Lynnette Kent - The Prodigal Texan

Maybe if she humored him, he’d agree to let her drive him to Homestead’s only motel to sleep off the booze. Or she could take him home, dump him on the bed in the guest room. Her mom wouldn’t mind—she’d always had a soft spot in her heart for handsome, arrogant, uncontrollable Jud Ritter.

Still regretting the absence of comfortable clothes, Miranda shrugged out of her suit jacket and stowed it—along with Jud’s keys—in her truck.

“Aw, don’t go away,” Jud called. “We could have our own class reunion.”

“We didn’t graduate together,” she said, walking toward him. “I got held back twice, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Well, we’re both graduates.” He toasted her with the bottle. “To dear old Homestead High.” Another swig. “So I hear you’re going to save the town single-handed. Like the Lone Ranger.”

She hitched herself onto the tailgate beside him, then took a second to pull her skirt down as far as it would go. “Not single-handed, but I’ve got a plan that could bring people and opportunities back to Homestead.”

“Some kind of land swap?” He was drinking steadily, and she almost wished she could join him, relax a little. Jud had always made her nervous. He’d been everything she wasn’t—handsome as sin, with the physical grace of an athlete and the charisma of a politician. An encounter with Jud in the school hallway had usually left her feeling as stupid and confused as most people thought she was.

She took a deep breath. “A giveaway, actually. People must agree to build on the property, or renovate an existing building, live there for a year, and then they can sell it or continue in residence as the owner.”

“Where do you get the giveaway land?”

That was the touchy part. Miranda swallowed hard. “When the K Bar C Ranch went bust, the county seized the property for back taxes.”

Jud chuckled. “So that’s why my dad is so pissed about you running for mayor. He merged his ranch into that K Bar C investment deal. Now he’s lost the family plot, so to speak.”

“I know.”

“Considering the Ritters have held that land for over a hundred years…” He shook his head. “I think that’s one vote you won’t be getting.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Nah. I gave up any right to the Ritter legacy when I left home. They’re right—I don’t belong here. Thank God.”

He didn’t say anything else for quite a while. The sun dropped behind the hills around them, bringing a quick, cool twilight. Stars popped out one by one, white sparks in a purple Texas sky.

“See, I told you it would be a nice night.” Jud chugged from his whiskey bottle, then let himself fall back in the truck bed. “Great for stargazing. You ever go stargazing, Ms. Mayor?”

“I live on a ranch,” she said without thinking. “I see the stars all the time.”

“No, I mean real stargazing.” His grin was white in the near darkness. “With a guy.”

She felt her cheeks flush with heat. “Not recently.”

“Ever?”

“None of your business.” She scooted forward on the tailgate. “I’m going home.”

Strong fingers closed around her wrist. “Aw, come on.” He pulled backward, but she resisted. “I’m not talking about anything besides watching the sky.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Most of ’em,” he said, and took another swig.

But never to her. Miranda figured she was the only female in Homestead anywhere near his age that Jud Ritter hadn’t gone out with. He’d asked once, or so she’d thought at the time. What a travesty that had turned out to be.

“Relax,” Jud said, his voice now definitely slurred. “Lie back and look at the sky.” He tugged on her wrist again.

Miranda flattened out on the truck bed, feeling every ridge in the liner on her back. “This isn’t a very comfortable place to watch the sky.”

“You get used to it. Sure you don’t want a drink?”

“I have to drive home.”

Jud shrugged. “Up to you.” He took a noisy gulp of whiskey, then handed the half-empty bottle to her. “Do whatever you want to with that. I’m done.”

She held the bottle for a while, fighting the urge to take just one swig. Her experience with liquor consisted of eggnog punch at Christmas and champagne for New Year’s Eve. Plus the occasional long neck beer at a party. But she caught the rich oak aroma from Jud’s breath on the air, and her mouth watered for a taste. Just one.

Finally, though, she put the bottle at her side.

“Not tempting enough?” Jud rolled to face her, elbow bent and head propped on his hand. Full darkness had fallen, but they were close enough that she could see all the details of his face—the straight slant of his nose and the angle of his cheekbones, the shape of his mouth, the spark of laughter in his eyes. “What does tempt you, Ms. Mayor?”

“Pecan pie. Fast food cheeseburgers.”

“Guess you don’t get too much fast food out here in the sticks.”

“Just Bertha’s kolaches.”

“She’s still cooking?”

“Breakfast every day but Sunday.”

“Nothing ever changes.” After a silence, he said, “Do you have weaknesses for something besides food?”

She was beginning to feel drunk herself, listening to his voice, whiskey warm. “Horses. Never met one I didn’t love.”

He rubbed his knuckles up and down her lower arm. “Men, Miranda. Don’t you have a weakness concerning men?”

“Nary a one,” she lied, as goose bumps broke out all over her body. “Haven’t found a man yet I couldn’t live without.”

His fingers touched her cheek. “You just haven’t met the right guy.”

“I’ve met all the men I’m likely to here in Homestead.”

She should sit up, get down, go home. Jud Ritter was bad news, as at least one girl in Homestead had learned the hard way. He was drunk enough to seduce Miranda, for lack of anyone better, but she wasn’t drunk enough to succumb. She didn’t think she could get that drunk without passing out first.

Then he kissed her.

She gasped, tasting the liquor on his breath. And there was more…the firmness of his lips moving gently and deliberately over hers, the faint lime scent of his aftershave. She put up a hand—to stop him?— which came to rest on his shoulder, square and solid under his shirt. Without thought, she lifted her other hand to his hair, running her fingers through the short, sleek strands, pausing to cup the nape of his neck, the curve of his head.

And now they were both involved in the kiss, as he coaxed her response with patience and persistence and—dammit—expertise. She wouldn’t have him thinking she was a total novice, though that might not be far from the truth. By the time she was finished with him, he’d know he’d been kissed….

Somewhere along the way, though, her intentions grew wispy, then evaporated altogether. Mouths fusing, releasing, the clash of teeth. Hands exploring with long, savoring strokes or desperate clutches at sweat-slicked skin. Night air cool on heated bodies pressed ruthlessly together. Tension building, desire pounding in her veins. This, this was the reason she’d waited. He was the reason….

“Jud.” She whispered his name, and he stopped his exquisite torture of her breasts to look into her face. She saw his eyes focus.

In the next instant, he took his hands off her body and jerked away. Choking, growling like a rabid wolf, he partly fell, partly jumped out of the truck bed, hit the ground on his hands and knees and stayed there, swearing.

Miranda lay on her back where he’d left her, staring up at cold stars in a black sky, her mind an absolute blank.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jud dragged himself to his feet using the edge of the tailgate. “You let just any sonofabitch maul you?”