by KC Klein
She slammed the door shut behind her, loud enough to wake the sleeping, one could only hope. The front mini-blinds rattled in greeting.
There, in the dim glare from the avocado-green stove light was Cole, laid out on a decade-old La-Z-Boy, shirt opened to the waist, chest on display. His feet were propped up on the footrest, one toe poking out through a hole in his sock, a tequila bottle tucked snuggly under his arm.
Cole scrubbed his hand over his face and slicked his too-long hair back. His face was darkened with shadows and whiskers. In the yellow light, his mouth held a cruel slant, but it wasn’t until his jaw muscle flexed that Katie questioned her decision. Man’s house, alone, middle of the night. Throw alcohol into the mix and that just equaled plain stupid.
“Get out.��� His voice was a harsh whisper, but effective.
She raised her head a notch. “No.”
“Out. Now.”
She took solace in the knowledge he couldn’t hear her heart racing. “Cole, we need to talk.”
“Talk, huh? I’d offer you a drink . . .” He lifted the bottle and took a swig, sucking air in through his closed teeth. “But I don’t want to. Go talk to the rich boy that bought you that piece of flash on your finger. Gotta wonder though, if he isn’t overcompensating for something?”
And this was the Cole she needed to remember. The one who was a little bit cruel, was a little bit drunk. This was good. She’d keep this image in her mind. It would give her strength when she got weak. “His name is Thomas.”
“Don’t care.”
His words hurt more than she’d thought they would. She remembered a little girl begging him to love her, to take a chance. “Don’t care, huh?”
He stared at her, and the smirk on his face showed her exactly what he was thinking. “Nope.”
His look of unabashed disdain—like he’d scraped something foul off the bottom of his boot—was the final push. Without thought, she tore across the room, ripped the tequila from his hands, and threw it. Her fingers released their grip on the bottle as dark fluid sprayed the walls. Glass hit glass as the bottle smashed into the front window, putting a crimp in the cheap mini-blinds. “You damn well better start caring.”
Cole jumped up out of his chair, his body looming over hers as he glared down at her. “Get the hell out, Katie, or I’ll throw you out.”
This was what she wanted, right? To face the storm? Her courage faltered, but she couldn’t back down now.
“You don’t have the guts.” She spat the words at his feet, but her challenge was weakened with the steps she took toward the wall behind her.
Cole followed her retreat. Veins popped out along his arms, running in blue lines under his tan. The cords in his neck grew thick. “I’ve never hit a woman in my life, but that could all change tonight,” he hissed.
And some crazy thing inside, some small voice almost wanted him to do it. Do it, so she could be done with him once and for all. So her heart could harden, and she could leave with no regrets. “How original, get a little drunk—get a little cruel.”
He swung.
His fist connected solidly with the wall behind her. She gasped and held perfectly still. So did he.
With labored breath, Cole slowly lowered his forehead to the wall. Katie eased back as well, grateful for the support behind her. Moments passed; then he shifted and looked down at her. She caught something flash in his eyes. Regret, guilt? She broke eye contact. Cole’s vulnerability was not what she needed to walk away with.
“I haven’t touched the stuff in close to two and a half years. And you’ve been back, what? Less than forty-eight hours and I’m already trying to find my way to the bottom of a bottle. What does that tell you?”
Katie hadn’t known that. She swallowed and was able to name what she’d seen in his eyes—shame. And for some stupid reason she wanted to cry. “That you’re afraid.”
Only such soft-spoken words could carry the heavy burden of truth, and he knew it. He turned around and braced his back against the now busted plaster. They stood shoulder to shoulder, both staring straight ahead.
Her eyes focused on the mundane, the ordinary. A tear in the La-Z-Boy, the crooked picture above the sink.
“Why are you here?” he whispered. “I mean why are you here, tonight, in my house?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle to keep from falling, and as much as she wanted to turn and leave, she couldn’t. She was sick of running.
“Because,” she whispered, but her voice broke. She’d accused him of being afraid, but did she have the courage to say the things left unsaid—to tell the truth? She couldn’t live with the wounds festering any longer. “Because, I would’ve fought for you, fought for us. But you wouldn’t marry me. Me, Cole. I was the one who was left broken. Not you.”
He tapped his head against the wall, once, twice. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand fall across his chest as if remembering a dull ache in his heart. Then, as if coming to a decision, he rounded on her. His hands on either side of her head blocked her in. His dark hair fell across his face like twisted black ropes. The eyes that peered through were desolate and dead like a city after a battle. “Marry me.”
His words rushed over her in hot and cold waves, and for one moment she felt joy. But then she remembered. She remembered this was Cole.
Did he think this was a joke? Something he could laugh about with the guys over a few beers. And then I told her I’d marry her. You shoulda seen her face.
Screw you, was what she meant to say, but instead flung the fouler version. The wrong version.
There is a thin line between love and hate, and sex and a fu . . . She watched it all play across his face, and then watched as it turned into something savage. His gaze traveled her body. She followed with a look of her own. The way his chest was wide and bare. The way her thin shirt dipped low, riding the peaks of her nipples.
“You were always easy, but come on. At least make me work for it.”
Her palm cracked across his cheek.
The savage thing on his face turned into a smile. “Ouch. Struck a nerve? Guess what, I can speak the truth, too. You don’t love Thomas.”
“Yes, I do.” Her hand stung, but she refused to rub her palm.
He shook his head. “Nah, look who’s running scared now . . . to me, in the middle of the night.”
She licked her lips. “That’s not why I came. And I’m not scared.”
“Isn’t it? You can lie with the rest of us, but you forget. I’ve known your face and your body.” With the back of one finger, he traced the contour of her arm, and true to form, her body responded. Chills followed in his wake. “It never lies. Marry me. Right now.”
She laughed, and shook off his touch. “Really? What? Right here? In the middle of your living room? That’s not a real offer, Cole. I thought you were better than that.”
Two could play at this game. She flashed him a wicked smile of her own. Time to go. She had what she’d come for. Had her answer. She was done with empty promises.
His fingers wrapped around her arm. His blue eyes heated. “Is that a yes?”
She bit her lip and couldn’t help searching his gaze for something more.
His breath fanned her lips, carrying a hint of tequila. “Say it. Say yes.”
She shook her head, but had a hard time forming the word.
His hands traveled down her arms, found her wrists and in one smooth movement had them pinned above her head. He lowered himself so his body was flush against hers—chest to chest, groin to groin. “Don’t lie to me. Your body wants this. You want this—have since you were old enough to know what this was. I could’ve had you at sixteen. I could’ve had you at eighteen in the barn that night. I can have you now if I want.”
Was that a dare or a threat? Either one made her want to throw his challenge back in his face, but instead she turned her head to the side. He was too potent for her own good.
With his one hand, he caught her chin and turned her to face him. “Look me in the eye, and tell me you don’t want to say yes.” His mouth was so close to hers, she felt his lips move as he spoke the words, and her heart leapt at the faux kiss.
It was as if he reached inside her and found the place that only contained yeses—the place where no other word existed. She didn’t even hear her response until it was too late. “Yes.”
Cole released her and only her strength of will kept her knees from giving out. She clung to the wall, not sure what had happened. Hadn’t she just said yes? Yes to having him naked and deep inside her, right? At least that was what her body was screaming.
She watched him walk over and grab his boots. He shoved his feet in as he pulled his keys from the hook by the door. “Let’s go.”
What had happened? Her body shook at his withdrawal like an addict ripped away from a fix. She leaned against the wall, not trusting herself to stand on her own. “You’re leaving?”
He opened the door and waited for her to walk through.
The pain in her chest broke open, and her vision blurred. She was so tired. And she wished the tequila wasn’t splattered across the wall. She needed a drink. “Cole . . . Cole, I don’t think . . . I’m just not up to push-starting your truck tonight.”
A loud exhale and he bowed his head. Then his blue gaze, pained but clear, pinned her. “Christ, Katie . . . what you think of me. Get in the truck.”
“We’re still just doing the kissing thing, right? Right?” There was panic in her voice. Nikki knew it, couldn’t help it. Things had moved fast, lightning fast. One moment she’d been on Jett’s couch watching him lick salt off of her hand, and the next she was lying naked in his bed with Jett doing the most incredible things to her body.
He still had his clothes on. Well, mostly. She wasn’t sure where his shirt had gone. But his wearing pants was a good thing, right? RIGHT? Oh My God.
“I know. I know,” Jett said against the underside of her breast.
Had she spoken that out loud?
She had to get control back. She had to remember why they shouldn’t be doing this. “Jett, listen. Listen!”
She wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled him toward her face. He was spending way too much time down there.
Then he started kissing her mouth, her neck, her shoulder. Oh My God.
“I know, me too. Me too.” But this time he’d whispered the words in her ear, sending heavenly chills down her sides.
Christ, she’d spoken out loud again.
She grabbed his face and held it directly in front of hers. “We are only kissing. That’s it.”
She had to make sure he understood because her being completely naked under him was starting to feel like an awful lot more than just kissing.
His eyes had lost all color and appeared obsidian in the bedroom light. His hair was damp, breath coming in short pants. The body shots were having an effect on him. It had to be the alcohol, not her. No way was it her.
“Do you trust me?” He turned his head and whispered the words into her palm.
“No!”
“Fair enough.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t trust myself either.”
“What are we going to do?” This was past critical. They had to stick to the rules.
He propped himself up on an elbow above her. “Do you want to stop?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. What do you usually do in these situations?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
She shook her head. She was desperate, in way over her head, possibly a bit drunk, and grasping at straws.
“You’re not kidding. Christ. Okay.” He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them the look he gave her made her breath hitch and blood pound. “By this time I would’ve had you every way to Sunday. I’d have taken you from the front, from behind, and if you’re really naughty, in your mouth. I’d be so deep inside you by now that I’d have you seeing God.”
“No, no.” Panic gripped her heart. The last thing she wanted to see right now was God. God or her mother, kinda the same thing.
He groaned and threw himself off her and onto his back. “I’m not doing this right. That wasn’t what I was supposed to say.”
“What were you supposed to say?” Her head was spinning so wildly, it was hard to think of anything.
She saw his throat work as he swallowed hard. Then he was back on top of her. His eyes all warm and smooth like yum on a cinnamon bun. “What I should’ve said from the very beginning.”
“Which is?”
“Which is that I want you so much. I want you so much right now that it hurts. And honestly, I think I’ve wanted you from the first time you told me to drop dead and pushed me off of the dock into the lake.”
“That was when I was twelve!”
“Yeah, I know it’s been a long time.”
“You’re scaring me, Jett.” And he was. This sounded way too deep to be just an answer to a challenge. This sounded way too real to be coming from the town’s playboy. She didn’t do this. Didn’t get involved. She kept her attachments to a minimum. Easier for when she left. Besides, people she loved had a tendency to up and die on her.
“I know. I know. Don’t freak out. This”—he gestured with his hand to encompass the whole situation—“doesn’t mean a thing. We’re just two people who had a little too much to drink and in the morning we will wake up and forget any of it ever happened.”
“You promise?” She had to believe him. Needed to believe him.
“Yeah.” He nodded. His face was grim, lines etched deeply along the sides of his mouth. “Just do me one more favor. Let me have one more thing. Then I promise if you want to stop, we’ll stop.” A small half smile came out. “I’ll turn the hose on myself if I have to.”
Everything in her body screamed yes, but she hadn’t made it in life by letting her emotions totally take control. “It’s gotta be kept to just kissing, Jett. I can’t handle much more.”
“Oh yeah, Texas. Just kissing. I promise.” But the smile in his eyes was pure wicked, and she felt as if she’d just been conned by the best. And she should know.
Chapter 19
Cole froze, his coat only half on as he waited for Katie. “I guess I deserved that. But I’ve gotten a new truck. You know, Katie, some things have changed since you left.”
Alcohol soured the air, along with a silence only found deep in the night and in the soul of some broken men and some desperate women.
Katie watched as Cole stood in front of the opened door and waited. Moths flocked around the porch light like suicide bombers, some finding their way into the house. And still he waited.
She gritted her teeth and stormed out the door. She followed Cole around the back and watched as he dinged the key fob.
Finally, Cole had gotten what he’d wanted—a new F-150 Ford pickup, deep maroon, with custom twenty-inch chrome wheels. A cowboy’s wet dream.
Cole opened the passenger door and waited for her to climb in. The smell of leather, shined slick with Armor All and new-car scent, filled the cab. He hopped in on the driver’s side, plugged in his phone, and soft country music floated around her. The days of a static radio with a blown speaker were long gone.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To do something I should’ve done a long time ago.”
“At midnight?” Katie huddled in her coat and wished she had on something besides her threadbare nightshirt and jeans. “Oh God, you don’t have a half-baked plan of going out in a blaze of glory, do you?”
“No. Worse.”
She sighed. The hint of dimple that appeared in the light glow of the dashboard caused her to lose focus. “You do know Thelma and Louise didn’t live happily ever after, right?
”
“Really?” He shook his head as if baffled. “I guess the subtleties of sophisticated cinema are lost on a poor country hick like me.”
“Yeah, poor country hick with a truck like this,” she mumbled under her breath, but this time she had to fight back a smile. She had to be careful. It would be too easy to fall back into old patterns with Cole.
They drove in silence until Cole pulled into the driveway in front of Jett’s house. Cole walked around and helped her out of the truck. Or more like pulled her out, since his hand was locked around her upper arm in a vise grip.
Katie stood with Cole on Jett’s front porch, shivering in her wool coat, and waited as Cole pounded on the door for a third time. Katie rolled her eyes. This was ridiculous, but Cole wasn’t budging. She thought about going back and sitting in the warm truck, but he hadn’t released his hold on her, probably afraid she would bolt.
“Maybe he isn’t here,” she said. She hadn’t put her watch on and left her phone at home, but it had to be close to one in the morning. The lack of sleep was starting to catch up with her.
Cole didn’t say anything, just pounded again.
Maybe an apology would go a long way to calming Cole, at least giving her a chance of getting back home and into her bed, but it still galled her to say she was sorry.
The door popped opened. Jett stood there in boxers and nothing else, hair sticking out, apparently woken from a deep sleep. “What?” he yelled, and then looked from Cole to Katie and back to Cole. “I’m not here.” And swung the door shut.
Cole wedged his boot in before the door closed and pushed his way inside. Katie had little choice but to follow, since Cole was still dragging her by her arm.
Cole stood in the middle of the living room and glared at Jett. “Are you awake?”
Jett nodded.
“Are you drunk?”
Jett’s gaze shifted around the room, stopping on the empty liquor bottle and lime wedges on the coffee table, then back to Cole. “Not sure at the moment, but you must be.” He shot a glance toward his bedroom. “What the hell are you doing here, Cole?”