Addicted to You

by Bethany Kane

  “Katie Hughes.”

  “What can I get you, Miles?” Sherona asked, her tone brisk, but polite enough. Miles Fordham didn’t look like the type that a business owner would choose to insult. Sherona sure didn’t seem to be too in love with the guy, though, Katie observed.

  Fordham glanced down at Katie’s plate. His gaze transferred quickly enough to her body, however. Katie did a mental eye roll as he cased her out from boot to eyelash. “I’ll have what Katie had. She looks like she enjoyed it, and whatever it was, it sure is sitting well on her. May I ask what brings you to our quaint little town, Katie?”

  “Rill Pierce,” she replied matter-of-factly after she’d washed down her onion ring with a swallow of her milk shake.

  Saying Rill’s name caused a wave of regret and mortification to sweep through her. For a few seconds, the memory of what had happened up at the Mitchell place seemed too bizarre to be a reality. The trip into town, the unfamiliar environment and the strange people had the effect of turning her earlier visit to Rill’s into a dream.

  The tenderness between her thighs told her different. She dug in her purse and pulled out a scarf, which she defiantly wrapped around herself, hiding her breasts from Miles’s gaze.

  She held up ten- and five-dollar bills. “Will that cover it, Sherona?”

  “Just the ten’ll do. I’ll get your change,” Sherona replied.

  “Don’t bother,” Katie said as she laid the bills on the counter. “It was worth every penny. Well . . . be seeing you.”

  “Wait. You’re not going so quickly, are you?” Miles asked with a laugh. “I haven’t had the chance to ask you to the club while you’re visiting Vulture’s Canyon.”

  “Club?” Katie asked as she got off the barstool.

  “The Forest River Golf Club and Marina. It’s right on the Ohio River. I’ve been trying to get Rill to stop by for ages now.”

  “Rill hates golf,” Katie said with a smile as she passed. “He’s more the rugby or American football type.”

  Miles turned and started to follow her to the door. Tenacious bastard, Katie thought with a trace of exasperation. He was a nice-looking guy, but Katie’s head was too filled with Rill at that moment—Rill slowly poisoning himself to death with whiskey; Rill touching her, kissing her . . . claiming her. She couldn’t attend to another man’s advances at the moment.

  “The Forest River Club is about much more than golf. The Shawnee National Forest is truly God’s country. We have a worldclass restaurant, the marina, areas for rock climbing, camping and rappelling, plus some stunning trails, both for hiking and horseback riding.”

  Katie was about to tell him to send her a brochure when he continued.

  “We’re right on the verge of getting a gambling license from the State of Illinois for a boat on the Ohio River.”

  Monty slapped his paper down on the table in front of him so hard Katie thought he’d swatted at a fly.

  “Marcus . . . calm down,” Sherona warned in a low voice from behind the counter when the muscular guy wearing the camo pants suddenly stormed toward them. For an anxious second, Katie thought he was going to eviscerate Miles Fordham with some kind of bowie knife secreted in his pants, the way he was glaring at him. She exhaled shakily when Marcus stormed out of the diner instead, loudly rattling the bells over the door with his departure.

  Lovely choice of town, Rill, she thought.

  Obviously, the prospect of a casino on the Ohio River near Vulture’s Canyon wasn’t a popular topic for some residents.

  Not any of my business, Katie thought. She gave a ruffledlooking Miles a look that was half apologetic, half “well, that’s my cue to be on my way.”

  “I better get back to Rill. He’ll wonder what’s keeping me. Nice meeting you all,” Katie said before she dashed out the door.

  She plunged into the humid night. When she’d driven down the hill from Rill’s place, she’d grown used to the darkness. But coming out of the bright diner onto a street that was lit only by two distant, dim streetlights made her blink in slight disorientation.

  She didn’t glance back at the diner as she started up her car and whipped around in a U-turn, but she had the impression she was being watched through the windows.

  She hit something just in front of her right-hand wheel.

  Thunk.

  Katie yelped and broke hard when she caught sight of Errol’s pale face going down in her headlights.

  Three

  At eleven fifteen the following morning Rill awoke to the im-pression his cell phone ringer was burrowing like a twisting screw through his right temple. It made no sense, of course, because a sound couldn’t possibly pierce skin and bone. It sure as hell felt like it could, though. After a blessed moment of silence it began to burble again.

  He didn’t have Internet up here on this remote hillside, but if he did, he’d download a funeral dirge to replace that frickin’ cheerful ringtone.

  He poked his hand around on the bedside table, trying to locate the obnoxious object. His arm was cocked back to hurl the phone against the wall when he blinked and brought the name of the caller into focus.

  He hit the receive button.

  “Katie?” he demanded roughly. The inside of his mouth felt like he’d gargled with ooze from a toxic spill.

  “Rill! It’s about time you answered the phone. You’ve got to get down here right away.”

  He sat up in bed, alarmed. Katie Hughes didn’t get riled easily. “What do you mean I’ve got to get down there? Down where? What’s wrong?”

  “You’ve got to come down here to the hospital.”

  “Jaysus. The hospital? Who’s hurt?” Rill demanded, now fully alert. Katie sounded okay. Who could be sick? Everett? Stanley or Meg Hughes, Katie’s parents? Had there been an accident?

  “It’s Errol. I hit him with my car. Several ligaments in his right knee were torn or strained.”

  Rill swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned when a wave of nausea struck him. Christ, just how shit-faced had he gotten last night? He fuzzily recalled watching a movie on one of the local networks last night—What had it been? The Shining? He recalled a crazed Jack Nicholson saying his famous line—“Here’s Johnny”—but everything was black after that.

  And what the hell was Katie talking about?

  “Who’s Errol?”

  “Errol Banks. The guy who carries around the model airplanes and lives in a shack down by the river?”

  Rill’s eyes crossed. For some reason, Katie Hughes, who was one of his closet friends from his life in California, was talking about Errol, a resident of his new life—such as it was—in Vulture’s Canyon.

  Errol was the mentally disabled guy who wandered around rambling about airplanes.

  Rill must still be drunk.

  “Where are you, Katie?”

  “At Prairie Lakes Hospital.”

  He abruptly stopped rubbing his burning eyes. “Prairie Lakes . . . Illinois?”

  “Yes, I’m here, just a few miles away.”

  “What do you mean, you’re here?” Rill barked.

  “I’m here. In southern Illinois,” she said slowly and loudly, as if she thought she was talking to a hyperactive three-year-old. “I drove here to see you. And I hit Errol Banks on Main Street in downtown Vulture’s Canyon and injured him. They had to do outpatient surgery on his knee early this morning. You’ve got to get down here right away, Rill. Errol has been cleared to go, but I have to pay for his treatment, so bring your checkbook. They won’t take a credit card from me, and apparently the one ATM in the hospital is busted. I can’t find another one in this little town. I’ve got to pay the bill before they let us go and I don’t have enough cash or a checkbook.”

  Rill stood, scowling when he realized he wasn’t wearing any pants.

  Jaysus. Katie Hughes. Everett’s little sister. Gorgeous, smartmouthed, vibrant Katie.

  Katie in a crisis.

  It was like inviting a cache of fresh dynamite into a slow
ly burning house.

  Just what he needed right now.

  “Okay. Okay, I’m coming,” he mumbled. He staggered into the hallway, not entirely sure if he was awake or sleeping. The nailing pain in his right brow seemed too real to be a dream, however. “But, Katie?”

  “Yeah?” He heard the tremble in her voice and pulled up short in the middle of the hallway.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Why the hell else would I be in this godforsaken place, Rill Pierce? I came to save you.”

  There was a short pause. He heard her sigh and suddenly saw her clear as day in his mind’s eye, the vivid green eyes, the wild tumble of golden ringlets and waves. He’d directed Katie’s brother, Everett Hughes, in six of his films. It’d always fascinated him how Everett and Katie shared a face, and yet the impressions of the two were polar opposites. Everett epitomized male good looks, while similar features on Katie comprised the essence of vibrant feminine beauty.

  In Everett, Rill had found that rare combination in an actor; he was respected by other men and adored by women.

  A sickly worm of suspicion wriggled around in Rill’s gut when he considered Everett. He quickly tried to dismiss the sensation.

  Of course Eden had never lusted after Everett Hughes. Everett was his best friend, for fuck’s sake. Or had been, before Rill took a sabbatical in these woods, a sabbatical that may end up lasting for the rest of his life.

  His head swam. Nausea swept through him.

  He needed to focus on the moment. Katie Hughes was on the phone, and she needed help. That was all there was to consider.

  He struggled to bring Katie’s image back into his mind’s eye.

  Katie and Everett may have represented polar opposites on the spectrum of male and female beauty, but Katie’s delicate features were often cast in an expression of pure stubbornness, just like Everett’s. Katie didn’t sound too sassy through his phone receiver, though. No, she sounded beat.

  He resisted an urge to blurt out that she was a little fool. No one in her right mind would choose to be in his company. But now wasn’t the time to chastise her for barging in on his misery. Whether he wanted her there or not, he would never leave Katie hanging in a pinch.

  “Are you okay, Katie?”

  “I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”

  “All right. Give me forty minutes.”

  “Thanks, Rill,” she said before the line went dead.

  Rill stood there in the bathroom staring at his cell phone for several seconds. A shiver of unease had coursed down his spine when he’d heard his name on Katie’s tongue.

  “What in the hell did you do to your hair?” Rill accused by way of greeting.

  Katie spun around from where she’d been reading about the rules of sanitary hand-washing on the hospital waiting room bulletin board. She stared at Rill for two heartbeats . . . three.

  His hair looked strange and yet right at once. Several years back he’d shocked them all—his wife, Eden, most notably—by shaving his head. But Rill had just laughed at their surprise. What was hair to a man like Rill Pierce? Better off without the crap. Pain in my ass, Katie recalled him saying with a wicked grin.

  He had a mess of dark hair, but the strands were finer than she’d remembered. It’d felt dense yet silky when she ran her fingers through it last night. That thick crop of lustrous hair contrasted markedly with his bold male features and insouciance in regard to his appearance.

  No wonder he’d shaved it off. He probably resented any suggestion from the magazines and tabloids that he even remotely resembled a Hollywood pretty boy.

  He’d cut himself while shaving and stuck a tiny square of tissue on his right cheek to staunch the blood. For some stupid reason, the sight made tears well up in her eyes. She ducked her head and picked up a curl that hung to her waist, flicking at it impatiently. “It’s just a temporary color rinse. I wanted something different, so I darkened it. It’s already fading.”

  “I don’t like it at all.”

  “Don’t hold back, Rill.”

  He returned her scowl. His brows drew together slowly, and she wondered if the emotional upwelling she experienced showed on her face. He beckoned with his hands.

  Katie flew into his arms.

  “Hey, Shine. It’s not so bad, is it?” he crooned from above her, his voice gruff and lyrical. Katie was five foot four on the days where she could hold her head up high, which hadn’t been very often, in recent history, anyway. Her cheek pressed just below Rill’s nipple line. He felt good—hard and male. He smelled even better, like soap and clean male skin. Hearing him call her “Shine” had caused a fresh wave of misery to surge through her. It’d been his pet name for her since she was a teenager, a shortened version of “sunshine.” When she’d reached her senior year in high school, he’d shortened it to “Shine,” explaining soberly that she’d outstripped the light of a single sun.

  He’d teased her a few times since, saying he could never put her in one of his films because his lighting director would never let him rest for ruining everything he’d ever learned about his profession.

  Full of it, that was what Rill Pierce was. But in the sweetest kind of way.

  “Hey,” he murmured.

  She leaned back when he placed his hand at the side of her head. When she looked up at him, Katie abruptly became aware of how blue his eyes were, how thick his lashes were . . . how her belly pressed against the fullness between his thighs. Everett, Eden, Rill and Katie had been friends for years now. She’d hugged Rill countless times. She’d never had cause to feel ashamed hugging him before.

  She stepped back now.

  “You said Errol’s knee was injured. Is that all?” he asked.

  Katie nodded and furtively wiped at an errant tear. “Yeah. They did outpatient surgery on it this morning to fix a torn ACL. The doctor said he would be fine, but he has to take some anti-inflammatory medicine and use a passive motion machine every day. He’ll start outpatient rehabilitation in a week or so.”

  “It could have been a lot worse.” He seemed uncertain when another tear spilled down her cheek. “What is it, Katie?”

  She bristled at the sound of him saying her name. Ka-tie.

  “Have you ever hit a man with your car before?”

  “Can’t say I have. Hit a bull when I was filming Pamplona, though. Ruddy thing did more damage to the truck than we did to it.”

  Katie laughed, even though she was feeling far from mirthful. “Well, it’s awful. I might have killed him. And Errol’s so . . . He’s so . . . like a . . .”

  “Like a child.”

  “Yeah,” Katie whispered. She met Rill’s eyes. “He’d run back to his house to get more model planes. He wanted to show me. It was so dark on that street after I left the diner. I never saw him until I’d hit him.”

  “It could have happened to anyone. Vulture’s Canyon becomes a dead man’s land at night. And Errol acts on impulse. He should have known better than to run in front of a moving car.”

  Katie sighed. “Well, it’s done. I’ll have to pay for his hospital stay and his rehab. He doesn’t have any insurance. He doesn’t have a car, either. I’ll have to drive him to all his appointments,” she added, not realizing the truth of her words until that moment.

  “I’ll be driving him.”

  Katie glanced up in surprise at Rill’s resolute tone. “Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t hit him.”

  “That may be, but Errol will likely require rehab for weeks on end. There’s no way you’re staying in Vulture’s Canyon that whole time.”

  Katie straightened to her full height. “Who says?”

  “I do.” He seemed to reconsider his bluntness. “I can imagine Morgan and Watkins might have a say in the matter as well.”

  “I’ve taken a vacation from Morgan and Watkins,” Katie said, referring to her former employer, a large law firm that did taxes for the rich and famous.

  “You took a vacation and came to Vulture’s Canyon?” Rill a
sked incredulously.

  “I told you I did.”

  “That’s just stupid.”

  Anger rose from her belly to her brain like mercury in a thermometer stuck in boiling water. “Don’t you call me stupid. I’d say what you’re doing these days is way off the idiocy scale, so I guess you can put up with me for what’s left of your miserable life.”

  Katie paused when she saw how the color left his face, but she didn’t relent. Suddenly, the idea of this beautiful, talented man wasting his life felt like a personal affront, like a slap to the face. It surprised her a little to realize she shook with emotion. Or perhaps it was some culmination of the bizarre events of the past fifteen hours and a sleep-deprived brain that was finally getting to her.

  “You’re not going to chase me off like you did Everett, Rill,” she said in a quiet, vibrating voice.

  His lips flattened in irritation. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Katie. You haven’t seen how I live.”

  She swallowed convulsively. There it was: proof positive that he definitely had been too drunk to recall her being at his house last night, let alone remember what they’d done. A feeling of mixed relief and sadness swooped through her.

  She stepped toward him and tilted her chin up, meeting his glare. “You call what you’ve been doing the past eighteen months living? We both know you’re flirting with the opposite, Rill. It’s gonna stop here and now, too.”

  “Oh, yeah?” he asked belligerently. “How do you know that?”

  “Because Eden would be ashamed of you. I figure you just need someone to remind you of that.”

  His eyes flashed in fury at the mention of Eden’s name; his jaw clamped tight. Katie recoiled slightly in her own skin, the evidence of his hurt paining her, as well. She stepped back.

  “Did you bring your checkbook or not? I’ll pay you the cash I have and drive into Carbondale tomorrow to get the rest. Errol’s itching to get back to his house, and I sure could use some sleep.”

  His right eyelid flickered, indicating that while Katie might be willing to dust off her hands and move on from her little outburst, Rill was still angry.