ALSO BY ROSALIND JAMES
THE PARADISE, IDAHO, SERIES
Book 1: Carry Me Home
THE ESCAPE TO NEW ZEALAND SERIES
Prequel: Just for You
Book 1: Just This Once
Book 2: Just Good Friends
Book 3: Just for Now
Book 4: Just for Fun
Book 5: Just My Luck
Book 6: Just Not Mine
Book 7: Just Once More
Book 8: Just in Time
THE NOT QUITE A BILLIONAIRE SERIES
Book 1: Fierce
THE KINCAIDS SERIES
Book 1: Welcome to Paradise
Book 2: Nothing Personal
Book 3: Asking for Trouble
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2015 Rosalind James
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781503951037
ISBN-10: 1503951030
Cover design by Eileen Carey
For Erika
CONTENTS
LOVE HURTS
A RAMBLIN’ MAN
ACCORDING TO PLAN
LONG HOT SUMMER
DISCOVERY
HEADED OUT
IN PARADISE
ISABEL
COWBOY UP
DEAL
FAMILY PORTRAIT
UP IN SMOKE
REAPING THE HARVEST
REDNECK RENDEZVOUS
UP AGAINST THE TORNADO
A LITTLE HELP
THE FUNNEST PART
OLD HOME WEEK
SURPRISE
DIGGING DEEPER
KAYLA B & B
THE BREAKFAST SPOT
JOSE CUERVO
DREAM It
DISCOVERY
GHOSTS
A JOB DONE RIGHT
THE DRIVER’S SEAT
BRICK WALL
ROPED AND TIED
THE REAL DEAL
ZERO TOLERANCE
BRING YOU HOME
DREAMS AND DESIRES
COWBOY BOOTS
FIRST AND LAST
COUNT ON IT
OVER THE RIVER AND THROUGH THE WOODS
WAITING
END OF THE LINE
NATURAL CONSEQUENCES
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LOVE HURTS
Kayla Chambers hefted the heavy bag of laundry into the backseat of the sedan beside her nine-year-old son. When she felt the hand at her waist, she jumped.
Alan laughed in her ear, pulled her back against him, put a hand under her chin to turn her head, and kissed her mouth. She stood rigid under him until he stepped back and sighed. “You’re not going to keep pouting, are you? Come on, baby. It’s over. You’re sorry, I’m sorry, and we’re moving on.” He fingered the half-carat diamond stud in her earlobe and gave her the slow, coaxing grin that worked so well on the secretaries in the DA’s office, the baristas at the coffee shop. On everyone who thought she was so lucky to have such a charming, handsome man, so crazy about her that he had to go everywhere with her.
“The two of you are joined at the hip,” Alan’s secretary, Joan, had joked. “Where can I get one of those, who’ll keep me in the lap of luxury and give me anything?”
Be careful what you wish for, Kayla had thought. She hadn’t said it, of course, because Alan had been beside her.
“But you’ve forgiven me,” he murmured now, beside her once more. “I can tell, because you couldn’t wait to wear them, could you? Even to the Laundromat. I know your little weaknesses, just like you know how to push my buttons. That’s why we’re so good together.” He traced a hand down her jaw. “Sometimes I think you do it on purpose, that you make me mad just so you can get presents. You’re going to get more, too, because I’m going to take you dancing tonight.” He had pulled her close again, and his lips were at her ear. “Wear the red dress,” he whispered. “The one that shows off your ass. We’ll have our own special party when we get home. We’ll send Eli to the sitter’s, have the house to ourselves, and you’ll be all mine.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowed, and stepped out of his arms. “We’d better go, or all the machines will be full.”
He sighed again. “What do I have to do here? I lost my temper. I took responsibility for that. But did you? Are you forgetting which of us lied to the other one?”
“I didn’t lie.” She got the words out even as her chest tightened. She could see Eli sitting, tense and wary, in the backseat, and hated that he was hearing this. She shouldn’t say anything, but she did anyway. “I was going to tell you the washing machine was broken. You didn’t give me a chance.”
He wasn’t looking satisfied anymore. He’d stiffened, and she was shaking inside. Why did she always talk back? Why? Why did she never learn?
“So you waited until my basketball night with the guys,” he said. “Knowing that my workout clothes were in the wash. Knowing that I had court the next day, and that my best white shirt was in there, too. We don’t call that honest, do we? We don’t call that helpful. We call that passive-aggressive. We call that undermining my career. The career that’s been feeding you and your son for the past six months.”
“Maybe,” she said, and felt herself trembling even as she did, “I was afraid of what you’d do if I told you.”
He took a step toward her, seemed to stop himself, and took a deep breath. “It’s over. We’re moving on. You can do better, and I know you will. I’m not so hard to please, after all. Your only job is to keep my home the way I like it, and keep me happy. That doesn’t seem so hard, does it? Am I such a bad guy?”
“No.” It was a lie, but what was one more lie, when her whole life was a lie?
He touched the diamond stud again, trailed his fingers down her neck, and rested his hand lightly against her throat, his fingers curling around to hold her there. A reminder, and a promise. “All you have to do is pay attention. And then you’ll get all the pretty things, because I take care of what belongs to me. Just like I’ll take care of you. Always.”
He dropped his hand, and she touched her cheekbone with her fingertips. Gingerly, because it still hurt. “Yeah. You like to give me things.”
He traced a hand over her cheekbone, and she held her breath and didn’t wince. “My sweet baby,” he crooned. “Sometimes love hurts, but it’s all good, because then we get to make up, and that’s the best.”
This time, she didn’t say anything. She just got into the passenger seat in front of her silent son, then waited as Alan slammed the door and shut her in before climbing into the driver’s seat.
Because she didn’t have a car, of course. She didn’t have anything. He had it all. She went where he told her to go and wore what he told her to wear and did what he told her to do. And it still wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
Love isn’t supposed to hurt like that, she told herself as he accelerated away from the stop sign with a speed that pushed her back against the seat. Love doesn’t come from your fists and your feet. Love doesn’t terrorize. Love doesn�
�t bruise.
A RAMBLIN’ MAN
“No.” Luke Jackson made his voice as firm as he possibly could. “Absolutely not. Go home.”
He didn’t usually talk to women this way. But then, this was no ordinary woman. She looked at him, her pretty head cocked, her eyes bright, her mouth stretched in a smile. She looked attentive. She looked obedient. Oh, yes, she did. But no matter how many times he’d told her to leave him alone, she’d insisted on following him. And now she’d sat herself down on the sidewalk, and she wasn’t budging.
Well, if she wasn’t going to move, he would. He took off again, focusing on his rhythm. His running shoes hit the deserted sidewalk with a satisfying thwack, thwack, the familiar routine, exactly what he needed before another workday behind a desk.
Paradise, Idaho, on a sleepy Friday morning in July. The promise of heat in the air, the sun already hard at work ripening the wheat and barley beyond the city limits. All the farmers and their families long since awake, because harvest had begun. You didn’t stay lazy long on a farm, and farm habits were hard to break.
In town, of course, it was a different story. Here, the kids would be moving more slowly, not yet spilling out into yards and onto sidewalks to play kickball and ride bikes and head to the pool. Relishing their final month of freedom before school started again.
He made it almost two blocks before he looked behind him. And there she was. Still following him.
He turned, hands on hips, and sighed. “You don’t have a home to go to, do you? What the hell am I supposed to do about that? And why me?”
The little dog waved her feathered tail, trotted a few hesitant steps toward him, and stopped. Luke finally did what he’d resisted doing all along: he held out a hand and snapped his fingers.
“Great. Oh, that’s just great,” he muttered when she came straight to him, sat at his feet, and leaned into the hand rubbing her head.
He didn’t really have a choice after that. Not when she fixed him with that same bright gaze, the patch of black over one eye giving her a comical appearance belied by the ribs he could feel under the matted black-and-white coat, the collar that most definitely wasn’t there to decorate her skinny neck. She was clearly homeless, and she was panting, too. It was already starting to get warm out even at seven in the morning, and where would she have gotten anything to drink?
“All right,” he told her. “But we’re talking one day only, you understand me? Water, something to eat, and that’s it. I can’t do anything else with you anyway, because I’ve got to go to work. And this afternoon? It’s straight to animal control. Got to find you a family, and it’s not me. I’m a ramblin’ man, baby. Can’t tie me down. I walk alone.”
ACCORDING TO PLAN
The moment Alan jerked to a stop in front of the Laundromat, Kayla was climbing out of his black BMW. The shimmering heat of a Boise July radiated straight off the asphalt and up her bare legs, and the handle of the back door was hot to the touch. By the time she’d pulled out the laundry bag, Eli had gotten out himself and come around the car. He took the bag from her, staggering a little under its weight, and Kayla reached down for the laundry basket and propped it against her hip.
Alan was right there with her, too. Of course he was. He put a hand on her shoulder and said, “I’ll be back in two hours.”
“It could take longer than that for everything to dry,” she told him.
A little smile curved his mouth, but didn’t reach his pale-blue eyes. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you didn’t want me to come back for you.”
Her heart was beating hard now. Surely he would see it. She was so close. So close. She shrugged. “It’s just that I know you’re busy. We could always take a taxi home.”
“Two hours. I’ll be here. Be ready. And make sure my shirts are on hangers, and that you don’t put them in the dryer. I’ll know if you do.” He leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t make me have to punish you anymore. Please, baby. You know how it hurts me to have to do it.” His hand stroked over her ear, fondled the diamond again, and she fought the shudder. “Not right before our date night. Our special time.”
She swallowed the sickness down, nodded once, and forced herself to stand still for his kiss.
“Two hours,” he said again.
At last, he was heading back around the car, and she was able to escape into the little Laundromat with Eli following behind. She went over to the row of plastic chairs under the front windows, dumped her basket, and watched Alan pull away.
“Mom.”
Her son’s voice was quiet, as usual. It was the first time he had spoken since he’d gotten into the car.
“What, sweetie?” She turned from the window to look at him. He was standing, head bowed, not looking her in the eye, one hand fingering the cloth tie holding the laundry bag closed.
“Maybe we could . . .” He stopped, then took a breath and went on. “Maybe we could go to Isabel’s. We could take a taxi there. Like you said.”
“No. Not that. We aren’t going to do that.” Because it wasn’t safe. Not for them, and not for Isabel.
He shoved his hand into the pocket of his shorts, pulled out a wad of . . . something, and held it out to her.
Money. A whole wad of ones.
His thin hand was shaking a little, but his blue eyes looked steadily into hers, and for just a moment, he was so much like his dad, it took her breath away.
“I saved it,” he told her. “From my lunch money. I’ve been saving it for a long time. It’s thirty-four dollars, Mom. We could take a taxi. Now, before he comes back. We could get away.”
“Sweetie.” The lump had risen, was nearly blocking her throat. “Oh, baby.” She dropped the basket and held him to her. His arms went around her, hugging her fiercely. The pressure hurt her bruised ribs, but she held on all the same. “We aren’t going to do that,” she told him. “We’re going to do something better.”
“What?” His voice was muffled. “What?”
She saw the silver sedan pull to the curb just beyond the parking lot, and the surge of relief made her almost light-headed. She hadn’t dared to believe it would actually happen. That they really would come for her and Eli. That they really would help.
She pulled her phone out of her purse and tossed it into the laundry basket, then picked up the bag of clothes and took Eli by the hand. “We’re getting away,” she told him. “We’re leaving forever. Right now.”
“Mom, your phone.”
“We’re leaving it. He can track it.”
She was so glad she’d asked about that when she’d made the call a week earlier. If she hadn’t, everything she’d planned would have been in vain, because he would have come after her.
She’d suspected for some time that he was tracking her whereabouts, and when the calm, businesslike woman at the other end of the line had confirmed that it was possible, she’d known what she had to do. Even replacing the SIM card wouldn’t be enough, because there were ways around that, too, and Alan would have found them. He was nothing if not thorough. She’d deleted her personal contacts long since, had only used the phone to call places he’d approved of. She’d thought that was safe. But nothing had been safe.
That was all over now. This was the last place Alan had seen her, and this was the place where the trail would end.
She’d used the payphone at Albertson’s instead. She’d put her quarters into the slot and stood punching in the number from the flyer she’d found stuck to the bulletin board in the library. The Domestic Violence Hotline.
She’d done it. She’d asked for help, and by the time she’d hung up, she’d finally started to believe that she might get it. All the same, her hand had shaken so badly that she’d barely been able to replace the receiver on the hook. She’d had to stand there a minute longer, lean her forehead against the top of the grubby public phone, and breathe.
Now, Eli didn’t ask any more questions. He followed her, and she tried not to think about all the times he’d followed her over the years since Kurt had died. She hustled him out to the street, opened the sedan’s back door, gave him a gentle push inside, then slid in beside him with the laundry bag and slammed the door.
The woman behind the wheel turned to look at her. She hadn’t gotten out of the car. Kayla had specified that.
“Ready?” She was fiftyish, her brown hair cut short and stylish, with silver earrings like daggers swinging against her tanned neck.
“Ready,” Kayla said.
“Straight to the highway?” The woman’s hands were firm on the leather-wrapped steering wheel as she put the car in gear and pulled out into the traffic. Her voice was decisive, her blue eyes steady in the rearview mirror. Kayla wished she could be that confident. But struggle and pain and Alan had beaten the confidence right out of her. Now, she was going for survival.
“No. Two stops. Please. They’ll be quick,” she hastened to assure the woman, seeing another sharp glance in the mirror. “I know it’s your . . . it’s your time,” she finished lamely.
“My time doesn’t matter. Whatever it takes. I’m Pam, by the way.”
“Kayla.” Pam knew that already, of course. “And this is Eli.”
“So, Kayla. Where to?”
Kayla gave the address, and Eli spoke up at last. “I thought we weren’t going to Isabel’s.”
“Just for a minute. Just for a second.”
She’d called her friend the day before. Another call from Albertson’s, and Isabel had promised to wait for her this morning. Now, Kayla pressed her hands together between her knees, feeling cold despite the heat of the day, and hoped Isabel had remembered. She knew she shouldn’t stop, that possessions didn’t matter, but it was the one thing they could take with them, the one thing Eli had.
Pam drove, and Eli was quiet, and the silver car was turning onto the narrow street.
“One minute,” Kayla promised when Pam braked to a stop. She got out of the car, feeling as if she had a target painted on her back, and hurried up the concrete stairs of the cinder-block apartment building until she was knocking on the blue-painted door.
Hold Me Close Page 1