Solace (The Kingwood Series Book 4)

by S. L. Scott

  “Billy.” I shake my head and pretend I was tending to the rusted tools hanging on the wall. “Gross.”

  “Really? Are we fifteen? A man has needs, Delilah. I’m assuming a woman does too, so I’m going to go help one out with those needs tonight.”

  Jason’s laughing too hard or is smart enough to not get involved in this conversation in the first place. I start walking away, but I stop and go back. “You can’t say stuff like that in front of my sister when she comes to visit.”

  “Why not?”

  I cross my arms and roll my eyes. “Because she’s used to men with class.”

  “Annnnnd?”

  “And,” I say, then huff, frustrated he doesn’t get my drift without me spelling it out for him. “And, do you have a tie?”

  “Delilah.” Now Jason joins in.

  “What? I’m just asking if he has a tie.”

  Billy responds instead, “Yes, I do. Why are you trying to set me up with your sister?”

  “Because I like you and I love her, and I think you guys might work well together.”

  “Your sister has hated me since I was eight. I don’t think she’s going to like you trying to set us up.”

  He’s not saying no. Actually, he’s not saying he wouldn’t be interested in being set up either. Maybe he likes Shelby more than he’s letting on. “Nobody even remembers you pushing her into the mud.”

  “Except you.”

  And my sister. “Doesn’t matter,” I reply. “We’re not kids anymore. Right, Jason?”

  His hands are up and he’s backing away. “I’m not getting involved in this one.”

  Rolling my eyes, I turn back to Billy, and say, “Wear the tie over for dinner on Friday night. Okay?”

  “Am I going to church?”

  “No, but if you play your cards right—oh God, what am I saying?” I laugh at myself. “Just wear something nice—not too dressy but not straight off the farm.”

  “Some women like straight off the farm, but I have a feeling your sister is not going to like this setup one bit.”

  “What’s not to like? Four friends getting together to hang out and catch up is all good stuff.”

  “Guess we’ll find out. As for these tools, I think I can clean ’em up and sell them. You don’t use them, and Ricardo has his own.”

  “If we can make money off them, let’s sell them. Every penny counts.”

  Jason says, “Speaking of money, I wanted to talk when you have a few minutes.”

  Although I’m curious to know what he wants to talk about specifically, I don’t push for more with Billy standing here. “Okay.”

  Billy gets to work, pulling the tools out from the corner and I join Jason as he walks to his truck. I ask, “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, it’s good. I’m good. You?”

  “I’m good. Since we’re all good, I’ve been meaning to ask you about the fair again. With Red River not working out how we planned, how are you feeling about the fair?”

  He pulls the tailgate down and sits atop it. “I’m fine with it. The reality is we can’t stay holed up here forever.”

  Moving between his legs, I run my hands over his denim-clad thighs. “I don’t want to be controlled by my ex.”

  “I fucking hate that you even have an ex.” Taking me by surprise, he brings me in for a kiss.

  It’s possessive and greedy, abrupt and lustful. My body’s temperature rises as does my need for him. “How do you turn me on from one kiss?”

  “Because you know what follows.” He hops off. “You want to go upstairs?”

  Looking back at Billy, I debate briefly, but decide against it. “He works for free to help me out. I think we should wait.”

  “I’ll wait, but I can’t promise I’ll be good.”

  “I love when you’re bad.”

  “Hold on to your britches, Ms. Noelle, because I put the bad in bad boy.”

  “Bad boys are my weakness.”

  “Then I’m one lucky bastard.”

  I’m the lucky one, but I’ll let him own the title for a bit. “We should finish the chores so we can have some fun sooner rather than later.”

  “I like the way you think.”

  “I like everything about you.”

  The tips of his fingers slide inside the waistband of my cut-offs. My body responds instantly to his touch. In the heat of the day, he manages to make my body shiver from desire while goose bumps pebble my skin.

  Billy comes out of the barn, “I’m taking off.”

  I back up a few steps from Jason, who says, “Your timing really fucking sucks.”

  “Thank you would be nice. I’m leaving. You guys can roll in the hay or whatever it is you’re wanting to do. Just don’t tell me about it and don’t make me watch.”

  I close the tailgate for him. “Thanks for helping out.”

  “You’re welcome. So the fair tomorrow—”

  “We’ll be there. Want to ride together?” Jason asks.

  He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m hoping to bring whoever I meet tonight to the fair tomorrow.”

  Laughing, I say, “You’ve really thought this through.”

  “My needs come with plans. I’m not a love ’em and leave ’em kind of guy, despite what you hear around town.”

  “Noted,” I reply. “Then we’ll see you there around six?”

  “I’ll be there. I’m judging the Mutton Bustin’ race.”

  Elbowing him, I tease, “You old softie.”

  “It builds character in kids to participate in competitions like that. Guess they figure the all-time winning champion in Freeland County will make a good judge.”

  I’m just about to aww from his sweet support of kids, but then he says, “And, cowboys tend to screw up their marriages. I bet there will be a lot of hot single moms there.”

  “Ugh. I thought you were bringing a date.”

  “Date, not wife.”

  “Again. Ugh. Why’d you have to go and ruin it? I’m going inside. See you tomorrow.”

  I leave the guys laughing in my wake. I grab the iced tea container from the windowsill after noticing the deep, bright coloring from steeping in the sun all morning. Jason comes in the back door just as I finish pouring the tea over two large glasses filled with ice.

  “It’s not sweet,” I say.

  “That’s okay,” he says, coming to me. He licks up the side of my neck. “You’re sweet enough.”

  “Ahh,” I sigh. “I’m sweaty though.”

  “I know. It’s fucking sexy as hell.” His hands wander as my eyes dip closed.

  “We shouldn’t,” I whisper in all the ways that counteract my feelings.

  “We should.”

  “I have so much to do.”

  “I want to do you.” His voice is muffled as he sucks on my neck.

  Squeezing my hands between us, I push back. “Jason, stop.”

  Shock and hurt run across his face. “What?”

  “No. No. I don’t mean this. Us.” Whispering, I say, “If you leave a mark, he might see.”

  “He?” It dawns on him before I can answer. “I don’t fucking care about Cutler. It’s none of his fucking business what we do. He’s your ex, Delilah. He doesn’t have a place in our lives.”

  “I know. I just don’t want to incite him. If he sees a hickey on my neck, he’ll flip out, and who knows what he’ll do.”

  “The fuck?” By the hands clenching at his sides, the tic in his jaw, and wild eyes staring at me, he is angry. It’s not like Cole’s where I felt frightened for my life, but it’s not the Jason I recognize.

  He doesn’t understand. He wasn’t here when tiny things would set Cole off. I was. Alone.

  Jason walks out, and I see him rounding the corner of the house. It’s not like him to walk away from me. He’s never been afraid to take a conversation head-on. I run out the front door just as he approaches his truck. Stopping on the porch, I ask, “Where are you going?”

  “I need my bike.”


  “Don’t leave.”

  My words or maybe the plea in my tone stop him. With his back to me, he says, “I need to take a ride and clear my head.”

  “Jason, look at me.”

  When he looks at me, his soulful eyes reveal such pain, and I hate that I’ve caused that again. “I’m sorry I upset you. I don’t want any more trouble with him.”

  His shoulders lose tension as he comes to me. He stops on the bottom step so much like he did the first day he showed up. His respectful nature, his respect for me has been shown in many ways. Even now, he remains a few steps lower. He doesn’t try to intimidate me like Cole. Jason humbles himself before me, and it’s a genuine sign of respect I’m still getting used to.

  He communicates with me, not over me. “I’m not mad at you, Delilah. We’re not fighting. I’ve been here every day like I live here and reality just hit me. I don’t. This isn’t my farm. And as long as you’re worried about him and how he’ll react to my presence, it’s as if you’re not really my girl. This isn’t an ultimatum. I’m here for you however I can be, however you want me to be. I don’t care if I lose to him in football or in a fight or whatever. That’s all shit that’s built on ego and pride. But when it comes to you, I can’t be second to him.”

  “You’re not. You never will be. I don’t want him near you. I don’t want you hurt.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you I can handle him?”

  “He’s not the same person you used to know. You were never stuck in the glory days of your football years. He is. Two things matter to him—his ego and me. You’ve effectively taken both from him since you came back.”

  “You’re divorced. He can’t hold on to you anymore.”

  “He’s an alcoholic with a gambling problem. He didn’t want the divorce. I petitioned for it after I got a temporary restraining order. The judge granted me a quick divorce, but that restraining order was lifted the same day because the good ole boy judge admired Cole’s football record.” I lean against the post, four steps dividing me from the man I love. I hate that Jason has come home to this. To me, with this dreadful baggage. “It’s not a matter of if he’ll try to get me back or hurt me. It’s when. And I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”

  He covers the steps, staying one down, which puts him eye level with me. “I’m not afraid. He can come after me as long as he doesn’t come after you. I won’t let him come after you, Delilah. You’re my everything.”

  Taking this stunning man by the jaw, I hold him in my hands. “Were you always this foolish?”

  “Only for you, honeysuckle.” We kiss and I sigh, melting against him. “Look, if it will help ease tension, I’ll talk to him.”

  “He’s not a reasonable man.”

  He winks. “I have ways of helping him see the light.”

  “Do I want to know what that means?”

  “No, better not. It’s safer that way. In the meantime . . .” He kisses my neck. “Want to go for a ride on my Harley?”

  Now that is an offer I can’t refuse. “Absolutely.”

  22

  Jason

  The wind whips around us as we chase the sun. The road’s wide open. I could keep riding. I could steal her away from this life that’s holding her back. Would she stop me?

  Would Delilah want to keep going or turn back?

  We’re both caught in a whirlwind we can’t control, and it sucks. I know she loves me. She doesn’t have to tell me, though she does often. She shows me. I see it in her pretty blue eyes. I feel it in the way she touches me and in the way she cares for me.

  I love her.

  I cover one of her hands with mine before returning it to the handlebar. Having her on my bike, wrapped around me, was yet another fantasy I never thought would happen. Here we are though. Trust in me to care for her—to keep her safe—has been handed over without question.

  Delilah took the helmet and put it on before I had a chance to insist on it. It was as easy as her saying, “Share this piece of you with me.” An hour later, we haven’t made it far, but we’ve crossed county lines. I veered off onto a small, hidden-from-the-highway dirt road about ten minutes ago. I don’t think she’ll remember when I brought her here back in college, but it felt like a good time for a visit.

  The river comes into view, and I love the sight of the mountains with the gray and purple of twilight. We dismount and she sets the helmet on the bike before wandering toward the river. “You brought me here a few times. I always remembered it, but could never find it.”

  “Why were you looking for it?”

  Standing at the water’s edge with her back to me, she says, “I thought if I could find it again, it would lead me back to you.”

  When her head tilts down, her shoulders shake with a sob. I go to her as she covers her face with her hands. Holding her from behind, I whisper, “My heart was always with you. The beat was just silent until I returned.” I turn her around and hold her as she cries on my shoulder. “I’m not mad at you, honeysuckle.” Stroking her hair, I whisper, “And I’m not leaving.”

  She looks up, her puddled tears running down her face. “For now?”

  “I’m thinking about forever. What do you think?”

  A smile cuts through the sadness that had overtaken her face. “I’d like that.”

  “Remember how I said I wanted to talk about money?”

  “Yes, but I don’t.”

  Chuckling, I ask, “Why is money such a taboo topic?”

  “Because it brings out the worst in people.”

  That’s not the Delilah I know. She’s never been one to focus on the negatives, but after what I’ve learned regarding the human condition, she’s right. “Does it have to be that way?”

  “I don’t know anymore.”

  “I’ve saved some money, Delilah. I was thinking about our future and the farm.”

  “What? Why would you be thinking about the farm?”

  “I want to be where you are.”

  She steps out of my reach and crosses her arms. Staring out over the lake, she’s nodding her head before she speaks. “I’m not letting you spend your money on the farm if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “What if I want to?”

  “You were shot. You’ve done unimaginable things for that money.”

  “Is it too dirty for you to want to use it for a good cause?”

  She laughs. “I’m not that high and mighty, Jason. I meant, you’ve had to sacrifice so much to earn every dollar.”

  “Everyone who works makes sacrifices.”

  “Usually not with their life.”

  “I didn’t think I would, but shit happens. Things go wrong. Bad people sometimes get ahead, but they didn’t win.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “They died.” I walk to the edge of the water and squat down. Picking a weed, I rub it between my fingers before tossing it to the ground. “You have more questions, so can we just get them over and done with?”

  “Why did that note from your friend Cruise say Eric on it?”

  “Because it wasn’t from Cruise. It was from my old . . . boss, a friend. Acquaintances. I don’t know what to call them. I consider them friends and allies more than anything else.”

  “So it’s like an inside joke?”

  “It was an alias I went by at one time.”

  “Eric? Eric,” she repeats, trying out the name. “It doesn’t fit you.”

  Chuckling, I ask, “And Jason does?”

  “Yes. To me, it’s just a part of who you are. Like Cuddle Bear.” This time she laughs.

  I go to her. Taking her hand in mine, I say, “You can call me that if you like.”

  She bumps up against me playfully. “Okay, Cuddle Bear.”

  “Anything else you’re wondering about?”

  “The Oreos.”

  “Now that is an inside joke. It’s not even funny. I like Oreos, and I ate someone else’s.”

  Digging the toe of he
r shoe into the ground, she says, “Yeah, guess you had to be there.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “When you tell these stories about being shot or working on movie sets, I feel like you’ve lived a whole exciting lifetime without me. You went on adventures and saw the country. You lived a life I thought I’d be sharing with you. I worry I won’t be enough for you.”

  “You feel left out because I was shot?”

  That earns me a half smile. “Not that. You know what I mean.”

  “I do, but no matter where I traveled or who I met, nothing compares to being on that farm with you. If I could change things I would. I would come back after college for you.” We start walking along the bank. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

  “All right.”

  “I know you’re recently divorce—”

  “Oh my God. Are you going to ask me to marry you?”

  “What? No.” A hand flies to my hair, and I run it through. “Wait. I mean—” The heartbreak on her face does me in. I rush to cup her head in my hands. “Don’t cry.”

  “I’m so sorry. I thought you meant you were going to ask me.” She looks away, as if she’s too embarrassed to look at me. “Forget it. Forget I said anything.”

  An ache grows in my chest seeing the pain on this woman’s face. “If you’d say yes, I’d marry you right now.” Beautiful eyes the color of bluebirds peer up at me. She wears her heart on her sleeve for everyone to see. It’s battered like mine but filled with so much love to give. “I would.”

  “I’m a recently divorced, almost bankrupt farmer in the middle of nowhere. My spirit has been bruised along with my body. I have a lot more scars than I had when I was wearing that Freeland County tiara. I feel older than my years because of them. And here you come, riding back into town, and screwing up my plans of being a spinster the rest of my life.”

  “You know why? Because when I heard you were single again, all the plans I made suddenly seemed secondary to you. Scars don’t scare me. I have a lot of my own. As for your divorce, I say this is my lucky day. It’s as if Cupid himself had a say in the matter. I also think you’re more stunning than the day we fell in love.”