by Lani Aames
She should have chosen a better time and place, but the overwhelming force had hit her suddenly, without warning. She barely recalled making the decision. Her arms and legs had seemingly moved of their own accord, and she’d found herself going to him. She had never expected to have to drive to the backside of nowhere to see him.
Just a few minutes, enough time to look at him and see how he was doing, then she would leave.
He was stringing new barbed wire from post to post and Talley stopped and watched him awhile. He must have known she waited. He had to have heard the car and looked back to see who it was. She watched him tighten the wire then fasten it down.
The thought crossed her mind that he might not want to see her at all. Earlier her feet had moved on their own, but now she couldn't make them go any further. Time passed and finally Mace straightened, seemed almost to brace himself, and turned. He looked at her, motioning for her to come to him.
Only then did her body respond—in more ways than one. She walked toward him, but her knees were weak and her heart beat faster. She missed Mace with a desperation that frightened her.
Mace walked to his truck and leaned against it, pulling off his heavy gloves. He lit two cigarettes, then drew on one as he held the other out to her. When she reached him, she took it and dragged deep.
She missed smoking with him. And having coffee with him. And their Sunday morning ritual. And their Saturday night delight. She still wanted to find out how it would feel to wake up to his weatherworn face after a night of only sleeping in his arms.
Talley stood very close to him, their arms touching.
“Good to see you, Lee.”
Thick drops of rain mixed with ice stung her face, but didn't bother her. She felt such a perfect peace standing next to Mace, listening to his dry, quiet voice.
“Hell of a time to be mending fences,” she said, then caught the double meaning of the words.
Mace caught it too. “Never too late to mend fences. Or burn bridges. Which is it, Talley?”
She shrugged. The temperature seemed to be dropping by the minute. Or maybe it was Mace who caused her to feel colder. He’d called her Talley—that should tell her something. If she left right now, she might make it home before it was fully dark.
“Junior told me you were here. I wanted to see you. It's been awhile.”
“Twenty weeks tonight. Mitch and I talked. We made our peace.”
“I know. He told me you explained everything about his mother. I'm so glad you did. He understands now.” When Mace didn't say anything, just stared at her, she asked, “Are you angry with me?”
“No more angry with you than myself. No, Talley, I don't hold any of it against you. I was drunk but I knew what I was doing that first night.”
“I don't even have the excuse of being drunk.”
“It's not my excuse!” he snapped with a flare of anger. He tossed his cigarette and stomped it out.
“I didn't mean—”
“I got work to do, Talley. You set fire to this bridge and it's all burned down.”
He strode over to the fence, pulling on his gloves. He knelt and began stringing wire again, effectively dismissing her.
“The rain is turning to ice, Mace. You might get stuck up here.”
He searched the sky and shook his head. “It won't accumulate on the roads.”
“Mace?”
“Yeah,” he grunted, tightening the wire.
Talley walked closer to him. “Mace.”
He didn't answer her that time. One word, any word, and she would…
“You'd best be getting back. That car of yours ain't the most reliable. And you need new tires. Go on now.”
“Yes, Mace.”
Darkness had come sooner than she’d expected, so she could barely see her way to the car. The tears that filled her eyes didn't help. She ran, stumbled, fell into the car and started it. She turned up the heat. God, she was cold, so cold, and only part of it was the weather. Mace had left her frostbitten.
She sat awhile, too shaken and cold to drive. She couldn't believe he hadn't done or said anything more personal than giving her a lit cigarette. He hadn't called her darlin’, hadn't called her Lee after that first slip. And what did she expect? He had reconciled with his son over their stupid mistake. He couldn't risk losing Mitch a second time. She knew she shouldn't have come.
The freezing rain had turned to fine bits of ice by the time she pulled on the lights, turned the car around, and drove away. Patches of ice covered everything, no matter what the weatherman and Mace had said.
Hypnotically, the wipers worked to scrape the slush off the windshield. Wasn't it time to face the truth yet? Wasn't it time to say to herself—
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a red truck, crossways in the road ahead. The same pickup she'd seen earlier. Jack Sandler. What was he doing out here, blocking the road, unless he had trouble…or was bent on causing trouble?
Without hesitation, Talley swung the car to the right to go around the truck. With no room on the narrow road, she had to drive onto the soft shoulder. She hit the mud with a bump and moved along nicely for ten feet, then the front of her car bogged down, pitching her forward.
Lock the doors! the warning screamed in her head. As she raised up and reached for the button, the door was yanked open beneath her fingers. Rough hands grabbed her and pulled, but Talley screamed and fought him, striking out at him with her fist.
“Stop it, bitch!” Jack Sandler yelled. It was then Talley saw the knife in his hand and she froze. He pressed the blade to her neck. “Get out of the car.”
Mace, she thought, hurry!
She did as Jack told her. When she was out, Jack moved the knife away and tightened his grip on her arm. Without the blade at her throat, she dug in her feet and resisted, twisting her arm to break free. Jack swung around, the knife coming toward her. Desperately, she threw all her weight backwards. His hand slipped and she tumbled into the ice-covered mud.
Before she could scramble away and get to her feet, Jack was on top of her. He clenched a handful of hair at the top of her head and put the blade to her throat once again.
“Mace,” she croaked. “Mace Holloway will be along any minute.”
Jack glanced uneasily up the road.
His grip tightened in her hair and her head throbbed. Where was Mace? He couldn't be mending his fences in the dark, in the pelting ice. Why didn't he come?
Jack looked back at Talley and grinned wolfishly.
“Mace?” he asked and something clicked in his mind. “You up here with Mace? Where's Mitch the Snitch?”
“I-I” Talley faltered. She was no good at lying. “Mace is repairing the fence. Mitch is out of town and I came up here to-to give him a message from Mitch.”
The words sounded thin to her own ears and some false tone must have set off alarms in Jack's head. “You and Mace, huh?”
“No, you idiot. What the hell do you think you're doing, Jack? Let me go and help me get my car out of the ditch.”
He put his face real close to hers and it was then that she smelled the heavy aroma of whiskey clinging to him like a cloud.
“Mace can't stay much longer in the dark and the snow. He will be coming along, he will.” She didn't know if she tried to convince Jack or herself.
“But he hasta give you a good head start, don't he?”
“You're talking crazy, Jack.”
“Naw, I don't think so. I heard something a while back, about you and Mace. Even told my good buddy Mitch, but you know what? He didn't act real surprised. And that shack up here, the old Holloway house'd make a good place to sneak away to.” Suddenly, he pulled her to her feet. “Come on, easy like. Don't make me use this. If you can give it away to an old fart like Mace Holloway, you can give me a piece too.”
Jack was a bully, too cowardly to follow through on his threats. Even if he did slit her throat, it was no great loss. Mitch couldn't trust her and Mace couldn't want her. Nothing
else mattered. She'd rather be dead than at Jack's mercy. “No, Jack. I'm not going with you. Use the knife if you have to, but I'm not moving.”
Jack pressed the knife harder and she thought she felt a trickle of warmth from it, but she couldn't be sure. Too much snow and she was too cold. She didn't feel any pain.
He growled, deep in his throat like a wild animal ready to attack, and suddenly let her go. He swung his fist and stars exploded in her head as pain burst through. She staggered back against her car and Jack hit her again and again. She wasn't aware of the cold or the snow anymore, or even when she fell to her knees. All she felt was intense pain with each of Jack's blows. There was a final impact to her side and she was only vaguely aware of the sound of a vehicle driving away.
“Mace...” she moaned as she tried to move.
But then darkness crept in and overcame her as she passed into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER TEN
Mace tucked the blankets in around her more securely then brushed a strand of hair from her face. The bruise under her eye had darkened to deep purple since he’d brought her in. He had pulled a chair close to the bed and sat there, watching for signs of discomfort or regaining consciousness. The coffee had grown cold in his cup, but he didn't want to leave her side even for a few minutes in case she woke up and needed him.
He leaned back in the chair. He didn't know who had done this, but he suspected and the son of a bitch was as good as dead.
When Talley had come to him this afternoon, he should have told her. But he and Mitch had found a way around what he had done and as much as he wanted and needed this woman, he couldn't risk losing his son again. He wasn't a man who shed tears except over the most sorrowful of things, but his eyes filled with them now. How could he go on without her?
He wiped at them angrily. He'd have to. She had made her choice. The night Mitch came home unexpectedly and found them, she had gone with him. On the other hand, he hadn't asked her to stay. He'd never given her any reason to choose to stay. He knew if she had chosen him that night, Mitch would have been lost to him forever. So he’d told her to go with his son. Maybe Talley knew it, too.
Mace needed coffee. What he really wanted was a bottle of Jack Daniels, but he had cleared the place of liquor some time ago. Here and at the house. Drinking had no answers, made his problems worse. He jumped to his feet.
Quickly, he tossed the cold coffee, poured fresh from the pot on the stove, and returned to his chair. He wished she'd awaken. It wasn't a good sign that she’d stayed unconscious this long.
He sipped the strong brew and thought of that first night. He had been so drunk he barely remembered going to the Rose. He and Dylan were on the outs over a brawl he'd started some months before. Tore the place up. Even though he'd paid for the damage, Dylan didn't want him around anymore. Mace still couldn't remember what the fight had been about. He had stayed away until that Saturday night. He couldn't recollect why he’d decided to stop in at the Rose on his way home.
Talley had been tending bar. He'd seen her around a few times. He and Mitch weren't getting along. Mitch wanted to follow his dreams, but Mace had a farm to run. Neither would give an inch. Too much alike, he guessed, too damned stubborn for their own good. They were always so angry with one another. Mitch hadn't bothered bringing Talley out to Shady Hollow although he told Mace she was back and he was seeing her again.
Dylan wouldn't let Talley serve him. She offered to take him home, saying Mitch could drive her back when he got in. Instead, she took him to her place, saying she wasn't up to the long drive. She fit perfectly under his arm as she helped him to the door. She let him fall on her couch, and he only remembered a glimpse of her as she walked back toward her bedroom before he passed out.
He woke about four in the morning, wondering where he was and what he was doing there. He lay there in the dark and thought for a while. Gradually, bits and pieces had floated to the surface: the three-day drunk he'd been on, wandering into the Rose when he knew he wasn't welcome, Talley helping him inside. He got up slowly, still a little drunk, and went to the kitchen sink. He found a glass and drank cold water till he thought he'd bust.
In her tiny bathroom, he didn't think he'd ever quit pissing. Then he shucked his clothes and showered until her hot water ran out. Clean, mostly sober, he’d stepped close to the door of her bedroom and called out, “Talley?”
She’d told him she'd be out in a minute. He sat in one of her kitchen chairs, wishing for coffee, and waited. Sleepily, she came out dressed all in white, a thin cotton robe over a thin cotton gown. White cotton socks covered her feet and he found that incredibly sexy. It aroused him like nothing had in a very long time. She offered to make him breakfast and he nodded. He stared at her feet as she moved around the small kitchen. He wasn't hungry, but he wanted to watch her walk around on her sock-covered feet.
His appetite stirred as the trailer filled with the smells of bacon, eggs, and toast. She had made him a cup of instant coffee and he grimaced as he sipped it. He liked real coffee made from coffee grounds, the stronger the better, but hers would have to do. She set their plates down and sat across from him.
He shifted in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position for his hard-on. He couldn't very well stand and rearrange things like he needed to. Hopefully it would go down on its own and he wouldn't have to worry about it at all.
He wolfed down the food she had prepared while she nibbled at hers. She kept her eyes on her plate and they didn't say much. He scraped up the last of the eggs with his toast and popped it in his mouth.
“Do you want something else?” she asked, her pretty blue eyes lighting gently on his old, worn-out face.
He shook his head, wiped his mouth and hands on the napkin she'd placed there for him. He took a long drink of coffee, trying to ignore the constriction in his pants, and wondering what to say to her.
Mitch's girl, he reminded himself uncomfortably. No, Mitch's woman. Mitch was a grown man and Talley Robinson had grown into a beautiful woman. Beautiful in a way he couldn't describe. She'd never be in a picture ad in a magazine, but that was good. Those perfect women, while nice to look at, were a little scary in their perfection.
Making a pass at his son's girlfriend wasn't the brightest thing he'd ever do, but the desire to do it was irresistible. It had to do with white socks and watching her make breakfast. It'd been years since he'd watched a woman cook for him, one of the little things a man missed when he didn't have a wife anymore.
He had loved Mitch's mother with his whole heart. But Ellen's death was more than twenty-two years past and the raw ache of missing her had dulled long ago. Now he missed the little things the most. Well, he'd make the pass. She'd turn him down and that would be that. She might tell Mitch. Mace would take the blame, make some excuse that it was a misunderstanding. He'd never touch her again, but right then he wanted to touch her more than anything in the world.
Talley stacked their plates and utensils and stood. The thin robe and gown revealed more than they could ever hope to hide. He drew in a sharp breath and she looked at him, those pretty blue eyes questioning.
“More coffee?” was all she asked and took his cup along with the other dishes to the sink.
Now or never, Mace decided. One shot is all you get. He knew he wasn't thinking clearly or smartly. He'd never been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he had never been outright stupid either.
Would she slap him? Or just burn his ears with what she thought of him? If she did either, he'd quietly go away and that would be the end of it. He didn't think he had a snowball's chance in hell of being accepted. Sometimes a man could be pretty damn stupid.
When she walked back to him and set his filled cup in front of him, Mace held his breath and reached for her. His callused hand slid up her arm, beneath the sleeve of her robe. He wasn't surprised at the texture of her skin. It was soft as warm silk, the color of light honey where the sun reached and fresh cream where it didn't. He grew painfully hard.
>
Talley froze beneath his touch, her hand on his cup. His fingers played along her skin. The blood pounded in his temples and he snatched his hand back. What a stupid, stupid thing to do! He wasn't prepared for the guilt that washed over him like spring rain.
A hot flush of embarrassment had colored his face when she looked at him. “Mace?”
He shook his head, afraid he might choke on his own stupidity if he tried to speak.
“I'm seeing Mitch,” she whispered.
As if he didn't know. As if it wasn't a thorn in his side, a thousand thorns covering every inch of his body. His skin had felt all prickly and itchy and—
He nodded. “I know,” he croaked and cleared his throat. He felt like some awkward kid asking a girl out for the first time. He thought of Mary Louise Johnson, whom he'd had a crush on when he was fifteen. She’d turned him down flat. Mary Louise was still in Randolph, married with kids and grandbabies, and Mace was still embarrassed whenever he saw her.
“Mace.” Talley's hand was warm against his cheek, but he nearly jumped out of his prickly skin. He almost wished she had slapped him. He couldn't believe she wasn't going to kick up a fuss. He couldn't believe her thumb was trailing over his lips. He couldn't believe she was making a pass back at him.
Before either of them could come to their senses, Mace put his hands on her hips and pulled her close, between his legs. He might get a kiss before she saw reason. He throbbed hard where her legs touched him, and his jeans were too damn tight for comfort.
His mouth reached just below her breasts and his face was lost in the white cotton fabric as he slid his arms around and crushed her to him.
Both of her hands tangled in his damp hair as she tugged on him to lift his face. She bent hers close and when her lips touched his, Mace thought he must still be on the couch dreaming the sweetest of dreams. Or he'd died and gone to heaven.
Her arms folded around him and the kiss became a desperate, hungry outpouring of physical longing for both of them. He kissed her hard and long, then trailed his lips down the side of her neck to her breasts and the hardened nipples protruding through the thin white cotton. She tilted back and he suckled one gently, then the other, and her small moans of pleasure were the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard.
