“Go fuck yourself,” she said slowly.
He dipped his head.
Neve froze as his breath drifted over her skin. Goose bumps rose in the wake and her blood started to swim as she caught his scent. He smelled of sawdust and musk and something smoky. It was heady, intoxicating. Her heart jumped up to slam away in her throat and it took a moment to even focus on his words.
“But that’s so boring, Neve.” He straightened and then moved away. “You’re not even close to broken. If you were, you never would have left that sad sack of shite. But you did.”
Closing one hand into a fist, she met his eyes when he turned to look at her.
“This really isn’t any of your concern.”
“Well, that could depend on how you look at it.”
“Oh, really,” she said. Feeling exposed under his penetrating glance, she crossed her arms over her middle. “Do tell.”
“It’s your private business, of that there’s no question.” Ian studied her and then once more, closed the distance between them. “Your private business. But then there’s this thing…”
His voice trailed off.
“What thing?”
“You know, if you’d told me you hated me, I wouldn’t dare do this. But you didn’t, so…”
She didn’t even have time to brace herself before he kissed her.
With hard, rough hands, he cupped her face and tipped her head back.
Her heart banged hard against her ribs as he slid his tongue along her lower lip, teased the entrance to her mouth, but when she opened for him, he broke the kiss.
“That’s the thing, Neve. I want you. I want you naked and in my bed, so that means I can’t help but think about it.” He swiped his thumb across her lower lip.
The sensation sent a shiver through her and heat chased back the chill.
But then he lowered his hands and turned away. “I can’t help but think about it—and knowing that the fucker who did this to you likely did it because of your connection to Brannon eats at me, Neve. It’s like a fire in my gut.”
“I…” She stopped and forced herself to breathe. The ache in her chest spread as she watched him scrub his hands up and down his face. “I don’t even know what to say to you.”
He glanced back at her, his eyes unreadable. “You didn’t pull away when I touched you.”
“Was I supposed to?”
“Maybe.” He lifted one heavy shoulder in a shrug. “Knowing what you know now—why shouldn’t you pull away?”
“You didn’t do anything.” Cold, she wrapped her arms around herself. Unable to stand there, she started to pace. “You didn’t do it. Brannon didn’t.” She stopped in the middle of the floor as she forced the rest of it out. “I didn’t.”
“You blame yourself.”
Slowly, she looked up at him. “Are you a mind reader?”
“No.” He blew out a harsh breath. “I just know that look on your face. I saw it on a face of my gran. My grandfather … he would hurt her. A lot. But she didn’t leave him. She just killed herself instead.”
* * *
Still haunted by what Ian had told her, it took a great deal of willpower for Neve to focus on Brannon as he walked her through the place, but she finally succeeded. To her surprise, the blueprints he showed her actually made sense to her—in a way. She could see some sort of roughed-out idea of what this place might look like and it delighted her.
“I have to admit I’m impressed.” Neve studied the blueprints and eyed the mock-ups or whatever Brannon had called them.
He talked to her the same way he’d talk to a nervous horse. She found herself scowling at the image it brought to mind—Brannon handling her with kid gloves for fear of frightening her. It just pissed her off even more. She tried not to think about it, but abruptly, she put down the dregs of the coffee she’d been nursing and turned away from him, walking across the room that would eventually be an office.
“What’s the point of all this, Brannon?”
“I already told you. I need help with it.” He straightened up, that easy smile fixed firmly back in place.
“Why? Do you think I need somebody to hand me something so I feel like I’m needed?” The pathetic truth was that she did need something.
Something flashed in his eyes, but was hidden a moment later.
It snapped the threads of her temper. “Stop it!”
He frowned. “Stop what?”
“Stop treating me like I’m fragile.” She swiped her hands down her jeans, and realized she was sweating. She was fragile. She felt that way. But how could she get past that if everybody treated her like some delicate piece of glass? “I fucked up but I survived it. If he comes looking—”
“I’ll kill him,” Brannon yelled, his voice echoing.
The clattering of hammers went silent.
He swore and stormed over to the frame that would eventually hold the door. “Clear out! Now!”
The next few minutes were filled with sounds of low voices, toolboxes slamming, and heavy boots thudding as everybody hit the door. From where she stood, Neve couldn’t see them but she had no doubt people were leaving.
“Well.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she angled a look at her brother. He was bent over the board that had been placed over two sawhorses. His shoulders were rounded, spine stiff with tension. “It looks like your temper is still the same.”
Brannon was laid-back for the most part, but once you set him off, it was wise to stay out of the line of fire.
“Fuck, Neve. What am I supposed to do?”
“Let me breathe.”
He straightened and turned to look at her.
She was still surprised the words had slid out and had to fumble with what to say next. “Brannon … I … look, I spent the past couple of years questioning everything I did, afraid to let myself get close to anybody … just alone. And afraid. I’m tired of being afraid, but if you want me to find that part of me that wasn’t afraid to kick people in the teeth…” She stopped and swallowed. Did that girl still exist? She just didn’t know. She’d been as lonely then. She’d wanted—needed somebody to just tell her it would be okay. She hadn’t been okay in years. “I have to breathe. I have to work things out.”
“I’m not trying to smother you, sis,” he said, his voice tired now. She suspected he hadn’t slept worth shit. He looked away, his jaw clenching as he stared outside. “But I can’t be okay with this. I—I just can’t.”
“I’m not okay with it, either. But it’s done. There’s no changing it. Now I just have to go on.” She crossed the floor and reached out to catch his hand. “I’d rather not have my big brother in jail.”
A faint smile appeared on his face, gone almost as soon as it formed.
“As long as he stays out of our town, there’s nothing to worry about.” He reached up and tugged her toward him, hugging her tight. “You’re not alone here. I wish…”
He didn’t finish. She felt him shake his head. “That doesn’t matter. You’re here now. That matters.”
“I love you, Brannon.”
“Yeah. I love you, too, Neve.”
Pulling away, she looked around. “This will be pretty cool when you’re done. You don’t need me for anything.”
A pained look crossed his face. “But that’s just the point. I don’t want to finish it up.”
“You started it.” She scowled at him.
“Yeah.” He shrugged now. “That’s the fun part for me. I…” He trailed off and looked away. “Being around here, having to deal with all the day-to-day decisions isn’t what I wanted to mess with. I want to be out at the winery, working there, handling that part.”
He paused, then added, “Come on, Neve. Help me out.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
That lovely shade of red, William would know it anywhere.
At end of the block, he studied her. She stood in front of a shop, her arms wrapped around her, her expression thoughtful and the breeze turned her hair into
a banner, whipping it around her face.
Gone were the lovely designer clothes he’d bought her. She wore threadbare jeans and a simple silk top. The top was sufficient, but the pants were a disgrace. Her shoes were a pair of black flats.
Still, despite the plain clothing, Neve McKay looked lovely. She always looked lovely. Once he had her back where she belonged, he’d see to it that she was dressed as was fitting for a woman of her station.
He moved closer, need pulsing inside him. It wouldn’t take much. All he had to do was get her alone for a few minutes. A quick look around had him thinking hard and fast. It wasn’t a bustling sort of town, that was certain. A few moments and he could bring her around.
She lifted a hand, brushing her hair back, and he could see the long, pale line of her neck. His own hands itched and he thought of that first night, when he’d wrapped the pretty green silk around her elegant neck and made her his.
His mouth watering, he took another step.
He’d talk to her. There was no reason for this utter nonsense to continue. She’d had her fun. Now it was time for it to end, for her to come home where she belonged. He might even be lenient.
The words were already forming on his tongue and he was already envisioning the look on her face, how her eyes would widen and the hesitant gasp she’d make.
When the man moved up to stand behind her, a vicious wash of red came across William’s vision.
* * *
“He talked you into it, didn’t he?”
Neve jumped at the sound of Ian’s voice. She’d been about ready to leave, uneasy—there was an odd, rippling sensation crawling down her spine, like the weight of a hundred thousand gazes on her. Or one very evil one.
Standing in front of the bookstore, she looked into the glass and saw Ian in the reflection. “I remember this bookstore.” She smiled. “Old Mrs. Stafford. My mom and dad would bring me here and I’d leave with an entire stack of books.”
“You’re a reader then,” he said as he came to stand at her shoulder.
The uneasiness inside her gut faded, as if it had never been. “I used to be.” Neve tried to think of the last time she’d read a book, the last time she’d had the time … or the presence of mind to focus on a book. “Lately, not so much.”
“You should get back to it.” He flicked at the ends of her hair. “What’s your poison, my darling Neve? Do you want a swashbuckling pirate? Or do you prefer a mystery? Some epic tale where good and evil battle at the world’s edge?”
“How about all of the above?” She shrugged. “It’s been so long, I don’t know the last time I even read a book.”
“We should rectify that.” He rested a hand on her waist.
Her heart skittered up into dangerous territory and she wondered what he’d do if she turned to face him, lean against him, press her mouth to his.
“You didn’t answer me, you know.”
Her gaze flew to his.
“Didn’t answer what?” she asked, her voice trembling.
He turned, slowly. It seemed they were talking about something much more intimate than whether or not she was going to take on the job Brannon wanted to thrust upon her.
His dark eyes scorched her skin and she wanted to move closer, let him scorch her. She was tired of being cold, tired of being lonely.
Ian’s thumb slid under the hem of her white silk shirt, rubbed over her skin. “I just asked if he talked you into it. Did he?”
Oh. That. She made a face at him even as she had to handle how her heart continued to race. “It’s not that he talked me into it. It’s that I need to do something more than just sit home. All the hard stuff is done. If all he needs is somebody to pick out paint chips and decide what kind of floor to lay down … I can handle that.” She grinned. “If I mess it up, it’s his own damn fault. I’ve already decided to veto the lace doilies.”
“There is a God,” Ian said, returning her grin. It faded, though, and he reached up, cupping her cheek.
That simple gesture made her heart melt.
“He’s not going to be satisfied with you throwing me doilies out the window, though. He’s looking for a way to keep you here.” His thumb brushed against her cheek and Neve could have sworn the entire world seemed to fall away. “They missed you.”
They missed me. Chilled now, she moved back. Ian’s hand fell away. She turned back to the window of the bookstore, thinking of long, empty years, how long she’d gone with little more than a phone call, thought of the letters—
Her backpack. Anger gnawed at her, how the loss of that one simple item was indescribable.
They wrote me. They’d told her they had and she believed them, but despite that, there was a tiny knot of hurt still lodged in her heart. Keenly aware of Ian’s gaze, she made herself focus. “I’m not leaving.” She turned and studied the town, the busy main strip, the café across the street and the new restaurant next door. “This is home. I never should have left.”
“Why did you?”
“Haven’t you heard?” She cocked a brow at him.
“Not much.” He shrugged and her mouth went dry as the movement stretched his T-shirt over that amazing body. “People talk, but people don’t often know shite. I want to hear why you left—from you.”
“That’s a long story.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she took a step away from him. A police cruiser came by and she nodded at Gideon as he glanced her way. He turned in by the courthouse, just down the block and her gut twisted. She’d told Moira and Brannon what she thought they needed to know. But Gideon needed to know all of it—if she could handle telling him.
“Is there something between you?”
“What?” Confused by the edge she heard in his voice, she looked up at Ian.
“Marshall. You’re staring rather hard at his car.”
Laughter burst out of her. Some of the tension pent up inside her drained away, carried away by the fit of giggles. “Me…” Another snort of laughter kept her from getting it out. Finally, she was able to say it with just a few chuckles. “Me and Gideon? Are you serious?”
“If that’s your reaction, I guess the answer is no.” He took another step closer.
The air around her got hotter, tighter. Swallowing the laughter that still bubbled in her throat, she met Ian’s eyes. Wow. He had incredibly beautiful eyes. In that moment, they seemed to burn hot and the heat she’d felt between them earlier rekindled.
She barely knew this man—had met him just a couple of times, but he tugged reactions out of her that she wasn’t sure she could handle.
“Look,” she said, fumbling for the words. She started to knot her fingers together. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she stopped and shoved them into her back pockets. How many times had she done that in the past? When William yelled at her, what had she done but stood there and twisted her hands and wished she had the courage to just stand up to him. To leave.
“Aye,” Ian said, drawing her back to the present. His voice was low and rough. “I’m looking at you.”
It came out as Aye, ’m lookin a ya and the words rolled over her like silken velvet. She wanted to roll herself up in that voice, wrap it around herself. And run away. Both. At the very same time.
Blood rushed to her face. “You’re one huge walking orgasm,” she blurted out.
Ian blinked.
And then, to her surprise, a grin tugged up the corners of his lips. “I must say, that’s the first time I’ve ever been accused of that.” He stroked a hand down his beard and the grin went from being pensive to pleased. “I can’t say I mind.”
Groaning, Neve pressed one hand to her brow.
“Yeah, well, that surprises me not at all.” She blew out a breath again, humiliation churning inside her. She couldn’t believe she’d said that. Okay, so yes, she’d been thinking it. She’d stopped blurting out what she thought ages ago, though.
“William,” she whispered. It hit her like a weight in the chest and she blew out a slow, careful
breath. He’d all but beaten the impulsiveness out of her. Not through force, but with cutting insults and cold gestures.
A hand brushed across her cheek.
Instinctively, she flinched.
“You keep going away.”
Never looked back up at him.
The intensity of his eyes lingered on her face.
“I can’t help it. Some things … pull at me.”
Ian reached up and cupped her cheek.
She found herself turning her face into his hand and it felt so good. The strength of a man’s hand, gentle on her skin—she’d forgotten how that could feel. It felt good. “That’s when you just have to pull back harder.” Then he dipped his head and said, “And if that doesn’t do it, you can always just beat the bloody hell out of it … or him.”
* * *
The bruised look on her face was ripping the guts right out of him. Ian didn’t know what he was going to do if he kept having to see it—the need to do something violent and bloody rode him hard, but the problem? The man who’d put that look on her face wasn’t around for him to tear apart.
But Ian needed to see her smile again.
So he shifted his grip to her chin and tilted her head back. “So, when you get that chance, you be sure to let me know, because I think I’d love to have a chance to … hold him for you.”
He made sure to keep the pause there lengthy and deliberate.
It worked, too, because Neve’s pretty green eyes slid up to his and a smile bowed her lips. Oh, but he wanted to taste that mouth again. Wanted it more than he thought he’d ever wanted anything.
“You just want to hold him for me?”
“It seems like the thing for a gentleman to do.” He lowered his hand and took a step back. If he didn’t move back, he’d very well be moving forward in just a moment. The scent of her skin was going to drive him mad.
“You very much come off as a gentleman.” She glanced away as she said it.
“Oh, I am. Very much so. And as a gentleman, it strikes me that you probably haven’t had much of a chance to see how much things have changed since you’ve been gone. Why don’t we go have lunch … I’ll catch you up on some of the things Brannon’s been up to.”
Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) Page 19