by Larissa Ione
The veins in his neck stood out in thick ropes as he swallowed over and over, clenching and unclenching his fists to the rhythm of his anger. “It’s not important.”
“I think it is,” she pressed, sensing that they were at a crucial place in their relationship––if she could even call it that. He was nursing a wound that went deep, one that somehow tied into his anger tonight. “Tell me why you left.”
Muscles in his jaw flexed as he ground his teeth. Just when she thought he wouldn’t answer, he looked down at the ground and cursed. “I had to get out of town.”
“Why?” Again, he said nothing, so she reached out, clamped her hand on his arm. “Marcus, why?”
His head snapped up, and his haunted gaze bored into her with such pained intensity that she regretted pushing him.
“Because if I’d have stayed,” his said, his voice so deep and ragged it scraped gravel, “I’d have killed him, Brittany. I’d have fucking killed my own dad.”
* * * *
Marcus couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Couldn’t believe he’d just confessed something to Brittany that he’d not even admitted to Logan.
Or himself.
God, she must think him a monster.
He’d just been so angry back then. At his father for being an abusive bastard, at his mother for putting up with it, at himself for the lies he’d told to protect the family.
No, asshole, my dad wasn’t drunk when he drove the car into the creek. The sun was in his eyes. I don’t give a fuck what you heard at the coffee shop.
That’s not a belt mark on my back, Mrs. Harris. It’s a burn. Shouldn’t have been trying to crawl under an electric fence.
Yes, doctor, my mom slipped on the wet floor when she was mopping, just like she said.
Yep, Marcus was an expert in explaining away anything. Not even Logan knew the extent of the shit that had gone on in that house.
He looked away from Brit in shame. “Do you get it now?” he asked. “When I stay, I fight. Bad things happen. It’s better for everyone when I walk away.”
“No,” she said softly, and he had to give her credit for not screaming and running off in horror. “It’s not better for everyone. Don’t you dare walk away from me. Sometimes it’s okay to fight. Fight for me, for the possibility of us.”
Jesus. Was she for real? He turned back to her, wondering if she’d heard a word he’d said. “Is that really what you want? Because your family isn’t going to let this fly without a battle, and I’ll give it to them. Once I engage, I don’t back down.”
She inhaled sharply, and he damn near looked away again, afraid to see the revulsion in her expression. Instead, he saw determination. Admiration. And heat that scorched his skin.
“I want that.” She poked him in the chest, emphasizing her fierce words. “I want what you’ve got to offer. Everything you’ve got to offer.”
God, she was gorgeous. A blonde bundle of fury who wasn’t afraid to go toe-to-toe for what she wanted. And what she wanted was him.
The very idea humbled him.
He hadn’t come to town looking for a relationship...hell, it had been the last thing on his mind when he’d blown past the city limits sign doing twenty over. But spending time with Brittany had turned out to be the best part about being back. They didn’t know each other that well, so there was no rehashing of old memories with her. Instead, they made new ones, something he desperately needed in a place where every good memory was tarnished by a bad one.
But he couldn’t ask her to risk her relationship with her family to be with him, especially if he was leaving. And he certainly couldn’t ask her to move to Montana or something. Could he?
Maybe...maybe he really could stay. At least until Brittany graduated from college. That way, he could be here for his mom and sisters, and Ian’s ranch would still be waiting for him. It wasn’t as if Ian needed him right away, after all. Marcus could even fly back and help out until he found more ranch hands.
She poked him again, a not-so-subtle reminder that she was waiting for a response to her saying she wanted him.
And how crazy was that? She knew he didn’t have a college degree, knew he came from a dysfunctional family, knew he wasn’t rolling in money, and she still wanted him. Hell, she was fighting for him.
Something primal rose up in him, swallowing everything that made him civil. No more being nice or noble or whatever bullshit quality he thought would make him good enough for the standup townspeople of Storm. He belonged here every bit as much as anyone else, and it was time to stake his claim.
Brittany was his.
In a smooth surge, he gripped her shoulders and spun her up against the tree. As she gasped in surprise, he dipped his head and took her mouth hard. She tasted like the vanilla frosting she’d licked off her finger, smelled like sunshine and apples, and son of a bitch, he’d never think of those things the same way again.
Her hands came up to grip his biceps and pull him even closer, deepening the kiss, and he groaned when she arched into him, no doubt discovering his rapidly swelling erection.
Heart pounding, his body becoming feverish as she began to grind her hips against him, he tangled his tongue with hers, loving the press of her breasts on his chest as their breaths grew labored.
A horn honked nearby, and shit, they were in public, weren’t they? Probably a good thing because it was way too early in their relationship to rip off her clothes and do things to her that were illegal in this state.
Still kissing her, he eyeballed their surroundings, making sure they weren’t giving little kids a lesson in the birds and the bees.
And that’s when he saw it. The unmistakable shine of Marylee Rush’s silver Mercedes. It was parked at the courthouse, and Marylee herself was sitting at the wheel, her cool gaze focused on them.
It was probably all kinds of wrong of him to enjoy the familiar hot rush of adrenaline as it sang through his veins, igniting the call to combat he used to get off on. But he’d just said that once engaged, he fought to the bloody end, and if Marylee wanted to watch, he’d give her one hell of a show.
Dropping his hands to Brittany’s hips, he rocked into her, eliciting the sweetest, sexiest gasps from her soft mouth. And as he kissed her, he defiantly drilled his gaze into the driver’s side window of Marylee’s car.
Too soon, distant voices and children’s happy squeals came closer, and he reluctantly pulled back. Brittany’s eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen, and he got an instant, erotic preview of how she’d look after several hours of lovemaking.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “What do you say we hit Murphy’s and cool off with a beer?” It wasn’t what he wanted, because he’d much rather get hotter than cooler, but he was going to do things right with Brittany.
“I’m game.” She pushed away from the tree, and he felt a twinge of masculine pride at the way her legs were shaky.
Damn, he’d come back to Storm determined to keep his temper, be respectable, and be respectful. And he would. Mostly. But he wanted Brittany, and he wasn’t going to put up with her family’s shit or let anyone get between him and what was his.
So as he slung his arm around her, he shot one more look at her grandma’s car and hoped she got the message.
Marcus was back in town, and this time, no one was going to chase him away.
Chapter Twelve
Sebastian Rush was having a shitty day. A shitty week, really.
He’d been too busy to hook up with Dakota, but at the same time, she was starting to get on his nerves. Yes, she was malleable and had a tight body and a mouth that could suck an armadillo through a fire hose, but she was also clingy and demanding, and he was starting to suspect that she had a vengeful streak that could cause him trouble eventually.
At least with Ginny, he’d known she could keep her mouth shut. Hell, that brat she was carrying could be his, but she’d managed to convince everyone in town that his late nephew, J
acob, was the father. It might be true––he hoped like hell it was–– but she could have blackmailed him into bankruptcy if she’d wanted to.
He had a feeling that in the same situation Dakota would use the kid to extort what she wanted from him. Attention, money, power...whatever struck her fancy.
Yes, there was definitely an expiration date on their relationship. He just hoped he could keep her for a little while longer. It would be a shame to give up her hot body until he’d used it in every way he could.
He heard the clack of high heels on the tile outside his office, and a moment later, his mother entered. She looked the way she always did, her clothes pressed and neat, her makeup flawless, and not a hair out of place. He figured her hair was afraid to be messy. And, as usual, she looked like she had a bug up her pencil skirt.
“We might have a problem,” she said in an icy huff.
“Hello to you too, Mother.” He leaned back in his chair and stared at her from across his desk. “What now?”
“I just saw Brittany with Marcus Alvarez.”
At the mere mention of that piece of trash’s name, Sebastian’s temples began to throb. Marcus had thought he was so tough, making that impotent threat. But while the guy had barely managed to graduate from high school, Sebastian was confident Marcus was streetwise enough to know he was outclassed in every way.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he flipped his favorite ballpoint Montblanc between his fingers. “I put the fear of God into him yesterday. He was probably telling her he wasn’t interested.”
“Do his people have a different way of doing that than we do? Because I’m pretty sure his tongue was down her throat.”
His hand tightened on the pen. “Are you certain?”
“I might not have a man in my life, but I haven’t forgotten what kissing is. And this was no chaste peck.”
That mongrel son of a bitch. “This is the last thing I need right now.”
“Well, if it helps, I have a little good news. I heard back from Dr. Williams in Dallas. He’ll be here for the Founders’ Day celebration.”
Excellent. The good doctor was extremely influential in the medical community, and Sebastian had been courting his support for months. Too bad his specialty was in psychiatry, though. Sebastian hated shrinks. They made him nervous, the way they always seemed to be analyzing every word you said. Oh, he could charm his way through any conversation, but one little slip, and they started tossing around words like narcissist. Sex addict. Sociopath.
“That is good news, indeed,” he mused.
“Even better, the Seagraves and Abernathys are both coming to the festival, and they’re bringing their sons.” Her calculating, cold smile could give the devil frostbite. “I’m sure I can find a way to get Brittany interested in one of them.”
More good news. Both families were well-respected, wealthy, and influential. The Abernathys had, in a short fifty years, built an empire on Texas oil, while the Seagraves came from old Virginia money and divided their time between their mansion in San Antonio and their mansion just outside of Richmond. The Seagraves’ son, Andrew, had recently graduated with honors from Yale Law School, while the Abernathys’ son, Gavin, was studying to be a doctor at Harvard. Either would make a fine match with Brittany.
Assuming Marcus was out of the picture.
“We’ll nudge Brittany in the right direction, and if that fails, maybe we’ll catch a break and Hector will come back before things get too serious.” It shouldn’t be too difficult to send out feelers to find the guy and do a little “nudging” for him, too. “With any luck, Marcus and his father will kill each other and solve the problem.”
The shrewd twinkle in Marylee’s eyes was an admirable thing. “Yes,” she said softly. “Wouldn’t that be perfect?”
A phone buzzed from inside her purse, and as he sipped his whiskey, she checked her messages, a smile brightening her features.
“You look like the cat that ate the canary,” he drawled.
“Oh, yes.” She grinned. “And the canary’s name is Marcus.”
* * * *
As Brittany stepped out onto the backyard patio, she was still on a giddy high after last night.
She and Marcus had spent an hour at Murphy’s, where he’d kicked her ass at darts. Between turns, they’d talked about her college courses and his time in Montana. She’d wanted to ask more about his life, to go a little deeper, but there was a part of him that seemed to hold back, and she didn’t want to spook him. Not after she’d finally, after all these years, piqued his interest.
No, she was going to take it slow, which was something different for her. She’d always been more of an “all in” girl, which, now that she looked back on it, hadn’t been the smartest way to build a relationship. Moving fast had gotten the guy, for sure, but things never lasted. She shouldn’t even have been surprised when her one serious relationship had ended only eight months in after she caught the jerk in a lie.
This time, with Marcus, she was determined to build a foundation based on honesty and respect before she fell head over heels.
Too late.
Okay, yes, she’d been head over heels since the first day she saw him all those years ago.
Tossing her towel onto a chair next to the pool, she smiled in remembrance of their parting kiss outside Murphy’s, when he’d pinned her to her car with his body and kissed her until all of her noble plans to move slow were nothing but vague ideas. Still, he’d kept things strictly PG-rated, skirting the line with PG-13 when his thumbs had brushed the sides of her breasts. As his breathing grew ragged, matching hers, he’d finally stepped back and said good-bye.
They hadn’t set another date, but he’d said he’d call.
She wished he’d hurry.
At least she had a full day of work ahead of her after her morning swim, which would take her mind off wondering when she’d hear from him.
As she started for the diving board, she heard the sliding glass door open behind her.
“Good morning, dear,” Marylee called out.
Brit turned, squinting in the bright sunlight to see her grandmother step outside. “Morning. You’re up early.”
“Your father and I have some pressing business.” Marylee pulled a mirror from her purse and checked her makeup as she spoke. “He mentioned you were out late last night.”
Brit was in too good of a mood to be irritated that her father had not only noticed what time she’d gotten home, but that he’d ratted her out to her grandmother as well.
“I was out with Marcus,” she said, taking a perverse pleasure in bucking her family’s expectations of a “good match,” as her grandmother liked to say.
To Brittany’s disappointment, Marylee’s lack of reaction said she’d already known. Then she snapped her mirror compact shut so forcefully that Brit jumped. “Isn’t it nice that you’re spending time with him before he leaves?”
The lack of sincerity in Marylee’s words nearly had Brit rolling her eyes...until what her grandmother had said sank in. “Wait.” She stared at Marylee like a dolt. “Before he leaves?”
“Oh, dear, you didn’t know?” Marylee asked with a little too much relish. “He’s going back to Montana.”
Relief washed over Brit because her grandmother was clearly mistaken. “Of course he isn’t. He would have said something last night.” Wouldn’t he? After all, only a jerk would start a relationship when they knew they were leaving, and Marcus was not a jerk.
“Really?” Marylee pulled her phone from out of her purse. “Because I received this text from his mother. It says he won’t be around for the Founders’ Day event because he’s going back.”
Brittany grabbed the phone, and sure enough, there on the screen, a note from Joanne made it very clear that Marcus had no intention of staying in Storm.
Heart plummeting to her feet, Brittany clutched the phone so hard the screen should have cracked.
Marcus had lied to her. He’d said that once he engaged, he didn�
�t back down...and boy, had he engaged.
It’s better for everyone when I walk away.
Abruptly, she felt sick to her stomach. When they’d been in the town square, he’d tried to warn her that when things got intense, he had a habit of walking away, and she hadn’t listened. She’d let herself believe that they had a shot at a relationship. And he’d kissed her like she mattered, while the entire time, he’d been planning to leave.
Offering her grandmother a shaky smile, she returned the phone and excused herself, saying she’d changed her mind about her morning swim.
But the truth was that she didn’t want her grandmother to see her cry.
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Rising Storm story
Storm Season: Ginny & Jacob – the Prequel
by Dee Davis
Rising Storm
Storm, Texas.
Where passion runs hot, desire runs deep, and secrets have the power to destroy…
Nestled among rolling hills and painted with vibrant wildflowers, the bucolic town of Storm, Texas, seems like nothing short of perfection.
But there are secrets beneath the facade. Dark secrets. Powerful secrets. The kind that can destroy lives and tear families apart. The kind that can cut through a town like a tempest, leaving jealousy and destruction in its wake, along with shattered hopes and broken dreams. All it takes is one little thing to shatter that polish.
Rising Storm is a series conceived by Julie Kenner and Dee Davis to read like an on-going drama. Set in a small Texas town, Rising Storm is full of scandal, deceit, romance, passion, and secrets. Lots of secrets.