by Rya Stone
“Have you ever been here with another woman? Or maybe two?”
He twisted all the way now, facing her. “What?”
“Ever been with two women at the same time?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?”
“I heard you had.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Heard you liked that. Just wondering what I’m getting into here.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“One of Daphne’s friends just casually mentioned it the other night at Hintzen.”
“Christ,” he muttered.
“Was it her? Sasha and Daphne?”
“Hell no.”
“Then why did she say that?”
He took a few heavy steps in her direction, and his expression grew even darker, if that was possible. “Because Daphne didn’t keep her mouth shut. She wanted to know every detail about my past and then she didn’t like what she heard.”
“So it’s true?” Cassie tilted her chin up, refusing to back down.
“Yeah, I’ve had two women at the same time.”
“Seriously?” Unwanted visuals raced through her mind and gutted her insides.
“Yeah. And to be honest, it wasn’t that great. More like blowing off steam during a furlough.”
Okay, that was definitely prior to her need-to-know timeframe, but she couldn’t help asking, “Were they prostitutes?”
Jase’s head jerked back. “No, babe, they weren’t prostitutes.” He took another step into her space and his eyes softened, though his face lost none of its darkness. “And no, I haven’t been with copious numbers of women. I spent twelve years in the military. Combat zones aren’t exactly sexual hotbeds, but shit happens. That happened. It hasn’t happened again.”
“Okay,” she whispered, ashamed she’d dredged up the memory, but definitely relieved he wasn’t the man-slut he could’ve been with that face, that body. Those tats. Lord.
His fingers stopped near her mouth before dropping. “You wanted to know. Now you know.”
Yeah, now she knew. Now she couldn’t un-know. Or take back her bitchiness. “I, um, I was only worried because I read it was one of the top male fantasies, and I…I just thought maybe you were into that.”
Jase threw back his head, chuckling. “You read it?”
“Yeah, in Cosmo,” she muttered.
“Cosmo?”
“I was at a doctor’s office! I usually pick up Texas Monthly but they didn’t have it and…I wanted to know. What’s so funny?”
“Not funny, babe. It’s sexy as hell thinking about you sitting in a doctor’s office reading that.” He clasped a hand to her butt and drew her body to his. “And as much as I’d like to hear about the rest of your highly academic research, we need to get moving.”
“About that…”
He sighed and released his grip. “Cassie, you have a busted door and four flat tires. I’m getting you out of here.”
“Just…just give me a minute. I need to process a few things.” How could she go from angry to jealous to turned-on in a matter of minutes? Welcome aboard the new relationship roller coaster, my dear. And she probably needed to tighten her safety belt for this one. Wait…is that what this was? A relationship? No. No way. But at the same time, it no longer felt like fling territory. Still, packing up her temporary home had a feel of finality, of commitment she wasn’t quite ready to embrace.
“What do you need to process?”
“Threesomes? Slashed tires? Busted doors? Someone who wants to get to you through me?” She drew a ragged breath. “Can you just give me a few hours?”
“Yeah.” He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity. “Do what you need to do. I’ll be back.” He brushed his lips against hers and held her close for a minute. It was a tender move and somehow just as powerful as the deep kiss she’d thought he’d demand.
But he wasn’t done.
His lips skimmed her temple, her cheek, her jaw, and when they found her lips, he lingered, whisper soft and barely touching her. The delicious anticipation proved both seductive and frustrating, a microcosm of the man himself. She was tired of waiting for him, on so many levels, and she pressed her mouth to his, demanding more. Of him. Of everything he had to offer, whether he wanted to give it up or not. Oh, and he did. Her glee quickly morphed into ache as he gathered her in his arms and melted into her mouth. She grasped his hand, about to drag him to her bed, when she remembered the door. He must have mistaken her hesitation for goodbye, because he squeezed her hand, cocked her a half grin, and whispered, “Bye.” And she was too spun-out to stop him.
She managed to kind of shut the door behind him. What she wasn’t able to do was think straight. Instead, she went through the motions. She called the police, her insurance company, a tow truck, and a car rental place.
She also called the front desk, explaining her car had been vandalized and her door kicked in. She didn’t mention that two different people played roles in the destruction. Jase possessed a less-than-stellar track record at the motel and she needed a ride to wherever she’d be staying instead of a meeting with a bail bondsman. Even so, when the front desk clerk offered another room, she ended up telling him to hold it, positive there wouldn’t be any openings at the Tee-Pee and leery of staying with Jase.
The last thing she needed was to further tick off the natives, though something told her she was about to tick off one in particular. A very big one.
…
Jase stared at Cassie’s broken door across the parking lot. He couldn’t stop thinking about her sweet mouth, her desperate kiss. And he couldn’t seem to start his damn truck. Something sick gnawed at his work-weary bones.
No telling how long he’d sat watching, immobile. Sleep deprivation will do that, make you lose sense of time. But dead man walking or not, he’d be damned if she was going to spend another night in the same motel he’d witnessed the nightmare of Daphne’s betrayal come to life five long years after the initial act.
“I’m in town,” Daphne crooned into her phone. “The River Inn. There’s someone here who wants to see you.”
The scene flashed through his mind in a series of blurry, bloody still shots: his boot splintering the door in response to Daphne’s screams; the other form on the bed, covering her body with his; Cody nowhere to be seen; the sobering realization that Daphne wasn’t screaming because she didn’t like what Oscar was doing to her.
Jase had responded as if in combat, had barely registered the swipe of a blade across his chest. His body might not have noticed, but his mind, his heart…the sutures had been ripped free. He’d left Oscar on the floor, cursing in Spanish, both hands covering his face. Dazed, he’d emerged from the room to a chaos of flashing lights and a swarm of deputies. Knowing exactly what he’d done, Jase had dropped his knife to the concrete and his body to its knees, hands behind his head.
But none of that bothered him now.
Someone had slashed Cassie’s tires. Someone had been right outside her room last night. Someone who wished her ill. Her door wouldn’t even close now thanks to his little demonstration. He’d hoped to scare her into vigilance. He’d succeeded in making her more vulnerable, even for the few hours it would take to check his crews.
No. He couldn’t take the risk. He couldn’t leave her until the room mess got straightened out. That was his fault after all.
Reeling, he crossed the parking lot and crashed through Cassie’s door like a zombie.
“Jase!”
He blinked his gritty eyes a few times, bringing into focus the golden-haired angel beside the bed.
The bed…
He spun around the room, making it swim. With all the strength he had left after manually wrenching free a hung pipe casing then rushing into town to break down a door he stared at for an hour or more, he shoved the ratty armchair next to his girl’s window across the threadbare floor and barred the splintered door as best he could.
“What are you doing? My God, you can barely stand up.”
/>
Concern. Her voice rang with worry. For him.
He lurched for the bed like a drunk. “I need to lie down.” And I’m not doing it anywhere but here.
Cassie fluttered, somewhere in his blurry peripheral vision. “Yeah, just…”
He crashed, not bothering to remove his boots.
“…make yourself at home.”
“Just need…to close my eyes for a few minutes.”
He sensed her moving about but couldn’t lift his forearm from his eyes. The last thing he remembered was a blanket too soft for any motel room being drawn over his shoulders.
12:42
That’s what the green numbers visible through the slits of his eyelids read. He forced them all the way open and saw weak sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains.
P.M.
Thank God.
And he couldn’t believe he’d slept for so long, what with his beeping phone alerting him to awaiting messages and that…dipping on the bed. He turned to see Cassie piling the last of her bags on the foot of the bed beside his outstretched form.
“Got all my shit packed.”
He sat up and rolled his neck. “Good girl.”
“Don’t sound so excited, buddy. Thought this was your idea.”
It was, and he fumbled for his phone, hoping one of the messages was from Otis over at the Tee-Pee. Cassie disappeared into the bathroom while he listened, offering a privacy he hadn’t demanded. And didn’t particularly want.
She emerged a few minutes after he’d completed his last call, her lips turned down as if fighting a smile. Or frown. He wasn’t sure which.
“I have a different room for tonight,” she admitted.
No way. “What you have is Otis holding you a room at the Tee-Pee,” he said, stepping toward her and lowering his voice. “Keep flashing those dimples, though, and you’re going straight to my bed,” he promised. “No motel for you.”
“And how do you plan on carrying through after this abduction, Mr. Lucas?” And by damn if she didn’t pop those dimples for all they were worth. “Because the last time I checked, you were working nights.”
He responded with a weary smile, and Cassie’s smarty-pants expression faded as she took him in, as if for the first time. And what did she see? Dark shadows under his eyes? The reminder of Clint’s fist on his jaw?
He let his lids slip shut against the onslaught, but they sprang open at the feather-light fingers coursing over his cheek. “Baby, you need more rest.”
His mouth parted in surprise.
“You do,” she said. “I can see it on your face, in your shoulders. Drilling rigs are no place to doze off—”
He cut her off by brushing his thumb across her lips. “You called me baby.”
She smiled that smart-ass little smile. “You got a patent on that?”
“Figured you slipped up,” he said, cupping her cheek “Now’s the time to take it back.”
She pressed into his palm. Sweet.
“Your dimples are on display again.” Sweet enough to bring a man to his knees.
“I’d like you to get some rest,” she whispered. “Real rest, minus the boots this time.”
“I can’t. I’m leaving town and need to shore up a few things first.” The decision had been made as he’d spoken, as he’d looked into her eyes. No woman had ever looked at him like Cassie just had. And it wasn’t just those luminous bay-water eyes. There was something there, something precious, a part of her soul. He realized then that he’d lost a part of his own soul somewhere along life’s bloody path. He wanted it back, and he wanted her to help him find it. At the same time, he’d not endanger that part of her, any part of her, and the Tee-Pee was just too damn close.
“You’re…you’re going out of town?” Her furrowed brow mirrored a sinking heart—he could have sworn it—and his own heart swam in his chest.
“Yeah, I’m going out of town,” he repeated. “And you’re coming with me.”
“That sounds good,” she said. “But…” An unnamable expression crossed her face, a pain he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It wasn’t hurt, not exactly, and whatever it was, it wasn’t hers. Her mother. She went home to her mother on the weekends.
“Tell me,” he urged.
“It’s my mom. She’s…had a rough week.”
“If you need to go…” He chewed his lip. “What if I went with you?”
She shook her head, so he left it and pulled her into his chest. “Where’s your car?”
“The body shop towed it this afternoon. They have to order the tires, and it’s going to be a few days. In the meantime, that’s my shiny red F150 outside.”
“Should’ve had a truck to begin with in your line of work.”
“Don’t remind me. Oh, the police came and took pictures, but I didn’t tell them about the door. I told the front desk—”
“The police?” His arms tightened around her.
“Yeah, you know, drive black and whites, like donuts? Though I’ve always thought that was an unfair stereotype, I’m sure they like kolaches, too.”
“You called the police?” His hands dropped to his sides, and he fought to keep from clenching them into fists.
“My tires were slashed. Aside from the fact that vandalism is a crime, my insurance needed a police report.”
“A police report.” He said it flatly, trying to contain himself and still reeling from the sudden end to their warm and fuzzy.
“Really, Jase?” She was struggling, too, but he wasn’t prepared to explain.
He regained the ground he’d given up, edging on in-her-face territory. “Yeah, Cassie, really. You don’t call the police. You call me. I take care of my own shit.”
“Yeah well, seeing as how this is my shit—”
He cupped her chin and pulled her face to his. “Your shit is my shit right now.” He’d gone from an almost Spartan existence to a man on the edge of crossing every line he’d drawn for himself when it came to the opposite sex. But it was true. He wanted to take care of her in a way he hadn’t felt…maybe ever. It was crazy, yes, but it was a different kind of crazy than he’d experienced with Daphne. Cassie wasn’t creating the drama surrounding them. No, he’d brought it to her doorstep. Quite literally. And he wasn’t about to let her muck through it alone. “I would’ve bought you new tires,” he said. “You wouldn’t have had to file a claim or a police report.”
“This is sounding way too serious. I don’t expect you to handle my business.”
“Too serious? Baby, this…” He almost called it a fling, to use her descriptor. But even she had to know their fling was a sham at this point. But so was him thinking she might actually stay when her prospect ended. That thought hit him with a thud. “This…thing between us? It’s been serious.” He couldn’t say when, but the why was staring back at him. Cassie’s expression battled between trust and fear, and he wondered when exactly it had turned into more for him. The minute she’d reminded him how quickly she’d be gone? No. Hell no. The truth was he’d wanted her from day one, he just hadn’t let himself admit to what extent. And the more he got to know her, the stronger the need for “more” became. The whole package. That’s what stood before him. He wanted to unwrap it, savor it. Own it.
“We haven’t even slept together yet,” she whispered.
He forced his eyes to soften, to hold hers a long minute before trailing down her chest. “We’ll stash your stuff at my camper,” he said, snapping his head up. “But I need you to pack a bikini for the weekend.”
“Excuse me?” she choked.
Which part had she not understood? “You heard me.” He stalked close again. “Bikini.”
“I don’t have a bikini.”
“I’ll buy you one.”
She crinkled her nose. “I mean, I don’t wear bikinis. I haven’t worn one in years.”
“Why not?” He gave her the same frown he had at the Backstreet when she’d wanted to order a salad.
“I don’t exactl
y have a bikini body.”
His frown deepened. “Says who?”
Cassie rolled her eyes. “Um, the entire fashion world.”
Christ, she was blind. Or hoodwinked. And he wanted to kick over every magazine rack in the supermarket. “Think you need ribs sticking out to pull off a bikini? That’s not what men want. Not men like me. I want real. I want a soft pair of breasts, curvy thighs, a fat ass. That’s what’s real.”
“See? Even you admit my ass is fat.”
“That’s not how I meant it, and you know it. I’d like to know who the hell convinced you your body isn’t perfection.” In truth, he only needed about half a guess and couldn’t wait to run into Reid Billings again.
“Perfection? Jase, seriously. In fact, the piney woods are sounding pretty appealing right now.”
“If you decide to go home this weekend, I understand. But if you decide to come with me…” He didn’t want to take her from her mother, and yet the desire to be with her, to touch her—it was an ache that wouldn’t go away. He reached for her hair, then let the locks slide though his fingers. “The decision is yours. But listen to me very carefully. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll know how perfect you are. You won’t ever doubt it again.” And you won’t be telling me we haven’t slept together yet. Whatever happened, he’d make sure of that before Cassie Mitchum walked out of his life.
And that was just a matter of time.
Chapter Thirteen
The “shoring-up” Jase had to do before leaving town consisted of driving out to a well site to speak with a foreman. It was a long, boring drive to the edge of one of the neighboring counties. He still declared it the best rig check he’d ever been on. It probably had to do with the way she crowded next to him on the bench seat. As if there were any other way to ride in that big, sexy truck of his.
“Why aren’t you mad at Heath?” she asked. Jase’s buddy had been MIA from Rig Three for the past few days, apparently.
“I was. But I can’t stay mad at Heath. And I get it. The way we grew up together, running wild through these woods…” He clutched the hand she held on his leg. “Heath’s not like me. I can make my way in the working world. Heath can’t leave the woods behind. He’s daydreaming about duck hunting while he’s supposed to be feeding drill stem. It’s probably for the best.”
