“You would lose her,” Gemma finished, aching at his dilemma.
“The rest of them I could take or leave, to be honest. But Janey, she’s the only one of us who isn’t rotten. Now that I know Blake forced himself on you, I can’t stomach the thought of being around him. I don’t know what to do with any of this.” He looked at her. “Or you.”
She saw Pax in a whole new light. It would have been better to see him as a cheater. But noooo. He had to be vulnerable. And loyal to a sister Blake never mentioned once when they were dating.
“Janey sounds pretty special.” Gemma wanted to know more about her, but she also wanted to know more about Pax.
His tension eased back into a smile. “Janey’s the best of all of us. When my parents found out she had Down syndrome, they freaked. I was only five, so I didn’t understand what was going on, other than there was something wrong with her. But when she was born I thought she was perfect. She smiled all the time. By the time she was five, I understood her limitations, but I also recognized that she was a free spirit like me. I loved teaching her stuff, and she beamed when she accomplished something. Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“It’s sweet, the way you love her. And unfair the way your parents use her to punish you. I don’t want to be the cause of that.” She stepped up close to him, wanting with every fiber to put her arms around his neck. “It was just a kiss,” she lied. “One silly kiss. We had a taste of what could have been and, yeah, it was nice. But it’s not worth what you would go through for more of those kisses. We sated our curiosity. And now we go on.”
He searched her eyes, perhaps looking for the truth. “Nice?” he echoed.
“Nice,” she confirmed, because that’s all it could be.
“And you think we did it out of curiosity.”
“Definitely.”
He brushed his finger along the edge of her bangs, leaving a trail of warmth across her forehead. “Liar.”
She couldn’t protest; she was lying. It had been way more than nice. That kiss had rocked her soul. She sure as heck couldn’t admit that. So why, then, did her body lean toward him for another kiss?
Maybe for the same reason his body leaned closer to hers.
A dog’s barking pulled his attention to the night around them. He stepped back. “I’d better let Harley in. I’ll keep him away so he doesn’t scare you. G’night, Gemma.”
“Good night, Paxton.”
He paused. “You called me ‘gorgeous and charming.’ ”
She rewound the conversation. Yep, she sure had. “You are. Just don’t let it go to your head.”
He laughed softly as he rubbed his chest. “Nope. I’ll keep it right here.”
As she watched him walk away she thought, Harley’s not the one I’m afraid of being with. Pax had given her a huge gift tonight, and it had cost him a lot. Actually, two gifts. Believing her was the big one. But holding her while being mindful of what that truth meant was another. If she spent much more time with him, she was going to fall hard. And that would create a whole bunch of havoc for both of them.
Chapter 8
Gemma woke bright and early. No, that wasn’t the truth. She couldn’t technically wake up, because she’d never really fallen sleep. She would slip into a half-dream about Pax holding her, or kissing her, and jerk awake again. Then she’d realized kissing him hadn’t been a dream at all. It had happened. And it had been as awesome as she could ever have imagined.
Dammit.
Part of her hoped to hear Pax doing his singsong announcement on his way up the stairs bearing coffee and a doughnut, as he’d done the day before. A lot had happened since then. She could hear him down in the kitchen talking to the demo guys, his warm, southern accent curling through her.
Dammit.
She decided to finally settle into her room rather than live out of her suitcase. Time to commit to being here, at least for a few weeks. She pulled open the top drawer and poured her underthings into it. Then she opened the second drawer and stopped. Pink skulls smiled from a black background. Hesitantly, she picked up the leggings that had been sitting in the drawer for seven years. They unfurled to their full length. Underneath was the lace miniskirt that she’d worn over them.
She held them up, getting a glimpse in the mirror of the girl she’d been. An innocent who played at being cool and worldly. She set them on the dresser and dug through some of the other clothes in the drawer. Her father had left everything here, where she had abandoned it when she returned to New York.
She pushed the robe off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. A part of her wanted to put on the leggings and skirt. She’d worn something like this on the night of the race. Emily had clearly failed to comprehend the coolness of it, and as Gemma had taken in all the kids in their jeans, old T-shirts, and flip-flops, she understood why.
She rifled through the drawer, mostly black clothing but adorned with bright emblems of skulls, bleeding roses, and zombies. Her favorite, a black top with a cartoonish woman’s face painted like the Mexican Day of the Dead. Gemma could see herself in it, strutting through the mall with her posse as though she’d owned it.
Her eyes watered as a wave of grief washed over her for that girl. She stuffed everything back into the drawer. “She’s dead. Gone. Buried.” In her place was a woman who dressed down her assets. They stared at her now, the large breasts that had caused her trouble since they’d sprouted at thirteen. First the boys had teased her, then they’d gawked and made comments. She’d considered reduction, but surgery terrified her.
She trussed them up in a too-tight bra and slipped into a shirt that was baggy enough to leave a lot to the imagination. It didn’t matter, because nothing more could happen between her and Pax. How could she ever date a guy whose parents thought she was a whore and a liar? Whose brother had raped her? And whose relationship with his sister would be severed because of her?
Nope, couldn’t, shouldn’t…wouldn’t.
She wasn’t ready for a relationship anyway. Didn’t care to engage in a sexual way with anyone right now. The idea of grand romance was a fraud, a bill of goods sold to little girls who devoured fairy tales. And later, in all of those young-adult romance novels and movies where love was life-affirming because death lurked around every corner. There was overwhelming tragedy—the death of mothers and brothers and friends—balanced by grandiose love and loyalty that didn’t exist in real life.
She made her way downstairs, annoyed at the way her gaze sought Pax out among the workers in the kitchen and through the cloud of dust that filled the air.
He stood on a step stool breaking off the side trim with gloved hands. His back was to her, and she paused and allowed herself a few seconds to enjoy the way his muscles moved beneath his tight tank top. Until she realized that the two men prying up the floor tiles were watching her. And grinning, to judge by their squinched eyes above white respiratory masks.
It was just an appreciation of the male body in a detached way. “Morning,” she said, coming all the way down the stairs.
Pax turned, wearing the same kind of mask. “Mornin’.”
His bloodshot eyes looked as though he’d had the same kind of sleepless night. No wonder. She couldn’t imagine having to face such a vile truth about your own brother.
She stepped over debris and through the vinyl door to the den, which needed to be dusted again. Her guests would be arriving in an hour. She had work to do.
Harley’s bark drew her gaze to the porch out back, where the dog pranced and whined. He was cute, sort of. The dog that had bitten her was a Border collie, a supposedly friendly breed. Harley’s breed was reputed to be vicious, and yet she’d seen him completely submissive. Begging to have his tummy rubbed. He even seemed to comfort her when Pax said they would never be friends.
“He’s working you,” a low, southern voice from behind her said. “Giving you those soft looks, worming his way into your heart.”
“He sure is.” Let Pax think she wa
s talking about the dog.
“See, you were actually considering going out there, weren’t you, and petting him?”
“Never.” She turned to the one who was really worming his way in. “I will resist temptation.”
“You say that now, but I bet by week’s end you’ll be scratching his belly.”
“Will not.”
The teasing glint in Pax’s eyes faded. “Probably a good idea. You’ll just get attached to the bugger, and it’ll be harder when you go back to New York.”
She pushed his arm. “Aren’t you full of yourself?”
“Me? I’m talking about the dog.”
Sure, he was. “I have more important things to do than play with a dog. My anniversary couple is due shortly. I have to dust again. And I need to find a vase for the flowers. And…” Her list of to-dos, reasons to move away, trailed off as she took him in. “You didn’t get any sleep, either, did you?”
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Not a wink. I don’t know what to do about my belief in my brother’s guilt.”
She pulled him into the small wing that housed the guest rooms. “You don’t have to do anything. Unless…you think he’s done this to other women.”
“I think he may be doing it now, or something close to it. To his secretary. I went over to the dealership before they opened and caught them. Not in the act, but damned near enough. I was beyond pissed, but the more I think about it the more I suspect a deeper, subconscious reason for my anger that goes deeper than his cheating. She looked ashamed, but I saw something more than that. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but now I know—she looked coerced. He’s her boss, the source of her paycheck. And worse, I think she’s a single mother who just moved to town.”
“So she needs the job.”
“He said she was a nymphomaniac and had come on to him, but she looks like a sweet, timid thing.”
“Like he blamed me, calling me a whore who was desperate to hold on to him.”
Pax’s normally tanned face blanched. “Exactly. What you said about wimps came back to me: how it doesn’t take a lot of strength to force someone in a weak position to do what you want. When I called him out on his cheating, Blake told me how much he needs to feel like a man. To be in control. Dad’s always controlled him, and he’s married to a nagging, cold woman. Coercing a woman into sex is probably his way of compensating. And it has to stop.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.” The thought of some woman having to regularly submit to Blake…
“Breathe,” Pax said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Blake’s my brother. It’s my responsibility to figure out what to do with him.”
She brought her hands up to circle his forearms. “This is going to make you much more than the bad son. You’re going to be excommunicated. You’ll lose Janey.”
She could see that he’d already been contemplating that, probably all night. “What if there were other women like you? He and I didn’t hang together the two years I went to the main campus at Florida State. I know he dated a lot, a different woman every time I saw him.” He shuddered. “Seems like it’s on the news all the time lately, a woman claiming to be raped on campus by a wholesome-looking guy you’d think wouldn’t have a problem hooking up with a willing girl. Just like Blake.”
“Rape isn’t about sex. It’s about power. Control.”
His mouth tightened. “Regaining it when you feel you don’t have any.”
The front door opened, and two men with bright smiles peered in. “Knock, knock,” they sang in unison, then laughed with each other. “We’re early! Hope that’s okay.”
Gemma had to shift to a hostess state of mind. “You must be Trey and Gary,” she said, coming forward with her hand outstretched. “Welcome to”—a pounding sound interrupted—“well, the chaos.”
The men’s smiles didn’t waver as they each gave her a hug, taking her by surprise.
“I’m Trey,” the thin one said, flicking his thick brown hair to the side.
“I’m Gary,” the shorter, stockier one said. “And that’s where we met, in the den. Trey was sitting there reading, looking a little sad.”
“It was the one-year anniversary of my father’s passing,” Trey said. “I felt this sympathetic gaze on me. I looked up and—”
“It was love at first sight,” Gary finished. “Well, it was intense attraction at first sight, anyway.”
Gemma couldn’t help smiling as they continued talking about the nuances of their first meet, finishing each other’s sentences. Then their gazes moved to the flapping vinyl door.
“Here we are reminiscing,” Trey said, rolling his eyes. “Being totally insensitive. How’s your dad?”
“He’s good, considering. Still in ICU, but improving. They think he’ll be moved to a regular room any day now.”
Trey’s relief was clear. “Please give him our regards. He really made it special when we were here the first time.”
“Put candles on our table,” Gary put in, following Trey to the door, where they peered into the kitchen. “Bought bubble-bath beads and set them on the edge of the big tub. He was so warm and accepting.”
Trey linked his fingers together and gave her an expectant look. “I’m so ready for a soak in that tub.”
She was so wrapped up in their story that she’d forgotten they were here for their room. “Oh! Of course. Give me five minutes.”
“I’ll get the flowers.” Pax went into the kitchen, and she ran into the supply closet and grabbed a dust rag and a vase from a cabinet filled with vessels guests had left behind over the years.
They met in the den, then headed into the guest room where he’d held her. He stuffed the flowers into the vase and ruffled his hand over them to even them out. She ran the rag over the flat surfaces to dispel the light layer of new dust, then positioned the vase so that it would reflect the light perfectly. “There.”
They found the two men kneeling on the porch loving on Harley.
She paused, taking them in. “So, there is hope for true love.”
“Dogs will never let you down,” Pax said, obviously misinterpreting. “They never cheat or lie or betray you. They only love you unconditionally.”
She saw his raw need for that kind of love as he watched Harley roll over onto his back. Damn if she didn’t feel a yawning hunger for the same. She didn’t bother to clarify that she’d meant the two men celebrating ten years of being together who were still clearly in love.
When Trey spotted them, he and Gary gave Harley one last belly rub and came in. “We love your dog,” he said to Gemma.
“He’s Pax’s dog.”
“Well, he’s a cutie.”
She handed Trey two keys. “I’m just filling in, so if I’ve forgotten something please let me know.”
Once the lovebirds had closed the door behind them, she turned to find Pax standing close.
“I want to take you to Raleigh’s garage. He thinks he has a used tire that will work for your rental car. You can’t drive around a whole lot more on the spare.”
“I didn’t even think about that.” She’d had a lot more to process than a spare tire. “Sure, that sounds good. When?”
“He’s there now.”
“I’d planned on visiting Dad.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m already later than I wanted to be.”
“Your dad wouldn’t want you driving around on a spare, either.”
She gave him a sly smile and mirrored what he’d said to her when he was riding the shaky bleachers. “Careful, or I’ll think you care.”
He ran his finger down her jawline to her chin. “I do, Gemma Thornton.” He lowered his mouth, touching his lips to hers. “That’s the hell of it; I do care.” His mouth lingered on hers, letting her make the decision to go further.
“Seems I’m outnumbered on the spare-tire issue.” But it felt good that he cared, and even better when her lips grazed his as she spoke. “I’ll just have to give in.”
His gaze searched her
s. “For just the tire or…”
She sighed, bittersweet, as she pulled back. “We’d better keep it at the tire.”
“Follow me into town. I’d ride with you, but I’m heading to the track from there.” He went to the porch door, and Harley shot in the moment it opened. And raced right to her. He started to jump up, thought better of it, and sat down in front of her instead.
Pax patted his chest. “What am I, chopped liver? Forget what I said about loyalty.”
Gemma couldn’t help laughing, especially since Pax was barely holding back a grin. Nor could she resist bending over and scratching Harley’s head. “He’s just being friendly.” And, surprisingly, she was enjoying the feel of his soft fur beneath her fingers and those big brown eyes imploring her for more.
“I know a dog bit you, but don’t hold it against all dogs, ’kay?” Pax said. He looked very serious, very heartfelt. “I know there are bad dogs out there, but most of them are good. Gentle. Sweet. Loving.”
Was he talking about himself? Or was she simply reading more into everything because she was so tangled up in Harley’s owner? “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Harley tilted his head at her, letting out a soft whine.
“Harley, stop begging,” Pax admonished. “Have some dignity.”
She knelt all the way down and gave him a two-handed rub. Thank God Pax had never begged. She wasn’t sure she could resist him, either. She loved how Harley pressed his head right up against her stomach, as though he couldn’t get enough. He was solid but lean, like his master.
“All right, you two,” Pax said after a couple of minutes. “We have a schedule to keep here.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, getting to her feet.
She followed him to the outer edge of the downtown area and into the parking lot of an old garage. PETER’S GARAGE, the sign proclaimed. She could tell it had once been a gas station, the kind that was around before many had grown into full-sized convenience stores with gourmet coffee and all manner of food. Both bays were open, and a powder- blue, older model T-bird sat in one of them. In the window, another sign said closing, along with a date.
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