by Vanessa Vale
He hated me. I’d known he would and I’d expected it. Even so, it hurt. A lot. It brought it all back up again, every little thing I remembered and felt from when I was ten. It had been fifteen years, and yet it was still so fresh. I’d tried for years to tamp it down, to block it off like a brick wall around the mess that had been my childhood, but with one dark look, one kiss, one orgasm, Landon had taken a wrecking ball to it. Add Jed and his finger-induced orgasm to the mix doubled the destruction. Hot men squared.
And now the wound was open again. Bleeding. Hurting.
But it was mine to deal with. Mine to carry. Ava had texted twice and left messages, but I’d ignored them, not prepared to talk about it.
Sure, I’d had a little cry before I left the house, but I’d had to suck it up and get to work. With a story hour for preschoolers on the schedule, the morning had gone quickly, but the incident wasn’t far from my mind, especially when I drove the twenty miles out to the highway and my second job at the hotel. At least I’d be there only for a few hours, doubling up on the front desk for the Friday afternoon registration rush. Then I could go home, climb in bed and toss the covers over my head. Forget the outside world, at least until the morning when I had to do it all over again. Work. Work some more. Sleep. That wouldn’t change.
Two great guys had been temporary. Very temporary. The damaged roof was going to be a little less temporary. I’d have to call another contractor, get a quote. In the meantime, I’d stop at the hardware store, buy a cheap tarp, pull out the rickety ladder and cover the damaged section. I had to hope it didn’t rain too much. But, because of the delay in the repair, I’d hopefully have a little extra money saved up by the time they did get to the project and maybe they could fix a slightly bigger section.
In the hotel’s parking lot, I removed the library nametag and grabbed the other one from the armrest compartment, pinned it in place. Working was good. Working kept me distracted, in front of people where I had to smile, be positive. It kept me busy, made me be thankful for what I did have. Right?
“Hey, Melanie,” I called to the woman behind the registration desk when the entry doors slid closed behind me. She’d had the morning shift and I was replacing her. With the library closing early on Fridays, I was able to work both jobs and was thankful my boss was so accommodating.
“Thanks for filling in for me yesterday afternoon,” she said, giving me a warm smile.
In her thirties, she had twin boys who’d been in a summer camp talent show. I had a meager bank account that needed an infusion of extra cash. After working at the library yesterday, I’d been able to come over and cover for her before I went to meet Ava at Cassidy’s. Twenty-four hours and two orgasms later, it felt like everything had changed. And yet, nothing had. Not really.
Okay, it had, but I needed to let it go. The Dukes hated me and always would. When Landon told Jed who I really was, he’d agree. A make-out session wasn’t going to change that. One thing I learned from my dad was that you couldn’t go back in time. I couldn’t take away the kisses or the orgasms, not any of it. Not that I really wanted to, because while Landon hated me because of who I was, there had been a moment when we—all three of us—had been anonymous strangers who’d had a connection. Lust. Pure and simple desire and nothing more. Life hadn’t gotten in the way of our instant attraction. It had been… real. For the briefest of moments, absolutely perfect. And while totally slutty and hot, it was exactly what I’d always dreamed of. And I’d never want to change that.
“I told you yesterday it was no problem.” I went around the counter into the back office to clock in and put my purse in my locker.
“Cassidy’s must have been fun last night,” she said, coming to stand in the doorway, watching me but ready to return to the counter if someone came in. “Meet someone cute, I hope?”
“Oh?” I asked, my heart lurching. At the same time, I was completely confused how she knew about Landon and Jed. She hadn’t been there. I wasn’t sure what to say. Saying too much would be dangerous, and I was on the verge of crying already. I could lose my job if I were a blubbering mess.
She pointed to the small desk where we ate our meals at break time. “Those flowers are for you.”
I glanced at the dozen red roses. They were lovely and, for a second, I had a burst of hope they might be from Landon and/or Jed.
Going over to the bouquet, I found the card, opened the little envelope.
“Tell me about him. Is he cute?” She waggled her eyebrows as she grinned. Happily married, she was eager to see me with a man, too. And one who gave flowers.
Not Landon or Jed. Of course, they weren’t. No guy gave flowers to a woman he hated. Roger had sent the flowers. Instantly, I felt sick.
* * *
We aren’t done.
* * *
That was all the card said, but I knew it was him.
Landon, Jed and I were so done, that couldn’t be any more obvious. But I knew for a fact Roger didn’t think we were finished. I’d dated him twice. I’d gotten a weird feeling the first night, the way he’d ordered for me, told me when our second date was instead of asking. I’d agreed to a second because a friend from work had made the connection, wanting to give him another chance before I ruled him out completely. A lunch date. What could happen on a lunch date, right?
Over sandwiches at the deli down the street from the library, he’d expressed that I was The One. That we’d get married as soon as I lost twenty-five pounds so I’d look good on his arm. As a dentist in town, he’d felt it important his wife made a good impression. That I wasn’t going to find anyone better since I was Don Leary’s daughter.
Whatever, and what an asshole.
I’d told him it wasn’t going to work out. Thanks, but no thanks. I’d put money on the table for lunch. Then left.
When we’d first met, I thought he was handsome, but in a… plastic sort of way. Sleek hair with more hair product than I used, a perfect smile with bleached teeth—a perk of being a dentist. I should have known from the tick in his jaw and the way his cheeks turned a mottled red at my ‘break up’ that he didn’t like to be turned down, that he had a darker side. That there was more to his controlling nature than just his issue with my weight. If he wanted someone better, someone not a Leary, he should have just gone for her. But no. He was sticking with me.
And that had been six weeks ago. Since then, besides the flowers, I’d received texts, a note on my front door and a visit to the library.
Fortunately, it had been a busy Saturday morning when he showed up and there’d been a large group of children in the room for story and sing-along time. He’d left and that was the last I’d seen of him.
I was fearful of him and with these flowers, was more freaked out than ever. I’d even told the police, but they’d said unless he’d committed a crime, there was nothing they could do. And he hadn’t done anything illegal, just overstepped. And they, too, remembered the Leary name all too well.
And these flowers proved he wasn’t done. I just didn’t understand why he’d even want me if he didn’t like the way I looked. That I wasn’t good enough for him as I was. It made no sense.
“Roger,” I told Melanie, who’d been waiting.
Her eagerness slipped away. “Oh. You need to tell that man off and find yourself a real man.”
A real man. The first thing that popped into my head was Landon Duke. Now he was a real man. Seriously. Rugged. Rough. Dominating, yet protective and surprisingly gentle. Then there was Jed. Laid back, demanding. Ripped. Neither were anything like Roger. I had to give Landon credit; I knew exactly where I stood with him. I knew he liked my curves, liked my glasses. He made me feel… pretty. Jed, too.
How had I ever thought Roger the least bit handsome after seeing/kissing/touching Landon Duke and Jed Cassidy? How had I ever thought I’d be lucky enough to be with two men, not just one. I had a feeling—even though it was clear what Landon thought of me—I was truly ruined for other men just from our brief ti
me together.
Roger had been right. What man would want a Leary? While I had zero interest in settling for a creep like Roger just because he’d have me, maybe I was doomed in Raines.
I sighed. “I’ll work on that. Go home. I’ve got things here.”
She looked as if she would say more about Roger but changed her mind. “You let me know if he bothers you. Peter won’t stand for this kind of stuff and he’ll deal with him.”
Her husband, Peter, was definitely an alpha male, but I didn’t want him any more involved with the whole Roger mess than I did Melanie. They had children and didn’t need to take on someone like him. Roger knew where I lived. I didn’t need him to know where they did.
“I will, thanks,” I told her.
“Stephanie’s with maintenance in the pool area. Something’s up with the hot tub. She’ll be back out to help soon,” she said as she headed out with a wave.
She left and I was alone behind the registration desk, at least until Stephanie returned. I was glad she had the full swing shift and I was only on until seven as the registration extra. Standing in the lobby, I felt exposed and vulnerable, even as some guests walked by, probably on their way to an early dinner. I smiled as they passed and began to organize the incoming reservation sheets. It only made my shaking hands even more noticeable. Now I’d have to pick up some new locks with heavy deadbolts along with the roof tarp.
Roger knew where I worked, where I lived. I could move. Well, no, I couldn’t. I couldn’t afford anything else in Raines. My house, no matter how dilapidated it was, was mine free and clear. I only had to pay the taxes each year, but that was it. It was enough. With student loans, my budget was tight just to pay the heat in the winter plus my other expenses. Changing my cell number because of Roger was a complete waste of money.
The house had been deeded to me by my mother when she’d died when I was eight. My dad and I had remained on until he’d been arrested for the hit and run and I went to live with Aunt Clara in California. The house had sat empty while he’d been in jail and he’d only lived in it another two years after he got out. He’d done nothing in upkeep—either drinking the money needed for it or not being able to have anything done since he couldn’t get hired and make a living.
Now, with the house in rough shape, the land was the only thing that had any real value. But it was mine and I’d slowly get the house fixed up. I wanted to—for once—get ahead. To ultimately not work two jobs. To just… be content with a simple life. No stalkers. No haters. One job. A little money in savings. A roof that didn’t leak. Free time.
It was a simple dream.
I just had to wonder if Roger was going to ruin that. He could walk into the hotel at any time and there was nothing I could do. This was a public place. If he did something, it would be his word against mine and I was a Leary.
As Landon had made it very clear earlier, everyone in Raines hated a Leary.
9
DUKE
* * *
“What the hell are you doing here?” I stopped short at the sight of my brother on my couch. Obviously, I hadn’t heard him come in while I was in the shower.
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Tucker asked when I stomped into the kitchen, grabbed a soda from the fridge, slammed the door shut and downed half the drink in one icy long pull.
“This is my house. Why are you here?” I leaned a hip against the counter to face the great room and stared at him. He was lounging on my couch watching a ball game. His feet were up on my coffee table and an open bag of chips rested beside them.
“Your turn to host Friday dinner.”
I closed my eyes, then ran my hand over my face. This morning, after I walked away from the cluster fuck that was Kaitlyn Leary, I drove straight to the new build on the south side of town and pounded nails all day. Jed shut the bar down at 4:00 a.m., which meant he slept all day. I wasn’t going to wake him to tell him about the fucking grenade I’d fallen on this morning. I’d let him hope just a little longer.
He’d bought the bar and building that housed it on Main Street last year. It had an apartment on the second floor where he crashed, but my house—this house—was where we intended to settle down with our woman. We both thought we’d found her last night, that Kaitlyn would be the one to turn this place into a home. But no.
Fuck. I took another swallow of the soda. Mindless framing work should have helped with my anger and frustration levels, but it had done shit. The men on site had given me a wide berth and I’d had plenty of time to think. And in the six hours I’d been there, I’d figured nothing out.
Nothing. Because while I was so mad at Kaitlyn, I still wanted her. It was a desperate, frantic need to go back to her house and toss her over my shoulder and carry her to the nearest horizontal surface, lay her down on it and fuck her until I forgot her father had almost killed my parents. Get a taste of that sweet pussy, and not from licking my fingers. No, I wanted to go right to the source, get that sticky, sweet taste all over my mouth and chin. Get her scent on me, on my dick. I adjusted myself in my jeans, thankful T couldn’t see because of the breakfast bar.
I was used to confrontation. I’d had it plenty when I was in the rodeo circuit—and not just with the bulls. From shitty contractors to my fucking brothers… arguments and petty bickering happened all the time. But never with a woman and never like this. I’d had just a taste of what it would be like with her and I wanted more. Not the fucking confrontation, but the night before in Jed’s office. My dick got harder just thinking about how responsive she’d been, remembering the way she’d all but ridden our fingers.
The tiny slip of a woman had me in fucking knots, even making me forget the usual Friday get-together with my family.
“Shit, dinner,” I replied, tossing the empty bottle into the recycling container. After I finished at the site, I’d come home and cleaned up. Now, I had a brother on my couch and the rest of my family on their way. And Jed. Fuck, I’d have to tell Jed about Kaitlyn, too. “We’re ordering pizza.”
“Whatever.”
I used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. “Like I said, why are you here? You have your own house to watch the game.”
When my parents decided to retire from ranch life, they’d bought a small place in town—not too far from me—and Tucker had taken over the business and settled into the big house as his own. The one we’d all grown up in.
He glanced my way, studied me for a second. “Julia said you did a caveman routine last night, tossed a woman over your shoulder and carried her off. With Jed. I expected you to have a little spring in your step after finally getting laid, not be ornery like a fucking bear. And I don’t mean a bear that’s actually fucking.”
I gave him the finger since he hadn’t answered my question. It was normal for my brothers to just show up at my house and settle on my sofa, even when I wasn’t at home. I didn’t care. But today… fuck.
“Didn’t work out?”
I glanced out the big windows, studied the mountains in the distance. The sun was working its way down to them. “Didn’t work out? You could say that.”
I wasn’t going to get into the fact that he shouldn’t listen to our sister, who was the worst sort of gossip.
“What was she, a clinger? Liked two dicks too much? Texted you thirty times so far today?”
“Fuck, no.” I had to assume that had happened to him if he was bringing it up as a possibility.
Tucker was two years younger than me, the Duke wild child and the one to make my mother’s hair go gray. He liked the ladies and liked them wild, especially with his buddy. And they liked him in return. A lot. He took after our father with his blond hair and lean body. I was built more like a brick shit house, easily weighing forty pounds more and was an inch taller.
Julia had called all three of us—adding Gus to the mix—her beefcake brothers. Again, the damned cattle ranch analogy. Tucker, or T for short, had a relaxed nature to him. He was more easygoing, more approachable in com
parison to me. Perhaps that was why he looked all relaxed and sated like he’d gotten fucked the night before and again this morning. Women didn’t call him T-Bone for the family’s steaks.
“Jesus, say you used a condom.”
“What the fuck, T?” I asked, going around the counter to drop myself down into my chair, the big recliner that was perfectly aligned to face the fireplace and the big-screen TV just the way I liked. While my brothers often dropped in, they knew never to sit in my chair. “I’ve never gone bare. Jed, either. We’re saving that shit just like you are.”
We’d agreed when we were teenagers—after our father scared the shit out of us with the ways going without a condom could ruin our lives—that we’d only go bare once each of us found the woman we wanted to claim.
“Then you didn’t get laid. That’s the problem.”
“Will you lay off?” I all but growled.
He raised one fair brow and just waited because his answer was obviously no. His blue eyes met mine, held.
I sighed. “I met Don Leary’s daughter.”
Pulling his feet from the coffee table, he sat up, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, stared at me with a rare seriousness. “I thought she’d moved away when her dad went to jail.”
“I thought so too, but she’s obviously back now.”
“What did she want?”
“Want? Nothing. I was the one to toss her over my shoulder.”
He frowned. “Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I didn’t know who she was at the time.”
“I wouldn’t know what she looked like either. She was what”—he did the mental math—“around twelve back then?”
I’d had all day to think about how old she’d been when her father hit my parents’ car, tried to remember what she’d looked like. I only had vague memories of a quiet girl with brown hair sitting in the courthouse. Alone.
