by Nicole Snow
And maybe she ain’t wrong about me.
I am pretty bad about snap judgments.
“Just tell me why,” I grind out through my teeth.
“You know how it is with me,” she whispers. “Always a guy. Always the wrong guy. And I always think I’m in love.”
“So you stole her stuff to give to some jackass?”
“To pawn,” she admits shyly. “He was hot, but then I found out he was a drug addict...and he’d get real violent sometimes. Said he’d hurt me if I didn’t get him money. I didn’t want to get hurt, so...” She shrugs. “I was seventeen. Didn’t have my own money. I did the only thing I could.”
My heart twists into a hot, hurting knot. “Sierra, why didn’t you tell me?”
“How could I? You and Dad were always in your little bubble, off counting stars, or running this place and I just...I was always on the outside looking in.”
It hurts.
I never realized, but I should have.
Sierra was a mama’s girl. I was a Daddy’s girl.
So when Mama died, maybe Dad and I had each other, but I guess Sierra felt like she didn’t have anyone left, even if Dad tried his best with her.
Sierra’s been a mess her whole life, but I think maybe I made mistakes, too.
Like not knowing when my sister truly needed me.
I don’t know what I’m thinking with these thorny feelings erupting and only Holt at my side keeping me from exploding.
I lean forward, watching her intently. “Is Declan threatening to hurt you now, sis? Is that what’s going on here?”
“I don’t want to talk about him.” She shakes her head quickly—too quickly.
Holy hell.
She might as well have said yes.
“I just wanted to lay things to rest, okay? I won’t keep pushing about the ranch. I won’t try to get you to sell. I can’t help with the taxes, but we’ll leave you alone. Me and Declan both. He’s already left town, and...I’m leaving, too.” She smiles her tired, bitter smile again, the one that makes me worry. “See? Didn’t even have to go to court.”
“I never wanted a legal scrum with you,” I say, watching her worriedly. “And I don’t want you to run away with that viper.”
“Oh, I’m not running.” She shrugs, standing up, smoothing her hands fretfully over her jeans. “It’s just time to move on. You know I don’t stay in one place long.”
But I don’t think she wants to go.
I don’t think she’s safe.
All my intuition screams don’t let her leave.
This is too sudden, and she seems too scared. Plus, that part about leaving me alone sounded too rehearsed.
“Sierra.” I stand, reaching for her. “You don’t have to go. Stay here with us. If Declan’s hurting you—”
“Jesus, I tried to keep it real. Can you stop bringing up Declan?” she snarls, her voice cracking, and she whips out of my reach. “This ain’t about him, okay? I’m just sick of fighting, and this piece of crap house isn’t worth fighting over. You’re gonna lose it to the bank anyway, so there’s no goddamn point.”
I stop in my tracks as hurt cuts through me.
But she’s staring at me with something like desperation.
Like she’s trying to drive me back, pleading with me not to push her. And before I can say anything else, or fight words out around the knot in my throat, she’s gone.
Bolting out the front door and stomping across the porch.
With a wordless cry, I stumble after her, but by the time I hit the door, she’s already in her car.
Wheels spinning, she backs out in twin clouds of dust, that Taurus racing down the road like she’s fleeing something.
Maybe from me?
Or maybe from the things I’ve started to figure out about her and Declan.
I don’t move until Holt comes up behind me and wraps his big arms around my shoulders, anchoring me with his warmth.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
“No.” My mouth feels numb, my tongue thick. “I don’t know what the hell just happened. If that was real, or something else. Why didn’t you stop her? I thought you said we needed her to get to him.”
“We do. Still, you don’t push a hurt cougar up in a corner to make it do anything useful,” Holt says. “No doubt here, she was real upset. Whatever’s going on, I feel for her, and I’m willing to wait for her to come back on her terms.”
“If it’s not too late.” I sigh, slumping against him. “No matter what crap’s between us, she’s still my sister, Holt.”
“I know.” He’s all sweetness, gently drawing me back into the house. “You believe her, about leaving town?”
“About as far as I can throw her.”
“Honestly, I think you could throw her pretty far, honey,” he teases, getting a weak laugh out of me. “But c’mon. If she’s still in town, someone will spot her.”
“So?”
“So let’s use the whisper tree of Heart’s Edge to our advantage,” he says, and I can feel his wicked grin against my skin, right where he kisses my neck. “Time to get on the phone.”
20
Horse of a Different Color (Holt)
It doesn’t take long to make a few strategic phone calls—mainly to Ms. Wilma and the guys.
Ms. Wilma Ford, the wise old owl of Heart’s Edge, hears everything from everyone.
Warren and Haley overhear almost as much when they’ve taken over running Charming Inn.
Doc and Ember get more gossip at The Menagerie than he’d ever like with women chatting him up at the vet’s office right in front of his wife until she chases them off, while Blake’s always got an ear to the ground with the fire department plus his dumbass radio show.
Same for Clarissa Regis, too, running Sweeter Things, which is always bustling. And her hubby, Leo, he’s a big damn man, and yet scary good at skulking around, seeing and hearing things he’s not meant to because he knows how to melt into the background.
Sooner or later, they’ll turn up something.
I trust them after our late-night meeting.
Later, Libby and I settle in on the sofa, her looking totally deflated.
I’m worried. She’s always carrying so much.
Don’t know what I can do besides hold her tight and promise it’ll be okay.
So I do—pulling her into my lap to sit cradled sideways across my thighs.
Sometimes it’s startling how light she is.
How small.
How fragile.
Yet she’s got this larger-than-life presence that takes up a room in all the best ways, overwhelming it.
If she drowns me with her light, then maybe I don’t want to come up for air.
She seems almost shrunken now, curled against me with one hand resting over my heart and her head on my shoulder.
Her eyes are closed.
Up this close, I can see details I never quite caught before. Most of the time when we’re pressed up on each other like this we’re hungry, grasping, seeing who can rip each other’s clothes off the fastest.
Her eyelashes are thick and dark—but they’re actually a dark, shimmery bronze, so dense they look black all clustered together.
She’s only got a few freckles, sunspots on her cheeks.
I count them, six total, each one adorable against her suntanned skin.
There’s a tiny scar cut through one eyebrow. The sort of thing you don’t really pay attention to at first, thread-thin, and so old I can imagine her as a rambunctious kid, falling on her face.
She’s got another one, too. Newer, but still a few years old, a delicate line crossing the crest of her jaw.
Right where those assholes bruised her up.
And though her bruises are faded and she looks like she’s never been hurt, I can’t help but hold her tighter as this protective urge churns in my gut.
I keep watching her with silent fascination.
Think I could love this woman for hours with my eyes
.
Dammit, but I think I’m in love.
We stay like that for so long I think she’s drifting off, her breathing slower.
Until she cracks one eye open, peeking at me and biting her lip.
“Hey, so...” she starts uncertainly.
“Yeah?” I shift her weight a little, settling her deeper into my lap.
“You, um, you said some pretty heavy stuff at The Nest.”
“Sally?” I raise a brow.
“No, you jerk.” She lightly swats my chest. “That stuff you said to me. About me. At least I think it was about me. I’m gonna be mighty pissed if it wasn’t.”
I grin. “You want to enlighten me, honey? What’d I say, exactly?”
She scowls, and now that I’ve seen it, I can’t help but notice how that tiny scar draws up clearer when she does. “You know what you said. Don’t make me repeat it.”
“Why? Does it embarrass you?”
“Yes!” she growls, glaring. “You said that I...”
“That you have my heart,” I say bluntly, and she makes a strangled sound, swatting me again.
“You can’t say stuff like that out loud!” she hisses. “That snake charmer stuff doesn’t work on me.”
“No snake charming here, or snake oil.” I shrug. “I wasn’t just running my mouth, Libby. I’m not into anyone but you. Turns out, I do have a monogamous bone in my body.”
“Don’t even talk to me about your bone. I’m too familiar,” she mutters, biting back a smile.
Then she darts me a shy look, before looking away, folding her arms over her chest. Makes quite the picture, sitting there perched in my lap but all riled up.
“Did you mean it, Holt? Really?”
“I did,” I promise. “Look, maybe we crashed into each other like two speeding trains. Maybe we fell headfirst in the weirdest way possible, but hell.” I gather her closer, resting my chin on top of her head. “You feel good. You feel right. And I’m not denying it. I’d like to stick around, if you’ll have me.”
“Oh my God. Why are you like this?”
She burrows into me, practically hiding.
Amazing how my shameless, brazen girl gets so flustered when we talk feelings.
You get her mad and she’ll cuss you blue, but tell her you care?
Well, hell, she’ll probably still cuss you blue.
I’m not wrong.
After a sullen moment, she slips a hand up, her hot little palm against the back of my neck, and pulls me down toward her.
“Enough, you sentimental ass,” she says, lifting her head enough for me to catch sparking blue eyes that snap hot. It’s not real anger no matter how much she pretends. “Just shut up and kiss me.”
“Woman,” I growl, “you don’t need to ask me twice.”
Normally we kiss like wildfire, two forces of nature coming together.
Right now, I kiss her like she’s delicate, tender and soft and slow, even if I’m half expecting her to rip me a new asshole and tell me to stop messing around.
Instead, she just melts, sighing as her lips part and press real sweet to mine.
Eventually I gather her up and carry her upstairs.
It’s so careful, so slow as I lay her down on the bed.
She twines her arms around my neck and traces her fingers down the back of my neck, touching me gently. The heat between us is no less intense than when we rip at each other and leave each other bruised.
Still, there’s something different this time.
It’s unspoken, and the way she touches me is something else too.
Need, I get.
Need is this intense thing, a compulsion that can’t be denied.
It’s a whole different thing when your girl touches you like she wants you.
When it’s not a compulsion, but when she’s deciding she wants it and wants you.
It’ll fuck a man right up in all the best ways.
And she’s got me completely scrambled as her delicate, calloused hands caress my jaw, stroking my beard, slipping down my neck, onto my chest—moving with the rhythm of our lips as we kiss with a slow-burn intensity.
Time stops existing.
There’s no rush.
We own the moment.
Just us.
I take my sweet time kissing her, exploring her mouth, touching her, tracing the curves of her shoulders, her cleavage, the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips and belly, the toned fullness of her thighs.
One inch at a time, I tease every little bit of clothing off her, baring hot flesh like I’m trying to memorize her, to imprint her on my palms.
Her skin’s velvet. It’s a pure pleasure just touching it, feeling how she grows tenser, then melts all over again when I find a sensitive spot, playing my fingers against her flesh.
She gives herself up and lets me lead her through soft, sighing gasps until she moves like liquid fire under me—tossing her head from side to side as I explore my way down her body.
The way she moans is fuck-hot.
Utterly addictive.
My face winds up between her legs.
I’ve had her sweet cunt more times than I can count, but today I fucking devour her nice and slow.
Her plush pinkness, her taste, her scent, every little bit of Liberty Potter becomes property of my tongue. It’s so intense I can’t tell if she’s begging for more or for a reprieve by the end.
I choose wisely.
Pull her clit between my teeth, lash it with my tongue, and bring her off like a shrieking rocket. My hands drag her hips into me, making her ride my face, dousing myself in her cream while I glorify her sweetness with my beard.
She comes so hard I bet she sees her stars tonight without any sky.
I’m rock-hard and ravenous as hell by the time I come up, still licking her off my lips.
Her tan lines greet my eyes as she sinks against the mattress, still panting.
They make me throb like with a devil’s fever. There’s something about the color in this woman, the contrasts, that fucks my eyes.
The mellow pinkness of her nipples, the shadow of her inner thighs, the wetness of slick flesh. I slip my fingers back in her and as she spreads her legs, loving how she sucks in a breath.
There’s nothing about her that isn’t fascinating.
Entrancing.
Beautiful.
And I feel like I worship her for hours again with my tongue and my fingers, slipping in and out of her in slow, deep thrusts, guiding her toward her peak one shuddering breath at a time.
Until her shoulders jerk—until she closes her thighs against my hand, trapping it, reaching for me with splayed fingers.
I reluctantly drag my hand away and watch as she flips over, ass up and prone.
“Holt,” she whispers, practically begging. “Come with me! I want you to come in me.”
With me.
Good goddamn.
Doesn’t she know I’m always with her?
I get what she wants because it’s the same for me.
Growling, I lace my fingers with hers and cover her body with mine.
“Give me those lips,” I whisper.
Fisting her hair to help her along, I drink her sigh from her lips sideways while the rest of me pounds her into submission.
We fuck together nice and hard in a smooth, gliding stroke, trembling as I own her heat and wetness, letting her envelop me, making her clench down hard on every thrusting inch of my cock.
That timeless feeling falls over me again, a river of flesh and heat.
Also a rhythm guided by my pulse, the rising whimpers pouring out of her.
After she comes on me again, balling up the sheets in fists tossed over her head, I know I can’t go much longer. So I flip her around, push into her, and go the fuck to town surrounded by beauty and the hellfire tearing up my spine.
I can’t stop kissing her, biting her, raging heat building in my balls.
My eyes slip open to watch her as so many expressions fli
cker across her face each time we meld together in perfect, rolling movements. Mutual pleasure that belongs to us.
And it only feels right that it takes us both together.
Libby tightens at the same time it crashes through me, this sudden sharp bolt skipping up my spine, igniting every inch of me.
I don’t know who screams whose name first.
I just know it’s my turn to see stars under the ceiling, watching her combust, and coming myself blind in searing, bone-deep heat.
Lying in bed with my hellcat afterward always feels better than even the best afterglow cigarette or shot of whiskey.
Coming down is pure bliss, melting my thoughts away and just leaving me blank and boneless. I can’t remember the things I’m supposed to be stressed over.
All I can remember is that I’ve got the only thing that matters here in my arms, naked and sweet and soft against me.
We drowse in bed, watching the sun set through the window, the light turning a rusty red. Makes me think about that rock at the root of this shit.
How much could a meteorite from another planet really be worth?
That reminds me...
“Hey,” I say, jostling Libby with a shrug of my shoulder. “You awake?”
She moans softly, then opens one eye, peering at me. “Am now.”
I offer an apologetic smile. “I just remembered something. You know how I went down Nowhere Lane for a checkup yesterday?”
“Mm-hmm.” She’s already drifting off again.
“I brought some more of your dad’s things back. The journals from that room in the church. They’re in the back of my truck. Have you ever looked at any of them?”
Her eyes snap open.
She looks at me oddly, then pushes herself up to lean on one hand, her gold hair cascading down over one shoulder and coiling against the curve of one full, heavy breast.
“Oh, crap. With everything else, I just totally forgot,” she says.
“You want to have a look now? If he was studying the town and the impact crater, we might find something useful.”
“Hmm. Okay, sure.”
“You don’t sound so sure.” I cock my head.
She presses her lips together, curling a hand against her chest, her eyes lowering. “It’s just the same old thing. I always feel like pushing to know things one way or another opens me up to finding out the worst.”
