by Brenda Novak
“Is this our destination?” she asked after she’d allowed herself a few more minutes to enjoy what he’d brought her to see.
“It is if you’re ready to go back. If not, I’ll show you a pretty lake I found a few months ago. It’s not much farther.”
“I don’t want to go back,” she said. “I don’t think I ever want to go back.”
She could feel him studying her, but she didn’t look over. She wasn’t about to explain that statement or apologize for it. Of course she didn’t mean it. She would never run out on her daughter. But this chance to escape all the bad memories was a welcome reprieve.
“Let’s head out,” he said.
She hopped onto the bike far more eagerly this time and slid her arms around his lean waist. “Go faster!” she yelled once they’d started.
He couldn’t hear her until she put up her face mask. Then, with a grin, he nodded—and obliged.
The ride was exhilarating. India felt happier than she’d been since before Charlie died. Whenever something her husband would’ve said or done came to mind, she ignored it and focused strictly on the solid frame of the man she clung to. She liked the feel of Rod so much that it was shockingly easy to enjoy his close proximity—something that, once again, she refused to think about.
After they reached the sign he’d been looking for, they parked and he led her down a short, wooded path to a small lake. It was getting dark. With the sun barely a brushstroke of gold in the west and a giant, ghostlike moon climbing into the sky on the other side, they seemed to be witnessing the day’s last gasp.
That seemed...significant, as if she was also witnessing the last gasp of her old life before she allowed it to slip away for good.
“It’s nice and cool here,” she said and took off her shoes to wade in the lake.
Rod stood farther up the shore.
“You’re not getting in?” She turned to see why he wasn’t joining her.
“No. I’m happy just to watch you.”
She stopped moving and stared back at him.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “You know that, I hope.”
“God, you’re...”
“What?”
“Tempting,” she finished.
His boyish grin made him even more tempting. “You act like that’s a problem.”
Her heart was suddenly pounding so hard she could barely speak. “It is!”
“Why?”
“Because sex between us now...it wouldn’t be casual. We...we couldn’t do casual. Not anymore.”
“I never wanted casual in the first place, not with you.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “What’s different about me?”
“I don’t know. Something. So what’s wrong with intense?”
She wasn’t ready to open herself up to that much emotion. It didn’t seem fair to Charlie. And even if she wasn’t still struggling to get over him, she was terrified of what she might feel with Rod—and where it might lead. She couldn’t risk making another mistake. She had no more reserves, no way to rebound if it turned out all wrong. “There’s no point in starting anything. I probably won’t be able to stay in Whiskey Creek.”
“You can stay. I won’t let Sebastian or anyone else chase you out,” he said. And the crazy thing was she almost believed him.
“There’s nothing you can do. He’s willing to go too far. You can’t get involved, anyway. I don’t want anyone else hurt.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I can look out for myself.” He came over, stepped into the water with his motorcycle boots on and took her hands.
India told herself to back away. She could easily do that; he wasn’t restricting her movement, wasn’t hanging on tight.
Instead, she stood transfixed, waiting for his lips to touch hers.
They did, but far too briefly. When he lifted his head, she felt a heavy dose of sexual frustration.
He knew what he was doing, she realized, knew exactly how to weaken her resolve.
“But if you want me, you’re going to have to give me a real chance.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. Charlie was my husband! Cassia’s father!”
“The man you’ve told me about wouldn’t want you to be alone, India. If you’re ever going to be happy again, you have to let go. You have to.”
She closed her eyes. “That’s easier said than done.”
“I know. But he’d want you to live your life. Don’t let the past ruin the future.”
She wanted to ignore caution, respond the way her body dictated and forget everything else. But her child was at stake. What if the Sommerses learned about her involvement with another man? They’d never believe she truly loved Charlie. That she’d had nothing to do with his death.
Maybe she was even being watched by the police. Maybe Detective Flores now believed Sebastian’s defense attorney and was actively gathering proof against her. That could be the reason they’d freed Sebastian.
Regardless, if she got involved with another man at this stage, especially a guy like Rod, it wouldn’t reflect well on her.
“I can’t offer you anything other than a casual encounter,” she said. “Here. Now. And no one can know about it.”
“I’m not satisfied with that,” he said. “Quit making stipulations. Quit holding back. We go into this with at least some hope for more or we don’t go into it at all.”
She nearly slid her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. She craved the feel of him against her, wanted him to help her forget all her fears. But she couldn’t start a new relationship, or she wouldn’t be able to respect herself, let alone command any respect from Charlie’s family or Detective Flores.
“Then I have no choice,” she said.
He stepped back. “We’ll see.”
That wasn’t the response she’d been expecting. “Excuse me?”
“Since you’re going to be sleeping in my bed from now on, you can let me know when you’re ready.”
She felt her jaw drop. “Who said I was going to be sleeping in your bed?”
“I did. You can’t stay at your place. It’s not safe. And I won’t hear of you camping out on my deck again. That puts you in my bed—” his gaze ranged over her “—right where I want you.”
* * *
Mack felt his muscles tense under his blankets. He could hear Natasha moving around the TV room and was afraid she might knock. She did that occasionally. Sometimes she’d even come in and sit on his bed. That wouldn’t be good, considering how hard he’d struggled to ignore her while they were watching a movie earlier. The older she got, the more difficult it became for him... She was what he pictured whenever he closed his eyes. How many times had he dreamed that he finally had her naked beneath him?
Too many. There had to be something wrong with him to want her like he did.
He was a twisted, sick son of a bitch, he decided. He was also ashamed. He could guess what his brothers would think. Rod had already brought the subject up to him, so obviously there were signs.
Maybe he should’ve admitted how he felt and asked for help. Except he didn’t see what anyone else would be able to do. He’d done everything he could to kill the attraction—had been trying to control his thoughts and feelings from the start. Nothing seemed to work. He’d wanted her in his bed from practically the first day he’d met her.
He’d never forget how she’d walked into that restaurant with her flake of a mother, so embarrassed and angry by Anya’s behavior that she couldn’t look at anyone without glaring. He’d felt sorry for her. He’d also felt protective. But, God help him, he’d never felt brotherly. He’d been fighting to keep their relationship within the proper boundaries ever since.
Even if his father hadn’t married her mother, she wa
s too young for him, he told himself. Nine years was a lot. She was only nineteen!
But nothing he did seemed to change what he felt. He ignored her. He avoided her. He tried to distract himself with other interests. He’d gone out with—and slept with—just about every available woman in Whiskey Creek. He’d nearly turned himself into a man-whore trying to satisfy the craving Natasha inspired.
All to no avail.
And these days she was making it so much more difficult than it had to be! She spent every minute she could with him. Walked up to him in her bikini to see if he wanted to swim in the river. Sat next to him on the couch or at the kitchen table if he was ever stupid enough to take a seat where there was an open spot nearby. Cooked him food. Brought home whatever leftovers she thought he might like if she went out.
Once, when they’d been cooling off in the river, she’d tried to kiss him. He’d shoved her away and told her never to touch him like that again, but the hurt his rejection had caused almost made him feel worse than if he’d let her do it. She was already so defensive, so reluctant to trust. The way he was treating her couldn’t be helping her feel loved or secure.
But what could he do?
“Shit,” he grumbled. He couldn’t wait until she left for college. Surely then he’d be able to forget her—at least in that way—since she wouldn’t be living and working with him anymore.
Rolling over, he grabbed his phone to check the date. She’d be gone in two months. That wasn’t long. But every day seemed more difficult than the one before...
Briefly, he considered getting up and going over to Sexy Sadie’s. He needed to lose himself in a woman or he’d continue to lie there indefinitely, hard as a rock and thinking about Natasha.
He was just getting out of bed when his door opened. “Mack?”
Oh, God. There she was. He’d been able to tell she was restless all evening, that she had something on her mind. She’d kept sidling closer to him as they watched that action flick he’d chosen—until he’d gotten up under the pretense that he needed a beer and then sat clear across the room when he got back.
“Mack?” she said again, since he hadn’t answered.
He almost growled at her to get the hell out. Didn’t she know what she was doing to him? That he was tied up in knots all the damn time? She was making it impossible for him to live with himself!
“What is it?” he said, struggling to modulate his voice so that she wouldn’t assume there was anything wrong.
“Can we talk?”
He hesitated. The smart answer would be no. But now she’d gotten his curiosity up, in addition to...other things. “Sure,” he said and climbed back into bed so he could cover up. He was wearing boxer briefs. She’d seen him going into or out of the bathroom in his underwear before. But lately that felt different.
The way she looked at him these days...
“What is it?”
She slipped inside the room and closed the door behind her. It was too dark to see what she was wearing, but when she came closer he recognized one of his old T-shirts. He knew that was what she normally wore to bed. She snagged various shirts out of the laundry, but he’d noticed that they always belonged to him.
“Something wrong?” He couldn’t help wondering what she was wearing underneath that T-shirt. He hoped she had on a pair of panties almost more than he hoped she didn’t...
“We have only two months left,” she said.
We? “Until you leave?”
“Yes.”
He cleared his throat. “You excited?”
“No. Why would I be?”
“Because college is...college. It’s supposed to be a blast. And you’re the only one in the family to have that opportunity.”
She fidgeted with the edge of his blanket. “I don’t care. You won’t be there. That’s all that matters to me, so it doesn’t sound like fun at all.”
His heart began to knock against his ribs. “You might find it hard to be away from home at first, but you’ll get used to it.”
“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” she snapped. “I don’t care about leaving home. I care about leaving you. You’re all I want, all I’ve ever wanted.”
What could he say to that? “Natasha, stop. Don’t make things weird between us. Our parents are married.”
“So what? We were both adults when that happened. Absolute strangers when we met two and a half years ago.”
“I was an adult. You were sixteen.” That was the other problem... Maybe she’d just turned nineteen, but the age difference hadn’t narrowed.
“Almost seventeen. I know what I feel. Know who I want. Don’t treat me like a baby. You’ve never done that before.”
“Listen, it’s just a crush,” he said. “You’ll meet someone else once you get to school.”
For a long time she said nothing, merely kept her head bent as she stared at the carpet. “So you don’t love me back.”
Those six words hit him like a fist to the gut. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. “Natasha, this isn’t about love. It’s about—”
“What?” she broke in. “That we’ve lived together for two years because our dysfunctional parents happened to find each other on some website and wound up getting married? Why should that keep us apart? We’re no more related now than we were then. It’s not like your father raised me—or my mother raised you.”
“Trust me. It matters, whether we want it to or not,” he said. “Besides, you’re too young for me.”
“At nineteen?”
“Nineteen is too close to eighteen! There’s someone else out there for you.”
She stood up. “That’s not true. There’s never been anyone else.”
“There could be. I’ve seen the way guys look at you. You’ve had plenty of interest.”
“I’ve never been interested in them.”
Mack’s chest constricted, making it tough to breathe. “Good. Wait until you fall in love. Sex is much better if there’s love involved.”
“Stop it!” she yelled. “Just...stop! I hate that you won’t listen to what I’m saying.”
He said nothing. She might be only nineteen, but she was the oldest nineteen-year-old he’d ever met. With a mother like Anya, she’d seen it all growing up, could never be called naive.
“Whether you want to hear this or not, I’m in love with you,” she whispered harshly. “I’d give anything to be with you.”
There. She’d said the words. What they’d both tried to ignore for months and months. And now that it was out, how was he going to avoid her for eight more weeks? Avoid giving her what she wanted—what they both wanted?
“You’re too young to even know what love is.” He knew that would start a fight. She’d never stand for such patronizing bullshit. She’d already called him on that kind of behavior once in this conversation. But he also knew if she didn’t leave right now, he’d pull her into his bed and show her that she wasn’t alone in what she was feeling.
She stepped closer to him. “Can you honestly say you view me as your little sister?”
“Yes. Of course,” he lied, because it didn’t matter how he viewed her. They lived in a small town. He couldn’t embarrass his brothers by getting involved with the girl they’d been calling their stepsister. After what his mother had done, and then his father, his brothers had been through enough. They’d finally gained some respect in this community. He wasn’t going to undermine that.
She reached over and turned on the lamp. Then she yanked off the T-shirt she was wearing and tossed it on the floor. “Say it now,” she said, standing before him in nothing but a pair of lacy panties. “Tell me you don’t want to see this, that you don’t want to touch it.”
He couldn’t. He told himself to look away, to look at anything except what she’d j
ust revealed. But it was impossible. Several seconds passed before he could subdue the desire that welled up and nearly choked him. “Put your shirt back on,” he said when he found his voice.
God, when had she pierced her nipples? And who the hell had done it? She was too young for that! But she’d always been wild, and it was partly that edginess that got to him. He wanted to protect her, make her whole. Not that he could act on that desire. It wasn’t his place. Eventually some other man would see her the way he did, and he hoped to high heaven he’d be able to tolerate that when it happened.
He watched her throat work as she swallowed, could tell by the way she set her chin that she was close to tears. “That’s all you’re going to say?” she asked.
What else could he say? That she was perfect? Every bit as beautiful as he’d imagined? That he was only a heartbeat away from taking her into his bed?
He got up to retrieve the shirt so he could hand it to her. He had to cover her up, before he did the opposite and removed the tiny scrap of fabric that was left. Did she have any idea what she’d just done to him? How much more difficult it would be to sleep, now that he had that image of her in his mind?
He didn’t think he’d ever forget the sight of her standing there almost naked, glaring defiantly at him as if she knew in her heart what he wouldn’t say...
“Fine. If you don’t want me, I’ll find someone who does,” she said and, grabbing the shirt he held, stormed out of his room.
Mack felt sick to his stomach. Turning her away had to be hurting him more than it was hurting her. At least, he hoped that was true, because he couldn’t bear the thought of causing her pain.
He almost went after her, but he stopped himself. That would only make matters worse. But he wished he had gone after her when, five minutes later, he heard the roar of an engine outside and the squeal of brakes as she tore out of the drive.
11
Rod dropped India off at her house and told her to pack a few essentials and come through the door off the deck, since she didn’t want his brothers to know where she’d be sleeping. He doubted he and India could keep it secret for long, but he didn’t mind giving her a few nights to get acclimated.