Scrubbing his hands over his face, he slumped back against the wall. Face the facts, man. His return to Spearfish hadn’t been about helping out an old friend or an excuse to checkup on his sister. He’d come back for her. Now that he realized the magnitude of the mistake he’d made years ago, how could he walk away? Now that he was certain she’d always been the one for him?
Worse yet, if he loved her, how could he close the center?
A soft rapping on the door ripped him from his reverie. “Billy? Look, I hate to screw and run, but I’ve got to get back.”
He grinned at her phrasing, hoping it indicated there’d be no awkward silences between them on the drive back to the center.
Eden primly crossed her bare legs. She hadn’t bothered putting her nylons back on. As she surveyed the landscape out the window of the rental car, she sensed Billy’s confusion. He’d tried to delve into what’d happened and she’d blatantly ignored him. And she’d practically jumped from his car when he pulled up at the community center.
Shelby didn’t pester her about the overly long lunch but Eden’s relief was short-lived. She’d nearly ducked into the safety of her office when a soft voice startled her.
“Aha! I knew I’d catch you goofing off someday.”
Eden faced her friend, Tate LeBeau. “As you can see, I’m back at the grindstone.”
Tate’s blue eyes turned shrewd. “What’s up with those rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes?” Her gaze traveled up Eden’s exposed shins and narrowed on a spot below her ear.
Dammit. Had Billy given her a hickey? Ten years ago he’d delighted in marking her his, everywhere, but he’d outgrown that impulse, hadn’t he? Eden resisted the urge to rub her neck.
Unfortunately, Billy chose that moment to saunter around the corner. His contented smirk disappeared and he stopped dead in his tracks. Eden suspected their guilt was obvious.
“Oh my God. Billy Buchanan? Is that really you?”
“In the flesh.”
Tate rushed forward, blond hair flying as she enveloped him in a hug. “It’s good to see you, even though I haven’t forgiven you for leaving Nathan in the lurch all those years ago.” She whapped him lightly on the arm. “Poor man was forced to finish the fire station project all by himself.”
Billy had the grace to blush. “I wish I’d had another choice.” His troubled gaze connected with Eden’s before he gave Tate a boyish grin. “You look exactly the same.”
She patted her pregnant belly. “Not exactly.”
“Dare I ask how many kids make up the LeBeau household these days?”
“This one is number five.” With pride she rattled off, “Sophie is seven, Ben is five, the twins, Michael and Sasha are three.”
He whistled. “Been a busy decade. How is Nathan?”
Tate beamed the pure sunshine of a woman wildly in love. “Wonderful. Business is great. He has four fulltime employees, which means he has time to coach the kids’ various sports teams and knock me up on a regular basis.”
When Eden attempted to sneak into her office to let them catch up, Tate firmly grabbed her elbow. “Excuse us. Eden and I have some…ah, issues to discuss.” She propelled Eden into the office, slammed the door and clicked the metal blinds shut.
No escape. Pregnancy hormones seemed to have given Tate super-human strength and eagle-eyed detection skills. “Spill it, girl. How long have you been sleeping with Billy?”
Eden didn’t bother to lie; Tate knew her too well. “Since about an hour ago.” She skirted the desk but was too wired to sit. “Don’t start.” During Eden’s teenage years, Tate had become her mentor at the community center. Eleven years later, Tate was still a mentor, but also a close friend, so Tate was aware of Eden’s devastation when Billy had abruptly left her life.
“You expecting a lecture? From me? You know better. No bull. What is going on?”
“If I tell you I don’t know, will you believe me?”
“Yes.” Tate’s eyes softened. “Talk to me.”
The words tumbled out in a rush. “This is all so surreal. Get this: Billy’s working for Feather Light, deciding the future of the community center, which means my future is in his hands.” She inhaled a deep yoga breath to keep the hysteria at bay. “But from the minute Billy walked in the door, it hasn’t been about business, or my future, but our past.”
“I imagine that drives you crazy.”
“Not only haven’t I seen any of his notes regarding the center, I have to deal with my stupid hormones wanting to get naked with him. All. The. Damn. Time. When he smiles at me, every professional thought sails right out of my head.” A shiver moved through her. “Maybe I’m more like my mother than I want to admit.”
Memories of men parading out of her mother’s room in the early morning hours flashed in Eden’s mind. Whenever her mother stared into space, mooning over some new guy she’d met at work, inevitably her mom lost her job.
“Eden LaCroix, you are nothing like your mother,” Tate muttered. “Although sometimes I wish you were.”
Her astonished gaze snapped back to Tate. “What?”
“You’re so caught up in making sure your reputation in this community is beyond reproach, you’ve forgotten there’s more to life than work. No one will begrudge you a relationship.”
“With the man who’s come here to shut down the community center?” Eden said incredulously. “How could I ever explain my way out of that?”
“Billy already told you he’s closing you down?”
“No. Whenever he gets within three feet of me, we both forget the real reason he’s here.” But he’d mentioned concrete concerns in the car. Had he been serious? Or angling for an excuse to relive their delicious lunch? Sad thing was, it wouldn’t take much to convince her she should spend all of her meals with him, stripped bare and screaming for another course.
“Regardless of the business end of things, he still cares for you,” Tate said.
“You can’t know that. You’ve seen him for what? Two minutes?”
“So?”
“So, neither of us is the same person we were ten years ago.” Eden glanced at her framed college diploma, then at the high school one hanging beside it. “We can’t go back.”
“But you don’t want to go forward either. For years you’ve used your experience with Billy as an excuse not to get involved with any man.” Tate held up her hand, stopping Eden’s protest. “And no, banging Jon White Feather like a drum whenever the mood strikes you does not count, because both you and Jon use your pasts as an excuse not to move on—either together or separately.”
Stupid insightful pregnancy hormones.
“Now that Billy has returned, apparently willing to make amends to you or to change your opinion of him, you’re unwilling to do either.”
Eden barely held on to her temper. “What do you expect me to do? Blindly give him my heart and my trust again?”
“Sweetie. Why won’t you admit he’s always had your heart?”
Dammit. She refused to respond.
“Lord, you are stubborn as a mule. Seems no matter what Billy does or doesn’t do, he can’t win.”
“You’re defending him?”
“No, I’m pointing out the facts. If Billy doesn’t close the community center, you won’t believe he didn’t do it to get in your good graces. If Billy does recommend closing it, you have a legitimate reason not to pursue a relationship with him.”
“What relationship? He lives in Chicago. I live in Spearfish. This ‘relationship’ is nothing but another loose end he’s tying up while he’s here.”
Tate studied her face until Eden squirmed under the intensity. “Think about what you really want and don’t be such a chickenshit about going after it.” Then Tate was gone.
Eden slumped in her office chair. She was no closer to knowing what her future held than she was three days ago.
She did know one thing for certain—ten years of life experience only added to Billy’s appeal. Yet, she suspected whe
n it was all said and done he’d walk away. Unscathed. Just like he had before.
Despite Tate’s observation Billy carried a torch for her, she didn’t believe he wanted more than a mutual slaking of lust. Her feelings for him were her problem. But she’d be damned if she’d spend time brooding about it. Life went on.
Eden flipped on her computer and lost herself in work while she still had a job.
***
A lush male voice sang, “Knock, knock, knockin’ on heaven’s door…”
Eden looked up and smiled at the longhaired, leather-clad Indian casually leaning against the doorjamb.
Simply put, Jon White Feather was a beautiful man. His angular face, courtesy of his Swedish mother, was as striking as his pale blue eyes. His broad forehead sloped into high, wide cheekbones. A regal nose gave way to lush lips and a pointed chin. Copper-colored skin bespoke his Lakota heritage. Tall, muscularly lean, his meaty biceps and the insides of his forearms were decorated with tribal tattoos. His black hair flowed past his shoulders, giving him the look of a bad boy rocker mixed with an Indian warrior. He was built, he was hot and his intense gaze still made her belly quiver after years of friendship. “Hoka-hey, kola.”
“Jon. I was wondering when you’d get into town.”
He quirked a dark eyebrow at her. “You haven’t seen me in six months and that’s my welcome? How about some sugar from my best girl, eh?” He spread his arms wide.
She skirted the desk and launched herself at him. Jon spun her in a circle amidst her laughter.
“Didja miss me, my wicked little garden sprite?”
“No.”
He whispered, “Liar.”
“Fine. I missed you. Put me down.”
“Only if you promise to go out with me tomorrow night.”
“Where?” The last time she’d forgotten to ask specifics she’d ended up in a strip club in Wyoming with Jon and six of his bruiser roadies, watching them jump into a bar fight with a group of hot cowboys. After the blood and the insults dried up, the dozen or so guys had shot whiskey in the tour bus until dawn.
“How about dancin’, someplace off the beaten track?”
When he rolled into town, Jon preferred to lay low somewhere he wouldn’t be recognized. “Like the Silver Star?” The honky-tonk was one of the few places in town that didn’t cater to college students.
“I’ll probably be the only Indian in the place amidst cowboy hats and shitkickers, and you know what happened last time, but it’s a deal.”
She returned to her chair while Jon flopped across from her desk. “So what’re you doing at the community center? Working out that buff bod of yours?”
Jon gifted her with a smoldering look. “I’m here just for you, dollface.”
“Wrong. Try again.”
“Man. I can’t pull nothin’ over on you.” He grinned pure mischief. “I told Jim I’d pick up Micah from basketball practice since Cindy is dealing with sick kids. But I really did volunteer so I could pop in and see what you were up to.”
Eden gestured at the piles. “The usual.”
“You work too hard, which is why I’m taking you out for a night of fun. How long’s it been since you cut loose?”
“Months. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“I heard. Jim says the center might be in trouble. What’s up with that?”
“The same old bullshit. It’s been coming for a year so I’m not surprised.”
He frowned. “Is your job in jeopardy?”
“Yeah.” She looked away to avoid his pity.
Papers rustled as Jon leaned across her desk and clasped her hand in his. “Hey. If the city is stupid enough to let you go, their loss, eh?”
Underneath Jon’s sexy persona of rocker Johnny Feather lurked a really sweet, thoughtful guy. “I guess.”
“You could always go on the road with me.”
“What would my job be?”
“My personal love slave.”
Eden snorted. “You’ve already got that position filled. They’re called groupies.”
Jon brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “None of them hold a candle to you.”
“Flatterer. But I will take it under consideration if this place goes belly up.” She threaded her fingers through his. “How long are you here?”
He sighed. “Only two days. This break isn’t near long enough.”
“And you say I work too hard?”
“Yeah, well, I’d like to hang out to catch up with Jim and his tribe, but unfortunately, most of my time will be spent in Eagle Butte.”
“Another last minute gig?”
“No. My bass guitarist is getting married.” He dropped his gaze to their joined hands. “I oughta be thrilled for him, right? His woman is awesome. He’s never been happier.”
“But?”
“That’s the thing. But nothin’. Him getting hitched won’t adversely affect the band, so it’s not a professional issue. I can’t figure out why I’m…pissed. Frustrated.”
“Jealous?” Eden offered.
“Maybe.” Jon’s thumb stroked the inside of her wrist. “He’s the first one of the band members to pair off. Which is cool. When he’s with her, it’s like they’re the only two people in the world, even if there’s a dozen people on the bus. I’m surrounded by people almost twenty-four/seven so why do I always feel so damn lonely?”
Eden was familiar with that feeling, but as this was one of the few times Jon had opened up in recent years, she didn’t interrupt.
“Do you ever look around at your life and feel like you’re missing out on what’s really important, even when you aren’t sure what that important something might be?”
“Yeah. We all have days like that.”
“Some of us more than others. I just wish…”
“What?” When his startling blue eyes connected with hers, her stomach cartwheeled.
“I forget how beautiful you are.”
Her face heated and she yanked her hand back. “Jon. Stop.”
“I’m serious, Eden. You’re beautiful. Smart. Successful. Funny as hell. Sweet as pie when you ain’t bein’ a pain in the ass.” His grin was there and gone. “You’ve dealt with the same Indian/white racist shit I have. The sex between us is great. My family adores you. I adore you.”
“I assume this sweet talk has a point, kola?”
“Sometimes I don’t just want to be your friend, Eden. I want more.” His eyes went from playful to haunted. “You are the perfect woman for me. So why can’t I settle down with you and let you fill the lonely spots in my life?”
“A—because you aren’t ready to abandon your wicked rocker ways and pledge your life to one woman. B—because you snore. C—because you don’t love me.”
“I should. You’d be good for me.”
“Would you be good for me, Jon?” Eden asked softly.
“No.” Jon sighed again. “It wouldn’t be fair because I don’t know if I can ever…” He briefly shut his eyes. “You deserve so much more than the pittance I can offer you, winyan.”
Eden’s heart clenched at the raw pain in his melodic voice. “Are you ever going to forgive yourself? It wasn’t your fault Juliette died.”
“Yeah, it was.”
They’d had this conversation dozens of times and it always ended the same way: with Jon changing the subject.
“You’re one of the few people in my life who doesn’t automatically say, ‘Yes, Johnny’ to whatever crazy thing I suggest. Not only do you know the real me—Jon the half-breed Indian with a checkered past—but you don’t want anything from me.”
“Except hot sex,” she teased, hoping to lighten his mood.
“But even that is different, truer, than with the groupies hanging around, waiting to fuck me in the tour bus strictly for the bragging rights that they nailed Johnny Feather.”
Wicked Garden Page 6