Lisa Jackson: Secrets and Lies: He's A Bad Boy / He's Just A Cowboy

Rachelle had met Roy only a couple of times—when she’d had to interview him for the school paper. She was probably the only girl in the entire school who didn’t have a crush on him.

Ignoring the apprehension that followed her like a cloud, she wended her way through the parked cars, careful of the vehicles backing up and trying to find a way out of the crowded lot.

The night was muggy, the clouds overhead dark and threatening rain. Over the odors of exhaust and hot engines, a thinner smell, of stale beer and cigarettes, wafted on the breeze that rustled the dry leaves dancing across the asphalt.

The Corvette’s glossy red finish shone under the glow of the security lights. Roy, the crown prince of Fitzpatrick Logging, was seated behind the wheel, his toe tapping restlessly on the throttle, the powerful car’s engine thrumming anxiously.

Scott McDonald, one of his friends, sat in the passenger seat and Erik Patton leaned against the fender of his metallic blue pickup.

“Roy wants to take us for a ride,” Laura said as Rachelle approached. She tossed her a triumphant glance, as if she’d caught a prize all the girls in town were wanting.

“Where?” Rachelle asked, feeling suddenly awkward. Though Roy and his friends were only two years older than she, they seemed so much more mature.

“Remember I told you I knew someone with a cabin on the lake?” Laura reminded her.

The Fitzpatricks did have a home at Whitefire Lake, but, in Rachelle’s estimation, it was hardly a cabin. The house had to be four or five times the size of the small cottage in which she’d grown up. But then Laura had grown up with higher standards. Both her parents worked and she’d never had to go without anything she really wanted.

And now, from the looks of things, Laura wanted Roy Fitzpatrick. As if reading Rachelle’s hesitation, she said, “Come on, Rachelle, why not?” Her eyes were bright and eager as she sneaked a peek at Roy.

Roy tossed them all—Rachelle, Laura and Carlie—his well-practiced all-American smile. His wheat-blond hair was clipped short, his athletic physique visible beneath the thin layer of yellow cotton in his polo shirt. “Yeah, why not, Rachelle?” Roy said, his gaze moving slowly up Rachelle’s body with a bold familiarity that caused her stomach to turn over.

She swallowed hard. Until the past couple of weeks since she’d begun hanging out with Laura, not many boys had noticed her, and certainly not older college boys who practically owned the whole town.

“Yeah, why not?” Carlie chimed in. “We already planned to ditch the dance.”

Laura had told Rachelle that if the dance was boring they’d go out cruising around town, maybe drive over to Coleville as none of the girls were dating anyone special from Gold Creek, then return to her house for a sleepover. But she’d never once mentioned going to the lake with Roy and his friends.

Rachelle hesitated. Everyone was staring at her. “Still the prude?” Roy taunted, and Rachelle’s cheeks flamed. How would Roy know anything about her?

“I told my mom we’d be at the dance—”

“So?” Roy cut in a little irritably. “What your mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Laura shot her a scathing glance. “We already worked out our story, Rachelle.”

Rachelle bit her lip. This was her chance. She’d always been considered a “brain,” a girl who’d rather study or work on the school paper or paint scenery for the drama club than show any interest in boys. But lately, with Laura’s help in the makeup and hair department, boys had been calling and asking her out. She liked the feeling. But she didn’t trust Roy.

“Well, what’s it gonna be?” Roy asked, his smoldering blue eyes touching hers. “A mama’s girl—or ya gonna have some fun? We can’t wait around here all night.”

“That’s right,” Erik agreed, glancing over his shoulder. His vintage truck didn’t compare to Roy’s sleek machine, but the Pattons didn’t have the kind of money that had been passed down from one generation of Fitzpatricks to the next. As long as there had been people in Gold Creek, there had been money in Fitzpatrick hands.

“Come on,” Carlie urged.

“Yeah, let’s go with the guys,” Laura agreed, smiling at the three college boys. She fanned herself with her fingers. “It’s so hot tonight. The lake would be great.”

Roy flashed his rich-boy grin—a slow-spreading smile that had been known to melt the most formidable ice maiden’s resistance.

Laura leaned against the fender of the Corvette, her hands braced against the gleaming hood of the car, her heavy breasts outlined against her sweater. “I know I would love a ride.”

“That’s more like it. I was beginnin’ to think that you girls were afraid,” Roy drawled, his blue eyes flickering devilment at Rachelle. He pushed the throttle with his toe and the Corvette’s engine rumbled eagerly.

“Yeah, come on, we’ll show you a good time,” Scott agreed. Whereas Roy was blond and blue-eyed, the all-American boy, Scott was shorter, more muscular and had thick brown hair and freckles.

Erik, unlike Scott and Roy, didn’t seem as interested in Laura or her friends. “Let’s get outta here,” he grumbled. “There’s no action. Everybody’s takin’ off.”

He was right. The line of cars that had been streaming from the stadium lot had dwindled to a trickle. Even some of the boys from the team, freshly showered, were climbing into vehicles and heading back to the school for the postgame dance, the dance Rachelle had promised her mother she’d attend before spending the night with Laura. But Laura, it seemed, was only interested in Roy Fitzpatrick.

“There’s action here,” Roy replied, sliding a cocksure glance Rachelle’s way. “All the little ladies have to do is say ‘yes.’ We’ll guarantee them the ride of their lives.”

“Now what kind of ride are you talking about?” Laura asked in a sexy voice, and Rachelle nearly choked.

Scott chuckled deep in his throat, and Erik looked embarrassed.

Rachelle was flabbergasted by Laura’s behavior. The girl was asking for trouble, more trouble than Rachelle thought she could handle.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Rachelle said, feeling Roy’s hot gaze on her. She didn’t want to be a wet blanket, but she could smell trouble. A walk on the wild side.

“Loosen up,” Carlie said in a soft whisper. “When do you ever get a chance to go joyriding with Roy Fitzpatrick?”

“Three of us, three of you—we could have a party,” Roy said.

“A private party?” Laura replied, flirting outrageously. Rachelle wanted to drop through the pavement, but she didn’t move. There was no place to go. By now the parking lot was nearly empty. Except for a lone motorcycle rider astride his thrumming machine.

Rachelle’s heart nearly stopped as she recognized Jackson Moore. He parked his bike about twenty yards away and didn’t move. Just sat there…waiting, the Harley’s engine idling loudly, the growl of a metallic beast.

Roy blanched at the sight of him. “Get lost, Moore,” he yelled, but Jackson didn’t flinch.

Rachelle couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“We didn’t finish our discussion the other day,” Jackson said, and his lips curled into a sardonic smile as he rubbed the bruise beneath his eye.

“We’ve got nothing to talk about,” Roy replied testily. “Get out,” he muttered to Scott McDonald, reaching over his friend and flinging the passenger door open. An old Doors song blared into the night.

Jackson didn’t let up. Over the rumble of engines and Jim Morrison’s deep-throated lyrics he yelled, “You and that old man of yours keep insulting my family.”

Roy pretended not to hear. As Scott climbed out of his car, Roy crooked a long finger at Laura. “Let’s go,” he said. He took up the conversation where it had been dropped. “You said you’re lookin’ for a private party, well you found one. Hop in.” His gaze moved quickly up and down Laura’s curves as she climbed into the convertible. Roy’s mouth twitched. “Now that’s what I like—a girl who knows her own mind.”