Tequila High, Page 3

  “Where do I pick her up?”

  “She’s at the Hilton, too.”

  “Okay. What room?”

  “I’ll text her and have her come down to you.”

  “Just have her meet me at the restaurant then. I could use another cup of coffee.”

  “Thirty minutes at the restaurant. Thanks, son.”

  Son. It’s just an expression older people use when referring to the younger generations, but it gives me a little pang of affection when John says it. If any other man did it, it would piss me off, but somehow, it feels right, almost fatherly for him to call me what my own dad used to. Before he started feeling threatened by my brother and me. My father is a brilliant, vibrant man, but two years ago, when he turned sixty, he had a stroke. It changed him. I guess made him feel fragile, or maybe just mortal. I don’t know exactly. I only know that now he won’t listen to reason. It has to be his way or the highway, whether his way is right or not. “No problem, John.”

  We hang up, and I toss my bag in the truck so I can go back inside and wait for Piper. I’ve only heard stories about John’s oldest daughter. Evidently, she was a wild little thing when she was young. The few family pictures that dot the console in John’s office show what probably would have been a pretty girl if not for her heavy makeup and multicolor hair. Since she’s been absent for the last ten years, images from her childhood are the only ones around.

  John and his other daughters are closed-mouthed about why she left and why she never visits, but some of the ranch hands who have been with the family for more than a decade hinted at a bad breakup with a local that sent her running. I don’t give a damn about her or her story, just as long as her appearance on the scene doesn’t cause problems with the transition. I’d have handled it differently if I were John, and I’d have told him so if he’d asked, but he didn’t, so now I’m stuck with whatever fallout might come of it.

  I stare down into the black abyss of my coffee, wishing it had a thick swirl of whiskey in it. That might be the only thing that stands a chance of improving my mood. That or some tequila.

  A filthy little fantasy flickers through my mind. That train of thought elevates my mood within seconds. I take a sip of coffee and imagine that it has the bite of tequila, and that it comes with a side of untamed red hair, lips that make me groan, and a body that could keep me occupied for days. Before I know it, I’m smiling.

  Movement to the left teases my eye, but it’s the flash of deep red that catches it. I look over in time to see Haley walk into the restaurant and take a seat at the table nearest the lobby and front door. I watch her for a few seconds, debating whether to go talk to her. We left things at a good place last night, even though I’d have loved to revisit it this morning and start the day off from an even better place. It’s too late for that now, though, so it’s probably better to leave well enough alone.

  She checks her watch, glances around the lobby, then settles back against the cushioned seat to flip through something on her phone. I turn back to my coffee, checking my own watch, but within a minute or two find my eyes back on the beauty by the door. A waiter approaches her, likely to take her order, but she shakes her head and smiles, declining. Why come here and not order anything? She must be waiting on someone.

  That piques my curiosity. Makes me wonder about her life, her job, where she lives, her lovers. Whoever claims the position of the latter is one lucky bastard. Without meaning to, I rub my fingers together at the memory of her slick, tight little body.

  Damn.

  She looks up, glances around again, checks her watch for the second time. Her foot taps a few times, and she drops her attention to her phone again, this time with purpose. I watch her choose a number and hold the phone to her ear. I watch her lips move as she speaks, watch her brow pucker as she thinks. That’s when she swivels all the way around in her seat, scanning the entire restaurant with her smoky green eyes. They click to a stop on me and widen. I nod and can’t help smiling when her cheeks go up in flames. Damn, I love that she blushes. It tells me what she’s thinking. Maybe not specifically, but specifically enough for me to know her thoughts involve me. And very likely what happened between us last night.

  I hold her gaze as she rattles off something into her phone, ends the call, and gets up from the table. She starts across the restaurant toward me. I lean back and take her in as she comes—the slim thighs, the perky breasts, the chin held high. She’s like a gorgeous mare that I’d take great pleasure in breaking, in making her whimper and moan and beg.

  Jesus.

  I run a hand through my hair and resituate in my seat. I can’t keep thinking shit like that. At least not until we’re alone.

  She stops in front of me, her expression almost confrontational, which puzzles me. “What’s your last name?”

  Of all the things I anticipated she might say, that was nowhere on the list. “Holt. Yours?”

  “Well, until four months ago, it was Simmons, but I took my maiden name back after my divorce.”

  “And that is?”

  “Brandt. I’m Haley Brandt. Haley Piper Brandt.”

  6

  Haley

  Anger swells in me. “Did you know? Last night, did you know who I was?”

  “Of course not. Why?”

  I narrow my eyes on him, trying to see the truth in his sparkling gaze. “Because that would be a pretty crappy thing to do.”

  I’m self aware enough to realize that the majority of my ire comes from humiliation. That doesn’t stop me from wanting to lay some blame at his feet, though.

  “It would, but I didn’t do anything, if you remember.”

  My brows shoot up. “Wow. My memory must be getting really bad. I totally thought I was in your room last night, and you did plenty. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

  Nixon unfolds his lean body and comes to his feet. He’s less than a foot away, and when he straightens, I’m reminded of how big he is. He towers over me.

  His lips pull up into a grin that makes my skin warm. That only further irritates me.

  “Oh, I’m definitely responsible for that. But don’t forget it was you who came up and kissed me at that bar.”

  Actually, I had forgotten. “Oh. Right.” I drop my face, even more embarrassed now. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I haven’t been home in a while. It’s got me all twisted in knots. I’m doing and saying things I wouldn’t normally do or say. Or do.”

  He grins. “You already said that.”

  “Well, I just want to be sure you know.”

  “Know…”

  He’s going to make me spell it out, damn him. After the last twelve hours, it’ll be a miracle if my face isn’t permanently beet red.

  “That I don’t normally do things like I did last night.”

  “That’s a shame. You seemed to really enjoy yourself.” He shifts toward me ever so slightly. “I damn sure enjoyed you.”

  “Ohmygod,” I breathe in mortification. I hold up a palm and take a step back. “Look, this can’t happen. Last night shouldn’t have happened. If I’d known who you were…”

  “Then I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “If I’d known you worked for my father, I’d never have let things go that far.”

  Nixon tilts his head and one brow hikes up. He looks…challenged. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I don’t get involved with people who work for my father. I have few hard and fast rules in my life, but that’s one, and it’s one I stick to.”

  “Sounds like your mind is made up then.”

  I straighten my spine. “It is. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it has to be.”

  He nods, but doesn’t say anything.

  “I’m sure you understand.”

  “I understand,” he says, still nodding as he takes another step toward me to close the gap I created.

  I step back. Again. “So you understand why you can’t do things like this.”

  “Like what?” He moves toward me once m
ore.

  “Like this.” I wave a hand between us to indicate what’s going on here, whatever it is. It’s unnerving as hell, that’s all I know.

  “I understand that you want me to make this easy for you.”

  “P-pardon?”

  He comes even closer, so close I can smell the scent of soap on his warm skin, and the coffee and peppermint on his breath. “We started something last night, something I didn’t think I’d have the chance to finish. But now that I do—”

  “You don’t. I—”

  “You can deny it if you have to, but I want you, and I know you want me.”

  “That…that doesn’t matter. The fact of the matter is that my father is—”

  “I don’t give a damn who your father is, and you shouldn’t give a damn about my work. This is between us.”

  “There is no us. There is no this.”

  At that, Nixon smiles. A broad smile that causes my stomach to flip over. Right before my eyes, the transformation happens again. He goes from ruggedly handsome to stunning. My mind can’t fully understand how any one person could be so devastatingly gorgeous.

  “If that’s how you feel, then it will be my pleasure to prove you wrong.”

  “You’re wasting your time.” I try to sound unaffected, but with him close enough to touch, that’s harder than I thought it would be.

  As he stares intently down into my eyes, Nixon lifts his hand to brush the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip. “I’m sure you’re many things, but a waste of my time isn’t one of them.” Before my scrambled brain can even think of a response, he continues, effectively cutting off any argument or rebuttal I might’ve made. “Now, we need to get on the road. Where are your bags?”

  He’s all business now, as though he wasn’t trying to melt me from the inside out ten seconds ago. And doing a disturbingly good job of it, by the way, although I’d never tell him that.

  “They’re at the front desk.”

  Nixon reaches for my hand. “Then let’s go get ‘em.”

  With my hand engulfed in his larger, rougher one, I realize that Nixon Holt is going to be trouble. Big, big trouble.

  7

  Nixon

  I whistle to the tune of a song on the radio while Haley sits stiffly in the passenger seat. It’s hard to keep from grinning every time I look over at her. It’s probably driving her crazy that I didn’t immediately go along with her decision that this thing between us isn’t going to happen. She doesn’t realize that she threw gasoline on the fire of my attraction to her. I found her oddly intriguing when I first saw her, but now that I’m getting to know more about her, she’s definitely piqued my interest. And that’s probably putting it lightly.

  She makes it to within an hour of the ranch before her curiosity gets the better of her. “So how long have you worked for my father?”

  “I’ve known him for a while, but I’ve only been at the ranch for a couple of months now.”

  She nods slowly, digesting. “What did you do before?”

  “I was at another ranch. I’m sure you know the type.” She probably thinks I’m a ranch hand, and that’s fine. She can think that as long as she wants. It’ll be easier for everyone if she does.

  “Yeah, I definitely know the type.” There’s a hint of disdain in her tone.

  “Bad experience?”

  She turns to look out the window. “You could say that.”

  She falls silent and doesn’t speak again until we reach the ranch. She sighs heavily when we drive under the stone archway that boasts the Circle B emblem. Her expression is even heavier.

  “I don’t know if I should say ‘welcome home’ or give you my condolences.”

  “I don’t either,” she replies quietly.

  Two minutes later, the house comes into view. It’s an impressive place with its stone façade and sweeping arches. It looks as old as the land. Even Haley’s face seems to soften at the sight.

  “Were you born here?”

  “Born and raised.”

  “Been a while since you’ve been back, though, right?”

  She whips her head to look at me. “I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

  “I didn’t. But I know that John’s oldest daughter, Piper hasn’t been home in a while.”

  “I hate that name,” she murmurs.

  “Another bad experience?”

  She turns away again, not answering my question. I guess her reaction speaks for itself. “Then you probably heard the gory details. Around here, everyone knows your business. Everybody thinks they know you. But they don’t. They don’t know anything.” The last she adds in a whisper that practically bleeds emotion.

  I pull through the circular drive and stop in front of the main house. John is sitting in a wicker rocker on the front porch.

  Haley gets out when I do. Her father rises from his seat and awaits her. I get her luggage from the back seat.

  “Look what the cat dragged in,” John teases with a big smile. “Come here and give your old man a hug.”

  Haley steps into arms that wrap quickly around her. “Hi, Daddy,” she greets softly.

  “Missed you so much, Piper.”

  “Please don’t call me that.” Her tone isn’t sharp or insolent, just pleading.

  “Just once, for old time’s sake.” He leans back to look at her. “Don’t you look all grown up? Last time I saw you, your hair was bright blue, I think.”

  “Last time I saw you, yours had color, too.” She plucks at the gray patches of hair at his temples.

  “Old men have gray hair. Four daughters and a few years will do that to a guy.”

  “Especially when the oldest daughter is as rebellious as I was.”

  “You got that from your mother. Made me love you even more. That and your pigtails.”

  He grins and tugs her hair. It isn’t hard to imagine he did the same thing when she was younger.

  The silly gesture seems to break something in Haley. Her chin trembles, and her hazel eyes fill with tears. I should feel like an ass for intruding on such a tender scene between father and daughter, but I can’t bring myself to look away from her. It’s like watching the delicate petals of a beautiful flower open up for the first time.

  “I…I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve been home.”

  John’s expression softens, and he cups her cheek with one hand. “I knew you needed to go, that you needed to be away from here for a while.”

  “But I should’ve come back.”

  “You did. Here you are.”

  “But before now.”

  “I knew you’d come when you were ready.”

  “I swore I’d never set foot on this ranch again, but you didn’t deserve that, Daddy.”

  John folds Haley into a sweet hug, petting her hair as he looks up and meets my eyes. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

  Not at all spoken like the man who’s getting ready to lose everything.

  8

  Haley

  When Dad and I ease apart, I’m left with an old, familiar warmth that I hadn’t realized I missed so much. Dad. Family. Home.

  He smiles, and I return the gesture. “So you met Nixon, I see.”

  Suddenly, I’m keenly aware of a pair of midnight eyes burning a hole right through me. I flash a casual smile in his direction. “Yes, we met.”

  “I’m sure you two will get to know each other much better over the coming days.”

  “And why is that?”

  “You’ll be sharing the cottage.”

  My heart flutters wildly. “Pardon?”

  “We’re having some work done around here, and I had to put Nixon in the cottage.”

  I purposely refuse to look at Nixon. “It’s no problem for me to stay in the main house then.”

  “Well, actually it is because we’re having some work done on the east wing, too.”

  “Then I’ll stay in your office. It’s not a problem.”

  “It is for me. I won’t have my own d
aughter sleeping on a couch like some stranger. The cottage is big enough for both of you to have space and privacy. Nixon is staying in the master, so you’ll have your mother’s whole studio bedroom to yourself.”

  I nod and smile, but say nothing. I’m thinking to myself that I’ll deal with sleeping arrangements later when a smooth voice cuts into my thoughts.

  “I’ll take your bags around to the cottage, so you two can catch up.” I spare a quick glance at Nixon, who seems to be enjoying this immensely.

  I can’t argue at the moment, so I simply nod my thanks. I hear him whistling as he walks away.

  “Who’s home?” I ask my father as we head indoors.

  “Just me. Hannah is catering a wedding in Houston, Harper is looking at real estate in Needville, and Hope’s out taking pictures of the cattle.”

  “I thought Harper was looking for something closer to home?”

  Dad shrugs. “She was, but she couldn’t find anything, so she’s going wider.”

  “She needs to buy Tom Delaney’s store and convert it into a bar.”

  “I’ve told her that, but you know how stubborn she is.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty bullheaded.”

  “Just like her older sister.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not bullheaded.”

  “No? Tell me again why you haven’t been back in ten years.” His tone is light, but I still feel a stab of guilt.

  “It was never that simple, Dad.”

  “I always knew there were things you didn’t tell me. I didn’t press you because I respected your privacy. I just hope you’ve grieved him all you needed to, and we can all be a family again.”

  “We were never not a family. And it wasn’t—” I stop myself. I don’t want to get into this with my father. I never wanted him to know all the details. Jason was like a son to him. The son he never had among his four daughters. Even now, it would kill him to know everything that happened. I muster a smile and settle on, “It was a long time ago.”