Conflict of Interest (The Walker Five Book 1)

by Marie Johnston

  She sighed. “I know. It was just…unexpected. I was ready, but I wasn’t.”

  He wanted her to feel as comfortable about this as he did, and she needed more time. “Do you like watching movies? I’m a little backlogged on my to-watch list. We could see what’s available.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “I even have popcorn we could make.” He got up and held out a hand for her.

  She gifted him with the sweetest smile as he helped her up and handed her his sweatshirt and shorts back.

  “So what do you like—action, drama, comedy?” He’d watch whatever she requested, do damn near whatever she wanted.

  ***

  What Elle wanted was to have more sex with Dillon. Their tryst on the kitchen floor had busted the dam of her inhibitions.

  They watched the latest superhero movie to kill the afternoon. Before the credits rolled, she gladly found herself naked on her back on the couch with him pushing inside.

  They had a roast for supper—plentiful cuts of quality meats, one of the benefits of a ranch. After the dishes were done, they managed to keep their hands—mostly—off each other to watch another movie. Now she was spread on top of him, riding him like her life depended on it. It might not, but after the snow melted, and the roads were drivable, she feared this wouldn’t last.

  They’d each go back to their own lives and their problems would still be there. Even if he wasn’t her client anymore, she didn’t want to repeat her childhood, or her adult years.

  He palmed her breasts, dissolving any apprehension, yet her desperation showed in her frantic pace.

  Would she ever get enough? They could fuck all weekend and she’d go home and want him again, and again.

  Her orgasm crashed down. Throwing her head back, crying out, she tried not to weep with her release because how much more time did she have with him before reality sunk back in?

  He crested with her, his hands digging into her hips. She swayed from the effort, boneless from her own finish. Draped over him, they both caught their breath while he stroked her hair.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” he murmured in her ear.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering how she should answer. She went with the simple truth. “I guess I’m scared.”

  “About us?” From the moment they met, he’d been single-minded about her. If only it was so easy for her. “Are you scared about work? I don’t think you did anything wrong.”

  “I did if it stops you from getting help.”

  His solid chest became rock hard as he tensed. “I’m not seeing anyone else.”

  “Dillon—”

  “No, Elle. It was hard enough to make the appointment with you. I can’t go to another stranger and have them think there’s something wrong with me, too.”

  “It’s okay to admit you have a problem.”

  Gently, he lifted her off him and turned them to the side so they could face each other. “Have you seen me have a drink since you’ve been here?”

  “Alcoholism doesn’t work like that.”

  He scowled. “Is that what your textbooks told you?”

  “It’s what living with my father told me,” she said flatly. She pushed against his embrace, but the circle of his arms was immovable.

  “Tell me about him.”

  She gave up, both on trying to distance herself from him and keeping her family drama a secret. “My mom left us because of his drinking. At times he was so useless, I would have to call in sick for him. In high school, I worked to put groceries on the table because he could barely keep the bills paid. I worked my ass off to afford college, spent every moment in the pool trying to earn a full-ride scholarship.”

  “Did you?”

  “No. I earned a partial scholarship, got a few grants, but I have a shitload of loans. I worked a couple of jobs to help offset the cost and I went to school close by so I could live at home. I needed to take care of Dad anyway.” She looked away, trying to blink back tears.

  “Is that how he broke a hip?” Dillon asked softly.

  “No, he’s been in the longest stretch of sobriety I’ve ever witnessed. But he kinda had to quit to live, which I wasn’t sure would be enough for him. He destroyed himself and developed leukemia. Never recovered his strength after chemo, and then he fell down the stairs.”

  A tear escaped, she allowed a few more to fall, breaking her oath to herself to never cry over this again. “Grad school was the most miserable experience of my life. I went to class, shuttled him to the hospital and back. He barely survived treatment. I still can’t believe he’s in remission, but… That’s why I moved here. A town big enough to need an addiction counselor, but small enough I can run home to check on him at lunch. Or afford a nursing home.”

  “Doesn’t he have a pension or something?” He swiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb.

  “Never worked anywhere long enough, too young to draw social security. It’ll be a tight couple of years until he turns sixty-five, but he needs to be in assisted living or I’ll have a repeat of what happened last week.”

  He stroked her hair and they lay next to each other in companionable silence.

  “So,” it was his turn to get flayed open, “I told you mine, tell me yours.”

  His hand paused mid-stroke and he frowned. “What do you mean? You know my story.”

  “Does anyone know the story of what happened between you and Cash?”

  Wincing, he rolled onto his back, keeping her tucked into his side. “I should’ve known you’d target that, Doc.”

  “It’s not just my job, I do care about you.” A lot. Way more than was safe for her heart.

  “I told you we were like twins. He was always the wild one and I was always along for the ride.” He twined his fingers into hers. “I was the one that wanted to join the Army. Cash is always searching for an adventure—that’s why he’s the rancher. Working the same field for an entire day, only him and the tractor, he’d be insane in a week. He was always an irresponsible idiot, but it didn’t bother me until we deployed.”

  “How were you two stationed together?”

  Dillon blew out a gusty breath. “Freak occurrence during our second enlistment; we ended up in the same platoon, too. I reupped—reenlisted—for another four years because he was going to. I couldn’t cut him loose; I functioned as his conscience his whole life. I managed to keep him out of trouble.”

  He stayed silent so long, she feared he wouldn’t continue. His body was rock-hard with tension, nearly vibrating.

  “Then…the last deployment. We were clearing a building. I gave him an order to get out of there and he blew me off. He wouldn’t have done that with another soldier, but it was me. One of our buddies, Daniels, got killed. He continued sweeping a room and tripped an IED.” Dillon swallowed hard. “He was with us one second, gone the next. It happened so fast, pure chaos. Then training kicked in.”

  He’d hadn’t relaxed. His unseeing gaze on the ceiling, likely seeing it all over again.

  Elle suspected a story like his, and it explained the lack of pictures. Constant reminders since Cash was probably in most of them. She rested her hand on his chest. His heart beat was quicker than she’d expect for a man lying down. “You felt it was Cash’s fault?”

  Dillon clenched his jaw. “Yep, he outranked Daniels, should’ve gotten them both out of that building on my order. But he spun the truth so his ass wouldn’t get punished. Daniels took the fall, even after death.”

  She could ask if he talked to Cash about it, but the answer lay in the silver cans in his fridge. “Then you had to come home and find out your dad was sick, and you missed all that time with him. And, may I add, you felt guilty that you were relieved Cash was all right when another man was killed.”

  His chest rose under her hand, then fell slowly. He stared at the ceiling, so still. Finally, he blew out a hard breath. “You’re good.”

  She sat up to rearrange the blankets over them. He’d talked and it wa
s more than she’d expected and it was the beginning of what he needed. Maybe now he could sleep the rest of the night without nightmares. And if he had bad dreams, she knew to give him a lot of space.

  They couldn’t know what the future held, if she could continue seeing him, but tonight, she only needed to snuggle in his arms and sleep in his bed. She needed the comfort as much as he did.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dillon stood at the end of his driveway, staring down the road.

  Elle clomped up behind him in her boots up the drive. He hadn’t been sure she’d woken up when he left the bed. “You could’ve stayed in bed.”

  “I couldn’t go back to sleep.”

  He wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her firm ass. “I’ll have to make sure I wear you out more.” Since she didn’t argue, he took it as an open invitation. “Your car will never make it through that.”

  Her gaze followed his. Several inches of snow had melted the day before, but several inches remained on the roadway. By the end of the weekend, it’d all be melted, but not so she could get home today. The only positive to his pickup getting stolen and being stranded at his house. Elle was stuck with him. No four-wheel drive to give her a ride back to town.

  “Are you sure?” She stood on her tiptoes, like it would help her see an extra mile down the road. “The plows haven’t come yet?”

  “We’re not an emergency route. They’ll probably be out here later today.”

  “I’d better go call work.” She turned to trudge through his mucky driveway to head back to the house, a frown on her face.

  A day of missed clients probably meant a day’s less pay for her. She’d mentioned her debt, and with her dad in the nursing home, she was footing that bill, too.

  He quickly covered the distance between them. “I can see if Brock can give you a ride to town.”

  She paused to think about it. “No. He’d have to wait while I got ready at home and then give me a ride to the office. And I’d still be stuck with no vehicle.”

  “Much of town might still be closed up, digging themselves out. But hey, I threw some of Mama’s frozen cinnamon rolls in the oven for breakfast.”

  The promise of decent food lightened her step as they headed back to the house. He ate with her and headed out to the shop after she offered to clean up.

  Figuring she’d just watch a movie or something afterward, he was surprised when the side entrance door opened and Elle strolled in. She wore another sweatshirt and shorts of his and her boots.

  “Aren’t you cold?” His mind wandered—bra and underwear, or had she gone without?

  Shrugging, she wandered around and studied all the equipment. “A little. I thought it might be warmer in here.”

  “There’s no wind in here, but no sunshine, either.”

  “Can I look through these?” Her hands drifted over the drawers to his chest tool box.

  He set the busted scoop bucket tooth down. It’d get welded back on, but not when he could spend time with Elle. “Want to see the place?”

  “I don’t want to bother you.”

  “You’re never a bother.” Taking her hand, he led her to the tractor he hauled snow with. “You saw the big beast that got vandalized. We plow with that one. That’s why the tractor’s so large, we need a lot of power. This one,” he patted the hood of the one they stood next to, “is the workhorse of the yard. Sitting next to it is the attachment to do the majority of the lawn mowing.”

  “I suppose you don’t push mow this much acreage?”

  He grinned. “Oh we do that, too. I don’t want to scrape this baby against the house’s siding, and it doesn’t get between the trees well.” He continued around, pointing out the various attachments for the yard tractor. “We can also rake ditches with it.” At her blank expression, he elaborated. “Mow down a ditch, then rake the clippings into windrows to dry out before bailing.”

  Elle scrunched her nose at all the equipment. “It’s like a whole new language.”

  “A boring language?”

  “I don’t think anything you do is boring.”

  “Then I won’t tell you about the seventh day in a row I’m by myself in a tractor cab. Thank God for podcasts.” Gesturing to the medium-sized red tractor, he continued. “That one doesn’t get used as much, but this is her season. Travis is storing bags of seed that we’ll load ’er up with for planting. Travis has a similar model he and Aaron use to plant and haul bales with.”

  “You don’t have anything that’s a one job wonder?”

  “Some guys get all the newest models, swear by all the gadgets, but our parents were savvy. The least amount of equipment to do the most work, and use it until it dies or it’s more expensive to keep running. We can’t control the weather, so we need to work smart in every other aspect.”

  “Where’s all the other farming equipment? I at least know what a combine looks like and I don’t see one.”

  “My shop is the only thing I have that’s too small.” He winked and won a blush. “Aaron and Travis have more acreage to house grain bins and multiple shops for the combines. My patch of land was a tiny, old farmstead before Gramps got a hold of it. The farmhouse was torn down when my dad decided to move out there.”

  “Too expensive to keep it going?”

  His brows drew together. “Good question. Probably fell into disrepair and became a money pit. I guess Gram encouraged them to tear it down. That’s all, little lady,” he said in his best John Wayne impersonation.

  Shivering and hugging her arms around herself, she looked around. “I guess I’d better get inside. Unless,” she gave him a saucy look that made his manhood come to attention, “I can bother you with one more thing.”

  “Any. Time.”

  Stepping out of her boots, she dropped the shorts and stepped out of them, too. He lifted her against the bench before her feet got cold and dirty. Holding her steady, he wrestled with unzipping his coveralls, but she pitched in and they quickly freed him enough to impale her.

  And Dillon got yet another taste of how good having Elle around could be.

  ***

  The plows had rumbled down the road while they’d been eating dinner, but Dillon had recommended letting them dry first. She’d waited until midafternoon before broaching the topic of her leaving.

  “You call when you get home.” Dillon pressed her against her car and stole a kiss.

  “I promise.”

  Dressed back in her work clothes from Wednesday, she was ready to brave the mucky road and head back to town. Her first stop would be to check on her dad, but she needed to extract herself from Dillon first.

  She needed to want to extract herself from him. She’d had more sex in the last three days than the last couple of years combined. Anytime she wanted, he was ready. Anytime he gave her that look, the one with the hooded eyes and suggestive tilt to his full mouth, her clothes peeled themselves off.

  She gave him one last nip on his lower lip and opened her door. “Good-bye, Dillon.”

  “Call me, Elle.” He said it like he worried she was driving out of his life.

  He wasn’t the only one.

  She drove away with him standing in her rearview mirror.

  The roads were as bad as he’d said. She used all of Dillon’s tips for driving on sloppy gravel. Twice, the mud almost won, pulling her car into the pile of snow on the side of the road. But she let off the gas for a second and resisted pulling the wheel sharply in the other direction.

  The sound it made when she turned onto the highway was like dozens of tennis balls hitting the body of her car. In both side mirrors, clumps of mud flew off the tires all over the road. Her car must weigh at least two hundred more pounds with all the grit caked on it. The gas station on the edge of town was open twenty-four hours; she’d stop for a quick wash.

  The spray took off at least a hundred pounds, but her car still left thick tracks pulling away from the gas station. It would have to do; she needed to check on her dad. She had missed a
call from the nursing home while washing her car.

  When she reached the nursing home, she stopped at the office before going to her dad’s room.

  “Hey, Elle. Sorry to bother you.” The charge nurse beckoned her in to speak in private. “We just wanted to give you a head’s up that the doctor cut down your dad’s pain meds and he’s not happy about it.”

  Blood drained from Elle’s face. The reality she’d been escaping from for the past three days crashed back into her life.

  Once an addict, always an addict.

  “He was abusing them.” It was a statement not a question.

  Wanda nodded. “Given his history and how well he’s recovered from the surgery…” She spread her hands. “He was past the point of requiring them, especially at the dose he insisted on.”

  “I understand. Thanks for letting me know.” Woodenly, she walked to her dad’s room, dreading the tirade of how unfair everything was, and how unreasonable people could be, and how he was a damn adult.

  “Elle.” Her dad’s greeting was pleasant enough. It always was. “Did Battle-axe Wanda call?”

  And it started.

  ***

  Elle parked at the end of her driveway and groaned. Thank you friendly neighbors for not doing a damn thing. She didn’t want to be dependent on other people, but a nice gesture would have been welcome after the conversation with her dad.

  Wrestling on her boots, she hit the button to open her garage door and climbed out. Trudging through the mess, she was glad much of it had melted, but now that it was evening, the temperature was dropping. The snow was getting hard and crunchy, requiring extra muscle to hack through it and push it off the concrete. Work that should’ve invigorated her only dragged her further under a haggard daze.

  Working up a sweat, she unzipped her jacket. From the way her shirt stuck to her stomach, she’d need a shower. A warm bath might be more in line with the mental place she loitered in.

  She called the driveway good enough after an hour and trudged inside. While running the water in the tub, her phone rang. She contemplated ignoring it, dreading it was the nursing home again and her father was pissed he wasn’t getting his narcotics. Always so responsible.