Duke-ing It Out

Chapter One

Duke

I yank hard on the reins of my anger and frustration as I turn my rental car into the circle drive in front of the Vail, Colorado mountain lodge where my client, Sienna Ramsey, and her dad, Robert, are staying. This pair have been nothing but a pain in my ass since we signed the contract to work together a couple of months ago.

Sienna Ramsey is trouble with a capital T.

I stare at the house and shake my head. How someone so talented and gifted could jeopardize their tennis career like she’s done with this snowboarding stunt, I’ll never understand. I’d give my left nut just to be able to play one more down of football.

Okay, I wouldn’t give up my left nut, but the point is still the same.

Sienna is pissing away her career and the opportunity to be the best at a sport so few people can play well. It’s infuriating. My own desire to play at a high level aside, I’m in the business of getting athletes back to top performance, using a holistic body, mind, and soul approach. I have a 100 percent success rate, and this woman is ruining my average.

I pull to a stop before a huge log cabin with a raw stone chimney that extends up the two-story exterior and a porch running the length of the front of the house. Sienna’s a champion, and while the big tournaments have eluded her for the last couple of years, she’s still made her share of money. Also, she has endorsement deals that she could probably live on for the rest of her life. Which is one of the reasons I don’t believe she cares about her career. There’s no hunger there. She skates through life, taking nothing seriously.

Case in point, this stunt with the snowboard.

Enumerating her issues isn’t helping me simmer down, so I exit the car and ready for battle. The early December air sneaks down the neck of my jacket, causing a shiver that reaches all the way to my bones. There are twenty lightly snow-dusted steps leading to the porch. I know because I count them as I make my way to the front door, hoping it will help with my restraint.

It doesn’t. I’m loaded for bear, and that’s all there is to it.

I knock and wait for Robert to answer but am brought up short when Sienna pulls open the big wooden door. She’s gorgeous as ever, but her blonde hair doesn’t shine like usual, her posture isn’t quite as cocky, and there are lines of pain on her forehead. However, she still has the defiant lift of her chin that she’s greeted me with since our first meeting.

“Oh, goodie, reinforcements.” Her tone is as dry as a West Texas creek bed in the middle of August.

“Sienna.”

Moments tick by as she stares at me, then with a huge sigh, she steps aside. “You may as well come in.”

I step past her and nod. “Thank you.”

She closes the door and leads me into a massive den with floor to ceiling windows that showcase the mountains beyond. Overstuffed furniture centers around the biggest fireplace and hearth I’ve ever seen. I don’t miss how she winces with each shuffling step.

“That bad?”

“If I say yes, are you going to lecture me too?” She rubs at her tired eyes. “Because I’ve got to tell you, I’m pretty much at my limit today.”

I have a lecture as long as my arm cued up and ready to go, but because I’m not a monster and she’s clearly suffering, I keep it to myself—for now. “Where’s your dad?”

She waves toward the stairs. “Getting ready for a press conference.”

What? The hunched-over, limping woman before me has no business being in front of the cameras. Speaking of… “There isn’t any press outside.” Because of her wild child reputation, the press usually follows her everywhere.

“No, Dad made a deal with the media. They stay away from the property, and we answer all their questions.”

“With you?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, he tried, but I told him to shove it up his ass. So, he’s going alone. Thank God. I need five minutes without him in my face.”

For the first time, I notice a bruise on her chin. The blood in my veins turns to a block of ice. “Did he …?” The question hangs like a noose between us.

The confused expression on her face clears, and she chuckles. “I’d like to see him try.” She rubs long fingers over the blue spot. “No, that happened in the accident.” Her hand goes to the arm of the sofa, and she starts to lower herself into a sitting position.

“Wait. Let me see the damage.”

She sighs like I’ve asked her to give me her last remaining kidney. “Fine.”

I move behind her and raise her shirt. “Hold this.”

She complies and keeps the fabric out of my way. My fingers trace along an expanse of smooth skin with a tiny strip of a tan line. I gently examine a large knot on the right side of her spine at what would be her bra line … if she was wearing one.

“It’s just soft tissue damage. My spine is fine.” The defiance in her tone tells me she knows she screwed up.

“Mm-hmm.” I know that it’s not just soft tissue damage because her father emailed me the MRI results. She has ligament damage and has severely strained her trapezius muscle, leaving her swollen from the middle of her back to her neck on her right side.

I move one hand over the area, gently prodding and kneading the abused muscle, while my other hand holds her left hip stable. A soft exhalation escapes her lips, and she drops her head forward, moving it from side to side. A fierce jolt of lust fires through my system and nearly cuts me off at the knees.

What is happening?

Instinctively, my grip on her hip tightens, and without hesitation, she leans back into me. There’s no moaning or grinding, but it’s a thing, and my dick is proving it’s a very big thing.

A thing that has never happened before between us.

An exceedingly unprofessional thing.

We stay like that for several not at all unpleasant moments, then she stiffens.

“Gah, Duke, did you have onions for lunch?” She puts distance between us, lowers her shirt, and turns to face me with that defiant chin lift. “Dude, your breath is kickin’ like Jackie Chan. You might want to invest in some mouthwash.”

“My …” I bite back a laugh. I popped a mint before I came into the house, so I know she’s just trying to pick a fight. Under normal circumstances, I’d jab back, but she’s a client, and I’m a professional. I believe there’s always a right way and a wrong way to do things. But a few moments ago, my body didn’t seem to give a damn about my personal code of conduct or ethics. The problem is, feisty women like Sienna are my kryptonite. I usually protect myself by dating docile, sweet women, but I can’t deny that the less interested a woman is, the more I want her, which makes the lust surging through my bloodstream a problem.

She purses her lips and shakes her head. “Sorry, but the truth’s the truth.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” I twirl my finger. “Turn around and let me see your range of motion.” She complies, and it’s not good. “What’s your pain level?”

She shrugs, grimaces, and slowly sits. “Five or six.”

“Liar.”

The glare that lasers in on my face is lethal. “What do you want me to say, Duke? It hurts like hell.”

I mimic her shrug. “It’d be better than lying about it.” I sit across from her and rest my elbows on my thighs. “How did it happen?”

“I was—”

“Being a damn fool.” Robert Ramsey, Sienna’s father, strolls into the room dressed like he’s stepped off a GQ magazine cover. He makes his way to me and extends his hand. “Duke, thanks for flying in on such short notice.”

I stand and take his offered greeting. “It’s no inconvenience, Robert. She’s my client.” It’s a lie, it’s a huge hassle, and we both know it.

Sienna’s father slips his hand into his front slack’s pocket and gives his daughter a look full of censure. “It’s sure as hell been inconvenient for me to have to contact her agent and cancel all her endorsement appearances for the foreseeable future, since we can’t have her hobbling in like an eighty-year-old grandmother.”

 I don’t give a shit about Sienna’s endorsements, but I do care about her injury. I look past him to Sienna. “What happened?”

“She—”

“I asked Sienna.” I guess Robert’s an okay guy, but I don’t like his management or coaching style.

The tennis player in question picks at the fringe of the afghan in her lap. “I was snowboarding, and my friends challenged me to a trick competition. There’s a course at the resort.” Another attempted shrug before she stops herself. “I fell on one of the jumps.”

“It was nothing so benign as that.” Robert jumps into the conversation. “She nearly broke her neck.” He assesses his daughter and shakes his head. “All because someone challenged you to do something.” His tone conveys that he thinks she may be the rashest, most immature person who ever lived. If I didn’t dislike him, I might agree.

For her part, Sienna only glares at the man who raised her.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened. What matters is getting her back to peak performance. That’s my job.”

The two break their scowling contest to turn mutual disapproving expressions on me. Robert breaks first. “Of course, Duke. We appreciate you coming all this way. What do we have to do to get this hardhead back on the court? We have the Australian Open in January.” His I’m a winner smile spreads across his face.

I return to my seat and shoot a look at Sienna’s pain-stricken face. “I’m sorry, Robert, but my recommendation is that she be out for at least three months.”

The man’s hands slam onto his hips. “Three months! No way in hell. The Australian Open is in five weeks. That’s how long you have to get her ready to play.”

My head’s shaking before he can finish. “Bob …” I deliberately call him that because he hates it. “I consulted her doctor, and it will be at least a couple weeks before the swelling goes down enough for anyone to be sure she won’t need surgery.”

“Surgery?” Robert yells at the same time Sienna shouts, “You talked to my doctor?”

I don’t answer either one of them but scowl at Bob. “You told me she signed off on me having access to her medical records.”

“Yes, well …”

Sienna stands in feeble increments. “You gave him access to my medical records?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer. She knows it’s true. “Unbelievable.”

I don’t know if Robert sees it, but the flash of grief that contorts his daughter’s beautiful face is heartbreaking.

The man does have the decency to look embarrassed. “I now see the error of my ways.”

“Really?” Sienna and I both ask.

“Yes, it was ill-advised, as was hiring you, Duke. It’s clear to me now that our objectives are not aligned.”

“Dad—”

“Thank you for coming all this way, but your services are no longer needed,” Bob barrels over Sienna.

“Dad, don’t I get a say in—”

“Look at her.” Robert ignores his daughter and points in her direction. “She’s a champion. A winner. An extraordinary high-performance athlete. She didn’t get to where she is by laying off for months at a time. She’s made of sterner stuff than that.”

“You’re unbelievable, Father.” She sinks enough disdain in the word “Father” to choke a horse.

I stand to my full height. “You’re making a huge mistake, Bob.”

The guy takes a step back. “Oh, you think you’re not replaceable. And it’s Robert.”

I glance at Sienna, who’s staring at the floor like she just lost her best friend, and something about that makes me furious on her behalf. I cross my arms over my chest. I’m well aware of how intimidating I look. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you treating your daughter like a child and not the intelligent—though infuriating—woman she is. You’re also putting her future health in danger.” I take a small step in his direction, and he retreats again. “I want to get her back to top performance, too. But I also want her to be able to put a shirt on by herself, or have the ability to pick up her babies, or do any number of normal activities.” I uncross my arms, and my hands go to my hips. “You know, quality of life stuff that’s more important than getting her back on the court on your timetable.”

“That’s the kind of soft, sentimental thinking that keeps people from reaching their full potential, Duke.” He mimics my hands-on-hips stance. “Sienna Ramsey is made for more than a normal life”

His accusation that I’m soft hits its mark. It takes all my willpower to continue to advocate for my client, instead of defending myself. “It’s not an insignificant injury, Bob. Can’t you see that?”

“She’s tough. She’ll battle back from this. Tell him, Sienna.”

When she doesn’t answer, we both look to where she was standing, but she’s gone.

“As you can see, Duke, you’ve upset my daughter. I think it’s time for you to leave.” He checks his phone. “I have to be leaving too.”

I lift my hands. “Fine.”

We make our way outside, where he offers me his hand. His motherfuckin’ hand. Is this guy for real? “Thank you. I’ll see that you’re paid for your time and travel.”

I ignore his hand. “Yeah, you will.”

We both descend from the porch and get into our vehicles. He immediately starts his engine and pulls away from the house.

My trembling hands and racing pulse won’t allow me to do more than turn on the car and stare out the front window. Like a dormant, forgotten volcano come to life, an old, toxic concoction of chaotic feelings threaten to rise up and own me.

They won’t, and haven’t since I was nine years old.

I control my emotions.

They don’t control me.

Ever.

I don’t lose my shit. I don’t pop off and say things I don’t mean. I certainly don’t let a smart-mouthed, blonde slip of a woman and her father cause me to act irrationally.

After long moments where I count to a hundred then back to zero, I’ve calmed down enough to operate a vehicle. I’m shaken by the loss of control, but under control enough to pull out of the circle drive, leaving the lodge and the whole mess behind me. “Good riddance.”

I don’t know when I’ve been this mad. And I honestly don’t know who I’m madder at—me for taking on a client with so much baggage, Robert for being such an unmitigated ass, or Sienna for leaving during a discussion about her life and not standing up for herself.

That’s the real problem. She won’t take control of her life and keeps abdicating responsibility to her father. It’s infuriating. I shove my fingers through my hair and say to the empty car, “Grow up, Sienna.”

“Hey! I resent that remark.”

My head jerks to the rearview mirror—while I have a mini heart attack—to see Sienna with mischief written all over her face staring back at me.

I slam on the brakes, throw the car in park, and wrench my body around to make sure I’m not hallucinating. “What the hell?”

She examines her cuticles like she didn’t just pop up like one of those creepy clown jack-in-the-box toys. “I thought I’d try my hand at normal.”

An ominously thrilling and slightly crazed sensation slithers down my spine, and I vaguely wonder if this is how Clyde felt right after Bonnie slid into his car. “This …I …You can’t—”

“Please.” There’s not a trace of mischief or nonchalance when she meets my eyes, only raw misery and the tiniest hint of hope.

I should turn around and take her back to the lodge. I should stay miles and miles away from this situation. I should. I should. I should.

But I won’t.

I have no idea what I’m doing. None.

The only thing I know for sure—this has shitshow written all over it.

I throw the car into drive and pull out onto the highway.

Chapter Two

Sienna

As soon as Duke pulls the car back onto the highway, I release the breath I’ve been holding since hearing that my dad gave Duke permission to view my medical records. That’s when I knew I was done.

Done with tennis.

Done with this crazy life.

Done with my dad.

I ignore the ache just below my ribs. The fact is that Robert Ramsey hasn’t really been my dad for a long time.

It breaks my heart to remember that he used to be the best father around for his losing daughter.

That’s alright, sugar, you’ll get ’em next time.

How about we rub a little ice cream on the sting of that loss?

I’d love you whether you could swing a tennis racket or not.

Ironically, the more tournaments I won, the less and less like the father I used to know he became.

Tears press against my eyes, but I swallow the hurt, square my shoulders, and stuff all those emotions into the gigantic emotional suitcase that I carry around with me every damn day.

A fire slice of pain cuts through my back, and I suck in a sharp breath. “Damn it.” I readjust myself in the back seat, trying to get into a position that doesn’t make me feel like a ninety-year-old woman, instead of the twenty-five-year-old that I am.

“You okay back there?” Duke asks.

“Dandy.” But I’m not, and I’m sure he knows it, too, which chaps my ass.

He glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Want me to pull over so you can get into the front seat?”

“That would be great. Thanks.” It grates that Duke Wayne is the man I’m going to owe for getting me out of here. He and my dad are similar in a lot of ways, though Duke isn’t as win at all costs as my dad, but he is the reigning Mr. You’re Wasting Your Potential.

Every time he says it—and he’s said it or insinuated it many, many times in the last two months—I want to punch him in the gut. But that would’ve been difficult. Our association has been mostly virtual, since he lives in Texas and I have an insane travel schedule. It was tricky at times, but he made it work. He coordinated with my massage therapist, and we’d get online three days a week to deal with my old back injury, which was improving. It kills me to say it, but the guy is extremely good at his job.

I could like him if he wasn’t so serious all the damn time. Makes me want to ruffle his perfect hair above his flawless face with his gorgeous and distracting moss-green eyes. So why am I climbing into the front seat of his rental? He stood up to my father, and he’s the only one who ever has.

I close the car door and click my seatbelt into place.

“Adjust the seat however you need to.” My savior—a depressing and horrifying thought—says to me from behind the wheel.

“Thanks.” I do as he says, leaning the seat back some to get in a better position.

“Here.” He pulls his jacket off and hands it to me. “Use this for support if you need to take pressure off your back.”

“Thank you.” The words sound like they’re being chipped from concrete with a spoon.

His low, rumbling chuckle fills the car and swirls around my lower belly. “This is killing you, isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh.” He slips the car into gear, and we drive in silence for several long moments. The tension in the vehicle is so thick you could roll it up and make tension-filled doughballs. Oh, Duke looks all casual with his hand thrown over the steering wheel, but the muscle in his jaw is popping and spasming so bad that it looks like someone taught the thing to twerk.

I can’t help the snort that shoots from my mouth.

He cuts his eyes to me. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.”

I’m not going to tell him that his muscle looks like it’s a backup dancer in a Cardi B. video. He already thinks I’m an idiot. “I’m giddy with relief.”

His green eyes narrow. “Mm-hmm.”

“So where are we going?” I try to sound like we’re just out for a Sunday drive, but I know I miss the mark.

“I have a flight back to Texas in a few hours. I’m not sure where you’re going.”

“That’s fine. Texas sounds nice.”

He pulls to the side of the road again and stares at me. Good grief, at this pace, we’ll never get out of town.

“What?” I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Like I’m defective or something.

“How exactly are you going to get through an airport without being recognized?” His brows may as well form a question mark with how high they’ve hiked up his forehead.

“I …Well, I could …” He’s right. The press is already here in Vail, and it’s such a small town and airport, there’s no way I can get out of here undetected. “We could drive.” I sound like Sally Sunshine huffing paint fumes.

“Drive? Do you know how far it is to Fort Worth from here?” He shakes his head. “Drive, my ass.”

I pull up the map app on my phone and punch in our destination. “It says it’s fourteen hours from here to Fort Worth. That’s nothing.”

He just stares at me.

And stares.

Yep, he’s still staring.

“What?”

“So now you’re going home with me?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No,” I say more adamantly. “You get me to Texas, and I’ll figure out my next move.” But then a thought occurs to me. “Actually, it might not be a bad idea for me to stay with you. My dad would never look for me with you.”

He look like he’s just sustained a blow to the head. “That’s a horrible idea.”

“Why?”

“Because it is. Besides, why not just tell your dad that you’re taking a break and be done with it?”

Because that would require me to unpack my figurative Louis Vuitton bag and not only examine those feelings but share them with my father. Not going to happen. “He doesn’t listen to me.”

“You’ve told him that you need a break.”

I don’t like the skepticism in his voice. “Come on, Duke, let’s get a move on.” I tap my wrist where a watch would be. “We’re burning daylight.”

“Sienna.”

I huff out a breath. “Not in so many words, but it wouldn’t matter.” I can’t quite meet his eyes. “You know him.”

“Pulling stupid stunts hoping he’ll get the message isn’t the way to—”

“I’m tired, Duke. Tired and hurt, and I just want something normal in my life. I know that at some point I have to insist that my dad treat me like an adult, but today isn’t that day.”

He doesn’t say anything, only looks at me with that intense stare that can peel the skin from your body. The one where he looks at what’s under your skin and finds you wanting.

The one I hate.

I’ve got things, soul deep things, that I don’t want to look too closely at, and I certainly don’t want a man who finds me so flawed digging around in my private thoughts.

Finally, he nods. “If you want normal, Sienna, then that’s what you’ll get.”

Yay, I win! But before I can celebrate, I see a smug grin sneak onto Duke’s face. It’s there and gone so fast, but I’m sure I saw it. “What’s that?” I point in the direction of his mouth.

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

He shrugs. “Just be careful what you wish for, is all.”

Unease skitters around my chest and lands like a lead weight in my gut. He’s agreed to this way too easily. “What does that mean?”

Once again, he puts the car in drive and pulls back onto the highway, hopefully for the last time. “You’ll see.”

And I do not like the glint in those gorgeous green eyes.

Chapter Three

Duke

Damn infuriating woman. If she wants normal, then I’ll give her a bellyful of normal, or at the very least, mediocre.

“Where are you taking me?” There’s challenge and a small thread of panic in her voice.

Good.

“Ever heard of Ryder, Texas?”

“No. Should I have?”

I smooth my hand over the steering wheel. “Not really. It’s a small town about thirty miles north of Fort Worth, and where I grew up. No one would look for you there.”

A smile so blinding that I have to look away spreads across her face. “That sounds perfect. I’ve always wanted to live in a quaint small town with cute shops and neighborly folks.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ll find that and more.” Lord, is she in for a shock. My hometown is neighborly enough, but everybody knows everybody and their business too. She won’t be able to make a move without every person within a five-mile radius knowing it.

“So, do you still have family there?”

My hand comes up to rub at a dull ache at the base of my skull. It’s the same ache that always appears anytime my family is mentioned. “Yeah, my mom and stepdad.” I stretch my neck from side to side, trying to loosen the knotted muscles.

“What’s wrong with them?”

I’m so shocked by the question that I jerk my attention from the road to her. “Nothing. Why?”

She shrugs. “Um, I don’t know, you look like we should drive you straight to the chiropractor.”

I purposely keep my hands on the steering wheel. “There’s nothing wrong with them.” Much. “They’re just my family.” I use that word loosely. My family ended the day my dad left.

She pulls one leg beneath her and carefully turns in her seat to face me, hissing when she moves a little too fast for her injured back.

“Seems painful.”

Her hand waves away the question. “I’m fine. You’re being kind of cagey about them. Are they spies, jewel thieves, lion tamers?”

I laugh at the idea of Phil and Patty Blue as spies. “No, my stepdad is a sometimes clown and magician, and my mom—”

“A clown and a magician! That’s so cool.” Her eyes are as big as saucers, and her voice rises about three octaves when she says magician.

“And my mom owns Patty Blue Cosmetics.” I’m not touching her that’s so cool comment. She ought to try living with one.

“I’ve heard of Patty Blue Cosmetics. It’s like a multi-level marketing business, right? And every sales consultant has a blue car?”

“Only the top sellers, but, yes, that’s the one.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. She built it from the ground up. They have consultants in almost every country in the world.”

“I can tell you’re proud of her.”

I give her a tight-lipped smile. I am proud of my mom, but our relationship is complicated. Before my dad left, she only gave me the minimum amount of attention, then after she and Phil got together, she changed and showered me with love and affection. Great, right? Except I’d already learned the painful lesson that emotions make you weak, and family can be taken away from you. To say I’ve been resistant to the idea of a big happy family with Phil and my mom would be an understatement.

Phil, who whisks her away to play. Who knows how much bigger Patty Blue Cosmetics could be if Phil wasn’t always there to distract her?

Phil, who is constantly telling jokes and has to be the life of the party.

Phil, who bided his time, until my hardworking dad left town for a job opportunity he couldn’t pass up. He wasn’t so obvious about it, but I know that’s what happened.

It’s that last thing I can never forgive him for. He was like a silly-as-goose-shit snake in the grass, just waiting for his opportunity to try and take my father’s place.

Oh, I was happy enough when they first started seeing each other. He’d always been so nice to me and even taught me some of his magic tricks, what nine-year-old wouldn’t like that? But I know now that he was just using me to get to my mom. Then he took my mom away from my dad.

“Duke?”

Shit. What had she been saying? “Oh, sorry. My mind drifted for a minute. What did you say?”

“I asked if you know any magic tricks.”

“Um, a few that I learned when I was a kid.” Thankfully my dad helped me see how ridiculous wasting my time learning those tricks had been.

Dad, Dad, watch what Mr. Phil taught me.

Damn it, Duke. What have I told you about interrupting me when I’m watching game film?

Don’t do it. But, Dad, you’ve got to see this.

Fine. What’s so all-fire important?

Watch this magic trick Mr. Phil taught me.

You came running in here to show me a damn magic trick? Don’t you ever interrupt me again with something so asinine. Do you hear me?

Yes, sir.

Don’t you dare cry, boy. I will whip your ass from here to Dallas if you cry.

I’m not going to cry.

Good. Now sit down here and watch this film with me.

Thankfully, he’d shown me what a time-waster that kind of stuff was before Phil could suck me in any further.

My stepfather’s possibly the luckiest SOB on the planet and has done any number of jobs. Not because he has to work—he has a knack for picking investments. He also received an inheritance from a long-lost relative, whom he knew nothing about. Yeah, he’s that person. He’s also won the million-dollar lottery twice. It’s like he opens his arms, and things fall into them, including my mother.

A year and a half ago, Phil decided to use his love of magic and become a clown. He now spends most days at children’s hospitals in Dallas and Fort Worth spreading sunshine. His words, not mine. Frankly, I find it embarrassing. Why a grown, successful man would traipse around in a red nose and oversized shoes pulling coins from kids’ ears is beyond me. If he wants to do good work, he could just make a sizeable donation.

My mom is lovable, a bit needy, and totally besotted with Phil, which grinds my gears most days. I can only take them in small doses, which is why I never stay at their house when I visit Ryder. I’ve walked in on them in various stages of undress at least five times, and believe me, once is too many.

“He’s your stepdad?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still see your real dad?”

“No. He passed away when I was a freshman in high school.”

Her hand flew to her chest. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I didn’t see him much. He’d moved to Canada to coach in the Canadian Football League. Before that, he was the head coach for the Fort Worth Thunder. I’m named after him, though. John Wayne Jr. is my legal name.” I have no intention of telling her that I only saw my dad a few times from the day he left until he was in that coffin. And if I hadn’t known it was him, I wouldn’t have recognized the man.

“So why do people call you Duke—Oh, that actor’s name was John Wayne and people called him The Duke. Your dad must’ve loved westerns.”

“Yeah. He was a fan.” Wanting desperately to get off the subject of my dad, I ask, “So what’s your new life plan?”

Her shoulders hitch up and down and she gasps in pain. “I got to quit doing that. It hurts like a mother.” She maneuvers her body so she’s facing forward again. “No real plan at the moment. All I know is that I’m sick of every damn move I make being fodder for the media and sgossips. That’s why it will be nice to be in your small town for a while.”

I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling, and nod.

This woman has no idea what she’s in for.

Chapter Four

Sienna

I’m hurting … a lot. Not that I would tell my rescuer. Or captor. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with Duke.

After he called the rental company and made arrangements to return the car when we get to Texas, we made the decision to drive as far as we could today. That was too many hours ago to count. Endless miles with only three stops for gas and restroom breaks, and now we’re somewhere in New Mexico trying to find a place to eat and sleep.

It’s honestly been one of the best days of my life, even with the endless driving and Mr. Do-Right behind the wheel.

I ditched my phone just outside of Vail, so there was no way for my dad to track me, and Duke ignored the one call he got from my father. Easy enough, since he was supposed to be on a plane.

I’m free. I haven’t been free since I won my first Junior National title ten years ago.

“What are you hungry for?” Duke asks.

“I don’t care.” But then a sign catches my eye.

32 oz rib eye—You eat it and it’s FREE!

“There!”

“Where?”

I point to Pokey Bill’s Steakhouse. “There.”

“Home of the Billy Buster?”

“Yes.” I laugh. “I’ve seen places like this on TV. You order their Billy Buster steak and have so many minutes to eat it. If you do, then it’s free, and you get your photo on the wall.”

“You’re telling me that you think you can eat a thirty-two-ounce steak in one sitting?” His dark brows slide up his forehead.

“Sure, why not. What? You don’t think you can?”

“I don’t think I want to.” His superior tone grates against my last nerve.

“Chicken.”

“I don’t want to eat thirty-two ounces of chicken either.”

“No, stupid. I meant—”

“I know what you meant. I’m just messing with you.”

The grin he shoots me is so mischievous and out of character for the man I know that it throws me for a minute. “Oh, well, okay. Wanna give it a try?”

He puts his blinker on and maneuvers into the turn lane. “Sure, why not. I’m starving.”

The inside of Pokey Bill’s is exactly as you would imagine. It’s an Old West nirvana. Multiple animal heads hang on every wall. There’s a gigantic stone fireplace at one end of the room and farther beyond is the serving line, with huge grills behind that. There’s a covered wagon on one side of the room complete with stuffed—Lord help me, I hope they weren’t once alive—horses rigged up and attached to the contraption. Each table is held together with a wagon wheel, and the servers are all wearing boots, jeans, white pearl snap shirts, and a red bandana around their neck.

“Can I help y’all?” The hostess’s accent is so thick that it sounds like Ken I halp yawl?

Duke seems to not have recovered from the animal heads, so I jump in. “Table for two.”

She snags two menus and two bundles of silverware. “Right this way.”

We follow her through the enormous dining room to a table by the fireplace. The smell of searing meat fills the air and makes my mouth water. The beef jerky I ate a hundred miles ago is long gone from my system.

The hostess places the menus and silverware on the table. “Celeste will be your server. She’ll be right over.”

We sit and both gawk at the place for several long moments.

Duke shakes his head. “If Wyatt Earp waltzes out of the back carrying his six shooters and a side of beef over his shoulder, I won’t be surprised.”

I laugh. “It is a bit on the nose.” Then I remember he’s from Texas. “So, they don’t have places like this where you’re from?”

“Oh, they do. I live in Fort Worth, where they have the world’s only twice a day cattle drive through the streets of the Stockyard.”

“Really?”

“Yes. There are places like this in Texas, but this is really over the top.”

“Billy’s not really the subtle type.”

“I doubt he knows how to spell the word.”

I scan the menu while we wait on our waitress, looking for the desserts. “Oh, my.”

Duke looks up from his menu. “What?”

“They have pecan pie and banana pudding on the menu.” I have a huge sweet tooth that I’ve had to ignore for the last ten years.

The man across from me shakes his head. “First, you think you’ll be able to eat dessert after you finish a 32 oz. steak?  And second, processed sugar is horrible for you. I cut sweets out of my diet six months ago and have never felt better.” He sits back with a stupid superior look on his face.

“I had no idea I was sitting with the captain of the sugar police. It’s such an honor. Thank you for the totally helpful and completely unsolicited information.” I close the menu. “I think I’ll get both to go.”

Before he can chastise me, a pretty young woman with coal-black hair who looks like she’s on her tenth shift in a row ambles up to our table. “Hey, how are y’all? I’m Celeste, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.” Her sunny greeting contrasts sharply with the dark circles under her eyes. She’s probably close to my age, but she carries herself like someone older, with far more responsibilities on her shoulders.

Duke closes his menu and meets her gaze. “We’re great, Celeste. How are you?” He flashes his perfectly straight, white teeth.

The pink flush that crawls up her neck and settles on her cheeks makes her look five years younger. “Oh, I’m … fine.”

My companion cocks his head and searches the waitress’s face. “Don’t lie to me, Celeste.”

She rests one hand on the chair in front of her and chuckles. “To be honest, too pooped to pop.”

“Long shift?”

Her smile is as tired as her eyes. “Long two shifts.” She pushes a piece of hair that’s fallen out of her ponytail off her face with the back of her hand. “This is my first day back from having my baby, and I’m draggin’ tail.”

Duke nods like he hears this all the time. “How old’s your baby?”

Her smile morphs from tired to radiant. “Four weeks, and she’s the love of my life.”

“Got a pic?” he asks, like they’re old pals who just ran into each other at the Piggly Wiggly.

I’m so struck by the instant rapport stick-up-his-butt-Duke establishes with this tired woman that all I can do is sit back and watch the show.

Celeste peers around then pulls her phone from her back pocket. A few swipes, and she holds the device up to us. A dark-haired bundle wrapped in pink fills the screen.

Duke takes the phone from her. “What a beauty. She must have her daddy wrapped around her finger.”

The flush on Celeste’s face deepens, and she ducks her head. “It’s just me and Lily. My boyfriend said he wasn’t ready to be a father.” She squares her shoulders and raises her chin. Fire that hadn’t been there before, blazes in her eyes. “It’s fine. We’re going to be just fine.”

Admiration flashes in Duke’s eyes. “Yes, you are. Lily’s lucky to have you.” He hands the phone back to her. “So, Celeste, can my friend and I get two of the Billy Busters?”

“You sure can.” She gives me an assessing look then holds her fist up in my direction. “Girl power.”

I laugh and bump her fist with mine. “Girl power.”

“Oh, good Lord, don’t encourage her, Celeste. She’s already a handful.”

The waitress grins. “I’m pretty sure you can handle it, stud.”

Duke’s teasing smile does weird things to the area just below my ribs. “You think?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll get this order in for you. How do you want them cooked?”

I unfold my napkin and rest it in my lap. “Medium for me.”

“Same,” Duke echoes.

“Anything to drink?”

“Water.” I look at Duke, and he nods. “Two waters.”

“You got it.” As she leaves there’s a definite skip in her step that wasn’t there when she walked up to our table.

“Poor girl.” I toy with the cracker packets. “You were very nice to her.”

He shrugs. “In my experience, people just want to be heard.”

I wave between us. “Is that what this is?”

“What?”

“You helping me. Is this you hearing me?”

Another shrug. “I’m not sure what this is”—he mimics me waving between us—“other than a lapse in sanity.”

I throw the saltine packet at him. “Thanks a lot.”

He leans his elbows on the table and claps his hands. “You know how I feel about your tennis career. I’ve never seen anyone with more natural talent, and it kills me to watch you throw it away, but I meant what I said to your dad. I want you back on that court kicking ass, but I also want you to be able to pick up your babies and dress yourself in five years. If you don’t take care of this injury, there will be permanent damage. So, I’m willing to help you carve out the time to figure out what it is you want to do.”

I trace the outline of a buffalo on my paper placemat. “I know what I want.”

His head wobbles back and forth. “Maybe you do, but I also know you’ve never had the chance to make any of your own decisions about tennis. Once you’ve had time to heal, you may decide you still don’t want to play, but you may decide you do. Either way, I’m willing to help you get that time.”

“Thank you. But I’m not going to change my mind.”

He holds his hands up. “Fine.”

But I can tell it’s not fine.

“I’ll still help you rehab this injury to get you back to normal.”

Our eyes meet, and I’m nearly sucked into the mossy depths of them. “Thank you.”

Celeste returns to the table with our waters. “Your steaks will be out in a few minutes. Can I get you anything else right now?”

I peel the paper from the straw that came with the water. “No, we’re good. Thank you, Celeste.”

She nods and leaves the table again.

My attention goes back to Duke. “Why does it matter to you?”

“What are you talking about?”

I sit back and cross my arms. “Why do you care if I go back to tennis or not? Other than you hate to see me waste my potential.”

He sips his water then rests his elbows on the table. “I just want you to have the chance if you want it. I didn’t have that chance.” He massages the bridge of his nose. “The injury that ended my football career was totally rehabilitative, but the team’s trainer didn’t know what he was doing, treated it with pain meds and cortisone injections, and a small injury turned into something career ending.”

Each word is drenched in bitterness, and they’re disorienting coming from his mouth because he’s a walking motivational poster. Okay, now I get him a little. I know now why he’s been such a hard-ass when it comes to my rehab. “I’m sorry.”

His big hand scrubs over his mouth. “It’s fine.”

But I can tell it’s not.

Celeste returns with two plates with the biggest slabs of meat on them I’ve ever seen, each with a steak knife sticking out of the top of it. The baked potato next to each one is dwarfed by the steak. She sets them in front of us, then fishes a timer out of her apron. Her fingers push the buttons on the device, then she steps back from the table. “You have thirty minutes to clean your plates.” She winks at me. “My money’s on you, sis.”

“Hey, this has turned ugly quickly,” Duke says.

She laughs and waves over her shoulder as she walks away.

I eye the slab of meat, and so does my companion. “What do you think?”

“I think we should up the stakes. No pun intended.” He grins.

“You do, huh? What do you propose?”

“If I win, then you don’t make any final decisions about tennis until your back is better.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “And if I win?”

He motions to me with his palm pointing to the ceiling. “Your choice.”

My mind is racing. What do I want from him? “If I win … you help hide me until I’m feeling better.”

For a moment, he doesn’t do anything, but I can tell he’s thinking because of the small divot that forms between his brows. Finally, he holds his hand out to me. “Deal. May the biggest mouth win.”

“If that’s the judge, then I don’t stand a chance.”

“Funny.” He makes that first cut into his steak. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”

“Ha-ha. Shut up and eat.”

“You’re going down, Ramsey. Prepare to lose.”

He’s crazy if he thinks I’m letting him win. I’ve got too much riding on this bet. He hasn’t seen me at my most determined. “Bring it, Wayne.”

Chapter Five

Duke

I’ve never been more miserable in my life. I push away from the table and resist the urge to unbutton my pants. Unlike the woman across from me, I can’t put another bite into my mouth. She’s still going at it and only has a few pieces of steak left on her plate. “How?”

She grins. “I’m motivated.”

I shake my head. “You are crazy.”

Her fork stabs at the last piece of meat, and she pops it into her mouth. “As a fox.”

Celeste returns to the table. “It looks like we have a winner.”

Sienna grins up at her. “Girl power.”

“Let me go get the camera.” Celeste bites her lip. “We kind of make a big production of it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Um … sure.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Sienna goes a little pale, and I wonder if her dinner isn’t about to reappear. “I can’t be recognized.” She pulls her bag into her lap and pulls out a pair of black-rimmed glasses and a ball cap.

I lift my brow.

The glasses slide onto her face and the cap goes onto her head. “I always carry a disguise.”

I snort. “You’re a regular James Bond.”

She grins. “I know.”

“I was kidding. That’s a terrible disguise.” I see Celeste and a guy wearing the same outfit as the waitstaff, but instead of a bandana around his neck, he has a bolo tie.

Celeste motions to the guy. “This is my manager, Bill. Bill, this is …”

“Candy.” Sienna answers, and I bite back a laugh.

“Candy,” our waitress repeats.

Sienna bats her eyes behind the glasses. “Is that Bill of Pokey Bill’s fame?”

The guy blushes. “He’s my dad.”

“Still, I feel like I’m in the presence of greatness. The apple must not fall far from the tree.”

Celeste covers a laugh with a cough.

Bill reaches out his hand to assist Sienna out of her seat. She goes willingly. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces. “Tonight, Candy will join our other all-stars on the wall of fame. She conquered the Billy Buster.”

The room erupts into applause. Sienna strikes a pose, by popping a hip and raising the hand on the uninjured side of her body into the air. So much for keeping a low profile.

Bill hands Sienna a T-shirt. She doesn’t put it on, but holds it in front of her. It reads I ate it all at Pokey Bill’s. Then Bill throws his arm around the champ and says, “Smile, Candy.” Celeste snaps a photo, and the room claps again.

Before she leaves the table, Celeste places the check in front of me for my steak. “Sorry.”

I hand her my credit card. “I don’t really think you’re sorry at all.”

She laughs. “I’ll be right back.”

I look over at Sienna, and she’s put the T-shirt on. “You’re really going to wear that?”

“Every chance I get.”

Celeste returns with my card and the credit slip for me to sign. “It was really nice meeting you two. Y’all come back and see us.”

She walks away from the table, and I look at the bill.

“How much are you going to tip her?”

“Five hundred dollars.”

“I knew it. Double it, and I’ll Venmo you the money.”

I grin at her. For some reason, this makes me enormously happy.

“I like to take care of my fans.”

“Me too.” I wink.

She stands. “Shut up. Let’s get out of here before I puke.”

“I knew you felt as bad as me.”

“Worse because I won.”

We push through the front door of the restaurant. I pull the keys from my pocket and suck in a lungful of air. “You are indeed a champion.”

She points at me. “You owe me.”

I raise my hands. “I pay my debts.” I’m not too worried about this bet. A few days in Ryder is all it’s going to take to change her mind about being normal.

The door behind us bursts open, and Celeste runs out. “Wait.”

We stop, and she runs straight into my arms, tears streaking down her face. “Thank you so much.”

My arms automatically go around her. “It wasn’t just me. Candy and I both left the tip.”

She throws herself at Sienna. “Thank you so much. This is enough for me to pay my rent this month. You guys are the best. I never thought Sienna Ramsey would show up in my section on a Wednesday night.”

Sienna holds Celeste by the shoulders. “You know?”

The single mom wipes her eyes. “Yes, but don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“That would probably be best.” Sienna digs into her bag and pulls out a card. She jots down a number. “This is my accountant’s number. I’ll send her a message tonight, and you give her a call tomorrow afternoon. Tell her how much your rent is, and she’ll send you enough to pay it for the year.”

“No. I can’t let you—”

“You’re not letting me. I want to do it. That way I know you and Lily are taken care of, and it will give you time to get your feet underneath you.” Sienna smooths one of Celeste’s stray hairs behind her ear. “My money’s on you, mama. You’re going to do great.”

Celeste hugs her again. “Thank you. I better get back to work.” She turns to go back into the building but stops at the door. “You’re incredible,” she says to Sienna.

And I have to agree.

***

“We need two rooms, please,” I say to the kid behind the registration desk. His name tag reads Raymond. The guy can’t be out of his teens if the acne dotting his cheeks is any indication.

The hotel we found is only holding onto that title by the thinnest of threads, but Sienna told me she wouldn’t stay in a motel unless I paid her by the hour.

The woman is crazy.

“Ray … can I call you Ray?” she says to Raymond and gives him her most winning smile.

“Um, yeah … I guess.”

“Fabulous. I’m Delilah.” She extends her hand across the desk.

He takes her outstretched fingers warily. “Nice to meet you.” Clearly not many guests introduce themselves to Raymond.

“Ray, can we get adjoining rooms?” She wraps her arm around my elbow. I’m so shocked that for a second, I can’t move. “You see, we’re engaged, but Johnny here”—her head rests on my bicep—“insists we wait until marriage. If you know what I mean?”

Ray stares at me for a moment.

My senses come back to me faster than the kid. “You should stop … Delilah.” I have no idea why I just called her that. But that crazy Clyde part of me is curious to see where she goes with this.

“You know, S. E. X,” she whispers across the desk.

A startled “Oh” escapes from between Raymond’s lips. The crimson bleeding into his face starts at his hairline and disappears into his plaid shirt. I’m 100 percent sure that the blush extends all the way to his toes.

She snuggles into my arm and closes her eyes like I’m the dreamiest thing she’s ever seen. “It’s because he used to be a man of the cloth, but he got kicked out for embezzlement.” She whispers the last word like it’s too horrible to say out loud. “Anyway, while he has no problem stealing from people, he wouldn’t dare fornicate before marriage.”

The kid’s forehead crinkles like an accordion. “Fornicate?”

“Bumping uglies. Hiding the salami. A bit of the old in-out, in-out. Afternoon delight. Bam-bam in the ham. Taking old one-eye to the optometrist. Boinking. Buttering the biscuit. The forbidden polka. Getting—”

“I’m pretty sure he’s got the picture.” I try to pull my arm away, but she clings to it like a spider monkey. I could stop this, but I’d have to make a scene to do it.

“So, doing it.” Raymond looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“Well, yes. And I keep hoping he’ll give into temptation, so I’d like to be close in case he, you know …” She winks at the kid.

“Gets horny.”

Sienna reaches across the desk and pats the kid on the hand. “Exactly.”

Raymond’s open-mouthed gaze bounces from her to me, then back to her. Finally, he closes his mouth and begins clicking computer keys. “Um, yeah, I have adjoining rooms.” He takes my license and gets us registered in record time.

I finally disentangle her from my arm. This has to stop, no matter if I embarrass her or not. “She’s crazy. I’m not a—”

“No judgment here, Reverend? Father? Brother? I don’t know what to call you.”

Sensing defeat, I give in to the madness. “Johnny’s fine.”

He processes our keys through the machine. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, Johnny.” A pen and a receipt are pushed across the desk to me. “Can you sign here?”

“Sure.” I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Once the paper has my signature, I hand it back to him. “I guess all we need are the keys.”

“Oh, yeah.” He picks them up and hands them to me. Before I can take them, he grabs them back. “Um … I wonder if you could help me with something?”

“What can I do for you?” The sinking feeling in my gut tells me I have a pretty good idea of what he’s about to say.

“It’s just that …” He cuts his eyes toward Sienna.

She smiles and makes a rolling motion with her hand. “Go ahead, Ray. Confession is good for the soul.”

I will kill her.

“Well, my girl and I took things a little too far last weekend, and it’s been eating me up inside.” He shakes his head. “I’ve been taught to wait until marriage, too, but she’s so hot, and I was weak.”

I can see Sienna chewing on the inside of her cheek. No way can I make eye contact with her, or I will lose it. “It’s alright, salright, son. We’re all weak sometimes. You have no idea how many times today I’ve thought of doing bodily harm to someone.” I cut my eyes to Sienna. “Like, outright murder.”

Sienna does laugh then but covers it with a cough. “He’s right, Ray, none of us are perfect.”

The kid nods. “I know you’re right, but …” His dark eyes slide from the left to the right like he’s casing the joint. “Could you pray for me, Johnny?”

The troublemaking stowaway next to me gives me an adoring smile, but mischief is dancing right behind her eyes. “I think you could do that for Ray, to ease his conscience.”

Her death will be slow and painful. I swear it.

“Fine.”

Sienna makes a circle with her hands then presses her palms together in prayer. “Let us pray.”

I suck air into my lungs, then expel it with all the annoyance I can muster and bow my head. “Lord, please be with Raymond here. He’s clearly sorry for his transgression. Help him to withstand the temptation of the flesh in the future.”

Sienna’s snort is disguised by clearing her throat. “Amen. That—”

“And Lord help me to withstand the temptation to wring the neck of the person who’s tormenting me.” She may think I’m playing, but this is a real plea from me to the big guy. “And help Delilah with her impulse control issues. Amen.”

The boy’s face is flushed, but a giant smile splits his face. “Thank you, Johnny. I feel a lot better.”

I resist the urge to shake my head. “I’m glad, son.” We stand in silence for several beats. “Can I get our keys?”

“Oh, shit, yeah. Here you go.” He slides them to me, then waves. “Y’all have a good night. Praise the Lord.”

Sienna throws one arm into the air and shouts, “Praise the Lord and amen.”

“You know, you look familiar, Delilah. Have we met?”

My companion ducks her head. “No, I’m sure I would’ve remembered you, Ray.”

My turn. “Delilah’s quite a famous adult entertainer, Do Me Delilah. Have you heard of her?”

“Yes. I think I have.” The kids lying face isn’t near as good as Sienna’s.

“So, while you may not have met in person, you may have seen her on the internet somewhere, or at least parts of her.”

“Oh, yeah.” The kid’s eyes practically bug out of his head, and I have to gnaw my cheek to keep from laughing.

“Retired,” Sienna says to the ground.

I lean forward. “Pardon, Delilah, we didn’t hear you.”

She slips her fake glasses on. “I said I’m retired from the adult entertainment industry. Now I’m Do The Lord’s Work Delilah. I travel with Johnny trying to find a congregation to shepherd.” Her smile is angelic.

I swallow a snort. I have to give it to her. She’s good.

“Well, a congregation that doesn’t mind that he’s a criminal and I’m an ex-adult film star.” She shrugs. “It’s been tougher than you might think.” Her arms go around mine again. “Isn’t that right, lovey?”

“That’s right, buttercup.”

Raymond nods like his brain is about to explode.

I take the keys and head for the elevator, renewing my prayer to not do bodily harm to this maddening, infuriating, crazy woman.