by T. J. Kline
“Don’t act like you know me.”
“You just wanted to prove to the teacher and the admin that you could do it, right? That they’d underestimated you.”
Jude looked up, meeting Gage’s gaze with apprehension. He suddenly looked like the lost sixteen-year-old kid he was instead of the hard-ass he wanted everyone to think he was.
Gage moved closer, recognizing the struggle of a kid as bright as he’d been in school. “So, school is boring and teachers just can’t teach to your level, right?”
Jude didn’t answer, but he also didn’t walk away. “And you don’t even bother to do the homework, because it’s as simple as basic addition.”
“I’m in all advanced courses, and I feel like a freak because everyone around me keeps saying how hard the work is.” He crossed his arms over the metal railings of the corral panels and leaned his chin against his forearms. “But it’s not and they look at me weird when I say it.”
Gage took a step closer, standing beside Jude, and hung his wrists over the railing. “So, you don’t even bother doing the work anymore, right? Inside you want so much more than just existing, but there’s nothing you can do on the outside.”
“Only when our foster mom notices.” Jude didn’t say anything for a while. He just continued to stare at the horses. “How’d you know?”
Gage inhaled deeply, letting out his breath on a sigh. “Would you believe I was just like you?” He turned to face Jude. “Except I kept it on the right side of the law.”
Jude glared at him, but there was little venom left in him now. He looked like a kid who wanted to believe in someone but had been burned too many times to trust anyone.
“I kept focused on school and grades, proving how smart I was. Following all the rules.” Gage saw the corner of Jude’s mouth lift slightly as he tried to hold back a smile. “In college, I found a great friend, George. We decided to start working together on programming. We wanted to show the world what we could do.”
Gage shook his head, thinking back at how idealistic he and George had been. They wanted to make a difference, to reach the stars. They’d been naive enough to think that money and power wouldn’t change them, or their ideas.
“Did you?”
Jude’s question jolted him back to the present, to the circumstances he now faced: turn his back on George or fight the money and power they’d let control their business.
“We did, for a while. Now some people who decided it was better to ignore the rules are trying to ruin us.”
Jude clenched his jaw and shook his head. “That’s pretty fucked up.”
Gage arched a brow at the kid’s expletive but didn’t say anything. He felt the same way. It was fucked up. To watch everything you’d believed in and worked for slipping through your hands.
“How do you think the school felt? You broke into their system, changed anything you wanted, and made them feel like fools. Even worse, instead of proving how smart you were, you just made them feel unsafe with you, like they couldn’t trust you.”
“But they won’t forget me, either.”
Maybe that was the point, for Jude to make his mark, but Gage read more into the comment. Maybe it was really a cry to have someone make him feel important, unforgettable.
LEAH LOOKED TOWARD the voices she heard coming from the corral. Part of her had wanted to get up and follow Jude, to explain to him how he could better focus his attention to stay out of trouble, how he didn’t have to change his personality but simply his perspective. Instead, she’d watched Gage follow him, keeping her eyes on the pair as they talked. The last time they’d talked it had turned into a shouting match, but this time, they seemed to reach some sort of understanding.
Gage moved closer to Jude, and she saw the boy’s stance relax slightly. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could see that Jude was listening, taking in what Gage was saying to him, and that, alone, might be more than she could do at this point. He needed someone to reach him, and Gage was a good role model, better than she was.
Cody, Hector, and Miguel plied her with questions about her past, her experiences in foster care and how she’d managed to go to college after graduating. She’d answered them as honestly as possible without going into too many details that no one needed to know.
As the fire blazed bright in the darkening sky, the boys set up their sleeping bags behind the logs, close enough for warmth while still being protected from sparks from the fire. She moved closer to the railing that marked the edge of the cliff, overlooking the river that cut a path through the meadow below.
Pine trees scented the air, circling the ridge like sentinels, and the soft gurgle of the water flowing over the rocks below was soothing. She glanced back at the soft snap of twigs underfoot and saw Jessie walking toward her.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Would you have hired me if you knew?” Leah felt bad for keeping the truth from Jessie and Nathan, but she’d wanted this job—needed it—too much to risk being passed over due to a past she couldn’t change.
“I already knew some of it. I just didn’t expect you to talk about it.”
Leah looked at her in surprise. “Really?”
Jessie laughed quietly. “Haven’t you figured out yet that Heart Fire isn’t like most places? Broken people fit in here, Leah. Maybe that’s why I was drawn to your application from the start.”
Leah looked at the river below, shrouded in darkness, avoiding the sympathy she could see in Jessie’s gaze. “I’m not broken. Not anymore.”
A warm hand fell softly onto her shoulder and squeezed slightly. “We’re all broken, Leah, just in varying degrees. That’s what makes us human. That’s why we need other people.”
Leah kept her eyes trained on the landscape in front of her as Jessie walked away, feeling more secure in her position at the ranch but less confident about the illusion she’d wanted to portray. She wondered for a moment how Jessie would react if she knew all the sordid details of her past. Would they still want her working for them? Would she still be so understanding?
She shook herself from her reverie as Gage appeared beside her, his hands hanging loosely over the railing. She hadn’t even heard him approach. “I have to admit I’m a little surprised by how much you admitted to those boys,” he said.
She forced herself not to look at him. Even with more than a foot between them, she could feel the heat coming from his body, as if he was a bonfire on his own. And that was the problem. Getting too close to Gage was going to end with her getting burned.
“They needed to hear it, to know they weren’t alone here.”
His hand slid to the side and covered hers, his fingers twisting through hers, and she stared at their hands. His was large, engulfing her smaller one as the firelight played over them. However, it was gentle in spite of the size and strength of it. She flipped her hand over so that their palms were together. For such an innocent touch, it felt incredibly intimate when Gage’s thumb stroked the side of hers. Leah looked up at his face, lit only from the dying bonfire, shadows and light playing over his cheekbones and eyes.
“Gage,” she whispered in warning, but she didn’t remove her hand from his. She couldn’t deny herself his touch, any more than she could convince the warmth emanating from his body not to seep into hers. Or maybe this was some wildfire he’d ignited within her, sending waves down her body to nestle low in her belly.
Gage let go of her hand, and she felt a moment of disappointment until he stepped behind her, surrounding her with his body and curving his arms around her. “I know, just friends.” His chin rested on her shoulder as her brain ceased to function. “I just wanted to let you know you did great with those boys today.”
His breath was warm against her neck, and her traitorous body responded of its own volition, leaning back against his chest, letting the burn rage out of control.
“Jessie is lucky she found you.” His lips found a spot behind her ear and brushed against it, barely car
essing the flesh as he spoke, sending a shiver of yearning through her body. She dug her fingers into the railing of the fence. “You should be proud of yourself.”
“Gage.”
This time her voice barely came out as a whisper of sound, a plea on her breath, begging him. But she didn’t know what she was begging for. Her body ached for him to touch her, to kiss her again the way he had in the early morning hours, but her mind was ordering her to get as far from him as possible. Her heart was caught in the middle. She liked him too much to push him away, but she was too afraid of the hurt he would bring to let him any closer.
His hands moved over hers on the railing, and he pried her fingers loose, twining their fingers and wrapping his arms around her again. “Leah, I won’t hurt you.”
“Yes, you will.” She dropped her head forward. “You aren’t staying.”
His lips found the outer shell of her ear. “What if I did?” Gage slid the tip of his nose behind her ear, his lips sending jolts of white-hot lightning through her body.
She sighed, frustrated with him and herself for feeling torn. “I don’t do relationships.”
Gage chuckled quietly against her neck, dropping his chin to her shoulder. “Have you ever tried?”
He let go of one of her hands and ran a finger over the line of her jaw, gently turning her face toward him. His voice was a gravelly sound, making parts of her body throb. “You’re asking those kids to step outside the box people have placed them in, to figure out another way to live the lives they have. Shouldn’t you be willing to do the same?”
His lips hung just above hers. If she tipped her head even slightly, she could taste him again. And she wanted to, damn it. Every part of her body was practically crying out to be kissed by him again. But Gage wasn’t moving any further. He’d conceded as far as he was willing. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she was certain he was waiting for her to meet him halfway, to commit to wanting this from him. He wouldn’t take a kiss, he wanted her to give it.
“Do you trust me?”
His words were a plea, whispering over her. She could feel his breath, moist and sweet, against her neck. It surprised her that after only a short time with him, she did trust him. She didn’t want to trust him, but she did. Her life had been simple without the complication of friendships or lovers, but somehow this man had wormed his way past her usual impenetrable defenses.
“Yes.” Saying the word aloud was almost painful, but it felt right. It was something she needed to do, and in that moment, Leah felt like she’d just taken a giant step away from her past and toward her freedom. “I do,” she reiterated.
She stood on her toes, brushing her lips against his tentatively, unable to curb the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. “But I still have a job to do tonight, and you’re distracting me.”
Leah took a step backward, trying to put some space between them so she could think, but Gage pulled her close again, his palm cupping her jaw. She sucked in a quick breath just before his mouth slanted over hers. This time the kiss wasn’t a sweet caress but a heated fusion. His groan rumbled against her chest, pressed against his, as his tongue sought hers in a duel that left her limbs languid and weak, swaying into him for support. He withdrew slowly, making sure she could stand on her own, but it was still too soon.
“Go do your job. We’ll talk tomorrow when we get back.”
Chapter Sixteen
LEAH CRACKED OPEN one eye and groaned as she pressed her toes into the end of her sleeping bag. Every muscle in her body ached again, but this time it was from sleeping on the ground, not the horseback riding. Even the foam pad Nathan had laid out under her sleeping bag hadn’t helped much. If she was going to be doing this on a regular basis, she was going to need to figure out a way to make it more comfortable. She shivered as the cold morning air sliced through the padded bag. Tugging it up and over her nose, she debated whether it was worth freezing for the time it took to move closer to the fire she could see Jessie feeding back to life.
“Morning,” Jessie said quietly. “I already have some coffee made if you’re ready for it.”
“You are a saint.” That was enough temptation to draw Leah from her cocoon of warmth. She reached for one of the foam cups Jessie had set out beside a camp stove. “Do you always get up this early?”
Jessie smiled but kept her attention building the fire. “I’m always up early to get the horses fed, so this isn’t atypical.” She jerked her chin at the horses munching contentedly in the corral. “We’ll let the boys sleep for a bit. Nathan will fix breakfast, so it’ll be ready when they wake.”
Leah snapped the lid onto her cup and took a sip, letting the coffee warm her from the inside out.
“What can I do to help?” She looked around at the camping equipment and realized she had no idea what to do with any of the items on the ground. She couldn’t even tell what most of them were. “I’m feeling pretty useless at this point.”
“Don’t worry, you’ve got your work cut out for you today. What you did last night with them was a great start. They opened up to you because you connected with them.” Jessie cut a glance in her direction, and Leah knew what was coming next. “You know, if you need to talk about anything . . . ”
Leah couldn’t imagine anything good that would come from telling Jessie about the payments that had been extracted from her for her mother’s addiction. Even when faced with the emotional and physical scars she’d suffered, too many people had turned a blind eye and returned her to the very birthplace of her nightmares. No one wanted to see the truth. Talking about it now would only cause her to relive it.
Hard pass.
“Jessie, I understand if what I said last night makes you nervous, but realize that I’ve been through years of therapy.” At least that much was true. “I’ve dealt with my past, and with help, those wounds were healed a long time ago.” Leah prayed the blatant lie didn’t show in her expression, that it wasn’t flashing like a neon sign across her forehead.
Liar. Slut.
“What happened was bad enough that I don’t want to let it impact my future any more than it already has.”
Jessie nodded and glanced at Nathan, sliding out of his sleeping bag slowly. “Okay, but if you ever want to talk, about this or anything else, you can talk to me, Leah. I’d like to be your friend, not just your boss.”
Fat chance, she thought, biting the corner of her lip.
Regardless of how much she liked Jessie and Nathan, they still employed her, paid her bills, and had the final say as to whether she stayed or went. Unless they had equal footing, which they never would as long as she worked at Heart Fire, they could never be real friends. There would always be a line in the sand.
“I appreciate that.” Leah turned away as Jessie greeted her husband. She found herself walking back to the lookout area, tucking her free hand into the sleeve of her sweatshirt to stay warm.
As uncomfortable and out-of-place as she felt camping, she loved the tranquility of this place. Birds began to chatter in the trees, their warbling songs making the boys groan in protest, but she inhaled the sharp, clean scent of pine on the crisp air, making her nose tingle from the cold. Movement along the river caught her eye, and she watched several deer creep closer to the water for a drink. She’d never seen a deer in person. While the antlers were impressive, the animals were smaller than she’d thought they would be—smaller than the horses—and far more delicate boned; they moved with dainty grace.
“I must have died and gone to heaven in my sleep. Are you my personal angel?” Gage’s voice was warm and seductive, like a caress or a sweet kiss, and it filled her with contentment.
Leah turned to see him approaching with his own coffee, steam spilling out of the small hole on top, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through her at his words.
“Ugh! That was awful, Gage.” Jessie groaned from near the fire, drawing a chuckle from Nathan. “Are you still doing that? Give the stupid pickup lines a rest already. Th
ey don’t work.”
Nathan chuckled. “I told you, Gage.”
The hell they don’t.
Leah hid her smile by taking a sip of her brew as Gage bumped her with a hip. “Maybe my intention was to make Leah smile. And, there,” he said smugly, pointing at her. “Mission accomplished.”
Jessie rolled her eyes. “That’s probably a pity smile because she thinks you’re pathetically cheesy.” She left the fire and shook one of the boys gently. “Time to get up, guys.”
Leah laughed quietly at the protests coming from behind the log barrier, along with several requests for five more minutes.
“How’d you sleep?”
Gage’s words were an innocent inquiry, but they felt more like an intimate suggestion. “I think sleeping on the ground is going to take some getting used to.”
“It’s not high on my list of things I love to do, but it’s almost worth it for this view.” He moved behind her, looking out over the terrain spread out in front of them, rubbing a hand over her arm when she shivered. “Cold?”
“A little,” she admitted. Leah glanced back at the fire where Jessie was unconvincingly pretending to ignore them. “I was going to move back to the fire but then I saw them.” She pointed her fisted hand at the deer by the water.
“Look at all of them.”
Gage’s voice held the same wonder she felt as he followed her gaze. Without warning, he wound his free arm around her waist, the heat of his body warming her back. When another shiver traveled down her spine, she knew it wasn’t from the cold this time. As much as she wanted to freeze this moment, to allow him to hold her while they watched the sunrise through the hills and savor his touch, Leah was here to do a job, and that meant maintaining a professional appearance to her boss and the boys she could hear climbing out of their sleeping bags.
“Gage,” she whispered, slipping from his grasp, “I can’t. Not with everyone here.”
His eyes lit with amusement, but he moved to one side. “But you want to.”
