“Stop.” Luis tried to put command into his voice.
She fought harder, and Jeffry finally shook her. “Stop it, Lacey,” he murmured in her ear. “Fight’s over.” He held tight until she finally gave up. Tears filled her eyes.
“Take her home,” Luis said wearily.
Jeffry nodded and spun Lacey, walking her toward the cars. She stumbled against him, but the fight had gone out of her.
Luis slowly turned around.
Tears poured down Mallory’s face, and shock filled her eyes. “I’m just like my dad,” she whispered.
The words were a punch to the gut. Mal’s dad was a mean drunk who hit his wife. “No, you’re not.” Luis reached out and tried to wipe off her face, but her tears kept coming. “You don’t get drunk, and you’d never hit anybody smaller than you.”
“I shouldn’t hit anybody ever,” she said, her voice breaking.
He tried to tug her into him, but she pushed him away. “I have to go.” She turned in the sand and all but ran up the embankment toward the cars.
His legs itched with the need to run after her, but he’d pushed her around enough for a lifetime. He couldn’t ever remind her of her jerk of a father, and he never wanted to use his strength against her except to protect her. How had things become so mixed up? With a groan, he dropped back onto his seat as the party resumed around him. Almost absently, he picked up his half-full cup of White Lightning.
What the hell. He tipped back the drink and tried to fill the emptiness inside him.
CHAPTER 2
Brittany Rush leaned against her car in the parking lot of Murphy’s Pub, her entire body going into overdrive the moment Marcus Alvarez parked his car across the lot. He stretched out, and the second his gaze landed on her, a masculine grin lifted his lips.
Lips that had been on hers not too long ago, making her feel things she’d never felt before with any other guy.
She crossed her arms and pushed from her vehicle.
He lost the smile. With a barely discernable tilt of his head, he headed for her, his long strides quickly eating up the distance. “Something up, princess?”
“Dick,” she breathed before thinking.
His upper lip quirked. “Care to expand on that?”
Anger roared through her so quickly her head heated. “You. Are. A. Dick.”
He lifted a shoulder, too much amusement in his dark eyes. “I’ve been called worse, but never by somebody so pretty.”
Oh, his condescension was about to get him kicked in the balls. She shifted her weight.
He must’ve read something in her face, because he lost the attitude, his hands going up in placation. “Your text just said to meet you here, and I didn’t even know something was wrong.” Slowly, he reached out and pushed a wayward curl away from her cheek. “What did I do?”
Hurt exploded in her. “You failed to mention you were leaving and going back to Montana.”
His breath caught, moving his chest. “Oh.” He grimaced and ran a hand through his thick hair. “Yeah, I suck.” He tucked both hands into his pockets, his eyes somehow darkening further. “I promised to go back before I got here, and before you and I, well, I mean…”
Her eyes actually stung, but she wouldn’t cry in front of him. “Great.”
He shook his head. “I hadn’t expected you.”
Oh. She wet her lips. What did that mean? “Whatever.”
He reached out to set both hands on her hips. “Listen. I should’ve told you, and I’m sorry I didn’t¸ but I’ve had so much fun with you that I didn’t want to think about leaving.”
His sincerity melted through her. “I get that.” For now, she allowed his hands to remain on her. “But what does that mean for us?”
He studied her and then shrugged. “I really don’t know, but I’d like to find out. See what we could be.”
The words eased the pain inside her chest. Was there a chance he’d stay? If her life in politics had taught her anything, it was to never push an issue. Not one that mattered. “So we jump in with both feet?”
“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaning back. “How about we keep exploring a little bit and see where we end up? Nothing is set in stone.”
She smiled, hope unfurling. Maybe he’d stay in Texas. “That seems fair. You owe me a drink, I believe.”
He pulled her into his side and turned them toward the pub. “At least one.”
* * * *
Patrick Murphy kicked back in the booth, feeling as empty as the beer mug in front of him. At almost midnight, a nice and rather mellow crowd hung out in Murphy’s Pub, most people somewhat coupled off. Not him. “I’m a lone wolf,” he muttered, jumping when his mom slid another Guinness in front of him and kept on walking by to clear a table by the door.
The chatter of family and friends around him was as familiar as the smell of beer, oiled wood, and peanut dust. He was home.
He sipped the potent brew, his gaze lingering on the couples. His older brother, Dillon, helped out behind the bar on his night off from being sheriff. That way, from what Patrick could tell, Dillon could keep an eye on Joanne Alvarez, who sat quietly in the corner with a friend sipping a Cosmo. Dillon had recently run Joanne’s husband, a guy who beat her mercilessly, out of town.
If they ever got together and she found out, she was gonna be pissed. Or, well, perhaps she wouldn’t be so mad considering her gaze kept roaming right toward Dillon.
Patrick’s younger brother, Logan, sat on a barstool next to the pregnant Ginny Moreno. The baby’s father had died in a car crash earlier in the spring, and now Logan and Ginny were starting something up.
A chill skittered down Patrick’s spine. There were rumors about whether or not she’d named the real father, but he wouldn’t listen to rumors. He’d back his brother.
Next to Logan, his best friend, Marcus Alvarez, sipped a beer, kept an eye on his mom, and flirted outrageously with Brittany Rush. Marcus was from the wrong side of the tracks, and Brittany was pretty much town royalty, so hey, that wasn’t going to go south or anything.
Patrick sat up straighter as his mom slid into the booth beside him. “Keeping watch?” she murmured, her gaze going to the bar.
He nodded. “Yep. Have you ever just sensed the calm before a storm?”
She sighed, her blue eyes clouding. “Yes.”
“Well, I’d like to take the storm away from here, but I don’t think it’s going to give us much warning.” He took another drink and let the potent brew warm his belly.
His aunt Alice slipped into the booth on his other side, a glass of Harp in her hand. “Is Patrick watching over the family?” she asked her sister, ducking her head to survey the entire bar. As the elementary school principal, she had a way of seeing everything and everyone.
“Yes.” His mom patted his arm, her small hand looking frail. “You always were my observant one, Patrick, and it’s so sweet you’re watching over your brothers.”
Yeah, that was him. Sweet. His brothers might be heading toward the eye of the hurricane, all of them, but at least they were going forward. On the other hand, he was sitting alone in a bar booth near midnight having a nice chat with his mother and her sixty-year-old sister. “They’ll be okay.” He gave his mom the answer she needed.
“What about you?” she asked.
He sighed. “I’ll be okay, too.”
His mom cleared her throat. “Honey? Why are you here alone instead of out with Marisol tonight?” Aunt Alice turned to look down her nose at him and wait for an answer.
Because Marisol had to work and take care of her siblings, and she didn’t want or need any help doing so. “She’s busy.”
“She needs you,” Alice murmured.
“Marisol doesn’t need anybody.” And that was the rub. He was a guy who got things done, and he liked helping out. He liked figuring out problems, and he had a good head for it, which is why he’d become an EMT. Give him a crisis and he was the guy. “She definitely doesn’t n
eed me.” They’d been friends forever, and he wanted more. A lot more.
His mom sighed. “Any woman would be lucky to have you, sweetheart. I think Marisol needs you, but she has so much going on, you know? It’s hard to just stop and look around when you’re in full motion. She quit college to take care of her siblings when their parents died.” Her gaze moved to the pregnant Ginny Moreno, who was Marisol’s younger sister. “She’s such a saint.”
She didn’t kiss like a saint. Nope. Marisol Moreno kissed like a full-blooded woman who wanted to sin with the right guy—and damned if Patrick didn’t want to be that man. Hell, his entire body tightened each time he thought about his lips over hers.
The door banged open, and Dakota Alvarez stormed into the bar. She wore a tight see-through shirt showing a bra that pushed up impressive looking breasts, a whole lot of makeup, and a skirt short enough Patrick could see a flash of red panties.
He watched as Joanne took in her daughter with wide eyes, and a scowl crossed Marcus’s face when he saw his sister. Both of them pushed away from their seats.
“She is such trouble,” his mom murmured quietly.
Yeah, but a whole world of hurt lived in her big, brown eyes. Patrick wondered why nobody else could see it. He made to move from the booth and intercede.
His mom stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I know you’re the mediator around here, but I think you should let her family handle the situation.”
It looked like the woman needed somebody in her corner, but his mom was right. It wasn’t his place.
Dakota put both hands on her hips and surveyed the bar at large, her gaze stopping at Patrick, and then moving on. “Has anybody seen my dad?”
She looked tough and pissed, but her voice quavered. Every other night or so, she did the rounds of bars in the area looking for her dad, who was long gone by now. Hopefully.
Joanne reached her and grasped her arm, her eyes worried. “Dakota, he’s gone. Let’s go get coffee.”
Dakota jerked free. “He left because of you.”
Joanne paled, and Dillon crossed around the bar.
Marcus shook his head at Dillon and approached his sister. “This isn’t the time or place. Let’s go.”
“You don’t understand,” Dakota all but yelled. “He left because of her. It’s her fault.”
Marcus spun her around toward the door. “You’re done now.”
She pulled free. “I’m an adult, Marcus. Fuck off.”
“Then act like an adult and wear some clothes,” Marcus threw back, his lips tight. “You look like a—”
“Marcus.” His mom stopped his words cold.
“Like what?” Dakota turned around and advanced on her brother, fury bursting across her pretty face. “What?”
He glanced down at her short skirt. “Like a cheap whore.”
Gasps echoed from down the bar.
“I wish you would’ve stayed in Montana,” Dakota yelled, turning on a high red heel and stomping back outside.
Joanne went to follow her, and Marcus stopped her with a hand around her elbow. “Let her go. She’s mad and needs to cool off.”
“I want to go home,” Joanne said, her lip trembling.
Marcus nodded and slipped an arm around her shoulder. “I’ll take you home, Mom.” Glancing to the side, he nodded at Brittany. “I’ll be back in ten.”
The sweet blonde nodded and stayed perched on her stool as Marcus helped his mom out the door.
Patrick kept his eye on Dillon, not liking the frustration etched across his face. Yep, there was definitely a storm coming.
But for now, he had to work early in the morning and needed to get home. Tipping back the rest of his beer, he scooted from the booth and placed his glass on the counter. His mom followed him, and after giving her a peck on the cheek and waving to his family, he loped out the door. Might as well get some sleep while he could.
He jumped into his Dodge pickup and swung out of the lot, heading down Cedar Street and out of town. The night was calm with a brilliant display of stars glimmering high above. He drove quietly, his mind turning over problems ranging from his brothers’ love lives to his own. If he were in a different place with Marisol, he’d drop by her house for a tangle or at least a couple of kisses. Instead, he drove toward his home near the lake.
Something caught his eye, a glint of metal up ahead, and he slowed down.
An older Jeep Cherokee edged off the side of the road, its front in a series of bushes, its tail lights glowing a bright red. The driver’s door was open, and the interior lights showed an empty seat. Crap. It was Luis Moreno’s car.
Patrick pulled over and jumped from the truck. “Luis?”
The sound of retching echoed back from the other side of the vehicle.
His heartbeat kicking up, Patrick hustled around the rear of the Jeep to see Luis bent over, puking up his guts. The stench of vomit and alcohol slammed into him, and he coughed, partially turning away. “Luis?”
Luis finished throwing up and slowly straightened, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of a dark T-shirt. “I’m dying,” he gasped, turning around, tears in his eyes.
Patrick bit back a laugh. “What did you drink?”
“White Lightning.” Luis hiccupped.
Patrick sobered and moved toward the kid, lowering his head. “How much?” The stuff was 200 proof, and it could kill.
“Only a couple of drinks, but it was e-e-nough.” Luis turned and vomited again.
Patrick swiped both hands down his face. “And you tried to drive?” Anger began to filter through his veins.
Luis nodded and turned back around. “Home isn’t far.”
“You dipshit.” Patrick lost any sense of sympathy. “Your sister is dealing with Ginny being pregnant, with running the bakery, and with pretty much being perfect, and you go and try to get yourself killed?” His voice rose on the end.
Luis hung his head. “I wasn’t thinking. Mallory hates me.”
Patrick closed his eyes, trying for patience. Of course it was about a girl. Wasn’t it always about a girl? He sighed and reopened his eyes. “Get in my truck. If you’re gonna puke again, jump out.”
Luis staggered and looked at his Jeep. “I can’t leave—”
“Get in the truck or I’m calling my brother to come help. You know? My brother Dillon? The sheriff?”
Luis winced and turned to stumble toward the truck.
Shaking his head, Patrick strode around and jumped into the Jeep to turn it parallel to the road and lock it up. It’d be safe enough for the night.
He took the keys and hustled back to slide into his truck. Luis sat quietly, his head back, his eyes closed. Patrick slid down the windows to help with the stink. “Your sister is going to kill you.” Yeah, he was feeling sympathy again.
“Don’t tell her. Please don’t tell her,” Luis begged, not opening his eyes.
“Okay,” Patrick said easily. “I won’t say a word.” He bit back a grin. Then he cleared his voice. “Want to tell me why you’re ruining a perfectly good liver over a girl?” Not that he hadn’t just been doing the same thing.
Luis shrugged. “I love Mallory Alvarez. Lacey Salt made a pass at me, tried to get naked, and I kissed her. But I stopped. I really stopped. But Mal found out, and now she just wants to be friends.”
Ah, hell. Patrick didn’t want to overstep any bounds with Marisol, but the kid sounded desperate. “Does Mallory believe you?”
“Yes,” Luis sighed. “And she didn’t like it tonight when Lacey started flirting with me.”
“I’m the last guy you should probably take advice from, but it sounds like you just need to romance Mallory a little. Flowers and cupcakes.” Patrick rubbed his chin. Ah, to be back in high school again. Then he’d know what to do.
Luis leaned forward, his hand on his gut. “You think?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.” He shivered. “You’re totally into my sister, huh?”
Patrick blinked. “Yeah.”
>
“That’s cool.”
Was it? Too bad Marisol didn’t think so. Enough of the feeling sorry for himself crap. They entered the residential area, and he pulled into the driveway of a tiny but well maintained bungalow. A porch light was on, and the second gravel crunched under his tires, Marisol threw open the door.
Light framed her from behind. She wore yoga pants and a threadbare T-shirt decorated with a faded picture of the Cookie Monster eating several snickerdoodles.
As Patrick jumped from the truck, he had the oddest thought that the Monster only liked chocolate chip.
Luis dropped out of the passenger side and kept on going until he hit the gravel.
Marisol cried out and ran from the porch, her dark hair flying behind her.
Patrick reached him first and yanked him up. “He’s fine.”
Marisol skidded to a stop with a wince. “He is not fine. Luis?”
Luis tried to straighten up. “I’m, er, fine, sis.” His voice slurred the entire sentence.
She reared back. “You’re drunk?”
Nope. Patrick hadn’t had to say a word, just like he’d promised.
Luis swayed. “No. I’m, ah…”
“Drunk,” Marisol spat, her eyes wide. “Are you kidding me? Did you drive?”
Patrick winced. “Let’s get him into bed before he passes out, shall we?” They’d have to keep an eye on the kid through the night, but it was unlikely he’d sipped enough to have alcohol poisoning.
Marisol nodded, her bare feet scrunching in the gravel.
Patrick bit back annoyance. “Get inside before you cut your feet, Marisol. I’ve got Luis.”
She shook her head, reaching for her brother.
“Now.” Patrick was done playing nice.
She jerked, and her mouth dropped open as she looked at him. Yeah. He’d never been anything but cajoling and gentle with her, and so far, that hadn’t worked any. If the woman thought he was going to sit there and watch her cut her feet up for no reason, she didn’t know him at all.
With a huff that was nothing short of adorable, she turned and jumped onto the grass before stomping for the porch.
Take the Storm: Episode 6 Page 2
