“That will just take time—”
“Don’t you get it?” His hands shot out to grasp her shoulders. “I can’t ‘reconsider’ my past. What do I know about being a father? The one that made my life miserable is not a good example and history bears out I’m just as cold as he was.”
She refused to be cowed, even though his frustration was clearly morphing into anger. “Listen to your gut, your instincts—”
“Fine,” he ground out. “I’ll listen to your advice. I’ll do exactly what my gut is telling me I should.” With a quick jerk, he brought her up against him.
His mouth crushed hers. Shocked, she was like wood in his arms, until she felt the rough-soft brush of his tongue over the seam of her lips. Her body had no resistance to him—never had—and she opened for him immediately. At her instant acquiescence, the pressure of the kiss changed from punishing to tender, and he ate at her mouth softly.
Shivering in reaction, she moaned, and then he changed the angle of his head to kiss her even more deeply. Her heart pounded in her ears, every beat working against her, drowning out the natural warnings any woman might feel upon being the sexual focal point of such a virile male.
His mouth roamed over her face, and she felt the prick of his evening whiskers along her cheek, edging her jaw, at the soft skin beneath her chin.
Shay felt as if she were coming undone one stitch at a time, a lifetime of hems and seams being picked apart by a master. His arm was iron against her back and she leaned against it, giving him all her weight, trusting that he would hold her up.
Her knees were too soft to perform their usual function.
He swung them both around and now her back was to the sliding door. His body held her to it, and the disparate sensation of cold against her back and heated man against her front confused her senses.
One of his hands was planted on the door beside her head, the other found its way beneath her T-shirt. Her belly muscles twitched and her nerve endings jittered as he found her bare midriff. His mouth sought out a sensitive spot on her neck and she whimpered as he kissed her there, hotly, and his hand insinuated itself beneath the stretchy material of her bra. He cupped the weight of her breast and his thumb stroked over the tip that tightened at his ministrations.
Shay closed her eyes, intent on the feel of his hot lips exploring her neck and his rough hand playing at her breast. Her fingers clutched the sides of his shirt and she whimpered again.
Making a much deeper sound of need, Jace shoved up her shirt and pulled the cup of her bra below the hard and rosy point. He bent his head and touched it with his hot, wet tongue. Shay gasped.
With a muffled curse, Jace jolted backward, yanking her clothes back into place. Shay’s hands fell to her sides and she reached for purchase on the cold, slick glass.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her head still muzzy from the drugging effect of his kisses and caresses.
“Proving my point.” He was striding away from her, toward the front door. “Good father material wouldn’t be making out with his daughter’s teacher.”
* * *
JACE WAS STILL breathing hard when he vaulted into his car and took himself away from the house. Without any purpose other than to calm himself, he gripped the steering wheel and drove aimlessly, working hard not to lead-foot the gas pedal. Why the fuck couldn’t he keep his hands off of her?
What was it about the woman that made him burn for her mouth and her body?
When he felt more in control, he took stock of his surroundings. Near the town of Blue Arrow Lake, he noted. There was a tavern overlooking the water and its parking lot was only half-full. A beer sounded good.
Baseball was on the TV over the bar. He ordered a local craft brew and took his first swallow, ordering himself to further relax. Desperate for some peace, he didn’t look over when a man sat on the neighboring stool. No sense in inviting conversation.
But the newcomer didn’t take the hint. “Hey, there,” he said in an easy voice. “Good to see you again.”
Again? Jace glanced over, taking in a tall man with a ball cap pulled low over his eyes. “Who...”
Then the stranger half turned on his seat and Jace noticed the distinctive blue eyes. Ryan Hamilton held out his hand. “Sanity break?”
“How’d you know?” Jace asked, returning a firm shake.
“Single man comes back to the States, suddenly finds himself with a daughter and a woman—”
“A daughter and her tutor,” Jace corrected.
Ryan shrugged. “In any case, big changes for you.”
“Yeah.” Jace brought his beer to his mouth. “Why are you out for a cold one alone?”
Ryan’s smile went movie-star blinding. “I hate to even tell you, man.”
“Why’s that?”
He shook his head. “My mountain girl...she’s really something.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t tell me,” Jace said, amused by the other man’s exuberant mood. “It sounds private.”
Ryan chuckled. “It’s just a little game we like to play.”
Jace’s brows shot high. “Um...”
The other man laughed again. “It’s probably not as salacious as you’re imagining. Every once in a while, I say good-night to Mason, then head out for my solo beer. Poppy reads the boy to sleep and uses my absence to take a long bath. After, she puts on something silky just about the same time as I ring the doorbell.”
“I thought Shay said she lives with you.”
“Oh, she does. But in our little role play I’m the stranger who needs shelter from the rain.” He picked up his beer to clink it against Jace’s and grinned. “A slightly modified reenactment of how we met.”
Interesting. It made Jace think of Shay, their night in the Deerpoint Inn, and then of what she might be doing now. A bath like her sister? Shit. Do not go there. He stared up at the TV, trying to put all thoughts of the tutor—naked, wet—from his mind.
“We’ll have to get you and Shay and London over for dinner,” Ryan said now.
Putting the three of them in a sentence like that didn’t sit well with Jace. “Not sure if there’ll be time for that,” he said.
Ryan flipped off his hat, adjusted it back on his head. “Summer’s long up at the lake.”
“I won’t be here all summer.”
“Really?” Ryan looked surprised. “I thought Shay said—”
“I’m cutting things short. Getting London to her new school early, for a summer session.”
“New school?”
“Boarding school. Then I’m heading back to work overseas.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We really like London. She’s great with Mason.” Ryan frowned. “That means Shay will be out of work.”
“I’m paying her the full contract amount,” Jace hastened to say.
“That’s good.” Ryan stared off into space. “She can help Poppy with the wedding, if she wants. And with the cabins.”
“We were out there today,” Jace said.
Ryan shook his head. “Poppy will be thrilled, but I’ve got to say I’m surprised.”
“She’s a hard worker,” Jace defended. “London put time in, too.”
“No, no, of course Shay’s a hard worker. She’s a Walker, isn’t she?”
“I’ve not met any of the other siblings.”
Ryan gave a wry smile. “Stubborn as mules. Full of pride. Poppy’s the only open heart among them.”
Jace frowned. “Shay said she was one of the cynical Walkers. I find that hard to believe.”
“My girl is rainbows and unicorns...who for highly sentimental reasons wants to make something of that land. On the other hand, Brett, Mackenzie and Shay have been just as highly reluctant.”
“That curse doesn’t sound very cynical.”<
br />
Ryan waved it away. “A colorful excuse if you ask me.”
“What’s their real reason, then?”
He shrugged again. “You’d have to press each one of them about that. They don’t volunteer much...especially Shay, I think.”
Jace should leave it alone. She was none of his concern. “Especially Shay?” he heard himself ask. Shit!
“Poppy says she has a place inside no one can reach.”
Jace’s hand tightened on his beer. He thought he’d found his way to it unknowingly, to the hidden, secret center of her, that night at the Deerpoint Inn when she’d told him about her aversion to birthdays. And the next night, too, when she’d allowed him into her bed. Today he’d discovered even more—when she’d made clear she felt a veil of separation between herself and her half siblings.
“Anyhow, we’ll find a way to keep her busy when you and London go,” the other man said cheerfully.
Jace couldn’t share in his good humor. “She might miss my daughter.”
“Don’t worry, Jace. It seems to me Shay doesn’t allow herself to get too attached to anybody.”
“Wonderful,” he muttered, regretting this grand idea he had for a sanity break. It hadn’t brought him even a modicum of peace. Instead, now he was bothered by the uncomfortable idea that keeping herself so apart ensured his daughter’s tutor might forever be alone.
It was the last thing, he thought he could say for sure, that Shay wanted.
* * *
AT SNAIL SPEED, London climbed out of her father’s car. Only one foot had made it to the ground when he glanced over the roof of the SUV as he pulled lumber from the back. “Dawdling won’t get you out of rake duty,” he said.
She refused to rustle up the energy to glare at him. “I should have stayed back at the house. I have math homework and a paper to write.”
He grunted, not even bothering with a real answer.
London released a long-suffering sigh. It was her second day in a row to work at the cabins and it felt like forever since seeing anyone within ten years of her own age. She might die of tedium. For a time it seemed as if her life had finally started, but now it had come to another dull standstill.
“Help me carry these pieces over to the first cabin,” Jace said.
London slammed shut the car door and then sauntered to the rear of the SUV. She picked up one end of the eight-foot length of wood and dragged the other behind her, following Jace, who carried several pieces stacked on his shoulder.
He set his load down and then took in her own lackluster effort. Though his expression didn’t change, London felt a small spurt of shame. She told herself to ignore it. If she didn’t cooperate with good grace, then perhaps he’d give up this idea of penalizing her by working at the cabins.
Being back at the house might give her another opportunity to meet up with Colton.
“I’m going to get started replacing the window trim,” Jace said. “Go fast, go slow, it’s your job to get the remainder of the wood over here, then—”
“I can’t pick up that rake again,” she said, sure she would keel over if she had to once more wield that particular tool.
Her father stared at her for a long minute, and hope bloomed. Maybe he’d tell her to sit in the car until he was ready to go home. She’d curl up on the backseat and snooze the afternoon away. Or perhaps he’d let her call Shay for a pickup. Her tutor had the afternoon off, but if London put her need for rescue in dire terms, surely she’d give in and collect her.
“All right,” he said. “You can be my assistant.”
Great. London rolled her eyes. Although he wasn’t an ogre—and had actually been marginally humorous the day before when he and Shay joined in the water fight—she didn’t want him thinking she was interested in being pals. Still, she couldn’t get the least bit enthusiastic about more raking, so she trudged back to the car to retrieve the rest of the wood.
He’d found a couple of sawhorses and set up a work area by one of the cabins. The window trim was moldy and peppered with holes. “Dry rot,” her father commented, pulling it off with his hands. “See what you can get free.”
London made a face. The work looked dirty and buggy. Slipping on her gloves, she moved to an adjacent window, got a grip and tentatively tugged.
“You’re not picking flowers,” Jace advised. “Get more aggressive with it, or use the crowbar.”
Irritated by the criticism, London put a little muscle into it. With a satisfying crunch, the bottom trim piece pulled free. She glanced over and saw that Jace had arranged the parts he’d removed onto the grass, in the shape of a frame. “Why’d you do that?” she asked, pointing.
“We can use them as a pattern for the new pieces,” he said. “Then we’ll prime and paint them before nailing them back up.”
That made good sense. London went back to work, following his example. “How’d you learn to do stuff like this?”
When he glanced over, eyebrows raised, she felt stupid. “Not that I care or anything,” she muttered.
“My father.”
“Yeah?” She bent to place another section on the ground. “He around?”
“No. He died a number of years ago. Emphysema, from a lifetime of smoking.” He looked hard at her. “You don’t—”
“Gross,” she said. “As if I want yellow teeth and black lungs.”
“Good,” Jace said with a little nod. “That’s good.”
“What about your mom?” she asked.
“Gone, too. She left when I was young, much younger than you, but I was notified when she passed a few years back.”
So he’d been a motherless kid, too, though his mom had chosen to walk away. Maybe that’s what had given him the idea it was okay to basically ignore her for a decade.
Not that she’d ever needed a daddy.
She’d practically raised herself. Their housekeeper, Opal, had always said London was the most self-sufficient person she’d ever known. It made her feel good remembering that.
It also made her think she should write Opal a letter or something. Their former housekeeper didn’t know the first thing about computers, but she’d been sending London handwritten notes every week or so. Maybe she could ask for her chocolate-chip oatmeal cookie recipe. Then she’d get Shay to shop for the ingredients and one afternoon London would make the dough and the scent of them baking would lure Colton to the house after school...
She imagined the occasion in great detail. He’d rap on the kitchen door and she’d gesture him in with the spatula. Practically drooling, he’d walk toward the rack of cooling cookies, then he’d look over at her and stop dead.
Because she’d have on...what?
Not black. Not jeans. Not a hoodie.
A flirty skirt? Shorts? She always thought her knees were too knobby, but she couldn’t be in pants forever. So it would be something in cherry red, maybe, or—
“Your maternal grandparents are gone now, too,” Jace said, interrupting her mental fashion musings.
London blinked, coming out of her fantasy kitchen scenario to the sunny reality of the cabins. She narrowed her eyes at her father, not sure where he was going with this. “Yeah?” she asked, drawing out the word.
He cleared his throat, looked over her head, then looked back at her face. “So it’s just you and me.”
Uncomfortable with the thought, she shrugged. “I’m cool on my own. Don’t need anybody.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t the happy kind. “You probably get that from me. I’ve always lived a lone-wolf life.”
London considered that. He sort of looked like a wolf, she decided. Thick dark hair. Those eyes that were gold-colored. And he was big. Muscular. He probably could kick ass if he had to. “You ever fight anybody?” she asked.
“Uh...”
> “Please,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “I know that violence isn’t the solution to anything. I’m just asking.”
This time his smile appeared more genuine. “I’m swearing you to secrecy on this, okay?”
“Sure.”
“Fifth grade. There was this kid who had older brothers so he was pretty good with his fists. He liked to call me ‘Jace Butt-Face.’”
London hooted. “That is really lame.”
“Yeah,” her father agreed. “But I got sick of hearing it, especially when he followed me home from school yelling it at me when I was walking with these really cute girls.”
She tried picturing it. “Were you big then, too?”
“Scrawny. But like all bullies, at heart my tormenter was a coward. So I stood up to him. He slugged me, I slugged back and I split his lip. When he saw the blood dripping from his mouth, he ran home crying.”
“No more Jace Butt-Face?”
“He tried to nail me during dodgeball for the next year or so, but he didn’t call me names anymore.”
“Dodgeball is a barbaric game,” London said, shuddering.
“You like sports? Different games?” her father asked.
“I play a little tennis.” Or she did. But sweating too much made the liner around her eyes sting.
“Yeah? Maybe you should try out for the school team.”
“I don’t know,” London said, frowning. “What time of year do they compete? I don’t see myself clearing mountain snow off a court in order to bat a ball around.”
Jace opened his mouth, hesitated, then looked away. “We’ll find out the details. You can decide then.”
They returned to the task at hand. Her father didn’t try to keep the conversation going, for which London was grateful. She returned to her cookie-baking fantasy, trying on imaginary outfits in her mind that would wow Colton Halliday. Seventeen never looked so good, he’d say, and she’d play with her hair while talking to him like she’d seen Shay doing the other day.
It couldn’t be black anymore, London decided, suddenly certain of that. For the past fourteen months she’d been coloring it “Obsidian Wing,” and she was down to the last box she’d brought with her from England anyway. But what shade had it been before? She could hardly remember. Like Jace’s—a dark chocolatey brown?
Make Me Lose Control Page 13
