The Way Home (Chasing #3)

by Linda Oaks

  Who was this woman, and how did she know me?

  “It’s okay.” I heard her murmur to the child as she untangled tiny arms from around her legs and shooed the girl toward the bar. The blonde began to walk toward me, and it was impossible not to appreciate the sexy sway of her luscious hips as they rolled in rhythm with her graceful steps, or the perfect fit of the faded snug denim that hugged her curvy thighs. The sight of the plain, white t-shirt stretched taunt across her tempting round chest made my tongue feel thick, not to mention other parts of my anatomy. She was a looker and definitely a distraction. One I didn’t need or want.

  I didn’t have time for this kind of shit.

  I had to force myself to raise my eyes and keep them locked on her face. Fuck, it was hard to do. She was beautiful, and here I was behaving like some preteen boy who’d just hit puberty. She had to be an employee. I needed to get a grip. For fuck’s sake, I was probably her boss. She was strictly off limits. I didn’t need a sexual harassment lawsuit slammed against my ass or tacked onto my name along with all of the other smears already added there by Myra Hayes.

  She smiled and held out a slim elegant hand to me. Her nails were short and unpainted. “I’m Miley,” she said and my confusion must have been apparent since I had no idea who she was. Her smile grew even wider, causing me to draw in a sharp breath. Then all of the sudden, she burst out laughing. “Miley Triton,” she stated, her eyes searching mine for any sign of recognition.

  Fuck me running! It was Miley Triton. She was a damn knockout and working for me now! Why?

  Miley was Matt’s little sister; the daughter of a prominent surgeon and a socialite. They were the upper crust of Crawley. Her family came from money. So, why in hell was she working here? She had a twin. They weren’t identical. I couldn’t recall her name. It started with a M. Missy. Melanie. Mia. It was Mia. I never understood why parents choose one letter of the alphabet when naming their kid’s when there were so many others to choose from.

  All throughout high school, Matthew Triton and I had been best friends. We had been quite the pair; the rich kid and the poor one from the wrong side of the tracks. Matt had been like a brother to me until Natalie’s accident. Then I’d pushed everyone, including him, away. I hadn’t seen Matt in years.

  “You don’t remember me?” she asked, pouting, and that pout managed to draw my attention to the full curve of her lush lower lip. She reminded me of a peach — a ripe, juicy, succulent peach that I wanted to take a bite of.

  This was so not happening; not with her… not with Matt’s little sister. She was strictly off limits.

  Her eyes were so blue a man could happily sink to his death within their depths. “Yeah,” I finally replied, finding my voice, while I tried to keep my expression as neutral as possible. The Miley I remembered from my past had been nothing more than a gangly girl; all arms and scrawny legs. Over the years, she’d finally managed to grow into her own; no more ugly duckling, but now a gorgeous swan who was as hot as hell. The memories of her were vague and pale in comparison to the stunningly beautiful woman standing before me now. Matt would beat my ass like a fucking drum if he knew what I was thinking. It was definitely X-rated.

  “I remember you,” I muttered, my voice sounding harsh to my own ears.

  Her lips curved upward into a sweet smile, and I had no other choice but to take the hand she offered since it was hanging awkwardly in mid-air between us. The moment I touched her, I knew I’d made a mistake. It was like grabbing ahold of a live wire and free falling into nothingness. There was no other way to describe it, and it was terrifying. Electricity shot up my arm and coursed throughout my body leaving a tingling awareness in its path. Her palm was soft and silky against mine. My nose detected the faint but subtle, sexy scent of wild honeysuckle. It reminded me of home.

  Warmth settled low in my groin; a simmering consciousness of awareness that quickly turned into more. My dick chose that exact moment to come fully alive. Fuck, not now, I thought… not with her. As quickly as possible, I released her hand, praying she wouldn’t notice my reaction. She was a dangerous, heady combination of female temptation. By the sudden flare of heat in her pretty blue eyes, she seemed as aware of me as I was of her.

  Not a chance. This is so not happening, sweetheart.

  I knew her type. She was the kind of woman that needed a guy she could pin all of her hopes and dreams on. I wasn’t that guy; not the nine to fiver or the white picket fence. It just wasn’t in me. The thought literally made me fucking itch. I couldn’t promise her anything. My life was fine just the way it was. I didn’t need five feet and six inches of blonde distraction causing me any grief or remorse. I’d already had more than my share. Hell, I didn’t do complicated and would be doing us both a favor by firing her pretty ass right now on the spot, but my gaze drifted to the kid.

  Shit! I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t be that big of a prick. Any relationship we had would be strictly professional. I would make damn sure of it despite what my dick said.

  “How’s your brother?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably.

  Her lips curved into a tight smile. This was not the reaction I’d expected since Matt had always been the typical over achiever and over protective big brother. The one memory that came to mind when I recalled the twins was their antics. The time they’d stolen my shoes from me and had thrown them into the in-ground pool out back. They made sure to put bags filled with gravel in them so the shoes would sink. When I’d crash at Matt’s house after school, they were always around pestering and giggling. Matt never paid much attention to their mischief, but I’d considered them a huge pain in the ass. Maybe it was all because of the fact that I’d grown up alone with no siblings.

  Matt’s parents were the standard cliché, which wasn’t surprising. The rich and snotty type who didn’t want their little prince to hang out with a common nobody whose parents were known far and wide as nothing more than the town druggies. In the end, Matt had defended me time and time again until, finally, he’d won them over. They’d eventually grown to accept our friendship despite their narrow-minded views.

  Hell, we all weren’t fortunate enough to be born with a fucking silver spoon in our mouths.

  “Matt’s fine.” Miley’s tone was slightly frosty. “He’s an attorney living in Hurley and a partner in a firm. If you’re up that way, you should stop in and see him. I’m sure he would love for you to visit.”

  It was impossible not to notice her discomfort as she brought me up to speed on her brother. She straightened her shoulders, staring back at me. Without her heels, I’d estimate she was close to five-foot-six. Her calm expression betrayed her apparent anxiety. The way she clenched her hands at her sides was a dead giveaway. Her brother appeared to be a touchy subject, and silently, I wondered what had caused a rift between the two of them when at one time they’d been close.

  As thick as thieves my gran used to say.

  In my line of work, the ability to read people quickly became second nature. Most who I dealt with were nothing more than scum; the scourge of the land. People lied. They stole. They committed horrible crimes and carried out unspeakable acts. They stabbed each other in the back and threw one another underneath the proverbial bus. This was my reality, but there was always an apparent tell to the observer if they only knew what to look for; a little quirk that betrayed a person’s inner thoughts no matter how good of a liar or a con artist they believed themselves to be.

  Miley’s tell was an easy one to spot; the tightly clasped hands and white knuckles. She wasn’t fooling anyone. There was far more to this story than what she was telling me. I couldn’t help but wonder about the rest of the missing pieces.

  “I never thought I’d see you back in Crawley of all places,” she said, cleverly switching the subject.

  A slight grin curled my lips. You and me both, sweetheart, I thought grimly. It had been crazy to return. “Well, to be truthful, I never expected to wind back up here either,” I replied, and decided then
and there to put an end to this game of cat and mouse. It was pointless, anyway. There was no need for me to be snooping in her business, and she sure as hell didn’t need to be snooping in mine. She was just an employee, nothing more. That was all she would ever be.

  There was no logical explanation as to why I’d returned to Crawley besides the one of temporary insanity. I had to be losing my ever loving mind. It wasn’t anyone’s damn business anyway but my own, and even if I could explain… I wouldn’t, but a sense of peace had settled over me when I’d turned onto the graveled road leading up to the old house where I’d been raised. In all of the places I’d ever traveled across the country, that old rundown house sitting on top of Hawk Mountain had felt more like home than anywhere else I’d ever been.

  Even though by coming to Crawley, I knew it would be impossible to escape my past and the constant reminders of Natalie, I hadn’t been able to stay away. It had taken me years, but why now? I didn’t understand it. With a start, a realization dawned that I hadn’t felt the urge to leave town, not once since my arrival. It was downright strange, since the longest I’d spent in one place at a time was three to four days tops — unless it was case related. Then, maybe a week at the most.

  The Eight Ball had been a solid investment. It could be managed from afar. I didn’t need to tie up my time here, and if needed, I could still travel. It would turn a profit with or without me. The business would thrive. Mavis had obviously hired a competent staff; I’d learned she had continued to work full time at the grocery and had popped in a couple of times throughout the week to check in on the place. For now, that was my plan, too. At least until I decided to leave, and leaving was a definite. I wasn’t sticking around long.

  While staying in Crawley, I’d drop by The Eight Ball only on the weekends, a couple of hours at the most. The rest of my time I planned to devote to restoring the old house, just in case I ever needed a place to land longer than a few days. My gran would have loved the idea of me staying in the old house. She would have never wanted me to have sold it in the first place.

  Fuck!

  The thought made me feel slightly ashamed since I’d done just exactly what she had asked me not to do, disobeying her wishes and having sold the house, but it was back in my possession now and that’s all that mattered. For the next few months, I was officially taking a break. Once everything was settled, I would head back out on the road to track down my next skip. It would be business as usual.

  There was nothing for me here in Crawley; no roots to keep me cemented in the ground. I certainly did not need the pretty blonde standing before me or her mini-me, who was now peering around the corner of the bar watching us. They were both double trouble.

  “Who’s the kid?” I asked, and Miley’s face lit up at that question. It was a damn sight to behold. She was breathtaking.

  “Sierra, come here, baby.” Miley motioned the little girl over. Her gaze flickering from mine to the child.

  Even though the kid was as skittish as a newborn colt, she obeyed Miley without question. Wearing a pair of pink shorts and a matching t-shirt with a purple pony on the front, she was cute… I guess, for a kid. Miley didn’t even have to tell me who she belonged to. She had to be hers; the same strawberry blonde hair and the same sky blue eyes and freckles. She reached for Miley’s hand and stared back at me with wide eyes. I cleared my throat. Hell, I couldn’t be rude even if I wanted to. This was Matt’s little sister and his niece.

  “Hi there, Sierra. I’m Nate,” I stated and held out my hand, but instead of taking it she edged closer to Miley. I didn’t really blame her. I wouldn’t trust me either. I was pretty scary looking, but I didn’t want her to be afraid of me. The thought was bothersome, and I didn’t understand why it should matter to me in the least.

  “She’s shy,” Miley explained, and my gaze flickered from hers to the little girl. “This is Mommy’s new boss. He owns The Eight Ball. It’s okay. He’s not a stranger.” Her explanation struck me as kind of odd, but hell, what did I know about raising a kid; absolutely fucking nothing. The thought sent a pang straight through my nonexistent heart. I didn’t need this bullshit!

  “It’s not you, Nate,” Miley explained as if sensing my unease.

  “It’s no big deal.” I shrugged, blowing it off. “I just wanted to stop by this morning to take a look around and meet the rest of the staff.”

  Miley nodded in understanding. I didn’t bother looking at the kid again since it was pretty obvious she was as uncomfortable as I was. Halfway turning around in a circle, I inspected the room. It wasn’t bad, not bad at all. The walls were wood; a deep, rich, tobacco brown. The floors were the same, but faded white in spots due to the heavy traffic it had obviously seen throughout the years. Everything was wood. That was a plus in my books.

  Aged tin signs hung along the walls displaying different brands of beer and whiskey available for purchase. It wasn’t a dive, not like the kind I was used to or had expected it to be. The Eight Ball was the kind of place where you could come in, kick back, and let off a little steam. Sure, I’d seen the photos Mavis had emailed beforehand, but actually seeing it in person was different. This was the first time I’d actually set foot inside The Eight Ball.

  A total of four pool tables were located in the back. Overhead lighting consisted of nothing more than fixtures of tarnished metal encasing slim glass tubes of fluorescent bulbs. I liked it. I liked it a lot. The whole look and feel of the place. The bar was the main focal point. The tables and chairs were smartly positioned and arranged around the sides of the room leaving just enough space for a small dance floor if couples chose to dance after having a few beers. There was even a stage for a band.

  The design and set up was smart making the most of the available space within. It definitely wasn’t what I’d been expecting, but then neither was the blonde standing before me now. I couldn’t help but wonder what secrets were hiding behind those pretty blue eyes of hers.

  “The staff?” I asked, deciding on a neutral topic instead of interrogating her any further. It wasn’t my business anyway, and I’d do well to remember just that.

  “At nine, Cecil comes in,” Miley informed me, her tone polite and now strictly professional. She’d obviously taken the hint. “Cecil’s the cook. He fills in anywhere else he’s needed unless the place is busy, then he’s entirely in the kitchen. At eleven, Maggie’s shift starts for the day. She runs the bar until closing. Austin works the weekend shift, Friday and Saturday. He’s a college student. Sometimes, if Maggie’s kids have something going on, and he can, he will cover for her. This week, he’s on break, so you’ll probably meet him today since Maggie’s kids have some kind of program after school. We’re closed on Sunday. Katrina and Sarah should both arrive by nine-thirty. There’s a schedule with a list of employees in your office. There’s a rush around lunchtime, and then business will die down for the day but pick back up after five.”

  Sierra tugged at Miley’s hand, drawing her attention. She glanced down at her and smiled. “Why don’t you go gather your things, honey? It’s almost time.”

  Sierra eyed me warily as she walked past, making sure to keep a safe distance between us. Despite Miley’s explanation, the kid acted spooked. Someone had made that little girl afraid, but who? “How old is she?” I asked and wanted to bite my fucking tongue off for even asking.

  Why in the hell did I care anyway?

  “She turned four last month. She’s here with me in the mornings until daycare opens at nine.” Her expression grew soft as she gazed at her daughter.

  “Her father?” I asked, and her eyes snapped to mine flashing with what I was sure was annoyance. It was obvious I’d hit a nerve. I just didn’t know when to keep my big mouth shut.

  Not your business, Nate. Not your business, I reminded myself, but it was no use.

  “There’s no father in the picture,” she said with a tight lipped smile, while arching her eyebrows at me as if silently daring me to ask her anything else. Way to go, as
shole. It was all I could do not to smile. Miley was a feisty little thing, and I couldn’t help but admire her spunk.

  “You never did tell me what made you decide to return to Crawley?” She was obviously putting me on the spot just for spite.

  All right, if that’s how you want to play this. We’ll do it your way for now, sweetheart.

  “No, I didn’t,” I said flatly, blowing off her question to walk past her to the bar. It was rude, but I didn’t give a damn.

  “I usually arrive around eight to make sure everything is ready for the late morning crowd.” I heard her comment. “It’s time for me to drop Sierra off at daycare. After that, I’ll be back. Like I said, the place is dead until after eleven.”

  “I’m ready, Mommy.”

  At hearing Sierra’s voice, my attention was drawn from the various bottles crowded together on the shelves behind the bar. When I turned around, Miley was helping Sierra slide the straps of her purple backpack onto her shoulders. Suddenly, the bell over the door jingled. A huge bald guy standing at least six-foot-three appeared. He stood just inside the entrance of The Eight Ball staring at us.

  “C!” Sierra squealed, and ran full speed toward the stranger. Miley was smiling.

  This must be Cecil.

  He swooped the little girl up in his muscular arms, then his narrowed beady eyes focused on me. His expression grew dark. He moved toward us. His gaze shifting from Miley to me. He had to weigh at least three hundred pounds. He was a big, cocky son of a bitch.

  “Who the hell are you?” he roared, his burly voice rumbled like thunder.

  WTH? I thought. I didn’t like that fucker’s tone.

  “Cecil, behave,” Miley cautioned, scolding him as if he were a small child. It was obvious she was comfortable with him.

  I didn’t like the way he was looking at me or at her for that matter. The possessive gleam in his eyes set my nerves on edge. My jaw tightened. My hand clenched at my side forming a fist I longed to slam into his face. Hell, for all I knew, he could be the kid’s father. Miley and Sierra weren’t mine, but The Eight Ball was, and you can damn well guarantee I planned on setting this asshole straight starting now.