Page 3 of Piece Of Me

“Do you think I care what you think of me?”

“I think you’re consumed by a package that didn’t arrive.”

“Well wouldn’t you be?” Exasperated she turned to him. Light green eyes, so light they almost appeared colorless, stared back at her, fringed by lashes so thick it wasn’t fair. His hair was the color of burnt tobacco shot through with sunlight, the long wavy ends stuck out from beneath an old and faded Texas Ranger’s ball cap. His features were strong, a square jaw, high cheekbones, and a nose that had been broken more than once. He was wholly masculine, and her mouth went dry as a slow grin touched the corners of a mouth that was meant for sinning.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said slowly and held out his hand. “I’m?—”

“I know who you are,” she cut him off.

Taz Pullman.

“That so?”

He was a dangerous man. It took Scarlett all of two seconds to know this. She wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’m sorry to say I’m at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name.” His smile opened wide. It was ridiculous really. That smile. It was as if the heavens opened up and shone only for him. As if all the birds and unicorns and puppies danced in a circle and sang kumbaya. His charm was off the charts, and she was guessing he knew it.

Screw him, she thought.

She’d tangled with a man like him a year ago. A man who’d nearly broken her. A man who’d left her pregnant and alone and so scared that she’d promised herself it would never happen again.

And yet something about him brought out the devil in her because Scarlett raised an eyebrow and spoke when she damn well should have stayed silent. “You don’t need to know my name because we’re not friends.”

“We could be.” There it was. That warmth and charm that made her want to vomit.

“No,” she replied. “That’s not going to happen.”

He was clearly puzzled by her hostility. “Have we met before? Have I done something to offend you?”

She’d seen him once, last fall when her brother Cal had declared his love for Millie Sue at the Sundowner. But back then her light had been dimmed, hidden beneath the hurt and sadness she’d brought back from Europe. She’d made no effort to interact with anyone. Hell, for the longest time she barely talked to her own family.

It was only after the birth of her son that she’d come alive. Her joy. Her life. Her little Hank.

“You don’t know me,” Scarlett replied, turning back to face the counter as David appeared, face flushed, noticeable pit stains under his arms. In his hands was a package which he gingerly handed over.

“Sorry, it was buried in the back, and I guess Charlie didn’t see it.”

Suddenly at ease, body loose, Scarlett sank back onto her heels. “Thank you, David,” she said sweetly. She grabbed the package and turned around, nearly stumbling when her body betrayed her, and she glanced down at her chest.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered from between tight lips. Forget about David’s pit stains, they had nothing on the very visible, very round damp circles that suddenly appeared across her chest. Her breasts, tender and hard made her wince and she swore, glancing up as Taz Pullman’s gaze lowered.

Great. Just fucking great.

“What are you looking at?” she said, shoving past him.

Head high, shoulders out, Scarlett Bridgestone marched past Taz Pullman, and half the town of Big Bend it seemed. She kept on past the bakery and the bookstore, then crossed the street and walked past the Coffee Pot. She didn’t stop until she reached the water tower and Cal’s truck, then hopped inside. She tore out of town like a bat out of hell. Her hormones high, the town’s gossip mill even higher.

Scarlett Bridgestone knew she’d be the talk of the town for days, maybe weeks, and she didn’t give a rat’s ass. In fact, she giggled and turned up the radio and barreled down Dry Creek Road.

As she headed back to the ranch, one very curious man glanced at David Wilcox and shook his head.

“Who in hell was that?” Taz Pullman asked, more interested in the answer than he should be. The woman was clearly married. And had a child. But man, she was something else.

Wilcox smiled weakly. “That was Scarlett Bridgestone.” He paused dramatically and ran his hand over his bald head. “If you’re smart, you’ll stay away from her.”

CHAPTER 2

Traffic was light as Taz headed across town. His mother’s place was near the park; a quaint white bungalow, complete with a matching picket fence, swing hung from the large oak tree out back, and enough flowers in the front garden to supply the entire town. Overflowing window boxes filled with petunias in a variety of colors framed the porch, which sported two rocking chairs that moved slowly in the breeze.

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