"Well…yeah."
Brows lifted. "You want me to act all clingy and demanding?"
"Well, no, but…it's just confusing."
"Joe." She glanced behind her to make sure Seth wasn't there, then said quietly, "The other night was amazing. But I'm a big girl. I don't play the game unless I understand, and can live with, the rules." Underneath her crisp white shirt, her shoulders hitched. "What else is there to say? So," she said, her voice higher, brighter, "how's the Double Arrow coming along?"
"I don't want to talk about that," he growled.
"Uh, yeah. You do." She nodded behind her to indicate she heard Seth coming, then shoved her hair out of her face, exactly the way she had when she'd straddled him, that last time, her breasts silvered in the moonlight stealing across the bed, her nipples glistening from his mouth. A shudder streaked through his blood, settling right smack in his groin. "And there's not much point in discussing the other, is there?"
No, there wasn't. Not if either of them was even remotely interested in being logical. If he were being logical, he'd chalked this up to a cross between infatuation and lust. Except he and lust had more than a nodding acquaintance, it seemed to him, at least enough to know that the overwhelming tenderness, the pure joy, that had swamped him when she'd fallen apart in his arms—each and every time—had never been part of the deal before. Yeah, he wanted her naked again so badly he could hardly think straight, but he also wanted the laughter and the sighs and the smiles and the holding each other afterwards, the precious silence filled with something so damn good he couldn't even define it.
The feeling of sanctuary when he was with her.
Even if that feeling was something he could ill afford.
Seth appeared, slapping back the screen door and grinning for him, driving home at least some of the reasons why Joe should be grateful Taylor wasn't demanding a single thing of him.
"The Arrow's coming along good," he said, hooking one thumb in his belt loop. "Just putting the finishing touches on the cabins, then the demolition crew's coming on Monday to start gutting the old motel."
"And the project in Tulsa?" she said, sliding one arm across his brother's chest. Joe's eyes slipped to her hand, to those slender, long-nailed fingers he could still feel soothing his skin, inflaming it, before his gaze slid back up to her face.
"Found a new framer, so we're back in business."
"Oh, good." She smiled, hugged Seth and sent him off to the car. And Joe just stood there, his entire body tightening when Taylor's eyes edged to his. Never in his life had he wanted to give more to a person than he did her; never in his life had he felt he had so little to give. His mouth fell open: he should say something, anything, only God knew what that would be. "Taylor—"
"Go on, Seth's waiting for you," she said quietly, opening the screen door and disappearing inside.
* * *
She stood at the door, watching Joe stride back to the car, her heart aching at the burden of pride so precariously balanced on those broad shoulders, the male arrogance propelling those long legs away from her. It wasn't until the Blazer was out of sight, though, that she let go of the breath she'd been holding.
The past five days had been a bitch and a half.
Patting her leg for Oak to follow her and keep her company, she wandered into the kitchen to drag out a frozen dinner from the freezer, even though she felt as much like eating right now as she did lassoing skunks. Playing cool had that effect on her. But no way was she going to complicate things more than they already were by giving her emotions their head, or let on that it was killing her not to touch him, how every night when he dragged himself up onto her porch, looking beat, it had taken everything she had not to wrap her arms around him. No way was she going to let on that just thinking about that night set assorted places on her body to tingling so badly she half expected them to catch fire, significant if for no other reason than her body parts were not prone to tingling for just any old person who happened to cross her path.
And no way was she going to let herself think that what had just happened indicated a weakening on Joe's part. Not in any substantial way, at least. Oh, if his hormones put up a big enough stink, he might figure out how to carve another hour or two out of his life to be with her. And she wouldn't fight it. She wagered ninety-nine percent of the world's women never had a man make love to them the way Joe had her, and for sure she wasn't enough of a fool to turn down the opportunity to repeat the experience, should the occasion present itself. But she was long since past believing a woman could will, or nag, a man into changing. And even longer past thinking she had the energy to try.
A fingernail gave way as she ripped open the box to the frozen dinner and yanked it out. She folded back the little corner, plonked the dinner into the microwave, shut the door and set the timer before she realized she had no idea what was in the tray.
And if that wasn't a sad comment on her life, she didn't know what was.
Scouring her brain for what scraps of pride she had left, she tramped back into her bedroom to file down the broken nail, before gathering up two weeks' worth of clothes to wash. Oh, no…no way was she gonna force the issue. She didn't want to be one more thing for Joe to worry about.
Which had nothing to do with how much she worried about him.
Grumbling, Taylor batted back the clothes hanging in the closet to get to a stray pair of shorts somebody had flung into the far corner, only to run smack into the stupid blue dress. She blew her hair out of her face and glowered at the thing. Then she yanked it off the rack, hauling it out of the closet like an errant child and planting herself in front of the cheval mirror in the corner, molding the glittery fabric to her body as if to say, And what do you have to say for yourself?
And what the dress said was, Hey. Nobody told you to buy me.
Just as nobody had told her to fall in love with Joe Salazar.
Except, as she dimly recalled, the last time she'd been in love, she'd felt relatively happy about it. This time, if felt more like a chronic case of menstrual cramps.
On top of the flu.
Taylor tossed the dress on the bed, grabbed her laundry basket and stomped back to the little utility porch off the kitchen. Once she'd stuffed a load of whites into the washer, she pulled her dinner out of the microwave. Salisbury steak, as it happened. Her mouth scrunched up, she peeled off the top, took one sniff and set it on the floor for the dog, who gobbled it down in two point five seconds and was clearly thrilled.
"At least one of us is," Taylor muttered. Then her gaze swung over to the phone. Where it hovered, waiting for her brain, then her hand, to catch up. She plucked it off its stand and punched her mother's auto-dial number.
"You've reached the McIntyre residence. Please leave a number after the tone."
Not that Taylor had expected anything else, but still.
"Hi, Mom, it's me, Taylor. Everything's fine, just called to check in. I'll…talk to you later."
With a sigh, she dropped the phone back in the stand. Five seconds later, she was scarfing down what was left of the chocolates (after unearthing the almost empty box from where she'd hidden it from herself), while Oakley rattled the empty plastic dinner tray from one side of the kitchen to the other.
* * *
The next afternoon, Joe stood in the center of the living room in one of the new cabins, hands on hips, feeling pretty doggone pleased, overall. Even though it was a real scorcher outside, cool air hummed through the vents as speckled sunlight danced over the plank flooring. It had been Jenna's idea to partially furnish the new cabins with pieces from estate sales and such, which gave the place a much homier feel than one usually encountered in your average resort. Cherise, Hank's head of housekeeping, had just left after personally making up the beds for Joe's mother and sister (leaving behind a healthy dose of her perfume), and Blair had filled a bunch of vases with wildflowers—whites and yellows and deep purples and oranges—which she'd set here and there around the cabin.
Yeah, Joe thought on a rush of pride, it all looked real inviting. Peaceful. Hank'd do real well with the place, he imagined, only to frown as the oddest sensation settled into pit of his stomach. If he didn't know better, he'd peg the feeling as almost proprietary. Of all the projects Joe'd worked on over the years, he'd never become personally attached to any of them. When they were done, he'd gone on to the next, never giving the old one a second thought. But this one…this one felt like it might be a little harder to walk away from.
His forehead knotted, he stepped out onto the porch, just about the time his mother's white Taurus nosed into view, setting off a whole new slew of conflicted feelings fighting for squatting rights in his brain.
"Joe! Joe! Joe!"
The car had barely come to a stop before his sister shoved open the passenger side door and clambered out, flying over to him. Laughing, he bent over and closed his arms around her, inhaling the mingled scents of floral shampoo, potato chips and fabric softener. Then he held her at arm's length to admire her fancy T-shirt, bright pinks and purples with all manner of glittery designs on it. Picking up on her cue, Kristen spread out her arms and slowly twirled, her dark hair gleaming in the sun.
"I look…hot, huh?" she said, giggling, then pushed back her hair to reveal tiny gold studs.
Joe whistled, then grinned, his hands on his hips. "Hot is right! And is that eye shadow? And lipstick?"
"Uh-huh," she said, pulling off her thick-lensed glasses to show him the pale lavender shadow already creasing in her lids. "But Mama said only on…special oc-casions. And I hafta…keep my ears clean." She pointed to the studs. "I have holes now. Like Mama."
Speaking of whom, Danielle had joined them, her smile as bright as the embroidery on her billowing white cotton dress. Her affectionate gaze washed over her daughter for a moment before she, too, pulled Joe into a surprisingly strong hug for someone a good foot shorter than he was. "Damn, it's good to see you," she whispered in his ear, then held him back much the same way he'd done to Kristen a few moments before, her dark eyes unnervingly astute underneath a head of thick, short salt-and-pepper hair brushed back from an angular face. A face currently creased into a frown. "You've lost weight."
"It's this shirt," he lied, plucking at the loose-fitting khaki work shirt he wore tucked into his jeans. "I picked up an extra-large by mistake, was too lazy to take it back."
The straight set to her unlipsticked mouth told him she wasn't buying it. But then she turned back to Kristen, who was standing there grinning.
"Doesn't she look great?" Danielle said, giving her daughter, who barely came up to her shoulder, a one-armed hug, then smiled at Joe. "She did the makeup all by herself!"
"She looks terrific," he said with another smile for his sister, even as a pang swept through him at how much his mother read into every accomplishment, no matter how minor.
"Is it…four o'clock yet?" Kristen asked.
"What does your watch say?" Danielle asked, pointing to the pink-strapped watch on Kristen's wrist.
His sister lifted her wide, short-fingered hand, frowning at the face for several moments before she stuck her tongue between her teeth and carefully said, "Three…four…six." Then she looked up. "Is it time for my show?"
"That's three forty-six," Danielle said patiently, then said, "Yes, that's close to four o'clock, but…" Tucking fingers underneath Kristen's chin, she looked into her eyes. "We talked about this before, remember? That they don't have the same TV shows everywhere, especially in the afternoons?"
"Why not?"
Joe saw his mother take a breath, knowing she'd probably explained this to his sister many times before. "Because…during the day, each TV station decides what programs it wants to put on. Remember when your class took a trip to the TV station last year?"
Kristen's heavy brows drew together; then she slowly nodded. "Where they had all the big cords on the floor, like snakes?"
"That's right! Good girl!" Danielle beamed. "Anyway, that's where the TV shows come from. So they might not have the same shows here they have in Kansas."
"Actually," Joe said, "we might." Both his mother and his sister turned to him; he pointed to the satellite dish up on the roof. "Just installed, free satellite TV. There's a schedule in the drawer underneath the TV," he addressed his sister. "Look right in front of you when you walk in, and you'll see it."
"Then bring it out here," his mother said, "and we'll check it together."
With a grin, off she went, her trundling gait little improved from what it had been as a child.
"Oh, my God, Joe…"
He turned to find his mother standing at the edge of the lot, her hand visoring her eyes as she took in the same view that had stolen Joe's breath away a few days before. "This is incredible! I had no idea it was so beautiful."
Joe crossed to the Taurus to unload the trunk, wishing he could jettison the uneasiness that refused to give him a break, even for a moment. About Kristen, about Taylor, about whatever was going on with Wes. His boss had been late again paying another sub, this time on the Tulsa project. And this time, when Joe had called the office—because Wes had apparently turned off his cell—he'd gotten that Madison character, who, instead of simply taking Joe's message, started making noises about how he had the new job in the bag…news which had settled in Joe's stomach like ground glass….
"Joe? Is something the matter?"
The trunk yawned open in front of him as he realized that's as far as he'd gotten. He grabbed a piece of luggage and smiled for his mother, hoping to ease the concern on her face.
"No, everything's fine. Just got lost in thought for a moment."
Danielle laughed. "Honestly. I would have hoped you'd have outgrown that by now. Remember how we used to find you standing in the kitchen, having no idea why you were there?"
Yeah, well, he was no less lost these days. He hefted several cases of various sizes from the trunk, lowering them to the ground as his mother, who always had switched subjects with carefree abandon, said, "I knew this would be a good idea! Bringing Kristen here, I mean. It's been so long since she's seen you…she misses you, Joe."
He slammed shut the Taurus's trunk and then glanced anxiously toward the cabin. "I wonder what's taking her so long?"
"She probably had to use the bathroom," his mother said calmly.
"Are you sure it's okay?"
Danielle looked at him, brows raised. "Why shouldn't it be? Or does the toilet work differently than any other toilet?"
"No, but…"
"Then she's fine." On a sigh, she looked back over the vista. "You always did worry too much about her."
Only because you never worried enough.
The thought shot through him with enough force to make him flinch, following closely by intense shame. Considering his mother had lived every minute of her life with Kristen, for Kristen, how could he even think such a thing?
After the luggage was all inside and his mother had duly oohed and aahed over the place, she went into the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards and nodding in apparent satisfaction. Kristen had indeed used the bathroom, regaling them both about the experience upon her return. Then Danielle prompted her about washing her hands, and off she went back to the bathroom.
"I thought Seth might be here," Danielle said, locating a glass, inspecting it, then filling it with water from the sink.
"No, he's still at camp. I thought I'd go get him while you and Kristen rest up from your trip."
She managed to both bat at him and shake her head as she drank, then set down the glass and said, "Nonsense! We're fine! We'll come with you!"
"Ma…I'm not sure that's such a good idea."
"Why on earth not? And this way, we can get a glimpse of the town! It looked charming, from what we could see of it. Besides, Kristen's been talking my ear off for the last two hundred miles about how she can't wait to meet her new brother! Isn't that right, honey?" she added as the girl reappeared.
"Uh-huh," she said with one o
f her heart-stopping grins, then pressed her hand to her stomach. "I'm ex-cited. Mama says I have butterflies in my sss-stomach, but I think she's just kidding me."
Joe shot a look at his mother, but she was too busy fixing Kristen's twisted-up shirt to notice. Maybe Kristen was ready for this meeting, but Joe wasn't all that sure he was. And he had no idea what Seth thought, since all the kid had said when Joe'd reminded him that his mother and sister were coming today was, "Oh, yeah."
"Ma."
Finally, his mother glanced in his direction.
"I really think it would be better for them to meet here."
Kristen had wandered over to the TV set in an entertainment center along one wall and turned it on. Power was one of the first words she'd been able to recognize. As the applause and bells of some game show filled the cabin, Danielle's eyes darted toward her daughter, then landed back on Joe.
"Because Kristen has DS, you mean?"
Yeah, he knew that was coming. "I don't get the feeling Seth's been around many kids with DS," he said, his gaze locked with his mother's. "I'd just like to make this as easy as possible for everyone."
"For everyone? Or you?"
Annoyance ripped through him. "I meant exactly what I said, Mother," he said softly. "Or don't I count as part of 'everyone'?"
Her head actually jerked back slightly at that. Then she let out a sigh, as though realizing how she'd sounded. That didn't mean she'd back down, though. Not if Joe knew his mother. And sure enough, she said, "I'm sorry. Of course your opinion counts. It's just…" Another quick glance at her daughter, then: "It just seems to me the less of a big deal we make out of this, the less trouble we'll have down the road. With them adjusting to each other and all." Tilting her head, she touched Joe's arm. "Don't you think?"
After a brief standoff, Joe lifted his hands in surrender. "Fine. If that's the way you want to do this, that's what we'll do."
But if it backfired, he thought grumpily as he herded the two of them out to the Blazer, guess who'd have to clean up the mess.
Everybody's Hero Page 16
