  Instinct. “I figured since no one could find you it was worth checking here.”

  His gaze turned suspicious. “Has my family been lookin’ for me?”

  “Yes.” Rory’s eyes took in every bruise, scrape and bump on his face. “I assume everyone you’ve run across has been hard on you.”

  Dalton rubbed the bruise on his jaw. “A couple of Addie’s cousins caught me outside the convenience store in Moorcroft. Mean little fuckers.”

  “They responsible for the shiner?”

  “Nope. Two of her uncles and her aunt cornered me in Hulett. Got a knot on the side of my head where the woman hit me with a marble cheeseboard. Guess she decided not to take back the wedding gift she’d bought us and repurposed it as a weapon instead.”

  “That’s not even funny.”

  Dalton sighed. “No, it’s not. Especially not when I consider the worst beating came from Truman. Guess Addie’s tears turned him into a superhero revenge seeker for jilted brides. The asshole popped me in the mouth hard enough to loosen a tooth, kicked me in the ribs and punched me in the fucking kidney. I pissed blood for two goddamned days. Thing of it is…I deserved it.”

  Silence settled between them again.

  Now when she finally had the chance to ask him the question that’d kept her up at night for months, her lips seemed glued shut.

  “Come on, Rory. I know you’ve got something to say to me.”

  “Why?” she asked him quietly.

  “Why what? Why did I walk away from her?”

  “No. Why did you ask her to marry you in the first place?”

  He picked up a rock and chucked it into the water. “Wasn’t that what I was supposed to do? Time to settle down, they said. Time to grow up, they said. So half of my family was lookin’ at me like I was a defective human because no woman would stay with me longer than a couple of weeks. The other half of my family was lookin’ at my single status as an affront to their family values. Like I was clinging too hard to the wild McKay reputations they’d built over the years. Since they were all done with it, I should be too. Bear in mind many of them didn’t get married and settle down until they were well into their thirties.”