Rules of Protection (Tangled in Texas #1)(63)

I sat on the bed and kicked off my sneakers. Jake stripped his clothes down to the dark gray boxer briefs riding up his legs. I don’t know how I’d never noticed before, but Jake had a small round scar on the front of his thigh. Guess when he was naked, I was looking at something other than his leg.

“What happened?” I asked, blatantly staring.

“It’s nothing,” Jake said, unwilling to elaborate. He stepped into the bathroom and turned on the water.

As soon as the sliding glass door closed behind him, I threw on the little red off-the-shoulder number given to me by Junior’s daughter. I grabbed my heels, my fake identification, and the keys to the Explorer before sneaking out the front door.

Maybe I went haywire by blindsiding Jake, but it was the only way to get out the door hassle-free. I didn’t waste time formulating a plan. One hour. It’s all I wanted. Then I’d return and face Jake’s wrath. I’m sure it would be in full swing by then. Minor thrills always have major repercussions, but the long-term boredom and monotony was getting to me.

I barely made it to the Explorer when someone behind me said, “Going somewhere?”

“Holy shit!” I said as Junior stepped out of the shadows. “Don’t do that. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

He grinned, then lifted his head toward the cottage. “Where are you off to by yourself?”

I raked my fingers into my hair, giving it a nervous flip. “I’m going to The Backwoods.”

“Jake know?”

It was my turn to grin. “Cowboy and the others will be there,” I said, avoiding his question.

“You know I have to tell him.”

“Oh, come on, Junior.” He gave me a yeah right look. “Okay, well, how about giving me a head start?”

“Woman, you’re asking for trouble.”

“Pleeeease?”

His face softened, though his eyes stayed as bright and rock-solid as ever. “Two minutes.”

“Two minutes?” What the hell is up with these people and giving somebody only two minutes? You can’t do shit in two minutes!

“Take it or leave it.”

I threw my arms around him and hugged him, though he didn’t hug me back. He seemed more surprised than anything. “Thanks, Junior.” I got into the Explorer, but turned back to him. “Hey, uh…one more thing. Do you know how Jake got that scar…the one on his thigh?”

“I’ll let Jake tell you.”

“I asked, but he didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Give it time. Scars need a lot of time to heal. You of all people should know that.”

“But I don’t have any scars.”

“Some scars can’t always be seen with your eyes,” he said, “Doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” He gave me a terse nod and glanced at his watch. “Two minutes,” Junior reminded me.

…

The Backwoods was packed and just what I needed—an adult’s playground—even if I hadn’t acted like much of an adult sneaking off without telling Jake. By now, Junior had surely ratted on me. I pictured Jake punching the air with his fists until a vein popped out on his temple. It made me glad I wasn’t there when it happened, though I doubted he’d be much calmer by the time I got home.

I stood at the bar, waiting for the bartender to look my way, when Cowboy slung an arm around me. “You are one big bucket of crazy, you know that? No, actually, crazy doesn’t begin to cover you.”

“Did you see me come in?”

“No. Junior called to let me know you were on your way here. He was about to do the same for Jake when I hung up with him.” He smiled wide. “You’re going to get the whooping of your life when Jake finds out. Hell, I’ve got half a mind to do it myself,” he said with a wink. “I’d probably enjoy it too much, though.”

“I’m surprised they don’t call you Playboy instead of Cowboy.”

“Some of my female friends do.” He motioned across the room, where Judd and Ox sat at a table. Ox gave me a thumbs-up. “We had a bet on whether you’d come tonight—with or without Jake,” Cowboy said. “Ox won. I’m buying the next round.”

“You didn’t think I’d come?”

“No, I didn’t think you’d come without Jake knowing. That’s suicide, darlin’. Now, whatcha drinkin’?”

I grinned. “Whatever you’re buying.”

Cowboy sent me to the table and joined us a few minutes later with a handful of shots. He doled them out to each of us.

“What is it?” I asked, eyeballing the golden brown liquor.

“Ass.”

“Excuse me?”

They all chuckled. “It’s a shot of ass,” Cowboy explained, wearing a shit-eating grin. “It’s a combination of three liquors, none of which will keep you from taking off your clothes.”

I swigged a small sip and coughed. “Eww. This does taste like ass.” They all laughed as I downed the rest of it and made a face. I laughed, too, but stopped when my eyes snagged on something across the room.

“Oh, damn. I think I need another drink.”

The boys followed my gaze with their eyes, and then three shot glasses slid across the table simultaneously.