by Sybil Bartel
“Background, right side,” he said ignoring my question. “What do you see?”
I looked closer. Our mailbox, right next to the street sign.
“Do you know how many streets in the US are named Oak?”
Road, I mentally corrected, looking closer at the picture he was still holding up. But the photo was old and the RD was blurred out, same as it was on the actual sign. “No idea.”
“Almost seven thousand.”
“Who knew,” I said dryly, reaching for the picture.
He snapped the photo back and shoved it in his pocket.
“Hey, that’s mine.” I stupidly reached for his pocket.
Grabbing my wrist faster than I could blink, he pulled hard. My chest slammed into his, and his voice dropped to a warning. “Did I give you permission to touch me?”
It was instant.
Desire surged between my legs, and need so sharp it was painful crawled across my skin. My mouth watered, my pussy clenched at emptiness, and I wanted to ride him like I’d ridden Daisy.
If his brand of dominance was a drug, I was addicted.
“Answer me,” he demanded.
His unforgiving gaze held me hostage, but I didn’t have to give in to my addiction.
Steeling my resolve, I straightened my shoulders. “What are you going to do, Falcon?” I purposely used his name. “Turn me into your needy little bitch? Throw me down and fuck me right here in front of the stables?”
Not a single muscle moved on his face, but his voice turned lethally quiet. “Fantasizing about my cock?”
“You wish,” I taunted, lying. He was all I’d been thinking about.
He grasped my jaw as his fingers closed over my neck in dominance. “You sure you wanna keep up that attitude?”
“Or what?” I forced myself to pull back. He let go of my face, but not my wrist. “In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t Miami Beach.”
“It’s not fucking Hollywood either,” he countered.
“Meaning?”
“Cut the bullshit.” His grip on my wrist tightened. “You know why I’m here. You know what you need to do.”
My stomach bottomed out, and the last ounce of hope I’d been stupidly, stupidly holding on to was crushed into the dirt of my family’s farm. “Go fuck yourself.” I wrenched my wrist free, stormed into the stables, and started mucking out Peony’s stall.
Tank stormed right in after me. “Two choices,” he warned. “Put the pitchfork down or I make you put it down.”
“Go ahead and try.” Fighting back tears, I made the mistake of not even looking at him.
A second later, I was airborne.
One arm around my waist, Tank ripped the pitchfork from my hand, threw it down, then spun me. My back hit the side of the stall, he grabbed my wrists and he pinned my arms over my head.
I kicked him.
His nostrils flared, but that was it. No flinch, no grunt, no change in expression.
So I let loose.
My back arched, my legs kicked out, and I fought against his hold as I threw my whole body into a headbutt. Twisting, kicking, seething mad at him, at myself, I didn’t even realize I was crying until my guttural scream filled the stables and Peony’s sister, Daffodil, started kicking her stall and neighing.
“Let me go!” I futilely yanked to free my hands, but managed to get a solid kick to his upper thigh.
That’s when he moved.
Dropping my arms and catching my waist, he spun me to face the wall as he grasped my wrists again. Bringing my arms up, my palms hit the rough wood of the barn wall as he held me captive with my hands on either side of my head.
His hot breath touched my ear as his voice grated across my frayed nerves. “If you ever try to kick me in the balls again, I will give you a spanking you’ll never forget. You hear me?”
Fighting to hold back a sob of humiliation, I bit the inside of my cheek.
“You fucking hear me?” he barked.
Ashamed, enraged, despondent, I somehow managed to nod.
His hand left my wrist only to slam against the wall a second later with his cell phone. “Call your publicist. Make a statement. Unfuck your goddamn mess.”
“I don’t have a publicist anymore.” My voice hitched.
“She’s waiting for you to call.” He dropped my other arm, shoved his phone into my hand and stepped back.
My heart shattered, my hands shaking, I didn’t make the call.
I stared at his phone.
His smell all around me, it felt more intimate holding his phone than having his hands on me.
But I didn’t have an intimate relationship with this man.
I’d never have anything with him.
Steeped in regret, I dropped his phone and walked out.
GODDAMN IT.
I snatched my phone off the horseshit-smelling ground and went after her.
Striding toward the house, she crossed her arms protectively in front of her.
Guilt hit me in the chest before I fucking stomped it down and barked her middle name. “Audrina!”
Ignoring me, she kept walking.
I threw down my one play. “Magnolia Audrina Jensen.”
She froze.
I closed the distance and lowered my voice to a warning. “I know your real name. I know what you did to protect it, and I know where your family lives.”
“Is that a threat?”
Yes. “Make the fucking call.”
A screen door squeaked. “Who are you?”
I snapped my head up.
A woman, barely twenty years older than Audrina, with the same hair and same eyes, stood on the porch of the house. Except unlike her daughter, she wasn’t beautiful. She could have been, if she didn’t look like decades of hard living and hatred had eaten her alive.
Audrina sucked in a stilted breath. “He’s no one. I was just coming in to help you, Momma.”
Her mother openly stared at me. “I don’t need help. Supper’s ready. Are you going to introduce your friend?”
“He’s not my friend. I’ll call Daddy.” Audrina put two fingers to her mouth and whistled.
My hands on my hips, I should’ve introduced myself, but instinct and the ten shades past crazy look on her mother’s face made me keep my mouth shut.
The mother kept staring at me, but addressed her daughter. “Weather’s coming in. Did you put Peony back in her stable?”
“Daddy has her.”
Her mother nodded. “He knows she doesn’t like the storms.” She glanced at her daughter. “Who is he?”
Audrina sighed as she looked out over the cornfields, but she didn’t say shit.
Fuck this. I tipped my chin at her mother. “Tank Gunther. Personal security. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jensen.”
Her gaze cut to her daughter and she ignored me. “You need a bodyguard?”
Audrina half laughed, half snorted. “Not anymore.”
The sound of galloping hooves cut off the fucking bizarre interchange a few seconds before a male version of Audrina rode up on the horse she’d brought out of the barn and dismounted.
Tying the horse’s reins to the front porch, his tone was hostile as fuck as he glared at me. “Can I help you?”
He was half a foot shorter than me and seventy pounds lighter. I could take the wiry prick down in a fraction of a second. I nodded toward Audrina. “I’m here to talk to her.”
“We’re done talking. He was just leaving.” Audrina stepped up to the horse to pet her.
The mother glanced at the sunny sky. “Storm’s coming. He’s staying for supper.”
“No, he’s not.” Audrina glanced at the asshole who had to be her brother. “Where’s Daddy?”
“You know Peony won’t let him ride her.” The guy pet the horse on the back hind leg. “Ain’t that right, girl?”
The horse whinnied.
“Magnolia, James, go wash up for supper.” She issued the command like she was talking to two insolent children inste
ad of two adults.
Audrina crossed her arms and glared at me. “I’ll come in once he leaves.”
Before she had the last word out, her brother had grabbed her arm. “You do what Momma says.” He started to drag her up the porch steps.
Every protective instinct I had kicked in, and it was instinctual. One stride and I had the asshole’s wrist in a crushing grip. “Let go of her. Now.” I’d bury the motherfucker.
The horse neighed, and for one heartbeat James glared at me.
Then he dropped his hold on Audrina and held his free hand up. “All right, big man, you win. I ain’t touching my sister no more. You still wanna fight me?”
Audrina scoffed. “Shut up, James.”
Her father walked around the corner of the house. “Why isn’t supper ready?”
“It is.” His wife didn’t hesitate. “We were just going in.” She eyed Audrina. “Take Peony back to her stable. James, go wash up.” Not waiting to see if anyone followed her instructions, she went back inside.
Audrina took the horse’s reins, her father walked in to the house, and James followed after him, giving me one more glare.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Audrina whisper-hissed, taking the horse back toward the barn. “You’re making everyone mad.”
Alarm bells went off like a fucking five-alarm fire. “Your brother always push you around like that?”
“Oh my God, seriously?” She dropped her voice to an angry whisper again. “You pinned me against the barn wall, and you’re going to ask me about my brother? Screw you.” She held her hand up and the horse neighed. “On second thought, forget it. Been there, done that.”
Still pissed at the way her brother had handled her, I grabbed the horse’s reins and stood in front of her. “We’re not talking about us right now. I’m still pissed the fuck off at what I just saw and, worse, your reaction to it. Give me one good reason not to throw you in the SUV and get you the fuck out of here.” I leaned down to her to make my point. “Because I’ve seen a lot of fucked-up shit in my day, and, sweetheart, your family takes the cake.” Not to mention my instincts were going fucking ballistic. There was a goddamn reason she hadn’t been back to this place in a decade.
Incredulous, she scoffed. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?” She yanked the horse’s reins from me and led the beast into the barn.
I followed her. “Is anyone in your family fucking glad you’re here? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is hostility.” And some seriously fucked-up dynamics.
“Like you’re not hostile?” She closed the door to the horse’s stable. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“I have a fucking reason to be pissed at you right now.” She’d fucking left me. I tipped my chin toward the house. “What’s their excuse?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, sarcastic as hell. “Ten years ago I left three people to do a four-person job and never came back? What the fuck?” She looked at me like I was the crazy one. “Life isn’t a fairy tale where every family kisses and makes up.” She threw her hands out. “So I don’t have a perfect family, so what? They’re mine, and I sure as hell don’t have to stand here and justify shit to you.” She spun and started for the exit.
I reached out to grab her, but realized I was doing the exact same shit her asshole brother had done, so I slammed the side of my fist against the wall instead. “God fucking damn it, Audrina. Stop!”
She flinched and froze, but she didn’t turn around.
My head a fucking mess since I laid eyes on her, I wanted to fuck her as bad as I wanted to throw her over my goddamn knee. Inhaling, trying to calm the fuck down, I stepped in front of her.
She crossed her arms, and her head dropped.
“Look at me,” I demanded.
“Go home, Falcon,” she said quietly, her voice hitching.
Jesus fuck. I tipped her chin, and when I saw the tears, I knew it wasn’t an act. “You’re right,” I admitted. “I’m still mad about the bullshit you pulled on Miami Morning. I’m angry Luna and Associates took a hit from the bad press. But I’m pissed as hell you took off on me.”
A tear rolled down her cheek as she kept her eyes averted. “I’m sorry.”
I swept at the tear with my thumb, and for the first time I understood just how fucking alone she was. “You said you were drowning that night. You remember any of that?”
She nodded, barely, and her hair fell over her face.
I brushed the strand back. Jesus Christ she was beautiful. “This isn’t coming up for air, sweetheart.”
She burst into tears.
I BURST INTO TEARS, AND he pulled me into his impossibly huge arms.
“Now you’re my knight in shining armor?” I fought a sob and lost. I hated him. I hated that he came for me only to tell me to fix my mess, then he swiped at my tears and tucked my hair behind my ear. I hated that he was here for two seconds and he knew all my dirty little secrets. And I hated that he saw me drowning. “Go. Home.” I wrenched out of his grasp.
He dropped his arms, but he didn’t step back. “Come with me.”
My hand flew to my mouth to stifle the sob and I didn’t have a choice.
I ran.
I ran out the barn door.
I ran across the dirt driveway.
And I ran past the house.
My legs pumping, my chest feeling like I was having a heart attack, my stomach threatening to heave, I kept running.
I ran past my mother coming out the screen door and calling my name in disgust. I ran from the mistake I’d made on Miami Morning, and I ran from the man whose heavy footsteps I heard gaining on me.
I ran from the truth.
He was right. I was drowning, and this wasn’t coming up for air. I didn’t belong here. I didn’t belong anywhere, but for one night almost two weeks ago, I felt like I did, and that hurt more than anything else. I wished I’d never gotten a taste of Falcon Gunther’s own special brand of attention. And I wished I’d never heard him call me sweetheart.
Bile rising in my throat, I kept running.
I ran all the way to apple orchard.
But when I got to the first row of trees, the nausea I’d been fighting all day became too much, and I bent and vomited. But I didn’t just vomit. Wave after wave convulsed my stomach, and I kept heaving until I was on my knees and nothing but bile was coming out.
My hair was swept back, and a strong hand landed on my back. “Easy. Take a breath.”
Heaving, fighting panic, I tried to suck in a breath and choked.
“Hey, hey, hey.” The hand holding my hair gently pulled till my head was upright. “In through your nose. Deep breath.”
Tears streamed down my face, but I managed to inhale.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re okay.”
Oh my God, he was watching me vomit. “Why are you being nice?” My life hit a new low.
“You want me to be a dick?” He swept the rest of my hair out of the way.
“I’d trust it more.” I shoved at his hand.
Ignoring me swatting at him, he pulled me to my feet. “Jesus, woman.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Desperate for water, I wiped my mouth on my sleeve.
Making sure I was steady before he let go of me, he slowly dropped his hands. “It means I’m not a complete asshole.”
I snorted and immediately wished I hadn’t. Choking on the vile taste in my mouth, I spit on the ground like a fricking animal then moved the hell away from my own vomit.
Following me, Tank reached into the trees, casually plucked an apple, and rubbed it on his thigh before whipping out a switchblade from his pocket. Cutting the apple first in half, then one of the halves in quarters, he deftly cored and skinned it before holding the piece out to me. “Suck on this.”
The thought of putting anything in my mouth made my stomach turn, but I was desperate to get rid of the taste of puke, so I took the apple and ate a bite. The sun-warm slice t
asted shockingly good.
“If you’re gonna eat it, chew slow,” he warned, popping a piece into his mouth in one bite.
Ignoring his advice, I ate the rest of my slice. It was the first thing that’d tasted good in days.
Coring and peeling the rest of the apple, he handed me another piece. “You always puke when you run?”
“No.” I bit into the second piece and wondered why I’d been here for a week and hadn’t been eating the apples.
“You got any other symptoms?” he asked casually. “Fever, upset stomach?”
“Are you a doctor now?” I walked down the row of trees that were planted before I was born.
He picked another apple. “Have you been throwing up before today?”
What the fuck? “You worried I’m too sick to fix your boss’s precious reputation?” Screw him. It was handled, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
“No.” His knife sliced through the apple with practiced ease. “You late?”
I froze.
Then the nausea came back with a vengeance, and I clenched my jaw, taking shallow breaths through my nose. “Just because a woman throws up, you think she’s pregnant?” Forcing the last word out, I sucked in a deep breath and reached for deniability. I wasn’t pregnant. I couldn’t be pregnant. I was not pregnant.
“No. But a woman I had unprotected sex with who doesn’t show any signs of the flu, but starts heaving?” He looked me in the eye. “That I fucking think about.”
Fighting panic, fighting nausea, and fighting stupid tears that came at the drop of a hat the past week, I turned and aimed for the house. “I’m going home.”
“You think that’s your home?”
“Screw you.”
“Answer my question,” he demanded, tossing the apple and pocketing his knife.
“It’s the only home I’ve got.” Because I’d stupidly never put down roots and bought myself a place.
“The other question.”
I stopped and spun. “Leave me alone. Leave the farm. Go home and stop pretending you give one shit about me other than to get what you came for. Which isn’t fucking happening, because I’m not calling Janette or anyone else. So leave.”