Irresistibly Mine

by Stephanie Rowe

  Irresistibly Mine

  A Birch Crossing Novel

  Stephanie Rowe

  SBD Press

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Never Says No

  Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Never Walks Away

  Sneak Peek: Leopard’s Kiss

  Sneak Peek: Unintentionally Mine

  Books By Stephanie Rowe

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Irresistibly Mine (a Birch Crossing novel). Copyright © 2016 by Stephanie Rowe.

  ISBN 10: 1-940968-42-9

  ISBN 13: 9781940968421

  Cover design © 2016 by Kelli Ann Morgan, Inspire Creative Services.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, disseminated, or transmitted in any form or by any means or for any use, including recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the author and/or the artist. The only exception is short excerpts or the cover image in reviews. Please be a leading force in respecting the right of authors and artists to protect their work. This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel or on the cover are either products of the author’s or artist's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author or the artist. There are excerpts from other books by the author in the back of the book.

  Chapter 1

  He couldn't do this anymore.

  Blue Carboni sat on the edge of his bed in the darkness, his tee shirt drenched with sweat, his forearms braced on his knees. His skin was burning up, his hands were shaking, and his mouth was parched as if he'd been stranded in the jungle for days without access to fresh water.

  It felt like malaria, but he knew he wasn't that lucky. It was just his own fucked up headspace making his body shut down.

  He bent his head, trying to even out his breathing, but even that basic survival skill eluded him.

  Swearing, he stood up and walked over to the window of his one-room apartment. He braced his hands on the sill, and looked out across the bright, blinking lights of the New York City night skyline. He liked living in the city. He thrived in the crazed urgency of the urban world where everything moved so fast that he had no time to slow down and think, reflect, or absorb his life.

  He'd always loved this city...until now. Over the last month, the lights, noise, and crowds felt like an assault to his senses, spinning him in different directions so fast he couldn't get his balance. The window of his apartment was streaked with dirt that the landlord would never pay to get cleaned. The dirt had never bothered Blue before, but right now, he felt claustrophobic, desperate to be able to breathe, to feel his ribs expand, to do something to get that constant, incessant tension out of his muscles.

  He was used to nightmares. Hell, he'd lived with the same one every single day since he was fourteen. But he couldn't shake it this time. He just couldn't do it. Every time darkness fell, every time the sunshine faded, images assaulted him.

  He was supposed to be on a plane tomorrow morning to South America, to rescue another kidnap victim. It was his first job back since everything had gone to shit a few weeks ago. He closed his eyes and pictured walking off that plane into the blazing South American heat—

  Panic hit him, so hard, so suddenly, that he couldn't breathe. Swearing, he went down on his knees, gripping the windowsill. Desperately, he reached for his phone, sitting there on his nightstand like a crutch for people too weak to handle life on their own. A crutch he'd avoided using...but he knew he was too far over the edge. He couldn't get back on his own, not this time.

  His fingers shaking, he hit one of the two numbers listed on his favorites. One was for his handler at work. The other was for Harlan Shea, the man who'd been his partner for almost ten years, until retiring from the business almost a year ago. Blue leaned his head against the windowsill and closed his eyes, listening to it ring. It was three in the morning, but it didn't matter.

  Sure enough, Harlan answered on the second ring, sounding completely alert, even though it was the middle of the night. "Blue. What's wrong?"

  Blue closed his eyes and tightened his grip on his phone, the words dying in this throat. What was he going to do? Announce that he'd lost his shit, like some pansy-assed wuss?

  "Blue. Talk to me."

  He suddenly didn't want to talk to Harlan. He didn't want to tell him what had happened a month ago. He didn't want to hear the blame, or, even worse, be told it wasn't his fault. So, instead, he just said nothing. But he didn't hang up.

  Harlan was quiet for a moment, and Blue could hear his friend's breathing. He knew Harlan could hear his as well.

  Finally, Harlan spoke. "You know my cabin? The one I lived in before I married Emma and moved in with her?"

  Blue nodded. "The shack on the lake?" His voice was raw and hoarse.

  "Yeah. I still own it. You want to crash there for a few days?"

  Blue tightened his grip on his phone, his head still pressing against the windowsill. "Go to Birch Crossing? I'm a city guy. I don't fit in some rural town in Maine. Hell, you guys have town softball games and shit like that."

  Harlan laughed. "Hey, don't knock the town softball games. I'm team captain this summer, and I even designed the tee shirts myself...with Emma's help, of course, but I still take some credit."

  "You're team captain? Seriously?" Blue tried to imagine Harlan designing softball tee shirts for town fun night, but he couldn't reconcile that image with the man who'd slunk through sleeping terrorist camps with him to snatch kidnap victims in the dark of the night.

  "Damn right I'm serious," Harlan said. "Best night of the week is game night. We have a game tomorrow night. You could come. Maybe pitch a couple innings?"

  The image of a little league game flashed through Blue's mind, a game from so long ago, back before his life had been torn to shreds. He'd been a pitcher once. He'd played sports for fun once. A faint yearning echoed through him, but he quickly shut it down. "I'm not driving to Maine to play softball."

  "Yeah, softball is probably outside your skillset. No problem. You can just hole up in the cabin instead."

  Blue frowned. "It's not outside my skillset. I'm a damned good athlete."

  "Nah, I hear you. Whittling would probably be better for you. It's a good solitary activity."

  "Whittling?" Blue raised his brows. "Like with a jackknife?"

  "Yeah, make loons out of downed trees or something. You could sell 'em at some local craft store and get insanely wealthy and retire on a lake in Maine... Oh, wait, I already offered you a chance to hang out on a lake in Maine for free without having to become a famous wood artist first. Damn, you're a lucky guy."

  A strangled laugh forced its way out. Shit, he'd missed Harlan. It had been almost a year since Harlan had quit, and they hadn't talked much since then. Maybe that had been a
mistake. No one grounded him like Harlan had, which was why he'd called him tonight. "I don't see myself whittling loons," he replied, "but thanks for the offer. I'm not hauling my ass to Maine. I just wanted to interrupt your sleep like old times." He tried to shove lightness into his tone, not quite ready to cut himself off from the normalcy of the conversation. "So, yeah, how's married life? You catching on to the dad thing?"

  "I heard, Blue. I know what happened."

  Blue swore, his amusement gone. "That's private —"

  "Call Renée. Tell her you're taking some time off. Get your ass in your truck, come to Birch Crossing, and clear your head."

  "I'm fine. I don't need a break —"

  "What oath did we take when we started working together?"

  Blue sighed. He remembered all too clearly the day he and Harlan had realized that their lives would be in each other's hands. That they had to trust each other so deeply or they'd never come home alive from each trip. "We swore that we'd be honest if the other one had a shitty plan."

  "Yeah, and you have a shitty plan if you think you can get on a plane and head back into the field. If you do, you're going to get yourself or someone else killed."

  Blue's skin became ice cold at Harlan's words, and suddenly, he couldn't get air. Fuck. A panic attack? Seriously? What the hell?

  "Pack some clothes," Harlan said. "Grab /your keys. Get in your truck. Drive north. Do it now."

  Blue dug his fingers into his palms. "I'm supposed to fly out in the morning. Renée needs me —"

  "Renée doesn't need you. She has a big staff now. If you never worked another job for her, she'd still have plenty of people to save the day. You know that."

  He fisted his hand, unwilling to acknowledge the reality he didn't want to hear. "I'm better than the others —"

  "Better? Not now, you're not. You're so screwed up in the head right now that you shouldn't even be out there. Right now, you're a liability."

  Denial thundered through Blue. "I'm not a liability."

  "Yeah, you are. I know, because I was your partner for almost a decade, and I saw you like this one other time. You remember?"

  Blue gritted his jaw. "Yeah, I remember." He always did his best not to remember, and he refused to let his mind go there now, but it was always at the edges of his consciousness, trying to get through. He'd lost his shit once before, and although it hadn't had any cataclysmic consequences, it had been a grim reminder of the edge on which he lived, a stark truth about how precarious his focus was.

  "Are you going to get through this one alone? Are you going to get through it by heading off into the jungle with a new team you won't meet until you get off the plane?" Harlan's voice softened. "You need time, bro. You haven't had a vacation in more than ten years. Take a couple days. A week. A month. Whatever it takes."

  "I don't need a vacation." Blue grabbed the windowsill and surged to his feet. He leaned on the cracked wood and stared out the window at the city lights...and his heart started racing again, a frenzied, out-of-control hammering that he couldn't quiet. Swearing, he realized Harlan was right. He was a liability, because he couldn't get control of his nightmares. Damn. He knew he had no choice. Too much relied on him when he went out in the field, and the one thing he would never sacrifice was the safety of others. Grimly, he nodded. "Okay. I'll come."

  Harlan didn't hesitate. "When?"

  Blue knew that if he went back to bed, or if he waited till morning, or took time for a shower, he'd never do it. Instead, he'd be on a plane, heading to hell, and hoping that this would be the trip that would finally heal the chasm inside his soul. It never was, but it was the only way he knew to try.

  This moment was his only window to get away from that cycle. He had to go now. He kicked open his closet door and grabbed the bag he always kept packed, in case he had to leave in a hurry. "I'm leaving now."

  "Good. See you in seven hours."

  "I'm only staying for a couple days —"

  But Harlan had already hung up.

  Blue shoved his phone into his back pocket, grabbed his keys and wallet from his dresser, then walked out.

  Maine.

  He was going to Maine. What the hell was he going to find in Maine? He didn't know, but Harlan had found peace there. Maybe he would too.

  As he jogged down the back stairs, his keys jangling in his hand, Blue had a sinking feeling in his gut that this was his last chance.

  * * *

  Rock bottom wasn't exactly a life goal to which Chloe Dalton had ever aspired to, but as long as she was going to hit it, at least she could do it with a gorgeous lake view, right? She took a deep breath as she pulled her car up to the cabin, trying to ignore the increasingly loud clunking of her engine.

  The sun was low on the horizon, but it was still light enough to see that the lake was only ten feet from the back door, just as Emma had promised. Yes, the entire cabin was about the size of the master bathroom Chloe had been using for the last eleven years, but at least this one didn't come with a boyfriend who would spend a decade claiming not to be the marrying type, only to call her from Los Angeles and announce he had a fiancée. He'd given Chloe two weeks to vacate, at which point he and his fiancée would be arriving from California to move in. Yes, it had been his condo, but the fact she'd been contributing to the mortgage had made her think of it as her home as well.

  Apparently not.

  She'd been just about to close on a new apartment when her life had suddenly gotten even more complicated...which was why she was in Birch Crossing, unemployed, with her entire life packed into her vehicle.

  The car lurched to a shuddering stop, and Chloe leaned out her window and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of pine and fresh water. She'd never been that much of a nature girl, but even she could see how this could be healing to the soul.

  Leaving her window down, she turned off her ignition and stepped out, her battered sneakers sinking into the thick carpet of pine needles that littered the ground. The cabin's metal roof was a bit rusted, and the porch was a little crooked, but she could stay there rent-free, and the nature was beautiful, so that was good...

  A loud crackle from her right made her jump, and she spun around, searching the woods for a bear that would leap out and attack her.

  There was no bear.

  Just woods. Eerie, shadowy woods that were getting darker by the minute, as the last remnants of sun vanished. She glanced around, but realized she couldn't see any other houses. Not even the light from any other houses distantly through the trees. There were no sounds of civilization. Just the crackle of creatures running through the woods, animals that she couldn't see, but she could hear.

  Nervousness rippled down her spine, and she edged back toward her car. A mosquito buzzed in her ear, and she swatted at it. Across the lake, she could now see two distant lights. Houses that were apparently occupied, but too far away to save her if some rabid bear attacked her.

  Even the lake was quiet. Not a single boat. Not a single human being. It was just the echoing silence of nature. She glanced over her shoulder at the driveway, but the dirt road disappeared into the trees. How long had it taken her to drive to the cabin once she'd gotten off the main road? Ten minutes? Longer?

  She was used to living in a modern condo. She was used to living with the man who, although he wasn't exactly the warm and fuzzy type, had at least provided a physical barrier to any possible threats. She was used to racing out her front door, saying hello to her dog-walking neighbors, popping in at the local coffee shop, and then taking the subway to a job she loved.

  Standing there, alone in the ever-darkening woods, suddenly made her realize exactly how much she'd lost. Her home. Her job. Her friends. Her routine.

  Tears started to burn, and she lifted her chin. "I'm fine," she announced to the trees. "This is just temporary until I find another job." Another job, yes. Another man? No. Not a chance. She'd given her everything to Ronald, which meant he'd been able to take it all away.

  Nev
er. Ever. Again.

  She was doing this on her own this time, and she was building her own life the way she wanted it. And it started with this ramshackle cabin on this very beautiful lake. This was day one, of her new life —

  The sharp sting of a mosquito bite stung her arm, jerking her back to the present. She slapped at her skin as she pulled her phone out, grimacing when she saw Emma wasn't due to meet her there with keys for another half hour. She tossed her phone through the open window, and brushed away another mosquito. Another bit her between her shoulder blades, and she slapped ineffectively at it, having lost that kind of flexibility about two decades ago.

  She heard another rustle, and looked sharply around. The woods were beginning to be saturated with impenetrable darkness now. The cabin was only a few feet away, but she would soon not be able to see it. Not even a moon was peeking out from the cloudy sky.

  Okay, idyllic setting or not, she was not waiting for Emma in these woods. She'd passed by Wright's General Store on the way in, so she'd go there, get some groceries, and then come back when Emma was there, and she could get in the house and turn on some nice, bright lights.

  She dove back into the car, and turned her key. The engine revved, thunked, and then quit. Grimacing, she tried again, and this time, she got only a small, pathetic noise. Had she flooded it?

  She leaned back in her seat, her headlights making the woods seem even darker, trying to stay calm even while she waved her arms like a maniac, trying to kill and fend off the mosquitoes that appeared to be planning to feast on her. Her window, of course, didn't close without the engine on, leaving a nice wide open invitation to all the mosquitoes who thought she would make an excellent snack.