9781618850034TroubleHunter Page 2

  If things had been different, would she have enjoyed sex? Of course, she was ill equipped for it; but there were women who looked as she did, and they seemed to have fulfilling sex lives. And she would, too. Soon.

  Just not with a man.

  Not yet, anyway. Someday, Dr. Horton assured her, she would meet a man who could care about her. Dr. Horton told her she was a ‘lovely person’. Nevertheless, dear Dr. Horton was getting old and his eyesight was failing. Still, what he said sounded good. To find someone who could look past her flaws and see the woman who had so much love to give—that was a dream worth having.

  Someday.

  But for now, what she needed was a dildo.

  * * * *

  Opening the window, Kyler Landon felt the late summer breeze brush over his skin. He stood, leaning against the facing, watching the clouds pass over the moon. A whippoorwill cried in the distance, and the eerie sound was the saddest thing he had ever heard. Whip-poor-will. Whip-poor-will. As bad as he hated to admit it, he was lonely. Flexing his back, he tried to work out the kinks. Since five am this morning, he and his men had planted thirteen thousand pine trees. What he needed was a massage. Hell, he might as well be truthful with himself.

  What he needed was a woman.

  At thirty-one, he was familiar with every eligible female in five counties—many of them intimately. Ky knew there was always one or two ladies he could depend on for a night of, what he called, ‘desperation sex’. He must be growing up, because there just wasn’t the same pleasure in casual sex as there used to be. He didn’t think he would ever see the day, but here lately, Ky wanted somebody with whom he could talk and laugh. He wanted someone to share his thoughts with at the end of the day—a warm, sweet body in his bed every night.

  Ky was, undoubtedly, one of the most eligible bachelors in East Texas. He was sexy as sin, more than comfortable financially, and an all around nice guy. He spent his time managing his family’s timber company and caring for a ten-thousand acre cattle ranch. In his spare time, he indulged his artistic side by making hand-made leather items, such as saddles and belts.

  There was an abundance of women who would give their eyeteeth to snare him. But Ky, along with his twin brother, had carefully nurtured reputations as confirmed dyed-in-the-wool bachelors. It all stemmed from a half-joking/half-serious deal they had made in their early twenties, one rainy Saturday night at a Sixth Street bar in Austin, Texas.

  The incident occurred their senior year in college at UT…Ky had just come off a bad break-up. He had gotten involved with a cute little Hispanic girl from San Antonio. Cicely had been super-smart, a Valedictorian from one of the bigger high schools in the Alamo city. She had come to UT on a full scholarship. For six months, she and Ky had been exclusive.

  Cicely had changed, however, becoming irrationally jealous and emotionally unstable. Probably not the best timing, but Ky had broken it off with her over Christmas vacation—over the phone. She hadn’t taken it well, to say the least. When he had left East Texas in early January, she had been waiting for him on the steps of his dorm. Crying, she had informed him that she had lost a baby over the holiday break. She told Ky the baby had died because she hadn’t eaten for days after their break-up. Ky had freaked. He hadn’t wanted to get married or be a father so early, but he didn’t want the death of his child on his conscience either.

  Tyler tried to tell his twin that his ex probably made up the whole story, just to mess with his head, but Ky was still highly upset. Ty insisted Kyler ask Cicely for proof of the DNC, but she refused to comply.

  Months passed before Ky recovered from the trauma of the ordeal with his manipulative ex-girlfriend. Ty learned from his twin’s bad experience. They had sat down and made themselves a list of rules, their do’s and don’ts for dating. Moreover, they had abided by them. All around them, their friends were dropping like flies. Engagements here, weddings there—rings and orange blossoms everywhere. The Landon brothers, thanks to their rules, managed to avoid any serious entanglements.

  To further complicate matters, an old maid aunt died and left them both a sizeable trust fund. The only stipulation had been they had to be thirty-three years old before they could dip into it. One night at Coyote Ugly, over a bottle of Jose Cuervo, Kyler and Tyler had vowed that if either of them was stupid enough to become engaged or married before age thirty-three, that twin would forfeit his portion of the trust fund to the other.

  For almost a decade, the infamous Ky/Ty treaty proved invaluable. Its very existence dissuaded a few gold-diggers and put off dozens of moon-eyed girls—and their mother’s—with marriage on their minds. Frankly, neither ever tested the terms. For neither of the Landon boys had ever come close to getting serious with anyone after making the deal. Occasionally, one of the boys would date a girl more than a couple of times and the other would sidle up and laughingly remind his brother of the terms of the agreement.

  Although the Ky/Ty agreement wasn’t exactly mythical, it had become something of an urban legend in their part of the world. Unbeknownst to either of the twins, the agreement had become a ‘Need-To-Know’ tidbit their ‘exes’ passed along to any new-comer if she showed any interest in either of the Landon boys. Ky knew, in his heart, if Tyler ever truly fell in love, there was no way in hell he would stand in his way, or deprive him of anything that belonged to him. He was sure his twin felt the same way, but it was a useful tool to dissuade overeager beavers.

  Despite his reputation as a player, in reality, Ky was a gentleman. He was kind, gentle, and he honestly liked the company of women. The problem was he hadn’t found the right one. So, when the nights were long and lonely, like this one, he yearned for someone to hold tight. He wanted someone to cuddle, to spoon with in bed, and whisper about the day’s events.

  Ky wanted a lover.

  ‘Wanted’ was not the best word; Ky needed a lover. Statistics all said a man reached his sexual peak in his late teens, but Kyler Landon was convinced that was a bunch of bull. He had been in his sexual prime for fifteen years, and his desire for sex wasn’t diminishing in the least—it was increasing. The unvarnished truth was Ky loved sex. Right now, he could imagine sinking his engorged cock deep inside the warm, creamy body of a purring female. He couldn’t see her face, but she wanted him so much she was writhing with ecstasy. Damn! Now, he was as hard as rock and not a woman in sight. Hell!

  Throwing the covers off the bed, he laid down, naked as a jaybird. His penis pointed due north, a testimony to the sexual drought he had been enduring. Reluctantly, he took matters into his own hands. Again.

  * * * *

  About a quarter of a mile down the road from Ky’s place, Cooper opened her window and let the cool breeze billow the sheer curtains deep into her bedroom. She had just finished placing her order for a personal vibrator. In just a matter of days, she would be the proud owner of a pink penis, guaranteed to bring her untold delight. Hopefully.

  A bird she was unfamiliar with let out a lonesome cry. Whip-poor-will. Whip-poor-will. She knelt at the window and looked out at the moon, wishing there was someone to watch it with her. She was so desperately lonely. Next week, she was planning on heading to the animal shelter and picking out a pet or two. Her little house wasn’t very big, but there was plenty of room for a dog or a cat.

  Richard would never have allowed animals in the house, but Richard wasn’t there. Thank God. Tears welled up in her eyes and she let them flow, crying soundlessly. She cried for what might have been—for stolen innocence and shattered dreams. She cried over the sad truth a man had married her to provide himself with a built-in punching bag, simply because he knew she had no one to stand up for her or to defend her.

  Hitting had been Richard’s way of getting off. As a public servant, it was necessary he protect his dirty little secret. Even though he had ultimate control in his jurisdiction, Richard had to take precautions. His preferred style of sexual entertainment was the type that could jump up and bite an elected official in the ass. So, to provi
de himself with ample entertainment, he married her. And he had been smart, never hitting her where the bruises would show, concocting stories of her abject clumsiness to provide cover for the multitude of injuries requiring casts, bandages and medical attention.

  Oh, he said he wanted to be normal, to try to have a regular life with her. Normal sex. But Cooper had been lacking in the qualities that could entice a man to make love with her. Richard had enjoyed pointing that sad fact out to her, over and over again. On their wedding night, she had still been naïve; thinking he had married her because he loved her and wanted her. When she had tried to touch him, he had laughed at her efforts. Later, he had shown her what he liked, and it had been a very painful lesson.

  Richard had delighted in the verbal abuse, seemingly more than he had the physical. One of his favorite things to do had been to stand her in front of a mirror and point out her shortcomings, her heavy breasts, her wide hips, her plump thighs, even her dimpled knees. Richard had made Cooper hate her own body.

  On the other hand, Sheriff Richard Hawkins had been very handsome. All the girls in the small border town would swoon when he walked by. He had a bodybuilder’s physique. Cooper learned after they were married, he spent many hours at the gym and in tanning booths. These stolen hours would become precious for Cooper as she learned how to sneak some type of normalcy into an otherwise nightmarish existence. He also spent years taking anabolic steroids. Only recently had she learned how the drugs could adversely affect a person’s personality and ability to control aggression.

  Cooper had been shy, not as popular as some of the cheerleader types – a smart girl with good morals. Orphaned at six, after her mother died in an automobile accident, her step-dad, Dave Monroe had raised her. He was a weak man who needed a woman to give his life direction, hence the marriage to his third wife, Terry.

  Dave and Terry Monroe had been heavily involved in an evangelical church, and Cooper’s young life had been spent going from one religious function to the next. Their love for God, ironically, had not allowed much affection left over for her. Despite her religious fervor, Terry Monroe had not been above threatening Cooper with the possibility of being sent to an orphanage every time her behavior fell short of her stepmother’s rigorous standards.

  Looking back, Cooper realized they hadn’t been exactly mean to her; in fact, they had more or less ignored her unless her actions had displeased them. Therefore, she learned how to please them. Cooper had functioned as a built-in baby sitter to their children and a live-in maid the rest of the time. There wasn’t anyone else to turn to; her own father had never been in the picture, having left her and her mother when Cooper was two.

  When she had turned seventeen, her step-dad was transferred to Denver and they had worked it out so she could stay in their house in Riverbend until graduation, then it had been put on the market. Her one saving grace had been the savings account her mom had set up for her when she was a baby and what was left from her mother’s life insurance policy after all of her burial costs had been subtracted from it. Cooper only heard from the Monroe’s once or twice after graduation and she couldn’t say she missed them at all.

  Not too long after her senior year in high school, Richard Hawkins had come courting. The handsome lawman had swept Cooper off her feet. Older and very self confident, he had seemed to be just what she wanted in a man. Born and raised in Riverbend, he enjoyed a network of cronies that filled every conceivable role in the county’s administration. Law enforcement was his life. He had first served in the military, then worked himself up through the ranks of the highway patrol, then a deputy, and then on to the elected position of High Sheriff.

  Craving someone to put her first and make her feel important, Richard had seemed to fit the bill. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been aware of Richard’s existence before, but as long as her stepfather had been around, Richard had kept his distance. Really, the only contact she had with him had been at church. He had rarely missed a service, ‘keeping up appearances’ she had later learned was his motivation. Looking back, if she had to analyze the situation, she would say her future husband had been attracted to her meek personality and her shyness around the opposite sex. Those traits fed his ego and made him seem even more powerful in his own eyes. She had kept company with him the summer before she had went to college. He had always been very careful with her, usually only double dating, or spending time with friends. There had only been chaste kisses to the forehead or the cheek, never on the lips. He had been quite vocal about what she wore and what she ate, chiding her for indulging in fried foods or dessert. For him, she dressed demurely and called him Sir, at his insistence. These things should have rung some type of warning bell for Cooper, but they hadn’t. She had been so sheltered and unexposed to the ways of the world, she had fallen right into his trap. She had been so innocent, presuming he was a gentleman, never questioning his reluctance to be alone with her or touch her in public. Now, looking back, she knew how unusual all of that behavior had been and she wondered at her own naiveté and tendency to trust. Never again. Now, she was suspicious of everybody.

  Cooper had imagined herself in love with the sheriff. When he had asked her to be faithful to him while at the university, she hadn’t felt it was a hardship at all. He had visited her in Austin a couple of times, and had spent his time coercing her into leaving school and marrying him. Big mistake. If she had stayed in school, maybe she would have developed enough savvy and how-to to extricate herself from the domestic hell she quickly found herself embroiled in.

  Upon her return to Riverbend, they had stood before Richard’s brother—the county judge—and had promised to love, honor and cherish, ‘till death do us part’. Most of the promises had been empty; he had not loved, honored, or cherished her. Instead he had punched, kicked, slapped and beat her. Ultimately, the only part of their marriage vows he had kept sacred, was the ‘death-do-us-part’ stuff.

  Cooper was a little ashamed of her feelings, but not much. She was glad Richard Hawkins was dead. For with his death, had come her freedom. Now, she did the best she could. Living alone was her lot in life, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t learn to have fun. So, everyday, she woke up with the intention of being happy.

  She read, planted a garden, worked on her jewelry design business, and took some online courses to work toward finishing her degree. One of the bright spots in her memory was a professor’s praise and encouragement for her to continue her art studies. Dr. Meleton had claimed she would have been his star pupil if she would just stay in school.

  There wasn’t a day that went by she didn’t thank her lucky stars she had been fortunate enough to meet Lisa in art class. Lisa had been hardheaded and insisted on keeping in touch with her. If it hadn’t been for her friend, she would never have gotten the courage or the opportunity to leave Riverbend and find a safe place to start over. Lisa had even helped her get her jewelry in some boutiques, including the one Lisa owned in New Mexico. Most of all, she was grateful to her friend for this little cabin, a hide-a-way where she could regroup and get her feet on the ground.

  Cooper also enjoyed practicing her cooking skills and one day she was going to have someone over for dinner, or maybe, even have a party! Wow, that would be something. After three months, she hadn’t made any friends to speak of, but there was always hope. A couple of guys had tried to talk to her at the grocery store, but she hadn’t encouraged them. It was just too soon. Besides, they would ultimately be disappointed in her. Maybe, if she went on a really strict diet. Until then, she would just focus on getting better. Now, if she wanted to get her guy fix, she was reconciled to buying a Playgirl or driving very slowly past her handsome neighbor’s house.

  Through the woods she could see lights, and she realized they must be from his house—K. Landon. She didn’t think he was married, she had never seen any evidence of it. However, the idea that someone like him was unattached was laughable. She wondered what he was doing, what he was thinking. Could he be lonely, too?


  * * * *

  About a week later…

  Kyler Landon smoothed the supple leather with a large, roughened hand. The saddle was almost completed. This particular saddle would go to the Houston Livestock Rodeo and be presented to the current World Champion cowboy. It was solitary work, but work he enjoyed. Tooling patterns on the leather was his favorite thing, this one had a vine pattern, and the brand of the cowboy’s ranch figured prominently in the design. Letting his mind wander, he found himself caressing the leather, remembering the last time he touched the velvety skin of a woman. Stop! He tried to turn his mind away from sex. He tortured himself night after night with images of a soft, sweet woman who would welcome him between her thighs. He wanted a woman who would let him love her as much and as often as he wanted. A woman that would enjoy his loving as much as he enjoyed loving her.

  It had been a long time, too damn long. Dallying with the local girls could get you into a whole passel of trouble—especially a man in his position.

  The sound of a vehicle stopping at his front gate pulled him from his sensual reverie. He imagined it was the mysterious little black car from down the road, but he knew better. This was a bigger engine. Sometimes, when he was working out in the front yard, that car would go by and slow down to a crawl. The windows were tinted completely black, a great deal darker than was legal, he knew. So, he was at a disadvantage. He couldn’t see who was behind the wheel, but whoever it was could sure the hell see him. And they had looked, long and hard. He could actually, physically, feel their gaze on his skin.

  Hell, he had even fantasized about who was driving that sexy little car. Once, when he had been working on the front fence without a shirt, the driver had actually run off the road. That fact had made him smile. Whoever it was, he was getting to them. As his luck ran, however, the driver was probably a woman in her seventies or a man in his forties. But one could dream.