by Anna Argent
It was easy to convince herself that she could help him heal by feeling something—anything—other than grief. She could make him feel good and remember that he was part of the human race. He may not feel for her the things he felt for Janey, but he was still a man. If she wanted to, she could seduce him and make him forget all about his dead fiancée. At least for a little while.
And then what? Once the haze of lust was gone and he realized what she’d done?
Daisy couldn’t see that going well. If he wasn’t ready, he’d be angry at himself for moving on and angry at her for making it happen.
Mark glanced at her mouth and his stare lingered, like he might be thinking even one tenth of what she was.
If she didn’t do something soon, she was going to beg him to fuck her, or confess the love overflowing her heart and ruin everything.
“Let me up, Mark.” She was proud of how steady her voice was. “I’m fine.”
He grudgingly let her go, but not until she was back on her feet and he was convinced she was going to stay that way. His release was a slow caress that left her even needier than she already was.
The man had a way of doing exactly the right thing to make her burn for him—both her heart and her body.
“I’m going to finish wiring the upstairs bedroom.” Because she couldn’t be in the same room with him and not want to be back in his arms. Because if he held her like that again, she didn’t think she’d be able to keep her lips off his.
“I’ll join you.”
It took all of Daisy’s willpower not to groan. She didn’t know how she was going to work side-by-side with him and not touch him, but she had to find a way.
She couldn’t lose any more of her heart than she already had.
Chapter Seven
In just a few days, Mark had seen more progress on the old farmhouse than he had in the last eighteen months. And he had Daisy to thank for that.
Every muscle he had was sore, and he wore more than one nick and bruise from the effort, but not only were they able to finish the wiring and ductwork, they’d also managed to knock out the plumbing in the kitchen as well. With the structural and system work done, all that was left was drywall, fixtures, appliances, flooring and finishes.
He was so worried about her pushing herself too hard that he never strayed far from her side. He’d forgotten how easy she was to work with and what a workhorse she was, plowing through projects faster than he ever could have alone. Men twice as big and strong as her would have had trouble keeping up.
Daisy kept moving, kept their conversation light, and kept his mind focused on something besides all the dark shit that haunted him. And after a few days of not living clenched tight in the grip of depression and grief, he felt like a new man.
He’d even slept without the nightmares, and he knew that it was Daisy’s presence nearby that had made that possible. And while he hadn’t repeated the pansy-assed display of weakness he’d shown her that first night, every time he crawled onto his air mattress, he thought about how good it had felt to wake up with her in his arms.
That memory was his last thought before drifting off to sleep each night.
He handed her tools as she finished connecting the water heater to the main water line.
Down in the basement, there was little natural light. One cracked window high in the wall to the left let in a bit of the waning sunlight, but it was tinted dingy yellow with grime. The single bare bulb operated by a pull string cast deep shadows across the concrete and cinderblock structure.
The beams and rafters were all in good shape, but there were plenty of cobwebs that needed to be cleaned away. Since the room was still full of old doors, windows, boxes and paint cans from the previous owners, he didn’t think that cobwebs were at the top of his priority list.
Daisy stood on a stepstool in the corner so she could reach the top of the heater. Raised up on her tiptoes like that, her pose showed off firm, trim claves beneath her frayed denim shorts. Her leather tool belt hung low on her curvy hips, and did nothing to hide his view of her sweet, round ass.
He stared, drinking in the sight of her and the way it made his blood heat and his skin tingle. Like water to a man dying of thirst, the alluring sight she offered quenched something deep in his soul he hadn’t known was in need.
Her long, straight hair was pulled back in a no-fuss ponytail, gliding down her slender back in a shiny blond wave. He’d never been overly fond of blonds before—preferring the dark, raven-haired beauties like Janey—but on Daisy, he couldn’t imagine anything else. She was just so bright and sunny, that it seemed odd that her hair wouldn’t match her disposition.
“Hand me that wrench?” she asked.
Mark grabbed the tool she needed and brought it to her. With her up high, he was on eye level with her chest. The buttons of her yellow and white checkered top strained to contain her breasts. As he stared, her nipples hardened and puckered against the fabric.
His mouth watered. His tongue quivered behind his teeth, aching to swirl around those tender little buds. He could almost imagine how she might taste with her skin dewy from working—both salty and sweet.
“Mark?” she said, and only then did he realize that she had her hand held out expectantly to receive the wrench. He’d been so busy staring, he hadn’t seen anything past her tits.
He cleared his throat and gave her the tool. Then he turned his back before she could see his erection straining against the front of his work jeans.
It had been too long since he’d had sex. He hadn’t even bothered to get himself off since…when? He couldn’t remember. No wonder he was acting like a teenager gawking at the first pair of tits he’d ever seen.
Maybe now that there was going to be hot water, he could linger in the shower long enough to jack off. Maybe then he wouldn’t leer at the woman who’d driven hours and used her precious vacation days to come and help him fix up this shithole.
Daisy had been his friend since they were kids. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel uneasy around him because he couldn’t seem to keep his dick in check. She deserved better than some sex-starved creeper gawking at her.
From behind him, Daisy let out a bloodcurdling scream of fear.
Mark’s body reacted before his brain caught up with what was going on. He was beside her in seconds, searching for what he needed to kill.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded.
She curled in on herself as if trying to become the smallest target possible. She danced on one foot and pointed to what had terrified her.
A four-foot long blacksnake curled out from behind an old door that had been stored down here in the basement. Unless you were a mouse, they were harmless, but Daisy apparently didn’t know that.
“It’s fine,” he told her in his most soothing tone. His heart was still hammering from the scare she’d give him, and his words were more breathless than they should have been.
“Make it stop.”
“Stop what? It’s not doing anything.”
“It’s crawling!”
A hint of amusement seeped up from somewhere deep down. “Honey, snakes don’t crawl, they slither.”
She was up on tiptoe now, barely balancing on the stepstool.
If Mark didn’t do something, she was going to fall off and hurt herself. With all the concrete and debris down here, there was no safe place to land.
That thought dried up whatever humor this situation had offered and got him moving.
He went to Daisy and lifted her from the stool, holding her up so that her feet didn’t touch the ground.
She wrapped her slender thighs around his hips and held on like her life depended on it.
“Please get me away from it,” she begged him. Her voice was right in his ear, her lips so close he could feel them moving against his skin.
“It can’t hurt you.”
“Please.” She hid her face against his neck and trembled.
Poor thing. Her fear might have bee
n misplaced, but he couldn’t stand to let her suffer for even one more minute.
He supported her bottom on one arm and used the other one to hold her close so he could get her up the stairs. By the time he reached the main level, she was breathing hard and clutching him even tighter.
Mark should have set her down, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. She felt too good curled into him for comfort like this.
No one had needed him in a very long time, and for a man like him, being needed was as important as the blood flowing through his veins. He didn’t realize until this very instant just how bleak his life had been without it.
He stroked her back and rocked her as he murmured soft words of reassurance. She was such a strong, capable woman that seeing her practically in tears tore him up. It didn’t matter that the threat wasn’t real. To her, it was. That was enough for him.
What happened to Janey was a freak accident, his father had told him the last time Mark had called home. You can’t spend the rest of your life alone because of some irrational fear.
Irrational or not, the fear was still real. It still made his blood freeze and his hands tremble. It was still crushing and debilitating.
“It’s okay, honey,” he whispered to Daisy while he stroked her silky hair and quivering back. “I’ve got you.”
He would hold her like this all night if that’s what she needed. She didn’t weigh enough to be a bother, and the feel of her warmth sinking into him, the soft press of her breasts, the gentle caress of her breath across his neck—it was the closest he’d come to home in a long, long time.
Slowly, her tremors subsided. Her death grip on him relaxed. She shifted slightly in his arms, and damn if his cock didn’t take it as a teasing stroke. Lined up right at the apex of her thighs like this, he was bathed in the heat of her pussy.
He had to lift her higher in his arms so she wouldn’t feel his erection throbbing against her.
She raised her head and looked right into him. Tears clung to her lashes. A smudge of dirt darkened her forehead. Her pretty green eyes were no longer haunted by fear, but there was something lurking there—something hidden and vulnerable.
He wanted to know what that secret was so he could hold it close and protect it for her. He wanted to lay claim to her hopes and slay all of her fears. But mostly, he wanted to keep holding her, because with her in his arms like this, he didn’t feel so damn alone in the world. He didn’t feel so fucking sad.
She blinked a few times and sniffed. “I’m okay now. I won’t freak out again. You can put me down.”
It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he couldn’t think of a logical reason why he shouldn’t comply with her wishes.
With a silent sigh of regret, Mark slid her down his body until she was standing on her own two feet.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know my fear is irrational. Dad keeps telling me that if I subject myself to it enough, it will go away. But…”
“There’s no reason at all for you to develop a love for snakes. Not when you have all those brothers around to kill them for you.”
She let out a scoffing laugh. “Yeah, right. Even though they’re grown men now, they’re way more likely to sneak a snake into my bathtub and laugh when I scream than they are to save me from one.”
“Then I guess saving you will be my job.”
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Give me a minute and I’ll work up the nerve to get back down there and finish hooking up the water heater.”
Over his dead body he’d let her down there again for another panic attack. “No need. I can do it.”
The look of relief that rippled across her features was so obvious, it was almost funny. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. You should get some fresh air and relax a bit. When you come back in, the snake will be relocated to a more suitable habitat.”
She nodded. “We’re almost out of coffee. I’ll run to town for a few supplies while you finish battling the beast.”
“And when you get back, you can have the first hot shower.”
She clutched her hands over her heart in mock admiration. “My hero.”
Mark watched her hips sway as she left the house. She’d only been joking with him, but her words had touched a nerve.
He hadn’t been anyone’s hero in a very long time, and until now, he hadn’t realized just how much he missed it.
Chapter Eight
Daisy called her mom as soon as she had enough signal.
Brina Grace answered, her voice bright and cheerful. “Hi, honey! Dad and I were just talking about you. How are you getting along out there?”
“Fine. I just wanted to let you know I was still alive.” Though the snake had been a close call.
“How goes your project?”
“The house is coming along. There’s still a lot of work to do.”
Daisy steered her van over the rutted road leading into town. The gravel path was far too narrow and curvy to be anything but an accident waiting to happen.
“I was talking about Mark,” Mom said.
“Oh. He still needs a lot of work, too.”
Mom made a soft sound of sympathy. “Poor man. He has so much potential. It’s a shame to see him throw it all away like this.”
“He’s not a lost cause.”
“No, of course not.” There was a pause like Mom was going to say something else but held her tongue instead.
Not a good sign.
Daisy pretended like she hadn’t noticed. “We haven’t really talked much. I’ve been keeping my head down, working as fast as I know how so that he won’t have to live in a snake-infested hovel.”
“Why do you sound embarrassed?”
That was Mom—always able to tell what was really going on with one of her kids. “There was a snake in the basement. I freaked pretty hard. Mark got me out of there, but not before I completely humiliated myself.”
Mom laughed. “Did you wet your pants?”
“No.” But it had been a close thing.
“Then you’re fine. I’m sure he won’t hold your phobia against you. And if he does, then it’s more proof that he’s not the right man for you.”
Daisy gripped the wheel tighter. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You’ve had a thing for Mark Cooper since the day you finished puberty. Much to my dismay.”
“Have not,” Daisy lied.
“Honey, please tell me that you’re just lying to me and not yourself, too.”
Mom knew. Mom always knew.
The witch.
Daisy sighed. “He’s hurting, Mom. It’s tearing me up to see him like this.”
“The man lost someone he loved. He needs time. If he didn’t, then it would show he had a serious lack of character.”
“But I need to do something. Fix it.”
“You’re there. Present. He hasn’t kicked you out like he has the last three people who showed up to try to get through to him.”
“Who else came here?” asked Daisy on a sudden surge of jealousy.
“Two of your brothers and your cousin.”
“Which ones?”
“Torin and Declan. Saxon was there a month ago. None of them got past the front door. Everyone is amazed that you were able to do what no one else could.”
Pride flowed through her, and a little dose of superiority. “Are the boys all crying because I won?”
“Your poor sportsmanship is unbecoming. You’re probably still there only because you are a happy force of nature and refused to leave. Mark’s choices were to let you stay or physically throw you out. He’s too good a man to hurt you, so there you are.”
Mom had a point.
“Having boobs doesn’t hurt, either.”
“What?” Mom practically screeched. “Are you letting him use you like that? Sexually? Just because he’s grieving and you have a thing for him does not give him an excuse to—”
“Mom. Stop. He hasn’t touched me.” M
uch to her disappointment.
Silence filled the line for a long time before Mom spoke. “Tell me the truth. How do you feel about him?”
The answer was as easy as it was painful. “I love him.”
Mom sighed. “That’s a rough path to walk, honey. I really want you to think about what this means for you.”
“There’s nothing to think about.”
“Do you remember the night he took another girl to prom? And what about the day you found out that he’d asked Janey to marry him? Do you remember how devastated you were? Because I do. I was the one who held you while you cried. I was the one who watched you mope around for weeks as if someone had died.”
“You weren’t supposed to have figured out why I was upset.”
Mom scoffed. “Sweetheart, please. Of course I knew. It broke my heart then, and I’m afraid that you’re setting yourself up for even more heartbreak now.”
Mom was right, but Daisy couldn’t walk away. Not when the man she loved was hurting. “I have to stay.”
More heavy silence filled the line. “If you’re sure this is what you want—that he is what you want—then you need to listen to me.”
Because Daisy was old enough now to admit that Mom gave pretty decent advice, she said, “I’m listening.”
“You need to find out if he’s broken, or just bent.”
“What do you mean?”
“He loved Janey. I’ve heard from his mother that he still blames himself for her death.”
“It was an accident. No one questions that. She fell when he was out of town.”
“Yes, but he was out having fun with his future father-in-law. He wasn’t there for her. He didn’t save her. That’s a tough thing for a good man to accept. He may not ever be able to forgive himself. And if he can’t, then he’s irrevocably broken. Nothing you can do will change that. His heart will never heal and be whole enough for him to give you what you deserve.”
Daisy refused to believe that was the case. “How can I tell if he’s just bent?” she asked.
“There will be signs.”
“What kind of signs?”
“He’ll show you in little ways that he still wants to live, that he wants to move on, even if he doesn’t know it yet or admit it to himself.”