by Jill Shalvis
ride altogether.
To her eternal annoyance, the memory still rated as her top sexual experience. “I remember,” she said softly.
His gaze dipped down to her mouth, and she chewed on her lower lip to keep from saying more. She didn’t want to beg. Wouldn’t beg.
Surely he knew that.
She’d only ever asked him for one thing. When his circumstances had changed and he’d gone into the military, she’d asked him not to break up with her. Go if he must, but keep her in his heart.
He hadn’t.
He’d left without looking back: no letters, no contact, nothing.
He’d moved on, with shocking ease.
So she’d moved on as well, with the opposite of ease, foolishly getting sucked into a bad marriage with a bad-for-her man. Just like her parents’ marriage, it had been a sham, a façade, and one hell of a hard-learned lesson. These days Holly no longer ran with scissors or led with her heart.
Or let a man have power over her.
But as her father always said, Reids don’t quit. “So will you help me?” she asked.
“Where’s your husband?”
Not the question she’d expected, not from him. But not all that surprising. She’d kept her private life to herself—or more accurately her lack of a private life—out of self-preservation. And in any case, thinking about Derek never failed to make her feel vulnerable and stupid, and like a complete failure. “I’m no longer married,” she said. The rest was on a need-to-know basis, and as far as she was concerned, no one needed to know. Especially not Adam.
He studied her thoughtfully. “So why does everyone here, including your father and brother, think you are?”
Adam was still tight with her dad, and Grif as well. “I don’t know,” she said. A lie, because she did know. It was pride, of course. Hers. She’d come from a fractured family, had been asked to choose between her parents, but never really getting either of them.
Then Grif had left as well.
And then Adam.
The lesson learned had been clear—any sense of happiness, family, and security was an illusion. Heartbroken, she’d gone back to New York for college, where she’d kept to herself for a year. Then she’d met a man. Her professor. Derek had been romantic and nice and kind. He’d been gentle and…beta—a complete change from all the alphas who had always been in her life. He’d sucked her in with that slow charm and sensitivity. God, how she hated remembering how easy of a mark she’d been. A lonely, scared, vulnerable college girl, looking for love. Derek had dazzled her, completely, and even more so when both her dad and Grif had tried to tell her that she was being played. The three Reids had one thing in common—they were stubborn to the end. So of course they’d battled, and her dad and Grif had pushed Holly hard.
Holly had pushed back, being young and stupid enough to marry Derek at nineteen, giving him all she had, including her already trampled on heart. She’d settled in for her happily-ever-after, but that hadn’t been the ending she’d gotten. Derek had indeed played her with his quiet, passive-aggressive ways, so completely it had taken her taken several years to realize her dad and Grif had been right about him.
She hadn’t been the only student in her professor’s life.
Crushed, embarrassed, and completely ashamed—especially at how long she’d been fooled—she’d never told her dad or Grif that they’d separated. Pride before the fall and all that. For a long time she hadn’t even filed for divorce because she’d never intended to get married again. It had suited her, being free but not available.
She could only assume Derek enjoyed the pretense of being married as well, because he hadn’t made a move to divorce her, either.
But then a year ago she’d come back to Sunshine for her dad. And in doing so, she had decided to learn to live in the moment and not just pretend everything was okay like her mom had always done. She wanted to take full control of her own life, and be happy. Her way. So she’d filed for that long-overdue divorce, certain that after all this time Derek would agree to it.
He hadn’t.
She’d been forced to go to court, which had been a very unpleasant experience. Derek had fought her and then hadn’t even bothered to show up for their court date. Twice. Finally, just last week, the judge had agreed to sign off on the case without him, and, as far as she was concerned, the deal was as good as done.
And Holly was over faking her happiness.
Adam was still just watching her. She had no idea what it was about his melting-chocolate eyes, but they had a way of looking at her, as if he could see all the way inside, past her walls, past her guard, past everything, to where her real thoughts and feelings were laid bare.
It was disconcerting.
Terrifying.
Arousing.
“My past isn’t up for discussion,” she said. “It’s…complicated.”
The very hint of a smile curved his lips. “And what with you isn’t?”
She was pretty sure that wasn’t a compliment, but she didn’t want to go there. To give herself a moment, she walked the length of the loft. He hadn’t lit a fire, and the place was chilly. Framed pictures sat on the mantel. Adam with a search dog on either side of him. Another with a handful of guys on a cliff in full combat gear looking into the camera with varying degrees of stoic strength and camaraderie.
But it was the last picture that grabbed her by the throat. It was small, the photo itself a little wrinkled, as if maybe it had spent time in a wallet before making its way to a frame. It was Adam circa his Troubled Years, wearing loose, low-slung jeans and down jacket, hood up. No smile, dark glasses in place, hiding the eyes already old beyond his years. He had his arm slung around a girl.
Her.
She ran a finger over the frame and asked the question she didn’t know she’d been holding on to. “So, how is it that you ended up in Sunshine again when you told me you wouldn’t ever be back?”
Three
Holly held her breath for Adam’s answer, but he ignored the question and headed toward the far end of the loft, and the tall dresser standing there.
“You’re right about the weather going to hell,” he said. “It’s all over the news.”
“Which is why we need to find my dad quickly,” she said.
He shook his head. “There’s no we.”
Disappointment rolled over her like a wave. So he wasn’t going to help. “Okay,” she said, having no idea why she was surprised. “I’ll go alone. It’s not like it’s the first time someone’s walked away when I needed them.”
The silence was weighted, and she bit her tongue. She hadn’t meant to go there, but apparently she was holding on to some resentment. A lot of resentment. Who knew? Unable to take it back, she strode to the door and, dammit, fumbled with the handle. Before she could get it open, Adam’s hand settled on the wood above her head, holding it closed.
He had long fingers, and more than one scar on them. His forearm was corded with sinew and felt too close. Intimate. She closed her eyes and took in the scent of masculine soap and warm, male skin. He wasn’t touching her in any way, but she felt him surrounding her just the same. And the bigger problem? Her body remembered his. Remembered…and ached. She thunked her head to the door, desperately searching for balance—which wasn’t going to happen, not with him so close.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” he said.
Processing his words, she turned and flattened herself against the wood, staring up at him, relief filling her hot and bright, so that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “You’re going to help me?”
“Yes,” he said. “But I go alone.” His eyes were shadowed, his mouth tight and grim.
And she realized something else that she’d missed when she’d first soaked up the sight of him, dazzled by his perfection.
He seemed utterly and completely exhausted.
And, she realized in horror when he turned away from her and headed back to his dresser, injured. At the sight of h
is back, she gasped. “Adam.”
He didn’t respond.
Shock.
She stared at the long, jagged laceration on his shoulder, along with the bunch of other scratches and bruises all over him, as if he’d been dragged over rocks. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.” He pulled a pair of sweats from a drawer.
“It’s more than nothing.” Her gaze was glued to the blood dripping down his back as she moved close, helplessly drawn in. “It’s—”
He dropped his towel to the floor, fully exposing his body in all its bare-ass naked glory.
And there was a lot of glory.
She sputtered, torn between slapping a hand over her eyes and staring at the finest stretch of broad back and perfect male ass she’d ever seen, while he calmly stepped into his sweats and pulled them up.
Sheer feminine appreciation had won out, of course. She didn’t even attempt to cover her eyes—which is how she caught his wince and hiss of breath when he straightened.
“I’ll leave at first light,” he said, turning to face her.
“Adam, what the hell happened to you?”
Ignoring yet another question, he moved to the door, opening it for her in a direct but silent invite for her to go. “I’ll call you when I get to Diamond Ridge,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m coming with you.”
“No.” He set a hand on her stomach.
She was shocked to immobility at the unexpected touch. Every muscle quivered, and she was completely distracted by it, so that when he gave her a gentle push over the entryway and then shut the door in her face—not quite as gently—she could only blink in surprise.
“Hey.” She tried the door, but he’d locked it. She rapped her fist on the wood. “Adam.”
No answer. Hands on hips, she stared at the door. “Are you kidding me?”
She could almost hear the proverbial crickets but not a word or a breath from the man inside. “What, are we teenagers and stupid all over again?” she asked through the door.
Nothing. Unbelievable. “Adam, you can’t be serious.”
But apparently he was.
Swearing beneath her breath, she left a strip of her Jeep’s tires on the asphalt peeling out of the parking lot. She was halfway home before her wits caught up with her. There were few people on earth who could light her temper. In fact, she could count them with three fingers: her father, Grif, and Adam.
Especially Adam.
Apparently he still had that ability, which really chapped her hide. It would be one thing if she’d ever, even once, been able to return the favor, but his fuse was notoriously slow and long-burning, and it had never been directed at her. In fact, she wasn’t sure she’d ever even heard him raise his voice. Nope, Adam’s temper, when it blew, was a quiet explosion.
Internal.
She could remember once being with him when they’d come across someone beating his horse on the trail. Two days later the local paper had printed an article about a horse theft. No one had ever found the horse or caught the perp.
But sure as Holly knew her own name, she knew Adam had stolen that horse.
Fast-forward to the night he’d been late-night drag racing and a cop had died while chasing him and his friends…Not twenty-four hours later he’d signed up for the military.
That was the thing about Adam. Despite not ever toeing the line, he had a moral compass that always pointed to Do the Right Thing.
This is how she knew he’d do exactly as he’d said—he’d go out after her dad. Alone. Damn him.
The drive home to the Reid ranch house was on a narrow two-lane road, lined by the Little Eagle River. It was beautiful, and she often stopped at the bridge to watch the river flow by. Not tonight. Tonight she paid no attention to anything but getting home. The place had been built just outside of Sunshine, on the biggest of all the Reid ranches. There were lots of buildings on the land—barns, storage, bunking for the ranch hands, and the Reid offices, which held their staff.
The main house was huge, large enough for each of the three Reids to have their own space when needed, though Grif was rarely here. For that matter, her father was rarely here, either, preferring to travel among all the ranches under his empire.
Holly went straight to her office and began an e-mail to Grif about her plans to leave to search for their dad in the morning, because no matter what Adam thought, she was going. But she was surprised to have Grif IM her before she could send it.
ShootFirst: Hey, bossy pants.
NYGirl: Grif! How are you? You okay?
ShootFirst: Fine. You back in NY yet?
Grif would say he was fine even if he had limbs falling off, but the New York question made her wince. He kept bugging her about not getting sucked into the ranching business just for their dad’s sake, reminding her that she’d gotten out of Sunshine and shouldn’t cave to family expectations, that she should follow her own path.
This was because Grif and Donald couldn’t spend more than five minutes in the same room without Donald laying on the guilt about Grif not wanting to run the family empire. Their fights were legendary, no doubt having something to do with two alpha males not being able to share space.
For the most part, Holly enjoyed sharing space with her father. The sheer amount of time it took to run his ranching conglomerate grew every year, and she was extremely busy. She had two office staffers to help her, and it took the three of them working full-time to keep things afloat. Gone were the days where she could work from New York or from wherever she wanted to be.
But also gone were the days where she wanted to work from somewhere else.
NYGirl: I’m not going back to NY. I’m staying in Sunshine.
ShootFirst: Christ, you did it. You let the old man get his hooks in you. What does the husband think of this? Tell me you left that asshole.
Holly would tell him that over her own dead body.
NYGirl: Forget about me. Dad went hunting and he’s been gone three days. I’m worried. He’s not moving as fast as he used to, not that he’d admit it. But Deanna says that his horse threw him last week. He never said a word to me about it. I’m worried he’s out there, hurt. What if a wild animal cornered him?
ShootFirst: He’s the wild animal. And he’s fine.
Fine again. Holly rolled her eyes.
NYGirl: He’s not answering his phone or returning texts.
ShootFirst: Prob no reception.
NYGirl: I have a bad feeling.
ShootFirst: Like the time you had a feeling about Santa Claus and we had to climb on the roof and wait for him?
NYGirl: Hey, you falling off that roof was your own fault.
ShootFirst: I nearly broke my neck, not to mention my ass.
NYGirl: And yet you live. I’m going to Diamond Ridge to look for him, Grif.
ShootFirst: No. There’s weather moving in, and the old coot can take care of himself.
NYGirl: Why are you keeping track of our weather?
ShootFirst: Because Kate’s going to the balloon races this weekend. She’s got a blind date with one of the racers, and she’s going up in his balloon—which is pure insanity by the way.
Holly sat back and stared at her computer screen. Kate Evans was Holly’s best friend. Grif had been home exactly once this year on leave, and he’d stayed for a total of two weeks. The first week he’d done nothing but sleep. The second week he’d spent in the company of old friends like Adam and Dell, mostly in the local bars.
Kate was a second-grade teacher. In the presence of a male older than seven, she tended to get nervous and started spouting useless science facts. She was funny and smart, and an amazing friend, but she was swamped with family obligations and spent exactly zero time in bars. There was no way she and Grif had