Welcome To Redemption: Series Collection (Books 1-6)

by Donna Marie Rogers

  She wanted to run her hand along that forearm and up to his shoulder. Feel the muscles, let the hair on his arm tickle her fingers. When he licked chocolate off his thumb and set his napkin off to the side, she concentrated very hard on not staring at his lips.

  “Why didn’t you tell your brother about those guys?” he asked out of the blue.

  She’d just popped the last bite of her dessert into her mouth and took a moment to chew while dusting the cinnamon sugar from her hands into the grass on the side. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Charlie is a little overprotective.”

  “Oh, I noticed.” His gaze remained trained on the screaming streamers in the sky. “Good for Charlie.”

  Tara caught the quiet words and backhanded him lightly on the arm. “Bite your tongue—you haven’t lived with it for the past twenty-eight years.”

  Now he looked over. “You’d rather you didn’t have someone looking out for you?” he asked, surprise and a hint of reproach in his tone.

  It wasn’t that simple, but of course he didn’t know that. “Don’t try to make me feel bad.”

  He shrugged, and his chin dipped as he reached out to pluck a blade of grass from alongside the blanket. “All I’m saying is, I think it would be nice, knowing someone cares that much.”

  She got the sense that he spoke from being on the opposite side of the fence. She studied his profile, and when he finally glanced at her again, his half smile didn’t reach his eyes. She lifted one brow, letting him know she was listening, and he gave an uncomfortable laugh.

  “Oh, no. No true-confessions here.”

  Tara rolled her eyes with a smile, even as her heart tugged with sympathy for him. Whether he admitted it or not, there’d been definite wistfulness in his voice when he’d said it would be nice to know someone cared that much. For now, she’d let him off the hook.

  “Well, to answer your earlier question, I didn’t tell Charlie about those guys because, unfortunately, his self-control is worse than Sugar’s, and he’s gotten in trouble for it before.”

  Wes’s turn to regard her thoughtfully. “Protecting him by not letting him protect you?”

  “Umm…something like that.” She drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, then laid her cheek on her knees facing him. An overwhelming urge to explain about Annabel surfaced, but she’d end up crying and wouldn’t that be nice? Instead, she admitted, “I realize it was stupid, now—especially when Kenny pulled the knife.” She lifted her head with a sudden realization. “I never really thanked you.”

  “Please don’t make a big deal out of it.” He looked uncomfortable again.

  “What? I’m just saying thank you.” She leaned a little closer, bumping her shoulder against his, hoping he’d turn toward her and their eyes would meet again.

  “You’re welcome,” he said shortly. Then he reached for his soda and watched the sky.

  Chapter 6

  Wes was wound so tight by the time the fireworks began a crashing crescendo, he had to roll his shoulders and neck to relieve the tension. He could’ve turned his head at any time, leaned in, and kissed the mouth that’d been tempting him since the moment she’d told him a dog had fallen in love with him. The brief kiss on the sidewalk hadn’t been near enough.

  His heart picked up speed every time he thought about looking at her. Tasting her.

  He’d dated enough, mostly when he was younger though, and it was more hooking up than actual dating. Since he’d straightened his life out and focused on his future, he hadn’t had much time to do more than envision the right type of woman to fit into his very specific picture. She certainly didn’t have barbed wire and snake tattoos on her arms.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, but only saw long, flowing black hair, beautiful brown eyes and a bewitching smile. Risking a quick glance to find her enjoying the grand finale, he flicked his gaze down to her arm, then back to the explosion of light above them.

  Come to think of it, though, about the only thing that seemed wild and crazy about her were the tattoos. She didn’t drink, kept a neat house, and while she dressed sexy enough to raise his blood pressure to the boiling point, it wasn’t distasteful or trashy in any way. And he was enjoying her company tonight, especially her humor. So would it be so bad if…

  Wes sat up straighter, unable to finish that thought as he realized he was justifying his desire to kiss her. He had to stop. Single-minded determination to stick to the plan was the only reason he’d gotten where he was today. Distractions were dangerous—the bullet that’d embedded a half-inch from his spine served as a jolting reminder.

  A prolonged series of loud explosions signaled the end of the fireworks, along with a kaleidoscope of color that took over the entire sky. Families around them clapped and whistled as they stood and began packing up their belongings.

  Wes looked again at Tara, her face shadowed in the dim light now that the fireworks were over. The crowd was dissipating fast, and he knew he couldn’t sit too long with her in the dark or he’d start thinking in the wrong direction again.

  Rising to his feet, he scooped up her sweater and then held out a hand to assist her up. Her gaze rose as her palm connected with his. It took every ounce of willpower not to pull her against him when she stood. Releasing her hand, he held out her sweater for her to put it on. When he eased it up her arms onto her shoulders, his fingers brushed her soft skin, and of their own violation, gathered her silky hair to lift it free. So soft.

  He started to lean in for a stronger dose of her vanilla scent, caught himself just in time, then stepped back and bent for the blanket. After he’d folded it, he asked, “Are you going straight home, or staying for a little while?”

  “I’ve got early plans in the morning.”

  “Then I’ll walk you back,” he offered, even as he warned himself that’s all he’d better do.

  He kept his distance as much as was possible while they made their way with the crowd toward the exit, and still ended up brushing against her numerous times. His entire body hummed with awareness. He was going to have a hell of a time not kissing her if she looked at him like she had earlier.

  Her head jerked to the right all of a sudden, then she quickly faced him and put a hand on his arm, her brown eyes full of dismay. “I’m sorry.”

  Wes frowned in confusion, but she’d already turned back to wave at an older man and woman who made their way toward them. When Wes saw Tara’s look-a-like, only twenty-some years older, he knew they had to be her parents. He took in her mother’s smooth skin and youthful figure. Talk about growing old gracefully; lucky Tara.

  His gaze shifted. Her father was a little taller than Wes, a lot bulkier, and had twice as many tattoos as his son. A sudden jolt of nervousness surprised him.

  Tara had already greeted them and now Wes felt their attention zero in on him. Her mother offered a polite smile, which he returned, but once he met her father’s eyes, he understood the reason for Tara’s strange apology. Without saying a single word, the man radiated intimidation. Wes stood a little straighter as Tara looked at him.

  “Wes, this is my mom, Jackie, and my dad, Kurt. Mom, Dad, this is Wes Carter.”

  Kurt Russell extended his hand. “Carter…Tara’s never mentioned you before.”

  Wes cautiously accepted the man’s handshake. “We’ve just met.”

  “He’s visiting from Denver,” Tara said at the same time. Kurt’s grip threatened to crush Wes’s hand, and given her brother’s reaction to his tatt, he was relieved Charlie’s borrowed shirt covered his artwork for the most part.

  “What brings you to town?” Kurt asked.

  Once his hand was free, Wes dropped it to his side instead of shaking and flexing his fingers to make sure they weren’t broken. “I’m checking out the area.”

  Kurt’s eyes narrowed as they shifted to his daughter, then back to Wes. “You thinking of moving here?”

  “I’m considering relocating my business here, yes,” Wes explained, resisting the urge to look at T
ara. Actually, he’d already made the decision, but felt an instinctive need to exercise caution at this moment.

  Kurt seemed to puff up and grow another inch. “What kind of business you in, son?”

  Before Wes could answer, Tara’s mother elbowed her husband in the side. “Knock it off, Kurt.” As Kurt shifted his feet, Jackie smiled at Wes and shook his hand with a firm grip of her own. “It’s nice to meet you, Wes. Welcome to Redemption, and I hope you like it here.”

  “Thank you, I do so far.” This time he glanced at Tara without even meaning to. The moment he saw her nervous smile, he redirected his attention, but unfortunately, her father had caught the slip-up and now looked ready to deck him.

  “Are you two staying for the band?” Tara asked her parents in a rushed tone. “I saw them last week at Rowdy’s—they’re really good.”

  Her mother linked her arm with Kurt’s. “Probably. We’re meeting the rest of the gang to finalize the details of next weekend’s bike rally. Hey—were you here for the excitement earlier?”

  Tara shook her head, and her mom explained, “Lauren Frazier’s boy, Max, almost fell from the top of the Ferris wheel.”

  “Oh my God, is he okay?” Tara exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “Caleb Hunter—you remember Rosalee’s son?—he climbed up and caught him until they could get the fire truck over there. Saved his life.”

  “Wow, thank God. I’ll have to call Lauren. I thought he looked familiar earlier, but didn’t make the connection—it was so long ago that he left town,” Tara said.

  “I always liked Rosalee’s son,” her father stated. “He served in the military.”

  Wes’ gaze shifted to meet Kurt’s stone-cold challenging eyes. The man’s message was clear—Wes wasn’t good enough for his daughter.

  Tara tugged Wes’s arm as she began to back away. “Well, you kids have fun,” she joked, though her voice was anxious. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Jackie nodded, Kurt glared, and Wes barely had time to say, “Nice to meet you,” before Tara dragged him off the fair grounds. He felt daggers plunging between his shoulder blades and fought a strong urge to hunch and duck. As it was, he kept his chin level, resisted looking back, and decided he’d be pressing his luck on more than one level if he let Tara keep touching him.

  Gently pulling free of her iron grip, he admonished, “Ease up, there, Sugar.”

  Her step slowed, and Wes drew alongside instead of being pulled one step behind. He bent forward to see her face as they walked, but she stared straight ahead instead of smiling at his dog joke. He tried again, making sure to inject more humor in his voice as he asked, “Sooo…if Charlie’s overprotective, what does that make your dad?”

  “A prison guard,” she shot back. “Maximum security.” Then he heard her heave a sigh now that the noise of the fair were behind them. “Sorry.”

  “You are a chronic apologizer,” Wes said.

  She smiled briefly. “I know, I can’t help it…but I’m sorry he was such a—”

  “There you go again.” He shook his head. “It’s okay, you know. It’s kinda his job.”

  He took two steps before he realized she’d stopped and now stood glaring at him. “His job to do what—treat me like one of the inmates where he works?”

  “You mean prison guard wasn’t just an analogy?”

  She started walking again, faster than before. “No, he really is a prison guard—at work and at home. So it may be easy for you to look at it and think it’s nice or sweet or whatever the heck you think it is, but try living it.”

  Wes’s brows rose. Whoa, someone had a short fuse on this subject. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, wondering why he’d defended her father when he’d been on the receiving end of the interrogation. After a quick glance around, Wes extended his stride to catch up to her.

  “He’d like to believe I’m still a virgin,” she continued. “My God, I’m twenty-eight years old, and I have every right to my own life without him or Charlie butting their noses in where they’re not wanted! If I was smart I would’ve moved out of state instead of just down the block…idiot.”

  Wes hunched his shoulders and spoke without giving himself a chance to rationalize why it would be smarter to shut up. “My father was shot before I was old enough to have any memories of him, and my mom was too busy working to have time to care about what I did, or who I did it with.”

  He felt her gaze on him and glanced over as they turned onto her block. Lifting a shoulder to shrug off the shocked sympathy in her expression, he added, “All I’m saying is, the grass isn’t always greener.”

  She averted her head and walked in silence. Wes followed, replaying the conversation in his head. By the second time, he realized what a preachy jerk he sounded like. Man, had things ever changed. Never mind that he’d just met this woman tonight, but he had no business dumping his lousy childhood on her and in effect chastising her for venting frustration that she had every right to feel.

  She was right, he hadn’t lived it and couldn’t possibly compare it to his own experiences as if his were so much worse that she should quit whining. Maybe her bold spirit did feel imprisoned by the protection her family obviously forced upon her.

  They neared her porch, and as she dug her keys from her pocket, Wes caught her arm to turn her around. He quickly let go and shoved his hands in his front pockets because that one touch made him want so much more.

  “I guess it’s my turn to apologize…I shouldn’t have said that, and I’m sorry.”

  Her keys jangled in her hand but she avoided his gaze. “Actually, you’re right.”

  “No, I was wrong to suggest that your feelings aren’t valid—you have every right to them and I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  A smile lifted the corner of her lips, and now she gave him a quizzical look.

  “What?” he asked, wary of her expression as she looked at him as if trying to see inside him. He felt exposed, more naked than when he’d stood here two hours ago in only his boxers.

  “Seriously…who are you?” she asked. He frowned, but she continued before he could figure out the question. “Men don’t talk like that—at least not the men I know.”

  He still didn’t get it. “I only meant it wasn’t fair of me to act as if my life was so much worse than yours, therefore implying you have nothing to complain about.”

  Her smile widened. “See, that’s what I mean.”

  “What?” he asked with exasperation. “A guy can’t apologize?”

  “Of course you can, but the fact that you even feel a need to is what’s so impressive. I know for a fact it takes years of therapy for some men to recognize women have feelings that they don’t consider hormonal or irrational, yet you’re worried about invalidating mine.”

  “Oh, God,” he groaned. “Just forget it.”

  “Hold on…so, now you’re taking it back?” She crossed her arms over her chest, but a hint of a smile played with the corners of her mouth.

  Wes had a feeling there was no arguing with her. He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh, reigning in his own smile. “No, I’m not—but this conversation is officially over.”

  “Ha!” She pointed a finger at him. “I knew you were a nice guy.”

  He drew a deep breath. He worked at being the nice guy, but her saying it made him uncomfortable because he knew too many things he had to make up for yet. “I’m not that nice.”

  “Sure you are.” Her words were casual, but she said them with such conviction that his chest tightened, and his heart pounded faster.

  He shook his head, avoiding her eyes. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Tara—a lot you don’t want to know about—”

  He about choked on his words when she stepped right into his personal space and laid her hands on his chest. “I know all I need to know right now.”

  He couldn’t breathe. Then, God help him, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his as he sucked in a breath. Her lips were soft an
d warm, her body so close that the vanilla scent he’d caught a whiff of earlier now invaded his senses. His hands clenched in his pockets as desire rocked him to the core.

  It took everything he had to grasp her shoulders to push her away, and even then, he waited an extra second…one more…then pushed.

  Her eyes opened as he held her at arm’s length, and his grip tightened with the effort it took not to pull her back against him and kiss the living daylights out of her.

  “I can’t do this.” His voice was so low that he had to clear his throat.

  “Why not?”

  “Because, I…” There was a reason, a good reason, but staring into her confused eyes, he couldn’t remember it right now. He shook his head as he frowned. “I’m just not…”

  She swallowed, dropped her gaze and stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

  Wes closed his eyes against the mortification in her expression and raked a hand through his hair. He fisted his hand until pain radiated through his scalp, then dropped his arm to his side with a rough half- growl.

  “It’s not you, you’re very—” beautiful, and sexy, and God—he wanted her “—nice. And I had fun tonight, but…”

  She held up a hand, looking even more miserable, and he felt like a jerk. “You can stop right there,” she said. “Let’s just leave it at that. Goodnight, Westin.”

  She turned her back to him as she stepped onto the porch. He took a breath, but didn’t know what to say when she’d used his full name so formally. Backing away slowly, he waited until she unlocked and opened the door before turning onto the sidewalk.

  “Are you staying at the Bonnie Blue, or the Ryker’s Inn?”

  Her question stopped him cold. The tempting fantasy of Tara Russell showing up at his hotel room revved up his pulse all over again. Get a grip, Carter. Turning around, he asked, “Why?”

  He cringed at the suspicion in his tone, especially when he saw her stiffen.

  “I assume you want your suit back?”