Broken: The Cavanaugh Brothers

by Laura Wright

  As they continued to go through their boxes, Mac asked her, “So, how’s it going at the bunkhouse?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “Good.”

  Sheridan felt her skin warm instantly. Thoughts of James Cavanaugh seemed to bring out that reaction in her. “Very pleasant. James is a good host. Thoughtful.”

  “Puts the toilet seat down?” Mac tossed in.

  “Yes, exactly.” Sheridan looked up. Mac was staring at her with a growing grin. “Did I say thoughtful?”

  “You did.”

  “And he is.”

  Mac stared at her for a moment. Then said, “So you’ve already had sex.”

  Sheridan gasped. “What . . . What?”

  Mac just shrugged.

  “How did you get that from thoughtful?”

  “Wasn’t the thoughtful,” Mac said on a laugh. “It was the pink-cheeked formality.”

  Dropping her head to her chest, Sheridan groaned. “Oh, God, okay. Yes. How does that make me look?”

  Mac snorted. “A: Do you really care? And B: Like a normal person who, not unlike the girl across from her, can’t resist a Cavanaugh brother.”

  That had Sheridan looking up again. She shook her head woefully, then broke out laughing.

  Mac did too.

  “I’m so screwed,” Sheridan said.

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “Seriously. This is way different from you and Deacon. I’m going back to Dallas, and James is . . .”

  “What?” Mac asked, pulling out a couple of folders from the box. “What is he doing? Because I don’t even think he knows right now.”

  For the briefest of seconds, Sheridan contemplated in silence, putting her focus into the massive square box in front of her and finding something borrowed for the bride. But she couldn’t stop herself.

  “Did you know he was engaged?” she asked Mac. “When he was in college?”

  The surprise on Mac’s face was enough of an answer, but she still said, “No.”

  “They broke it off, and whatever happened, he ended up leaving. He won’t tell me what happened. But clearly it’s affected his life, his outlook, how he views relationships. I think he’s terrified of really caring about someone—afraid he’s going to lose them.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” Mac said, placing a folder back in the box and taking out a few ceramic bowls. “Listen, I’ll give you a little history on the Cavanaughs because I wished I’d had more to go on when Deacon and I were first spending time together. But everything else is going to need to come from James.”

  Sheridan nodded. “Of course.”

  She fingered the painted bowl that had clearly been made by a child’s hands. “When Cass was taken, Lea pretty much lost her mind. Understandably so. But she never recovered. I knew things were bad over here, but I had no idea how bad.”

  A thread of unease moved through Sheridan. “How bad, Mac?”

  “Well, that’s the part I can’t speak to. I only know Deacon’s history, not James’s or Cole’s. But if it was anything like Deac’s . . .” Her eyes connected with Sheridan’s and they were more grave than she’d ever seen them. “Our conversation can’t leave the basement—”

  “Never,” Sheridan assured her. God, what had happened to James? Had his mother blamed him for Cass’s disappearance?

  “The Cavanaugh brothers are great men,” Mac said, setting the pottery aside and continuing to dig inside the box. Sheridan followed her lead. “But sometimes, a great man needs an even greater woman to remind him of that.”

  Sheridan nodded. Problem was, what if the man refused to listen? Refused to share his emotional history? Granted, James had opened up to her a little last night in bed. But would he continue to do so? She didn’t know. Her hand brushed over something soft, and at first she got slightly creeped out thinking it might be an animal who had crawled into the box and died. But it wasn’t anything like that.

  “Hey, look at this,” she said in wonder.

  “What is it?” Mac glanced up.

  Sheridan pulled out a red Stetson. Going by the size, it was a child’s.

  A bright, happy smile touched both Mac’s mouth and her eyes. “Cass’s hat. She loved that hat.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” Sheridan said inspecting the inside, the stitching and leather. But when she turned it over again something dropped out and landed in her lap. “A piece of paper.”

  “What?” Mac asked.

  “It was stuck in the sweatband.” She picked it up. “It’s a note.”

  An instant hum of tension filled the dank space.

  “Go ahead, read it,” Mac urged. “What does it say?”

  Sheridan unfolded the paper, her eyes scanning its contents. “‘Meet me at our spot at midnight. I can’t wait to see you. Be careful. I think someone might know about us.’”

  “Is it signed?” Mac asked, her voice the tightest Sheridan had ever heard it.

  She shook her head. “No. Just an S.”

  “S?” Mac said on a gasp.

  Sheridan looked up. Mac was on her knees, her eyes huge and her face pale.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Oh my God, that’s him. Can I see it?”

  She handed the note over immediately. “Who?”

  “The boy she liked. The boy she’d been seeing in secret.” Mac stared at the paper, her eyes moving back and forth over the words. Then she glanced up at Sheridan looking utterly bereft. “The boy we could never find after she was killed. The boy everyone believed didn’t exist.”

  Diary of Cassandra Cavanaugh

  May 4, 2002

  Dear Diary,

  I have to hurry. I’m late for school. I’m late because I tried talking to James about Sweet last night.

  It didn’t go well.

  At. All.

  I was trying to see if I could find out if he knew Sweet by asking about all the boys in his class. What they looked like and who he thought was the cutest and who might look like a surfer.

  He thought I was crazy, and he told me to get out of his room. He’s so mean.

  I’m just going to have to find out a different way.

  For now, maybe I’ll talk to Mac. I can’t keep this in anymore. I need advice. I’m scared of sneaking out at night, cuz I know my parents are going to catch me. Or Deac or James or Cole will. But I want to see Sweet.

  I have to.

  I love him.

  Crazy in love, but worried,

  Cass

  Twenty

  After the day he’d had, James couldn’t think of anyone he wanted to see more than Sheridan. As he opened the door to the bunkhouse and walked inside, he hoped she was back from her afternoon with Mac. But if she wasn’t, maybe he’d make her dinner. Serve it to her in bed.

  Hell, he grinned, heading down the hall, feed it to her while he whispered in her ear all the things he wanted to do to her. But the moment he entered his bedroom, all thoughts of cooking disintegrated.

  “Wow,” was all he could manage as he took in the woman before him.

  He’d seen Sheridan O’Neil in jeans and tanks, shirts and skirts—and she was as hot as blue fire in every last one of them. But this . . . What was turning in a slow circle in front of the free-standing mirror his great-grandmother had brought over from Ireland moons ago was out-of-control forest-fire territory.

  She turned to face him. “Like wow, pretty? Wow, hideous? Wow, sexy?”

  “Hideous?” he fairly growled, his gaze running the length of her. From bare feet to long, lean legs, to a cherry-red dress that fell just above her knees and curved upward, adhering to the shape of her spectacular body. It was sexy, but elegant. Strapless, and, Good God Almighty, the way it made her top half look. His fingers twitched and his mouth watered, and when he spoke, it sounded like som
ething was caught in his throat.

  “Honey, you look gorgeous,” he stated firmly. Hell, was he panting?

  She beamed. “Thank you.”

  “That said, you could wear a flour sack and be the hottest goddamn woman in the room.”

  “Oh, go on.” She made the accompanying gesture with her hand, then turned back to face the mirror. “I’m trying on bridesmaid’s dresses.”

  “I think you found the one.” He came up behind her, brushed her hair off her right shoulder and kissed her warm, soft skin. “Problem is, beautiful girl, you’re going to upstage the bride in this.”

  She looked at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re sweet-talking me, right? That’s what that is?”

  He wrapped his arms around her waist and grinned. “Maybe.”

  “But for what purpose, Mr. Cavanaugh? Getting me naked?”

  He shook his head slowly, his eyes pinned to hers. “Don’t you dare take that off.”

  “Well, I’m insulted,” she said, turning in his embrace and looking up at him with defiant eyes. “One night together and you no longer want to see me naked.”

  His lips twitched. “That’s probably the most insane thing I’ve heard all day.” And he’d heard some pretty insane things today. “No, darlin’. I’m taking you out. For dinner.”

  Her ruby-red lips curved up into a smile.

  He leaned in and whispered into the curve of her ear, “But just so we’re clear, I’ll always want to see you naked. And when we get back here, I’ll prove it.” His eyes flickered in the direction of the mirror. Or more specifically to the red heels on the floor beside it. “However, if you end up wearing those shoes, we may not make it home before I do.”

  She backed away from him, her eyes flashing with flirtatious heat. Then with a quick grin, she walked right up to the very shoes to which he was referring and slipped her pretty feet inside.

  • • •

  In Dallas, wearing a fancy red dress with matching heels to dinner was nothing to gape at. But in River Black, it might just make the front page of the morning newspaper.

  Seated in Marabelle’s best booth—the one without the patched seat—Sheridan glanced up and gave her date a very seductive smile. “Anything I want?”

  James’s aqua eyes flashed with amusement. “Anything.” He’d changed too. Not into a suit. Though Sheridan couldn’t help but wonder if he had one. But into a nice long-sleeved white shirt, black jeans, and black boots. He looked ridiculously sexy, and eating dinner across from him had been torture. More than a few times she’d had to stop herself from slipping off her shoe and tucking her toes into certain unmentionable areas.

  “Well,” she said, licking her lips. “What if I want two things?”

  “Hell, baby,” he exclaimed. “Have three.”

  She grinned at him, then looked up at the waitress who had been standing there for close to a minute. “I’ll just have the chocolate cake, please, Stevie.”

  The woman slipped her pencil into her bun. “I knew you two would end up back here.”

  “Can’t stay away,” James said, but his eyes were on Sheridan. “When something’s that good, you keep coming back.”

  “Good Lord,” the woman said with an exaggerated eye roll. And as she walked off, Sheridan distinctly heard her add, “Get a room already.”

  “Did you hear her?” Sheridan asked him, laughing.

  He nodded. “Yes, I did, and she has a point.”

  Sheridan laughed. “Chocolate cake to go?”

  “No way.” His eyes dropped to her mouth. “I want to watch you eat it.”

  Heat swirled in Sheridan’s belly and she slipped off her shoe. “So, you didn’t mention anything about today. How was your time with Cole?”

  It was as if a bucket of ice water had been tossed on the table, the majority of it hitting James Cavanaugh in the face. Every shred of relaxed, flirtatious, sexual man fell away, to be replaced with the calm, cool, and very controlled rider who’d found her near her broken-down car weeks ago. She didn’t understand it, but damn, it hurt her heart to see.

  “Pretty boring, actually,” he said, his gaze flickering past her.

  She studied him. “That’s a bummer. What did you do?”

  “Went for a drive.” His eyes were now on her water glass.

  “How romantic.”

  He looked up and sighed. “Sheridan—”

  The door to the restaurant burst open, cutting off their conversation, and Deacon stormed in. He looked pissed and formidable in black jeans, a gray shirt, and a black leather jacket. He spotted them quickly and had barely reached their table when he started barking at James.

  “What the hell did you do?” he demanded.

  James didn’t even flinch. He was still wearing that suit of emotional armor. “Cole talk to you?”

  “No. Grace Hunter.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Seems her daddy was paid a visit today by a couple of nephews he doesn’t have.” His eyebrow lifted. “Care to shed some light on that?”

  James’s gaze flickered in Sheridan’s direction.

  Deacon’s did too, then widened as if he’d just realized his brother had company. He grimaced. “Sorry about this, Sheridan.”

  “It’s okay.” But that was the last thing she felt. Was what going on? What had happened today?

  “You look real nice, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile.

  James drew his attention back. “I’ll meet you at the Bull’s Eye in thirty minutes.”

  This didn’t look like it set well with Deacon. Knowing him as she did, Sheridan was pretty sure he wanted James to stand up and follow him out the door. But he didn’t make a fuss. After a quick nod to the both of them, he turned and walked out.

  When James found her gaze again, she saw the weariness in his eyes. “I’m sorry to cut this short.”

  “Everything okay?” she asked. Please talk to me.

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Your romantic drive with Cole was complicated?”

  He sniffed with dark humor. “There was nothing romantic about it, Sheridan, I assure you.”

  She nodded, growing weary herself. “Okay.” She shrugged. “Maybe at some point, you’ll feel like you can talk to me. Share what’s going on in your life. The hard stuff that’s so obviously weighing on you. Because it breaks my heart that you don’t feel like you can.”

  Stevie took that exact moment to place her dessert in front of her. “Here you go, hon.”

  Her appetite gone, Sheridan barely glanced at the chocolate cake. Until she realized it wasn’t chocolate cake at all.

  “It’s Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup cake,” Stevie announced with a bit of a squeal. “Your boyfriend here ordered it special from Dallas. Trying to impress you or something. Frankly, Natalie’s apple pie from Hot Buns is way more impressive—”

  “Thanks, Stevie,” James interrupted her.

  She pursed her lips at the shutdown. “Fine. Enjoy.”

  As the seconds ticked by and Sheridan didn’t even make a move to pick up her fork, James asked, “Aren’t you going to try it?”

  The confusion that battled within her was shockingly heavy. Clearly James Cavanaugh wanted her, was attracted to her, had cake brought in from Dallas for her. He was letting her stay at his bunkhouse, but not before redecorating it to make her feel at home. He even told her how he felt about her, how she made him feel. And yet, he couldn’t tell her the truth about his life, his past. All the things that made up who he was.

  She was no expert on relationships, but she didn’t see how something could grow with sunshine, but no rain.

  “I think I’m going to take it to go,” she said finally.

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “I’m still pretty full fr
om dinner, and you need to meet Deacon.”

  “This was not how I wanted our night to go,” he said, turning to flag down Stevie for the check.

  “’Can one desire too much of a good thing?’”

  As she expected, quoting Shakespeare brought his head around, and his eyes locked with hers.

  “Oh, Sheridan,” he said, his tone pained as Stevie placed the check in front of him. “‘Tempt not a desperate man.’”

  Twenty-one

  “Bull’s-eye!” Cole exclaimed as the dart he’d just sent toward the board hit dead center. He turned and headed back to their table. “I need to get me one of those for the road.”

  Deacon ignored the comment. He was far too pissed off. “I can’t believe you two jackasses did that without me. We’re supposed to be in this together.”

  “Are we?” Cole said, pulling out a chair.

  “Fuck you,” Deacon returned flatly.

  “I’m serious.” He dropped down and grabbed his half-full beer. “It’s been a long time since we were in anything together.”

  “Maybe so,” Deacon acknowledged. “But that has nothing to do with the here and now. With Cass. With finding out the truth.”

  Up until that moment, James had just been watching the two fire blanks at each other. Yes, he wanted the truth about what had happened to Cass. But listening to Deacon bitch over dollar beers wasn’t going to get them there. Frankly, he just wanted to get back to the bunkhouse, back to Sheridan. He knew she was upset, knew all she wanted from him was the truth. About his past and what had fed these demons inside him. But every time he meant to lay it all out on the table for her, his gut yanked him back.

  “James, you got something to say about this?” Deacon asked, breaking into his thoughts.

  “Look, we weren’t trying to piss you off,” he said with a slight edge to his voice. He was still angry at his brother for interrupting his dinner with Sheridan. “We were trying to do you a favor. With the wedding a few days away, we thought it was better not to involve you in case shit went south.”