Last Chance Rebel (Copper Ridge #6)

by Maisey Yates

  “We’re out in the open.” And in the light. The unspoken words were as loud as anything else. She had made him leave the room before she had gotten out of bed this morning. Hadn’t allowed him to see any of her body.

  “Right,” he said, not wanting to push her anymore now.

  “I can’t... I can’t...” She swung her foot up in one of the stirrups, ready to get on the horse again, and he closed the distance between them, curving his hand around her neck, kissing her once more, long and fierce, before releasing her.

  She slung her leg over the back of the horse, positioning herself on its back, her cheeks a brilliant pink. Her eyes were glittering and she was staring straight ahead, careful not to look at him.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No,” she said, “I’m not mad at you.”

  “Are you ready to tell me thank-you for saying you’re beautiful?”

  “No,” she said, turning her horse around and taking off at a gallop.

  He swore and got on his own horse, taking off after her. She went a different way, taking a wide-open field that led the roundabout way back toward his property.

  By the time he made his way back to the barn, she had dismounted and was leading the horse to a trough. He got off his own, tethering her to the side of the barn before following Rebecca over to the end of the barn, near the fence.

  He grabbed hold of her arm, and she spluttered, then he pressed her back up against the roughhewn wooden slats, curving his hands around the top rail on either side of her. “Don’t run away from me.”

  “Gage,” she said, and he realized how long it had been since she had said his name.

  She was begging him for something, with that one word, but he wasn’t sure what. To kiss her again, to leave her alone. So he figured he would take the option that he liked best.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist, reversing their positions so that he was sitting down on top of the fence now, pulling her up against him, trapping her between his thighs.

  He pressed his mouth to hers, keeping it simple, keeping it straightforward. He didn’t taste her the way that he wanted to, didn’t part her lips and invade her mouth. Instead, he kept it cool, dry, let her set the pace.

  She turned her head, pulling away when he had hoped she would deepen it.

  “Thank you,” she said, her words a rushed whisper.

  “There,” he said, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Nothing about you is. I keep hoping that you’ll confirm my fears at some point and reveal yourself to be a monster.” She lifted her hand, tracing the groove by his mouth. “Instead, you keep on being something else entirely. Something that keeps on surprising me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A man. A man that I want.”

  “Well, at least that’s not as scary as a monster.”

  She shook her head. “Scarier.”

  “Why is that?”

  She lifted a shoulder, the sun breaking through the clouds, casting a halo around her hair. “Because, as long as you’re a monster then all of my hiding away was for a good reason.” She let her fingertips drift down to the center of his chest. “But I guess you were what I was hiding from all this time.”

  He knew that she didn’t mean him. Not specifically. He hadn’t been around for her to hide from. But he suspected that she meant this. Attraction. Relationships. There was a reason that she hadn’t been with anyone, and he didn’t think it was really because of her scars. At least, not her outward scars.

  “I’m pretty scary,” he said, to avoid taking the conversation into deeper territory. “I don’t blame you for hiding from me one bit.”

  He rocked his hips forward, letting her feel the evidence of how much he wanted her.

  “Gage,” she said, “I don’t have time. I have to go to work.”

  “Fair enough. But are you going to come over after work?”

  He didn’t know quite what he was doing. Quite what they were doing.

  “Yes,” she said, ducking her head.

  “Good,” he said, grabbing hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilting her face back up so he could steal another kiss. “I’ll make you dinner.”

  She blinked rapidly. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “You’ll be hungry. And I want to.”

  She chewed her bottom lip, and he could see that it was giving her serious issues. That she couldn’t decide whether or not it was okay for him to cook for her, or if that would be unbalancing their scales even more, as she saw it.

  “Stop keeping score,” he said, his tone stern.

  “I don’t know how.”

  “It’s easy. Stop keeping track.”

  The edict was as much for himself as it was for her. Maybe, while he was here getting all of the stuff with his family sorted out, he could have this too. Maybe, he could leave town with everything fixed for Rebecca and in the meantime... There could be this.

  “Dinner will be on at six. Don’t be late or I’ll eat it all.”

  “I should help you with the horses.”

  He shook his head. “You have to go. So go.”

  He could see that she was relieved to get some distance between them, and that was the main reason she didn’t argue about getting out of taking care of the horses’ tack.

  He watched her turn to leave, watched the gentle sway of her hips and the glossy shimmer of her hair as she shook her head. She was doing something to him. Something he hadn’t expected. Something he certainly hadn’t been looking for.

  He felt stuck to the spot in that moment, as though roots were growing beneath his feet. The kind of roots he had spent seventeen years avoiding.

  He gritted his teeth and headed back out to grab hold of his horse. He wasn’t staying here. That wasn’t an option. No matter how tempting Rebecca Bear made it seem.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “SO, ARE YOU coming tonight?”

  Rebecca stared across the store at Alison, who was standing next to Lane, both of them on their lunch breaks and perusing the shelves for various Christmas items.

  Rebecca could have punched her own face. She had forgotten that tonight was their girls’ night.

  “I’m busy,” she said, grabbing a dry rag from by the cash register and working at a bit of imaginary dust on her counter.

  “You’re busy?” Alison asked, her tone disbelieving.

  “I have a life, Alison,” Rebecca said.

  “Yes, I’m sure you do. It’s just that it mostly centers on us.”

  Lane looked at her askance. “Are you busy with anyone in particular?”

  Rebecca felt her face heat up. Dammit. If only she could figure out how to control that particular reaction. “Maybe I’m going home and playing solitaire.”

  “Or having dinner with Jonathan?” Lane asked. “That’s what I would’ve gone with.”

  Rebecca scowled. “Fine. You’re better at lying than I am.”

  “What’s going on?” Alison asked, looking increasingly annoyed.

  “Rebecca has a special friend.”

  The wave of heat intensified¸ and Rebecca felt like she might suffocate beneath her embarrassment. “He’s not a... Don’t call him that.”

  “A special friend?” Alison raised an eyebrow. “Like a special friend...like a penis friend?”

  “Alison!” Rebecca scolded.

  “I’m so jealous,” Alison said. “Well, I’m not really. Men are douche bags. And they’re more trouble than they’re worth.” She held up a hand. “Not that I’m not thrilled for you.”

  “It’s not like that. It’s not a relationship. It’s...” Lane made an obscene hand gesture.

  “Thank you, Lane,” Rebecca said drily, “that’s what it is.”

  “That’s ideal,” Alison said.

  “Anyway, that’s why I’m busy.”

  “I suppose I should be offended because sisterhood and chicks before dicks and stuff, but God knows if I had a chance at getting laid tonig
ht that’s where I would be too,” Lane said.

  “He’s making dinner or I would do the girl thing first,” Rebecca said, feeling defensive at the idea that she might be abandoning her friends for a man. Of course, she had never had occasion to be accused of such a thing.

  “He’s making dinner?” Lane asked, her tone altering.

  “Yes. He does eat and he therefore cooks.”

  “Yes, but he’s cooking for you. Which is different. Also, it’s more than just sex.”

  “It’s sex and food. Which I have to say, are both good.” She tried to sound casual as she said that. “So, don’t ask me to look quite as worried about it as you do.”

  “I just think you should be careful with this guy.”

  “What guy is it?” This question came from Alison, and that was when Rebecca realized that Lane had not filled their other friend in on any of the details.

  “A guy. That owns my building and caused my accident. That guy.”

  “Who is also Gage West,” Lane said, clearly unable to hold back information any longer. “Of the increasingly disgraced Wests. And he’s easily the worst, not even solely because of Rebecca’s accident. But he ran off years ago and nobody knew what happened to him. He just kind of left the whole family—which, given what a mess they are, kind of makes sense now—but still makes him seem a little bit like a flight risk.

  “Another risk,” Lane continued, “quite frankly, is that he seems like an extremely dangerous choice. Which, I guess probably makes it fun?”

  Rebecca frowned. She didn’t exactly like the idea of Gage being some kind of strange response to her spending so many years being sheltered. Though, she imagined whatever sexual relationship she chose to embark on would be that to a degree. Because it was taking a step. Breaking through years of habit and self-protection and allowing herself to be, if not completely vulnerable with somebody, then naked in the literal sense at least.

  Of course, you haven’t let him see you yet.

  But, he wasn’t pushing for it either. She wasn’t going to lead that charge. The idea of him seeing her body, the scars, where the skin grafts were... She didn’t like that at all.

  “So how did you get to having sex with that guy from wanting to kill him not that long ago?” Alison asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

  Lane gave her a bland look. “Sometimes attraction doesn’t make sense.”

  “I’m familiar with going from love to hate. This... I guess it’s been so long for me that I forgot. On second thought, maybe I don’t miss it as much as I thought I did.”

  “Well, as much fun as this has been, I think you ladies have jobs to get back to,” Rebecca said.

  “That’s nice,” Lane said, her tone dry. “Look how quickly we’ve been replaced.”

  “You haven’t been replaced. It’s just that I’m not going to stand here and discuss the nature of my...dalliances.”

  “Is there more than one dalliance?” Alison asked, her eyebrows raised.

  Rebecca noticed that Lane looked slightly concerned. “No there isn’t,” she said, her tone emphatic. “Gage is quite enough on his own.”

  Too much.

  “Okay,” Lane said, “you have a point. I should get back to work. But, give me a call if you need anything. We’ll be traveling in a pack tonight.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Alison held up her finger, signifying that she needed another minute, and Lane nodded before walking out of the store. The petite redhead moved closer to the counter, her expression full of concern. “Is everything okay?”

  “It is. I promise. I know it’s weird, but he didn’t force me into anything. I get that from the outside looking in it seems incredibly unhealthy and maybe it even is. But I think it’s something I need.”

  That made Alison’s expression get even more concerned. “The minute you feel like you need him, it’s trouble.”

  “That isn’t what I meant. I know that you are on hyperalert for this kind of thing, and I don’t blame you. But he isn’t like your ex-husband. I wouldn’t say he’s a nice guy, but he doesn’t pretend to be either. He’s definitely not Prince Charming. He’s not even the huntsman. He might be the beast. But I’m not holding out hope I’m going to find the man underneath all that. That isn’t the point. This is for me, it isn’t for him.”

  But the moment that she said it, she realized that he was getting something out of this too. That as selfish as she intended for it to be, he needed it for some reason just as badly as she did. And she cared about that. She was starting to care about him.

  “What happened...” She took a deep breath. “It happened. But it doesn’t define me, and it shouldn’t define him either.”

  “Okay. I trust you. But I don’t trust him. And if anything happens... If he hurts you any more than he already has, I’m going to shank him with the sharp end of my pie server.”

  Rebecca took a deep breath, trying to ease the tension in her chest. Battling with the strange emotions that were bubbling to the surface. There was something about this relationship that was forcing honesty. Between herself and Gage, between herself and her friends. Within herself.

  And she had never felt more grateful for Alison, Lane and Cassie than she did now. That she had backup if she needed it. That she could have this conversation with them. And that they would have her back regardless of what was happening.

  She rounded to the front of the counter and wrapped her arms around Alison, pulling her friend in close. “Thank you,” she said, releasing her almost as quickly as she’d taken hold of her.

  She wasn’t a big one for touch. Mostly because it hadn’t been on offer. Her mother had been distant at best, and then absent after that. Jonathan wasn’t demonstrative. He’d grown up in the same environment she had, if not slightly worse. From what she had been told, his father had been a horrible bastard who had only touched anyone with his fists.

  Rebecca’s father was just gone. That, she imagined was preferable. Still, she was starting to think that maybe she needed a little more than she had previously imagined. That she needed the people in her life to be a little bit closer than she had always kept them.

  “You’re welcome,” Alison said, her eyes looking suspiciously bright. “I’m always here for you. You know that.”

  Rebecca nodded and smiled, doing her best not to get stupid emotional.

  After Alison left she spent the rest of the day in a kind of strange suspended state, held between anticipation and dread. Now she was thinking that the dinner thing was a bigger deal than she had originally given it credit for being, thanks to the overreaction of her dear friends.

  By the time she pulled into Gage’s driveway she was nearly trembling with a strange adrenaline-fueled anticipation that made her limbs feel weak and her stomach clench tight. She took her hands off the steering wheel and shook them, as if she could release the nervous energy through the ends of her fingers.

  A little shiver ran through her and she got out of the truck, taking every step a little bit harder than necessary, as though it might ground her a little bit.

  She took a deep breath before knocking on the door, and then she waited. She didn’t hear anything. No footsteps, no sounds of clattering pans. Great. He was probably hiding. He had probably found some nice sexually experienced girl to do some real acrobatics with.

  She was being intentionally dramatic, but even still the very thought made her feel like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  The door opened and she jumped, then her focus went straight to his bare chest, which was right at her eye level. Her mouth dried and she let herself slowly, very slowly, take in the view before her. Gage was shirtless, and he was wearing a pair of very low-slung jeans that showed off his hard-cut abs and a matching pair of glorious indents that seem to make an arrow that disappeared beneath the denim, drawing her eye right down to the bulge at the apex of his thighs.

  Well, this was what she gave up, making love to him in the dark. She had o
nly thought of herself, of protecting her dignity and all of that. She hadn’t really appreciated what all she was missing by denying herself the sight of his body.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re violating a health code,” she said, her words scratchy as she tried to force them through her terminally dry throat. “Wandering around the kitchen half-dressed.”

  She looked up at his face then, at the extremely self-satisfied and unapologetic look in his eyes. “But you like it,” he said.

  She couldn’t really argue with that, but still, she tried to keep her expression stoic. She breezed past him and walking into the house. “I want to make sure my food’s preparation is up to standard.”

  He reached out, grabbing hold of her wrists and drawing her hands forward, pressing her palms against his bare chest. “You like me like this.”

  “Sure,” she said, going up on her tiptoes and kissing his lips, a rush of pleasure and regret racing through her as soon as she finished. It was a little bit too telling, both to him and herself for her to start acting all affectionate. But she was desperate to taste him. So maybe that was more sexual than it was affectionate.

  She needed lines. Unfortunately, every available line seemed to be blurry. Because sex felt good, and made her want to feel good more often. Heaven knew she had too little of it in her life. Then there was the fact that every inch of him pressed against every inch of her made her feel warm all over, made her feel like curling her toes just thinking about it. Which made her want to touch him, in some capacity, in any capacity, every time she saw him.

  Which started to feel a lot more like closeness than simple physicality. Blurry damn lines.

  “I don’t want to brag, but I’m actually a pretty good cook. It comes from years of being on the road and making do with incredibly Spartan situations. I’m the MacGyver of cooking.”

  “Does that mean you made a tortilla out of a paperclip?”

  He laughed. “Not quite. But, if it exists I’ve probably cooked it on a camp stove. So what I made for you tonight is skillet macaroni and cheese with bacon, a salad, just so we don’t feel guilty, and I bought a pie from your friend Alison.”