Finding Hope (Nugget Romance 2)

by Stacy Finz

  She kissed his chest, then went up on her toes and kissed his lips. “You want me to live with you?”

  He banged his head against the wall again. “It’s the worst idea ever, but yeah. I do.”

  She pulled him onto the wide-plank floor and sat cross-legged. “Rhys would be really disappointed. He scraped together the money to pay my tuition and housing. It’s really important to him.”

  “Of course it is.” Griffin shut his eyes, pinching the sockets. “Not to mention that he’ll rip out my throat for moving in on his eighteen-year-old sister. Me being twenty-six and all.” He needed the constant reminder of the age difference. In a few years it wouldn’t matter as much, but now the eight years between them may as well have been a gap the size of the Grand Canyon.

  “I want to go to school, but I want you too,” she said, her face so serious that Griffin couldn’t help but smile.

  “What if we set a deadline, like in a year we’ll check back with one another to see where we stand?” He’d die waiting, but it made sound sense, even if nineteen was still ridiculously young. Griffin had already resigned himself to the fact that he was a cradle-robber.

  “I don’t know,” Lina said. “What if you meet someone else?”

  “That’s the risk we’ll have to take. You too. I’d say there’s a better chance of you hooking up with a guy closer to your age than there is of me meeting someone in Nugget.”

  “Does that mean we can’t see each other when I come home for visits?”

  “Of course we can,” Griffin said. “It’s a small town. It would be pretty tough to avoid each other. But only as friends. None of this you-getting-naked stuff.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. “But, Griffin?”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

  “Not to sound condescending, but you don’t know what that feels like yet. Not the real thing, anyway.” He reached over and brushed her lips with a kiss, because if he didn’t keep his mouth busy, Griffin would tell her that he knew exactly what the real thing felt like.

  And it was staring him right in the face.

  Chapter 20

  Clay lay on the couch, one eye shut, when the doorbell rang. He’d gotten home late the previous night from his business trip to Southern California, was up at sunrise to do chores, and would’ve liked a short nap before the boys came home from riding with the Gaitlin kids.

  He got to his feet and cursed the intrusion. “Better be important,” he muttered, walking to the door in his socks. Earlier, Rhys had called about borrowing his riding mower. Clay had promised to leave the key in the mailbox, but had forgotten about it.

  “I’ll be right there,” he yelled, and headed for the mudroom to find the key. But when he opened the front door it wasn’t Rhys standing there.

  “Could I come in?” Russ Johnson was having trouble looking Clay in the eye. “I won’t be long, but I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Then do it on the porch.” Clay searched the immediate property, making sure the boys were nowhere in sight. “And do it quickly.”

  “All right.” Russ eyed a row of rockers and the porch swing. “Mind if we sit down?”

  “Yes, I do. Say your piece, Johnson, then go.” What did the guy think, that Clay would serve him lunch?

  Russ nodded slightly. “I sold Sierra Heights and am leaving as soon as I’m finished here. I came to apologize.”

  “For screwing my wife? Or for killing her?”

  Russ twisted uncomfortably, and not for the first time Clay wondered what Jennifer had seen in him. His hair was thinning, he had a beer gut, and he was nearly a head shorter than Clay. The flashy BMW he drove sat parked in Clay’s driveway and he hoped no one had seen it come up McCreedy Road. The whole town knew that car and Clay didn’t need it driving speculation.

  “For both,” Russ said, and Clay had to give him credit for not trying to candy-coat it. “I shouldn’t have let her drive that night. It’s not an excuse, but I was so drunk I don’t even remember getting in her Lexus. I’ll regret that mistake for the rest of my life.”

  “My sons regret it a hell of a lot more.” He was about to tell him to get the hell off his property when Russ handed him a check.

  “I would like you to set up a trust in Jennifer’s name for the boys.”

  “Look around you, Johnson.” Of all the goddamn nerve. “Does it look like my sons need your blood money?”

  “The point is we both know Jennifer would want them to have it. From her.”

  “But it’s not from her. It’s from you.” The man who stole their mother.

  “When she died, I owed her back pay for her design work.”

  Clay looked at the amount on the check and cocked his brows. “Two hundred thousand dollars?”

  “Look, McCreedy, it should be up to them, not you. Put it in an account for Justin and Cody until they’re adults. Then they can decide whether to keep the money. If not, they can give it to charity—Mothers Against Drunk Driving, or whatever—in Jen’s name.”

  “Or Sons Against Assholes Who Let Their Mothers Drive Drunk,” Clay said, furious.

  He continued to search the horizon for the boys, worried that they would run into Russ if he stayed much longer. With his hands fisted at his side, he said, “You need to go now.”

  Russ made an imperceptible motion with his head and started for the stairs. “For what it’s worth, she dumped me that night. That’s what we were fighting about. She wanted you. I was just a last-ditch effort to get your attention.”

  Was that supposed to make Clay feel guilty? Or better? Because he felt neither. What he did feel was a bone-deep loss for his boys. He watched Russ get into the car and drive away. The check was crumpled in Clay’s right hand. The temptation to tear it up was overwhelming, but he shoved the bank note in his pocket.

  A pair of boots stood against the wall—the ones he’d worn that morning. He put them on and took a walk with no particular direction in mind. After a half hour of wandering aimlessly, he found himself at Emily’s barn. She was carrying a sack of garbage to the trash can. One look at him and she dropped the bag.

  “What’s wrong? Are the boys okay?”

  “Russ Johnson came to see me.”

  “Oh boy,” she said. “Come inside.”

  She poured him a glass of iced tea. He wished she had whiskey so that she could put a shot of that in there too.

  “What did he want?”

  “To say the deal’s final on Sierra Heights, that he’s sorry about Jen, and he gave me a check for two hundred thousand dollars for the boys.”

  Emily let out a little whistling noise. “Wow. I’m not sure what to think about that. Did he leave in one piece?”

  “Yeah.” Not that he hadn’t considered beating Johnson within an inch of his life. But the man had looked so pathetic standing on Clay’s porch that there wouldn’t have been any sport in it.

  “What do I do with this?” He fished the check out of his pocket.

  “It’s for Justin and Cody. You let them decide.”

  Clay let out a harsh laugh. “That’s what he said. I don’t want them to know about him.”

  “You know good and well that Justin already does. Probably Cody too. At least to some extent.”

  “They’ll never need the money, Emily. I have more than they can use in a lifetime.” He didn’t like talking about the McCreedy wealth; it felt crass. But his grandfather had bought grazing land all over California. Some of it they’d sold for a small fortune. Tip, for all his frugal cowboy ways, had been a hell of an investor, and Clay had carried on the tradition. The family portfolio included a lot more than land and livestock.

  “The money’s not meant as a handout, Clay. It’s restitution. And it’s up to the boys to decide what they want to do with it. This isn’t about what you want.”

  “I’m just trying to protect them.” He put the check in his wallet.

  “I know.” She rubbed his arm. It wasn’t meant to b
e sexual, but the sensation of her hand on his bare skin made his body heat. “You’re a wonderful father. The boys love you.”

  “I don’t want their mother’s legacy to be two hundred thousand dollars because she screwed some drunken asshole who’d let her take the wheel.”

  She touched him again, rubbing his back consolingly. “You could save the money for them until they’re older, when they’re better equipped to understand.”

  He knew that was the best solution, but it still bothered him that Johnson thought he could make amends with money.

  “Want some pie? I’m retesting the pecan before I ship off the book.” She’d left him sitting at the bar while she went into the kitchen.

  She had on a pair of black leggings and a striped top that showed off her sweet little figure. Her hair was pulled back into a stylishly messy ponytail with wisps of hair framing her face. He still hadn’t grown used to her new look, but today it made him forget that he was angry with her.

  “Come here for a second,” he called.

  She padded toward him in a pair of ballet-style shoes, not her usual kitchen clogs. He’d never noticed before how dainty her feet were.

  Emily stood before him expectantly and he hooked her around the waist. “Come to bed with me.”

  “Oh, Clay . . . That’s a really bad idea. We’ve already been over—”

  He put his index finger over her lips. “Shush.” She didn’t resist when he carried her into the bedroom.

  “It’s the middle of the day,” she said. “Where are the boys?”

  He loved that she thought about them first. “They’re riding with Amanda’s kids. We’re okay here.”

  “Clay, this is just sex,” she warned.

  How many times had he wished for a woman to say those very words? Now they wrapped around his heart like a vise. Still, he would take whatever she was willing to offer, even if it was without feeling.

  She slipped her hands under his T-shirt, curling her fingers in his chest hair. He tugged the striped top over her head and unsnapped her bra, this time taking the luxury of really looking.

  “You have the prettiest breasts,” he said.

  She chortled. “You liar, Clay McCreedy. You like them big.”

  “You’ve converted me.” He took each one into his mouth, kissing and sucking. “They’re natural and they’re perfect.”

  He pushed her down on the bed and slid the stretchy pants down her legs until they twisted around her feet. Too busy touching and laving her with his mouth, Clay didn’t take the time to untangle them.

  “Once again you’ve caught me with my least attractive underwear on.” Emily lifted her ass so he could pull them down, where they met the same fate as the leggings.

  “Only care what’s under them,” he said.

  She stripped him of his shirt and was working on his belt. Clay got impatient and shucked everything, pressing against her, harder than concrete. They kissed and fondled each other until he thought the pure pleasure of it would give him a stroke.

  “Any more foreplay and I’m gonna explode.” He grabbed a condom, ripped open the package, and suited up.

  As he entered her, a fierce and sudden urge struck him. The instinct so primal and powerful that it rocked him to his core.

  What would it be like to make babies with Emily?

  Emily managed to toe off her pants and underwear so she could wrap her legs around Clay’s waist. He was a large man in every sense of the word, but nothing could describe how good he felt inside her. With every stroke, she could feel the strain of his back muscles, rippling and clenching.

  “This okay?” He kissed her throat, thrusting in and out slowly.

  She held on to his broad shoulders, losing herself in the rhythm of his tender lovemaking. “Perfect. But if you want to get rowdy, don’t let me stop you. I won’t break.”

  He responded with a warm chuckle. “This is good. We’ll get rowdy later.”

  God, this man made her feel things she didn’t want to feel. At particularly weak moments, she thought she might be falling in love with him. She was definitely beyond infatuated.

  He brushed hair off her forehead and held her face with both his hands, rocking into her while he stared into her eyes. “What are you thinking?”

  That I love you. “Mmm,” she moaned, and he continued to watch her as he brought her to climax.

  He stifled her yells with his mouth, kissing her over and over again. Passionate kisses that made her toes curl and heat unfurl in the pit of her stomach. Every one of his touches licked her senses like shockwaves, sending jolts of awareness to her heart.

  The rhythm of his strokes quickened and Clay called out her name, throwing back his shoulders as his own orgasm slammed through him. For a time, he just lay on top of her as they both recovered from the emotional intensity.

  When he tried to redistribute his weight, Emily felt her cheeks get wet with tears. Her tears.

  “Emily?” he asked, wiping a droplet away with the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” There was a hint of confusion in the question because he’d been so achingly gentle.

  “No. I just got caught up in the moment. That’s all.” She tried to wiggle out from underneath him, but he lifted up and pinned her on either side.

  “It’s okay, you know. Nothing wrong with getting emotional.”

  “It was sex, Clay. Sometimes I cry when I’m overstimulated.” Where she’d come up with that one, she’d never know.

  He kissed her eyelids and rolled to the side, trying to read her expression. “You really okay?”

  No. “Of course. That was nice.” Nice? It had turned her inside out. “I’m going to clean up.”

  She grabbed the top sheet, wrapped it around her, and made haste for the bathroom. Get a grip, she chided. As soon as she locked the door, Emily focused on evening out her breathing. Inhale and exhale, she told herself. Instead, everything came out choppy, reminding her of an airplane hitting turbulence. The turmoil in this case was a lot of pent-up feelings coming to the surface. Feelings for Clay McCreedy that she didn’t want to have but couldn’t seem to fight, no matter how hard she tried.

  Knock, knock. The bathroom door rattled. “Emily, come on. What’s going on? You’ve got me all worried.”

  “I’m fine.” She tried to sound normal. “Just need a little privacy.”

  He jiggled the knob. “Unlock the door, baby.”

  “I’m taking a shower,” she called, turning on the water. After staying under the sprayer a good long time, Emily padded into the bedroom wrapped in a towel to find Clay sitting at the edge of the bed, dressed and waiting.

  “I get it now. You’re going cold on me again. Like you did last time,” he said, searching her face for answers. “I must be delusional.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he got up and left the room, calling over his shoulder, “You’re driving me out of my mind, woman. I care so goddamn much for you, and you won’t even try to let me in.”

  Let him in? She’d dug a hole in her heart where he now permanently lived. He’d replaced her nightmares about Hope with erotic dreams. He’d made her want to wake up in the mornings, live for the days, and sleep through the nights. He’d changed everything.

  But instead of telling him, she just stood there, the words choking her, and watched him walk out. The click of the door startled her into action. She quickly gathered up her clothes, got dressed, and ran after him.

  Chapter 21

  Griffin helped Lina load her brother’s truck. The girl had enough stuff to fill his new house. How she’d fit it all in a tiny dorm room was truly beyond him.

  He’d gone to Malibu in hopes of missing a sappy farewell. But he couldn’t help himself; he’d wanted to see her one last time before she left. So he’d booked it home at the last minute. Griffin had even offered to take her. But Rhys had made it clear that that wasn’t happening.

  He’d have to say goodbye from the sidelines with everyone watching. It sucked, but
was probably for the best. Otherwise he might change his mind and beg her to stay.

  With no room left in the truck, Clay was going to fly Maddy and Sam to San Francisco in his fancy plane. Griff had offered to let them use his Range Rover, but Rhys had rejected the offer—pretty ungraciously, if you asked Griffin.

  Whatever. It wasn’t like the guy was in line to be Griff’s brother-in-law. At least not anytime soon.

  “Don’t forget the bed risers,” Maddy shouted at Sam, making her fourth trip to the truck.

  “Hey, take it easy, would you?” Rhys barked at her. Griffin had never seen a guy so freaked out over a baby. You’d think Maddy was giving birth to the heir of England.

  “I’ve got it.” Griff took the load out of her hand and motioned for her to take a load off. “Spare us all from having to hear him growl.”

  “He’s all bark.” She laughed. “No bite.”

  Griffin seriously doubted that, especially when it came to him. Lina brought the risers, looking ruffled. Although she hadn’t said it, he’d detected that she was nervous about leaving home.

  “What if I don’t have enough room for everything?” she asked Maddy.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll organize everything. We could always leave some of it at Nate’s house.”

  Maddy’s brother managed a string of hotels in the city and came up a couple times a month to help his sister with the Lumber Baron. Griffin had met him a few times and thought he was a stand-up guy. He suspected that Nate knew that he and Lina were more than pals, but as far as Griff could tell, he’d kept it to himself.

  “Did you guys buy the whole goddamn store?” Rhys tried to get the last of the luggage in the bed of the pickup, having to rearrange a half dozen Bed Bath & Beyond bags.

  “Just ignore him, Lina,” Maddy said, coaxing a smile out of her sister-in-law.

  “Seriously, what’s in these bags? You’d think she was moving to the bush, not to a major city.”

  “She won’t have a car, Rhys.”

  He shook his head. “You can beg Clay to take on his plane whatever doesn’t make it into the Ram.”