by Diana Tobin
After that, the only time Suzanne invited him to her bed was when she wanted something. He’d quickly learned her game. He refused to be unfaithful; not to her, but to his vows. There were times when he didn’t take her up on her invitation, and others when he used her for his own release and denied her what she’d wanted. Not that he could afford what she asked for.
By the time she’d asked for a divorce, she admitted she’d never been pregnant and never would be. Once she’d set her sights on him she’d had her tubes tied. She wasn’t about to ruin her figure having some farmer’s brat. Nor did she want the little trouble makers underfoot.
Now, Lynn was telling him she wanted to bear his child.
What was she really after?
He’d released her hands and saw her rubbing and stretching her fingers. Maybe he should feel sorry for hurting her, but he felt like he’d had his balls kicked to his throat. “Are you expecting me to marry you?” He shoved back his chair, heedless of knocking it over in his need to get away from her. “I’ve been that route with my ex-wife. It’s not going to work again.”
Lynn’s eyes went round with surprise. “Yo-you’ve m-made it clear you d-don’t believe in marriage.”
“Damn straight, I don’t!” he shouted. “Marriage is nothing but a trap to squeeze a man dry, until there’s barely a drop of blood left.” He shoved a hand through his hair as he paced about the room, keeping as much distance as possible between them. “I thought you were different. Is that why you spent so much time on the road side stand? Doing the one thing no other woman in this family had? Coming up with all these ideas as if you really cared about this farm? About me. Like you told Pam Simpson; I’m just stud service. Well, no more.”
He jammed his hands on his hips and refused to let her tears move him. He was done with being used. “You can find some other sucker. You won’t be using me.”
Slowly, Lynn rose from her chair. She didn’t bother to wipe away the tears streaming down her face. She looked at him with disgust and disappointment. “I suspected for some time you were done with me the way you kept reminding me to let you know when I was ready to move on. This was your excuse to end things between us. All you had to say was no.” She pushed her shoulders back and stood straight. “I don’t know what all your ex-wife did to you, but she’s gotten the last word. You’ve let her win. You are determined not to move beyond what she did to you. My mistake was thinking you were different.” She raised a hand when he opened his mouth to dispute her claim. “Oh, you were different from my father, from Donny, but underneath you’re all the same. It’s a shame you only grow berries and pumpkins. You should be raising pigs. You’d fit right in.”
Without another word, Lynn walked out of the house. He heard the quiet click of the back door, not the slam he’d expected. He heard her car start up and the sound of the engine faded into the night.
She was wrong.
Suzanne hadn’t won. She’d just proved what women were truly like. His mistake was thinking Lynn was different. He ignored the fact his thoughts reflected what Lynn had said.
He should have been enough. For his mother, for Suzanne. For Lynn. Instead, they wanted more than he could give.
He refused to think about how he’d been seeing a future with Lynn as she talked about plans for the farm stand. She was looking forward and he’d seen himself there with her. But, again, he hadn’t been enough.
JC wasn’t going to think about his failures or the fact his heart might actually be broken. He was going to hold on to his anger at being fooled again. He had his work and his farm. He didn’t need more.
○◊○
Lynn didn’t want to return to the farm, but she’d left some things at the stand. Things she feared JC would sell or leave out for anyone to take. Most of her scrapbooking supplies were under the counter so she could work on projects between customers. She’d spent hard-earned money on those supplies, and she wasn’t about to let them go.
She also never wanted to lay eyes on James Cotton Benjamin again.
Maybe he wasn’t quite the pig Donny and her father were, but he was still swine. He’d made her believe in the future, in herself, and most of all, he’d made her fall in love. Truly, deeply in love. And, he’d broken her heart.
Not the sickening disappointment she’d felt upon finding Donny in bed with Becky. Not the continual failure she’d felt at not becoming what her father wanted, only to realize her father was a sick and warped individual. It was all of that, and more, mixed together.
She realized now he’d been telling her for weeks he wanted to end their affair, but he wanted her to do it so he could be the gentleman. What she had taken for affection and love had been nothing more than a convenience for him. She’d run the farm stand for him, providing an actual income for a change. She’d prepared meals for him, so when he came home hungry and tired she’d renewed his energy and made the ending of his day easier. Even more, she’d warmed his bed in any way, shape, or form he desired proving just how easy she was.
She had done the things she had because she wanted to. She wanted to make his days easier. She wanted to share his burdens, as well as his joys. She’d liked being coddled and cuddled in his arms. She’d loved it.
But, JC was never going to get beyond what his wife had done to him. Lynn doubted he even wanted to. His ex-wife was a convenient excuse. He could shut out the world, refuse to move on, refuse to share more with anyone, because of what the former Mrs. Benjamin had done.
You were supposed to learn from your mistakes, not repeat them or wallow in them. She thought she’d moved on; instead, she’d done a Donny repeat. Do all, be all, in hopes he’ll love you. She fit the definition of insanity; she did the same things over and over expecting better results.
Well, no more.
She would be fine on her own. Someday, a good man might come along. She wouldn’t look for him, wouldn’t expect him, but wouldn’t turn her back if he showed up. She’d continue to work hard, save her money and if she didn’t have a baby of her own, she might adopt one. There were plenty of children needing a good home, and she had a lot of love to give.
Perhaps she had approached JC all wrong with her baby request. Something about it had really set him off, enough so he compared her to his ex-wife. She felt there was more to the story, but it was no longer her problem. He was no longer her problem, nor her joy.
What Lynn wouldn’t do was let her experiences with her father, Donny, and JC drag her down to become a bitter human being like the three of them. Rather, she would look to her mother and her sister. Both had suffered through bad first marriages and look how the tables had turned for them.
She was lucky to have such a loving family around her and she wouldn’t forget it.
But, right now, she just wanted to avoid JC and clear out her things.
It only took a few minutes to gather her scrapbook supplies and load them in her car. Her heart hitched when she saw the quilt in a corner. The quilt they all too often spread on the floor to keep from getting splinters as they made love.
No, they didn’t make love, despite how she’d felt. It was only sex. At least, for JC.
She stomped on the quilt and kicked it aside. She didn’t realize she was crying until her breath caught on a sob. “Damn it! And, damn you, JC.” She swiped at her face and placed her key on the counter. She didn’t stop to close the padlock on the door. His business was no longer hers.
○◊○
Hours later, Michaela found Lynn curled up, asleep, in the hammock in her yard. “Hey, Sis. Wake up.” As soon as Lynn opened her red-rimmed eyes, Michaela swore. “What did that bastard do?”
Lynn couldn’t stop the pathetic laugh. “I love you, Micki.”
“Of course you do. I love you, too. Now, what did he do?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” She swung her legs over the side, shaking out a foot that had gone to sleep. “Thanks for the use of your hammock.”
“You don’t ne
ed permission or an invitation to be at my house.” She held Lynn’s arm until she was steady on her feet. “You’re freezing! Let’s go in and start a fire in one of my fireplaces.”
“Braggart,” Lynn mumbled.
“Yep, but you still love me,” Micki said smugly. “We’ll open some wine, order pizza, and you can not tell me what’s had you crying.”
“No one delivers pizza here.”
“My husband will.” Micki looped her arm with Lynn’s as they walked up the slope to the house. “Do you want Mom or Dani to join us? Or, just you and me?”
Lynn was shaking her head. “I don’t want to see anyone else. Can you just spend a little time with me, please?”
“Of course, honey.” She ran a hand over Lynn’s short hair. “All the time you need.”
○◊○
He’d seen her in the hammock. Watched her curl into a ball as her shoulders shook. He knew she was crying and it filled his heart with joy.
He’d been crying when they’d taken him to the hospital. His nose was broken, his wrist fractured where that oaf stepped on it. His body was covered in bruises and his balls had ached so much his teeth had hurt. It had taken weeks for him to get an erection, and only when he pictured his fist plowing into her face. Seeing the fear in her eyes. Hearing her plead for mercy.
He could’ve ended her today. Hit her over the head and dragged her into the lake. Bye, bye, bitch.
But, he’d enjoyed seeing her misery. He’d rubbed his crotch, pleasuring himself as she cried herself to sleep. Even though he was hidden among the trees, he decided it would be best done in darkness. Before he could make his move, the bitch sister had shown up.
He wasn’t sure he could take them both without a weapon. He’d never changed a tire in his life. That was a job for some poor uneducated slob, not for him. But, he’d look in the trunk and find something to protect himself with.
Next time he found her alone, or nearly, she wouldn’t be so lucky.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lynn woke to a pounding head and the scent of wood smoke. Moving cautiously, she realized she hurt from head to toe and was lying on something hard. Geez! Had JC tossed her out of bed? She winced when he shook her shoulder.
“Lynn. Come on, Sis. Time to wake up.”
He never called her Sis. What was going on? The next instant, memory flooded back, doubling her pain. She tried to move away from the hand rocking her and curl into a ball. “Wheremi?”
“My house.” This was followed by a giggle. “I’ve never seen you drink so much.” A sharp breath was sucked in. “Don’t you dare get sick on my new floors. Come on, honey.” The shaking started again. “I have to open my shop and the workers are here. I’d let you stay and sleep, but you won’t be happy once they start hammering and sawing. I’m not sending them away. I want to be moved in before Halloween.” Michaela tugged the sleeping bag away from Lynn’s body, ready to help her stand. “I’ll take you home and you can sleep it off the rest of the day.”
“Sleep.” The urgency in Micki’s voice prodded Lynn to make her limbs work. “Feel awful. Dying.”
With an arm around her sister’s waist, Micki dragged Lynn toward the door.
“Is she all right?” Tom Lansing, construction foreman, stepped over to help the women.
Lynn kept her eyes closed and groaned.
“We um…partied last night,” Micki explained. “My sister is never like this.”
Tom grinned, taking more of Lynn’s weight. “Celebration?”
“Not exactly. It’s my fault. I encouraged her to over-indulge. She’s gonna kill me, if she survives.”
“What did she take?” Tom frowned. Besides doing construction, he was part of the volunteer fire department in Webster. Both required more than a basic knowledge of first aid.
“Wine,” Michaela admitted on a sigh. “Lots and lots of wine.”
His expression smoothing out, Tom bent to slide an arm under Lynn’s legs and scooped her up against his broad chest. “I’ll carry her to your car. You get the doors.”
“Thanks, Tom.” She hurried ahead so he could slip Lynn into the passenger seat.
When he stepped outside, Lynn burrowed her face into his neck, as if hiding from the sun. Her fingers were at his nape and she murmured against his throat. “JC?”
Tom swallowed hard and decided JC was one lucky bastard. “No, ma’am. I’m Tom.” Her pitiful little “oh” knotted his gut. Gently, he placed her in the car, reaching across to fasten her seat belt. “A hot shower, aspirin, and some sleep and you’ll be good as new, pretty lady.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He had a sudden urge to kiss away the tears slipping down her face, but forced himself to take a step back and close the door.
“Tom, thank you.” Michaela waved a hand toward the car and her sister. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak to anyone about this. Like I said, this is unusual for Lynn. Yesterday was….difficult for her. I tried to cheer her up. Maybe too much.”
“I’m not a gossip, Mrs. Reigh,” Tom stated coldly and turned on his heel, headed for his truck.
“Well, hell. I didn’t mean to insult the man,” Micki grumbled as she got into the car.
“I’m late for work,” Lynn said in a meek voice.
“No, it’s okay,” Micki assured her. “I phoned Mom last night. She’s handling the café today.”
“Did you tell her –”
“I didn’t give her details. I figured that’s up to you when, and if, you want. I just told her you and JC had called it quits and we were having a little sister time. I also mentioned you might need to sleep in this morning.” Micki’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “I wouldn’t mind giving JC a taste of what you gave that idiot Donald.”
“Not his fault.” Lynn closed her eyes and leaned her head back, wishing it would just fall off her shoulders. “He tried to warn me. I read more than was there. His wife really screwed him over.”
“Tough!” Micki spit out, then apologized when Lynn flinched from the noise. “From what I’ve heard, his ex-wife was years ago. Time for him to put on his big boy panties. Or, jock strap. Whatever men are supposed to do.”
Lynn placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts too much.” But her lips curved a bit. “I believe the phrase you’re looking for is grow a pair.”
“Yeah, well, considering how many sleepovers the two of you had, I figured he had a pretty good pair. Ethan sure does.”
“Please,” Lynn begged. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life with my brother-in-law. Mostly because you’re just bragging.”
“Yep, I am. I surely am,” Micki said with a satisfied smile. “I know someone else who must have a pretty good pair. I hope he’s not too p.o.’d at me to get my house finished on time.”
“No riddles, Micki. Little men with jackhammers are in my head.”
“I’m talking about Tom Lansing, Sis. My foreman? A real knight in shining denim. He just scooped you up and carried you to the car. For a minute, I thought he was going to climb in with you.”
“Oh, no. I was hoping that was a hallucination.”
“He won’t say anything. I asked him not to, and I think I insulted him.” She blew out a breath. “I’ll have Ethan talk to him. Here we are, honey. I’ll get you inside, then I need to get to work.”
Lynn waited for Micki to come around to her side of the car, fearing she’d be reduced to crawling without help. “Thanks, Sis. For last night and today.”
“That’s what sisters are for.” Micki kissed Lynn’s cheek. “You get some rest and follow Tom’s directions. Shower, aspirin, sleep.”
○◊○
JC used the back road in and out of his property for a week before admitting he was a coward. He wasn’t ready to face Lynn, and the best way to avoid her was to steer clear of the farm stand. He’d been leaving home before sunup and returning long after dark. He was beyond exhausted, cranky, and calling hi
mself seven kinds of fool for letting things get so out of hand with Lynn.
He should’ve ended things with her weeks before. She’d sucked him in with home cooking, hard work, and the best loving of his life.
Just thinking the word love had him wincing.
Still, he shouldn’t have left all the work to her. He got tired harvesting those damn pumpkins; they had to be too much for her. Her idea of the hayrides, and letting customers choose their own pumpkins from the field, was a good one. Tomorrow, he’d bite the bullet and stay home to work on the wagon.
His feet dragged as he headed for the dark house. He’d been coming home to a dark, empty house for years. It shouldn’t bother him so much tonight, but it did.
JC nearly missed the note stuck to the door.
Thinking it must be from Lynn, he took the time to remove his dirty boots before walking through the dark rooms to the kitchen. Only then did he turn on a light to read the note.
Benji, Came to get pumpkins, but your hired hand was no where
to be found. Longing to see you. Pammy
A heart encircled the signature with a phone number below.
Pammy could long all she wanted; he didn’t long to see her. Fool woman must’ve come after Lynn closed for the day. But, an itch at the back of his neck had him thinking he should check the stand.
Shoving his feet back into his boots, he grabbed a flashlight and his keys, and stomped back out the door. Pamela Simpson didn’t have the brains given a goose, yet something didn’t feel right.
The padlock hanging open raised the hair on the back of his neck. Lynn was always careful about locking up. In fact, she was the one who’d insisted on locks being installed. Carefully, he opened the door, shining his light inside.
Empty. “Idiot,” he muttered. “Of course it’s empty.” None of Lynn’s scrapbook supplies could be seen, which simply meant she’d taken them to use at home. The quilt they’d made love on was wadded in a corner. Normally, Lynn folded it neatly and placed it on top of a cooler under the counter.