Taming Him Read online

  ALEX

  THREE MONTHS LATER…

  The rain won’t stop coming, and by the looks of the forecast, the rest of the week will be exactly like today. I’m cold, wet, and miserable, and no amount of rain gear helps me stay dry. By the time Dylan and I break for lunch, we’re soaked from head to toe.

  “This fucking sucks,” Dylan complains as we slosh through the mud toward the truck. Once we’re inside, the rain pounds so hard against the windshield, I can’t see shit. I put the truck in reverse, and the wheels do nothing but spin. No amount of pressing the gas pedal is getting us unstuck at this point. I look over at Dylan, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Guess we’re walking back to the house. Dammit,” I hiss between gritted teeth.

  I keep the truck running and try to warm up my frozen hands.

  “Let’s call Jackson to come get us in the Jeep. It has 4-wheel drive at least, and we won’t have to walk over a mile in this crap. It’s cold as hell out there.”

  “Good idea,” I say, grabbing my phone from my pocket. Jackson’s probably doing nothing right now anyway, so I don’t even feel guilty bothering him. During the day, he usually trains horses and takes guests trail riding, among other things. When the weather is shit like this, he doesn’t really have much to do.

  A: Hey, the truck is stuck and we need a ride back. Can you give us a lift?

  * * *

  J: Busy.

  * * *

  A: Don’t be an asshole. We’re stuck at the barn in mud to our fucking knees.

  Just as I’m about ready to call John, he texts me back to let me know he’s on the way. Bastard just likes to make me sweat.

  “He’s coming. Thought he was gonna let us deal with this shit on our own,” I tell Dylan, shoving my phone back into my pocket.

  “If he did that to us, I’d kick his ass. Or tell your mama. I think the latter would be worse, though. Mrs. Bishop’s wrath is frightening as fuck!”

  Chuckling while agreeing, I lean my head against the seat and watch the rain slide down the windshield. It’s a nice distraction but doesn’t keep my mind from wandering.

  It’s been three months since Key West, and I haven’t been able to forget the time I spent with River. At the oddest moments, I’ll think about her and wonder what she’s doing. I’ll relive our last day together over and over, wondering why she never called me. I knew the deal and that it was just supposed to be a vacation hookup, but I hadn’t expected her to bulldoze into my heart the way she did. It hadn’t been like anything I’d ever experienced before and knowing she chose to end things the way she did has me obsessing over every little detail.

  If I dig deep, I can almost smell her shampoo or hear her laugh. My heart aches when I think about how she really left everything we shared back on that island. I could’ve sworn there was something more between us than just the physical stuff. I felt it and know she did too, whether or not she wants to admit it. Hands down, I would’ve taken a million-dollar bet that she would’ve called me as soon as she read my note. To her, we were nothing but two lonely strangers and a vacation bucket list.

  “You’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Dylan smirks, giving me shit like he has almost every day since the plane landed in Texas.

  “Something like that,” I groan. When I talk about her, it makes all the memories I’ve buried over the last few months rise to the surface. How the hell did I end up in this state of mind? Women don’t usually affect me like this. But River was different. She was a bad girl pretending to be good, a thief who stole my heart without warning. The intentions of giving it back never existed, and what makes it worse is I never saw it coming. I never saw her coming. Being completely blindsided by the memory of her soft kiss, warm touch, and everything we experienced is no stranger to me. Now that’s all that remains. The memories of us.

  “You’re doing it again. You get this look on your face every time you have River on your mind. It’s kinda disgustin’. Like a love sickness or something.” He pretends to throw up in his mouth.

  “I don’t wanna hear about it, considerin’ you’re still talking to Jessica—who lives in New York, by the way—every single night. So disgustin’ is your middle name.”

  Dylan takes a deep breath, getting ready to tell me where to go, but before he does, a fist bangs against the passenger window. We both jump, and Jackson’s on the other side laughing his ass off as the rain pours around him in buckets. Once we’re out of the truck and in the Jeep, that’s when the shit talkin’ really begins.

  “The truck was all fogged up like you two were makin’ love in there,” Jackson teases, putting the Jeep in reverse, slinging mud everywhere. “Only thing missing was that palm print on the window like in Titanic.”

  “Fuck off,” I tell him. “Dylan’s not really my type anyway.”

  “I’ll never let go, Jack. I mean, Dylan,” Jackson continues.

  “More like, I’ll never let go, River,” Dylan adds.

  I turn around and shoot daggers at him. If looks could kill, his ass would be dead in the back seat.

  “Good one. I’m almost certain that Alex has cried himself a roaring river over the last three months because at this point, I’m not sure she’s actually real.” Jackson has been antagonizing me about her, too.

  “You motherfuckers can drop dead.”

  The biggest mistake I made when I got home was telling Jackson about River, but I couldn’t help it. I needed someone to chat with other than Dylan, and I wanted another opinion to make sure I wasn’t losing my fucking mind. Unfortunately, Jackson’s unsolicited advice was to fuck a different woman every night for two weeks, and he guaranteed that’d get her out of my system and off my mind. Knowing that would never work—that no woman could replace River, nor would I want to do that—I swore I’d never ask him for female advice again. And I shoulda known better, considering he’s hung up on Kiera, even though he’d never admit it.

  Jackson drives fast down the dirt road that’s turned to mud as if he has somewhere to be. I hold on to the oh-shit handle and can hear Dylan being knocked around in the back as Jackson creates his own path to Mama’s house. Jackson can’t stop laughing as Dylan and I huff at his horrible driving. By the time he drops us off close to the porch, we’re ready to fall out of the Jeep.

  “Thanks, man,” I tell him as I get out, and he gives me a head nod before spinning out, slinging mud all over us. I flip him off, hoping he’ll see me in the rearview mirror, though I doubt he cares.

  “I kinda wish we would’ve walked now. I thought I was gonna die,” Dylan admits. I pat his shoulder and nod.

  “Or next time we call John. He doesn’t have a death wish.”

  Jackson and John may be twins, but they’re as opposite as they come. Aside from their identical looks, their personalities are what set them apart. Jackson lives every day as if he’s turning twenty-one for the first time while John is the more sensible and responsible one. Though if you asked anyone who knew the Bishop brothers, they’d say I was more like Jackson, whereas John and Evan were similar in personality traits.

  Before walking inside, we remove our boots and dirty jackets and leave them on the porch. No need to set Mama off by wearing filthy clothes inside her immaculate house.

  As soon as we walk in, I can hear Dad and Mama chatting in the kitchen. Smells of cornbread fill the house, and it makes me hungry.

  “Hey, Mama,” I say, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the cheek as soon as Dylan and I enter the kitchen. “Got the truck stuck again.”

  “Son, why don’t you call it a day?” Mama asks.

  “Because there’s work to be done,” I tell her politely with a smile.

  Dad drinks a glass of milk, and when he finishes, he wipes his mouth and makes eye contact with me. “That’s enough for today, son. Not too much more can be done in this weather. Waste of my damn time, if you ask me. If it’s a mess outside tomorrow, then we’ll pick up on Wednesday.”

  “Yes, sir
.” I glance at Dylan, knowing we’re going to have time to do whatever we want after we feed the animals tomorrow morning.

  “You boys be back here around six. Chili should be ready by then. It’s perfect for this cold weather.” Mama pats me on the back with a grin. “Tell your brothers, too.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We’ll be back.”

  Just as we head out of the kitchen, Mama calls me back. “Will you bring these treats over to John before you head home? Tell them to set them out for the B&B guests since they’ll be stuck inside the next few days.”

  Though it’s a little out of the way, I agree with a smile knowing I’m not on anyone else’s schedule today. Instead of getting my truck dirty, I grab the keys to the old Jeep parked in the barn beside the house. It’s not the fanciest vehicle on the ranch, but it’s better than the work truck we drive around, and it has 4-wheel drive, so no chance of getting stuck again.

  “I’m not heading home in this bullshit. Hopefully, a few hours from now it’ll let up,” Dylan says after we put on our boots and run to the Jeep. We try not to get any wetter but fail miserably. We drive slowly to the bed and breakfast, and when we finally get there, I see the parking lot is full of vehicles.

  After I park on the side of the building, I grab the sack of treats, and we bolt to the side door. Guests fill every empty chair available while others huddle around the fireplace though it feels like it’s a hundred degrees inside. Glancing around, I spot John who’s standing behind the counter reading a hunting magazine.

  “Mama told me to deliver these to you. She made them for the guests and all that.”

  “Again?” John asks, grabbing the bag and peeking inside.

  “You know how she gets. When she’s bored, she bakes. By the weight of it, probably a hundred cookies in there.”

  “Well, she sure knows how to butter ’em up,” John says, walking behind the bar and looking for something to put them in.

  “Butter them up or fatten them up? I’m not sure which one anymore,” I say with a laugh. John nods in agreement as he places the cookies in a basket and sets it on top of the counter.

  “So what y’all doing today in this lovely weather?” A tinge of sarcasm hits John’s tone as he glances outside the bay windows.

  “Day drinking,” Dylan responds with a smirk.

  “Hell no. We can’t be showing up for dinner completely wasted. Mama will murder us.” I shake my head at Dylan, and all he does is nod. I narrow my eyes at him. “Seriously, no.”

  “We’ll see,” he teases.

  Guests spot the cookies, and they take them by the handfuls. Everyone is all smiles, and I wonder if Mama made special cookies by how happy they are eating them.

  “I’m going home, I guess. Oh, Mama’s making chili. Be there at six. Let Jackson know too,” I tell John. He gives me a nod before Dylan and I head out. We ride in silence across the property. Once we get to my house, we run inside and kick off our boots.

  I walk to the kitchen and make myself and Dylan a turkey sandwich because we didn’t get a chance to eat. “You can borrow some of my clothes if you want so you don’t have to sit around in those nasty wet ones. I’m going to shower,” I tell Dylan once I finish eating.

  As I walk away, I catch him grabbing a beer from the fridge and realize he wasn’t kidding about day drinking. He tips it and opens it with a shit-eating grin. Shaking my head, I continue down the hallway to the bathroom.

  While I’m in the shower, thoughts of River flood my mind again. Why didn’t I ever ask her for her number? Why didn’t I insist that we keep in touch? The more I think about it, the more I want to kick my own ass. Once I dry off and get dressed, I head into the living room where Dylan is chatting it up with Jackson, who’s wearing shorts and cowboy boots, looking more ridiculous than normal as he drinks a beer.

  “You know Mama is expecting us at six, right?” I tell him, glancing at the bottle.

  “Yeah, John told me…so?”

  I don’t dare argue with him while he digs his own grave. Instead, I plop on the couch and watch TV. I’m so lost in my own head I couldn’t tell you what’s going on.

  “I’m going to look her up on Facebook,” I tell Dylan, loud enough for only him to hear.

  “No, it’s not a good idea. Like I’ve told you before, if she wanted to talk to you, she’d call you. Simple as that. You’re just setting yourself up to be let down. So why even go there?” Dylan hounds me much like he has before, but I don’t give in this time. “Don’t. Give me your phone.” Dylan holds out his hand.

  I flash him a look and refuse to give it to him. “But what if she lost my number? Or what if she lost her phone? There are a million different scenarios that could’ve happened. I know what we had was more than just a fling. I know it was,” I tell Dylan.

  “A hundred days later and you’re still hung up on her. That pussy must’ve been good. That’s all I’m saying,” Jackson adds from the kitchen.

  “Shut the fuck up, Jackson!” I yell back at him, not needing his side comments.

  He stalks into the living room and sits on the couch next to me, grabs the remote and flicks through the channels. Pulling up my Facebook app, I look at the ridiculous picture I have on my profile of Dylan and fishing. It’s been way too long since I’ve been on my profile, so I decide to check my friend requests first to see if maybe she looked me up and friended me. There are women in there, but not the one I want.

  My mind drifts to the first time we had a real conversation. Dylan was still in the hospital, and I knew I had to speak to her. After formally introducing ourselves, I was lost in her trance as she grabbed my hand and we sat there together, frozen in time. That was the first time I felt the electricity soaring between us. Her touch was like fire and set my body ablaze.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I type her name into the search bar and wait for her profile to load. I scroll through several River Lancasters until I find her. As soon as I see her sweet smile, I’m frozen in place. I click on the profile picture of her and Natalie and can’t help but swallow down my heart as I see the tight black dress she’s wearing. They’re both smiling big, and by the decorations that fill the background, I can tell they were celebrating New Years. Damn. I wish I would’ve been there to kiss her as the clock struck midnight.

  My finger hovers over the friend button. I suck in a deep breath, and it takes everything I have to close out of the app instead. As hard as it is, I force myself to leave our relationship exactly where it started and ended—in Key West.

  A week passes and the rain does too, but the pastures hold water in some places, so it’s still a sloppy mess. After work, I go home and shower before driving into town and to the Main Street Diner. I’m in the mood for breakfast for dinner, and the diner has the best bacon and eggs in town. I might even splurge on a big slice of pie. Mama is busy baking for the ladies at church, and we’ve learned not to even ask about food when she’s baking for a purpose. So, instead, I decide to do my own thing.

  As I drive across town, a stupid thought crosses my mind to message Natalie instead of River. She was tagged in River’s profile picture on Facebook, and I know if I messaged her, she’d at least be supportive, I think. She was always so eager for River and me to hang out, so I can’t imagine much had changed. However, the more I think about it, the more I realize how insane that sounds, even in my head. I don’t want to seem desperate or like a stalker, but ever since I found her online, it’s bothered the shit out of me.

  Waking into the diner, I glance around and see Mrs. Betty shuffling behind the counter, so I take a seat in her section because I know she’s always been good at giving advice. The woman has been working here since I was a kid, and she’s good friends with Mama, plus she always has the latest town gossip to distract me with. Sometimes, when I’ve got a lot on my mind, I’ll come down to the diner and drink coffee for hours. I always leave full and with a grin on my face.

  Mrs. Betty instantly greets me with a smile and a steaming cup of coffee.
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  “So, did you talk to your lady, yet?” is the first thing she asks me. After hearing Dylan and me talking about River one night over dinner, she stuck her nose right in and told me to stop being a foolish man and track my woman down. I left out the part about River and my no-strings-attached sex-only deal, so of course, she thinks I should go to the ends of the earth to find her.

  “No ma’am,” I say, taking off my baseball cap and setting it on the bar. “I’m not going to contact her. I’ve decided that if she doesn’t want to talk to me, then I don’t want to talk to her either.” My mood is sour, but I can’t help it. It’s been controlling my life these past three months, and it’s driving me crazy. I can’t keep on living like this.

  “That’s too bad, honey. Personally, I still think you should just go for it. What if she’s having the same conversation with herself at this moment? You don’t want to look back on your life when you’re old like me and realize you didn’t fight for love—real love—none of that made up stuff. I don’t care about distance; love always finds a way. Trust me on that, sweetie.” She flashes me a wink.

  I give her a smile but don’t speak.

  “What do you have to lose?” she adds.

  “Apparently nothing but my mind.” I sigh as she hands me a menu even though I always order the same thing. I don’t bother opening it but give her my order instead.

  “Good for you,” she says with a sweet smile when I add a slice of pecan pie to my order. She doesn’t press me on River again, which I’m grateful for.

  Time passes and before long Mrs. Betty is sliding my food across the bar top toward me and refilling my coffee. The eggs practically melt in my mouth, and the bacon is cooked crunchy just like I like it. As Mrs. Betty refills my coffee again, she’s smiling, and there’s something telling about that smile of hers.

  “So tell me again what your dream girl looks like,” she says, her smile still lingering.