by Brenda Novak
Life’s always been one day at a time...
For years, her life had been like that, too. Until Charlie. Charlie had changed everything. He’d given her peace of mind, security, financial stability, even respectability. She’d be a fool to go back to the lifestyle she’d had before. Which meant she had to be decisive and cut off whatever she was feeling for Rod—while she still could.
But that wouldn’t be easy...
She pressed her face into the towel he’d used and breathed deeply to catch the scent of him. She loved the way he smelled, the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he touched. Just being in his space was somehow gratifying. She remembered wanting to touch his clothes and bedding when she’d brought over those cookies and had known even less about him.
Too bad the kind of man her heart wanted wasn’t the kind of man she needed. That’d been the case in every instance except Charlie. And she probably wouldn’t have given Charlie a chance if she hadn’t come to know him slowly. By the time he’d asked her out, she’d had no reservations about him...
“Rod?”
India froze. When Rod left, she hadn’t thought to lock the bedroom door, and someone had come in. The voice was that of a female, but it wasn’t Theresa.
“Rod?” A knock sounded on the bathroom door. “Can I catch a ride with you?”
India felt trapped. She didn’t even have her clothes. Her pajamas and overnight bag were still in the bedroom.
She wished she could pretend she wasn’t there, but she’d just flushed the toilet and turned off the tap. Whoever it was would’ve heard that, which was why this person assumed Rod was home. India had no choice except to speak up. “Rod’s already gone,” she said.
There was a long silence. Then, “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t realize he had a...er...company.”
“No problem.” India held her breath and listened, but she didn’t hear Natasha—at this point, she figured it had to be Rod’s stepsister—move away.
“Theresa, is that you?” Natasha asked uncertainly.
Grabbing Rod’s towel, India wrapped it around herself even though she was the one who had control of the lock. She felt so foolish, and being naked made it worse, even if there was a wooden panel between them. “No, it’s...India.”
“India?”
Shit... “Yes. India Sommers. I live next door.” She almost followed up with some excuse for being in Rod’s room—like the water was shut off at her place, so Rod had given her permission to take a shower—but her pajamas were lying on the floor by the bed. The condom wrapper could also be there. Whatever excuse she attempted to offer would look pretty lame.
“Oh,” Natasha said. “I’ve been hoping to meet you. I should’ve come by.”
Now, to their mutual embarrassment, an introductory visit wouldn’t be quite the same...
“Anyway, welcome to the neighborhood,” Natasha went on. “Not that it’s really a neighborhood, but you know what I mean.”
India took a deep breath. “I do. Thanks.” She thought that would be the end of it. That she’d be able to dress and get the hell out of there. But Natasha still didn’t go.
“Listen, since you’re up...would you mind giving me a ride to work? I wasn’t feeling too good last night, so the guys figured I wouldn’t be going in.”
India tightened her towel. It was a little odd that this girl would ask a favor of someone she’d just met. However, according to Rod, she’d had to shift for herself in the past, so maybe it wasn’t too unusual. Besides, this was Whiskey Creek. And they were neighbors.
“Sure,” India replied. “I can do that.” But she couldn’t go anywhere as she was. “Would you mind handing me that bag out in the bedroom?”
“Oh, of course not,” came the response. “Do you want the pajamas, too?”
Her underwear was tangled in her discarded sleepwear. That was the last thing she wanted Natasha to see—well, other than the condom wrapper. She could only hope Rod had taken care of that. “No! I mean, that’s okay. I’ll grab what’s left on my way out. I only need the bag.”
“Right. I see it.” There was some rustling before Natasha said, “Here you go.”
When India cracked open the bathroom door, she saw a girl with short, bleached hair styled with plenty of mousse, wide brown eyes and an oversize, expressive mouth—the girl whose photo Rod had shown her at the ice cream parlor. She was wearing a short stretchy black skirt and a tank top—an outfit that made the most of her slim figure and revealed the tattoos on her long, slender arms. There were some tattoos on her feet, too, which India could see because Natasha was wearing sandals.
Their eyes met, and they both smiled politely. “Thanks.”
Natasha backed out of the room. “I’ll get my purse and be waiting in front.”
“See you in a sec,” India said.
The moment Rod’s stepsister left, India closed the bathroom door and leaned against it. “Awkward!” she whispered to herself. Then she hurried to dress. She brushed her hair, as well as her teeth, and washed her face. This wasn’t the way she wanted to meet Rod’s family, but what could she do?
Once she was ready, India took the food Theresa had brought so it wouldn’t go to waste and let herself out via the deck entrance to avoid running into Rod’s father or his father’s wife. “Running into” Natasha had been bad enough.
When India came around to the drive, Natasha was there as promised. “Ready?”
With a quick nod, Rod’s stepsister followed her over to the Prius. India had locked her house the night before and didn’t need to go inside. She put her bag and Theresa’s basket in the backseat, thinking she’d carry them in when she got home. The sooner she dropped Natasha off, the better. Then she could go about setting her world back on its axis.
“Rod told me you’ll be leaving for college at the end of the summer,” India said as they put on their seat belts.
Natasha stared out the window while India started the car. “Actually, I’m trying to make arrangements to go as soon as possible.”
“Before school begins?”
“Might as well.”
“Why? Do you have a job waiting for you?”
“No.”
Then wouldn’t it be smarter to stay here and earn what she could? India thought so, but it wasn’t her place to give advice. “I’m sure you’re excited.”
“Of course. I’m thrilled.”
The sarcasm was as unmistakable as it was unexpected. India glanced over, but Natasha wouldn’t look at her, so she said nothing.
They made small talk—mostly on India’s end—while they drove. If Natasha spoke, it was only to give directions or answer a question, which she did as briefly as possible.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said as they turned in at Amos Auto Body.
The shop looked like a respectable business. The property was large, and Rod and his brothers obviously took care of the building. A fair number of cars were waiting to be fixed.
India had assumed Rod would be on his way to Bakersfield, but he wasn’t gone yet. She was startled to find him standing in the lot with his truck idling and his door open, talking to someone who resembled him a great deal but wasn’t Grady or Mack. He glanced up when she parked, and his jaw dropped.
“Forget something this morning?” Natasha snapped as soon as she got out. Then she stalked into the office.
Rod didn’t respond to his stepsister. He and the man he’d been talking to walked over to India’s car and waited for her to lower the window.
Even without being introduced, India knew she was about to meet Dylan Amos. There was something about his confidence that indicated he was in charge.
“Dyl, this is India, our new neighbor,” Rod said.
Dylan gave her a nod. It would’ve been awkward to shake hands while she was in the car.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Same here,” she said.
“Did you know that my wife used to live in your house?” Dylan asked, shading his eyes against the sun.
“No one’s mentioned it,” she replied.
His smile widened. “I have good memories of that place.”
“Have you been inside since the renovations?” she asked.
“No, I see these guys enough at work,” he replied. “I don’t get over there too often anymore.”
“Feel free to come by,” she told him.
“I will. And I’ll bring Cheyenne, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
Dylan gestured toward the office. “How’d you get roped into giving Natasha a ride? Don’t tell me she had the nerve to go bang on your door when she could’ve called one of us.”
“No...”
He gave her a questioning look, since that obviously didn’t explain how she’d ended up in the service of his stepsister.
Rod seemed to be anticipating, with some relish, watching her squirm out of this tight spot. So she decided she wouldn’t even try.
“I was sleeping with your brother,” she announced. “All she had to do was come to his room.”
Rod coughed as Dylan’s eyebrows shot toward his hairline. “Unashamed and unapologetic,” Dylan said with a certain degree of shock. “I like that.”
“That’s not how I would’ve preferred to meet her,” India clarified. “But sometimes things happen.”
“True. We all know Rod’s pretty much irresistible.” With a chuckle, he clapped Rod on the back. “Hey, bro, you might have your hands full with this one,” he said and went back to the office.
Rod leaned on her window ledge, resting his cast on top of the car. “I guess you’re not very good at keeping a secret, huh? What are you trying to do, ruin my reputation?”
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused him.
“Don’t blame me,” he said in mock outrage. “You’re the one who just announced that you were in my bed.”
“Your sister came in right after you left!”
“My stepsister.”
“Does the step part really matter?”
He looked up as Mack came charging out of the office, got in his truck and slammed the door. “It might to some people,” he said as he watched his brother tear off.
India scowled. “To you?”
“No. Definitely not to me,” he said, returning his attention to her.
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m confused.”
“Never mind. It’s nothing.”
“Fine,” she said. “Be cryptic. Anyway, I doubt last night would’ve remained secret after Natasha mistook me for you and came to ask for a ride.”
He laughed as he kicked a small pebble across the lot. “So we’ve been found out. Does that mean you can come through the front door tonight?”
She sobered immediately. “Rod...”
His smile disappeared, too. “Don’t say it.”
“I have to say it. I can’t let what’s happening between us...happen.”
“Why not? Because I’m not a heart surgeon?”
She couldn’t tell him that her in-laws would look at him that way even if she didn’t. “No, of course not. I’m just not ready. Like I said.”
“That’s bullshit. I felt how ready you were last night.”
She closed her eyes. “Don’t do that.”
“Why? Because you don’t like facing the truth?”
“Because wanting you and being able to be with you are two different things!”
“You’re not doing Charlie any favors by denying yourself, India. Stop running!”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t see you again,” she told him and backed out of her parking space before he could see how reluctant she’d been to say those words.
14
India felt anxious walking into her house; she knew Sebastian could be waiting for her during the day just as easily as at night. On the drive home from the auto body shop, she kept an eye out for any cars that looked as if they didn’t belong and walked the entire perimeter of her house with a tire iron before venturing inside.
After being shut up, her place was a lot warmer than outside, especially this time of morning, but the heat wave seemed to be dissipating. Thank goodness. Maybe she wouldn’t sweat so much when she worked today.
Setting down her keys, she leaned on the counter to stare out the window, toward Rod’s house. But obsessing over him wasn’t helping. She’d done the right thing a few minutes ago. She knew that, and yet...it wasn’t what she really wanted.
She thought it might strengthen her resolve if she could speak to Cassia, but her in-laws always acted so odd when she asked either one of them to put her daughter on the line. They usually had an excuse—she was out with Papa in the garden, she was in the bath, she was doing the dishes with “Mimi,” which was what she called her grandmother. India suspected Cassia asked to talk to her, too, and was given similar excuses. Claudia was afraid Cassia would realize how much she missed her mother and ask to come home. Claudia liked to pretend that she was all Cassia needed and that Cassia never complained about being there or begged for Mommy, even though that would be perfectly normal behavior for a five-year-old child.
India considered calling and insisting, if necessary. But she decided that might only make the situation more difficult. She couldn’t bring Cassia to Whiskey Creek if it would put her in danger, so there was no need to push. Not yet.
First she had to make sure her house was safe.
After putting on coffee, she ate some of the breakfast Theresa had prepared for Rod. Then she logged on to her computer and began searching for nearby alarm companies. She doubted she could get a security system installed today. Not where she lived. But, with any luck, she could arrange it for the next week or so.
Then she’d call and talk to Cassia.
* * *
When Dylan called for the third time, Mack finally used his Bluetooth to answer.
“Where the hell are you?” his brother demanded.
Slinging one hand over the steering wheel, Mack sank farther into his seat and looked around. “Jackson,” he said, paying attention to his surroundings for the first time since he’d peeled out of the Amos Auto Body lot.
“Why?” Dylan asked. “You’re supposed to be painting Sandra Morton’s car. She’s coming to pick it up tomorrow morning.”
Mack released a sigh. He was still wearing his paint suit and didn’t have a good excuse for driving off—at least not one he intended to share with his brother. “There was...something I had to do.”
“Like...”
“None of your business,” he snapped.
Dylan went silent. He wasn’t used to having Mack respond like that. Not these days. Not any days. Unlike Aaron, Mack had always worshipped his oldest brother—and always been favored by him.
“Are you okay?” Dylan asked at length.
Mack couldn’t say he was. He seemed to be losing his mind. Natasha was all he could think about, and his thoughts were becoming ever more sexual. When she was younger, he could distract himself from the attraction he felt—by helping her do homework, seeing that she had someone to socialize with on the weekends so she wouldn’t feel left out by the kids who weren’t accepting her, teaching her how to throw a ball. Her mother had done nothing to provide her with any life skills. He was the one who’d tried to teach her how to cook. Although he could grill like there was no tomorrow, he wasn’t particularly adept in the kitchen. But he’d bought several cookbooks and muddled his way through trying to impart the basics. She’d been more interested in cooking than some of the other stuff he’d attempted to introduce her to. Like when he convinced her to sign up for dance classes
and drove her over to the studio a few times. She quit that almost right away. He suspected it was because he wasn’t going with her. But she liked chess. They’d played a lot over the past year, and he’d taught her so well he could no longer be assured of winning. Occasionally, she kicked his ass and took great pleasure in doing so.
But those days of being easily satisfied were over. She didn’t need him in that way anymore. She was an adult and could handle most tasks on her own; she’d even taught him a thing or two on the computer. Now all he could think about was how badly he wanted to touch her. And after what she’d done last night, tearing off that T-shirt and letting him see her bare breasts, all he had to do was remember and he’d grow hard.
“Are you and Natasha having some sort of fight?” Dylan asked. “If you are, maybe you should come back and talk to her about it. Did she say something nasty to you? Her tongue can get sharp. I won’t argue with you there. But you know what her life’s been like.”
Did Dylan know what his life was like right now—because of her?
“Natasha and I are getting along fine,” he said. The last thing he wanted was for Dylan to learn how he felt, what he was battling. His obsession was too embarrassing to admit, especially when he could have just about any other woman he wanted. With so many to choose from, why did he have to be fixated on Natasha?
Fortunately, since Natasha had come to live at the house, Dylan had been preoccupied with Cheyenne and Kellan, and the business. Aaron was totally immersed in his little family, too. Otherwise, one or both of them would probably have noticed, the way Rod had. Grady was oblivious to almost anything that didn’t directly concern him, so Mack wasn’t as worried about him. Sometimes he wondered if Anya knew, but if so, she would’ve told J.T, who’d never said anything. Mack figured he still had a chance to get clear of this thing with no one, other than Rod, being the wiser.
Except that Natasha wasn’t giving up without a fight. She could tell he wasn’t immune to her, could tell he felt more than he should, and she was pushing him, testing his limits. He wouldn’t have left work this morning if she hadn’t caught him in the back room while he was suiting up and put her hand around to grab his junk.