by T. J. Kline
She pursed her pouty lips and rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s good to see you again, too, big brother.” She flipped her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, making her way to the window, pulling back the curtain and looking outside. “This is a nice place. No wonder you stayed here so long before.” She looked back at him, still standing by the bed. “That woman downstairs is pretty. Is that the one you told me about?”
Clay sighed again, refusing to answer his sister. “How much do you need this time?” She shrugged a too-slim shoulder, and he wondered how much she’d actually been eating. “Candie, are you on the run again?”
“No.” She answered too quickly and wouldn’t meet his eye. It was a sure sign she was in trouble. “I mean, I owe a few people a little money, and I did stiff the guy who supposedly fixed my car but—”
“Damn it!” Clay spun around and ran a hand through his hair. His sister didn’t ever owe a little money to anyone. She was a con artist, and one of these days it was going to get her killed. “Who, how much, and what for this time? Do they know where you are?”
“Apparently, this guy is claiming that I owe him nearly two Gs for some stuff I sold for him. I know I gave it all to him, but he’s not exactly the reasonable type, if you know what I mean.”
“Drugs?”
“No.” She let the curtain drop and faced him, not bothering to elaborate on her answer. “Then there’s the guy in Idaho from the bar. He didn’t like a girl beating him at pool.”
“You mean hustling him?”
She shrugged again. “Tomato, tomahto. So, are you going to loan me the money?”
“Why, so you can get high again or blow it gambling?”
She threw her shoulders back and stomped toward him, stabbing her finger at his chest. “For your information, I’ve been clean for two years.” Clay arched a brow in disbelief. “After we found Bobby, I went off the deep end, but when Mom died . . . ” She shook her head as if clearing away the painful memories. “I haven’t touched anything since. After what happened to Bobby, I just . . . ”
Her words trailed off. Clay knew Candie didn’t like to talk about their brother. His half-brother. His mother had never realized the difference between love and lust and, as a result, often found herself on the disappointing end of the latter. When she’d finally learned her lesson, three kids later, she’d been forced to eke out a living in a dumpy apartment at the edge of a foothill town known for its rough crowd.
Still, she’d encouraged Clay to get as far away as possible, leaving behind the shady things he’d done as a teen to make ends meet for them. She’d claimed it was one less mouth to try to feed, but he knew better. She saw his desire to escape and loved him enough to push him to take it. At least until they’d found Bobby in a ditch from what appeared to be an overdose. That’s when she gave in and called him, begging him to come back. Clay promised his mother he wouldn’t let his youngest sister follow the same path.
However, old habits were hard to break, and so far, trying to help Candie was proving to be a slow Two-Step with danger. After their mother had finally lost her struggle with cancer, he had checked Candie into a rehab facility, making sure she was settled in before taking a job with Smith Brothers. It was the only thing he could do that would pay the bills for her treatment. He sent the money directly to the facility, making a conscious effort to stay in contact with Candie without connecting himself to the trouble that seemed to dog her steps. He looked at his sister. Candie had been clean, sober, and out of rehab for nearly two years. Until last week, she’d kept herself mostly out of harm’s way, only hustling once in a while to make up the difference when waitressing tips slowed down. It had been a long time since Candie had caused any trouble or needed anything from him, and it had been nearly six months since he’d heard from her. Deep down, he’d hoped things were on an upswing. Otherwise, he’d never have agreed to haze for his buddies at the rodeo. He’d suspected there was a good chance he’d run into Jen. But, even knowing that she most likely hated him, the thought of not seeing her was just too much, so he’d taken the chance.
Now, just as he was trying to pave the way for a reconciliation with Jen, Candie’s troubles were going to ruin any chance he had. Not to mention, get someone hurt.
“You need to go. I’ll give you some money to pay these guys off, and you’d better pay them, but you need to leave.” He grasped her elbow roughly, moving her toward the door.
“What’s the big rush? Jennifer said I could stay for dinner.”
“You are not staying and putting her in danger, Candie. She doesn’t know about you or our past, and she’s not going to.”
JENNIFER HEARD FOOTSTEPS in the barn as she set the saddle onto the metal rack. Scott and Derek were in the house cleaning up before dinner, and she doubted Mike would be out here. She inhaled deeply through her nose, the dust making her want to sneeze.
Please don’t let it be Clay. I can’t do this right now.
She’d made sure she was scarce when he arrived at the house but knew Silvie had alerted him to Candie’s presence. The woman upstairs had barely made it to the bed before she collapsed from exhaustion. Silvie wanted to feed her, but the bed had taken priority. Jennifer hadn’t wanted to disturb her, so she’d headed outside to finish chores. She hadn’t thought Clay would come out here when there was a woman just inside the house who had driven days searching for him.
She came out of the tack room with a bucket of brushes in one hand and fly spray in the other. She couldn’t help the shiver of anticipation that traveled up her spine and settled over her shoulders like a warm sweater when Clay turned his gaze on her.
“I was hoping to find you out here.”
Jennifer stared at him, silently, not sure whether she wanted to move toward him or run away. It didn’t really matter, since she couldn’t seem to get her feet moving anyway. His eyes seemed to glow from within, but she didn’t want to name the emotion she could easily read on his face. Her brain finally connected the synapses to get her legs to react, and she took a step backward.
Where are you going?
She didn’t know and she didn’t care. Right now, all she wanted was to not be caught by the longing in his eyes that warned her he was about to kiss her again.
“Jen, don’t. Don’t run away from me.” She heard the pleading note in his voice, but instead of feeling sympathetic, something in her snapped.
“I’m not the one who runs, Clay. That’s you.”
She was grateful for the horse tied in the aisle and ducked behind the mare, putting more distance between them. She set the bucket on the ground and reached for a curry comb, rubbing the animal down. “I don’t have anything to run from. You’re the one with one woman waiting in the house for you while you chase me down in the barn.” She hoped he could see the fury in her eyes, the pent-up anger at his betrayal that was flooding her body.
He moved around the back of the horse, as quick as a rattlesnake strike, and grabbed her hand, turning her to face him. “I left because I had to. I wasn’t running.”
“Bullshit!”
She didn’t want to hear his excuses or his lies. The venom that had been festering in her for the last five years poured into her blood, seeping from the wound that had never healed in her heart. She threw the comb into the bucket and shoved him away from her. The movement did little to give her the space she needed to move away, and Clay grasped her other wrist, holding her immobile. She thrashed against him, her hands slipping away from his, fists pounding against his chest and shoulders until he wound his fingers through hers, holding her hands trapped behind her. Clay pulled her against the wall of his chest. Her breath came in short pants. Tears she hadn’t realized were falling wet her lips as he held her hostage. She gritted her teeth together, trying not to notice the heat emanating from his body, scorching hers. Regret for the past replaced the anger; need made way for a new kind of agony. She didn’t want to feel his thumbs loosen their hold and begin tracing circles against her palm
s, which were still held behind her back. She didn’t want to see the way his eyes had turned dark and hot, pained, and tortured—the same way she felt inside.
“Let me go.” Her voice was barely a whisper of sound, an entreaty on a shuddered breath.
“Jen . . . God, what have I done to us? This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.”
Her forehead pressed against his chest, her chin tucked down, all fight gone. She was too tired to battle both him and her heart. It was taking every ounce of her strength not to touch her lips to the skin exposed at the neckline of his T-shirt. The scent of him haunted her, making her remember the afternoons by the lake, the nights in one another’s arms. She felt his body tense against hers, his belt buckle pressed against her stomach as he walked her backward toward the stall door, her hands still trapped behind her.
She could almost read the thoughts going through his mind. He would let her go but wanted her hands pinned behind her in case she decided to lash out again. How could he not realize that she just wanted to run her hands through his hair and draw his mouth to hers? Couldn’t he feel the change in her body, the way she felt it in his?
“I’m so sorry.” Clay’s forehead fell forward, laying his head against her shoulder, his face turned toward her neck. His breath was hot on her skin, heating her already molten core, making her shiver. “I should have never left you.”
His lips brushed against her collarbone as he spoke, and she felt his tears burning against her skin. “It’s not what you think. I swear. I’m sorry, Jen. It was never because I didn’t love you.”
Why was she fighting the feelings she could never hold back? This was Clay. She’d loved him since the first moment she saw him across their corral. She slid her hands from his grasp and curled her fingers into his hair, needing to touch him, offering comfort and forgiveness in her touch. Her arms circled his massive shoulders, her hands playing over the muscles as she stroked him, trying to soothe the raw anguish she could hear in his words and could feel vibrating in his body.
She still didn’t know who the woman in the house was, but she knew she couldn’t be Clay’s wife or girlfriend. He might be a lot of things, but a cheater wasn’t one of them. While the cynic in her reminded her not to trust him, her heart beat out a different order: just love him.
He must have finally noticed the change in her because he fell to his knees, his face against her stomach with his arms wrapped around her waist. Jen couldn’t still the yearning that pulsed through her veins. She longed for what they had, what she’d thought they had, so long ago. Five years was a long time to live with the sting of rejection and abandonment, to erect a wall around her heart to protect herself, and she was sure she’d made it strong enough to withstand anything. Clay’s confession, the defeat in his body language, broke through it with the force of a jackhammer, leaving the entire thing in ruins. When he looked up, her hands cupped his face of their own accord, needing to touch him. “Clay,” she whispered.
She had no idea what she was about to say but didn’t get the chance as he stood and covered her mouth with his own. His lips were gentle, tender, brushing hers as if he were afraid she would disappear. It was a first kiss all over again, filled with hope and longing. It made her heart ache, and her tears fell as it dredged up memories of regret and loss.
She curved her hands around his neck. Now wasn’t the time for sweet memories. Later she would allow herself to feel the remorse, the sorrow for what they’d lost. Right now she wanted all of him. She swept her tongue into his mouth and he groaned, his chest rumbling against her. Clay’s touch grew desperate as his hands ran up the sides of her ribcage, lifting her shirt from the waistband of her jeans. She clutched at him, knowing if she let him go now, this moment would never return.
Clay’s hands—sweet heaven, those calloused hands that drove her mad—slid under her shirt and over her back. She arched against him, the need a physical pain with only one cure. She could feel his erection through his clothing as his arm circled her, holding her flush against him. Every inch of him embraced her, as if she were a missing part of him. His mouth found her throat, and she dropped her head back against the wall, allowing him to take whatever he wanted as long as he wouldn’t stop.
“Please,” she whispered.
She wasn’t even sure what she was begging for but prayed he would figure it out, and quickly. She felt him smile against the flesh of her neck as his hand moved from her back to cup her breast. Brushing aside the thin cotton of her bra, his thumb brushed over the hard peak and she melted, her knees giving way. She would have fallen had he not held her with his own body, pinning her against the wall.
Chapter Seven
CLAY KNEW HE had to stop this. Seeing the anguish in her eyes, the anger fueled by the pain of the past had brought him to his knees. He loved this woman, had always loved her, but leaving had hurt her. And he was about to do it again.
He couldn’t stay; Candie’s presence was proof of that. If she could track him down here, then her shady creditors could, too, and that was too dangerous. If he didn’t stop this now, Jen would hate him even more when he left.
Would that be a bad thing?
Even he had to admit, despising him would make it easier on her when he left. She would be justified in her anger, and her brothers would probably kick his ass before he got down the driveway this time. But in the long run, it would be safer for them all if he took Candie and went as far away as they could.
Right now, his body was rebelling. Every part of him wanted to feel her against him, to have her wrapped around him, enveloping him, holding him. He wanted to bury himself into her, to hear her cry out his name with pleasure instead of spitting it out with hate. As much as he wanted her—and his body throbbed with need—Clay knew he couldn’t make love to her and then walk away again, leaving her regretting what only he knew was real. Unfortunately, his body wasn’t cooperating with his brain. Instead of taking a step away from her, his hand curved around her breast, his thumb teasing the peak, sending shock waves of electricity through him. His other hand slid down her back, caressing her flesh, the feel of her under his palms making him want more as he tasted her, his mouth finding her throat, her jaw, her lips. The more he touched her, the more lost he became and the less he wanted to listen to the common sense that would protect them both.
He heard the commotion outside before his brain registered the noise at the house. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. The yelling in the front yard finally broke through the haze of his desire.
“What the hell?” He looked out the barn door over the horse’s back to see his sister being dragged from the front porch by two men. “Stay here,” he warned, grasping Jen’s arms until he saw she understood the seriousness of the situation.
“But, what’s—”
“I mean it, Jen. Don’t leave this barn for any reason. Get into one of the stalls or lock yourself in the office, and stay there until I come back.” He shoved his phone into her hand. “Call the police and tell them to get out here now.”
“But—”
“Just do it. I’ll explain later.” He ran a hand over her cheek and wished he had time to tell her everything. Please don’t let anyone find her in here.
Clay ran out the back of the barn, wishing they were back in Texas where he had a concealed weapon permit. Here in California, he was just going to have to hope his brains and his fists would be enough of a defense to keep everyone safe.
He didn’t recognize the two men dragging Candie by her arms to a large SUV. The smaller of the two was skinny but looked wiry. While he appeared to be calling the shots, Clay was more concerned with the other man, who was a match for him size-wise and looked like the muscle of the operation. This situation screamed danger, and he wasn’t sure whether to make his presence known or to use the element of surprise.
His gaze snapped to the porch as Scott and Derek bolted from the front door. Scott was leveling a shotgun at the men. “Let her go!” he yelled.
&nbs
p; Clay had never been more grateful for his friend. While Scott distracted the pair, Clay moved behind the corral, circling to the back of the black SUV he’d been too preoccupied to hear arriving. He ducked by its back tire.
“Put it down, cowboy, or we’ll kill her.” The muscle wound an arm around Candie’s neck, making her look like a gazelle in the jaws of a lion.
Scott lowered the gun to his side.
“Smart move. Get her in the car,” Skinny ordered his partner. “We’ll send someone back to deal with them later.”
“Stop it, D. You know I don’t like it rough.” His sister’s smart mouth never ceased to amaze Clay. He watched as she tried to break Muscle’s grasp on her, but he twisted her arm higher on her back, between her shoulder blades, until she yelped in pain as he pushed her toward the vehicle. Clay prayed Mike and Silvie wouldn’t come back from town until after the police arrived.
Please let the police get here soon.
Muscle-man shoved Candie against the driver’s side of the car, and Clay heard her grunt of pain. “I was just on my way to see you guys.”
“Get in. Unless you want to see your friends dead, quit jabbering and go where we want you to go.”
“I told you I was coming to get your money. You didn’t even give me time to get it.”
Clay prayed his sister was playing a role for these thugs. He didn’t want to believe she would have conned him for money, but it wouldn’t be the first time if she had. He squatted at the back bumper of the SUV, still hidden from view, trying to figure out a way to stall the two thugs until the police arrived. The ranch was a ways out of town, and these two could be long gone before the cops even realized the severity of the situation. He felt the folding knife in his pocket jam against his hipbone. If he could cut the wall of the tire deep enough to flatten it without notice, they wouldn’t get far. He pulled the knife out and opened it.