Unearthed

by Ann B. Morris

  There. Now, he felt better.

  Miss Bernice was due for her weekly cleaning today. He’d leave her an additional twenty for the mess he’d made. He’d ask her to pay an extra visit to GrammaU. No sense sending her to his old man because the only time he let her in was when Beck was with her, and he didn’t take no from the old fart. He’d check on the reprobate on his way out of town.

  He stuck his head under the faucet again. The world wasn’t exactly steady under his feet yet, but at least it wasn’t tilted ninety degrees. The business meeting he had later this morning, with the guy who might sell him the property he needed, came to the forefront.

  A fresh pot of coffee would help start the morning off right. He put the coffee on to brew and made it down the hall to the shower without missing a step. Even in his condition, he could appreciate a small miracle.

  Thirty minutes later, one cup of coffee in his stomach and another in his stainless-steel thermos in the truck’s cup holder, he headed west on I-10.

  ****

  When Beck arrived at his father’s house, he saw the old man sound asleep in the lounge chair, an empty whiskey bottle on the floor next to his bare feet. Beck put a hand to the old man’s forehead. No fever. He shook the bony shoulder. The old man snored louder. He had figured right. GrammaU had tricked him into stopping by before work just to visit.

  He left a note for the old man, telling him he’d be back in a day or two and to call if he needed something before then. Then, he hit the highway again to attend a business meeting not far from the proposed construction site feeling at least he’d done his duty.

  The meeting went better than Beck expected, and by two o’clock, a solid lunch under his belt, he headed back toward home. He didn’t remember making the decision to detour, but he found himself on the state highway instead of the Interstate. Where he was headed was against his better judgment. He also knew he was powerless to stop himself. After he pulled up beside Alex’s car, he waited until he spied the familiar baseball cap before he got out of the truck.

  She stood near a long table, flanked on either side by her students, none of whom seemed aware of his arrival. Then, as if they were connected by an invisible thread, Alex glanced in his direction when he took his first step toward her. For a fleeting moment she looked at him and then went back to what had held her attention before she noticed his arrival. He continued in her direction, willing his stomach to keep from hurling the meal that suddenly seemed heavy as lead.

  He took the time to look over the group while he approached them. The jerk wasn’t in sight. A quick survey of the area didn’t produce the asshole either and Beck’s heart, as well his step, lightened. But not by much. He still had to face Alex. He stopped a few feet from the table.

  Several students looked up but quickly turned their attention back to their professor who wrote in a journal as she answered questions.

  Beck waited a few awkward seconds, willing her to look his way. She didn’t. Resolutely, he walked to the closest tree and propped himself against it, prepared to wait as long as it took for her to acknowledge his presence.

  Thirty minutes later, Alex dismissed the group, put the journal and a few plastic bags in a briefcase, snapped the briefcase shut, and took her time walking over to where he still slouched.

  He rolled the grass he held between his teeth to the corner of his mouth. When Alex was close enough to hear, he said, “I guess you’re surprised to see me.”

  She didn’t answer, just kept walking toward him.

  When she stopped near enough for him to get a good look, he spat out the grass and worked hard to find something to say. He worked harder still to keep from putting out a hand and touching her. She looked bad before, but not this bad. Her face was pale, and the circles beneath her eyes were so dark they looked like bruises. He was certain she hadn’t closed her eyes at all the night before. “What’s wrong? You look like death warmed over.”

  She gave him an icy look. “Had I known you were stopping by I would have made certain I looked better.” She gave him a weak smile. “I seem to remember a promise that I’d never see you again. Your being here can only mean more bad news.”

  Her shoulders slumped, as if the last bit of her strength had just been sucked away. Still, she didn’t turn away. That inaction said something, didn’t it? Regardless, this admission would be a hell of a lot harder than he thought. Fucking harder than anything he’d ever done in his life. “I came to apologize for last night.”

  “That’s not necessary. You weren’t the only one at fault. But I’d rather we left things as they are.” She took a step back. “I’m in a hurry to finish here.”

  Damned if she’d leave him standing there with the biggest apology he’d ever handed to anyone hanging in the air. Damned if he would leave until he found out what was wrong. “Please.” Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or maybe she could feel his sincerity when he put his hand lightly on her shoulder that accounted for her expression. A look that meant, Okay I’ll let you get this off your chest.

  Then, she sighed. “Let’s hear it. Let’s have your apology. And no doubt, it will be eloquent. You should be expert at apologies by now.”

  He ignored the dig and made himself say again, straight from the heart, “I’m sorry. Very sorry for the way I acted last night. Running out like that and saying what I did.” He swallowed hard. “So now, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

  She looked at him directly. “Did you come back to the cabin last night?”

  A frown creased his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

  “I want to know if, for whatever reason, you returned last night.”

  “No, I didn’t. Why? Do you…?” A sudden realization hit. She hid something. “Did something happen last night after I left?” The frightened look on her face was answer enough. “Did somebody try to break in?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I heard something, and I saw a footprint in the mud this morning.” She stopped abruptly. Tears welled in her eyes.

  He didn’t think she was the kind to cave over a trivial matter. Whatever happened was probably just one thing too many on top of everything she’d been through, lately. “What do you mean you saw a footprint?”

  “The indentation looked like a smeared footprint in the wet mud. But the print was probably from an animal.”

  If what she saw even resembled the footprint of a two-legged animal, that possibility was enough for him. “In any case, you’re not staying alone tonight. You’re coming home with me.”

  She waved her open hand in refusal. “No way.”

  He didn’t miss the quick flash of relief in her expression, though. She probably would give him a hard time, but he wouldn’t back down, and he suspected she didn’t really want him to. Again he leaned against the tree, his arms folded across his chest. “Very well. If you won’t come home with me, I’m going home with you.”

  ****

  How was it, Alex wondered, as she stepped inside the cabin Thursday evening with Beck on her heels, that one hour ago she was so tired she was about to drop, and now she was so energized she was worried she’d never sleep again.

  Her question was a figurative one, because she already knew the answer. Whenever Beck St. Romaine was within six feet, every nerve in her body went wild. He stimulated her in all the worst, and all the best, ways. She could hardly believe the effect he had. Or that she’d felt this way almost from the first instant she saw him.

  She was off-kilter whenever he was around. One minute she wanted him to kiss her so badly she could hardly stand it, and the next minute when he obliged, she was so frightened by the effect he had, she thought she’d die. Now here he was, planning to spend the night. The whole night as her bodyguard.

  Which brought up new problems and more questions. Safe as she would be tonight in one respect, how safe would she be in another? What if he came on to her again? Not that she was afraid he would overpower her against her will. No, she wasn’t at all afraid of h
is will. Her will was what she feared.

  She stole a quick glance, still unable to believe he was really here. To believe in less than one week he had done what no other man in five years had even come close to doing. He made her feel like a woman again. Against her will that was weakening so fast she was frightened.

  And although she found him to be the most obstinate, arrogant man she had ever met, she also found him impossible to resist. She wanted him here. Just being around him made her feel safe. He was the first truly alpha male she had ever known.

  An alpha male that had just let out a triumphant cry, because, after rummaging in the cabinet under the sink, he’d found a large cast iron skillet. An alpha male who, after promptly setting the pan on the stove, continued his search until he turned up a slightly rusted, very much out-of-shape aluminum pan to hold the frozen French fries he’d bought.

  She shook her head and smiled to herself. Go figure.

  After Beck emphatically stated his intention to accompany her home, he’d left his truck parked at the site, declaring he’d heard an engine noise he didn’t like and didn’t want to risk their being stranded. Then, he’d gathered the items she was taking home, held out his hand for her car keys, and, like a gentleman, escorted her to the passenger seat. After which, on their way to the cabin, he’d stopped at a store where he bought two steaks, the frozen fries, milk, bread, and a bottle of expensive wine.

  As if that wasn’t enough, before pulling away from the grocery store, he’d turned to her. “Just in case you’re worried about me taking advantage of you, don’t be. Since I was thirteen, I’ve never forced my attention on a woman, and I don’t intend to start now.”

  At his candid admission, she’d blushed, remembering all too well he hadn’t had to force his attention on her, either. That she’d been all too willing to give in to his charm until she realized just how close she was to surrendering more of herself than she could spare. Now, here they were, alone together in the middle of nowhere.

  “How do you like your steak?”

  While she’d been ruminating, he’d been busy at the stove. “Medium well.”

  He uncorked a bottle of wine and reached for two glasses.

  Alex grabbed the bag with the milk and bread, put the milk in the refrigerator, the bread in the middle of the table, and the empty bag in a drawer. “None for me,” she said quickly, before he filled the second glass.

  He filled the glass anyway and held it out.

  Her heart pounded. She shook her head. “I told you, I don’t drink.”

  “Everybody drinks. Just take a few sips to relax. I can tell you’re tight as piano wire.”

  She wrapped her arms around her waist and gave him a shaky laugh. “You play the piano?”

  He turned up the fire under the steaks, slid the pan with the fries in the oven, lifted his own glass to his mouth, and took a swallow. He passed his tongue over his lips and took another swallow. Then he looked with a narrowed gaze. “Are you playing games again?”

  Her stomach knotted. “No, I am not playing games. I never play games where alcohol is concerned.” In the next instant, she ran down the hall with Beck following. She made it into the bedroom, closed the door behind her, and pressed her back against it. She felt trapped.

  A knock sounded on the door. “Did you sit up here all night?”

  He must have seen the chair with the quilt draped over its arm. Now, he knew just how frightened she’d been.

  Beck knocked on the door again. Hard. “Alex, open up. The steaks will burn, but I’m not leaving until you open this goddamn door.”

  She opened the door with a firm grip, but she didn’t motion him in. Neither did she make any attempt to downplay what she had to tell him. “I don’t drink. I’m a recovering alcoholic,” she said without emotion then stomped past him out of the room. In the middle of the kitchen, she turned and faced him just as he crossed the threshold. “If having to drink alone is too much for you to handle, I can understand. But if it’s not, please don’t offend me again by accusing me of playing games when I say I don’t drink.” She choked back any hint of tears, refusing to cry in front of him.

  Beck walked past her, picked up both glasses of wine, and poured them, as well as what remained in the bottle, down the sink. He turned off the fire under the steaks and took the still-frozen fries out of the oven. Then he held out his arms. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

  Without a second thought, she walked straight into his embrace.

  “Do I rightly remember you saying this is a bad time of year for you?”

  The question was so filled with tenderness, tears filled her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered into the folds of his shirt. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop the tears.

  Crying wasn’t her usual way of coping with difficult situations. She was a strong woman. A woman who had overcome many difficult personal and professional hurdles with dry eyes. A woman who had endured those difficulties without help from anyone, especially not from a man. More times than she could count in the past few years, the pain of the greatest loss of her life overwhelmed her, and her tears remained unshed. But now, she knew intuitively that the shoulder of a compassionate man like Becker St. Romaine was a safe place to shed those tears.

  He slipped his arms around her, pulled her close, and held her while she cried. When she finished, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her down and covered her with the quilt. Then he pressed his lips against her forehead. “Rest,” he said. “You need sleep more than food right now. I’ll be here if you need me.” He walked to the door, opened it, and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Even though she had revealed so much about herself, she felt relieved.

  Darkness had already fallen when Alex woke. A thin stream of light filtered through the partially open door. A sound came from the kitchen. Her first reaction was to hold her breath then she exhaled a sigh of relief when everything came rushing back. She remembered Beck coming out to the site, after he’d vowed never to see her again, and how determined he’d been that she not spend the night alone.

  She closed her eyes and tried to give in to sleep again now that Beck was here and she was safe. Instead, she slipped out of bed and tiptoed quietly into the bathroom, sneaking a peek down the hall before she closed the door. Beck wasn’t in plain sight, but she could hear him whistling softly in tune with the radio.

  Back in bed, she marveled at how cool the nights were away from the ambient heat of civilization, and how peaceful she felt with the stars for a roof and the pine trees for neighbors. Sighing contentedly, she slipped lower under the covers and waited for sleep to overtake her once more. She could sleep for a week.

  She was just about to cut the thread with consciousness when a fleeting thought took hold, and she remembered everything again. This time, though, what she remembered was what transpired after they’d arrived at the cabin.

  She’d told Becker St. Romaine, this man who had stormed his way into her life just seven days ago, that she used to be a drunkard. Telling him had been hard. Would adding one more name to the list of people who knew what she had been get any easier? What she had done? She’d told him the truth.

  But only part of the truth.

  The door creaked. Beck stepped into the room.

  Turning her face to the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut then felt his weight on the bed.

  “Are you all right?”

  He had lowered his voice before, but she had never heard it so compassionate. Her heart ached. Another time, another day, another life, and she would have lifted the covers and invited him under them.

  “Are you hungry?”

  His voice was still low and filled with concern. “No.” She was hungry, but she didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to have to face him. Not yet. “I’m sorry I ruined supper.”

  He chuckled. “You ruined yours, babe. I ate mine.”

  Babe. He’d called her babe. Not lady, or that insulting baby that made h
er want to grit her teeth when she heard it used on other women. But babe. She liked the sound of that. Babe sounded sexy…and intimate. “What time is it?”

  “Almost eleven.”

  “Eleven?” Already? She shook her head. “I slept longer than I thought. I’m sorry.”

  He brushed back the hair from her forehead.

  His touch was as gentle as his tone. What a complicated alpha male he was.

  “Nothing to be sorry for. That’s why I’m here. So you can sleep.”

  She turned to look at him. Backlit by the light streaming in through the fully open door, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen in her life. If only this were another life. She didn’t want to look away, but she couldn’t keep staring. “Will you sleep?”

  “Don’t worry about me. Tonight won’t be the first all-nighter I’ve pulled.”

  She was certain he told the truth. He’d probably spent many a night—all night—in some woman’s bed—a woman who was all too willing to be the woman he needed. If only she could be such a woman. But she wasn’t and likely would never be. “Later, if you like, you could come and lie here beside me.” The invitation was daring.

  Beck sighed. “You’re too tired to know what you’re saying.” He passed his hand gently across her forehead.

  Yes, she was very tired. But she did know what she said. She took her hand from beneath the covers and patted the other side of the double bed. “Promise me, if you get real sleepy, you’ll get a quilt from another bed and stretch out right here beside me.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  She could feel herself going under fast. She couldn’t move her body even if her life depended on it. But she could still move her lips and whispered, “Promise me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Beck would never have guessed Alex had a drinking problem just because she’d refused a glass of wine. If he’d had any idea, he wouldn’t have made such an issue of her refusal, but he’d always been short on social skills. And shorter on sensitivity. In his own defense, though, he’d never met an educated, self-reliant boozer before. All the ones he’d known had been low on either intelligence or common sense.