Desperate Hearts

by Lani Aames

  “I'll hold you to that,” Dylan said and moved on.

  “I have work to do, Mace,” Talley said, trying to keep her voice steady.

  “Work,” he repeated in that stupid, patronizing tone. “So do I, darlin, so do I.”

  Obviously, it wasn't Mace's first drink of the evening. He was a little drunk, enough to slur his speech and give his words a razor edge, but not enough to pass out and save them from disaster. Or maybe he was pretending again.

  “What do you want, Mace?” Talley tried to keep her voice low, but she had to be heard above the music.

  Mace chugged down the last of the brew before answering. “My boy's out of town singing his heart out on some stage somewhere and I want his woman.”

  Warmth crept into her face and she shook her head. “Not like this, Mace.”

  He cocked his head to one side as if thinking hard. “Seem to recall I was a lot drunker than this the first time I took you.”

  “Don't, Mace.”

  “Then come home with me.” All the bitter sarcasm was gone and Talley could hear the need in him.

  “I—” she began and stopped. It was a mistake giving in to him when he was like this, but what could she do? She was afraid he might jump on the bar and shout to the world what was going on between then. She couldn't chance hurting Mitch. “I get off work in about half an hour. If you go on now and have a cup of coffee at the Grill, I'll meet you there.”

  “That's it, darlin.” He winked, slid off the barstool, and left the same way he came in, long decisive strides across the wooden floor.

  Talley took away the mug, checking it for cracks, and wiped down the bar. Dylan appeared at her side again.

  “What's eating him?”

  “H-He's worried about Mitch,” she improvised, but didn't think it was a lie.

  “He didn't pay,” Dylan pointed out, always the businessman.

  “It was my treat. Take it out of my check.”

  “And Talley, next time you see Mace, tell him not to start his hell-raising drunk shenanigans at the Rose. We're both too old for it.”

  At midnight, after everyone had cleared out, Talley grabbed her purse. With Mitch out of town, she had ridden to work with Jeannie. Talley's car needed a tune-up and new tires, but she hadn't gotten around to taking care of either.

  Outside, Talley saw Mace's truck still in the parking lot. She told Jeannie she had a lift home.

  “Are you sure, hon?”

  “I'm sure. Thanks again.”

  She waited for Jeannie to drive off before walking across the empty parking lot to the pickup. The white Ford was nearly twenty years old and great patches of rust covered the hood and fenders. Yes, the same truck she and Mitch had parked in on McKenna Lane.

  She found Mace on his knees, retching into the bushes. She controlled the urge to put her foot on his backside and flatten him into his vomit.

  Instead, she leaned against his truck. “I'm not going to pick you up, Mace. I'm not going to coddle you like some helpless baby. You're a grown man so why the hell don't you act like it?”

  He pushed himself to the side and sat with his back against a tire. “It's not the beer, Lee. I only had one other drink before I got here.” He ran his hand through his shaggy hair. “I'm sick of myself. And us. I don't know how much longer I can go on like this.”

  Then tell me what you want! her mind screamed and she bit her lip to keep from saying the words aloud. She had sworn she wouldn't prompt him. Whatever Mace wanted, he had to let her know without having to drag it out of him. She would not corner him nor threaten him. It had to come from his heart.

  “I think you gulped down that beer too fast.”

  With the help of his pickup, Mace stood. His whole body shook from the effort.

  “You coming home with me?”

  Going with Mace to what was also Mitch's home made her uneasy. Yet, Mace seemed to feel no extra guilt in the act.

  “Yes, but I'll drive.”

  Talley's heart tightened with each of the twenty miles she drove toward Shady Hollow. Mace huddled in the corner of the cab, snoring. Soon enough, Talley steered the truck up the long driveway to the sprawling farmhouse. She stopped, shifted into park, and turned off the lights and ignition. She sat for a while, smoking.

  Finally, Mace stirred.

  “We're here,” she announced and got out of the truck. She followed Mace to the front door and inside. It had been many years since she'd been in this house, not since she was a teenager. She remembered the last time. Mitch had pulled her through the living room where Mace sat with the Sunday paper, steamy cup of coffee, and cigarette. Shyly, she had greeted him, calling him Mr. Holloway. He'd barely glanced at them, nodded, and went back to his paper.

  She and Mitch had gone into the kitchen, packed a lunch, and spent the afternoon making up for the times they wouldn't be together once her family left for Chattanooga.

  “What did you think?” Talley asked after reminding him of that sunny Sunday afternoon.

  His brow wrinkled. “I don't remember that particular afternoon, but you were always around. I remember thinking you were a pretty girl and would be a beautiful woman one day. And I was right. I thought my boy was lucky to have you for his girl. I damn sure didn't think of you the way I do now, Lee.”

  “I know. I didn't think of you that way either. I was a little afraid of you. You were Mitch's father, the voice of authority, just as my mother was. All adults were the enemy. That afternoon was the day my mother told me she was marrying Frank Wilson and we were moving to Chattanooga. I didn't mind her seeing Frank and I didn't mind that she was getting married. Frank's a great guy and I wanted her to be happy. But I didn't want to move away and leave Mitch behind.”

  The silence was deafening.

  “It's why I came back, you know. I missed him so much.”

  “Then why—” he started to ask, but stopped himself. “C'mon, Lee. I'll take a shower while you make us some coffee. I never made it to the Grill.”

  Talley watched him leave the room. She could guess what his unasked question would have been. Then why haven't you slept with Mitch? Or maybe Why are you sleeping with me? How could she explain to him, or Mitch, when she couldn't really explain it to herself?

  She looked for coffee grounds and found a jar of unopened instant in a cabinet. Mace wouldn't drink anything but “real” coffee and Mitch rarely drank coffee at all. Why did he have a new jar of instant? Because of her? Had he expected to bring her to the house at some point? She didn't know what to think. She only wished Mace would hurry up and decide what he wanted.

  “Didn't mean to embarrass you at the Rose,” he mumbled as he entered the kitchen, his lean ranginess enhanced by not wearing a shirt. He often worked out in the sun with no shirt so his upper body was sun-browned while below the waist he was as smooth and pale as she.

  “Yes, you did. That's exactly what you were trying to do,” she accused as she poured him coffee. “I kept picturing you standing on the bar, shouting to the world about us. I was afraid you might do it or something equally stupid. I couldn't let you hurt Mitch like that.” She handed him his mug and sipped from hers. “I don't want to hurt Mitch at all.”

  “We've already done that. It can't be undone.” He sighed and lit up two cigarettes, handing one to her. “Have you noticed most of our talk is about Mitch lately? We never used to mention him at all.”

  Tears burned her eyes. “I have to go.”

  “I won't stop you.”

  “Good because you have to drive me. I don't feel up to a twenty-mile walk in the middle of the night.”

  “Don't go, Lee.”

  Was it really that simple? Stay and make love with Mace, feel good tonight and guilty tomorrow. She couldn't keep them separate anymore. Mitch overflowed into her strange relationship with his father. And Mace had already overshadowed her relationship with his son.

  “All right, I'll stay.” Yes, it was that simple, that basic. She would be consumed with guilt tomorr
ow, but she would also have an extra night with Mace.

  His bedroom, two doors down from Mitch's, was uncluttered. The bare necessities, but not much else, as if he were a stranger passing through this life. Mace was a man who needed little but what he did need was absolutely essential. Had that come to include her?

  She undressed and slipped into his bed, clean but unmade. He pulled off his clothes, but stood and watched her in the faint moonlight streaming through the window.

  “I don't know how many times I've imagined you lying in my bed just like that,” he murmured then crawled in beside her. She snuggled into his arm, kissed his chest, ran her hand through the sparse hair.

  If sex was the point then it was dulled by the presence of Mitch's shadow in the house. He was safely miles away but neither of them could forget him for a moment.

  “It feels right, you here beside me,” Mace said and nuzzled her hair. She turned on her side, her back against his front, and his strong arms surrounded her. A little while later, his breathing evened and he slept. Strangely, it was enough. She didn't feel frustration or annoyance at him. She agreed with him. It felt right lying beside him, drifting off to sleep. In his sleep, he nudged her backside. She smiled and closed her eyes, knowing she would see his handsomely worn face the first thing in the morning.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Talley didn't know how long they’d slept, but she awoke to her leg being lifted out of the way and Mace easing himself inside of her. She didn't open her eyes or say a thing but shifted a little to make it easier for him. When he was firmly in place, his leg underneath hers, he snuggled against her back and lay his free arm along her arm, his fingers folding between hers.

  They moved together slowly, and Talley drifted with the rhythm of Mace sliding in and out, in and out of her flesh. His warm breath passed over her ear and cheek, and she smiled.

  If she could freeze time, this would be the perfect moment to make last forever. She and Mace moving as one before the urgency took over and ended it. Then she cleared her mind of all thoughts. She didn't want to waste another precious second thinking. She only wanted to feel.

  “Mace,” she murmured as he buried himself inside of her over and over again, “yes, Mace.”

  He groaned, heightening her arousal.

  The perfect moment lasted longer than she'd ever imagined was possible, but it was coming to an end. Her skin tingled around her hips and belly and down her thighs, and her fingers and toes flexed on their own. Mace's thrusts now came harder and faster and he felt stiffer deep inside of her.

  The orgasm rippled through her suddenly. Caught by surprise, Talley cried out and Mace tightened his hold on her writhing body.

  “Darlin,” he rasped out.

  As it faded, her muscles throbbed with the release, and her eyes filled with tears.

  A pleasant thrum continued where he drove into her even harder. He thrust one last time and stayed there, pulsing, a low growl of satisfaction sounding deep in his throat.

  The tenseness left their bodies.

  They stayed as they were, bodies joined, their breaths evened, heartbeats slowed, and they fell back to sleep.

  * * * * *

  She didn't know how long they’d slept again. When she awoke this time, it was still dark and Mace wasn't beside her. She sat up, eyes wide, and found Mace at the gun cabinet. He had pulled out a handgun and was loading it.

  “Mace, what are—”

  “Hush, Lee. I heard something in the front of the house. I think somebody's broken in. Stay here.”

  Mace disappeared through the bedroom door.

  Talley scrambled to her feet and rummaged in the dark for clothes. She ran across his shirt smelling of sunshine and musky sweat and everything that made up Mace. She tugged it on, buttoning it as she ran to catch up with him.

  He jerked her a look and shook his head for her to stay back and keep quiet. Then she heard a noise and her heart rose in her throat.

  They passed through the dark kitchen and Mace stepped into the living room. Talley stayed in the doorway, frozen by the shadowy figure that moved at the other end of the room.

  Just as Mace lifted the gun, the lights snapped on and they all blinked in its sudden brightness.

  “Dammit, boy!” Mace shouted in fear and anger and dropped his arm. “I almost shot your fool head off.”

  Then no one said a word.

  Mitch's gaze swept from Mace to Talley and back again, then rested on Talley. The sight of Talley wearing nothing except Mace's denim shirt must have been almost as disturbing as seeing his father with a gun trained on him. His jaws worked but no sound passed through his open lips. He took a step forward then two back.

  Mace, in an eloquent if morbid summary of the situation, touched the barrel to his temple and made a soft exploding sound with his pursed lips. Then his shoulders slumped and he leaned against the back of the couch.

  “No. Mitch…” Talley started, but didn't know what to say. Nothing she said would wipe away the hurt and betrayal in Mitch's eyes.

  “Well,” Mitch said, at last able to make some sound. “Well, damn. This answers a hell of a lot of questions, doesn't it, Tal?”

  No, she wanted to scream at both of them, it doesn't answer anything! Instead, she said, “Oh, Mitch, it's not what you think.”

  Mitch swallowed hard. “Then you're not sleeping with my father?”

  “Oh.” Talley's hand flew to her mouth. She couldn't lie and deny it. Besides the fact that she didn't possess the quick imagination to invent a story to explain why she was here in the middle of the night wearing only Mace's shirt, she wouldn't outright lie to Mitch, not again. “That's not what I meant,” she mumbled behind her hand, not knowing what she had meant. She had been searching for words to ease Mitch's pain.

  Mitch's gray eyes glinted like steel. “Pardon the interruption, but I really have to get out of here.”

  Talley wanted to close her eyes and fade away. She wanted the floor to rip open and swallow her up. For a fraction of an instant she had the urge to grab Mace's gun and put her out of both their miseries, but she was too much of a coward to do it.

  “You'll understand if I don't stay tonight. Hell, the noise would probably keep me awake.” Mitch stalked toward the door.

  “Watch your mouth, boy,” Mace said.

  Mitch whirled around. “You don't have a boy anymore. Just remember, Daddy, I had her first.”

  Mitch went out the door before either of them could say anything else.

  Talley couldn't move and was unaware of Mace's movements until he spread the afghan from the couch around her shoulders.

  “Go after him, Lee. He might do something stupid and get himself killed.”

  Mace wiped away the tears she didn't know streamed down her face.

  “I'm sorry, Mace,” she whispered, “I didn't mean—”

  “Don't apologize to me. If anybody knows what you didn't mean, it's me. Apologize to him and try to explain.” Mace held up the revolver. “I think I'd best unload this and put it away.”

  Talley placed a hand on his arm. “You-You wouldn't do anything stupid with that thing, would you?”

  “Not me. I'm sorry he had to find out like this, but I have no regrets. Go to him, Lee.”

  Talley ran out of the house, surprised that Mitch's truck was still in the driveway. He sat inside like a cold statue. She opened the door and slid in, huddling into the afghan. The night wasn't cool, but she was trembling anyway. Mitch didn't say a word, stared straight ahead as if he didn't know she was there.

  “I love you, Mitch.”

  He jumped as if he'd been struck with a hot poker, then hit the steering wheel with his fist.

  “Hell of a thing to say to me after I find out you've slept with my—with Mace.”

  “I've always loved you. That first day of school, the first time I saw you, I went home and told my mother I loved you and would marry you when I grew up.” Talley laughed but it was a bitter sound. “You don't know how hard it wa
s for me to leave you six years ago. My mother and I battled over that for the longest time. I stayed angry with her for years. Of course she had to go with Frank, but I didn't want to leave you. You're why I came back.”

  “Then why, for God's sake? You haven't let me touch you in the six months we've been seeing each other.”

  “I've been seeing Mace for about three months—”

  “You mean this isn't the first time?” Mitch's face screwed up in confusion and his voice rose in pitch. He beat both fists against the steering wheel then yanked open the door and stumbled out. His scream of anguish cut the still night and Talley flinched at the raw sound. Fleetingly, her eyes rested on the house. Mace undoubtedly heard his son's wail of unbridled grief.

  Talley almost wished she had let him think this was the first time. It would have eased Mitch's grief and he might have gotten over one night of lost reason more easily than a continuous affair. Yet she was glad she hadn't lied. At this point all she had to offer him was the truth. Or as much of it as any of them could handle for now.

  The whole truth was too fragile for any of them to face at the moment, even herself.

  Talley slid across the seat and set her bare feet on the ground. “Will you listen to me, Mitch?”

  “Will you lie to me, Talley?”

  “No. As you pointed out, I could have done that at first. You would have believed any silly story I could have come up with because you wanted to believe. Right now I want to tell you the truth. Mace and I have been sleeping together but it has nothing to do with you.”

  Mitch laughed without humor.

  “Please, Mitch, just listen. If Mace weren't your father, just another man, it wouldn't hurt nearly as bad.”

  “I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach twice by an old mule. Talley...Talley, I love you. I thought you loved me. I wanted us to make it this time.”

  “I did, too. I do want us to make it.”

  “Damn you both!” he swore.

  “Mitch, I didn't sleep with Mace to hurt you. And Mace didn't sleep with me to hurt you either. It just happened. And I know how stupid and useless that sounds. Either of us could have stopped it but we didn't because—because...”