The Heart of Falcon Ridge (The McLendon Family Saga, #1)

by D. L. Roan

  Claira cleared her throat and pushed her purse strap higher onto her shoulder. “I should be going.” She glanced at Josiah, and then Matt and Mason who stepped to either side of her.

  “No, honey, you finish up with the boys here.” Hazel patted her arm and winked at her. What that was about she wasn’t exactly certain, but she was sure that she couldn’t stay there under the torturous stare that Grey seemed determined to wield, like a sword to her soul.

  “But—”

  “But nothin’,” Joe insisted. “I parked the truck behind your car anyway, so you can’t leave until we do. Tiny little thing that it is, I damn near ran over that contraption before I figured out what it was. Don’t see you makin’ it up this driveway in that thing come winter. You might ought to be thinkin’ about tradin’ it in for an adult version before the snow sets in. Maybe somethin’ with four-wheel drive and a motor, instead of a hamster.”

  “Josiah! Stop teasing the poor girl!” Hazel slapped his arm and pushed him past Grey, out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

  “I’m just sayin’!” Joe went on as he made his way down the hall. “Hamsters tend to freeze up around here about mid-November. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she got stranded out in the middle of a storm because her hamster died of hypothermia.”

  Shaking their heads, Matt and Mason took Claira’s hands and pulled her past a fuming Grey to follow their parents to the door. Claira felt the heat rolling off Grey as she ducked past him in retreat without looking back. “Goodnight, Ma, Papa Joe. Thanks for the leftovers.” Mason helped Hazel slip on her sweater and she leaned in to give him a peck on his cheek.

  “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. McLendon, Mr. McLendon.” Claira allowed herself to hug the woman back when she’d pulled her into her arms with an unexpected strength.

  Hazel gripped her shoulders in her hands and leaned back to look at her. “Now I’m only going to say this one more time, then I’m going to have to unleash Joe on you again. It’s just Hazel. You make a young woman feel old when you start in with that Mrs. business.”

  Claira laughed and gave her a shy nod. “Sorry. I’ll remember that.”

  “You do that, honey.” She patted Claira’s arm and then swatted Matt and Mason on their backsides as she tipped her head toward the kitchen. “Don’t be too hard on your brother, boys. I imagine he’s had a rough time of it today and he’ll need some time to sort it all out.”

  Matt nodded, but he had every intention of giving Grey exactly what he needed; an all-out, old fashioned ass whipping. It had been years since they’d gone at it, but that dry spell was one he would damn well be putting an end to. Being a giant fuckwad to Claira was bad enough, but he’d be damned if he was going to let him use their boys as a whipping post for his unresolved emotional problems.

  Seeing her opportunity to escape, Claira ducked out the door behind Hazel. Matt and Mason followed her out onto the porch and captured her hands, putting a halt to her determined strides toward the steps. She tugged against them, but they tightened their grip, tugging her back to them as they leaned against the wooden railing that surrounded the porch.

  “Wait,” Mason said as he pulled her against him and snuggled her to his chest. “Sorry, sweetheart. That kind of got a little out of hand in there.”

  A little? Since their kiss—which was how she’d come to think of it, as if she’d kissed them both—her head hadn’t stopped spinning and her stomach was in knots. All she wanted to do was go home, hope that her water heater had had second thoughts and was willing to play nice, and take a hot shower. Then crawl into bed and bawl her eyes out.

  “Hey,” Matt said as he cupped her cheek in his palm. “What’s that look for, darlin’? What’s wrong?”

  Where did she begin?

  “Don’t close down on us, darlin’.” Matt pleaded.

  Claira released a frustrated sigh and rubbed her aching temples. The psychologist in her wanted to list, catalog and self-analyze all of the feelings that were eating away at her. A few off the top of her head made their way to a mental checklist; overwhelmed, scared, excited, aroused and sad. The one that she scrawled in big, bold letters at the top was tired. Going with that one was unquestionably her safest option.

  “I’m just really tired. I need a long, hot shower and some time alone to think, but even that won’t be possible tonight.” She tried to keep the whine out of her voice but failed.

  Mason placed a soothing kiss to her forehead then turned her until her back was to him. He gripped the top of her shoulders and began a smooth, slow massage of her tense muscles. “Why’s that, sweetheart? It sounds like a good plan to me if you’re that tired. Besides, it’s Friday. You don’t have class tomorrow. Get all warm and toasty, snuggle into bed and sleep in tomorrow.”

  The things Mason was doing to her shoulders felt so good that she had to focus all her inner strength into breathing and keeping her knees locked so she didn’t melt into a gooey mess at their feet.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “That’s just it,” Claira sighed.

  Standing in front of her, Matt knew Mason had found a weakness when her head fell forward and she relaxed against his chest. “What’s it, darlin’?”

  “My water heater,” She answered in almost a slur.

  Matt groaned to himself. He could imagine her husky voice, in that lazy tone, moaning his name as he licked the evidence of her climax from her pussy, her slick channel milking his tongue as she fell from the orgasm he’d given her.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Mason asked, snapping Matt from his entranced state.

  “Mmm,” She moaned as Mason found a particularly tender spot. “It’s broken. I have to call the landlord tomorrow. It will probably take him a few days to get it fixed so I won’t be...ahh...taking any hot showers for a while.”

  “Who’s your landlord?” Matt asked, reaching down to adjust his raging hard-on while she wasn’t looking. Much more of this and he’d need a cold shower, not that the last three he’d taken had helped any.

  “Uh...Dillon, I think. Drummond? Frank Somethingorother.” She hissed as Mason found another tender spot.

  “Frank Dryson?” Matt asked. “You rented his place over on Harvest Lane?”

  “That’s it.” She nodded. “You know him?”

  “He’s our cousin.” Mason chuckled. “We did the remodeling work on the kitchen for him.”

  “So you’re the ones I have to thank for that.”

  “You like it?” Matt asked, sliding his hand up between Mason’s to caress the back of her neck as his brother continued to massage her shoulders. He loved the silky feeling of her soft, curly hair. They weren’t the frizzy, kinky type of curls that women paid to get with those perms. Hers were fat, soft curls that fell around her face and flirted with her shoulders.

  “Do I like what?” She slurred again, and slumped further against Mason, trapping Matt’s hand against his brother’s chest.

  Mason chuckled this time, moving his hands from her shoulders and wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her up as she relaxed against him. Matt watched her relax in his brother’s arms.

  “It’s my favorite room,” she finally said. “I’ll have to make you some fudge one day. The counters are perfect for it.”

  Call him a sexist pig if it fit, but Matt pictured Claira, bare feet and all, bending over to peer into their oven, the smell of something delicious filling the air as he and his brothers came in from a hard day on the ranch; her hair mussed around her face and her cheeks flushed from the heat rolling from the oven.

  His chest ached as his picture of Claira mingled with memories of Sarah, but it wasn’t the painful squeeze he’d expected. It was a fullness the likes of which he’d never felt. Not even when his boys were born.

  It wasn’t just Claira. It was the hope that she brought to them. He’d never let himself believe they would ever find what they had with Sarah, but now... And he could see the same thoughts mirrored in his twin’s expression.

 
Grinning a stupid-silly grin, Mason pushed away from the railing and took Claira’s hand, pulling her toward the end of the porch. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.” Claira looked back at Matt, but he stayed where he was, waving them on.

  Matt knew where Mason was taking her. Mason always got that look in his eye when he was thinking about some animal or another, especially horses and puppies. He’d let them have a few moments to themselves. As much as it pained him to let her go, to not touch her, he knew from experience the importance of them spending some alone time with Claira.

  Even though they would be sharing equally in her life and love, they needed to build their own relationships with her too. “You guys go ahead.” He waved them off. “I’ll help Grey get the boys settled into bed and meet you there in a few.”

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off them until the darkness swallowed their silhouettes and then moments later a soft glow of light filled the barn. He’d bet his last buck that Mason was trying to figure out how to talk her up the ladder to the hay loft. He chuckled as he reached for the door handle and pushed his way inside. The sooner he kicked Grey’s ass and got the boys in bed, the sooner he could join them.

  Chapter Nine

  Self-loathing wasn’t something Grey was unfamiliar with, at least not lately. He needed his ass kicked for the way he’d spoken to his boys downstairs. Hell, he’d kick his own ass if he could, but that wouldn’t erase the picture of Car and Con looking back at him as they climbed the stairs, expressions of disappointment and rejection smothering their innocence.

  An apology wouldn’t fix it. Not this time. His behavior toward his sons, toward everyone, had been inexcusable, and not just since he’d met Claira. Even though she’d thrown a wrench in his plans to live comfortably numb from his neck down for the rest of his life, Grey knew that he’d been acting like a prick for months.

  He knew it, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. When he’d begun to notice the things he was unable to recollect about Sarah, bitterness and guilt devoured him. The more the bitterness ate at him, the more he’d pulled away from his family, afraid they would see him for the failure he was. The more he pulled away, the more they seemed to go on without him, without her. As he watched them all go about their lives the more bitter he became. It was like watching a train wreck with no power to stop it or to even look away.

  Meeting Claira seemed to ignite something inside him that intensified the bitterness. Witnessing his brother’s reactions to her, feeling his own body’s betrayal, made him realize he no longer had a choice. His family, even his own damn body was moving on whether he wanted to or not. Having his choices taken from him made his blood boil. He was always in control, goddammit. Why couldn’t he control this? Why couldn’t he fix it?

  “Is daddy Matt coming to read to us tonight?” Con’s small, innocent voice pierced his heart, snapping him from his silent rage. “Or is that part of our punishment, too?”

  Grey’s heart broke. It was all he could do to hold in the sob that filled his chest. He’d been so caught up in his own misery that he hadn’t said a single word to either of his sons as they bathed and he got them ready for bed. He was such an ass. He fell to his knees and pulled Con out of his bed into his arms, reaching out to grasp Car’s little arm.

  Car flinched away from him and sat on the edge of the bed, refusing to look at him. Oh God. What had he done? “Car, come here, son.”

  “No!” Jumping from the bed, Car ran past him. Grey looked back to see Matt holding Car’s trembling little body in his arms, his face buried in the crook of Matt’s neck.

  Grey’s gaze connected with Matt’s. The unspoken anger that radiated from his brother and the scared expression on his son’s face would have brought him to his knees if he hadn’t already been there.

  Without a word, Matt turned with Car in his arms and walked to his bedroom down the hall, the door clicking closed behind him.

  “I’m sorry, daddy.” Con sniffled. His arms snaked around Grey’s neck. “We didn’t mean to make you mad at us again. We don’t need daddy Matt to read to us.”

  “Oh, Con.” Grey hugged his son to his chest and fell back to the floor with him in his arms “Don’t say that. You didn’t make me mad, son. Daddy Matt can read to you any time you want him to. I’m the one who should say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you and your brother.”

  “But we shouldn’t have gone with the Papas to the barn to see the puppies. I wouldn’t have gotten sick with my nose and then you wouldn’t have needed to yell at us.”

  “No, Con.” Grey sat up and stood Con on his feet. When his son wouldn’t meet his gaze, he hooked a finger under his chin and lifted his little face. When he saw his bottom lip trembling with the effort to hold back his tears, it was more than he could bear.

  He stood and picked Con up, setting him on the bed next to him. God, how did his fathers do it? He’d never seen them cry, not once, and he was one breath away from bawling like a baby in front of his six year old. He had to fix this; had to fix himself.

  With an effort he thought was beyond him, Grey took a deep breath and cleared the lump in his throat. He could do this. If he didn’t get this right he would lose any respect his sons had for him, if he hadn’t already lost Car’s. That, above all else, was intolerable.

  “No, you weren’t supposed to be in the barn. But, son, I had no right to speak to you and your brother that way.” He paused and draped his arm around Con’s little shoulders. “I know I haven’t been easy on you boys lately, and...and...” God, how did you say you were a dickhead asshole in first grader language? He swiped his hand through his hair and took another deep breath, reminding himself that he could do this.

  “You haven’t done anything wrong, Con. I couldn’t ask for two better sons than you and Car. And I want you to know that I would never, ever, get mad at you for being sick. Understand?”

  Con nodded and wiped at his eyes as Grey fought against his own tears again. “You’ll still be grounded when you do things me and your dads tell you not to,” he continued on to keep the lump in his throat from choking him. “But I’ll never dismiss you or talk to you again the way I did tonight. Okay?”

  Con nodded again and Grey pulled him onto his lap. “I love you. Don’t ever doubt that.” He gave Con a tight hug and held him out so that he could look into his eyes. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Sure, daddy, but, tomorrow can you talk Car into picking the black puppy? I really like him, but he won’t even think about it.”

  Grey laughed and lifted Con from his lap, settling him under the covers. For life to be that simple again. “I’m not sure if I can talk Car into anything tonight, buddy, but I’ll give it a shot in the morning.” He wasn’t sure how to fix this brokenness inside him, but he had to do something. He needed his sons.

  “Night daddy. I love you,” Con said with a yawn.

  Grey leaned down and ruffled his hair. “Good night, buddy. I love you, too.”

  He turned out the small Scooby Doo lamp beside his bed and walked to the door, pausing to glance back at Con before he eased the closed the door behind him.

  When he stepped out onto the porch, in desperate need of some fresh air, Grey noticed the light that flooded the barn. He peered down the driveway and saw exactly what he expected. She was still there. Mason must have taken her out to the barn to see the puppies. No way in hell could he deal with seeing her again, but he couldn’t make his feet move to retreat back into the house. Instead, he found himself crossing the field between the barn and the house, keeping to the shadows.

  He felt ridiculous sneaking around in the darkness on his own property. He told himself he wasn’t spying on his brother, just waiting for her to leave so that he was sure he didn’t interrupt them. That was it. He was doing Mason a favor by hiding in his own fucking tractor. He climbed up into the cab of the nearby combine, concealed in the darkness, where he waited for Claira to leave.

  He wasn’t dumb to h
is brothers’ plans, nor could he blame them. She was beautiful. He’d felt the same attraction to her the first time he’d seen her. The feminine sway of her hips when she walked, the small dip at the base of her spine, and her plump little ass that made him want to sink more than his teeth into her. He was an ass man, through and through, and what he’d seen of it, her ass was flawless. Sarah’s ass had been flawless, too.

  Grey cursed and banged his head against the tractor’s steering wheel. When he thought about Sarah and Claira in the same moment, his chest felt like it would burst open and spew out what was left of his heart. That was one big problem he didn’t know how to fix. How could he ever let go of Sarah enough to be with a woman that compelled him and his brothers the way Claira did? How could he possibly forget her more than he already had, and still be able to breathe?

  No other woman had made his body want to try until he saw Claira standing in the middle of her classroom covered in green paint. What was it about her that called to him? Grey didn’t know the answer. All he knew was that he wasn’t prepared to deal with any of it.

  His breath stilled when the barn door opened and the light spilled out into the yard. It was a good thing Mason had closed it behind him or Grey’s hiding spot would have been exposed. She was snuggled against Mason as they strolled through the darkness. His gaze was drawn to the gentle sway in her hips as they walked toward her car. Jesus, could he get any harder?

  Once they were out of sight, Grey climbed down from the tractor, groaning against the pain in his groin as he slipped unseen into the barn. Even over the aroma of hay and horseflesh, he could still smell her. The light fruity scent had driven him fucking mad when they’d all been crammed into the kitchen together. Now, he could detect the faint spice of her arousal mingled with that fruity concoction. At least he imagined he could. Had Mason tasted her? He would know for sure when Mason returned.

  ~*~*~*~*~