by Anna Argent
He gave her a look like she’d grown a second head.
“Seriously. Here you are, all sad and lonely. I hunted you down and refused to leave you alone. I used my feminine wiles to seduce you. Maybe you’re the victim.”
His tone told her just how ridiculous that idea was. “Daisy.…”
“Or, you know, maybe no one has to be a victim. Maybe we can just be two grown people who care about each other who got caught up in a moment.”
He touched her cheek, sliding one finger along her skin.
Her body responded instantly, trembling under the touch of the man she loved.
Daisy closed her eyes before he could see how she felt about him.
His voice was low and filled with a deep ache. “You are such an amazing woman. I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.”
Friend.
There it was. A single word in all its disappointing lameness.
Of course that’s how he saw her. Of course sex hadn’t changed that for him. He was still the same Mark he’d been two hours ago—the same one who was still so in love with his dead fiancée that he couldn’t imagine Daisy being anything else but a friend.
She was such a fool. Mom had been right. Being here was dangerous to Daisy’s heart. No matter how much she wanted things to be different, Mark would never feel about her the way she felt about him. All sex had done was give her a taste of what she could never really have.
And now that she’d had it, she didn’t know how she was going to ever be satisfied with anything less.
As the crushing weight of her new reality fell over her, she felt the need to escape. As much as she wanted to be here to support Mark, she couldn’t stay. She couldn’t tear herself apart by being close to him and knowing their relationship would never be what she wanted.
She’d find someone else to come and watch over him—help him finish the house. But she couldn’t stay.
It wasn’t safe to travel the steep, windy roads at night, but as soon as dawn broke, Daisy was leaving.
★★★
Mark stared at the ceiling over his air mattress, reliving every vivid detail of sex with Daisy. The more he thought about it, the more he knew that, mistake or not, he could never regret it.
He hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed that kind of intimate closeness with another living soul until he’d had it again. Somehow, she had breathed a breath of life into a part of him that he’d thought dead. It was still on life support, but at least now there was hope.
He was still capable of caring—capable of deep, meaningful emotion that wasn’t all rage, grief and guilt. He still had a fundamental spark of something left flickering, and he desperately wanted that flame to grow.
His cock was hard and aching from the memory of earlier tonight with her, but even more than that, his heart ached. He’d seen the moment she’d closed him off—the moment his utterance of the “f” word ruined everything.
Friends.
It was such an inadequate word for how he felt about her, but any other description was far too terrifying to even contemplate.
Even if he couldn’t love her, she deserved more than a quick fuck against a tree.
If he’d been any other man, he would have gone to her while she slept and made love her the way she deserved. He would have taken his time and shown her that her pleasure was more important than his own. He would have treated her with care and respect and shown her just how much she meant to him.
But he wasn’t another man. He was stuck with his life and his choices, both good and bad.
He heard her shuffling around downstairs, apparently as sleepless as he was.
He’d hurt her feelings, and after everything she’d done for him, there was no excuse to let that stand. Maybe if he apologized, she’d be able to get some sleep. As hard as she’d been working, she needed the rest.
Mark slipped on some shoes and went to find her.
She was curled up near the wood stove, cradling a mug in her hands. Steam rose from the cup, caressing her face with fragile tendrils.
He should have touched her like that—with the gentle care she deserved—but he’d missed his chance and let his lust make him rough and demanding.
Firelight flickered through the open stove door, painting her face in shades of amber and gold. Shadows draped under her cheekbones and made her look delicate. She stared into the flames with such deep sadness, Mark’s heart broke just to see it.
The need to fix what was wrong reared up in him with such potent force he had to grab onto the handrail just to keep from rushing to her.
That strong feeling of purpose had been lost to him for so long that he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. But now it was back, demanding that he act.
Mark squared his shoulders and gave the feeling room to expand in his chest. It was good. Wholesome. Hopeful.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet so he wouldn’t startle her.
Her shoulders tensed and crept up toward her ears. “I needed some hot tea. My throat is a little raw.”
From the cold air, or from screaming as she came?
Mark didn’t dare ask which. Maybe it was neither and she was coming down with something.
He hurried forward and pressed his hand against her forehead to check for fever. She was hot, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the fire or if she was sick.
“I’m fine,” she said as she looked up at him.
That’s when he saw that she’d been crying. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was red. There were no signs of more tears, but he knew he’d been the cause of the ones she’d shed.
He crouched beside her. “I’ve hurt you.”
“I’m tough.”
“You shouldn’t have to be.”
Daisy let out a long, shaky breath. “Mom said it was a mistake to come here. One of these days I’ll learn that she’s way smarter than I am.”
“It wasn’t a mistake.” As soon as he said the words, he realized how true they were. “I needed you. If you hadn’t come, I’d still be bashing in walls, moving rocks around and taking cold showers.”
“Anyone could have helped you fix the house.”
“No, they couldn’t have. Believe me. Several tried. You’re the only one who was able to slip past my defenses.”
“I wasn’t trying to trick you. I was only trying to help.”
“Deep down, I think I knew that. You’re so cheerful in your stubbornness, who could refuse you?” He stroked her soft hair, basking in the way she leaned toward him with such open trust. It made him feel powerful, capable. It made him wish that he hadn’t already lost the right to accept her trust.
“I’m leaving in the morning.” Her voice was small and weak.
Mark’s instant reaction was of denial. He didn’t want her going anywhere. He liked having her here, even if he had fucked up things between them. They’d get past it eventually, and go back to the easy friendship they’d had before he’d pinned her to the tree and taken her hard and fast.
“I want you to stay.” The words came out of his mouth, but they were a surprise even to him.
She closed her eyes and a single tear fell down her cheek. “Please. Don’t. It’s already hard enough to walk away from you when you still need so much help here.”
“I can’t stand the idea of you leaving upset like this. Stay for a while longer. Let me make it up to you.”
“There’s nothing to make up. I can’t compete with a dead woman—especially not one as awesome as Janey. And I have enough self-respect not to hang around here and wish things were different when I now know they never will be. I need to move on with my life.” She looked at him with tears clinging to her lashes. “You don’t love me, Mark. You never will. I owe it to myself to find a way to stop loving you. So I’m leaving.”
She stood and walked away. The room grew colder without her.
He sat there for a long time while the numb shock of her words wore off. He should have been rel
ieved that she finally accepted the truth—that he was too damaged to ever love again, too hurt and scared to even try. Instead, he felt lost without the warmth of her bright, cheerful persistence shining on him.
He wanted to make her happy, to see her smile again. He needed to see that mischievous glint in her eye and hear her sweet voice lifted in laughter.
How the hell was he going to go a whole day without those things, much less the rest of his life?
But how could he ask her to stay when he knew he could never love her the way she deserved? That part of him had died with Janey, and there was no bringing it back to life.
His only option was as clear as it was painful.
He had to let Daisy go.
Chapter Eleven
Daisy had almost made it to her work van early the next morning when she heard engines growling up the long driveway to Mark’s house. Trees shielded the lane from sight, but the second she saw the shiny red nose of the burly Ford, she knew her plans to leave had been thwarted.
Her brother was here. And behind his truck were two more—her cousins’ vehicles—all loaded with construction supplies and equipment.
Daisy groaned and rushed her suitcase back inside. If her family saw she was leaving, they’d want to know why, and telling her brother and cousins that she’d been stupid enough to let Mark Cooper break her heart was going to end in humiliation for her and pain for him.
Time to put on her happy pants, as Grandad always said.
She forced a smile as she headed back out into the early morning sunlight. Mark must have heard the engines, too, because he appeared beside her, his expression hard and cold.
“I can’t believe you called them,” he said.
She kept her smile in place as she waved. “I didn’t. You can thank Brina Grace for that favor.”
“Your mom had no right.”
“Feel free to bring that up with her the next time you see her. But let me know when this conversation is going to take place first so I can take bets on who wins the argument.” Daisy stepped off the porch and went to greet her family.
Declan Grace slid out of his shiny red truck. His long hair fell in carefree waves around his handsome face. Sunglasses hid his Grace green eyes—the same color as her own—but she could see faint smile lines peeking out from the Costa frames. Tattoos peeked out from under his shirt sleeves—much to Mom’s dismay—but they worked for him. He had a good-natured scoundrel vibe that all the ladies loved, and he loved them right back—as many and as often as possible. Also to Mom’s dismay.
He stretched out his arms toward her. Daisy went to her brother for a hug. The second he embraced her, some of the weight riding her shoulders eased, like he’d scooped up her burden and took it on himself.
Declan was good like that.
“How’s the runt of the family doing?” he asked with a grin.
She wasn’t short, but next to Declan’s tall, heavy frame, she probably looked like a runt. “Working hard to get this place livable. Guess Mom filled you in?”
“As if she could resist. She’s never met a situation she didn’t find worthy of meddling in.”
More big, strapping Grace men piled out of the vehicles, along with Daisy’s closest cousin, Flora. Daisy’s younger brother Torin, was a carbon copy of their father, and as easygoing as they came. Mason Grace, her cousin and constant workaholic, stood on eye level with Declan, but was way more uptight. And his brother Saxon, who had this calm, quiet vibe that masked the spirit of a warrior. She’d seen him beat down a bully when he was a kid while cradling a wounded puppy in one arm. Since then she’d remembered never to underestimate him just because he was quiet.
Mark surveyed the group and the contents of their truck beds. “I appreciate you all coming all the way out here, but I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time.”
Declan grinned. “We figured you’d say that, and we respectfully disagree.” He nodded to Mason. “It’s all you, man. Do what you do best and take charge.”
Mason’s demeanor shifted as he donned his professional persona of being The Man in Charge. Some of his tension faded now that he was in control of the situation. “All right, men, ladies. We’ve got forty hours. Make every one of them count.” He turned to Saxon. “Unload the supplies and food first, then move these trucks to make room for the drywall shipment.”
Saxon nodded and went to work.
Mark looked from one man to the next, confused that they had ignored him. “I didn’t order any drywall.”
“Aunt Brina did,” Flora said as she pulled her long, dark hair back into a sloppy ponytail. “If you don’t want it, you’ll have to take it up with her, because not a single one of us is willing to piss her off.”
Mark stared at Daisy for support. “I don’t want their help.”
Daisy shrugged. “Sorry. People rarely get what they want in this life.” She hadn’t meant for her comment to sound snarky, but it did, and she knew it was because her heart was still aching over knowing that she’d screwed up everything with Mark.
Her cousin Mason pointed to the cab of Declan’s truck. “There’s some bedding, groceries and other light stuff you ladies can carry.”
Flora rolled her eyes at her brother.
Daisy said, “You know I do this construction thing for a living, right? Lifting heavy stuff is part of the job.”
Flora added, “I’d like to see you balance a giant tray filled with food over your head, or load racks filled with dishes. Running the diner is a constant exercise in heavy lifting.”
“Not when we’re around to do it for you. Now grab the easy stuff or get out of the way.” Mason caught Mark’s eye. “And you, make yourself useful. There’s plenty of work to go around.”
Mark stood there for a second, hesitating.
Daisy took pity on him. “I suggest you dig deep and find a way to deal, because I know my family, and for the next forty hours, dealing with them is your only choice.”
★★★
Mark managed to keep up with the Grace men, but just barely. Every one of them was a powerful force of nature, able to perform superhuman feats of strength and endurance.
Daisy and Flora were no exception.
The women worked right beside their brothers and cousins, matching them in both speed and effort. Sure, they might not have been able to lift as much or reach as high, but that made them no less effective.
After twelve hours, the crew had managed to install sheetrock through the whole house. Some of the tape and mud was already laid and drying on the first floor.
Mason called a halt to the work. Torin set up a charcoal grill and started to cook steaks. Flora rifled through coolers for the sides, while Declan opened a cooler filled with ice and beer. The Grace family had brought their own folding chairs, and a couple of card tables, which they set up on the front porch like they owned the place.
Daisy had been sent to the shower first, and had come back down in a few minutes, scrubbed clean of drywall dust and joint compound. Her hair was dark with moisture, and she’d twisted it up to keep it from dripping down her back. Beneath the deep neckline of her tank, he could see a patch of skin at the top of her spine that was covered with abrasions and scrapes.
“What the hell did you do to your back?” Declan asked.
She blushed deeply, and in that instant, Mark knew that it had happened when he’d taken her against the tree.
He was horrified that he’d hurt her like that, pissed that she hadn’t said anything about it, and turned on because he couldn’t get the memory out of his mind.
“Must’ve scraped it on something,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not, but Mark and I have done a lot of work on this place.”
Mason grunted. “My guess is it was just one can of gas and a match away from being perfect when he bought it.”
Saxon shook his dark head. “Bite your tongue. She’s a thing of beauty. Looks way better than you will when you’re pushing a hundred.”
De
clan lifted his beer bottle in agreement. “Looks better than Mason does now.”
Mason grunted in good-natured amusement.
Mark listened to the men discuss the pros and cons of his purchase with only half an ear. He really didn’t care what they thought. He hadn’t bought the place for the house. It was the solitude he’d wanted. And out here with no cell signal or Internet access, he was completely alone.
At least he had been before Daisy and her burly family reunion.
Still, even though he hadn’t invited them, he was glad they’d come. Daisy had been packing her van when they’d arrived, and they were the reason she was still here.
They’d given him forty more hours with her, and for that, he was deeply grateful.
So, rather than fight the force of nature that was the Grace family, he gave into their invasion and enjoyed the company. He listened to them laugh and rib each other. He watched as they downed more food than a small army. He savored Saxon’s perfectly grilled steak and the fresh rolls and cherry pie that Flora had brought from her diner.
It had been a long time since he’d been home to Whisper Lake, but if he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that he was back there, surrounded by friends and family.
“Your turn to hit the shower, Mark,” Mason said. “Save me some hot water, will you?”
“I think I’m going to turn in,” Declan said with an exaggerated yawn. “I’ll walk you inside.”
Mark didn’t think anything of Declan’s actions until they were behind his closed front door.
Declan took him by the arm and issued a warning that bore none of the man’s usual easygoing attitude. “If you hurt my baby sister, I’m going to have to hurt you back.”
Outrage surged at the base of Mark’s spine. “What are we? High schoolers?”
“I know you’ve been through hell, but that doesn’t give you the right to take it out on Daisy.”
“What the hell are you talking about? I’ve hardly exchanged ten words with her all day.” Though not for lack of proximity. He hadn’t been able to keep his distance, always seeking her out to make sure she was safe and had what she needed.
