by Susan Arden
Drawing out her cell, she dialed Dad’s number. “Hello Sommer,” he said in that joyful tone whenever she called. “How’s my little girl?”
“Daddy…” She fought the dip in her voice and coughed. “Dad, I’m outside.”
Silence. Then she noticed the sheer curtains in the front windows move. “Well, honey. Come on inside.”
“I’d rather you came outside. Please, it won’t take that long.”
“Sommer, are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” She gripped the phone, the stinging in her eyes threatening to turn into a stream of tears. If she started to cry, she doubted she’d stop anytime soon.
“Coming right out. Sit tight.” The front door opened and her father stepped out on the porch. Gloria was behind him, but remained in the doorway.
Her gaze connected with Dad’s. His glasses were taped and one of his eyes blackened—her chest squeezed so hard she couldn’t draw a breath. She shifted her focus to Gloria. Her stepmom gave a short wave before retreating back inside. Sommer opened her car door and climbed out, waiting and wearing a smile that felt more like a grimace, straining her cheeks. As her father neared, it was if her feet refused to stay still, and she skittered to the sidewalk.
“Daddy,” she said in a choked voice, opening her arms wide, and not caring about all the things she’d promised herself about holding it together on the ride over.
“Sommer, my gosh,” he said as they hugged. The familiar scent of his spicy cologne filled her nostrils as tears welled in her eyes. He patted her back and laughed. “I can’t say you’ve grown, but you sure do look all grown up.”
When they stepped back, she searched his face. Besides the purple bruise, a few scrapes, and his broken frames, she noticed the furrowed lines on his forehead had deepened, and his eyes were bloodshot. That black eye had to be at least a couple of days old.
“Dad, what happened?” She refused to ignore his condition and her pulse raced.
“Slipped on wet tile in the kitchen,” he replied without hesitation. “You’re old dad isn’t as light on his feet as he once was.”
Oh god! She didn’t know if what he said was some freaking coincidence or a bald-faced lie meant to shield her from the truth.
“How are you?” she asked, not sure how to start. “I went by your office, but it was closed. New hours?”
He waved his hand. “The economy has hit us hard. People don’t need an insurance agent when they can buy whatever they need online. But is that why you came, to talk about business?”
“Dad, actually it is.”
Her father’s eyes widened. “Oh Sommer, if you need a loan—”
“That’s not why I came. A man stopped by the tattoo parlor and said you owed him money.”
Her dad reached out and took hold of her arm. “I’m taking care of that. Please, don’t mention this to Gloria.”
“Never. But the man said the money needs to be repaid.”
“Jesus. How did things get away from me?” he muttered. “Don’t talk to them. Sommer, it’s all a misunderstanding and I will deal with them.”
“How?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’ll have to figure something out.”
“Can’t you get a loan from a bank?”
Dad laughed. Short and gravelly. “No bank will loan me money. We owe too much. I was getting behind and made a stupid mistake and tried to find a way out. Impossible to dig out of a hole with more dirt falling inward.”
“What will you do?” Sommer wrapped her arms around her middle and shuddered at the mention of a hole and dirt.
“That’s for me to figure out.” He patted her shoulder. “Not your concern. How’s your mom?”
“Better. She’s finally going out.” She brushed away a strand of her hair from her face.
“I never stopped loving her. You do realize that, don’t you? I just couldn’t deal with running a business and her needs. I hope you know that, Sommer.”
Why did he say that? It didn’t make anything easier. If anything it made her upset. He bailed even though he loved a woman. Is that what two people did when times got tough? “Dad, just please don’t reach out to any more bookies. They’re going to ruin your life. My life. Everyone’s life we know.”
“Sommer, these people are serious, but I can deal with them,” Dad shot back, then he stopped, his face grew even more ashen than before as Gloria came back out on the porch and waved. She pointed to her wristwatch and Dad nodded.
It was like the sand in an hourglass had evaporated into thin air. Nothing was solved “You’ve got to go,” Sommer said in strangled monotone.
Sighing, he curled an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. Her father kissed her head and when Gloria disappeared inside, he whispered, “Don’t repeat any of this to Gloria. She’d pack her bags and be gone like the wind.”
Heat exploded between her shoulder blades. “I already said I wouldn’t. How can you even suggest that after I called you out here to talk, alone?”
“I didn’t mean you would on purpose. But if pushed. Next time leave a message at my office, instead of coming here.”
“Why?”
He stared at her, unblinking, and the hairs on the back of her neck rose up. “Gloria doesn’t do very well with finances. Doesn’t understand the repercussions,” he said, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
Chapter 21
Holding the level to the kitchen wall inside his trailer, Rory marked the spot for the shelf. He lowered the level and grabbed the drill, screwing in a bracket.
“That ought to do it.” Stephen flipped the breaker and the lights in the kitchen came on along with those down the hall. “You on auto pilot in there? You got lights, dude.” His brother poked his shoulder.
Rory placed the drill on the counter, and sighed, “Thanks. “I’ll give Bran and Matt the thumbs up.”
Great. Caught again in fantasyland. He’d been lost in his thoughts about Sommer and getting this place fit to live. Over the last three days, he’d heard from his brothers, father, and uncles about his lack of concentration on Evermore concerns as he poured his time and energy into his new home.
He walked outside the trailer and whistled toward his other brothers out near the road. Matt nodded and called up to Brandon. His brother replaced the metal panel on the work box, and began climbing down from the power pole.
“So much for waiting for the electric company to turn your power on.” Miller came from down the hall with a caulk gun. “Water’s running as well. Those lines are temporary until the builder buries them, but for now, you’re in business.”
All his brothers were there to help. So far, he’d gotten his utilities hooked up without a hitch making the trailer habitable on short notice. Rory plugged in the refrigerator, enjoying the burst of cold air jetting across his sweat-drenched skin.
“Now for the air conditioning.” He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm.
“That unit will take all of us to move. Then you’re home free.” Stephen handed him the screwdriver that he’d used. His brother went over to the bag on the counter and lifted out a six-pack. “For later. Catch.”
Tucking the screwdriver in his back pocket, he raised his hand and caught one of the beers Stephen lobbed, and set it inside the fridge. The weight of trying to get this place set up was starting to lighten. Over his shoulder, he shot back, “Let’s do it. I don’t need this place to be a sauna when Sommer comes over.”
“Don’t think it matters. That girl has been to places where there’s no AC or running water, if memory serves me correct.” Stephen tossed Rory the remaining cans, one by one then picked up a pair of leather gloves.
Matt came through the front door, chuckling. “Sommer’s coming over tonight? Hell, I bet Rory will get the HVAC unit moved all by himself.”
“What are you gonna do about furniture?” Miller asked, then added, “Not that you need any immediately.”
/> “Got a bed on order.” Rory arched a brow. “The rest I’ll get soon enough.”
“Brother, of course you do. You’re a McLemore.” Matt clapped him on the back with a loud thud, and Rory bit back a retort, exchanging a sharp glance with Stephen.
They all walked outside and he whistled over to Brandon stowing the aluminum ladder in the back of his truck. He rounded the back of his own truck and dropped the tailgate. Both he and Matt climbed up and on opposite sides of the HVAC unit that sat on a bulky wooden pallet.
“On three,” Rory grunted, wedging his boot into the corner of the truck bed.
Miller, Brandon and Stephen pulled, holding onto the bottom of the air conditioning unit while he and Matt hoisted it up and forward. Amidst grunting and a few curse words, they hoisted the HVAC unit and walked it over to the side of the trailer.
“I’ll have this connected before you can say ‘hit the road.’ Not that you’d want us to.” Stephen winked, taking hold of the grey electrical cord and removed a pair of needle-nosed pliers, stripping the electrical lines down to bare copper wire.
“We’ll be by tomorrow and pour a cement pad for the HVAC unit. Any ideas about when you might begin building?” Brandon asked.
“Soon.” He wasn’t willing to delve into the details of why he’d rushed to get the trailer set up and still didn’t have a proper fiancée. If Sommer didn’t commit, he’d have to make the decisions on where to build and the type of house. Alone. He needed to settle his future, aside from the house. He couldn’t go on in this state of wanting a woman so bad that he couldn’t eat, sleep, or stop thinking about her.
“At the rate you’re moving, you’ll have a house by Christmas.” Brandon went to the electrical box on the side of the trailer and began unscrewing the bolts as Stephen readied the connection. Matt and Miller joined them, seeming to wait on his reply.
“Actually, hoping by Halloween. Definitely before Thanksgiving,” he said, foreseeing his immediate future. His projection meant he’d be hoofing it for the next three months. “But I’m not expecting the rest of you to stop what you’re doing and help.”
Everyone had stopped momentarily, and were all staring at him.
“Bullshit,” Matt replied. “We do things collectively around here. All you have to do is figure out what you want. The builder will do the majority, but we can handle the odds and ends. Didn’t we do that already, times four? Now, it’s your turn, little bro.”
Miller turned to him. “I’m in. Not even a consideration, but what’s the rush? Are you and Sommer expecting?”
Lifting off the HVAC unit, Stephen blew out a loud breath, but said nothing. Tossing up the pair of pliers into the air, his brother caught and pocketed them. The day after the barbecue, Stephen had asked him about the exchange that went down with Jen and Mike. In one sentence, he’d supplied his brother with the information that he and Sommer hadn’t done anything, and were getting ribbed. In line with Stephen’s customary reaction, he’d stared back silently and nodded. When his brother had finally responded, it was with, “You ever need help in hammering the cocksucker, say the word. I’ll make sure that asshole understands when a McLemore says to back the fuck off, we’re dead serious.”
He and Stephen hadn’t talked further on the matter.
Since that night and now with the sun beating down, Rory kept his focus entirely on one extreme mission: getting his place up and running. “The only thing we’re expecting is a place that isn’t a hundred degrees in the shade.”
Miller nodded. “I hear you. C’mon. these AC supply lines aren’t going to get connected by themselves.”
“Anything you want to discuss?” Brandon asked as they picked up supply lines. “Besides power and water. This is your first place.”
“Next week. Just want to kick back tonight with Sommer and relax,” he retorted and picked up one package of flex tubing. “I’ll take the front.”
“Then, I’ll get the back.” Matt tossed his hat on the compressor.
“That leaves the middle for me.” Miller followed suit, tossing his hat onto the tailgate of the truck. Whistling, he grabbed a coil of flex tubing and tore off the plastic wrap. “We’ll have your AC up and running ‘fore you can shout, ‘Hot Damn!’”
After fitting all the supply lines to the vent boots under the trailer, Rory and his brothers shared a beer in his kitchen. When they split, he returned to his truck and brought in the bags his mom and Miss Louisa had packed, insisting he take them. He made a couple of trips out to his truck, bringing in the things those two had sworn he’d need. Of course they were right. From a roll of paper towels to light bulbs, his mom had loaded him down with an assortment of things. Like a fool, he’d tried to argue.
He’d planned on paper plates and plastic cups, but now he had towels in the bathroom and even a bottle of dish soap on the counter, and he suspected his mother was out right now, shopping for more of the ‘basics.’ That’s what he’d witnessed before with his brothers. Guess Matt was right. It was his turn, and why argue? This tradition that might spur town gossip, but wouldn’t trash a reputation.
Inside his kitchen, he stowed a can of coffee, the last of his bounty. Finally the soft rapping knock he’d been waiting for sounded at the door. He closed the cabinet, taking wide-spaced steps across the small living room, and had to remind himself to refrain from blasting open his front door. He stopped at the doorway as his chest cracked open at the sight of catlike amber eyes peering up at him. “Baby, you look good enough to eat,” he growled.
Sommer held up a bottle of champagne. “Hope you’re gonna be over the moon happy here. Gosh darn, Rory.” She smiled. “You really go the distance.”
“Not just me. My brothers are a force to reckon with.” He stepped outside and scooped her up into his arms. “Come on inside.”
She gasped. “I tried to call, but your phone rang and rang before going to voicemail.”
“Left it back in the ranch office. It’s been nonstop since quitting time today. But in a couple of hours, things got set up. Electricity, water.” He paused as he came through the door and pulled it shut. “And air-conditioning. Plus a blanket for a floor picnic.” They walked by the quilt to the kitchen.
“I can’t believe it,” Sommer squealed.
“Believe,” he replied, then added, “And thanks to you, a bottle of champagne.”
“Another is out in my car for us to enjoy along with our picnic basket. This one is to christen your new home.”
“This one is just temporary,” he said, setting her down by the sink. “Unlike us.”
She placed the bottle on the counter and then faced him again, her brows drawn tight. “Rory,” she said, her voice hoarse. “We’re making progress. But what if you found out something about me. Something terrible?”
“Don’t start that.” He placed his hands on either side of her, bracing his palms on the counter. “Did you rob a bank on your way over?”
“What if I had?” Her eyes shot off sparks and made his cock hard.
Whenever she took that tone of wanting him to come a step closer, he’d always held back fully understanding the force of their love and how much he wanted her. Sommer with her golden, gorgeous looks, and tonight with her hair down, wearing a short red dress that dipped low in the front…she was a wild whisper swimming in his blood. One he couldn’t ignore and no longer had the power to withstand.
“Then hell, girl. I’d hide you and never let you go. Build a fort and keep you safe. I’d be the key.” He trailed his finger over her chest and growled low, “You the lock.”
“Babe…” She bit her lush lip for a beat, until she moved, shaking her head and making her long mane of hair fly upward, caressing his arms. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He raised his hands, feathering his fingers on either side of her face, looking down and locking his gaze with hers. Pressing his hips forward, he moved against her. This was a piss poor idea if he was trying to halt from
going all shades of crazy with Sommer. “I need to shower,” he murmured against her mouth. “And you’re too beautiful to get wet. Looks like you got cleaned up before you came over.”
“I did, cowboy. Just for you.” She wriggled her tight little body against him. “Go get yourself cleaned up and I’ll get our picnic ready.”
“Be right back.” He didn’t want to back away from her, and wondered if he should tell her he’d broken down and bought a box of condoms.
She had him at the point of out of his mind. If he broke his word, he wasn’t about to get her pregnant. If she didn’t want to get married, and had his baby. He’d lose it not being able to have her—them—next to him. His hunger was a ticking time bomb after that night in the hotel when he’d come so close to thrusting into Sommer. His ego wasn’t that huge. He all too well saw the writing on the friggin’ wall. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to resist her. And now he had his own place. She was right. He was wrong.
Had nothing to do with anyone except Sommer. For nearly five years, he’d desired her. Jacked off with her in mind. Had said her name as he came so many times, it was ridiculous. And right now, they had to figure out where they were headed. He was losing his train of thought. His temper was ready to flare. And his cock hardened, and literally hurt whenever she came into view.
He bent over and sucked on her bottom lip, before releasing her. “Make yourself at home,” he said, finally backing away. “Soon, I want this to be your home. Out here with me.”
“I wish that. So much, that this is our future. Yours and mine. No one else.”
God, in a second he saw that she was as close to the edge as he was. He almost couldn’t leave her standing there, looking like she was so fragile, she’d break—splinter into a million pieces. What the hell was his word worth anyway, if he couldn’t see that his pigheadedness was causing them buckets of pain? More pain, instead of less. That’s not how people with a lick of sense handled a world filled with chaos. He’d assumed he knew what was best for him and Sommer, even after having a discussion with Brandon about the virtues of assuming things, like leadership. He’d assumed all right. Only problem was, he’d presumed to be the only leader, and had effectively circled around to being nothing more than an egotistical jackass.