Stay With Me (Hope Valley Book 5)

by Jessica Prince

  “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I replied indignantly.

  “I’m well aware of that,” he growled, not looking any happier. “But that doesn’t mean I want you putting yourself at risk, Rory.”

  My lips parted to shoot something snarky back his way when footsteps sounded like thunder coming up the steps to the platform.

  I spun around just as my dad pulled to a stop with Tempie’s husband, Hayes Walker, his partner, Patrick “Trick” Wanderly, and a couple other uniformed officers at his back. “Ah, hell,” Dad groused. “I miss the fight?”

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked, brushing my hair out of my face and resting my hands on my hips.

  “Call came in that there was a bar fight in progress,” Hayes answered. “We came with the uniforms when we heard it was here.”

  “And I was just comin’ in for a visit,” Dad said as he looked at the dickheads on the floor. When he turned his eyes to me, they were full of humor. “How many you take out, dumplin’?”

  “Two. With a broom.”

  Pride suffused my father’s face as he crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s my girl.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Cord muttered, looking up to the ceiling. “Deliver me from pain-in-the-ass women.”

  “No fun in that, son,” my dad cut in. “The ones who aren’t a pain in the ass are all boring as hell. Trust me on that one.”

  Oh for the love of god.

  Chapter Nine

  Rory

  “Will you let me take a look at that cut, please?”

  The drama from earlier was officially over. Alpha Wannabe and his unconscious friend were picked up by paramedics and taken to the hospital to be checked before joining their other two buddies in lockup. The cops were gone, with the exception of Trick and Hayes, who were currently sitting at the bar, having a beer with my dad. And Cord had finally gotten over his snit about me not listening to his Neanderthal command to “get outta here.”

  Or at least I thought he was over it. At my question, he turned my way and glared while grunting, “Cut’s fine.”

  I rolled my eyes and reached out, tagging his wrist and pulling him off the barstool. “Stop being such a baby. It’ll take two seconds. Come on.”

  I ignored the chuckles coming from Hayes, Trick, Dad, and Dusty and dragged Cord from the front of the bar toward my office in the back. The door clicked closed behind us as I guided him into the chair and began fishing in the bottom drawer of the old, beat-up desk for the first-aid kit.

  Plunking the metal box on the desktop, I popped the latch and flipped it open, rifling around inside for everything I needed. “You really should have let the paramedics look at this while they were here,” I scolded as I pulled out gauze, alcohol wipes, and butterfly closures.

  “I told you, it’s fine. Not the first cut I’ve had, and damn sure won’t be the last. Besides”—one corner of his mouth quirked up in a grin—“paramedics were too busy making sure you hadn’t ruptured that first guy’s testicles to worry about a little cut.”

  A snort burst from my mouth as I tore open an alcohol wipe. “I don’t feel even a little sorry about that.”

  Cord’s soft, low chuckle filled the office, suddenly making it seem much smaller than it had felt a second ago. “And you shouldn’t. Last thing this world needs is that prick spreadin’ his seed. You just did society a favor, makin’ it impossible for him to procreate.”

  Unable to hold it back, I let out a laugh as I moved closer to Cord to inspect the cut. On instinct, he widened his legs to make room for me and dropped his head back as I leaned in to get the best angle.

  My body tingled with awareness at our close, intimate proximity, and I struggled to keep my hands from shaking as I brushed the hair from his forehead. The silky strands slipped through my fingers, the light catching it just so that I could see the subtle streaks of russet liberally laced throughout the chocolate brown.

  I could’ve stood there all night, happy to do nothing but drag my hands through his incredibly thick, soft hair, but Cord’s rich, husky voice calling my name pulled me from the fantasy I’d been sucked into. “Rory?”

  Blinking rapidly, my gaze shot to his. “Huh?”

  Staring into those gorgeous eyes, lined with thick dark lashes, was like getting lost in a forest I never wanted to find my way out of, and when they shone with his smile like they were just then, my heart kicked into high gear. “You froze there for a second, darlin’. You good?”

  “Oh, uh...” I cleared my throat and shook out of my stupor. “Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.” Grabbing one of the pieces of gauze, I began wiping away the blood that had poured from the cut and dripped down the side of his face. “It doesn’t look too deep,” I said in a soft, quiet voice barely above a whisper. “You got lucky. It’s not going to need stitches.”

  He didn’t say a word as I cleaned the last of the blood from his face and tore open an alcohol swab. He pulled a sharp breath in through his teeth and gave a slight jerk when I dabbed at the cut, making my gaze shoot to his as I quickly pulled my hand back.

  The wince on his face tugged painfully at my chest. “Sorry. You okay?”

  “Just stung a bit,” he said, his voice just as quiet as mine. “I’m good. You can keep goin’.”

  I dabbed the cut again, but this time I blew lightly to soothe the sting after each brush with the alcohol swab, needing to make sure he felt as little discomfort as possible. At my action, Cord’s hands moved to rest on my hips, and my knees nearly gave out. The air in the room grew thick and humid as I worked, making it hard to fill my lungs. Or maybe it was just my reaction to this man that made it almost impossible to breathe.

  Once I had it properly disinfected, I placed a butterfly closure across the cut, holding it closed so it would heal with only a small scar.

  My hands came down to rest on his shoulders as I looked into his eyes. “There,” I whispered, unable to make my voice any louder. “All done.”

  When I moved to step back, his fingers clenched, pressing harder into my hips and holding me in place. “Rory.” That one word came out on a croak. “I miss you,” he continued, that statement like a battering ram to the shield I’d put around my heart to keep him out.

  This was the first time I’d seen him in three days, and as hard as I tried not to, I’d spent those past three days missing him so much that every time the door to The Tap Room opened, my gaze shot there in the hopes that it would be him walking though.

  But he wasn’t just talking about the past few days. The meaning behind his words went much deeper than that.

  This man had been my best friend once, and in spite of all the hurt he’d caused me, I still cared deeply for him. He wasn’t just under my skin, he was in my blood.

  I’d never been so terrified in all my life as I’d been all those months ago while I’d waited for the doctors to tell me he wasn’t going to die. I just couldn’t fathom the thought of losing him in such a permanent way. And even now, knowing he was all right, I still occasionally woke up in the middle of the night, sweat coating my skin and tears pouring down my cheeks as the nightmare of him dying slowly faded with consciousness.

  “I miss you too,” I replied, the admission spilling out without my brain telling it to. But it was the truth; there was no point in denying that.

  His eyes squeezed closed like my confession caused him physical pain. But when he opened them again and looked at me, a big smile stretched across his face, and I knew it wasn’t pain. It was relief.

  And that terrified me.

  “Thank you, dollface,” he said, his hands growing tighter as he pulled me even closer. I knew without him saying it that he was preparing to kiss me, and although my lips tingled with delight at the thought of it, the panic shredding my stomach to ribbons was too much to ignore, and I quickly backed out of his grasp.

  “I miss my friend,” I quickly amended, causing the smile to fall from his face. Blowing out a puff of air, I looked away a
nd dragged a trembling hand through my hair. “Cord, I can’t stand how things have been between us.”

  He rose to his feet and moved closer. “I can’t either, Rory.”

  “I hate the way I’ve been feeling. Being mad at you is exhausting, and I don’t want to do it anymore.” Our eyes locked, and I lost myself in his gaze once more before I quickly added, “But all I can give you is my friendship.”

  He stopped his advance, a litany of emotions ranging from relief to irritation playing across his chiseled face before finally settling on understanding. “All right, sweetheart. We can start there.”

  God, he was making this so damn difficult.

  “No, Cord,” I said, infusing a strength into those two words. “I mean friendship is all I can give you. I don’t have anything else to give.” He didn’t say a word, so I pushed on. “I need to know you understand that, or there’s no point to this.”

  I waited for what felt like an eternity, fear clenching my heart in a vise grip, before he finally tipped his head in a small nod. “I get it.”

  A sigh of relief passed my lips as my shoulders loosened. “Okay, good. Then as your friend, I insist you let me get you a beer, on the house. It’s the least I can do after you bled for me.”

  His smile returned, this one small and easy. It was nowhere near as brilliant as the one he’d given me earlier, but it still packed one hell of a punch. “You wanna pull me a beer, Rory, I’m not gonna stop you. But I’ll be payin’ for it.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off. “No sense in arguing. That’s just how it’s gonna be.”

  I read his face, clear as day, that this was a battle I couldn’t win, so I didn’t bother trying. Instead, I moved to the office door, pulled it open, and led Cord back out to the front of the bar. He took one of the stools across from me as I pulled a Guinness for him. And without the threat of assholes smashing my glasses or causing a fight, it was back to business as usual.

  Cord

  I watched Rory from the corner of my eye as she worked the bar with an ease instilled in her from years and years of experience. I’d cleared a hurdle with her earlier, but the race was still far from over.

  She wanted us to return to the way we were, to bring our friendship back to days gone by, and I was all for that. I’d gladly grabbed on to that olive branch she’d extended, but I had no intention of leaving it at that.

  It was a dick move, not being honest, but winning this woman was going to be a battle of stealth and cunning.

  I wanted her friendship, definitely. But I also wanted so much more, and the truth of it was, I’d wanted more for a lot goddamn longer than I’d been willing to admit at the beginning.

  A little over four years ago, I rolled into Hope Valley with all my earthly possessions stuffed into a duffel bag. I was looking to put down roots, but that didn’t mean I was ready to settle down. Then my second day in town, I hit up the bar I’d heard Linc and a couple of the other guys talking about and laid my eyes on a goddamn vision.

  I should have let Laurie go at that very moment, and looking back now, I wanted to kick my own ass for not doing just that. Just when I was ready to make my move, Laurie called with her declarations of love, and I made my first mistake by turning down Rory’s advances. After that, I let my past and a fucked-up sense of loyalty screw with my head for far too long. But even then, what I was building with Rory continued to grow.

  Our friendship came about organically. It was nothing like what I’d had with Laurie. She’d had to beat at my defenses until I finally gave in and gave her me. But with Rory, there was no guard, no shield. It was easy from the beginning.

  When Laurie showed up two years after I’d settled in Hope Valley, I hadn’t been prepared for how seeing her would affect me. I felt like I’d been torn in two, one part of me clinging to what I had with Rory and the other holding on to the only person who’d ever cared about me. That was when I made my second and biggest mistake. I chose Laurie out of guilt, throwing away a relationship that, in two years, had become stronger than what Laurie and I had been building for more than half my life.

  The mistakes piled on after that. For a year and a half, I felt like I was playing a part, wearing a skin that no longer fit right. Then, seven months ago, four gunshots changed my life completely.

  I might have seen the light and finally decided to right all the wrongs I’d made shortly before those bullets ripped into me, but that didn’t matter. I’d still taken too long and, in the process, hurt the woman I’d started falling for that very first night I walked into The Tap Room.

  So yeah, I’d take her friendship. I wanted her friendship. But I planned to cultivate that into something so much more. I just had to do it without her noticing. At least in the beginning.

  “She’s really somethin’, my girl.”

  At the sound of Bill’s voice, I stopped pretending I wasn’t watching Rory and turned to look at her fully. “Yeah. She is.”

  “Took a look at that broom while she was patchin’ you up. Damn metal handle’s bent clean in half.”

  My neck twisted, my eyes widening as I took in the look of sheer pride on his face, and I burst out laughing.

  When I was finally able to rein it in, I caught sight of Rory and found her staring at me with a dazed look in her eyes before she quickly blinked it away and scurried down the bar to deal with her customers.

  “Got her mama’s spirit,” Bill continued once my laughter faded completely. “She’ll say she gets it from me, but it’s not true. I might’ve taught her to defend herself, but that fire’s all Becky.”

  “Not a bad example to live up to,” I muttered. And it really wasn’t. I knew Becky Hightower well. On the outside, she was pure class and beauty, sharing the same good looks with her daughter. But inside she was piss and vinegar. Sure, she could be sweet when she wanted to be, but she wasn’t a woman to be messed with.

  “Takes a special kinda man to wrangle a woman like that,” he muttered, the humor that had been twinkling in his eyes earlier having faded as he spoke seriously. “My Becky—” He shook his head—“like a mustang, that one. Wild and beautiful.” He stopped looking at Rory and turned his intense gaze on me. “I never broke her. Would’ve been a goddamn shame to break beauty like that. I loved her brand of wild, so I learned to hold on and enjoy the ride of my life. Rory’s the same. Beautiful and wild as a mustang. My girl needs a man who can hold on and enjoy the ride.”

  Bill Hightower wasn’t talking just for the sake of it. He was imparting wisdom on a man he knew wanted something more from his daughter. And if it were possible, I respected him even more for giving me that.

  “Been on my fair share of wild rides in my life,” I told him, keeping my voice low so only he could hear. “Some of them good, some of them not so great, but through it all, I learned real well how to hold on.”

  From the smile that split his face, I knew that was exactly what he’d been hoping to hear. “Glad for that, son,” he said, clapping me on the back before standing from his barstool. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take off. My girl here isn’t gonna cut me any slack and feed me somethin’ worth eatin’, so I might as well head home for dinner.”

  Rory heard his comment and shot him a wink before bracing her hands on the bar and giving a little hop so she could lean over and smack a kiss on his cheek. “Give my love to Mom.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled affectionately. “I’ll do that, even though you two are a pain in my ass.”

  Bill took off a second later, and Rory poured me another Guinness before moving down the bar. As I sat there, pretending to listen to as Hayes and Trick gave each other shit, I silently watched all that wild beauty.

  Hell yeah, I thought. I can definitely hold on and enjoy the ride.

  Chapter Ten

  Rory

  Kicking my feet up on the ottoman, I snuggled into the big squishy chair and rested my head on the thick back cushion. It was one of my rare nights off from the bar, which meant it was time for
our monthly girls’ night.

  Instead of glamming up and going out somewhere, we’d all opted for a night in, so Tempie, Gypsy, Nona, and I were scattered around Eden’s living room, our faces covered in bright green goop.

  Eden was big on skin care, so much so that she spent a small fortune on products. Deciding she was better off learning to make her own products instead of shelling out her life savings, she’d taken to concocting different masks, cleansers, and creams, using us as her guinea pigs. Fortunately for us, she was really good at it.

  My sweet friend’s skin care addiction had rubbed off on me, so now not only was my skin constantly silky smooth, but I also got the added perk of free facials.

  “This one smells like honey,” Nona said from across the room. I opened my eyes and lifted my head, looking over at her as she swirled her finger in the goo on her face and held it up for inspection. “I kinda want to eat it.”

  “For the love of god,” Gypsy mumbled from the couch. “Will someone pass her a cookie before she starts licking this crud off her face?”

  We all laughed as Nona grabbed a baby carrot off one of the charcuterie boards Tempie had prepared and threw it at Gypsy.

  Sitting up straight, I grabbed one of the freshly baked cookies from the enormous container Nona had provided for our night in and passed it to her. She had a serious sweet tooth and a slightly unhealthy addiction to baking, and during times of stress, her baking got even worse. Rumor had it, while she was going through her divorce from her children’s father, she’d made enough muffins to cover the high school marching band’s entire bake sale. And when she and Trick were doing their back-and-forth thing before finally getting together for good, her kitchen looked like she’d started selling wedding cakes out of her house.

  “I said I wanted to,” she grumbled past the cookie she’d just shoved in her mouth, “not that I was actually going to.”