Forever After

by Catherine Anderson

  There was no doubt in Heath’s mind that there would be a search launched for him now. His badge could only protect him to a point, and he had stepped way beyond it when he ignored Fergusson’s warnings. Meredith felt responsible, he knew. He wished he could think of something he might say to relieve her mind. There was nothing. The bottom line was, he hadn’t done all of this for the hell of it, but for her and Sammy. To claim otherwise would be an outright lie, and a transparent one at that.

  Dog and child asleep in the back, they traveled for quite a while in silence. A tense, brittle silence. He was worried about her. She hugged the passenger door, for one thing, putting as much distance between them as possible. And she was gripping the armrest so hard that her whitened knuckles almost glowed in the dark. She was still extremely upset, no question about it, he supposed because he’d just added grand theft to his list of crimes. He thought about reminding her that this was a life or death situation, not a joy ride. When it came to staying alive, a man did things he might never do otherwise. But he figured she knew that already.

  “Meredith, can you talk to me? Maybe you’ll feel better if we hash this out again.”

  In response, she just shook her head.

  Heath couldn’t let it go at that. “You’re feeling responsible because I’m tanking my career. Correct?”

  “It’s that, and I’m also upset because—oh, it’s nothing! I’m just—” She broke off and shook her head again. “It’s nothing.”

  “You know damned well it’s something. You haven’t said a word in forty miles.”

  “I can’t think of anything to talk about.”

  “Don’t think. Just talk. You’re stewing about something. I want to know what.”

  She threw up her hands. “It’s just everything, Heath. All you’ve done for us. All you’ve sacrificed for us. It’s way too much!”

  “I was starting to hate the job, anyway.”

  “That’s baloney. Working with teenagers. Saving lives. Remember? It’s your atonement for what happened to Laney. Do you think I don’t know that it means everything to you?”

  “Honey, let’s leave Laney out of this. All right?”

  “The point is, you’re throwing everything away. And you could end up in prison.”

  “Like I said. That’s my decision to make, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe, but it makes me feel really uneasy.”

  “Uneasy?” He’d expected her to say she felt guilty. Uneasy. He didn’t like the sound of that. “In what way?”

  She waved her hands again, a telltale sign of just how agitated she was. “It’s so hard for me to put it into words. My thoughts are going in circles, and I don’t want to blurt something out and make you upset with me.”

  Heath had been there a few times. “You don’t have to be guarded about what you say to me, honey.”

  “I don’t?”

  He chuckled. “Of course not. Just tell me what you’re thinking, and we’ll sort through it together.”

  She looked hesitant, but she hauled in a deep breath and said in a tremulous voice, “Well, right now I’m thinking that you’re the very best friend I’ve ever had, and that I don’t know what I would have done without you, not just tonight but all along. And it frightens me to think of what may happen to Sammy and me if we lose you.”

  Heath’s heart caught, and a lump came into his throat. “You aren’t going to lose me, Merry. You can count on that.”

  “Not even if I make you so angry you hate me?”

  “What could you ever do to make me hate you? Nothing.”

  In a thin voice, she said, “Not even if I have trouble living up to my part of the bargain?”

  “What bargain?”

  She waved her hand to encompass them both. “Our bargain. Neither of us has actually verbalized it, of course, but I’m not so obtuse that I believe you’ve done all this for nothing. You surely have certain expectations, and I know in my heart that I owe you that and more. I could try for the rest of my life and never be able to repay you for all you’ve done tonight.”

  “What sort of expectations do you think I have, Meredith?”

  “Well, you obviously care very deeply for me, and for Sammy, too. I mean, well, a man doesn’t go to these lengths for just anyone. Right?”

  “This isn’t exactly the moment I would have chosen to profess my feelings for you, but, yeah, I care. One hell of a lot. For you and for Sammy. And, no, I wouldn’t have done all this for anyone else. So what’s your point, precisely?”

  “I’m just—concerned. When it comes time for us to—well, you know—I’m worried that you’ll get really angry if I—well, if I’m less than enthusiastic. In situations where I feel cornered—”

  “Cornered?”

  “I guess that’s not the right word, exactly. Um…jeez. It’s so hard to explain.” She flashed him a glance. “Sort of trapped?”

  “Trapped.” He rolled the word over his tongue, bitterness washing his mouth.

  “When I feel like that, my head gets all crazy, and it isn’t now I’m thinking about, but then, and I get this claustrophobic feeling. I can’t breathe and I kind of—panic inside. Needless to say, I’ve avoided the situation since my divorce. But now I can’t, and I’m—well, very concerned because I’m not sure I can control it, and if I can’t, I may be uncooperative. And I’m afraid you’ll—get really angry with me. Justifiably so, of course. You understand?”

  He understood, all right. He just couldn’t quite believe that was how her thoughts were running. After all he had done to gain her trust—all he was still doing—and she had his motivation narrowed down to one thing, a hard-on. Even worse, she obviously believed he’d be a jerk if she refused him. Less than enthusiastic? She couldn’t be thinking that he might force her. Surely not. Yet he had a feeling—a really bad feeling—that she sure as hell was. The thought made his blood boil.

  “No, I guess I don’t understand,” he lied. He’d be damned if he’d let her get away with being vague while she ripped his character to shreds.

  She gazed at him in bewilderment. “You don’t?”

  “No. Spell it out for me.”

  She pressed a hand to her chest and began fiddling with her shirt buttons. “You do understand, and now you’re angry because I’ve been worrying about it.”

  “I am not angry.” Timid little women, frigid schoolmarms, humorless nuns, and panty-waist priests got angry. He went straight past angry to totally pissed off.

  “Please, Heath. Don’t be angry. You did say I didn’t need to be guarded.”

  He had said that. “I told you, I’m not angry.”

  “Why is your jaw ticking, then?”

  He pried his teeth apart. “When I’m intent on a conversation, I sometimes grind my teeth a little.” And rip steering wheels off their columns. And drive ninety miles an hour. And fantasize about wringing a certain pretty lady’s scrawny little neck.

  She inhaled deeply and sighed. “After Dan, I guess you might say I’m more than a little hesitant about having another relationship.”

  “I can certainly sympathize with that.” He really, really wished Dan Calendri were alive so he could murder the bastard.

  “And the thought that another relationship may be imminent—well, it makes me rather uneasy.”

  As she spoke, the hand she gestured with was shaking visibly. She called that rather uneasy? In his books, it was better described as scared spitless. He started gritting his teeth again, reminding himself, without much success, that it was a dumb thing to do. He’d once gotten so pissed off and bitten down so hard that he cracked a molar.

  She pressed her lips together and stared out the windshield. He glanced at her, then back at the road, until his eyes began to feel like swivel bearings. In the lights from the pickup dash, he saw that she’d knotted both fists on her lap.

  “I will, of course, try my very best not to be difficult,” she said softly.

  “Difficult?”

  “Yes. You have e
very right to expect me to cooperate.”

  “Meredith, just to clarify, are we talking about sex?”

  She threw him a startled look. “I’d really rather not get graphic, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  Graphic? He had an awful urge to laugh. Only he was too furious. “Can I take that as an affirmative, that we are discussing sex? You and me, getting intimate. And that you’re not too hot on the idea?”

  “That’s a good way to define it, ‘not too hot on the idea.’ Only, um…” She worried her bottom lip. “Only it’s more a whole lot not too hot on the idea.”

  “And you’re worried that I’ll be a butt about it.”

  Her expression turned horrified. “Oh, no! I can’t imagine you ever being a butt about anything!”

  Heath relaxed slightly, damned glad that he’d asked. He could handle her being worried about it. Hell, he could handle her feeling terrified, even. God knew, she probably had reason. What he couldn’t handle was her thinking he’d done all this with that reward in mind, and that he’d demand it as his right, even if she resisted. That was a low blow.

  “I never meant to imply that!” she went on. “I think you’re—” She gulped and got tears in her eyes. “You are, without question, the finest man I’ve ever known. I think you even outshine my dad, and for me, that’s saying something.”

  Heath was starting to feel sheepish and very relieved that he hadn’t given in to his urge to lace her up one side and down the other. “Thank you, Meredith. That’s quite a compliment.” He flashed her an understanding smile, thinking as he did that a man with a truly admirable character should be humble. “But I gotta say your dad sounds like quite a guy, a real hard act to follow. I’ve got a few faults you probably haven’t seen yet. I am only human, so don’t put me on too high a pedestal. I may disappoint you.”

  “I know.” She blinked away the tears. “That’s why I’m so concerned.”

  Red alert. He got locked in on his driving course so he could spare her another long look. “What do you mean?”

  She shrugged, her expression conveying that she felt utterly miserable. “It’s not in a man’s nature to be very patient when it comes to—well, you know.” Her hands were still knotted into fists. She turned an imploring gaze on him. “Could we like, maybe, strike a deal? That I will try really, really hard not to be difficult, and in exchange, you’ll try equally hard not to lose your temper with me?”

  Heath felt sure he’d just flattened one of his six-hundred-dollar dental caps. “I don’t know if I can agree to that. Right now, I’m very, very close.”

  “To what?”

  “Losing my temper!” Her eyes went wide. He tried to modulate his voice. He honestly did. “I don’t force myself on a woman. No matter how much I might want her, or how much I might love her. Never, period. And I don’t expect or demand sexual paybacks just because I do a woman a few favors, even if they are big ones. And you know what else? I find it extremely insulting and offensive that you think I’d ever even consider treating you like that.”

  “Oh,” she said faintly.

  “So here’s the deal, all right? The only one I’ll agree to, at any rate. I won’t so much as touch you. Got it? So you can stop worrying. If the time ever comes that you have a strong urge to get laid and want me to do the honors, you just whistle. Goddamn fool that I am, I’ll probably come running.”

  He turned his gaze back to the road. Glared at the road, to be precise.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said in a quavery voice.

  “I’m finished discussing the subject,” he replied with biting finality. “Rule number one, when you piss me off—which you seem to be gifted at doing, I might add—is to shut up while you’re ahead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He heard a catch in her breathing and narrowed his eyes on the road. “Don’t you dare start crying, Meredith. I mean it. In my rule book, that’s dirty pool, and tears don’t work with me.”

  “I’m not. I hardly ever cry, and certainly never to manipulate someone!”

  “Good. It’d be a waste of your energy.”

  He kept glaring at the road, hoping she believed him, because he knew he’d be all over himself apologizing if she shed one tear. And right now, he didn’t want to apologize. He was royally pissed off, had every right to be, and he needed some time to work his way past it.

  Sex. That was what she thought he had on his mind. No wonder she had been clinging to her door and looking so tense. She was dreading the grand event. Christ. As if he was that desperate. He didn’t even like blondes, dammit. Especially not a short one with great big eyes, the personality of a rug, and a figure like Popeye’s girlfriend. What was her name? Olive Oil. Or was it Olive Oyle? Hell, what did it matter? The point was, Mary Calendri, a.k.a. Meredith Kenyon, didn’t have what it took to drive him to rape.

  His hands slippery with sweat on the steering wheel, Heath kept driving. At this point, it was way too late to turn back. As if he would have, even if he’d had that choice. No, what he really wanted to do was strangle her.

  As for what he expected as payback, maybe he should take his cue from her and be the bastard she obviously believed him to be, he thought furiously. Far be it from him to disappoint a lady. Her words kept slamming into his brain, making him madder and madder. Never once had he ever given her cause to think that of him. Just the opposite. When he recalled all the times he had practically glued his eyeballs to the floor to keep from ogling her figure, all the times he had wanted to kiss her and didn’t, all the times he’d fantasized about screwing her brains out and made no moves on her…Damn! Maybe he should have just copped a few feels when the mood struck. He sure as hell hadn’t earned any Brownie points by behaving like a gentleman.

  A few minutes later, he noticed that Meredith’s head was starting to nod. That really pissed him off. He felt like reaching over and pinching her awake. Wasn’t that just like a woman? She got a man so furious he was snapping at his own tail and then she took a nap.

  Glancing at his illuminated watch dial, he decided she was probably exhausted. It was after midnight, and she’d had one hell of a day. Unlike him, she wasn’t accustomed to pulling double shifts and going without rest. Nor had she learned to insulate her emotions when all hell broke loose.

  Hell, the fact that she’d fallen asleep was proof of how tired she was. For all she knew, he might pull over at any moment to start collecting on all those sacrifices he’d made for her.

  His mouth twitched at the corners. The fact that he was about to smile made him all the more furious. Who was crazier, her or him? He had it bad. No question about it. He was Stetson over boot heels in love with her.

  Stetson?

  He glanced around the truck. Son of a bitch. His hat! Where the hell had he left it? He had already thrown his badge away. His career was destroyed. The future looked so grim, even speaking of it was tantamount to saying the “F” word. Was it too goddamned much to ask that he at least get to keep his hat?

  He shot a glare at Meredith. Sleeping beauty! It was one thing to screw up his whole life for her. But, by God, a man’s hat was another matter. She sure as hell did owe him. Big time.

  Her head lolled against the door, her neck twisting toward her shoulder. She was going to get a stiff neck. And why the hell did he care? Right now, she was lucky he didn’t have his hands around her throat. His Stetson. God, he was going to miss it.

  He glanced over at Meredith again, then sighed and reached across the truck to grab her shoulder and straighten her posture. Her head lolled back over the top of the seat, her lips sputtering on a feminine snore.

  He smiled slightly, then caught himself and scowled. Damn. Even when he wanted to kill her, all it took was one look at her, and he got soft in the head.

  And hard elsewhere.

  Maybe she was right, and his motivation all boiled down to one thing: sex. She was one extremely expensive piece of ass, if that was the case. His Stetson had cost him a hundred and ten
bucks.

  The cabin was nestled high on a mountain amongst a stand of majestic pine and fir trees. In the beam of the flashlight Heath carried when he entered the cabin to light the lanterns, Meredith saw that the structure was fashioned from logs with a red aluminum roof. When she went inside moments later, she took a quick tour to discover that the furnishings were sturdy and practical. The floor plan could best be described as compact and functional, with two bedrooms, one small with a double bed, the other hardly bigger than a closet with a child-sized cot.

  After tucking Sammy into the cot for the night, Meredith scotched all thoughts of joining the child there later. Goliath immediately snuggled down beside the little girl, taking up what little extra room there was, and she didn’t think he or Sammy would appreciate it if she ousted him. That left one remaining bed, and two individuals who needed a place to sleep.

  In an attempt to block that worry from her mind, she applied herself to the task of helping Heath unload the pickup. She tried to ignore his angry scowl and the fact that he barely spoke to her, but that was difficult. He was so big. And so furious. She felt as if she were locked in a cage with an unpredictable gorilla.

  After they had carried everything inside, she busied herself putting the food away while he sorted his ammunition on the kitchen table and systematically began loading the weapons. He scarcely looked in her direction, but when he did, there was no mistaking the angry glint in his eyes.

  It was just as well that he was ignoring her, she thought, as she sank wearily onto a chair across the table from him. Watching him handle the guns made her head swim with memories of Dan, especially when he picked up the handguns, Dan’s choice of weapon. To this day, the smell of gunpowder made her feel queasy, and if Heath looked at her, he was bound to notice she was turning a little green.

  As if he would care. He was mad at her, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d never intended to offend him earlier. In fact, she’d tried her best to avoid discussing her feelings entirely. But, oh, no. He had insisted. And just look where honesty had gotten her. Now he looked as if he were chewing nails, and try as she might, she could think of no way to mend her fences.