One to Keep

by Lexi Blake

  He would never have learned if Mikhail had not taken the time to teach him.

  “They won’t.” Caleb’s mouth became a stubborn line. “I swear, sometimes I’d like to take those other kids by the throat and teach them what it means to be a bully. But I’m not supposed to do that anymore.”

  Alexei slapped him on the back as an idea occurred to him. “Then we should put your anger to the management.”

  One reddish-brown brow rose. “Excuse me?”

  He searched for the words. Sometimes English was hard. “We should to teach the boys. If they learn, then they play. No one will call them nerd when they learn to put their asses on other boys.”

  “God, I hope you meant to say put the other boys on their asses,” Caleb said with a shake of his head.

  “If that mean to hurt them in an entirely legal fashion, then yes. This is what I mean. I am good hockey player. Do you play?”

  “Yeah,” Caleb said, his lips curling up. “Actually, that sounds like fun. I wouldn’t mind a little practice.” He turned and slipped out of his seat. “Holly, can you get us a thermos of coffee? Come on, Bobby and Will, the big Russian guy and I are going to teach you how to put the older kids on their asses—I mean butts.”

  Alexei paid his tab quickly and was rewarded with the twins’ shining faces, and Holly, who looked at him like he was the nicest man alive.

  She could never know the things he’d done.

  But maybe he could help a couple of kids out.

  He followed Caleb and the boys out the door in time to dodge two men in cowboy hats running for their lives. The large dog he’d seen earlier ran behind them.

  “Sorry, mister,” one of them said. “We gotta move. Our wife’s having a baby.”

  His English must be really bad, Alexei decided. It almost sounded like they shared a wife. He found that idea entirely entertaining.

  “You coming, mister?” one of the young twins asked.

  “Sure,” he replied and followed his new friends.

  Chapter Eight

  Stef strode through the double doors of Trio with one thought on his mind—get Jen and go home. He’d searched all over the fucking town for her. From the moment he’d realized she’d left the house, he’d been looking for her. He’d tried Stella’s, where he’d found out she’d had lunch with Callie and Rachel. He’d moved on to the Trading Post, where Teeny and Marie had admitted they’d talked to her for half an hour about everything that had happened in Dallas, including her unfortunate incarceration. Marie had made it plain that she blamed him. Jen wouldn’t have gotten into trouble if he’d had enough of a brain to marry her. Laura Niles at the Stop ’n’ Shop had said roughly the same thing.

  How had she left everyone high and dry, but he was the villain?

  “This place is new, Stefan. It used to be a hardware store, I think.”

  And he’d done all of his roaming with his father riding his ass. He wasn’t sure how much worse the day could get.

  “Mr. Weldon died back in ’05, and he didn’t have any kids. The place was empty until Callie’s husband decided we needed a bar he didn’t almost get murdered in,” Stef said under his breath as he looked around the little tavern.

  It was filled to the brim with tourists. The damn Winter Festival. In all the drama of the day, he’d forgotten that it started tomorrow. He’d promised Callie and Rachel that he would help with several of the events. He was supposed to host the final night’s dinner and call out the raffle prizes. Could he get out of that? Shit. Rachel would probably get upset. A stiff wind was all it took to get her crying these days. He was stuck. That was exactly what he needed, his whole damn town overrun with strangers while he was trying to keep an eye on Jennifer. Despite what Nate had said, he would feel better when that painting turned up.

  “Which husband is that? Nathan, or the large, ill-tempered character?” His father glanced around the place with the same enthusiasm he’d shown all day. Everywhere they’d gone his father had tried to talk to people, to find out everything that had changed in the years since he’d left.

  And ill-tempered was a good way to describe Zane Hollister. “It was the big one, Dad.”

  His father’s brows came together in a concerned V. “And you say that Maxwell and Ryan are involved with a single female as well?”

  “Yes,” Stefan replied shortly. After the incident he’d started to mentally refer to as Anal Plug Armageddon, his father had all kinds of questions about the relationships in Bliss. He’d been shocked to discover that ménage was rapidly becoming a way of life in the little mountain town.

  “But you aren’t sharing Jennifer with someone, are you?”

  He reminded himself that he was thirty-two years old, independently wealthy, respected in the art world, and responsible for himself. So why did talking to his father about sex make him feel like he was an eleven-year-old boy who had gotten caught with a Playboy? Of course, when he’d gotten caught with a Playboy, it had been by Stella, who’d given him a stern lecture about respecting women and taken it away. Max and Rye had been pissed off because it was the only one they had. Two days later, Mel had replaced it. He’d given Stef a lecture, too. Mel had advised him to always make sure the women in his pornography were humans.

  “No, Dad. I’m not even dating Jennifer, much less passing her around to my friends.”

  And he wouldn’t. Not ever. He loved Max and Rye like brothers. He felt the same way about Nate, and he’d gotten to where he was rather fond of that Neanderthal, Zane. But he would never understand how they could share the woman they loved.

  He didn’t love her. Perhaps if he told himself that a hundred times a day he could believe it.

  A soft, twinkling laugh flitted through the bar. There were many people talking and laughing, but that one sound had all of Stef’s attention. He could pick Jennifer’s laughter out of a crowd of a hundred thousand.

  His father pulled at his coat sleeve. “So you merely tie her up? You don’t date her?”

  Stef’s back was suddenly ramrod straight as his eyes found her. She was sitting at the bar with Callie on her right, accepting a glass from Zane. That wasn’t what had his back up. It was the cowboy sitting beside her, his hand possessively resting on her back, mere inches from her perfect ass.

  James Glen. He was a rancher who had inherited an enormous spread from his father a few years back. He was twenty-five and a known playboy. He smiled at Jennifer, leaning in like they were having an intimate conversation. He was tall, dark, and very much the asshole since he was busy trying to horn in on another man’s woman.

  Damn it, he couldn’t think that way. Except that technically she was his. He’d signed a bunch of paperwork making him responsible for her. Yeah. She was his. He just didn’t love her, and she wouldn’t be his forever. He would do well to remember that.

  “Stefan,” Sebastian said, his impatience obvious in the tone of his voice. “I asked you a question. I’m trying hard to understand this lifestyle you seem to have chosen.”

  “It isn’t a lifestyle. It’s who I am, and it’s private.” He tried to keep the irritation out of his tone. He was fairly sure he was failing miserably. While his father had been reacquainting himself with the town, Stef couldn’t help but think about how many years had gone by. Every time his dad marveled at some new store in town, Stef would think about the fact that if he’d ever come to visit, he would have known. He would likely have been able to figure out Callie wasn’t his son’s girlfriend if Sebastian had given a damn.

  “But I’m your father.”

  “No, you are the one who provided the male portion of the DNA that created me.” He couldn’t quite keep the cruelty out of his voice. “Mel was the one who taught me how to shoot a gun, and he was the one who told me about sex. Do you have any idea how difficult a conversation that was? He’s legally insane, but he did it. Stella made sure I had lunch on the weekends when the nanny took off and didn’t bother to bring in a replacement. Callie’s mom took me to the docto
r when I was sick. You are not my father, and you have no place in my life. So back off.”

  He stalked away. He didn’t look back because he was sure of what he would see. His father’s illness seemed to have brought on some need to bond with the child he’d left behind, but Stef didn’t have the time or patience to deal with him right now. His father had been sick, and he hadn’t bothered to tell him. Why should it mean anything at all to him? His father didn’t need him in any way that counted. His stomach was in knots. His hands were shaking with the force of his rage.

  She thought she could ignore him?

  He’d been the one to get her out of jail. He’d been the one to move heaven and fucking earth to get her out of that hellhole, and she was flirting with James Glen, who couldn’t tell a Klimt from a Jasper Johns because he spent all of his time knee-deep in cow crap. He had no interest in who Jennifer Waters was as a person or an artist. He liked her tits, and she was smiling at him. She was giving him her softness.

  Stef pushed through the crowded bar. He plowed his way through the tourists and locals who called out his name. His vision tunneled down to Jennifer, the rest of the world falling away. Her generous lips opened, and another long, sexy laugh came out of her throat. She put a hand on James Glen’s forearm as she said something low and seductive.

  “Stef, are you okay?” Callie asked.

  He barely heard her. He did catch Zane’s smirk.

  “No fighting in my bar, Talbot,” Zane ordered.

  He’d paid for the damn bar. He should be able to do what he wanted in it. And what he wanted to do was fuck up James Glen’s unlined, pretty-boy face.

  “Hey, Glen, you want to move your hand off the girl’s ass?” He felt his every muscle go hard and his heart start to pound. Why was he doing this? His rational brain knew he needed a bit of distance between himself and the way-too-young-to-ever-settle-down girl, but the caveman in him wanted that fucker’s hand off his woman’s ass.

  James Glen turned, his Stetson moving as though it always sat on his head. “You got a problem, Talbot? I was just welcoming a friend back into town.”

  “You bet I have a problem,” he spat.

  Jen looked back at him. “What’s wrong with…” She stopped, and a smile curled on her lips. She forcibly removed James Glen’s hand from her waist. Her smile was wry as she looked back at him. “Better, babe?”

  The endearment did weird things to his heart. It was a term for equals, for partners. He shouldn’t take it seriously. “You need to come home with me. You’ve had a rough day.”

  “Yes, I have. I could probably use a little stress relief,” she said as she brought the wineglass to her lips. “Can you think of anything that might help?”

  His cock stuck up her ass? That might help. His cock fucking her tight little asshole would relieve an enormous amount of his stress. Just like that, he was hard and ready to fuck. Damn, he was glad he’d left his coat on. He grasped on to the only non-sexual thing he could think to say.

  “You stole my snowmobile.”

  Callie laughed. “That’s the worst diversion tactic I’ve heard yet. And it was me. I stole the snowmobile. I hate driving that damn SUV of Zane’s. It’s like he has to prove how big his penis is. It’s unwieldy.”

  “The SUV. Not my dick, that’s completely wieldy. I wield it often and totally in her direction,” Zane said with a grin.

  “Are you going to arrest me?” Jen asked with a laugh. “Because I think I’ll appreciate Bliss County Jail way more than where I woke up this morning. Zane was telling me Nate’s new admin, Hope, takes food orders for the poor people Nate tosses in there.”

  “Stella and I split it,” Zane explained. “She takes the lunch orders, and I get anything after 7:00 p.m. You would be surprised what some well-made fries can do to liven up a prisoner’s day. I make sure they’re hand cut. I figure if I feed ’em properly, maybe they won’t sue Nate. So far we’re good.”

  Jen shook her head. “See, this is why I love small towns. No one offered me fries in the Dallas lockup. Though I did get a thorough body cavity search from a woman named Mildred.”

  “That must have been horrible for you, darlin’,” James said, his hand stroking hers.

  Stef felt his blood flare, but Jen moved the cowboy’s hand off her wrist.

  “That’s sweet, James, but seriously, I belong to him. He might be too dumb to admit it, but he’ll do that thing where he starts a fight, and he’ll probably get his ass kicked, and then I have to listen to him whine.”

  “I don’t whine.” What the hell was happening? He’d expected her to spit bile his way, not sweetly tell everyone she belonged to him. Because she didn’t.

  Jennifer shrugged. “That’s not what Max says. Max says you whine every time he kicks your ass.”

  “Max lies,” he retorted. “And he doesn’t kick my ass. I hold my own. I have since we were kids. Let’s go home.”

  She hopped off the barstool. “Okay.”

  Just like that? Where was the catch? She’d been the brattiest thing he’d ever met for a year and a half. Now she walked to him, placing her hand in his and turning her perfectly serene face up. He was at a loss. Did he lead her out or wait for the other shoe to drop?

  “Should we get your dad?” Her hand squeezed his when she said the word “dad,” as though she knew how conflicted he was and offered her support.

  He found his fingers lacing through hers. “I left him in the front.”

  Her eyes scanned behind him. “Well, now he’s sitting at a table with Hiram and Stella.”

  He turned and saw that his father was laughing, his head thrown back, his face more open than he could ever remember it.

  “You’re going to have to talk to him, you know,” Jen said, her eyes narrowing in obvious concern.

  “Why?” He didn’t have to do anything. As far as he could see, he didn’t have anything to say to his father.

  “Because it’s the right thing to do.” She started walking, her hands still laced in his, forcing him to follow. “Leave him the keys. We can drive the snowmobile back. Somehow I think someone will take Callie home.”

  She took the lead, pressing through the crowd, holding on to him. She stopped in front of the table where the mayor of Bliss sat holding court with some of the town’s older residents.

  “Good evening, Sebastian,” Jen said with a sunny expression on her face.

  His father’s smile was slightly tight, as though he didn’t approve. “Jennifer.”

  If it bothered Jennifer, she didn’t show it. “Please, only Stef ever calls me Jennifer. My friends call me Jen.”

  One eyebrow cocked up. “Stefan isn’t your friend?”

  Her hand squeezed his as she replied with a little laugh. “Stefan is a complete coward. Calling me Jennifer is his way of distancing himself. You’ll note he doesn’t run around calling Max Maxwell or Rye Ryan. It’s okay. We’re going to work on the problem.”

  “Jennifer.” He bit out her name between clenched teeth. She was pushing him. Why?

  Her hand came up and rubbed across his chest. “It’s all right. No one thinks less of you. Everyone gets scared. Now, give your dad the keys, and I’ll get my coat and meet you outside.”

  She released his hand and strode off toward the front of the tavern. Coward? She’d called him a coward in front of his father.

  “Now, Stef, you need to take a break and think about what you’re going to do next,” Stella said sternly.

  He didn’t need to take a break. “I’m going to blister her backside. That’s what I’m going to do.”

  Stella’s relief was obvious in the relaxed line of her mouth. “Oh, good. I thought you were going to do something stupid.”

  “Stella, how can you say that?” Sebastian slapped a palm on the table. “I might not like the girl, but I certainly don’t want my son to inflict injury on her.”

  Stella’s eyes rolled. “You’ve turned into an old man. Stef, don’t listen to him. I knew your father when he
was younger. He wasn’t always a dried-up old prude. And listen here, Sebastian. That girl is the best thing to ever happen to your son, and one day he’ll wake up and see it. Maybe, if he’s smarter than his father, he’ll reach out and grab her. Maybe he won’t wait twenty years, because let me tell you, if he does, she won’t be sitting around waiting for him.”

  Stella pushed out of the booth and strode away. Stef could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes. The crowd swallowed her up.

  Hiram put a wrinkled hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “That was to be expected. Let’s have a beer. I’ve missed you, old friend. Let me tell you about all the craziness around here. These young folks are very entertaining.”

  Stef shook his head and turned from the sight of his father and the elderly mayor of Bliss. It struck him suddenly that his father had a life here at one time. He’d lived here and built the manor house and the guesthouse. He’d been a part of Bliss. He’d seemed happy here and always spoke of it with an obvious fondness.

  Why had he left?

  Because people left. That was what they did. His mother had left. His father had left. Jennifer left. People picked up and left when he became difficult, and he couldn’t quite figure out how to not be difficult.

  He didn’t like the direction of his thoughts. It made his stomach twist and turn. It was easier to focus on the fact that Jennifer had defied direct orders. He was responsible for her. He’d signed papers that made him accountable for her behavior. She’d been in jail. She’d left Bliss, and not six months later she was involved with some unsavory people. The minute she got back, she started looking for more unsavory people. He pushed through the crowd, scowling at anyone in his path. He was satisfied with the way they made room for him, shuffling out of his space as though no one wanted to get too close. He found her at the door, talking to Logan Green, Nate’s deputy sheriff. She laughed at something he said and gave him a big hug that seemed like it lasted far too long. Logan was about Jennifer’s age, perhaps a tiny bit younger. He was far more suitable for her than a thirty-two-year-old man.