by Nicole Helm
And he had absolutely zero business even thinking about the state of his sex life with Hayley anywhere near him.
He took a deep breath as he realized he was only a few seconds away from panic. Which was ridiculous. Why was he panicking? His former self would have a heyday at the thought of him panicking over a little shoulder touch.
But he wasn’t his former self, and there had been a tense, painfully tempting moment when Hayley had looked at him and he had wanted something.
Talk about your walking nightmares.
He took a deep breath and then another. A nightmare. This was Brandon and Will’s sister. This was his self-imposed isolation. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with her. Even if he should begin with her, which he shouldn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.
Slowly and ruthlessly, he calmed himself. Breath by breath, second by second. He’d had a little lapse in sanity, but now he was all better.
Dressed and moderately ahold of himself, Sam entered the main room from the bathroom. Never in all of his years living here had it felt too small. Because never in all his years of building this cabin and living here had anyone come inside except Brandon, Will, and Lilly. Even though they could annoy the crap out of him, they never made him feel claustrophobic.
Their half sister was obviously a different story.
It was just another way this life of his made him feel like two separate people. Because once upon a time, a pretty woman anywhere near him would have turned him into a charming, self-assured, son of a bitch. He would’ve flirted. Endlessly. He would’ve been a completely and utterly different man. Regardless of how she was related to Will and Brandon. It never would’ve bothered him.
He’d been an even worse asshole than he was now. And that was certainly saying something. Maybe one of these days he could find a personality that wasn’t awful.
Not fucking likely.
Hayley dutifully sat at his kitchen table, looking calm and placid, as though this was completely normal and even pleasant. He kind of wanted to throttle her.
“I’m going to make some oatmeal,” he growled.
She nodded dutifully, and he could almost pretend she wasn’t a constant trial to him.
“And you’re going to eat some.” When she pulled a face, he made his look more stern. “You need to build some muscle if you’re going to do some of the things this job requires. Which means eating some decent food. Nuts, oatmeal, fruit—all of the above. Whether you like them or not.”
He could tell she wanted to argue with him. Probably since it was none of his business whether she built muscle. He was more than a little entertained, against his will, that even with the mutinous expression on her face, she was just sitting there. Not talking.
It made him a little bit curious how far she would take this. What it would take to break her. Which was a far more pleasant thought path than his previous one.
He went about the process of making the oatmeal, and Hayley didn’t say a word. Every time he snuck a glance at her, she was staring at something different in the cabin. Considering there weren’t that many things to stare at, it was quite a feat.
But she seemed to take in each thing and read some special meaning into it. It was like by looking at his cabin, she could look into his soul.
Which was further proof he was losing it. Who could read anything about his soul by looking around this sparse place?
Once the oatmeal was ready, he put a heaping dollop into his one and only bowl, which he placed on the table in front of Hayley. He then put his share into a large coffee mug. He only had the one chair inside, so he leaned against the wall and watched her make faces at the oatmeal while he ate his.
“In fact, I don’t think you can go with me unless you eat every last bite.”
She opened her mouth and closed it, her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. He very nearly smiled.
With no warning, she popped up out of her chair and came way too close to him for any kind of comfort. But all she did was grab a pen from the little tray on the counter behind him. Then she snatched the piece of paper that he’d left on the counter with Lilly’s drawing of the altar she wanted.
Hayley cocked her head at the picture, but then she flipped it over to the blank side and fiercely scribbled before shoving the paper at him.
Two questions were written and numbered on the page. First: You can’t keep adding rules until I break one—that’s not fair. Second: Why do you have this picture?
“First of all, I’m in charge. I can add as many rules as I want. I’ve never been accused of being fair. Second . . .” He didn’t have to tell her, but . . . Who the hell knew why he felt compelled? “Lilly and Brandon are getting married soon, and asked me to build that for the wedding.”
Hayley took the paper and flipped it back over, studying the picture thoughtfully, before she turned that considering gaze to him.
Again he felt like she was reading something into him, something honest and true. Something he definitely didn’t want her to know. Which was ridiculous. He didn’t give a shit what she thought of him, or so he’d like to tell himself.
But, regardless of whether he cared per se, or not, he wondered: What kind of picture of him was she building inside her head? What did she think made him the man who stood before her, gruff and mostly an unfeeling dick?
When was the last time he’d wondered what somebody thought of him? On that deep, honest level he tried so very hard to avoid?
“Eat your oatmeal,” he grumbled, in an exceedingly painful effort to get Hayley and his stupid thoughts out of his head. But, even though he wasn’t looking at her, he could feel that steady, thoughtful gaze of hers.
After a few more bites, he sighed. “You can talk if you’ll stop staring at me.”
“You just look so different.”
He grunted, noting she’d at least taken a few bites of the oatmeal.
“Very nearly human.”
“And what did I look like before?” he replied acidly.
“Part bear. Part bigfoot. Maybe like ten percent human.”
“You really think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“I didn’t used to.” She grinned at him, and the last thing he wanted was more of her rumination on change and healing and crap.
“I sincerely don’t have time to teach you any technique on this first excursion. You’re going to have to promise me to sit to the side and watch. I’m serious about this. If you take so much as a step on that rock wall—you’re done here. Permanently.”
“Okay.” She swallowed another spoonful of oatmeal, of course making a disgusted face the whole time, but she still watched him. Considering. Thoughtful.
It took every last grip on his control not to growl at her. He only resisted because he was sure if she understood how unnerving that gaze was, she’d use it on him mercilessly.
Hayley appeared to be all sweetness and fluff and gentle, completely unwanted touches, but there was something dangerous underneath all that, and he’d be damned if he was going to find out what it was.
No matter how much a part of him might want to.
* * *
Watching the rock-climbing expedition was fascinating. At first, she figured she’d be bored watching Sam lead five people up the rock cliff that formed the side of a mountain.
Then they’d started.
She could pretend she’d watched how everyone twisted and pulled and swung themselves about, but her gaze kept getting drawn back to Sam. It would almost be like watching a ballet if it weren’t for all the grunting and swearing the guys, and one girl, were doing.
Surprisingly, Sam was the one doing the least of that. Maybe because he was clearly the strongest one and it wasn’t as hard for him. He seemed to reach up, muscles straining and glistening with sweat in the early morning sun, and then pull and swing his leg to wherever it needed to go with almost no effort at all. The only hint it was hard was that he was sweating, and she could see the bulge of his bicep, or the quivering power
of his quadriceps.
This wasn’t a bad gig at all, watching Sam rock climb. No, she didn’t mind getting paid for this in the least.
The group reached the top of the cliff. Hayley shaded her eyes against the sun, glad Sam had testily ordered her to put on sunscreen, and watched as the small group chatted and seemed to catch their breath at the top of the summit they’d climbed.
She wanted to learn how to do it, mostly because it seemed like a challenge—both mental and physical—and she thought she might want to meet a few of those kinds of challenges before she figured out how to face all her emotional ones. But she didn’t think she’d ever be quite like Sam, quickly and easily leading a group of customers up the cliff face.
She’d probably stick to hiking. Maybe kayaking, though the river kind of scared her. She was very intrigued with camping, but that might only be because it would allow her to spend the night with Sam.
Very platonically, of course.
Eventually the group began to rappel back down, Sam first, then the rest of them with Sam’s guidance.
When everyone reached the bottom, most of them took off after packing up the tools and clips and ropes, but the guy she’d been calling Mr. Cool in her head sauntered her way.
“You live in that little town we drove through?” he asked, kneeling next to her, casually unclipping the hooks from his belt and tossing them somewhat carelessly into a bag a few feet away.
“Oh, well, yeah. Gracely,” she said, attempting to sound sure while offering a polite smile—something definitely not true of Sam’s approach.
But she didn’t have to be Sam, she just had to pick up some ideas on how to seem in charge, like someone people should listen to.
“Sure. Right. Got any good places to eat down there?” He stood and rested his foot against a rock right next to where Hayley was sitting.
“Um, no places . . . Well, the Gracely Lodge might serve dinner, I’m not sure.” She offered a shrug and her politest smile. She was glad she’d forced Sam into letting her observe, because she clearly had some work to do when it came to interacting with people in a leadership role. Another mental challenge she needed to face.
Mr. Cool grinned at her. “You free?”
“F-free?” Free? Like for dinner? Hayley could only stare at him with her mouth hanging open. Was he asking her out?
“Get your gear together, Raj,” Sam’s voice commanded, the loudness and sharpness of the tone nearly causing Hayley to jump.
She needed to work on that too. Giving a sharp, direct order. It didn’t escape her notice, especially with Raj asking her out to dinner—seriously, asking her out—that she was going to have to work harder than Sam to be taken seriously.
She was tall, but she was slight. She tended to stutter, and even when she was standing up to Sam her voice was never commanding. Certainly not enough to make Raj scurry to his gear when Sam cracked out that order.
Everyone packed up their bags, and Hayley dutifully followed the group. But after only a few minutes, Raj held back so that he was walking with her.
“So, you didn’t answer my question. Are you free for dinner tonight?”
“Oh. Um. I’m sorry. I’m busy.” Which wasn’t a lie. She was busy—grocery shopping, calling home, and generally not going on an awkward date.
“No worries,” Raj said cheerfully enough, but he dug around in his bag until he pulled out a business card. “My cell’s on there if you change your mind.”
He offered it to her with a pleasant smile. Compared to Sam, he wasn’t exactly the hottest guy she’d had a conversation with lately, but the conversation was pleasant, which was never the case with Sam.
And why are you comparing him to Sam at all?
She took the business card, because she didn’t know how to gracefully decline. “Thanks,” she said, wondering if she should change her mind. Maybe she should be pushing herself to date, have sex, have a social life of any kind. That’s what normal people her age were doing.
“We’re not back by two, the late fee’s on you,” Sam growled from somewhere at the head of the group.
Raj slid her a glance, then looked thoughtfully at Sam, then back at her, but he didn’t say anything else, and they reached the Mile High van Sam had collected earlier in the day. Everyone climbed in, Sam and Hayley in the front, the customers in the back.
They would have to drop everyone back at headquarters, and Hayley hoped, like this morning, she could avoid seeing Brandon or Will.
Sam drove back to headquarters, and Hayley wondered why on earth his hands were so tight on the steering wheel that his knuckles turned white. It wasn’t a particularly tough drive, but he seemed especially tense.
As all the customers got out at Mile High, Hayley walked as furtively as she could manage to Sam’s Jeep.
“Be back in a few,” he muttered, tossing her the keys.
She plucked them out of midair, probably too pleased with herself for such an easy display of athleticism. But she was pleased. She might even choke down more oatmeal tomorrow morning.
Preferably with Sam, looking all hot, making it for her.
She rolled her eyes at herself. Her silly thoughts were getting out of control. and it made her a little too teenager giddy.
But in seconds flat that happy feeling died an icy death. Because just as Sam stepped inside Mile High, Brandon stepped out. They stood there on the porch, chatting about something, and Hayley could only stare.
Her brother. Half. Half brother.
As if he sensed eyes on him, Brandon glanced beyond Sam, his gaze meeting hers. Same hazel eyes as hers. Same blood. This man had known the man who’d paid her mother to disappear. He’d been raised by that man, and from what the town liked to spout about the Evans brothers, raised very much in Phillip Evans’s image.
Hayley looked away, something like fear and shame and relief swirling through her all at once.
She wasn’t sure how long she fumbled with Sam’s keys, how foolish she looked clambering into his Jeep like a landlocked fish. But no matter how long she gasped for air and felt like a complete and utter drama queen, no one appeared.
Eventually her breathing calmed and she had the courage to glance back at the porch. Sam and Brandon had disappeared.
Hayley couldn’t explain her extreme reaction. She thought she’d been making progress. Heck, she’d risked being here. How could it hit her so hard, that she was related to Brandon, who was intimately acquainted with the man who’d wanted to erase her and her mother’s existence?
Hayley closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. When Mack and Mom had gotten married, there’d been a few months of family counseling. Mack had thought it might be a good, healthy start to their new family.
They’d stopped when the therapist had started touching on Mom’s relationship with Hayley’s father. It was the pattern of her life: Anyone got close to that subject, it got killed real quick. Mom had taught her to lie about it before she’d taught her to tie her shoes.
Our little secret.
Was that why she wasn’t brave enough to face it now? Would she ever get over it?
The driver’s door opened and Hayley managed to open one eye, more than a little relieved to see Sam, and only Sam, climb into the driver’s seat.
He said nothing, just started the engine and backed out of the parking spot. As they drove out of the lot, Raj was at his car, waving and grinning.
Hayley smiled back. She might not want to date the man, especially since she knew next to nothing about him, but it had been a nice little ego boost to be asked.
“Rule number one,” Sam said, his voice a vibrating, rusty thing. “Aside from all safety rules—absolutely no flirting with the customers.”
Hayley gaped at him as he glared at the road. No . . . flirting . . . She . . . How dare Sam blame her? She’d been too shocked to encourage anyone, certainly too terrible at it to flirt back.
“Well, what an interesting rule,” she said, trying to sound cheerful bu
t certain her tone was just acid. “As I was not flirting. I was being flirted at.”
Sam snorted, and she wanted to hit him. Really hard. He parked his Jeep next to her car and jutted his chin toward it. “Just keep it in mind.”
She did not get out like he clearly wanted her to. Instead, she turned to him. “I don’t even know how to flirt!”
“My ass,” he ground out, still not looking at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded, trying to keep the indignant screech out of her voice.
He flicked her a disdainful glance. “It means you’re cute, and you’re young, and why the hell wouldn’t you be flirting with what’s-his-ass?” He pushed out of the Jeep and Hayley was almost too shocked to follow him.
Had he called her cute?
Was that insulting? Or complimentary? He thought she was cute? Finally she got her wits about her to scramble after him. He was already halfway up the path to his cabin.
“I wasn’t flirting,” she yelled after him, not quite sure why it was important Sam believed her on this.
“I don’t care. I’m just telling you the rules.”
She started to jog, since otherwise she was never going to catch up to his long, powerful, ground-eating strides. “And to that, I say my ass.”
He whirled. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, echoing her previous question.
“It means you aren’t just telling me the rules. There’s more to this little outburst. It doesn’t make any sense to be angry over someone flirting with me, and not the other way around. I don’t believe you’re that much of a mountain hermit not to know the difference.”
“You smiled and waved.”
“It’s called being polite and friendly.”
“You took his card.”
“How did you possibly see that?” she asked, throwing her arms in the air with exasperation.
“Aha!” he said, pointing at her as if he’d caught her in some great lie. “You took his card. That is flirting.”
“Because I was supposed to tell him to shove it? I may be trying to emulate parts of you, Sam. But not all parts.” She fisted her hands on her hips, pretty sure he was about to give her a headache from pounding her head against the rock-hard surface of his irrationality. “You can’t tell me women never flirt with you.”