Sasha Summers - Twins For The Rebel Cowboy

Annabeth ended the kiss, shaking her head. “Ryder...” she gasped, her voice unsteady.

How could he make this better? He smoothed her hair, but couldn’t look at her. He didn’t know what to do. But he knew he needed to do something.

“Ryder?” There was already regret in her voice, he heard it.

“Annabeth—” But that was all he managed to whisper. What could he say? He was banging his dead best friend’s wife in the cab of his truck. His head fell back against the seat. He’d ruined everything—like he always did. “Shit,” he murmured, still gasping for breath. As soon as the word slipped out, he knew he’d sent the situation from bad to worse.

She tried to climb off his lap but wavered, her skirts pinned beneath him. He caught her, cradling her close and breathing in her scent. He wasn’t used to feeling uncertainty, or panic. But something about her pushing away from him, almost as if she couldn’t bear his touch, filled him with bone-deep loss. He pulled her skirts free and let her go, watching her smooth her clothing into place. She sat stiffly at the end of the bench seat, looking just as dazed and confused as he felt.

He started the truck, adjusting his clothes as discreetly as possible. His mind worked overtime, looking for something to say to break the silence filling the cab of his truck.

“Why...were you here?” she asked, running her fingers through her long golden hair.

“Jasper called.”

She glanced at him. “Who?”

“The mechanic here. One that towed your car in? He told me what kind of car had slid off the highway and I knew it had to be you...your car. Figured you’d need help...or be stranded.” Greg’s car. No one else drove a midnight-blue 1967 Impala in this part of Texas. Which meant Annabeth, maybe Cody, was involved. Greg’s wife. Greg’s family. He swallowed, clearing his throat. She didn’t need to know the phone call had scared the shit out of him. He’d left all his lights on, and the door to his apartment was probably open. “I’ll have to order parts for Lady Blue.” Best thing about Greg’s car, it was all metal. He didn’t want to think about what might have happened to Annabeth if she’d been driving anything else. “Glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.” She was using her principal voice now, never a good sign.

“On your way to get Cody?” he asked. She didn’t say anything, so he risked a glance her way. She was staring out the window, nodding. So she wasn’t going to talk to him. Fine. Why should he expect her to? He’d just taken advantage of her. In his truck cab. He shook his head, his hold tightening on the steering wheel.

What the hell was he thinking? Hadn’t he screwed up enough relationships in his life? Annabeth wasn’t just another woman, she was his friend. And he didn’t have many of those.

He glanced at her, wishing he had the words to fix this. Instead, he got caught up in how damn pretty she was. Pretty and smart and funny. Good and innocent and sweet. He stared straight ahead, turning the windshield wipers up.

Annabeth Upton was the marrying type, not the one-night-stand type. He called her Princess to remind him of that. Didn’t work tonight. He’d broken his promise to Greg and jeopardized one of the only friendships that mattered to him.

He hit ice several times, but he kicked his truck into 4x4 mode with no problems. It took twice as long to get back to Stonewall Crossing. By the time they turned into Annabeth’s neighborhood, the ice had turned to snow.

He pulled into her driveway, leaving the truck running and the lights on. “Let me check the power.” He held his hand out for her keys. All it took was a hard rain and half of the small town lost power. An ice storm could be downright crippling.

She put the keys in his hand, barely looking at him.

He slammed the truck door behind him and hurried up the first two steps of the porch, slipped and landed, hard, on his butt.

“You okay?” Her voice was laced with unmistakable laughter.

“Yeah, yeah,” he answered, sliding as he managed to stand. “Laugh it up, Princess.” But, sore butt and all, he’d rather she was laughing than giving him the silent treatment.

He made sure the tiny house had electricity and the faucets were working before heading back to the front door.

Annabeth stood just inside. She looked at him, blushed and then hung her coat on one of the pegs behind the door. “Sorry you had to go out in that.”

“Nothing else to do,” he shrugged. Which was a piss-poor thing to say. He’d gone because it was her—period.

She rolled her eyes. She’d been rolling her eyes since he could remember. It always made him smile.

“Good damn thing, too, or you’d have ended up alone at Ned’s place.” His shoved his hands into his pockets. “Troy Clark is bad news, Annabeth.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he snapped. “You don’t know what kinda guy he is.”

“Maybe. But I didn’t end up with my skirts around my ears in his truck tonight, did I?” She flopped into a chair, covering her face in her hands. “I can’t believe...” She shook her head. “I... I...”

He stared at her then, murmuring, “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t enough. His good intentions didn’t matter. He hadn’t stopped things from getting carried away. Instead, he’d held on to her for dear life, wanting her so bad it hurt. What was worse, he knew he’d do it again if he could. Only this time he’d love her the way she should be loved, take his time, in bed, and worship every inch of her.

“Ryder?” She looked up at him. Her huge hazel eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

If she cried, he’d be useless. He knew what needed to happen next. “It was sex, Annabeth, that’s all.” Damn fine sex, in his mind. “Best if we pretend tonight didn’t happen.” No matter how hard that might be for him.

She sniffed, nodding.

But then an awful realization occurred to him. “You’re on the pill, right?”

Annabeth went completely white, then red, her hands fisting in her lap. “No. No, I’m not. Because I’m a widow. A widow with a five-year-old. I haven’t...since Greg died. So no.”

It was Ryder’s turn to sink into a chair. “Shit.”

“You already said that once.” She stood, paced into the kitchen, then back. “Why didn’t you use something? I mean, you’re you.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t think... I never thought we’d...” He broke off, words failing him. “It’s you.”

“What does that mean, it’s me?” Her hands were on her hips. “You were all over me.”

“I was trying to get you out of there—”

“For sex.”

He shook his head.

“But...but you kissed me,” she argued, a range of emotions crossing her face. She stopped pacing, to glare at him. “Wait, back up. You came to get me because Jasper called. Then you saw me with Troy and went all caveman? Is that what you’re saying? You didn’t want Troy to have me, but you didn’t want me—” She broke off, red-faced and trembling.

He didn’t say a thing. She was right. Initially, that was what had happened. He opened his mouth, took one look at her, and closed it again.

“So, I was this pathetic—” Her voice broke. “You were trying to stop some sleazy hook-up guy and I—I forced myself on you?”

“You didn’t force anything.” But now wasn’t the time to tell her he’d always wanted her. “Annabeth—”

She held her hand up. “I really appreciate the ride home, Ryder, but I need you to go.”

“Wait.” He gripped her shoulders. “What if you are preg—”

“Do not finish that sentence.” Annabeth glared up at him. “It’s just...sex, right? Tonight didn’t happen. You picked me up and brought me home. The end.”