Rough and Ready (More Than A Cowboy Book 2) Read online

  The guys who’d assaulted me in the elevator had waited two years for payment from Cam, and he’d go to any lengths to stay alive. He’d given me to them once, and I knew he’d do it again.

  I’d have to let Reed go. It wouldn’t be hard. We’d never really been together anyway. Just an emotional moment on my part. Sitting on his lap for an orgasm was what teenagers did. It was quick. Meaningless. And the phone calls, the texts? The sexting? A crush. Nothing more.

  I wanted to believe all that, but it was all bullshit. Bullshit so my heart wouldn’t hurt as much as I realized I’d somehow fallen for him. I thought of Reed’s face, the intense blue eyes, the rarely given smile. The rough hands, yet gentle touch. I swallowed back the ball of tears lodged in my throat.

  I’d take the job in London. They’d offered again while I was there. It would be easy. I was all packed. My suitcase, even my apartment. I just had to deal with HR at the university. I could be settled before the next term started. I’d be safe. No one could get to me with an ocean in the way. Even Reed. I just had to stay away from him until I moved again.

  Easy.

  I just had no idea how I was going to do that.

  17

  REED

  I woke up at the usual time before dawn, even though I’d turned my alarm off just so I could sleep in. For once. Merry Christmas to me. Instead of rolling out of bed, I rolled over.

  Four hours later, the apartment was bright, even though the sky was heavy with gray clouds. Reaching an arm out, I grabbed my phone from beside the bed, looked for a text from Harper.

  Nothing. Sighing, I ran my hand down my face, wiped the sleep away—and the frustration.

  I was whipped. Fuck, this girl had me wrapped around her little finger. And I wanted to be whipped. I wanted her. Where the fuck was she and why wasn’t she answering my damn texts? She hadn’t responded at all yesterday. And today was Christmas, dammit. It wasn’t like her. Not lately. I’d gotten her to open up. Hell, I’d gotten her to sext.

  She’d refused to do phone sex, which was fine, although my balls didn’t agree. I’d come up with the stupid idea of texting instead. She’d gone for it. I hadn’t heard her little pants before she came, the way she would call out my name, but it had been better than nothing. She knew I was a bossy fuck in bed, or in a text, and had liked it.

  For long distance sexting, it had been tame. Hell, she’d still had her fucking panties on. I just told her to make herself come. That was it. I hadn’t talked dirty to her, told her what I’d do to her once I got my hands on her. None of it.

  Harper wasn’t a virgin, but she acted innocent with me. As if someone may have had her body before, but she was giving me more. All of her.

  She knew how I felt about us… this, knew it was special. I’d even used that word. Yet she wasn’t calling me. The plane flight wasn’t that long. The last time we’d talked, she’d said soon. We needed to have a chat about the definition of fucking soon.

  I climbed from bed and went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth thinking about what she’d told me. How she’d lost her virginity at thirteen. I spit in the sink, rinsed it down. Fucking rape.

  I found some workout clothes in the laundry basket, tugged them on. Dropped to my bed to tie up the laces on my running shoes. It didn’t matter that it was Christmas. I had a fight in two weeks, and I needed to run. Especially if I was eating Emory’s mashed potatoes later. And pumpkin pie.

  I shoved my hat on, tucked my earbuds in, got my music blasting and set off. Five miles later, my legs were tired, and I was sweating, even though it was below freezing. I stripped off my hat and my jacket, went to the kitchen for a drink of water to take some time to cool down before I showered. It made no sense to do it right away because I’d still be sweating when I was done and have to take another.

  As I grabbed a glass from the cabinet, I heard water running. Not loud as if coming from my bathroom, but through the walls. On occasion, I heard it, the pipes coming from Gray’s apartment ran behind the center wall. While the building was solid, if I paid attention, it was noticeable. Like now. I had to think Gray had stayed tucked in bed with Emory, savoring a quiet holiday morning with his girl. It made me think of Harper. If she were here and in my bed, I sure as hell wouldn’t get out of it for anything. Especially not a five-mile run.

  I took the stairs down from Gray’s and Emory’s apartment. While it was only one flight, I felt the fifteen steps or so might help work off the three pieces of pumpkin pie and the pound of mashed potatoes. I hadn’t eaten that much in a while and besides feeling stuffed, I was sleepy. I had the plaid flannel Emory had gotten me tossed over my shoulder. It was from her and Gray, but I’d spent most of my waking time with Gray recently and knew he hadn’t gotten anywhere near the mall to pick it out.

  Standing in the concrete stairwell only made me think of Harper. Where she was, what she was doing. Maybe she’d gone to her parents, spent Christmas Eve with them and stayed. Her car wasn’t in the lot—I’d checked like a fucking stalker. I pulled my phone from my pocket, scrolled to her name. Dialed. I went out into the second-floor hallway, grabbed my key from the long chain about my neck to open my door. I heard a faint ring, but it wasn’t coming from my apartment. I didn’t have a landline. It was coming from Harper’s. I glanced at her door, walked toward it. I looked at my phone, saw it was still connected, but she didn’t answer. I ended the call.

  The ringing stopped. I pressed her name again. I heard the ringing again. I knocked on the door. Waited.

  “Harper,” I said, knocking again.

  Nothing.

  I called her a third time. The ringing came again.

  I banged louder. “Harper. Open the door.”

  I started to freak, coming up with all kinds of shit scenarios. She’d fallen in the shower and hit her head. She’d gotten the flu and was too sick to get to the door. There was no way I was going to let this go. I had to know she was all right.

  “Harper!” I made a fist and banged it against the door. “I hear your phone ringing. Let me in or I’m going up to Gray’s to get the key.”

  I heard the bolt turn first, then she opened the door.

  My heart settled back into place. “Jesus, you scared me.” I said that without really looking at her, but when I met her gaze, I stepped into her apartment, forcing her to step back.

  I frowned. She kept her grip on the door, held it open, used it as a shield between us.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. I wanted to grab her, pull her into my arms, but the last time I’d done that, she’d sobbed in my lap. Of course, I’d also made her come, so I was torn. I wanted to do that again, but instead of being mad like she had been last time, she looked… cut open. Her hair, usually sleek and long, was up in a sloppy bun. She had no makeup on, and dark smudges marred her gorgeous eyes. While it was December and everyone was pale in Colorado, she looked sickly.

  She cleared her throat. “Nothing.”

  “Are you sick?” I asked, reaching my hand out to touch her forehead, but she stepped back, pulling the door with her. I saw more of the hallway than I did of her. I could see a sliver of an old sweatshirt and pink plaid flannel pajama pants. Thick socks were on her feet. It was the least sexy outfit I could imagine on a woman. Every bit of her curves was hidden beneath the heavy layers, but she looked hot to me. It just made me want to unwrap her to see what was beneath.

  She shook her head, loose strands of her hair swirling about.

  “When did you get back?”

  “This morning.” Her voice was flat.

  “I thought maybe you were with your parents or something.”

  “No.”

  I frowned.

  “Why didn’t you let me know you were home? I was just up with Gray and Emory. You could have joined us.”

  “I was tired from the trip.”

  “Why don’t you come over to my apartment? I don’t have much, but I can make you some toast and tea. I won’t burn that.”

  She didn’t
even smile at my shit cooking skills.

  “We can take a nap together.” The idea of climbing into my bed and wrapping her in my arms sounded like heaven. If we were naked while doing it, so much the better.

  “No. It’s best if you go.”

  I took a step toward her, but she held up a hand, and I stopped. The last thing I wanted to do was spook her.

  “Please.” I couldn’t miss the frantic tone of her voice, the wildness of her eyes.

  I glanced into her apartment. It looked as if she hadn’t touched any of her boxes or furniture since the movers dropped it off when she moved in. There were no pictures on the wall, no lamps lit to fight off the growing darkness outside. She had been away, but I didn’t even see a TV.

  “You’re just going to spend Christmas alone?” I’d enjoyed the afternoon with Gray and Emory, her son Chris. Even her old neighbor, Simon, came to watch football and eat. They were more family than any blood relatives I ever had. But seeing Harper like this, something bothering her and alone, pissed me off. Not at her, but she shouldn’t be by herself. No one should be alone on Christmas.

  “Yes.”

  I shook my head. “Princess, I can’t let you do that. Come over, yeah? Besides, I’ve got a present for you.”

  It wasn’t much, something silly really, but I couldn’t not get her something.

  She shook her head even harder now. “No. I’m going to sleep. It’s seven hours ahead, and I’ve been up forever.”

  “That’s not it.” It wasn’t.

  She pinched her lips together into a thin line.

  “After all the phone calls, the texts, you’re going to shut me out?”

  I watched her throat as she swallowed, blinked hard. Looked over my shoulder. Anywhere but at me. “You should go. I’m… I’m taking a job in London. It would be best if we ended… it now.”

  I felt as if I’d been kicked in the gut with a wicked side kick.

  “It?”

  “Our—” She cleared her throat. “—friendship.”

  “That’s what you think this is?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was damn hard. I didn’t want to scare her, but I was practically vibrating with frustration. “A simple friendship?”

  I could see it in her eyes, knew she was right there with me, but something was up.

  “Did someone hurt you?”

  She looked away. Not like before when her eyes glanced around, but she turned her head to the side, blocking me out.

  “Harper. What the fuck happened?” Yeah, I hadn’t meant to swear, but if I touched her, she might freak. I had to let my frustration out somehow, like a slow bleed. Someone had hurt her, but she wouldn’t say. “Tell me.”

  “No. You need to go.”

  My gaze raked over her, but the only skin I could see was her face and neck, her hands. “Did someone touch you? Professor Arm Patch?”

  “No!” she said, her voice finally full of life. It was anger, but it was something.

  I took a deep breath, let it out. “Someone hurt you in England, and you’re going to take a job over there?”

  The idea of her going back overseas made me want to rip the fucking door off and pull her into my arms to let her feel how it could be when we were in the same room. When she was pressed against me, she could hear my heart beating out of control.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Then tell me.”

  I watched as her grip tightened on the doorknob as if it were the only thing keeping her from coming to me. “No. You need to go. Thank you for… being there for me. I won’t bother you anymore.”

  “Bother me? You think you’re bothering me?” I groaned, ran a hand through my hair, then stepped toward her.

  She pointed to the hallway. “Go.”

  Her control was slipping. I could see it. Somehow, I knew every little nuance of her, even when she was putting up a fucking brick wall. With razor wire across the top.

  “Fine. I’m going, but this isn’t over.”

  I stepped into the hallway, trying to think of something to say to get her to open up, to tell me what the hell was going on. She finally lifted her eyes to mine. There, I saw hurt. Desperation. Need. Longing.

  It was in her eyes and in my heart. I’d opened up to her, to someone, and she was pulling this shit. Fuck no. She was the first person who I’d connected with, who I cared about, and she was shutting me out? I wanted this to work. Needed it to because I needed her. Hell, having her reject me now felt worse than any beating I’d taken, whether in the ring or in a dank alley.

  “Harper—”

  I lifted my hand to reach out to her, but I yanked it back when she slammed the door in my face.

  18

  HARPER

  I cried. I’d thought I’d been alone before, but when I shut Reed out of my apartment, it felt as if I’d put more than just a door between us. He’d told me on the phone there was more to this… this thing between us. He hadn’t even wanted a relationship at first, and then he’d changed his mind. Reed, the guy who had ring girls tossing their panties at him, wanted me. Me! Somehow, even being across the Atlantic, he’d changed his mind. Wanted something real.

  The first guy ever who wanted me for more than a quick fuck, and I pushed him away. All because of Cam. I couldn’t risk Reed getting hurt because of me. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to him. I could live with knowing he was safe. Barely. I’d leaned against the door, ensuring I didn’t rip it open and run to Reed, tell him I was sorry and jump into his arms. I slid to the floor, sat there and just cried. Cried like I had when I’d escaped from the elevator two years ago.

  I’d told Reed I didn’t cry, that there weren’t any tears left. I’d been wrong. So wrong.

  My cell rang again. I looked up, knew it was sitting on a small table by the door. Traitor. Reed had heard it, knew I was home. My heart leaped at the idea of it being Reed, so I scrambled to grab it.

  It wasn’t him. Some local number I didn’t recognize. I pressed Ignore, then scrolled through the missed calls. Nine of them. Two had been from Reed just a little while ago, but before that. More.

  Cam. And he hadn’t called on Christmas to wish me a happy holiday.

  It had to be him. If the guys from the airport said I should give Cam what he wanted, then he’d be calling me to get it. Especially now that he was out of jail.

  The ringing stopped. But he wouldn’t. Cam wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted from me. Money. It was all about the damn money. I could just give it to him, make him go away. But he wouldn’t. He never would. He’d used me his whole life.

  I thought about what I’d told Reed, about my first time. I hadn’t thought much of it, not until I’d spoken the words aloud. I remembered. Cam had given me to his friend. For sex. I just had to wonder if Cam owed him too, and I’d been payment. Even at thirteen.

  I rubbed my arms, a coldness settling over me. Cam had pimped me out, just like he had two years ago. Reed had seen it right away, but I hadn’t. Maybe I’d blocked it out, made it less than what it was to save my sanity. But that was gone now. Everything was gone now.

  Somehow, I crawled to my bed, tossed the covers over my head. Wallowed. Cried some more. Darkness settled over the apartment, but I was afraid to turn on the light, worried that the guys from the airport were outside, looking up and maybe wanting to get to me. At some point, I fell asleep. I didn’t dream, didn’t even stir, perhaps thanks to jet lag. While I’d slept hard, I woke up before five, wide awake. The time change was messing with me, and I knew it would for several days. It was still dark, and I was still afraid to turn on my lights.

  Between semesters, there wasn’t any work to do. No papers to grade, no meetings to attend. I couldn’t even go into HR and resign. All the offices were closed until after New Year’s. I thought of Reed, just a wall away. Wondered what he thought of me. How was I going to face him? To know he wanted something more, and I’d have to lie, to have him hate me to keep him away from me. If those goo
ns saw me with him… I shuddered at what they might do.

  I had to do something, or I’d go stir crazy. I’d lose my mind. Worse, I’d cry some more. Grabbing some workout clothes from the pile on the floor, I got dressed, put on my running shoes. Without looking toward Reed’s apartment door, I ran down the emergency stairs and to the gym. The front desk opener looked up when I came in. He was just turning on the computer, having just opened at five. Since early morning wasn’t my usual workout time, I’d never seen him before. I introduced myself, grabbed a towel, and went over to the row of treadmills. I put my earbuds in, set the program and began, lost myself in the rhythm of the music, the pace of my feet slapping against the moving belt.

  Gray stepped into my line of sight, carefully as not to scare me. He was dressed to work out. Outside. Running pants, a fleece pullover, a black skull cap instead of his Stetson. None of it hid his fighter physique or the hours he spent working out along with his clients. With Reed. His pale eyes met mine, and he waited patiently for me to tug out my earbuds, push the buttons to slow down to a walk.

  “We’re going for a run outside. Join us.”

  I glanced over my shoulder. The gym had a few people working out on the machines. I could see a yoga class in the private room, everyone sitting cross legged, their back twisted to the right. But I didn’t care about any of that when my eyes latched onto Reed. I almost stumbled at the sight of him, dressed for the weather as well and leaning against the front desk.

  “I’m good here,” I said. I was warmed up, my skin damp with sweat.

  He shook his head. “We need you to set the pace. Push us. Three miles.” He offered me a slight smile. “You can do that without breathing hard.”

  He glanced down at the display on my treadmill. I followed his gaze, saw I’d already gone almost three already.

  The way he looked at me, I felt as if I couldn’t say no. As if I were one of his clients. I wasn’t. Far from it. I ran from a fight. As I told Reed, I ran from everything. I hadn’t talked with Gray much, only met him with Emory last month to see the apartment and to sign the lease. And then pizza with them and Reed.