Holding the Truth

by Calle J. Brookes

  Lou was going to end up hurting someone, and it might very well be the people Charlie wanted to protect. Lou had shown up again, just as Charlie was getting ready to eat.

  The cabin didn’t have much, not even a microwave. Or a freezer. Charlie had solved the problem of food with a small camp stove that ran on propane. And lots of soup and canned meals.

  Not exactly what he was accustomed to. His Celia was one hell of a good cook. He’d lost a good forty pounds since April, just because he was cooking for himself.

  But he didn’t have any to share with Lou. And damn it, it wasn’t his job to take care of Lou any longer. “What do you want, Lou?”

  “That damned Addy. I want him away from Bailey.”

  “You’re just going to have to let your girl live her own life. Addy’s not going to do a damned thing to her. Not that she doesn’t want, anyway.” Just like he had to stay back and let Celia get on with her own life.

  To be honest, he wouldn’t have had a problem with Clay Addy being interested in Celia. “The guy’s a good man, Lou. I’ve met him many times before.”

  “He’s probably no better than his old man. Always panting after women, hitting that wife of his. I won’t have a man like that in Bailey’s life. She deserves better.”

  “She deserves whoever will make her happy,” Charlie said quietly. “And who are you to decide who that is, Lou? You’ve done lost that right. Same as I have with my girl.”

  “But you’re here. Watching her, too.”

  Yes. And he wasn’t proud of it. As soon as he was certain Celia was happy and safe—that damned killer of Lou’s was still out there—he was leaving.

  Going to build himself a new life in Mexico. He already had money and property down there that he’d purchased more than fifteen years ago.

  In case what he had done to Celia had ever been discovered. “Until they catch that killer, I’m not going anywhere. But I have a plan. I suggest you make one, too.”

  Lou smirked. The madness behind the expression had Charlie’s gut tightening. His ulcer flaring. “I got me one. I’m going to take care of Bailey, Charlie. You’d better believe it. I owe it to my girl. And I’m going to pay up.”

  Charlie hesitated. “Don’t hurt Addy, Lou. That would be one of the stupidest things you could possibly do.”

  Chapter 67

  Clay seemed to want to challenge her over everything.

  She followed him up the porch steps. She was going to put him in his bed and settle in at his home office. Bailey knew he had to have one. Clay was the type to go home each night and go right to his office, if something was gnawing at him deeply enough.

  And then she’d camp on his couch. Just in case.

  "Go home, Moore. I don't want you here. I’m going to pop some aspirin and sleep. Get back in your boyfriend's fancy truck and get out of here."

  "It's not my boyfriend's truck." It was one that had been owned by the Dillons for a while. Bert had restored it himself in his spare time. He had her car in his back garage now, working on something she didn't quite know how to fix. “You know that.”

  "Hell, Bailey. Bert taught me and Jake to drive in that old thing. Where's your little car?" He unlocked his front door with hands that fumbled.

  Bailey watched him carefully. She'd stopped and gotten his pain medication filled herself. And refused to drive him anywhere until he'd downed two with the juice she'd snagged at the pharmacy counter.

  "Bert’s fixing it right now. A converter or something went out of it."

  He just grunted. Clay Addy was an expert at manly grunts that told a woman absolutely nothing. She followed him inside, taking her first look around his home.

  It seemed a little...temporary. Not much like Clay at all. At least not that she knew of him. He only had a few photos on the wall—mostly of him, Micah, Jake, and Kyra. Some of his cousins.

  Nothing more than that. It was almost as if he’d just moved in, rather than having been there the three years she had heard from Veri he’d lived there.

  He immediately pulled the rain-and-blood-soaked shirt off, exposing far too much man muscle to her eyes. His hands went to his jeans. Bailey protested.

  That's when she saw the light in his eyes.

  He was trying to run her off on purpose.

  "It's not going to happen. I'm not going anywhere. Veri scares me more than you ever will," she told him, flatly. "So any tricks your thinking about you might as well forget. I’m supposed to babysit you tonight. Or until Veri’s shift ends. You sleep. I’m going to work out here. Just yell if you need me.”

  ***

  He needed her all right. Having Bailey in his house, as close to being in his cave as possible made him feel like that damned caveman. Clay could pull her into his bedroom and help her out of her uniform. He could just hold her against him for a minute or two. Or forever.

  He didn't want her in that uniform, reminding him that she worked for him. He didn't want that. He wanted her...in so many other ways.

  Ways he was never going to tell her about. But when his defenses were down, he wasn’t certain he could control himself. His damned head was hurting, and every defense he had against her was gone.

  "Go home."

  "Not happening." Her chin shot up. He almost smiled. She didn't stand a chance. He could out-stubborn Bailey in an instant. “Veri asked me to stay with you. She was worried. And I'm doing just that.”

  He tossed the sweatshirt in his hand toward the back of the couch. It missed. He hadn't accounted for the stitches in his arm. He about lost it when Bailey bent over and grabbed it. The uniform fit her fine in the rear—that was for sure. "I'm getting out of these wet, muddy clothes, falling across my mattress, and not moving until morning. Do you plan to stick around and watch me breathe?"

  "Sorry. Not happening."

  "Not just from here. I want you gone. Away from the TSP. Far away from it. Far from me."

  She flinched like he'd struck her.

  That's when the words he'd said sank in. Clay’s gut tightened. The hurt on her face struck him hard. And he’d put it there. "Hell, Bailey, I'm sorry. Not like that. I didn't mean it like that."

  "Sure, you didn't. You never have made any secret about how you felt about me working here."

  She stood. Turned to confront him. She looked him straight on. Her spine stiffened. Clay stepped closer. "Bail—"

  "I get it, Clay. You don’t want me anywhere near you. Because this attraction is too inconvenient for you. I’m not stupid. Maybe I was, before what happened with my father. But I’ve grown up since then. And I’m not an idiot. I know you watch me, and you want me. I also know you’re too much of a coward to do anything about it. Well, news flash—I’ve never asked you to do anything.”

  He heard the hurt in her words, and he flinched. The last thing on earth he'd ever wanted to do was hurt Bailey.

  When he saw the tears building in the blue eyes, he cursed.

  Clay stepped closer. Screw the stitches in his arm, the bruises on his ribs. He was getting to her. His hands went around her waist, as he said her name again. Then again.

  She stood there, in his damned living room, looking up at him like he was the monster in her nightmares. But she didn’t step away. "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  "Do you constantly do this to me? Confuse me? I should just go. I didn't want to be here in the first place. But Veri...there was no one else."

  True. Other than his cousins, who were spread out over three counties, he had no one. Not his mother, certainly. He had Veri, he had Jake and Micah and Bert. That was it.

  His life looked a little long and bleak at the moment.

  His fingers spread over her back and her waist. Small. Delicate. Feminine.

  Perfect. She was perfect.

  It was time he made her see that. Time she realized he didn't hate her like she thought. That what he felt for her was so far from hate. “I don’t...it’s me, Bailey. I’m the idiot. A constant, stupid coward of an idiot. I didn’
t mean to hurt you.”

  He lifted, pulling her off her feet. Until they were chest to chest. Her uniform top was still damp from the rain. It pressed to his naked flesh. It didn't matter. Clay still burned.

  He always would with Bailey. It was the truth.

  He was holding it close for one more damned time.

  Bailey Moore was his truth. It was time he accepted that.

  "What are you doing?" Her words came out breathless as hell. Her fingers spread over his shoulders. His gut tightened. Lower.

  She wasn’t pushing him away.

  "What in the hell do you think I'm about to do?"

  "Clay...” Blue eyes were wide, her lip trembled. “I...don’t know what you want from me. What we’re supposed to do now.”

  “Bailey,” he practically breathed her name. “I just need to answer a question I’ve had for far too damned long.”

  He pressed his lips to hers.

  ***

  Clay was kissing her.

  Bailey just clung. Before she could get her mind around it, he'd deepened the kiss. Her hands just...clung to his broad shoulders like a burr.

  He tasted like fire and heat and spice. And man.

  Bailey's lips opened almost as if by their own accord. Which was stupid.

  It was a choice to kiss him back.

  She understood that. So why did she feel like so much was suddenly out of her control?

  She could pull away from him if she wanted to. So what if he was almost a foot taller and stronger and so...him she could barely think straight?

  She could just walk away. Bailey had no doubt if she said stop, he would pull back immediately.

  She trusted him that way completely.

  But Bailey didn't stop him.

  Instead, one hand rose to the back of his head. Her fingers curled in the dark hair that brushed his collar. Held him.

  One of his hands dropped to her rear. He cupped her there.

  Then somehow her leg found its way up to hook around his hip. He arched closer.

  And she felt him.

  Hot, hard, perfect pressed up against her where it mattered the most.

  The hand on her rear slipped up, pulling her uniform shirt from her waistband. Then his fingers touched her skin. His fingers burned where they touched. She gasped.

  He smiled.

  It was the smile that did it. Left her feeling more unsettled than she wanted to think about.

  Bailey jerked away. "What are you doing?"

  What are we doing?

  ***

  Clay forced the beast that was threatening to break free back to where he belonged. He was not going to devour her. No matter how much he wanted to. He shouldn’t have kissed her at all. It had been a stupid mistake in a weak moment. But it wasn’t too late to salvage some of his defenses. "You'd better get out of here, Bailey. Or I'm going to do something we'll both regret in the morning. But you...better get gone."

  He understood his cousin Houghton now. How Mel had gotten under the other man’s skin. Understood why his ancestors had just carried away the women they loved.

  Clay wanted to scoop her up and carry her to his bed, damn his headache and every bit of common sense he possessed.

  Bailey pulled back. Her words were soft when she spoke. Her hands were still tight on his shoulders. "I...am supposed to stay. Make sure you're ok. I promised Veri I would."

  "Honey, I'm perfectly fine right now. Veri will get over it.” He cupped her cheek with one hand. Soft. Her bottom lip trembled. His gut tightened. Clay forgot all about his headache. He was touching Bailey. Finally. "You'd better go. Now.”

  ***

  She hadn’t felt like that with a man in a very long time.

  Bailey was still shaking from the intensity of it.

  Unlike her previous relationships, which had evolved out of friendship and respect, this kiss had been one of pure lust. Hunger.

  His wrapped around her left shoulder. "Bailey..."

  She turned. Green eyes stared down at her from his far too handsome face. Eyes filled with regret.

  Here it came. Him telling her why there could be nothing between them. Him being too afraid to even try.

  She wasn’t going to let her life be filled with fear.

  Even fear of this.

  Bailey pulled her hands up between them.

  His chest was still bare. He had a line of dark chest hair that tickled her fingers where her hands rested. And he was built lean and hard. He was a fine-looking man and always had been. He'd intimidated her from the very beginning. At first because of how he looked, second because he didn’t want her around.

  "What do you want me to say, Clay?”

  "Hell, I don't know. I just know I don't want you to leave. Which is why you should. You should run far from me. I am not the kind of man you need. I don’t do relationships—not with women like you. You need a man like Jake. One who believes in happily-ever-after."

  "You don't?" She didn’t know much about this man in front of her, not really. Because he’d pushed her away from day one.

  "I haven't seen many examples of it, honey."

  "I think it exists. For the lucky people. Like Kyra and Cam." And Elliot Marshall and his wife. They were in love. Bailey had no doubt about that. “It exists; I know it does.”

  Clay pulled her closer. Bailey thought about squirming against him. Of pointing out that she wasn't a child—and he didn't have a right to touch her like this. But she didn't.

  She just...didn't.

  "That ass Cam will screw things up eventually. Men like him always do."

  "You're wrong. He's wonderful. Kyra is so lucky." Even Bailey heard the longing in her own words. "He idolizes her, and they balance each other out."

  He snorted.

  "You just don't like him because you wanted Kyra." Bailey bit her lip after she said it. But she'd seen how he'd looked at her friend before. If there had ever been a woman Clay Addy had been the least little bit interested in, it had been Kyra. But Kyra had also been involved with his best friend Micah, too.

  "I was once attracted to her. For about five minutes, when I was twenty-one or -two. She was always Micah's girl. If you think otherwise, you’re wrong."

  "Women don't belong to men. They are nobody's girl. Kyra and Cam love each other. I'm sorry it didn't work out for her and your friend. Or for you and her, if that's what you wanted. But it is her deal. And she's happy with Cam. Just like...just like any woman would be happy with Jake."

  Clay tensed against her. "Would they?"

  "Yes. Jake is the kind of man who will love deeply when he finds the right woman."

  "What about with me? Would a woman like you be happy with a man like me? Gone all the time, angry three-quarters of the time. Set in my ways..."

  Bailey couldn't give him an answer to that. But something was starting to make sense to her. Clay compared himself to Jake in that convoluted man brain of his—and found himself lacking.

  She’d never would have thought Clay would feel that insecure about himself. It had her thoughts shifting a bit. Comparing the two men herself. Wondering a few things she’d never thought about before. She finally pulled away from him. "I'm going home now."

  "That's probably the smartest idea." He lowered her to the floor. Pulled his hands back deliberately. She didn’t miss the way his hands trembled. But what it meant—she didn’t have a clue. He was afraid. That was all it boiled down to. She scared him. She scared him. Exactly as she was. She needed to figure out why. And that meant she had to talk to the one person who knew Clay best. "Go.”

  Bailey went.

  Chapter 68

  When Bailey made it back to the Dillon ranch, night had fallen, Liam and Bert were both in bed, but Jake was still working on his classwork. He’d recently taken up teaching an intro to history class and was doing his best to get his semester assignments prepped before August.

  He rolled into the living room when he heard her unlock the door.

  "Hey, baby. Rou
gh night?"

  She nodded. She'd spent the forty-minute drive home thinking of what had happened—and Jake. Comparing the two men. How they made her feel. How they interacted. Who they were when they thought she wasn’t watching.

  One question had burned in her mind most of the way. "Why haven't we ever kissed?"

  Jake’s green eyes—a darker green than Clay’s—widened. "Excuse me? Say that again."

  "Clay...he thinks you and I are involved. I think a lot of people believe we are." With Jake, she’d always been able to say anything. “And he doesn’t think he can—or should—-compete. With you.”

  "So? I don't care if people think we’re sleeping together. I'd be honored to sleep with you. If you're offering." He flashed a wicked grin at her. A sexy one, if she wanted to be honest. So why did it not heat her gut the way Clay’s grumbly one an hour earlier had?

  "I'm not—although you’ll be the first to know if that ever changes. I'm just wondering why we've never even thought about it before."

  Jake shot her a look. One with a bit more heat than she would have expected from him. "I've thought about it. I'm a healthy, red-blooded male, Bailey. I like what I see. A lot. But...I don't think a relationship is what either of us is ready for right now. I know I'm not. And you weren’t exactly in a good place for a relationship at first.”

  She nodded. Liam's mother hadn't been the love of his life. They'd discussed Jake’s former lover in great detail before. But he had cared about her. They'd ended their relationship before Liam had been born, though. When she'd died during delivery, Jake had been there. For his son.

  "I guess I shouldn't say that I’m not ready. I think I could be. With the right woman. If there was something between us, I'd go after it with both hands." He rolled closer and turned the chair sideways. He wrapped one hand around hers and tugged lightly. "Come here."

  Bailey ended up in his lap. His hands slipped around her waist.

  "Jake, what are you doing?" Her lips twitched at the leer he shot her. It would probably work on a woman—other than her.

  "Testing this theory. See, I'm of two minds about you, Bailey Jane. Either, you're a firecracker and I'll burn up kissing you the first time. And I’ve considered that in my calculations. You know, hidden depths, still waters, and all that. Or...it'll be like kissing my sister. Depending on what the day is, I can lean either way. So... Let's try it out."