Matt: Texas Rascals Book 2 Page 5

  “Forrester, where are you?” Savannah sighed.

  She looked into the brilliant blue sky, rocked back on her heels, tossed a handful of weeds into a pile, and peeled off her gardening gloves. With Julio gone, more of the ranching chores had fallen on her shoulders, leaving her precious little time to prepare for the wedding. Luckily, Ginger’s fiancé, Todd, had volunteered to help get the garden ready for the ceremony on Saturday.

  “Did you say something, Savannah?” Todd asked, resting one well-muscled arm on his shovel and swiping the other arm across his damp forehead.

  “Thinking out loud.” Savannah shook her head.

  “Where do you want these geraniums?” Ginger asked, carrying an armful of the colorful blooms in a clay pot.

  “Along the path.” Savannah got to her feet and pointed with a trowel.

  “Da!” Cody hollered from his Pack ’n Play underneath the shady mimosa tree Savannah had planted to honor Gary’s life.

  Todd squinted at the horizon. “Looks like we got company.”

  “Oh?” Savannah followed his gaze.

  Dust billowed in the distance, and through it, she saw a flash of red. Matt’s Jeep? Instant relief splashed across her heart. Don’t be ridiculous, Savannah scolded herself, a red vehicle did not necessarily mean it was Matt.

  “Good time to take a break.” She planted her palms in the small of her back. “Anybody up for lemonade?”

  “Sounds mighty fine,” Todd agreed.

  “Me, too,” Ginger added, setting down the geraniums.

  “Drinks all around then.”

  From the corner of her eye, Savannah saw Todd lean over and plant a kiss on Ginger’s eager lips. A sliver of envy sliced through her. Oh, to be that young and that in love again.

  She went into the house and washed her hands. She retrieved a pitcher of fresh-squeezed lemonade from the refrigerator, iced down four glasses, arranged everything on a tray, and stepped outside just as Matt’s red Jeep pulled into the driveway.

  It’s him! She thought giddily. If only I could fling myself into his arms! But instead, she set the lemonade down on the picnic table and waited for him to join them.

  As he drew near, her heart hammered. The tan Stetson hid his face. His shoulders swayed as he swaggered across the yard, looking for all the world like the hero in an old-fashioned Western. Affection vaulted into her throat at the sight of him.

  “Afternoon, Ginger, Todd, Savannah,” he greeted, doffing his hat.

  “Hello, Matt,” Savannah said.

  To her dismay, she noticed a fresh cut traveled from Matt’s right brow down his cheekbone. Five neat, black stitches knitted the wound. Her hand flew to her throat, and she sucked in a breath. He’d been hurt!

  “Hi.” Ginger raised a hand. “We were about to have some lemonade. Care to join us?”

  “Sounds good.” He ran a hand through his hair. Savannah could feel the heat of his gaze on her face. She longed to ask him how he’d earned that gash.

  Matt eased himself down on the patio chair as if his whole body ached from the effort of moving. He’d been in a fight.

  “Getting ready for the wedding?” Matt nodded at the freshly tended flower garden.

  “Yeah.” Ginger beamed, pouring lemonade while Todd sat down next to Matt. “Only a week away. I can’t wait.”

  “What happened to your face?” Todd asked bluntly. Ginger nestled next to her husband-to-be and Todd slid an arm around her waist.

  “You mean this?” Matt pointed at the scar. “This is nothing.” He looked at Savannah as if weighing her response.

  Savannah wrapped her fingers around her glass. She yearned to reach out and comfort him, soothe his pain, yet she knew acting on those feelings would land her in a world of hurt.

  “Have a seat,” Matt invited, patting the spot beside him.

  “I’m fine right here.” Savannah leaned against the mimosa’s trunk and placing the sole of one foot flat against the tree’s bark.

  “Did you catch up with Julio?” Ginger asked.

  “Yep.” Matt nodded, and took another long drink of lemonade.

  “And?” Savannah stared at him and raised her eyebrows.

  “Julio’s not a cattle thief, but he does have a way with a switchblade knife.” Matt gingerly fingered the cut.

  Wincing, Savannah grit her teeth. “Julio did that to you?” She felt sick at the thought.

  “That hombre didn’t take too kindly to being arrested.”

  “I can’t believe you’re treating this so lightly,” Savannah said.

  The same emotions she’d experienced so vividly two years ago roiled through her, as raw and as fresh as before. She recalled the night in Kelly’s bar when that drunken cowpoke had started a brawl with another guy over a Jackie Spencer. Matt hadn’t known the cowpoke carried a tiny pistol in his boot and when Matt had gotten in the middle of things to break up the fight, his had earned him a bullet in the arm and started the chain of events that had led them to his moment.

  “Julio didn’t steal the cattle?” Savannah set her glass on the table.

  “Nope.” Matt sent her a cocky grin.

  “So?” She raised her palms. “Why did Julio run if he wasn’t involved in the thefts?”

  “No mystery. Julio thought I was from immigration. My Spanish is limited, and his English is worse. We tussled before we started communicating.” Matt indicated his wound.

  How could he remain so unflustered after having his cheek filleted?

  “Actually, Julio turned out to be pretty cooperative once we got better acquainted.” Matt tipped back on the legs of his chair, balancing his weight perfectly, and teased her with a mocking smile.

  “Is that what you’ve been doing the last week? Tracking Julio?” Savannah asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Among other things.”

  “What about my cattle?”

  “Haven’t seen hide nor hair of ’em.”

  Savannah glanced over to find Todd and Ginger wrapped in the throes of a passionate embrace. Heat raced up her neck when Matt caught the direction of her gaze. She inclined her head toward the barn. “Let’s take a walk.”

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  She started across the yard, Matt right behind her.

  “Think they’ll even notice we’re gone?” Matt whispered, so close the warmth of his breath tickled her ear.

  “Those two had better get married soon, or I’ll be forced to get out the water hose,” Savannah said wryly once they were out of sight.

  “We used to be worse than they are. Remember, Savvy?”

  Her blush deepened, and she stopped walking when they reached the barnyard. “We’re not foolish kids anymore, Matt.”

  “You remember our first date?” He leaned one shoulder casually against the side of the barn. Reaching over, he lifted a strand of hair from her shoulder and rolled it between his fingers.

  Savannah inhaled sharply.

  Their eyes met.

  “Do you remember, Savvy?” he repeated.

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  Boy, did she ever. How could she forget the powerful energy of their first explosive kiss during that hayride at his uncle’s farm? She’d been ready to surrender herself to him at the end of that night. The memory forced her to drop her gaze.

  He swung his Stetson between a thumb and index finger with slow, calculated movements, as if fanning a flame. “Do you remember going back to my place?” His voice had lowered to a deep purr.

  “Uh-huh,” she whispered.

  “I played my guitar for you.”

  “I remember. ‘The Twelfth of Never.’”

  His magnetic eyes held her hypnotized. “We talked about everything under the sun.”

  “I know.”

  “And at midnight ordered a pepperoni and mushroom pizza to go just as Speedy’s Pizza was closing.”

  “We ate it cold because we couldn’t stop kissing,” she finished.

  Tingles radiated fr
om her inside out—steamy, melting, erotic. Paralyzed, Savannah drifted on the memories. Matt, his arms around her, strong and sure. Matt, his lips on hers, soft and tender. Matt, the man himself, so honest, so sincere. She’d known he would always keep her safe, would never hurt her.

  At least not intentionally.

  She’d been the one to hurt him. Not that she’d really had much choice.

  “Do you remember what you asked me, about four in the morning?” His voice turned husky, dry with emotion.

  “I... I... asked if I could stay the night with you.”

  “That’s right.” His smile deepened. He leaned forward, cupping a finger under her chin, and tipping her head back until she was forced to look him in the eyes. “What was my answer?”

  Her knees wobbled, and Savannah feared her legs might fold.

  She cleared her throat and laced her fingers together. His touch burned hotter than a branding iron. “You said no, that we should wait.” She hesitated. “You told me I was too special to take lightly.”

  “You’re still special to me, Savvy.”

  Her gaze, restless and hungry, wandered over his face. She’d dreamed of this dear face for so long—his sun-browned forehead, his slightly crooked nose, his firm, full lips curling easily into a teasing grin, the slight crinkles etched into the corners of his dark eyes.

  And that fresh, jagged scar.

  Savannah jerked back, dropping her gaze. The ugly scar reminded her of the things that stood between them—his thirst for daring adventure, his lack of fear, his need to prove his manhood with fists and weapons, the frustrating way women threw themselves at him. The lies she’d told. The secrets she kept.

  He’d chosen the right career for his personality. He was a brave man, a stalwart one. A good man. A man who deserved to know his son.

  “Savvy?” he rasped.

  Her heart strummed steadily, blood whooshing in her ears with each beat. Was this the time to tell Matt about Cody? How did she start the conversation? Savannah cleared her throat, trying to find the words.

  “I’m sorry about Gary,” he said.

  “Me, too.”

  “Although I was jealous of him, I never wished him ill.”

  “I know.”

  “It must have been hard for you.” The touch of sympathy in his voice grated on her. “Losing your mom, then Gary less than a year afterward.”

  “Life can be hard.” She twisted her shoulder. She knew she sounded tough, cynical, but if she allowed in those tender feelings, she’d break down.

  “I’ve missed having you in my life, Savvy.”

  “I missed you, too.” Her voice cracked, broke.

  “I’d forgotten how your eyes turn to liquid gold when you’re deep in thought,” he said, leaning closer and angling his head downward.

  Instinct hollered for her to pull back, to run away, but for once she listened to her heart and stayed rooted to the sandy earth, waiting.

  Cicadas buzzed in the mesquite tree. A trickle of sweat dampened the back of her neck. She looked into Matt’s shimmering dark-eyed gaze, found herself trapped there like a bug in a spider’s web. She moistened her lips with her tongue.

  “Savannah,” he whispered.

  “Yes?” she whispered back.

  He kissed her.

  6

  His mouth covered hers—hungry, searching. His Stetson dropped to the ground as his arms encircled her shoulders, and he pulled her tight against his chest.

  This isn’t prudent. She should squirm free so she could tell him what she needed to tell him, but she had no inclination to resist. She wanted only to float in the pleasure.

  His heated tongue requested entrance past the barrier of her teeth. His eager fingers stroked her throat. He growled low and insistent, the rough, masculine sound igniting a wildfire deep in the recesses of her aching abdomen.

  “Oh, Savvy,” he exclaimed, letting go of her just long enough to breathe in a gulp of air. “It’s been too long.”

  She surrendered. Fully, unconditionally, without a fight.

  Her weak body was as starved for him as he was for her. She tilted her head back to give him easier access, welcoming his tender invasion, heralding his long-anticipated return, savoring his delicious taste—a provocative combination of peppermint and lemonade.

  A dizzy giddiness swept through her. Time halted, reversed. She felt twenty-three again—young, ripe, ready for his loving.

  Her fingers threaded through his hair as she tugged his head down, down. How had she survived without him, without this, for two lonely years? Unshed tears collected in her throat. She’d made so many mistakes.

  One of Matt’s hands slipped beneath her blouse, caressed her bare stomach.

  Torture, pure torture. She wanted him so desperately, yet she knew she couldn’t have him. Not until she told him the truth, and when she revealed her secret, would he still want her?

  Savannah moaned.

  A sound pricked her ears. A muffled whimper, then a full-blown cry.

  Cody.

  She placed both hands on Matt’s chest and pushed. “No.”

  Matt blinked, disoriented as if he’d been dragged from a heavenly dream into the harsh reality of daylight. “What is it?” he rasped, his dark hair askew.

  “Cody.” She hurried toward the playpen.

  Bending over, she picked up her son, their son, and tried to ignore the throbbing of her kiss-blistered lips.

  Matt came up behind her. “Savvy?”

  She refused to turn around. If she met his gaze, she feared she might burst into tears.

  “I’m sorry, I was completely out of line,” he said.

  She shook her head, unable to speak. No, she’d been the one out of line. She should have told him about his son when she’d first got pregnant. But he’d been gone, and her mother was so sick, and Gary had been there, offering her comfort and support. And when she had gone to see him, he’d been with Jackie Spencer.

  “I didn’t come here to kiss you.”

  “I know,” she squeaked. “It just happened. We best forget it.”

  * * *

  Matt stuck his hands in his front pockets and focused his attention on the tips of his boots. Why had he succumbed to the temptation of her full, lush mouth? He’d sworn he wouldn’t kiss her again and look what had happened. He was a law enforcement officer. He’d been taught strength, restraint, self-control, yet one look into Savannah’s gold-green eyes, and he’d crumbled like a cookie in a glass of warm milk.

  Dammit.

  He yearned to comfort her, to tell her everything was going to be all right, but they weren’t kids anymore. They both knew such words smacked of mindless platitudes. Life just didn’t work that way.

  “Savannah, if you could get me Gary’s ranching records, I’ll conclude my business and be on my way.”

  She nodded and held her shoulders stiff. “They’re in the house. In Gary’s desk.”

  He followed her, feeling woefully inept. They needed to talk, but Matt could not adequately articulate his feelings.

  What had he expected when he’d kissed her? That she would ask him to take her back? That she would renounce her past mistakes, beg his forgiveness, tell him she loved him?

  He snorted. Fairytales.

  Cody smiled at him over Savannah’s shoulder. Such a cute kid. That grin affected him viscerally. Like a penny dropped into a bottomless well, Matt felt himself falling for the little scamp.

  Matt grinned back, his spirits buoyed.

  Savannah led Matt to a bedroom in the back of the house. He glared at the queen-size bed in the corner. Was this the bed she’d shared with Markum? Was this where they’d created Cody? That thought exploded in Matt’s mind like a rocket blast.

  Why was he torturing himself? Forcefully, he pried his gaze from the quilt-covered bed to the slender young woman standing in front of him.

  She burrowed through a scarred, antique, roll-top desk sitting off to one side. It was piled high with scraps of pap
er.

  “I’m afraid it’s a mess.” Savannah cradled Cody’s head in her palm. “I even filed for an extension on my income tax because I couldn’t summon the courage to go through it.”

  She sounded sad. Matt swallowed hard. Had she really loved Gary? Or had she married him on the rebound? Had she experienced with Gary the same wild passion he and she once shared?

  His gaze strayed to the third finger of her left hand. Unexpected joy floated through him. Her ring finger was bare. She’d stopped wearing her wedding band.

  Savannah stepped to the desk, her gently swaying hips causing a stir inside Matt. He had to stop this agonizing self-torture. Averting his gaze, he forced his mind onto the investigation and reviewed the evidence while he waited for her to find the papers.

  One—his prime suspect, Julio Diaz, had been exonerated.

  Two—he’d arrested the three men in San Antonio accused of stealing Kurt McNally’s belt buckle, and they’d readily confessed to robbing the other five ranches, but all four denied knowing anything about the missing Santa Gertrudis herd at the Circle B.

  Three—two local scumbags, Brent Larkins and Hootie Thompson, had been slinging money around Kelly’s and bragging about their sudden wealth. Although the two men might not have burglarized the Circle B, Matt’s instincts told him they’d been up to no good.

  Four—some unknown Santa Gertrudis cattle had turned up in Midland with their brands altered.

  “I think this is what you need.” Savannah’s voice broke into his thoughts as she handed him a thick manila folder.

  “Thank you,” he said, fingering the brim of his Stetson.

  “You’ll let me know when you hear something about my cattle?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  Matt stood there, feeling awkward. Savannah studied her son, evidently as discombobulated as he.

  “Listen,” they both said at once.

  “Go ahead.” Savannah emitted a nervous chuckle. “You first.”

  “I’m sorry about that kiss.”

  “Are you really?”

  “No.”

  “Me, either,” she said, giving him a shy grin from beneath lowered lashes.

  At her words, he felt like a helium balloon let loose to soar into the clouds—free, unfettered, floaty. Did he stand a chance of winning her back?