Cowboy Up (Coming Home #3)

I clear my throat, pull my eyes from the man across the street, and look up at Clayton with a smile. “I will be.”

I can tell he wants to press, but for whatever reason he keeps his silence before kissing my forehead. He then opens the truck door for me and I climb in. I watch as he shuts the door and quickly scans the area around us. I don’t look, not wanting to know if I really saw a blast from my past, but judging by the harsh lines that appear on Clayton’s face, I don’t think John was only a figment of my imagination.

The second he climbs into the driver’s seat and jerks the truck into reverse, I know he saw John. The drive from the diner to Davis ranch isn’t a terribly long one, but with the tension between us getting thicker, it feels like it’s cross-country. The ride only makes me more uneasy, aware that I need to tell him about my past sooner than I wanted. I need to trust what’s growing between us—that the strong connection we’ve felt from day one is worth taking a chance on. I need to start opening up.

“That was my ex,” I whisper to the window, watching the pastures full of cattle pass by.

He lets out a rush of air, and I feel the energy around us get even thicker with tension.

“I was with him for a long time, Clayton.” I speak slowly. “It . . . it wasn’t good.”

“When?”

I finally look over at him, confused by his one-word question. “When what?”

“When did he become your ex?”

“A few years ago, give or take some.” I know exactly how long it’s been. How long I’ve been afraid because of what he did to me in using my fear against me to make my normal, timid nature so much worse. Call me a coward, but I’m not going to go into the depressingly long length of time that it’s been since I’ve been able to get to this place—to move on—if I don’t have to.

His hands tighten on the wheel and a muscle jumps in his jaw, but he doesn’t talk, and I have a feeling there’s something more here. Something that I’m missing.

“John,” I start, but stop immediately when Clayton starts cursing a violent streak, his nostrils puffing out like those of an enraged bull. Not wanting to be the reason he’s mad, I slouch in my seat, unsure if I should continue. His hand leaves the wheel and reaches for mine, taking it in a firm grip and not letting go.

“Finish what you want to tell me, Linney. It’s not you I’m pissed at.”

“You know him well?”

A strangled laugh comes out of his mouth. “Yeah. I know John fuckin’ Lewis pretty damn well.”

“I don’t have a good past where he’s concerned. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

He pulls into the ranch’s driveway, not answering me until we’ve parked close to the front of his beautiful home. He cuts the engine, gets out, and walks around the truck’s hood to open my door. He unbuckles my seat belt and turns me with a gentle grip on my knees before opening my legs and stepping between them, dragging his palms up my thighs to rest under my skirt. I have to push the fog his touch puts in my mind away to focus, because only then does he speak.

“I know him, know him well enough to have a pretty good idea of what you’re gonna tell me. I don’t like it, but that isn’t for you to worry about, darlin’. I don’t want you ever feelin’ like you need to keep somethin’ from me because I won’t like hearin’ it. He’s the ugly you talked about?”

I nod, my chin wobbling and drawing his attention immediately. His fingers tense, but he keeps going.

“I know you didn’t want to talk about this yet. You promised to give it to me when we got serious, but darlin’ I don’t need more dates to tell you I’m already there. I’m not goin’ anywhere because of the shit you went through in your life. No matter what you have to say to me, we’re still gonna be explorin’ us. I don’t want to push you when you aren’t ready, but Linney, there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do to keep you in my life.”

God, this man. How is it possible that we’ve only just started when I feel like my soul was made for his? I shift to get closer and drop my forehead to his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat. His thumbs rub my thighs, soothing and reassuring me.

Trust him.

The thought rushes through my mind and I suck in a breath, lift my head, and give him my ugly.

“I left Pine Oak when I was eighteen. I spent four months before that with John wonderin’ what he saw in me, but not ready to question it and lose him. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t perfect, but he made me feel important and gave me hope that I could have something different than the life I was facing if I stuck around under my mama’s control. So when he promised to get me out of my mama’s house and a whole bunch of other things that he just knew he could give me once we got to Austin, I believed him. I believed all of him. I know now that I naively gave him my blind trust because I felt like he was the only way out.” I inhale and hold the breath deep in my belly for a pause before blowing it out slowly. “It wasn’t all bad. I met Lucy and Luke because of it. I also lost a lot of me in the process though. A lot of me that I didn’t find again for almost six years. He drank excessively, yelled more often than not, and, toward the end, used his fists.”

Clayton’s quiet, but I can see my words are costing him. I give him a look, asking silently if he wants me to keep going. At his nod, I do.

“He got mad about some beer one night and sent me out to get it. Long story short, I got into a pretty bad wreck on the way back. A drunk driver slammed into me and I spent a few months recovering. But it was because of that accident that I was finally able to get away from him. I spent a week in the hospital before Lucy and Luke picked me up. I knew I had my chance and we had it all planned out. They were taking me to their place to finish my recovery and Luke got all my stuff back. It wasn’t until a few weeks after moving in with them that I realized just how good my chances of making a clean break were. The man who hit me worked for some big auto chain and his company wanted to settle out of court. The settlement money was enough for me to come back here and open The Sequel, and I lived in the apartment above it for five years, until the fire.”

“You haven’t dated since?”

“No. I haven’t felt safe until . . . you. I don’t think you’d hurt me, if that’s what you’re thinkin’. Not like him.”

“Fuck me,” he breathes, his forehead dropping to mine. “I don’t deserve someone as sweet as you, Linney. I really don’t. But that’s not gonna stop me from keepin’ you. Words are weak, darlin’, it’s actions that mean somethin’ when it comes to a man’s character. I promise I won’t ever lay a hand on you. My temper can burn bright, sweetness, but never do you need to fear me causin’ you harm like that. We might fight, talk to each other with heat, but I’ll never hurt you. Fuck, Caroline,” he says, his hands framing my face with such gentle reverence I gasp. “How anyone could harm a hair on your head, I’ll never understand.”