Sullivan's Promise

by Joan Johnston

  “There’s another one of you out there?” Pete asked, his eyebrows rising nearly to his hairline.

  Lexie has a twin? There are two women like her out there in the world? Rye was appalled at his ignorance.

  “We’re not identical,” Lexie said. “Taylor and I don’t look much alike. She’s far more beautiful.”

  “I find that impossible to believe,” Pete said, taking her hand in his.

  Rye gritted his teeth and bit the inside of his cheek.

  Lexie smiled. “We were best friends growing up. Taylor’s expecting twins, and I was planning to be there when she delivers.” She shot a look at Rye. “Now, I’m not so sure that’ll be possible.”

  “We can make arrangements for Cody’s care while you’re gone,” Rye interjected.

  She looked Rye in the eye and said, “I’d love to take him with me. So my family can meet him.”

  “They’ve never met him?” Pete said. “He’s five years old!”

  Lexie pulled her hand free of Pete’s and knotted it with the other on the table in front of her. “They would have needed to come to Montana to meet him, since the custody agreement doesn’t allow me to take him out of state.”

  Rye felt Pete’s eyes on him, making it clear what a sonofabitch he thought Rye was for keeping Cody from meeting his Wyoming relatives. He felt his ears getting red, but he wasn’t about to make excuses to Pete Harrison. What Lexie had told Pete was the truth, but not the whole truth.

  Rye had given Lexie permission to take Cody to Jackson Hole to meet her family the previous Christmas, only to discover that she hadn’t yet told them about Cody’s existence. He’d reneged on his promise, because he didn’t think it was fair to Cody to put him in that situation. Rye had insisted she break the news to her family before she showed up with Cody in tow.

  “You’ve told your family that you have a son living here in Montana?” Rye asked.

  She lifted her chin. “Taylor knows. And she’s the one I plan to visit.”

  He bit his tongue, unwilling to argue with her.

  Pete’s phone rang. As he retrieved it from his jeans pocket he said, “Sorry, but I have to keep it on.” He looked at the screen, answered, and said, “Where? I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He wore an apologetic expression when he turned back to Lexie. “We’ll have to cut this short. There’s a five-car pileup on U.S. 93 south of Kalispell.”

  Rye said, “I can take Lexie home. That’ll save you time.”

  Pete looked torn. He focused his gaze on Lexie and said, “Would you mind?”

  She took her lower lip in her teeth for twenty full seconds before she said, “Not at all. Your job is important. Do what you need to do.”

  Pete threw enough money on the table to cover the check and the tip and said, “I’ll make it up to you another time.”

  Rye was feeling relieved knowing that Pete wouldn’t be holding Lexie in his arms while they danced or holding her hand during the drive home or maybe kissing her and doing a little petting in his truck before she headed inside.

  She must have read his mind, because when Pete rose to leave, she did, too. She intercepted Pete on his way to the coatrack and twined her arms around his neck, pressing her body to his from breasts to hips. She whispered something in his ear that made him smile, then kissed him, all the while watching Rye with one eye over Pete’s shoulder, making sure he was seeing what she was doing in explicit detail.

  It was hard to miss the fact that her tongue was in Pete’s mouth, and his was in hers. Rye wouldn’t have watched, except it was like passing that five-car pileup on the highway. He couldn’t seem to turn away.

  Pete finally broke the kiss, his fingers sieving through Lexie’s hair before he said something Rye couldn’t hear that made her laugh. Then Pete grabbed his coat, slung his arms into it, and hurried out the door.

  A moment later, Lexie was back at the table, but she didn’t sit next to Rye. She took the spot Pete had vacated. She looked him in the eye and said, “I think it’s time we had a talk.”

  VICK FOCUSED HER narrowed gaze on Sullivan. “I don’t appreciate your tagging along on my date.” He didn’t look the least bit repentant. She arched a brow and waited. “No apology?”

  Sullivan met her gaze with lazy-lidded eyes. “I’m not sorry.”

  She hitched in a breath. “What’s going on, Sullivan?”

  “My name is Rye.”

  The sound of his voice, rough and low, sent a shiver down her spine. Vick shook her head, confused by what she saw in Sullivan’s eyes. Or rather, not believing what she saw. Tension always flared between them whenever they got within ten feet of each other. This was something else. Something more compelling. Something more powerful. Something that had lain dormant for years and been reignited during their naked encounter in the bathroom.

  Vick rose abruptly, her chair screeching on the wooden floor. “I want to go home.”

  “Sure. Let’s go.”

  Then she realized that leaving the bar wouldn’t really solve her problem. She was going to be trapped with Ryan Sullivan in the cab of his pickup for the entire time it took to get back to his ranch north of town. She grabbed her coat, but he took it from her and held it until she slipped her arms inside. He turned her around and zipped her into it, an act she found surprisingly intimate, before shoving his arms into his own coat. She hurried away from the masculine hand she felt at her back, guiding her toward the door.

  When she got outside, Vick realized she had no idea where Sullivan had parked.

  “Around the corner,” he said, aiming her in the opposite direction from the one she was headed.

  She grabbed the door handle as soon as she reached his pickup, in an attempt to avoid the courtesy he’d been showing her so far. The door was locked. She turned to him in exasperation. “Who locks their doors in Whitefish?”

  “I have a rifle racked in the back window and a Glock in the glove compartment.”

  “Oh.” So maybe locking the door made sense. She waited impatiently for the click that signaled the door was unlocked and managed not to jerk when he put an arm under her elbow to assist her into his pickup.

  Frosty plumes rose inside the cab, which was how she knew she was hyperventilating. She forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out. Sullivan wasn’t going to do anything she didn’t want him to do. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She wanted him to kiss her and hold her and touch her…and put himself inside her.

  The danger of that was obvious. She didn’t want to get hurt. And she didn’t trust Sullivan’s motives where she was concerned. Why now? She’d dated other men, and he hadn’t made a peep. What was different about tonight?

  She gave Sullivan a sideways glance. His jaw muscles flexed, as though his teeth were gritted. “What’s going on, Rye?”

  She hadn’t intended to use his first name. She had too many memories of using it the night they’d spent together. Calling him “Sullivan” all these years had kept him at an emotional distance. But something had happened tonight to bring down the wall he’d put up between them.

  He huffed out a breath and said, “I’m tired of fighting this…thing…between us.”

  She angled her body to focus on his face, but he stubbornly refused to look at her, keeping his eyes on the road. “Why now?”

  “Why not?”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “Life is short. Anything can happen. There are no guarantees.”

  “So this—” She gestured a hand between them. “Is what? A response to the grizzly attack on Mike?”

  “That’s certainly part of it.”

  She felt the hairs prickle on her arms as she realized what else might be involved. “Does this change in attitude toward me have anything to do with what you found out about yourself at the hospital?”

  “You mean t
hat my parents may not be my parents? If somebody could give me away, I’m thinking what you did wasn’t so bad. At least you realized your mistake and did something about it.”

  “I thought you didn’t give second chances.”

  “I’ve been rethinking that whole black-and-white philosophy my father taught me. Especially in light of the colossal lie I was told my whole life.”

  He swore as the truck skidded on black ice and veered toward the sturdy trunk of a very large pine. Vick reflexively grabbed the dash. Her heart rose to her throat before the pickup finally slithered to a stop, leaning perilously over the berm and threatening to roll into a gully beside the road. She was afraid to move, for fear her weight would be all that was needed to tumble them the rest of the way over.

  Sullivan was out of the truck an instant later standing on the highway, grabbing her hands as she scrambled past the steering wheel, and pulling her out of the pickup. His arms folded tightly around her, and she clung to him, marveling that they’d survived unhurt.

  He exhaled a shuddering sigh. “That was close.”

  Too close. End of the line close. No more chances close, Vick thought. It could have been all over for both of them. She met Sullivan’s gaze in the moonlight and saw that he’d experienced the same terror as she had—and was feeling the same aftershocks.

  A moment later, his mouth sought hers, his tongue finding its way inside, insisting she catch up and take the dangerous curves along with him, then appealing for more, enticing her to join him on a wild ride of passion.

  He twisted his hands in her hair, holding her head so he could slake his thirst, as she twined her arms around his neck, but their bodies were robbed of further touch because of their bulky coats. Their breathing was laborious, their tongues dueling as they mimicked the sex act, until a blaring horn and a pair of bright headlights forced them apart.

  It’s still there, Vick thought with despair as she stared up at Sullivan, her chest heaving, the blood racing in her veins. Everything that had been there that long-ago night was still there. But now those memories were mixed with new sensations. The smell of a different aftershave. The callused pads of Rye’s fingers hot against her cold skin. The scratchiness of a two-day-old beard against her cheek, when he’d been clean-shaven. The supple play of his lips against hers, more desperate and demanding. The strength of his embrace, which promised a surely elusive safety from all harm.

  Everything about Ryan Sullivan appealed to her. Why him? Why this man above all others? What was it about Ryan Sullivan that made her come alive in his arms?

  Vick wondered if the look in her eyes was as unsatisfied—and guarded—as his.

  He moved her out of danger from traffic and said, “Let me get my truck back on the road, so we can get out of here.”

  He didn’t say where they were going, whether back home or to a hotel in Whitefish or her lonely cabin in the woods. She didn’t really give a damn.

  Once he’d eased his pickup onto the highway, he reached across the cab and opened the door for her. She quickly climbed in and shut the door and buckled herself in.

  She saw he was headed the same direction and asked, “Where are we going?”

  “To hell probably,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on the road.

  So much for getting a direct answer. When he took the turnoff for the Rafter S, Vick soughed out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Was that it? Was he going to pretend nothing had happened? Were they going back to their separate rooms at his ranch?

  “Rye…” Vick wasn’t sure what to say, because she wasn’t sure what she wanted. Or rather, she knew what she wanted, she just wasn’t sure whether she ought to ask for it. What if having sex caused a rift between them, and she had to move out? She would lose this precious chance to spend time with her son. Was one night of passion worth the price she might have to pay?

  What if it’s not just one night? What if it’s the rest of your life?

  What if it wasn’t? What if Sullivan was merely satisfying his curiosity? What if he just wanted sex because he was…How had he put it? Tired of fighting this…thing…between us.

  He pulled his pickup to a stop at the back door, unsnapped his seat belt, and angled his body toward her. When he opened his mouth to speak, she pressed her fingertips against his lips.

  “No, Rye. As much as I want…this…I don’t think it’s a good idea. So I’m saying no.”

  She fumbled to get her seat belt loose, then shoved open the door, and ran for the house.

  He caught her before she’d taken five steps and turned her around. “You didn’t give me a chance to speak.”

  “I had a pretty good idea what you were going to say.”

  “All right. Let’s hear it.” He made a “come on” gesture.

  “You want to finish what we started.”

  “I do. Absolutely. But not what we started tonight.”

  She frowned in confusion and waited for him to explain.

  Sullivan yanked off his Stetson and shoved a frustrated hand through his hair, before putting it back on and tugging it low on his forehead. “I want a chance to finish what we started in Jackson.”

  Vick’s frown grew deeper, putting creases in her forehead and between her brows. “What we started? Nothing got started in Jackson.”

  He shook his head. “Our chance for a future together. Our chance to spend our lives together. You cut that short by running away. I want a chance to see what might have happened if you’d stuck around.”

  RYE DIDN’T KNOW where he’d gotten the nerve to speak, but he wasn’t sorry he’d poured out his guts. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected Lexie to say or do, but he was stunned by her response.

  She laughed.

  The burble of sound was more amused than hysterical, Rye thought, but still disconcerting.

  Her laughter stopped abruptly, and her voice was harsh when she spoke. “It’s too late, Rye. You can’t turn one night of bliss into more than it was. You know nothing about me.”

  “I know one very important thing,” he said. “Cody is the center of your life, its beating heart. Do you deny it?”

  “No.” She lifted her chin defiantly, as though it was a shameful thing to admit, when she was supposedly so dedicated to her work.

  “And you can’t discount what we feel when we’re together.”

  “Lust?” She said the word like an epithet.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t deny he felt lust. And he wasn’t in any position to suggest his feelings for her might be something more lofty. Love wasn’t even a glimmer on the horizon.

  “Lust isn’t a bad thing.”

  “Unless it’s the only thing,” she snapped.

  “Like I said, we need time to see whether we’re compatible in other ways besides sex.”

  The frown was back between her brows. “What is it you’re suggesting?”

  “I’m not sure, exactly. Dating seems absurd when we’re living in the same house.”

  “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

  “Did I mention sex?” He’d been thinking plenty about it, but the fact was he hadn’t put it on the table. At least, not since she’d taken it off in no uncertain terms.

  “I’m listening,” she said.

  He had no idea where to go from here. “We could commit to having meals together.”

  “We’re already doing that.”

  “And washing dishes together.”

  “Also doing that.”

  “And spending time together doing things with Cody.”

  “I would love that,” she admitted.

  “Let’s try that for a week, and see how it goes. Agreed?” he said, extending his hand.

  She set her gloved hand in his, met his gaze, and said, “Agreed.”

  He pulled her close and leaned down
, waiting to see if she was willing to seal their deal with a kiss. She’d just turned her face up to his, when the back porch light flicked on, blinding him.

  Rye held up a hand against the glare as the screen door opened, and his sister stuck her head out. “You can send Mizz Grizzly Bear home,” Amy Beth said. “I’m here to take care of Cody.”

  Rye almost groaned aloud. He’d completely forgotten about making that phone call to Amy Beth. He loved his little sister, but sometimes she was a real pain in the ass. He caught the stricken look on Lexie’s face and grabbed her hand to keep her from bolting, as he tromped up the steps and forced Amy Beth back into the kitchen. “What are you doing home? Mom told you to stay at school.”

  “I was worried about Mike,” she said. “And Mom.”

  “Mom?”

  “She sounded…funny. Strange. Not like Mom.”

  Rye knew what Amy Beth meant, because he had a pretty good idea why their mom sounded “strange.” She was holding on to a pretty big secret, and the longer she kept it, the heavier it weighed on her soul.

  Amy Beth’s intuition was correct, but her timing couldn’t have been worse. The problem was how to get rid of her, now that she was here.

  Rye could feel Lexie tugging on his hand, trying to edge backward out the door. He met her gaze and said, “Don’t go,” then turned to Amy Beth. “You’ll have to stay in Mom’s room tonight, since Lexie is using your room. You can head back to Missoula tomorrow.”

  “I’m staying here till Mike’s well.”

  “There’s nothing you can do for Mike that isn’t already being done. There’s no sense getting behind in your studies. It’ll just be one more thing Mom has to worry about, and that Mike will feel guilty about, once he’s well enough to come home.”

  “Mike would—”

  “Mike wouldn’t want you to fuss over him,” Rye said flatly.

  Amy Beth dropped her chin, acknowledging the point. When she lifted her head again, tears had brimmed in her eyes.

  Rye’s gut twisted. He couldn’t stand it when his little sister was hurting. He let go of Lexie and pulled Amy Beth into his arms, holding her close and rocking her. “Mike is going to be fine,” he said in a soothing voice. He wanted to believe that. Had to believe it. “We need to keep doing what has to be done. Mom will keep an eye on Mike and let us know if we need to be there.”