Fast Burn

by Lori Foster

  Justice had obviously called ahead because the crew had congregated to greet them. Miles already had an ice pack ready, and his fiancée, Maxi, led Sahara directly to a full lounge chair where she and Catalina, Leese’s wife, insisted she sit.

  Good luck with that, Brand wanted to say. He’d be willing to bet Sahara wouldn’t stay down for more than a minute or two. The woman didn’t understand her own lack of strength.

  Catalina served Sahara a tall, cool drink. Together, the women huddled around her. They were a mix of styles, with Catalina’s long light brown hair, blue eyes and casual flair for sloppy comfort, Fallon’s shoulder-length dark hair and darker eyes with more tailored clothes, and Maxi’s long blond hair and cutting-edge fashion.

  And then there was Sahara, different from each of them, a self-proclaimed shark—who at the moment appeared overwhelmed.

  Brand noticed the slightly dumbfounded expression on her face, and found his first smile. To Leese, he asked, “Was this your idea?”

  Leese nodded in satisfaction. “I might’ve given the women a nudge, but you know how they are. It didn’t take much.”

  “Nurturing,” Miles said. “Every one of them.”

  All but Sahara. She was a caring person, but she wasn’t much of a coddler.

  He wondered how she’d be with kids. He recalled the assignment she’d had early on protecting the little girl. She’d kill for a child, no problem, and he knew she’d raise a daughter or son to be strong and independent. That was a lot, whether she was into kissing boo-boos or not.

  “She’ll tell any one of us to back off,” Leese said, “but she tries to be nicer to the ladies.”

  Justice laughed. “I hadn’t noticed that before, but you’re right. Look at her taking aspirin from Fallon! If I tried that, she’d tell me to take them.”

  “Or ask you, in a very condescending voice, if you’d managed to hurt yourself,” Miles said.

  Brand watched her, how carefully she reacted with the women, how stoic she was about her injury, and he knew he couldn’t fight the inevitable.

  He was in love.

  It didn’t surprise him; Sahara had been stealing his heart little by little ever since he’d met her.

  The big question was what to do about it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SAHARA FELT...NUMB. If the guys were trying to pin her down, she’d have already, gleefully, rebelled.

  But it was the women, and she liked them all so much that she didn’t want to inadvertently offend any of them by telling them to buzz off.

  So while Brand and the other men were rapidly building a beautiful gazebo, she sat there like a useless lump in the lounge chair, cats all around her, an ice pack on her head, her drink constantly refilled, even a cushion under her feet...until she couldn’t take it a second longer.

  It was almost laughable that when she sat up and tossed aside the ice, all three women jumped toward her.

  “Please,” she said with a grin, “relax. You’re scaring the cats.” When Maxi inherited the farm, it came with dozens of feral cats, most of them not so wild anymore. Sahara hadn’t been in the chair long before three of them had decided she’d make a comfortable place to snooze.

  Of course, each of the other women also petted the felines. Maxi and Miles had gotten the animals spayed or neutered, vaccinated, and they were fed twice a day.

  “You shouldn’t be up,” Fallon warned.

  Sahara laughed. “Of course I should. I’m not great with idle time.”

  “But you’re hurt,” Catalina said.

  “Not really. Just a bump.” She stood and looked at each of them. A gentle breeze stirred the colorful leaves in the trees, prompting several to twirl gracefully to the ground. She loved fall.

  She didn’t love being treating like an invalid.

  “I appreciate the concern, I really do. I hesitated to say that you’re overdoing the mollycoddling because I didn’t want to sound unappreciative or something. Then I realized that just because you’re women doesn’t mean you’re fainthearted. It doesn’t mean your feelings are fragile, right? After all, you’re strong women.” She thrust up a fist in a sign of unity. “And as strong women, you know that being female doesn’t make us more delicate than men.”

  “Actually,” Fallon said, “I’m definitely more delicate than Justice.”

  Catalina snorted. “An elephant is more delicate than him.”

  Maxi laughed when Fallon swatted at Cat.

  “But you’re still just as strong,” Sahara insisted.

  “As Justice?” Fallon quirked a brow. “Not likely.”

  “She means emotionally,” Maxi said. “And in theory, I agree. But when I was having all my trouble here at the farm, it was awfully nice to lean on Miles.”

  “And I’m sure he’s leaned on you, too.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. Most times he’s so confident that he focuses more on protecting than any ‘leaning.’”

  Hmm. Sahara gave that some thought and realized that Brand was the same. He wanted her to lean on him, to let him protect her and care for her, but despite all the turmoil with Becky, he didn’t reciprocate. He needed to talk to her about his feelings so she could show that she understood. Maybe once he did that, he’d understand her equal need to help, and then she could tell him the different ways she was trying to make Becky less of a burden.

  Seeing that the women weren’t understanding, Sahara sighed, then propped her hands on her hips. “My point is that I’m fine, and I want to think you’re all grounded enough that you won’t be offended when I say enough is enough.”

  They each watched her with varying degrees of concern.

  It was so ridiculous, she almost laughed. “I’m going to give Brand hell, because if we’d stopped to get food and drinks, we might have missed those morons who tried to run us off the road.” She’d already explained every detail of the attack to the women. They’d been duly horrified.

  “Food and drinks for what?” Maxi asked.

  “Here.” When Maxi gave her a blank look, Sahara explained, “I didn’t want to come empty-handed. I know that’s rude, but Brand wouldn’t stop.”

  “Oh please, you’re invited guests! Besides, good friends are welcome anytime, no gifts needed.”

  Good friends. Struck by that possibility, Sahara asked, “You mean Brand?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. And you.”

  Catalina chimed in. “I know you’re the boss and everything, but you’re still one of us.”

  “A significant other, she means,” Fallon said.

  Was she a significant other? “Brand said we’re in a relationship.”

  “Duh,” Catalina said. “Was that in question?”

  “Justice said he’s never seen Brand act like he does with you.”

  Maxi nodded. “Miles says that usually he’s pretty distant with women. I mean, not physically distant, but it’s different with you. You two seem close.”

  “Connected,” Fallon added.

  Only a minute before, Sahara had been determined to join the men in building the gazebo. She’d wanted to hammer something, damn it. She’d wanted to prove she was strong and capable, not a woman who wilted over a bump.

  Now, though, she decided she’d rather stay right where she was, chatting with the women. The conversation proved insightful. She’d love to hear more about how Brand was different with her from how he was with other women.

  Mind made up, she reseated herself in the lounge chair, and even put her feet back on the cushion.

  The cats took that as an invitation and curled up against her again, one on her lap, one against her hip, one by her knees.

  It turned into a very enjoyable afternoon, different for sure, given the lazy way she sat around talking, but still very fun. She couldn’t imagine a prettier setting. Even being overrun with cats, multi
ple birds flitted in and out of the trees. The day remained mild, sunny, with just enough of a breeze to tease over her skin.

  Watching Brand work was never a hardship. She loved seeing the muscles in his back flex, how his biceps bulged, how those delicious abs tightened. Unlike the other guys, who sometimes got scruffy but eventually shaved, Brand sported the short, trimmed beard and mustache. Sahara found she liked the rugged look.

  She especially liked the way his stubble tickled her skin when he kissed her in various sensitive places.

  She had to admit, she had some serious hunks working for her. Each one of them was gorgeous in their own way, but in her opinion, Brand was by far the handsomest.

  Around noon, the men came up to the house for food. While they washed up, Catalina grilled hamburgers and hotdogs, and Fallon and Maxi carried out trays of side dishes and drinks. Sahara was about to help with that when a message dinged on her phone.

  Brand stood nearby guzzling water—shirtless. But then, all the guys were shirtless now. Most were barefoot, too, since part of the work on the gazebo required standing in the pond.

  Brand looked her way as she got out her phone.

  Given the stark expression on his face, she wasn’t the only one concerned that it could be another anonymous text.

  She unlocked her phone...and saw a photo from Becky. Brand’s mother sat on her new love seat, and she looked so happy that Sahara was filled with pride.

  “What the hell?”

  She jumped when Brand took the phone from her limp hand. He had approached so silently, she hadn’t been aware of him looking over her shoulder, and now dread filled her.

  Trying not to appear as guilty as she felt, she said, “It’s Becky. Look at her smile. I think her attitude is improving.”

  For far too long, Brand studied the photo in foreboding silence. Finally, his expression cold, he said, “I take it this was your doing?”

  She barely resisted the urge to wince. “Which part?”

  “All of it.” His jaw clenched as he stared down at her. “The hairdo, makeup...the couch.”

  Oh, this wasn’t going well at all. She swallowed down her unease and tried for a bright tone. “Well, I did lend her a stylist so she could refresh her appearance after her long illness. It always makes a woman feel better to look her best.”

  No reply.

  Normally she could outwait the best of them, but this was Brand, and the guilt was coming on strong and fast. She glanced around and saw that everyone had clustered near the long picnic table piled with food—including the horde of cats.

  Keeping her voice low, she said, “I wanted to help.”

  There was no understanding in his tone when he said, “I asked you not to get involved.”

  No, he’d flat-out told her not to, thus the guilt. “You said I couldn’t take her shopping, so I didn’t.”

  “Don’t play with my words.”

  Worse and worse. “All right.”

  “She’s not in the hospital bed.” He glanced at the phone, then gestured with it. “She’s on some froufrou love seat thing.”

  Sahara would have been offended by that description, but it was rather froufrou with the floral pattern and overstuffed cushions. “I, um...” Why was it so hard to say? Sahara stiffened her spine. “I bought it for her. I figured if I could get her out of the bed—”

  “It wasn’t your job to get her out of bed.”

  He didn’t raise his voice, but she felt bludgeoned by his quiet anger all the same.

  “Not my job, no, but I—”

  “Anything else?” He continued to study the picture. “The clothes she’s wearing?”

  “I sent those to her...” Probably best to come clean, she decided. “Five outfits in all, I believe, more if she mixes and matches them.”

  When his icy gaze finally came to her, he zeroed in on her bandaged head and his mouth flattened.

  He was too subdued for the anger she knew he had to feel, the anger she could see. Suddenly it hit her why.

  Slowly she stood. Guilty or not, she wouldn’t let him treat her like a wilting flower. “Oh no, you don’t. Don’t hold back just because I got a bump on the head. I keep telling you I’m fine.” She held out her arms. “If you want to blast me for overstepping, have at it. I won’t break.”

  A strange, turbulent emotion narrowed his dark eyes.

  He looked so explosive that she quickly added, “My only request is that you do so in private.”

  After a long, silent moment, he smirked. “Because you’re the boss and you don’t want your underlings to see you catching hell?”

  Damn, he made her feel small. She lifted her chin. “Actually, because they’re friends. At least I think they are. The ladies said we were, so I assumed—”

  He laughed, but it wasn’t a nice sound.

  Before she’d met Brand, she seldom suffered uncertainty or angst over a decision. She’d always pushed forward with confidence.

  Now, though, it seemed those unfamiliar feelings leveled her on a regular basis.

  Yes, she had done things he’d asked her not to but it had felt right at the time because she knew, in the long run, it would help him.

  Because she liked to face things head-on, Sahara released a slow breath and admitted softly, “Every time I turn around, I find myself in another impossible position with you.”

  Maybe it was the resignation in her tone, but Brand’s gaze sharpened on her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  She rolled one shoulder. “I wanted you to work for me, and I also wanted to date you. Big conflict, right?”

  “You understand my position on that.”

  Yes—he thought she was too bossy, especially when he preferred to be the boss. “Then there’s Ross Moran.”

  “He sent his buddies after you again today.”

  “I know.” She was eternally grateful that they hadn’t gotten to her, and that Brand hadn’t been hurt. “But I still need to talk to him to get info on my brother, and you just want to annihilate him.”

  Agitated, Brand folded his arms. “He’s still breathing, isn’t he? I can show restraint when necessary.”

  She picked up a cat, holding it in her arms like a baby, taking comfort from its rumbling purr. “Now this.” Her head started to pound but she didn’t think it had anything to do with hitting the windshield, not when her chest also felt tight, and her throat was getting thick.

  If she didn’t know better, she might have thought she was choked up.

  She kissed the cat’s head, nuzzling the soft fur. “You won’t give me a chance to explain, but I was trying to help with your mother.”

  “I told you to stay out of it.”

  “I know.” It bothered her that she’d upset him. “The thing is, I’m not good at staying out of situations, especially not if I think I can help.” She looked up at him, owning her flaws, admitting the truth. “I’m the type of person who is going to dive in. That’s just me, Brand.” And it would probably be one more thing he disliked. “I’m sorry.”

  He ran a hand over the back of his neck, checked that no one was close, then pinned her with a heated stare. “As long as my mother remains sour and difficult, I can resent helping her. But if she starts showing appreciation, then I’m going to feel like an ass for being so surly about it.”

  Her eyes widened. “You want to resent her?”

  “After a lifetime, it’s what I’m used to.” He looked away. “And she doesn’t deserve anything more.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” But Brand did. Softening her voice in deference to his mood, Sahara said, “I wasn’t thinking about her when I decided to—”

  “Interfere?”

  Helpless to deny that, she shrugged. “Yes.”

  Hindsight was a bitch, but seeing things from Brand’s perspective, Sahara had to adm
it that she’d badly miscalculated. She didn’t blame him for being angry.

  She again said, “I’m sorry.” Truthfully, she didn’t think she was a bad person, but maybe she had to do more introspection. She would better accomplish that on her own, away from outside influences.

  Away from Brand.

  She was just about to explain that to him when her phone dinged again.

  Brand glanced at it and one brow climbed high. “Your anonymous tipster this time.”

  She squeezed into his side so she could read the message as well.

  Don’t go out alone. It’s not safe. Trust no one.

  * * *

  “CRYPTIC BASTARD,” BRAND GROWLED.

  Sahara glared up at him. “That’s probably my brother.”

  He didn’t care if it was the pope. Sahara deserved a direct reply, not all this cat and mouse bullshit where neither of them knew what to think.

  It enraged him when he thought of the danger surrounding her. She’d been kidnapped by a goon bold enough to approach her at an exclusive party, had shots fired near her and been nearly run off the road.

  Brand had a feeling the danger was ramping up rather than receding, and it left him helpless to ensure her safety, especially when she appeared so cavalier about it.

  That alone made him more disgruntled than usual, but add to that the text from his mother...

  Sahara had made Becky smile.

  How long had it been since he’d seen his mother happy? Probably...never.

  Over the years, whenever she’d come by, it hadn’t been to visit him but to squeeze money out of Ann. Most times, she barely noticed her son, and when she did notice him, it wasn’t to share a soft word of affection or to show any caring. Not once had she given even a hint of regret for letting him go.

  She’d seen him only as a tool she could use to her own advantage.

  In fact, she’d never sought him out until her cardiac arrest. Then, with no one else that she could turn to, she’d suddenly remembered that she had a son.

  He didn’t like being bitter; it made him feel like the sulky, hurt kid he’d once been, yet he couldn’t stop the corrosive resentment from eating away at him like acid.