by Beth Andrews
ALLISON SMELLED LIKE smoke, which meant she had to breathe it all the way back to Alexandria. Really, it couldn’t be more fitting, since more than Joe’s motel had gone up in flames.
When she wasn’t cussing and slapping at the steering wheel, she was rummaging for tissues.
How could he even think she’d do such a thing?
Truth was, she should have been angrier. She should have been mentally constructing a voodoo doll to skewer—complete with oversize head and minuscule penis. But her fury was tempered by a bizarre sense of relief. By acting like an ass, by accusing her of doing such a hideous thing, he’d saved her from having to say goodbye four weeks down the road. A goodbye she knew damned well would have been extraordinarily painful.
Because at the moment, on a scale of one to ten, her pain level was five hundred and forty-seven.
She scrubbed a tissue across her face. It was no more than she deserved. She had let loose and lost control. Allowed herself to fall in love with a man who had no follow-through. Claimed to believe, claimed to trust, claimed to have her best interests at heart—
Thing was, he did. She knew he did. But it wasn’t enough. For either of them. She’d known this day would come. She just didn’t expect it would come with a pink slip.
Speaking of which, she had to get to T&P before he did. Get her desk emptied and her accounts transferred before there was any danger of running into Tackett’s prodigal son. Though Joe would have his hands full now, with cleanup and insurance matters. At least he had Marcus to help. Providing Marcus decided to stick around.
A rather upsetting peek at her reflection in the rearview mirror had her blinking madly and clearing her throat. She could do this. She could find another job. And to tide her over in the meantime she’d sell her condo. Pay Sammy off, and maybe even have enough left over to put her mother back in rehab. She didn’t know why she hadn’t sold the damned condo before.
Or maybe she did know.
It was all she had left. Except for one person. Whom Joe had begged her to shut out.
Control. She needed to get it back.
She pulled off the road, picked up her phone, selected a number and hit Send. Ran her fingers through her hair, over and over, while the phone rang.
“Mom? I’ll be back in town tonight. How do you feel about lunch tomorrow?”
* * *
MARCUS HEARD THE KEY in the lock and got to his feet. Scowled down at his knees when he realized they were shaking. If he’d miscalculated, he was about to have a hysterical female on his hands. Not to mention the local sheriff.
But it was too late to back out now.
The door opened. He braced himself for a scream.
But when Liz hesitated in the doorway, she didn’t look scared, or even mad. She looked relieved.
“Marcus. There you are.” She shut the door, squinting as she dropped her purse on the floor.
“What are you doing here?” She blushed, and plucked a half-eaten bowl of cereal off the coffee table. “They’re looking for you, you know.”
“I didn’t want to leave without saying I’m sorry. For being such an asshole.”
Now she did look upset. She set the bowl back down and put her hands on her hips. “You can’t run. You’ll only make yourself look guilty.”
“What do you mean, look guilty?”
“I know you didn’t do it. Joe knows you didn’t do it. It’s that hardheaded sheriff you need to convince. She heard Cal tell Joe who you are and decided you had to be the person responsible for the fire.”
“How do you know all that?”
“I was there. Half of Castle Creek was there, not that there was anything we could do to help. I looked for you. Do you have any idea what happened? Joe said it was probably faulty wiring.”
“Was that before or after Cal and the sheriff told him about me?”
“It doesn’t matter. Turn yourself in and let them figure it out. Besides, how far will you get without a car? And it’ll be dark soon. You can’t hitchhike in the dark.”
He was shaking his head. “I’m not going back to jail.”
“It won’t come to that.”
“You don’t know that. And you don’t know what it was like.”
She walked up to him, put both hands on his chest and pushed. With a yelp, he fell back onto the couch. She settled beside him, and tipped her head.
“So tell me.”
* * *
JOE SLOUCHED IN the straight-back chair, staring through the late evening gloom at the bottle of Glenlivet on the table in front of him. Every muscle strained toward temptation. Thirsted for the velvet bite of whiskey. Hungered for the slow, sweet slide into oblivion.
He’d worked hard for that oblivion. He’d let Allison down, not only by getting her fired, but by accusing her of arson. Not bad for a day’s work.
He leaned closer to the table.
She’d agreed to trust him. And what had he done? Betrayed that trust.
Didn’t matter that he’d been scared out of his mind, or angry that she kept insisting they had no future together. He’d done exactly what he’d vowed never again to do. Got close to someone. Put himself in the position of caring too much.
Proved himself a callous asshole.
She wanted him out of her life? Not a problem. He was done with letting her down.
He reached for the bottle. Wasn’t done letting himself down, though.
What about Marcus?
He hesitated, then threw himself against the back of the chair. Damn it to hell. Wherever Marcus had disappeared to, he needed Joe. Because the rest of Castle Creek was pretty damned sure he’d tried to raze the tragedies of his childhood by razing the motel.
Maybe that had been his original plan. Who knew and who could blame him? Judas Priest, the kid had endured unimaginable brutalities. For years. But whatever he’d meant to do, he hadn’t gone through with it. The Marcus that Joe knew, the Marcus he’d watched come out of his shell, the kid he’d seen behind those guarded eyes—he wasn’t the destructive type.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. He’d lost a lot today. But as horrible as it had been to watch the motel burn, it had been a hundred times more painful to watch Allison walk away. Knowing they could have enjoyed at least another month together, if only he’d been willing to play by her rules.
“Feeling sorry for yourself?” Noble set down a plate of sandwiches and took the chair beside Joe. The rickety thing creaked under his weight.
“Screw you,” muttered Joe, but already he felt better. Less of a chance he’d drink himself blind with Noble there to watch over him. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”
“Not a problem. Won’t be long before they get your place in shape. Marcus is welcome, too, if he comes back.”
“If Marcus comes back I’m afraid our fair sheriff will insist on hosting him.”
“Kid didn’t do it.”
“Preaching to the choir.”
Noble ate half a sandwich in one bite. Nodded at the bottle and swallowed. “Gonna drink that or stare at it, or what?”
“Or what. You can have it.” He stood and stretched, fought the piercing regret that he wouldn’t be falling asleep with Allison in his arms. “See you in the morning.” He stumbled over to the couch.
Morning came a hell of a lot sooner than Joe expected. Not surprising, considering he’d fallen asleep just before dawn. He kicked off the blanket, sat up and reminded himself to tell Noble his couch sucked. He ran his hands through his hair and down his face, and grimaced. Two showers and he still smelled like smoke.
The loss hit him all over again. Allison. Her name crumpled his lungs, like a kick to the solar plexus. What the hell had he been thinking? No more saucy smile, no more counting or tapping or combing, no more prissy attitude—
The doorbell rang. Joe thought about ignoring it—hell, he hadn’t even had his coffee yet. Plus it wasn’t even his doorbell. Then he heard Marcus’s voice on the other side, and staggered over to let him in.
“I didn’t do it,” Marcus said.
“Didn’t think you did.” Joe stepped back. “Want some coffee? I was just about to make some.”
While they waited for the coffee to brew, Marcus told Joe he’d turned himself in early that morning, only to learn the true offender had already confessed. A teenager who regularly cut through Joe’s field to get to the lake had tossed a cigarette. It hadn’t taken long for the parched summer grass to ignite, and the resulting fire to spread.
“The sheriff said she’d give you a call.”
“So you’re in the clear.” Joe grinned and offered his hand, thought better of it and pulled Marcus into a hug. A self-conscious embrace made even more awkward by Noble, who shuffled into the kitchen in a black bathrobe decorated with lime-green palm trees and wrapped both arms around his guests. And squeezed tight. And made mmm-mmm-good sounds.
Joe was having trouble breathing. “Get off me, man.”
Once they’d disbanded and were able to look each other in the eye again, Joe nodded at Marcus. “I’m proud of you. Turning yourself in like that.”
“Kid’s got balls,” Noble said.
Joe shook his head. “He’s not a kid.”
Marcus picked up a mug and smoothed a finger over the lettering on the side, which spelled out Where in the Hell Is Castle Creek, Pennsylvania? “I guess you know what happened when I was...” He looked up. “I was going to do it, you know. Burn it down.”
“I probably would have felt the same.” Joe kept his gaze on Marcus but thrust his chin at Noble. “We’re sorry, man. All of us. For what you went through. You know if you ever need anything...” He let the sentence trail off. Had to. His throat had closed.
Marcus tightened his mouth in acknowledgment. Noble busied himself pouring the coffee.
“So what changed your mind?” Noble asked.
“Not ‘what.’ ‘Who.’” Marcus dipped his head, seemingly mesmerized by the process of stirring milk into his coffee. “I...ran into Liz Early.”
“Ah.” Noble slurped his coffee. “True love.”
“I dunno. Could be.” He lifted his gaze to Joe. “I came back so I could maybe deserve her one day. Like what you said. About Allison. That you’d do whatever it takes to convince her you deserve her.” He frowned. “Where is Allison, anyway?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ALLISON HAD JUST kicked off her pumps and slumped down onto the sofa when her doorbell rang. Instantly nerves erupted in her stomach—sparkles of rocketing heat, like fireworks on the Fourth of July. She sat up straight and bit her lip, flinched when the bell rang again.
She seriously considered ignoring it. If it wasn’t Sammy standing out in the hallway, it was likely Joe. She wasn’t interested in seeing either of them. But if she ignored Sammy he’d get petulant and mean, and if she ignored Joe...well, he might not come back.
This could be the last time they saw each other.
You’re a masochist, Allie.
Oh, yeah? Bite me.
A-a-and you just made my point.
Oh, for God’s sake. She was out of her mind. Had to be, if she was considering letting Joe inside her apartment. He’d already abused her heart twice—was she really up for a third round?
Slowly she stood, and crept over to the door. A careful eye to the peephole confirmed what her belly already knew. Joe. Wearing a suit. Looking stern. Holding a box.
Probably the items he was able to salvage out of her motel room.
Emotion crowded her throat. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t let him in. Seven long, lonely, wretched days had crawled by since she’d left Castle Creek, but it might as well have been an hour. If they talked they might manage to get some closure, but it wouldn’t happen without casualties.
With the two of them, there would always be casualties.
She swallowed against the thickness in her throat and leaned her forehead against the cool, painted surface. And must have made just enough noise to signal she was there, because he didn’t ring the bell again. Instead he spoke to her through the door.
“How about letting me in, Al?” Way to go, Allie. She dragged in a breath and peered through the peephole. He hefted the box. “I have chocolate.” When she didn’t say anything he faked a wince. “Don’t make me tell Hazel I left her gift in the hallway. She’ll never bake me another cake as long as I live.”
Allison sighed, and opened the door.
He walked in, nodded once, glanced around and set the box on the coffee table, which gave her a few seconds to catch her breath. And to check him out. He looked devastating in a charcoal-gray suit and blue silk tie, his jaw free of stubble, his hair less rumpled than usual. She was glad he hadn’t cut it.
He straightened, and shoved his hands into his pockets. She had hers linked at her belly, her fingers tangled into numbness. He cleared his throat and jabbed his chin at her lightweight suit, a favorite she’d worn to two interviews that morning.
“You look good,” he said.
“So do you.”
Several beats of silence. He cleared his throat again. “Here’s the thing.” He moved closer, yanking his hands out of his pockets and steepling his fingers. “I panicked. The motel was on fire, I couldn’t find you and when I did you made me think, for just a moment, that you were staying. Then you set me straight, and I—” He exhaled. “What I said had nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with watching my world fall apart in front of me. I was so damned determined not to let you down again and I did it anyway. I’m sorry.”
Her fingers were trembling. She put her hands behind her back, wishing she’d taken ten seconds to put her shoes on. She felt short, and powerless, and naked.
“You said what you did because I hurt you. And you wanted to hurt me back.”
“Maybe. A little juvenile, but not impossible. I am sorry, Al.”
“Apology accepted. I hope you’ll accept mine, as well.” She moved toward the door, suddenly glad she wasn’t having to maneuver in high heels after all. “If there’s nothing else you need...”
“I need you.”
The words seemed to echo in her sparse apartment. Her heart shifted beneath a hot, aching slide of regret, and her eyes misted. “I need you, too. But more than that, I need this world I created for myself. And you need the one you created in Castle Creek.”
“This world of yours is falling apart.”
“You’re rebuilding. I can, too.”
He raised a hand to his forehead and squeezed. “Help me understand. That day at the diner, after we found Mitzi, you talked about penance. Said my move to Castle Creek was my atonement.” He dropped his hand, used it to gesture at their surroundings. “Is this yours? Because you, living like this? Secondhand furniture—and very little of it—no knickknacks, or pictures of flowers on the walls? Driving a car too old to be reliable and worried every check you write might be the one that bounces? This is about more than being grateful to your mother. What is it you think you did to deserve this? To commit to paying this kind of price?”
Why had she let him in? “That’s none of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t.” He strode up to her, took her hands and pressed them between his. Bent his knees so they were eye to eye. “I love you. And I know you feel something for me. I’ll never forget that look on your face when I accused you—” His jaw muscles knotted. “Is it the alcohol? Because I’m proud to say I haven’t had a drink since that disaster with Marcus.”
Dear God in heaven, if she didn’t get him out of there soon she’d be nothing more than a hysterical mess. She tugged her hands free. “I’ve made it more tha
n clear. I have responsibilities.”
He straightened, and ran his fingers through his hair. So much for less rumpled. “I’m not asking you to choose between me and your mother. I’m asking you to let her live her own life, so you can live yours.”
“I was trying. Then you showed up.”
Joe took a jagged inhale. He followed it up with a bitter, dismal smile that freeze-dried her insides. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, battled to keep her chin from wobbling, the damp in her eyes from spilling.
“You don’t love me, Joe. You can’t love me and still believe I’d destroy your tribute to your brother. We don’t... There’s no trust between us.”
“I get it,” he said huskily. His hands went back into his pockets. “I guess you heard what really happened.”
“A careless kid with a cigarette. Ivy emailed me. She told me about Marcus, too. She said he works at the diner now?” She couldn’t imagine what he was dealing with, now that everyone in town knew about his wretched past.
“He’s pissed at me because of what I said to you. He’s not the only one. Then there’s the whole drunken ambush thing.” He grimaced, and leaned forward. “Just so you know, that day of the fire, I didn’t have anything to drink. I smelled like beer because Noble spilled his on me when Snoozy came running to tell us about the fire.”
“I knew you weren’t drunk, Joe. I was just...hoping you were.”
The room got quiet. He gave a sharp nod. “Listen, I talked to Tackett. Explained you weren’t the one who approached Mahoney. He wants to offer you an apology, and the position of Account Executive.” She started to protest and he shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be at T&P while you’re there. I made arrangements with Mahoney to do some freelance work from Castle Creek.”
“But...what about Tackett’s threat to sue?”
“We worked it out. Point is, you don’t have to refuse the job to avoid running into me. You don’t have to take it, either, but...you know what I mean.”
“I...thank you. And thanks for delivering the cake from Hazel.”
He waited, wanting more, but she didn’t have more to offer. Finally he made his way to the door, where he pulled an oblong box from an inside pocket. “I realized in all the time I’ve known you, I never bought you anything other than food—well, besides that damned pillow. I got this for you before the fire. It’s not an apology. It’s...just a gift.” He held out the box. “You can do what you like with it. Wear it, sell it, take a hammer to it...” He shrugged. “Your decision.”