by Jill Shalvis
His dark gaze met hers and memories crashed around in her head: him pressing her into the mattress, his hands fisted in her hair, his talented mouth on hers, their bodies moving fluidly, in sync . . .
Damn.
If any such memories from last night hounded him, he didn’t give a single hint of it. He hadn’t shaved, and there was a tension in his sexy, scruffy jaw belying the multiple orgasms they’d shared in the night.
“Hey,” Mindy said, clueless to all of it. “Morning.”
Garrett headed for the fridge.
“I keep meaning to ask you,” Mindy said, apparently unbothered by his lack of verbiage. It wasn’t like he was Chatty Cathy on the best of days. “How’s Callie?”
At this, Garrett broke eye contact with Brooke to look at her sister. “What?”
“Remember I set you up on a date with Callie, my friend from the DMV in Paso Robles? You took her to coffee a few days ago after one of her shifts . . .” She trailed off at the look on Garrett’s face. “Oh shit. Tell me you didn’t forget to go.”
Brooke had gone to school with Callie. She was a pretty, petite blond surfer who, at least in high school, couldn’t have been sweeter or kinder.
Brooke decided she hated her.
Garrett grimaced.
“Are you kidding me,” Mindy said, whipping out her phone. “You are such an asshole.”
Whether he’d forgotten about the date or just hadn’t wanted to go, Brooke no longer hated Callie. She hated herself for falling for a man she’d told herself she no longer felt anything for. A man who’d just told her she was a mistake.
Maddox came barreling into the room, naked, holding a lightsaber and yelling “Arrrrrgggggg!” He took a flying leap at Garrett, who easily snatched him in midair.
“Look what I caught,” Garrett said. “A naked fish.”
Maddox grinned and set his head on Garrett’s shoulder.
Brooke’s ovaries squeezed.
“Missed you, too, little man,” Garrett said, and pressed his jaw to Maddox’s. After a cuddle, he set the heathen down. “Go find some clothes and you can be my assistant today. Shoes would be good, too.”
Maddox went racing out of the room, barking in excitement.
Garrett, with a long, steady look at Brooke that quite clearly conveyed what he thought of her, left as well.
Brooke let out a shuddery breath.
“What was that about?” Mindy asked.
“No idea.” She set her cup in the sink. “Gotta go.”
“Hey. The dish fairy’s dead.”
Brooke took her cup out of the sink and put it into the dishwasher.
“Where are you going?” Mindy asked.
“There’s something I’ve got to do.”
“Go sit at the top of the bluffs and take pictures?”
When Brooke gave her a look, Mindy shrugged. “Xena’s sister’s daughter’s boyfriend saw you up there looking a little shaky. I worry.”
Brooke ran the pads of her thumbs over her fingertips back and forth. “You know I haven’t been out in the wild on the job.”
“Because of the helicopter crash.”
Brooke nodded. “It changed me. I couldn’t . . .” She shook her head. “I couldn’t perform like I used to. And now adrenaline rushes give me panic attacks. I’m working on it, though.”
Mindy’s expression went earnest. “But don’t you get it? That’s why this photo job is perfect for you. It could be a step toward finding your old self again, right? Getting back into the action?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then tell me,” Mindy dared her.
Brooke couldn’t find her words, because suddenly she wasn’t so sure of what she wanted, or what might make her happy.
Mindy, looking like she was following along, reading between the lines, went from earnest to worry. “Brooke—”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” she said, because why get into it all now? She was leaving, and she intended to go back better off than she’d been when she left LA. Today she’d conquer the bluffs once and for all. Maybe tomorrow, she’d hit up the Playground, which was the locals’ nickname for the rocky stretch of cliffs about ten miles north of Wildstone. Only the talented climbers ever dared go there. She’d taught herself to climb there as a kid, and had climbed it too many times to count. The very thought of going there now made her stomach hurt.
But she was tired of being afraid. If she climbed the Playground, she’d know she’d conquered that demon, at least.
All her other demons would just have to get in line.
Chapter 13
“Did you know there’s fifty-five different kinds of tampons? Regular, super, scented, unscented, with applicator, without applicator . . . I mean, what the hell do you do without an applicator?”
The next morning, Garrett went for a long run, hoping to clear his head. It didn’t happen. He’d just made his way back to his driveway when Brooke stepped outside of Mindy’s house.
From across the two driveways they stared at each other.
He was all sweaty, but she looked fresh from a shower, damp hair pulled into some complicated braid, wearing a tee with a plaid flannel tied around her waist and little denim shorts—emphasis on little.
He moved toward her, helplessly drawn. And maybe she felt the same, as she met him halfway. They hadn’t talked about what had happened, and it was clear she didn’t want to, because she put out a preemptive strike.
“I’m off to take a little time for myself before making Mindy happy and going to work on the county job,” she said, gesturing to the camera hanging off her shoulder.
She was trying to make light of what was actually a big deal—her working outdoors again—and he nodded. “You okay?”
At the question, her polite smile vanished, replaced by a small but real one. “Yesterday, I shot Highway 1 and the coastline for this gig. Caught it at sunset with some fog hugging the water at the exact point where it was burning off. It wasn’t exactly a hardship for the paycheck.”
She wasn’t motivated by money, never had been, and seeing that once constant spark for life in her eyes got to him, whether he liked it or not.
And for the record, he didn’t like it.
“Today I’m working my way south,” she said. “Plan to hit Morro Bay.”
“The whole county could take you months.”
She looked away at that. “I made it clear that I’ll get the project outlined and started, but I can’t be the one to finish it.”
“You’re leaving.”
“Have to go by this weekend.”
His chest had tightened, even as he knew her leaving sooner than later was the best thing for the both of them. “Have to, or want to?”
She shook her head and turned to go, but he caught her hand. Slowly he reeled her in, and then, because he’d clearly lost his mind, he covered her mouth with his. He had no idea what he thought he was doing other than riling them both up, which, mission accomplished . . .
At the touch of their mouths, desire and hunger had ignited, and it was a very long moment before they broke free and stared at each other.
She pointed at him. “What is that?”
“Insanity, clearly.”
She snorted at the both of them and left.
Garrett thought about little else for the rest of the day, until now, as he washed off his tiling equipment outside one last time, since he’d just finished up Mindy and Linc’s master bath. He was being watched by his three old biddies, who sat on the porch, tails swishing, eyes narrowing in disapproval every time a stray mist from the hose came within ten feet of them.
On the other side of the fence, his neighbor’s horse kept snorting at him. She wanted attention. He looked up when he heard what sounded like an old, clunky truck pull up. In his gut he knew what he’d find when he turned to look, and yep, sure enough, it was his dad.
Terrific.
“Mew,” said Chairwoman Miao, his watch cat
. From the other side of the fence, Moose also whinnied a warning. Who needed a doorbell? Deciding to ignore his entire audience, Garrett continued to wash his tools.
He heard his dad get out of the truck, but he didn’t step onto the property, instead staying at the end of the driveway. He didn’t speak, and finally Garrett turned and looked at him. He could admit to being stunned at his dad’s appearance. He was smaller than he remembered, and frail. His clothes were clean, but extremely worn. It was such a contrast to the big, tough guy from Garrett’s past, where he’d always seemed larger than life.
“I didn’t come to bother you,” his dad said. He held up a jar of something. “I just want to leave you some beets. You seemed . . . tense, which gives you high blood pressure. Beets are really good for that, and also they help rejuvenate the liver.”
“My liver’s fine,” Garrett said.
His dad nodded. “True. Only one of us was an alcoholic.”
“One never stops being an alcoholic, Dad. Not for your job, not for your kid . . . not for anything.”
“Also true.” His dad set the jar of beets on Garrett’s porch and moved back to his old Ford. It looked to be on its last legs, all beat to shit. Once upon a time, it might’ve been red, but now it was rust brown. In the front seat sat a huge black Labrador, his head hanging out the window enjoying the warm day, smiling around a tennis ball in his mouth.
The happy dog was such a contrast to the piece-of-shit truck and the shocking way his father had aged into a frail, haggard, hollowed-out old man that Garrett stopped what he was doing and came closer. “You’ve got a dog?”
“Snoop,” his dad said proudly.
“Hey, Snoop.” Garrett held out a hand to the dog, who happily dropped his ball to give Garrett a lick, his big tail going so fast it was a blur. “Thought you hated dogs,” he said to his dad. “That’s what you always told me.”
His dad grimaced and rubbed a hand over his thinned-out gray hair. “The truth’s that I couldn’t take care of myself back then, much less you. No way could I have handled a dog. I’m sorry, son.”
Garrett shook his head. “What are you really doing here? You need money?”
“No, nothing like that. I’m just here to—”
“Make amends. So you said.”
His dad met Garrett’s gaze. “I realize you have no reason to believe me, but I’ve changed.”
“Save it,” Garrett said. “I’m not interested. Feel free to go back to wherever you’ve been living since you got out, which I’m sure is better than Wildstone, where everyone remembers you as the town drunk.”
“I was also a handyman, and a damned good one,” his dad said, with a mildness that Garrett actually admired, because he was feeling anything but mild.
“Do you know what I remember most about my eighth birthday?” Garrett asked. “You picking me up after school, having come straight from the bar. On the way home, you drove off the road, through a front yard, and into someone’s house. That one put you away for a year and was the first time I ended up in a foster home, and not a good one.” Actually, it’d been the kind of place that nightmares and horror movies were made of, but he didn’t want to think about it, much less discuss it.
His dad swallowed hard, but didn’t break eye contact. “Shit, son. I’m so—”
“Sorry. Yeah, I know. You got out of prison at Christmastime. You realized you didn’t have any money, so you decided to rob a liquor store that time. Later you told the judge it was a twofer: you thought you could get presents and booze at the same time. I didn’t see you again after that, so I’m going to take a hard pass on this family reunion you’re looking for, thanks.” He turned to go back to cleaning his tools.
“I actually did see you again,” his dad said.
Garrett looked back. His dad lifted a shoulder, his expression dialed to regret and guilt and possibly shame. “When I got out, I came to Wildstone. You were here, playing dodgeball with some of the other kids. You were smiling. Happy.” He paused. “I’d never seen you look like that before. Seemed like you had a real good thing you had going, you know? I didn’t want to blow that.”
“Not even to say hi? Or make sure I really was okay?”
Shame crossed his dad’s face. “Look, I was an asshole, all right? We both know that you were far better off without me.”
“So you thought me being raised by someone else was for the best.”
“Ann was a good woman.”
“She was amazing,” Garrett agreed. “She gave me my first real home, my first unconditional love. She was my foundation. She was everything a parent should be.”
His dad winced, but still held eye contact and nodded—and hell, that was actually something Garrett respected him for. But it took a back seat to the piles of resentment built up inside him, eating at him ever since his dad had knocked on his door yesterday morning.
“Didn’t you get my letter?” his dad asked. “Explaining why I was leaving you here?”
“You mean the Dear John note? Yeah, I got it.” And he’d burned it. Ann had helped him work through some of his anger, and with time he’d learned to let it go. He’d done his best to be a big brother to the other kids in the house, gotten close to the family next door—the Lemon sisters—and learned early on how to be a good caretaker. Growing up, he’d translated that into coaching and mentoring other kids like him, kids who otherwise might’ve slipped through the cracks and been lost. He’d stayed in Wildstone because he liked it here, because the place fulfilled him. He loved the wide-open spaces, the beauty of the hills and the ocean. A man could actually hear himself think here.
His dad didn’t say anything more, and Garrett didn’t look at him again. A few minutes later, he heard the truck start up with some coughing. The old man needed spark plugs.
Then there was nothing but his dad’s dust in the air.
“Just like old times,” he told the cats and horse, and went back to washing the tools. When he finished, he was suitably hot, tired, and also still pissed off. He needed a shower and sleep, but even more, he needed food. Since he hadn’t been grocery shopping recently—a chore he hated more than cleaning cat litter, and he hated that pretty effing bad—there was nothing waiting for him inside. So he got into his truck.
He took the long way into town because he needed the brain rest. He passed a stretch of ranches and wineries, the lush land dotted with sprawling oak trees, cattle, and grapevines. There was also state land that was home to hiking trails and some hidden campgrounds. As he passed the trailhead and parking area, he took in the fact that there weren’t many vehicles there yet. Not a surprise. When summer was in full swing, tourists would pour in, but it was early yet. This meant the few there stood out.
Specifically, a battered old Ford.
Shit. He made an illegal U-turn on the two-lane highway. A minute later, he parked at the trailhead and got out of his truck. He took the trail from the lot and came to the campgrounds where, sure enough, he found his dad standing near a campfire. He was with a few others, in the middle of handing one of them some money.
Clearly surprised to see Garrett, he fumbled. “Son, what are you doing here?”
“Was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Oh.” His dad pulled off his ball cap and scratched his head before putting the hat back on. “Just visiting some old friends.”
Garrett really wanted to believe this, but he didn’t. This campground was one of the few in the area that didn’t charge overnight fees, making it a favorite spot for the homeless.
Snoop padded over, looking at Garrett with big, soulful brown eyes as he dropped his tennis ball at Garrett’s feet, his tail sweeping the ground as it waved back and forth.
Squatting low, Garrett stroked his hand down the dog’s back. “Hey, Snoop.”
Snoop promptly melted into a puddle at Garrett’s feet for a few pets. Garrett obliged, then picked up the ball and threw it.
Snoop happily chased after it, ears flopping, tail going a m
ile a minute.
“Now you’ve done it,” his dad said. “He’s going to want you to throw it until your arm falls off.”
And sure enough, Snoop came back with the ball.
Garrett threw it again. “Are you living out here, Dad?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
If only he could believe that, too. He threw the ball for a few more minutes and then turned to his dad. “I’m going to ask you again. Do you need money?”
“Absolutely not.”
All right, then. With nothing else to say, Garrett got back into his truck and left.
Twenty minutes later, he was at the store. In the first aisle he ran into Callie, the woman Mindy had tried to set him up with. She looked over his cart, which held beer and eggs so far. “Okay, so you’re clearly still single. Should I give you a second chance?”
At any other time, he’d have jumped on that. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the night he’d spent with Brooke—in Brooke and on Brooke and . . . well, every which way with Brooke. Somehow, in spite of his efforts, she was worming her way in, knocking down his walls one by one, which was probably why he’d been such an asshole to her. Grimacing, he scrubbed a hand down his face, but no matter what he’d told her, he knew that for as long as she stuck around, there wouldn’t be another woman for him.
With a regretful smile, Callie moved on.
He was still reeling from his epiphany when he ran into Linc in aisle five, pushing an overloaded cart with one arm and carrying Maddox, barking at high decibels, surfboard-style under the other. Linc still had a stethoscope around his neck, but his tie was loose and his hair was crazy. The mystery of this was solved when he shoved a hand through it as he reviewed what appeared to be a shopping list.
“Your kid’s barking,” Garrett said.
“I know.” Linc set Maddox down. “He’s got to go to the bathroom. We’re almost done here. I think. Mindy’s got tampons on the list. Did you know there’s fifty-five different kinds of tampons? Regular, super, scented, unscented, with applicator, without applicator . . . I mean, what the hell do you do without an applicator?”
