“Hey, guys. Checking on the schedule for today. We’ve got three hikes scheduled, and a bunch of roofing supplies just arrived for those cabins,” he explained.
Jackson nodded. “The roofing supplies can wait. I’ve got appointments in the clinic today.” He looked at me. “Think you can handle a hike?”
“Of course.”
Lucas looked puzzled. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Got bit by a copperhead last night.”
“Well, damn. Let me see.”
I extended my injured hand forward while I sipped my coffee with the other. Lucas eyed it. The bruising wasn’t pretty.
“Why are you working today?” he asked when he looked up.
“Because I fucking need something to do.”
Lucas, ever unflappable and even-tempered, hitched his brows.
“He’s cranky, and now he needs advice,” Jackson offered, his tone dry.
I glared at him. “I wasn’t looking for group therapy.”
Lucas looked back and forth between us, the barest hint of a smile kicking up one corner of his mouth.
“Hey, you offered me unsolicited advice about Shay, and it was on the money. I can return the favor,” Jackson cut in.
My chest was tight, but I managed to grin as I glanced at them and shook my head. “Well, I guess you two are better than anyone else. What the fuck do I do?”
“Where do things stand?” Lucas asked, getting directly to the point.
I looked at the rabbit, the one creature in the room I didn’t feel would judge me. The rabbit simply stared back, leaning his head into Jackson’s knuckles as he scratched behind an ear.
“I don’t know. Things got pretty intense. I wasn’t sure how to deal with it, so I backed off, and now she won’t talk to me. Dani said Evie thought it was all just fun for me.”
Jackson’s gaze flicked from me to Lucas, and he shook his head slowly. “That’s definitely not good. Unless fun is all you’re after with Evie.”
Lucas’s gaze was sympathetic. Despite that, he was blunt. “What did you expect her to think? Don’t take this the wrong way, but that’s the impression you cultivate. If I didn’t know you the way I do and from dealing with a few life or death emergencies together, I might think you were a shallow guy. I know there’s more to you than that, but it’s something you have to deal with.”
Rolling my head side to side, I glanced at the rabbit again. The rabbit had nothing to offer. “Fuck,” I muttered. Pausing, I drained my coffee. “How do I fix it?”
“You have to tell her how you feel,” Jackson said flatly.
“She’ll barely talk to me.”
Lucas nodded slowly. “You’re just gonna have to keep trying if she means that much to you.”
“I’d make damn sure you’re clear on how important she is to you. I’m not an expert, but it’s not a good idea to string someone along unless you’re clear about how you feel,” Jackson added.
“I love her. I know that much.” I leaned against the wall behind me and sighed, bouncing my heel lightly against the baseboard.
“This shit is not easy,” Lucas said. “Are you sure you should be working today, anyway?”
Glancing down at my wrist, I looked back up. “It hurts, but the last thing I want to do is be bored today.”
Footsteps approached in the hall, and Shay appeared in the doorway. Her blond ponytail swung back and forth as her eyes bounced between us. “Geez, is there a staff meeting I didn’t know about?”
Jackson chuckled, his gaze warming as he looked at her. “No. But Dandy’s owner will be here to pick him up shortly,” he replied, stroking his hand over the rabbit’s back.
“Dandy?” Lucas queried.
Shay smiled. “The rabbit’s name is Dandy.”
“Ah,” Lucas said slowly. “Is Valentina busy?”
Shay’s wide smile was nearly gleeful. “She just finished up a teleconference with one of our suppliers about some accounting discrepancies. You can find her in her office.”
Lucas grinned. “Well, I’d best be going.” Glancing at Jackson, he said, “I’ll take the shorter hike and then rendezvous with you this afternoon to deal with the roofing supplies. Sound like a plan?”
At Jackson’s nod, he left, his footsteps moving swiftly down the hall. A voice called Shay’s name, and she spun away, leaving me behind with Jackson and Dandy.
Knotted up inside, I wanted to ask Jackson if this awful feeling would go away, yet I didn’t have it in me. I sensed I already knew the answer. Unless I could sort this out with Evie, I had a feeling the weight I felt would only grow heavier.
25
Evie
I tipped back my strawberry margarita, taking a long swallow. “All right, boys. Let’s do this,” I said as I set the drink down on the narrow counter running along the wall beside the pool table.
Reaching for the pool stick, I stepped toward the table, glancing around at the balls strewn across the green felt surface.
“You think you can beat that sweet shot?” Wade asked.
“Maybe,” I countered.
Adjusting the stick in my hands, I leaned over and drew back slightly, the cool wood sliding through my palm as I tapped the cue ball. It rolled into another ball, setting into motion my perfectly placed cascade, which ended with a ball slipping neatly into the corner pocket.
Wade whistled under his breath. “Damn. That was good.”
I straightened and smiled. “It was, wasn’t it?”
As I turned to reach for my margarita, my eyes landed on Dawson as he walked across the bar. My smile faded inside, but I kept it plastered on my face. There was no way in hell I was going to let anyone see just how much it hurt for me to see him. Taking a gulp of my margarita, I couldn’t help but notice the female eyes following Dawson through the bar. I had no doubt some of the women looking at him had enjoyed his talents in the bedroom.
I wasn’t bitter. Not at all. I didn’t miss his kisses, the feel of his body warm against me, or that look in his silver-gray eyes. The look that made me feel as if I was the only woman in the world to him.
I drained my margarita and glanced back at Wade who’d just made another sweet shot. “I need another drink. Whoever wants to take my shot can have it.”
I didn’t wait to see what happened, setting my pool stick in the rack and striding to the bar, the heels of my cowboy boots striking loudly on the wide plank flooring underneath.
Leaning against the bar, I lifted my hand to catch the bartender’s attention. Delilah glanced my way as she filled a pint glass with beer. I held up my now empty margarita glass, and she nodded in acknowledgment. After she finished pulling a few drafts for some of the guys on the far side of the bar, she came over to me.
“Another strawberry margarita?”
“Yes, please.”
“Coming right up.”
She turned away, responding to a request from yet another man who approached the bar. I felt Dawson’s presence before I saw him. I took a breath, ordering my pulse not to go crazy, but that was a complete waste of effort. I couldn’t be near Dawson, or even think about being near him, without my body going haywire.
“I was hoping to talk to you,” he said as he stopped beside me. The gruff sound of his voice sent a frisson of electricity chasing down my spine. Part of me was near frantic not to look at him while another part craved the sight of him.
Everything hurt. My heart, my confidence. It was like a physical ache. To make matters worse, I’d hardly slept last night. Another sleepless night on the heels of far too many just like it. Sleep was a cruel tease for me lately. I couldn’t help but worry about him. I’d had to tell myself a few too many times to stop. Restless, I’d climbed out of bed in the middle of the night to look up copperhead bites online.
According to the internet, unless someone was very young or old, they were unlikely to even need medical treatment beyond monitoring—unless they were highly allergic and had an unusual reaction.
As hale and hearty as Daws
on was, I knew that was extremely unlikely, but it didn’t matter. Not deep in the night when my mind lingered on every worst-case scenario possible. The loneliness of nighttime worrying was intense. It felt as if I were truly all alone with nothing to keep my thoughts on a sane track. Worries spun in endless circles.
That explained my irritation when Dawson showed up on my porch the next morning. He wanted to talk after blowing me off for weeks.
With this mash-up of thoughts tumbling through my mind, I stared at him. His dark blond hair was mussed as if he’d run a hand through it a few too many times. Weariness was evident in the lines of tension on his face.
My eyes flicked to his wrist, and I saw the swelling had gone down substantially from last night, but the whole area was discolored in a mottled yellow, green, and purple. My gaze swung up, absorbing the strong lines of his features—that square jaw with a shadow of stubble, and his sensual lips so often tipped into a teasing half-grin. Tonight, there wasn’t even a hint of humor visible in his expression.
“How are you?” I asked.
“I’ve been better. If you’re asking about this …” He paused, lifting his wrist and twisting it side to side. “It’s sore, but that’s it.”
Relief washed through me as I nodded. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I managed. My heart gave an almost painful thump. I wanted to cry.
“I was hoping we could talk,” he repeated, his voice low.
Just then, Delilah arrived with my drink. “Here you go. Put it on your tab?”
Distracted, I looked her way and nodded, then grabbed my drink and took a gulp. Our next interruption came in the form of Sheila Wilkins. She was beautiful with straight dark hair, delicate features, and legs that went on forever.
“Hey, Dawson,” Sheila said, her voice coquettish. She paused beside him, brushing her hair off her shoulder.
I’d gone to high school with Sheila. She’d been the head cheerleader, beautiful, socially deft, and a bit of a bully when she felt like it. She hid it well, but every now and then, her social guard fell. I’d been one of her targets for a brief period. We’d been stuck together in biology class with assigned seating. Unlike other classes, we shared tables with each other in biology. As a result, I hadn’t been able to avoid her.
Unfortunately for me, Sheila was not a great student. When she got caught cheating on a test, and I refused to cover for her, she started mocking me in the locker room. Ninth grade was when my late bloomer stage was at its worst, and only months after Krista had died.
Sheila didn’t even bother to look at me just now. If I could’ve picked a worse time and a worse woman to flirt with Dawson in my presence, I would’ve been hard pressed to find one.
Of course, he knew none of this history because he hadn’t gone to high school with us. I would’ve been willing to bet a million dollars that Dawson had spent more than one night in her bed. Dawson glanced her way, offering nothing more than a tight smile. “Hey, Sheila.”
“Long time, no see,” she said, stepping closer and sliding her hand through his elbow where he had his thumb hooked over the edge of his pocket.
“If you don’t mind, I’m busy right now,” he said, his tone flat and polite.
I purposely looked away because I didn’t want to deal with the look I knew I would see in Sheila’s eyes. I knew I wasn’t the girl I had once been. In fact, I enjoyed flirting, and I didn’t even think I was an ugly duckling anymore.
Yet somehow Sheila lit up every single one of my insecurity buttons. I felt like one of those old giant handheld phone receivers was pinned to my chest, and Sheila had her middle finger on a button smack in the center.
Abruptly, I decided I didn’t want to watch the rest of this interaction. Another thing I understood quite well about Sheila was her tendency to be bitchy and competitive. I had no interest in being on the receiving end of whatever bullshit she might pull if she thought something was going on between Dawson and me.
“I have to go,” I said, turning and walking away as quickly as I could, threading through the tables to the pool table in the corner.
I heard Dawson say my name from behind me, but I ignored it. I needed the safety blanket of an audience to protect me from him trying to pursue a conversation with me right now. Unfortunately for me, he came right over to the pool table after whatever the hell he said to Sheila to shake free from her.
There were enough mutual friends there that I could keep ignoring him, and I did. On my fourth margarita, I missed a shot and lost my balance when I straightened.
“Think you may need to call it a night,” Grace said.
“Why?” I countered.
Grace wasn’t my best friend for nothing. “You’ve had too much to drink.”
I stumbled a little as I tried to step away from the table.
“You’re a little too tipsy now,” she added, her arm sliding around my shoulders as she deftly removed the pool stick from my hands and handed it to someone.
“I can take her home.”
At the sound of Dawson’s voice, I spun to face him, losing my balance and bumping against the wall and back into Grace. Grace lived up to her name and graciously steadied me on my feet.
“I don’t want a fucking ride from you,” I retorted, my words coming out slurred as I wagged my finger at him.
Suddenly, the numbing effects of the alcohol fled, and I almost started to cry. Dawson looked pained, his eyes sweeping over me and convincing me in my drunken state that he might actually care.
“Evie, for God’s sake, you can’t drive,” Dawson replied, his tone so reasonable my emotions swung from pain to anger in a flash.
“Fuck you,” I said, not caring that we had quite the audience, which included most of our friends as well as everyone nearby in the bar.
“Evie, I just offered to give you a ride. It’s not a big deal.”
Dawson started to move away, but I reached out, grabbing for his hand. When I heard his breath through his teeth, I realized I had snatched at his injured hand. “Oh God, I’m sorry.”
Dropping his hand quickly, I stumbled again. Thrown off balance, this time I fell into him. His arms curled around me. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly.
Close to him, I suddenly didn’t want to move. Instead, I let my head fall against his chest. “I’m so stupid,” I muttered. “Why’d you have to go and trick me?”
His hand slid down my back in a soothing pass. “I think we should save this conversation for later,” he murmured, bending low so his mouth was close to my ear.
I nudged my shoulder into his chest. “You’re the one who wanted to talk. So let’s talk.”
“Now’s not the best time. We’ve got an audience. Let me take you home.”
Between the alcohol and the mess of my feelings, just a commotion inside, I couldn’t be reasonable. Not at all.
“No,” I said mulishly. “You’ve been ignoring me.”
I finally looked up at him, and my heart felt split wide open. I thought maybe I’d stitched it together somehow by sheer force of will. But no.
The moment I looked in his eyes, I remembered the look in them when he was buried deep inside me and what it felt like to believe—no matter how foolish—that what we had was something more than just sex.
“Evie,” Dawson began, his voice tight.
Grace cut in. “Evie, honey, I don’t think you really want to do this here.”
I swung my eyes to her and shook my head wildly. “I’m not leaving. He wanted to talk, so we’re gonna talk.”
Then I heard Sheila’s voice. “So the rumors are true?” She stopped beside us, looking from me to Dawson. “You’re in over your head, girl. Dawson is way out of your league.”
“Sheila.” Dawson’s voice held a sharp edge.
She ignored him. Her eyes flicked back and forth between us again. “Her? You can’t even tell me you think she’s cute. She’s—”
I burst out laughing, cutting off whatever she meant to say.
“You fuc
king bitch! That’s rich. All you can do is sleep around. You’ve been doing it for so fucking long all the guys know that’s all you’re good for,” Grace said, leaning forward and pressing her finger on Sheila’s chest. It was glorious. Stepping back, she let her gaze travel up and down Sheila. “Back the fuck off.”
I wasn’t sure what Sheila expected, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t this. She looked around, likely hoping for someone to come to her defense, but no one did.
Her complexion was mottled pink and white when she looked back at Dawson and me. “Whatever.”
Dawson held her gaze. “Sheila, don’t you ever talk about Evie like that again and leave me the hell alone.”
Throughout this interaction, Dawson held me in the shelter of his arms. Somewhere along the way, I had curled my fingers around the hem of this T-shirt and slipped my other arm around his waist. He was warm and strong, and I didn’t want to go anywhere.
Sheila didn’t reply and spun away, her footsteps loud as she strode across the bar.
“Good riddance,” Dani said.
I’d lost track of who all was here. I peered out from Dawson’s arms to see Wade with his eyes tracking Sheila’s progress out of the bar. Jackson was leaning against the end of the pool table with an arm around Shay’s shoulders. Dani had her hands on her hips, her eyes pinned to Sheila as if making sure she actually left.
Grace was still beside me. Her eyes caught mine. “I’m sorry, it had to be said. She was a fucking bitch to you in high school, and she’s been a bitch to plenty others since then. There’s a reason she has no female friends.”
My vision blurred as the tears pressing hot in my eyes finally welled up, and a rough sob came out. Dawson rubbed my back in soothing circles. “Hey, hey, it’s okay.”
Looking up, I saw him glance at Grace as if uncertain what to do. Grace shrugged. “There’s some history there, but I don’t think that’s why she’s crying.”
She stepped closer to us. “I can give you a ride home. Just tell me what you need.” Dawson started to speak, and Grace’s eyes flicked to him. “This needs to be her call tonight,” she said carefully.
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 143