by DL Roan
Grey paused and checked his innate need for control. He released a frustrated breath and stepped up to her, settling himself between her thighs as much as her long skirt would allow. Big mistake. The feel of her wrapped around him, her intoxicating scent and worried expression, along with the sheer terror that ran through his veins at what he’d seen in that envelope had his every sense on overdrive.
“Claira, baby, we need to get you home. The Sheriff will take care of your car.”
He didn’t want to tell her about the pictures until he had her tucked safely away at the ranch. He didn’t want her to see them at all. He could feel the worry and confusion, mingled with weariness rolling off her in waves. Seeing that vile filth would only make it worse.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” he sighed.
After he’d left her sitting in the diner that morning, he’d kicked himself down the street, not having a clue where he was going, but he knew why he’d left. It was the same fucked up reason everything else in his life was a mess. Sarah.
Never once, in the twenty-four years he’d known her, not even in the three of those years they’d been married, had she overwhelmed him the way Claira had with one kiss. Everything inside him ached for Claira in a way that was completely unfair to the memory of his wife.
It wasn’t bad enough that she’d died because of him. Now it seemed his traitorous body was hell-bent to destroy the very essence of what Sarah had meant to him. How could he be more attracted to someone, need someone, love the taste and the feel of someone more than he ever had his own wife?
He’d called Mason, told him about what had happened at the restaurant and then asked him to pick him up at the cemetery. A year had passed since his last visit to Sarah’s grave. When he sat beside her headstone, he’d pleaded for answers, but none came. No answers ever came.
Grey felt himself changing inside while he glared at the words scripted across the top of the polished granite stone that stood in front of him.
Three hearts beat as one, for one. Always.
He’d always known he and his brothers would share a wife, and that person had always been Sarah. As far back as he could remember she’d always been theirs. They could never love separately. It wasn’t who they were. Was it possible for the three of them to love two different women in such different ways, together, without losing Sarah completely?
By the time Mason pulled up alongside the curb and got out of his truck, he’d just about made himself sick trying to reconcile his feelings for Claira against those he’d had for Sarah.
Mason didn’t say a word when he’d walked by him, his hands tucked into his jean pockets as he bent down and brushed a kiss over the top of Sarah’s headstone. A moment later he slapped Grey on the shoulder and nudged him toward his truck. When they were both seated in the silent cab, Grey looked over and noticed the overconfident expression on his face.
“You know how fucked up I am right now, right?”
Mason had smiled and started the truck. He paused, his hand on the gear shift, and looked over at him with those soulful eyes that always seemed to see right through him. He hoped to God he couldn’t see the truth.
“Yep,” Mason nodded and threw the truck into drive. “But I know you, Grey. You’re as stubborn as the day is long, but you’re not a coward. You’ll get it all figured out soon enough.”
Now, standing in the parking lot with a scared and frantic Claira, somewhere deep inside Grey knew things would never be the same. He had to get her home safe and keep her that way. At least until he could work through his fucked up thoughts.
“I have a lot of things I’m trying to work out in my head, Claira. I need to…I need to talk to you, about a lot of things, but I need for you to trust me. Just for a little while. Can you do that?”
She did trust him. Strange, but there it was. He was so different from Matt and Mason, yet similar, almost an exact mix of the two, with a twist of uncommon dominance and darkness added into the mix. She nodded wordlessly and turned in her seat to allow Grey to close the door.
When Grey slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door, he reached over and wrapped his long arm around her waist and drew her across the bench seat until she was snuggled up beside him. With a strained smile and a wink, he started the truck and pulled away from the school.
A throng of neighbors, a fire engine and two Sheriff’s cars filled Claira’s little yard when they pulled alongside her driveway. Claira stiffened against him as he shut off the engine and opened the driver’s door.
Their cousin Benton came rushing down the front steps, the Sheriff in tow. “Stay here,” he patted Claira’s thigh and stepped out of the truck. Claira leaned forward to watch as her landlord drove up and ran over to join them.
Ohmygodohmygodohmygod! He’d found her. It was starting all over again. She didn’t want to believe it. It was supposed to be over. How could he have gotten to her this quickly? The phone calls, the tires, and now her house was on fire?
Claira tried to think through the paralyzing fear that gripped her. Something was off. If this was Lucien, there would be no house left. Flat tires and prank calls weren’t his style. It had to be him, didn’t it? No one else knew enough about her to hate her this much. Had she run over something on the way to work? Had she been so distracted by Grey’s frustrating behavior and the prank calls that she hadn’t noticed? Could this be a coincidence? She hadn’t ironed anything. She hadn’t left the coffee pot on, because there wasn’t one to leave on. God, would this day ever end?
Grey ambled back to the truck and offered his hand to help her out, but he stopped her as she reached the edge of the seat, his arms bracketing her thighs. “Looks like my brothers crossed a wire installing the water heater.”
“Grey, I’m telling you they didn’t.”
“Not now!” Grey turned and shouted over his shoulder at his cousin Frank, the owner of her now charred, little rental.
When Frank stifled his rebuttal, Grey turned and faced Claira again. “The neighbors called it in before it got too bad, but the back half of the place is a total loss. We can salvage a few things from your room and office, but it will take weeks to clean the place up and make it livable again. Looks like you’ll be moving in with us after all.”
“I…” Ugh, Claira felt like screaming, crying, yelling, anything but the wordless nod she gave Grey.
What else could she do? She didn’t know anyone else she could stay with. There wasn’t a hotel for fifty miles and the only bed and breakfast in town was booked through the fall. She knew because she’d checked there when she’d first arrived in town.
Without a car, or any other friends, she didn’t have a choice. That was what chafed her the most. She’d come all this way to gain her freedom, and she still didn’t have any more choices than she ever had before.
Grey helped her pack the things that weren’t ruined by the fire, water or smoke and loaded both moderately stuffed bags into his truck. It was pretty sad, really. Even with the things she didn’t take, her meager possessions didn’t amount to much. She’d left it all behind before. At least she had a few things of her own this time.
Each time an involuntary protest erupted from her mouth on the way to Falcon Ridge, Grey had an easy reply and assured her she was more than welcome at their ranch. She ached to see Matt and Mason; to be with them.
When they pulled into the ranch, Mason greeted her with his disarming smile, a tight hug and a kiss on her cheek. “Hey, gorgeous. Rough day?”
She didn’t know why, but the moment Mason touched her, tears welled in her eyes and her throat burned from holding them back. Mason hugged her tighter. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, sweetheart. Let it out. I’m so sorry about your place.”
Before Claira could release the first sob, the twins came running from the house and she pushed from Mason’s embrace. “Daddy Grey!” Con screeched as he ran and jumped into Grey’s arms. “I missed you, daddy. Where were you all night?”
He reached ov
er and ruffled Car’s hair as he hugged Con in his arms. “I had some ranching business to take care of with Daddy Matt and we kind of got stuck up on the mountain. Sorry I missed tucking my two favorite boys in last night. Did you have fun with Daddy Mason?”
Both boys nodded. Claira watched the byplay between Car and Grey and wondered what sort of battle was waging between those two. Grey let Con slip from his grip and reached out for her hand. “Miss Claira had a fire at her house today. Will it be okay if she stays with us for a while until her house is fixed?”
“Oh, cool. Did you get to ride in the fire truck, Miss Claira?” Car rushed to her side. He took her hand from Grey’s and led her toward the house. “Was the fire big or was it just a little one, with lots of smoke? I want to be a fireman like our cousin, Hal. Not a policeman like our other cousin, Benton. Firemen get to do way cooler stuff.”
“No way,” Con protested behind him. “Cousin Benton gets to carry a gun and drives a fast car. That beats a big ol’ clunky fire truck any day!”
Claira glanced helplessly over her shoulder at Mason and Grey as she was escorted up the stairs by the two impish little boys.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next week passed in a blinding blur. Claira’s tires were re-inflated and her car dropped off at the ranch after the Sheriff’s men had had time to go over the damage. Seems someone had let the air out rather than slashing them. Could have been a kid playing games, but Grey didn’t think so.
After seeing the photos of Claira curled up on her bed reading a book, some others of her coming and going from school in her car, mingled with others of the mutilated heifer they found on the ridge, he knew there was a threat to contend with and it was somehow tied to them. Whoever was fucking with them had turned their attention to Claira and that was unacceptable.
They shuttled her and their boys off to school each morning and worried like hell until they arrived back home every evening, even though they knew their Uncle Cade was watching over her while she was away.
Cade was a former Fed. A spook. No one knew with certainty what his true profession was exactly, but they all knew he was the last person you’d ever want to piss off when it came to messing with their family. Was Claira family? That thought only added another layer to Grey’s confusion.
Still, even with Cade on covert protection duty, they worried. What they’d heard from Benton’s contacts was less than helpful. Nothing. They hadn’t found a single shred of data on Miss Claira Robbins. Uncle Cade had shrugged it off and said he’d call in a favor, see what he could dig up, but he didn’t sound hopeful.
In the meantime, Claira had taken to cooking breakfast and dinner and helping the boys do their homework while Grey and his brothers dealt with the everyday ranch work, as well as the mess up on the ridge. They still had a mile of fence to repair and had given up a dozen ranch hands to sit watch on the ridge for any of Grunion’s men.
With each day that passed that week, Claira seemed to nestle further into their family fold. Taking a spot at the Chutes and Ladders game they played on game night, snuggling into the single recliner with a blanket, looking cute and vulnerable while Grey tried to focus on whatever cartoon movie they’d chosen for movie night. Like they were one—big—happy—family.
His brothers hadn’t touched Claira in a week and Grey was going out of his ever-loving mind. Having her there and not actually having her, was about the worst thing he’d ever endured. Fate was a bitch. His gut clenched every time he saw Claira in the kitchen, which, to him, was still Sarah’s kitchen. Combine that with the incessant need to touch her and he was an absolute wreck. His heart, mind and body were waged in a brutal three way war with their separate needs and wants.
His parents weren’t helping matters, either. His mom had practically adopted Claira that first night they’d met in the kitchen. Claira was even talking about going Christmas shopping with her, for crying out loud. It was June! And the dads! They were like three stooges fighting over a pork chop when it came to her. Always telling embarrassing stories about him and his brothers, and winking at him every time she came into a room. What the fuck was that all about?
Holding his temper and wayward emotions in check was getting harder every day she was there, along with a very persistent body part. He needed a break. They all did.
He hadn’t hesitated when Uncle Cade recommended someone to take over rebuilding the feed barn. Although a newcomer to the area, Grey had liked the man from the onset. Now that school was out and the boys were headed to Sarah’s parents for a few weeks, he and his brothers were going to get this thing with Claira settled. Not having to finish the feed shed would give them the time. A firm handshake and two days later, he was walking the new man out to the old feed shed site when Claira and the boys came rambling out of the barn.
“Daddy, look! Bernie’s playing with her puppies! She’s going to be okay!” Grey smiled when Car reached for one of the puppies and held the squirming ball of fur out to him.
The vet had pronounced Bernie well enough to come home and Mason had picked her up on the way back from town that afternoon. “This is the one I’m keeping. His name is Snipe cause’ I caught him taking one of the other puppy’s toys away.”
“Seems like the name fits, son.” Grey chuckled as the puppy pulled at Car’s hat and squirmed in his arms. “I hope he doesn’t take a liking to your pants, or my socks.”
“Mr. Kendal, it’s nice to see you again.” Claira reached out to shake the new man’s hand.
Grey felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. How the hell did Claira know his new hired hand? He was supposed to be new in town.
“Hi, Miss Robbins. It’s nice to see you again, too. You live out this way?”
“Well, I…”
Oh, no fucking hell way! “She lives here…with me…and my brothers.” Grey said, daring Claira to contradict him. His reaction and gruff tone had shocked even him. Grey didn’t like the big green monster any more than he liked Kendal touching Claira, but damn if he could stop it from possessing him.
“I met Grant in the grocery store the day I…well, when Matt and Mason came to install the water heater. I sort of caused an avalanche in the canned vegetable aisle and he helped me clean it up.” Turning her gaze to Grant, she ignored Grey’s piercing stare. “What are you doing here, Grant?”
She’s blushing? For this wandering loser? Grey knew he wasn’t exactly being fair. He’d liked the guy no less than three minutes ago, but that was before he started flirting with his woman. His woman? Was she? Hell, yes! No. Fuck! “I hired Mr. Kendal to rebuild the feed shed. He’ll be staying in the bunkhouse with the other hands.”
Grey felt ridiculous for being jealous but somehow, throughout all his internal battles, he hadn’t imagined Claira meeting anyone else; flirting with anyone else. Not that she was flirting exactly, just...ah, hell! He was a possessive sonofabitch and he didn’t like the idea of her meeting some stranger in a supermarket. Especially with everything else that was going on. He knew he didn’t have any claim on her, but hell if he could stop himself.
Later that evening, while she was washing the dinner dishes, Matt snagged Claira’s arm and whisked her into the dark pantry just off the kitchen, closing the door behind them. Before she could protest, Matt covered her mouth in a frenzied kiss, his warm, talented tongue filling her head with all sorts of ideas while his hard body folded in around her, his swollen erection grinding against her belly.
“I can’t wait another minute. I’m going crazy not being able to touch you.” His mouth covered hers again, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth. “Kiss you.” He lifted her shirt and traced the smooth skin of her abdomen up and under her bra, pushing it out of his way. “Love you,” he panted against her neck before he lifted her shirt and stole a taste of her budded nipple, drawing out a muted moan when he nipped and pulled on the taut nub. “I love your breasts. Silky, smooth peaks that fit in my palm perfectly, mmm.” He lapped and suckled at her nipple before push
ing away the rest of her confining bra.
“Matt,” Claira sighed and slumped against him, her knees buckling beneath her.
“Daddy Matt?” Con’s small voice called from beyond their dark hiding spot, jerking Claira out of her lust induced euphoria.
Matt slumped against her, his hot breath spilling over her exposed skin as a rumble of frustration vibrated through him. He righted Claira’s clothes and nuzzled her neck, kissing his way to her ear. “Meet me in the barn after we put the boys to bed.”
Claira’s heart stuttered. Over the last few days she’d almost convinced herself she’d imagined what had happened between them before the fire. At first she’d been relieved when the brothers had given her some space. They had set up a comfortable routine.
She hadn’t felt right about not paying them for allowing her to stay in their home, and of course they refused such an outlandish offer. She’d decided that taking care of the twins and the things that needed done around their house was a fair trade as they managed the unbelievable, everyday demands of running a working ranch.
She’d had no idea how demanding ranching could be. Some days the brothers came home so exhausted they’d eaten dinner and gone straight to bed after tucking their boys into bed. Con and Car had virtually adopted her, showing her more than two six year olds should know about ranching and had adapted well to having her in their home.
She’d even managed to arrange a schedule to give Con extra attention to his studies, tutoring him as they’d planned in Grey’s office, which Grey would promptly vacate the moment they got home, not to surface again until dinner and sometimes not even then. Frustrating, confusing man. He was avoiding her. Other than the one game on game night and half a movie on movie night, she’d scarcely seen him.