“Do you think you’re fun?” The teasing quality of the conversation skated on something darker and more serious.
“I used to be fun. I think.”
“When’s the last time you went and hung out?”
He looked to the ceiling as if doing math in his head. “I met my cousin Landrum down at The Rivershack Tavern to shoot pool.”
“When?”
“Last summer maybe? And Wyatt forced me out of the house this winter.”
Although she’d shed her society-maven designation after her divorce, she at least put forth an effort to socialize, even if she faked her fun more often than not. “We should go out and cut loose.”
His gaze streaked to hers, his brows scrunched. Only then did it hit her that her suggestion sounded a lot like she’d asked him out on a date.
“You, me, Wyatt, Jackson, Willa. The whole gang. Out. Having fun. And stuff.” Her words came out choppy and too fast.
“I know what you meant,” he said.
Did he? Because when she’d said it, a picture flashed of the two of them locked in a version of dirty dancing. “I need to stretch my legs and experience something besides fluorescent light.”
“If you walk straight back in the woods behind the barn, you’ll come to a path. It’s a nice peaceful stroll down to the river.” He turned to the side to allow her to exit.
She nodded and slipped by him. The back of her hand brushed the cotton of his shirt. Goose bumps erupted along her arm. Forcing herself not to look back at him, she pushed through the door at the back of the shop. Peace was exactly what she needed. Or maybe what she needed was a night—no, a solid twenty-four to forty-eight hours—with her vibrator.
She skirted around the barn and strolled past the half-dozen junked cars Wyatt had dubbed the Graveyard. They harvested parts for projects until eventually, they sent the shells off to the junk yard. The abandoned cars filled her with an odd melancholy. The hunks of unfeeling metal had been someone’s pride and joy at some point. They had carried men and women and families through years, and here they sat, abandoned and picked apart.
She focused on the very alive trees and kept walking. What had happened to Grayson’s Jeep? Did it sit in a field, decomposing and overtaken by grass and kudzu, until it was part of the landscape? A twinge of grief made her eyes misty, blurring the tree line into an impressionistic rendering of browns and greens.
A narrow path covered in brown needles and crunchy leaves cut through the pines, and she passed from sun into dappled shadows. The smell of pine and the river mingled pleasantly. She kept on the overgrown footpath, the sound of flowing water a beacon.
The bank dropped off six feet, the ripples of the water indicating a swift flow through the narrow section. She found a smooth tree trunk, leaned against it, and closed her eyes. There was peace to be found here, but it seemed intent on playing hide-and-seek.
Things were working out differently than she’d expected when she bought Ford’s percentage of the garage. After the bombshell reveal at Sutton’s New Year’s Eve party, she hadn’t expected to genuinely like the Abbotts. And she really hadn’t expected the animosity between her and Mack to morph into unharnessed electricity, exciting and dangerous.
She was undeniably attracted to Mack with his dark good looks and complicated moods and rare smiles. She banged her head against the trunk, hoping to knock some sense into her brain. What she was feeling was simply a physical infatuation. The natural result of being around a virile, single man after her self-imposed celibacy. Her body would adjust. It would have to.
The slight breeze and white noise of the river worked an alchemy and lulled her into a place between conscious thought. The rustle of leaves put her on alert. Had she summoned Mack? She opened her eyes and turned. A black-and-white animal launched itself at her head.
Chapter Eight
Mack had work to do, yet he was standing in the door of the barn staring into the trees toward the river drinking a Coke he didn’t even want. She’d been gone twenty-seven minutes. He knew because he’d watched the clock since she’d walked out the back door. Had she gotten lost? Fallen in the river? It wasn’t deep enough to drown in. Unless she’d hit her head or gotten her foot jammed under a log.
He straightened and debated the levels of insanity if he went to search for her. A scream echoed from the woods. He threw the can aside and sprinted toward the path the brothers had cut through the trees when they were kids.
He leapt over a fallen tree, but had to stop when his shirt got caught in a bramble. Another breathless feminine yelp was followed by a bark. It was only River. The dog wouldn’t hurt her, but Ella might hurt herself in a bid to get away. Her fear manifested anytime the dog came within arm’s length of her.
He yanked his shirt so hard it ripped. Finally free, he jogged toward the river and spotted her holding a stick out to keep River back. Trouble was that River’s favorite game was fetch the stick, and she bounced on her paws, waiting for Ella to get with the program and toss it already.
He scooped up a stick and whistled, drawing both Ella’s and River’s attention. “Go get it, girl.” He threw the stick behind him and River tore through the leaves on the hunt.
Ella deflated before his eyes, bending over with her hands on her knees.
“River thought you wanted to play fetch.” Mack’s heart was playing kick drum against his chest. “She won’t hurt you.”
“In my head, I know she won’t, but I can’t help it.” Her voice was muffled, and she was breathing like she’d run a mile. She wiped at her cheeks, and Mack’s stomach did a swan dive. Tears had left her eyes reddened.
Leaves stuck in her hair and along the left side of her pants leg. River trotted up with a stick hanging out of her mouth. Ella backpedaled into a tree. He threw the stick as far as he could, then approached Ella as if she was a wounded animal. And, wasn’t she, in a way?
“What made you so scared of dogs?”
Ella’s attention was fixed on where River had settled in to gnaw on the end of a stick. She was silent for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was thin. “My stepfather raised dogs.”
“I’m assuming he didn’t raise cute little yippy ones.”
Her humorless laugh sputtered like an engine out of gas. “Not even close. They were bruisers. Mostly for protection, I guess.”
“Mean dogs?” Mack asked.
“Not born mean, but trained mean. It was my stepdad’s specialty.” Her voice was dry with an ironic twist.
Questions popped in his head like firecrackers, each more explosive than the last. Had her stepdad been cruel to her? “Did one of his dogs attack you?”
“Since you shared your scar, I’ll share mine.” She untucked her shirt and lifted the right side. Puckered pink skin arced from her hip bone to her flank. A dog bite.
He traced the scar with his fingers. “That must’ve hurt like hell. How old were you?”
“Ten. It was a big dog. Maybe a German Shepherd or Rottweiler. I can’t remember now.”
“What happened?”
“The dogs roamed outside. My stepdad said they kept us safe when he was gone on trucking jobs. It happened when I walked home from school. I guess the dog pegged me for an intruder. I don’t know. Grayson was home, thank God, and kicked the dog off me. He rushed me to the hospital, and they stitched me up.”
Mack could picture it—the terror, the blood—and it made him want to find her stepdad. Or to do something even more foolish like hold her close and soothe her fear away. “What happened after your stepdad found out?”
“Before my stepdad made it home from his run, the animal-control people took the dog. I assume they…” She pressed her lips together and gave a little shake of her head. “He blamed me, of course, and accused me of provoking the dog. I realize not every dog is like that, and I do okay with small dogs. But, having one River’s size come at me puts me back in my yard. It’s crazy, right?”
“Sounds like a natural reaction.”
<
br /> “Up here”—she tapped her temple—“I know the biggest threat from River is being licked to death. It’s silly.”
“Not silly. Normal.” He chewed the inside of his mouth and observed the way she kept her gaze on River at all times as if preparing for an attack. “But I’ll bet River would be happy to help you get over your phobia.”
“It’s not a phobia.” She sounded put out by his definition.
“Okay, not a phobia. But it’s a fear that hampers your day-to-day living, especially if you stick around the garage for any length of time. River and Willa are inseparable. You need to learn to live with her. Or at least not be terrified by her.”
“And how do you suggest I overcome this?” Ella’s skepticism was obvious.
How did one go about conquering fears? He’d always prided himself on meeting challenges head-on. But the last year had taught him that he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was. The memory of his mother hung in the corner of his mind like a ghost. And Ford. While he thought he’d been meeting that problem head-on, what he’d really been doing was reinforcing his defenses and pushing Ford away.
He dropped to a squat and whistled for River. When Ella looked ready to bolt and jump in the river to escape the dog, he grabbed her wrist and looked up at her. “Trust me?”
She didn’t pull from his grip, but her arm was stiff and the tension vibrated from her body. She stared into his eyes, unblinking. River tucked her head under his other hand, and he rubbed her ears, never looking away from Ella.
“River was dumped at Willa’s trailer park. I almost called animal control on her the day she followed Willa to work. She had no one to love her and take care of her.”
“Until Willa,” Ella whispered without moving her lips.
“Until Willa,” he said. “Now we all love on her. She’s a good dog.” He loosened his fingers on her wrist one by one until he was sure Ella wouldn’t run. He let go, and she didn’t move. River lay down in the leaves and lifted a leg to give Mack access to her belly.
“She seems to like that,” Ella said tentatively.
“Do you want to give her back a scratch?”
She shuffled closer and dropped into a squat next to him angling herself to put him mostly between her and River. That was fine. He was happy to protect her.
“Right here.” He demonstrated, and River’s plumed tail waved like a flag in strong winds.
Ella extended a fist, only unfurling it when she got close to touching River. Mack moved his hand to rub River around the ears, hoping the dog wouldn’t see a squirrel or rabbit and jump up, barking. That would negate any progress Ella was making.
Ella barely rubbed River’s back with her fingertips. “She’s soft.”
“She was a skinny, dirty, mangy thing back when Willa adopted her.”
River narrowed her eyes, slipping into a blissful state from the attention. Ella stroked once down the dog’s flank then withdrew her hand and sat back on her heels. A whistle sounded from the direction of the garage. River leapt up and tore off through the trees.
Ella let out a soft yelp, plopped on her butt, and clutched his thigh.
Her touch wasn’t remotely sexual, yet Mack couldn’t stop the response that blazed through his body like a wildfire. His conscience tsked like Smokey Bear. A physical declaration would only muddy the already-confusing dynamic between them. While they were no longer enemies, they weren’t friends either.
River was out of sight, not to return. The soothing sounds of birds and the flowing river should have calmed the fire of his attraction and her anxiety. Problem was not only hadn’t she removed her hand, but it moved an inch up his inner thigh, closer to the point of detonation.
He fisted his hand in the leaves to keep from covering her hand with his and moving it even higher. Sweat broke over his forehead. He wanted to kiss her. It was wrong and inappropriate and foolish.
Slowly, as if she might spook, he turned his head. She raised her gaze to his. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, but not from fear.
“How do you feel?” he rumbled softly.
“Proud of myself.” A small smile broke through like the sun on a cloudy day.
He might never know the extent of the hardships Ella had faced and overcome, but he was damn certain they were more difficult and devastating than the ones Mack was actively avoiding. “You should be proud. And for more than just petting a dog.”
She tilted her head, a question on her face.
Before she had a chance to ask something he wasn’t ready to answer, he said, “You’ve got leaves in your hair.”
He gave into the compulsion to touch her. As he picked leaves out of her hair, he allowed his fingertips to graze her cheek and neck. Finally, he thread his fingers into her hair at her nape and held still.
What if he leaned in and kissed her? Would she return his kiss? Would she shove him in the dirt and run? Or worse, would she laugh at him? The uncertainty roiling his stomach made him feel sixteen again.
“Am I de-leaved?” She pulled her hand off his thigh and touched her hair, her fingers glancing over his wrist.
He gave her hair a slight tug before releasing her and pushing to stand up. His thigh muscles woke and protested his long crouch. He and his brothers had spent hours huddled behind bushes and in trees waiting for rabbits or deer, but it had been years since he’d hunted. The older he got, the more sympathetic he grew to the plight of an animal trying to survive.
“Mostly de-leaved. We’d better head back before the boys send out a search party.” He led them back to the path.
Every year, undergrowth swallowed more of the path he and Ford had carved. It had been their project the summer before their mother abandoned them. The twins had been too young to help. That had been the last carefree summer he could remember. After their mother left, he’d done his best for the twins, even though he’d been too young to take care of himself.
She came up beside him, their arms jostling as the creeping vegetation forced them close. “Whatcha thinking about?”
“I was thinking about how if you don’t tend to something, it descends into chaos.”
“Whoa. Deep thoughts from Mack Abbott. I’m assuming you’re referring to the Ford situation?”
He shot her a side-eye. “Among other things.”
Wyatt, Jackson, and Willa stood in the opened barn door. Spotting them, River gave a bark where she was sitting at Willa’s leg.
Jackson gestured toward the woods. “We were starting to get worried.”
“Everything’s fine.” Mack kept his voice cool and brisk, afraid he would give away how thoroughly Ella had worked her way under his skin and into his thoughts.
Willa had hold of River’s collar and backed her farther into the barn.
“You don’t have to take her somewhere else. It’s okay. River is part of the garage too. She’s the mascot for goodness’ sake. I need to get over my little issue.” Ella stepped within a few feet of River, but didn’t make a move to pat the dog again. Still, it was a marked improvement.
Silence fell for a half second too long, summoning a dark cloud of uncomfortableness. Ella’s smile was tight and polite. “I need to finish a few things up in the office and then I’m going to take off.”
Mack couldn’t take his eyes off her retreating figure. Leaves clung to her backside, and he imagined helping brush those off as well.
Wyatt cleared his throat. He crossed his arms and stared Mack down like he’d eaten the last cookie. Mack ignored him and grabbed a cold drink as Jackson, Willa, and River disappeared up the loft stairs.
“Look, I’m going to have to put my foot down. Quit treating Ella like she’s a pariah.” With his usual easygoing tease sheared away by sharpness, Wyatt stepped between Mack and the refrigerator.
“What are you talking about? I was perfectly pleasant.” If “pleasant” included fighting the urge to roll around in the dirt and leaves while he stripped her naked. As a matter of fact, that sounded positively perfect.
He opened his mouth to argue, when he got sidetracked. “Hang on. What do you by my plans for the garage? Don’t you want her gone and her share back in our hands as much as I do?”
“Sure, that’d be best-case scenario, but don’t turn into someone you’ll hate later to claim a victory.”
Wyatt’s assessment wounded Mack. Ford had been too busy and self-centered, so Mack had taken on the role of protective big brother. He’d had Wyatt and Jackson’s backs in school and at home, relishing the way they looked up to him. Their confidence in his leadership of the garage had been gratifying even as the pressure became too much to bear.
Now, though, Wyatt and Jackson had matured and gained wisdom through their committed relationships. Mack wanted to know the secret handshake to get into the club, but was too proud to ask.
Wyatt must have taken his silence for contrition. He reached into the refrigerator, pulled out a beer, and handed it over. “Take a few minutes to calm down and think things over before you confront Ella again.”
Mack didn’t attempt to set the record straight. What was the point? Anyway, Wyatt’s assessment might not have applied to Ella, but it certainly applied to Ford. And maybe his mother. He didn’t want regrets to swamp him later. Even if it all went to hell, he had to make an effort. Didn’t he?
Chapter Nine
The passing scenery barely registered as Ella drove home. She assumed she wasn’t breaking any traffic laws. She couldn’t get her mind off Mack. His sweet understanding of her neurosis in the woods. His not entirely unsuccessful attempt to get her comfortable with River. But mostly the way his hand had wandered into her hair. Logic-destroying desire had burned through her.
She pulled into her driveway and stopped short, her seat belt catching. An unknown car was tucked up against the side of her garage. A sleek, silver Lexus. Was Trevor back?
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