If the Dark Wins (Finley Creek Book 4)

by Calle J. Brookes

  He held up his hands. “I’ll try. I’m not trying to push you into anything. But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me. I also meant what I said. Even if we don’t ever do anything, we can always learn to be friends. I’m a good guy. Or at least I’ve been told that before. Of course, the woman was ninety and half blind. She may have even thought I was Marc, but still...”

  She smiled softly. “I... I sound like an idiot, don’t I? I’m just not used to men flirting.”

  Now that surprised him, until he thought about it for a while. What was it his brother had said? Attitude? She’d definitely snipped and snapped at him enough to keep a sane man away. Travis suspected the woman probably had good reason for her fear. And that was exactly what it was, fear. Someone had hurt her, badly. And like a half-wild kitten, she hissed to keep men away. “I’m not sure what to say to that. I’m sure guys have. You’re gorgeous, funny, successful, sassy...I really like the sassy, by the way. You...remind me of Marc’s late wife. Carissa was the same way. She’d box my ears sometimes, though. Just for fun. She was about this big.” He held a hand up to his chest, as he spoke. He wasn’t fully focused on what he was saying, just wanted to see the fear leave her pretty eyes before he headed out. “I don’t think she even broke five-foot-two. But she’d tell me just like it was.”

  It worked. She pulled in a deep breath. “How long has she been gone?”

  “She died giving birth to Isaac. Blood clots in the brain. They’d apparently been there for decades. One minute there and happy, the next just gone.” No chance for them to say goodbye. Just brain-dead in an instant. Travis had changed after that—as had his brothers. He’d never waste time with loved ones again—hell, that was the main reason he kept on Rafe’s case the way he did, and called Marcus at least three or four times a week. He even made a point of talking to his niece and nephew every time he called.

  “I’m sorry. I lost a patient like that about a year ago.”

  “She was Marc’s light. Apparently Rafe’s and mine, too. He introduced them, Rafe did. She was in his class in med school. They were the best of friends, just seemed to get each other. When she and Marc hooked up, Rafe hated the idea. At first. But she made Marc happy, and it was mutual. The last time I saw my cousins Slade and Sara alive was at Marcus’ wedding.” She wasn’t looking quite as wary, at least. “Well, Dr. McGareth, I’m going to get out of your hair.”

  He wanted to stay right where he was, with the pretty girl next to him. But he’d been rejected before. And no matter what he wanted, Lacy McGareth wasn’t ready for anything more than a casual neighbor next door. He scared her. He got that now.

  So... he had two choices.

  He could keep pushing, and make them both unhappy. Or he could just step back and hope that maybe someday she’d trust him enough that they could explore the heat that he had no doubt could be there between them. Travis was a patient—and hopeful—man.

  “I’ll see you in a few days, honey. I want to get that back fence done before too much longer.”

  He felt her eyes on him as she watched him go.

  19

  Logan’s hands shook. They would until the pill hit his system. He thought about grabbing himself a drink, but he didn’t. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what alcohol and pharmaceuticals would do if mixed.

  Instead, he occupied himself with his computer. Sometimes videos were all that took the edge off. Tonight, there was a green-eyed blonde that strongly reminded him of Lacy. He spent hours watching her pay-per-view videos, substituting another more familiar woman in her place in his mind.

  He’d worked a consult with Lacy McGareth that afternoon. She might not like him personally, but she was a damned fine trauma surgeon; or she would be, once she curbed her tongue with her superiors and once she completed her training. She had compassionate hands, soft, light, feminine. He had to force himself to look away from those hands there at the end.

  She’d touched him once. Those soft hands had saved his life.

  Logan stretched out on his bed, his own hand resting on the scars from the bullet that had ripped into him and remembered.

  When he woke the next morning, his body was covered in sweat and Lacy McGareth’s eyes were burned into his mind and he was clutching his pillow close—as if it was a substitute for a real, living woman, one with dark green eyes and the most compassionate hands he’d ever seen.

  Logan remained in the bed, after popping his first dose of Solpalmitraln and let his mind wonder. Let himself remember every interaction he’d ever had with that woman.

  He’d asked her out once or twice, but she’d rejected him. Hospital grapevine was that she didn’t often date, preferring to focus on her career until she was finished with her training. He’d understood that.

  Hadn’t necessarily agreed, but he’d understood it.

  She was beautiful, highly intelligent—no one could deny that, she’d been at the very top of her class at FCU, and dedicated to her patients and the hospital.

  She was also damned beautiful, something very few men had missed. He knew he hadn’t.

  What would it take to have her not despising him like she did? Have her looking at him with welcome in those large dark green eyes?

  Logan considered himself a normal, healthy male, with a normal, healthy sex-drive; though it had been a while, since he’d been recuperating from his injury. He couldn’t truthfully remember the last full erection he’d had.

  But today…he reached down and adjusted himself lightly.

  Because of Lacy McGareth.

  It gave him something to…think…about, didn’t it? What would it take to have her naked beneath him?

  DR. MCGARETH—LACY—WAS the on-call trauma surgical fellow the next evening.

  Logan took the time to study her. He was technically off the clock, but his rounds had gone on later than he’d planned. She was going to be a hell of a trauma surgeon in a few years; with some seasoning, a good mentor. He’d give anything to be that mentor. But she ultimately worked for Jacobson, not him.

  If she could just get a handle on her sarcastic mouth. She was far too defensive—especially with the men in authority. Of course, that prick Holden-Deane deserved it.

  Lacy held up well under the pressure of an intense morning filled with four surgeries from a motor vehicle accident. But he saw the strain. It was there, around the eyes, especially when she was checking on the small girl patient who’d barely pulled through.

  A perverse wish to touch her, to comfort, to at least have those green eyes on him hit him hard. Just for a moment or two.

  He ensured his patients were in recovery near some of hers. He wasn’t even aware that he was doing it until it had already been done. He blew off a lunch meeting with Dr. Jacobson to follow Dr. McGareth on her own lunch break.

  No surprise, she met up with that little redheaded friend of hers. They were practically inseparable. Nurses were getting younger and younger, it seemed. This one was very young looking. He knew who she was, of course. But he hadn’t spoken to her in months. He was surprised she’d returned after what had happened; and why should she have returned? Her brother-in-law was a damned billionaire, after all. Girl shouldn’t have to work again. She could just sponge off that now-wealthy sister of hers.

  Those damned Becks had almost gotten him killed, after all. The dark-haired woman was another he’d seen around the hospital before, but he didn’t know her name. Together, they were remarkably beautiful women. But it was the blonde he couldn’t take his eyes from. He’d never been so intrigued by a woman like her before. He honestly preferred quieter, sophisticated brunettes. Like the one across the table from Dr. McGareth, actually.

  He watched her as long as he could. Why couldn’t he get her out of his head?

  It took him a while to realize he hadn’t craved one of those damned pills all day. From the moment he’d seen Lacy McGareth walk into the ward, his entire non-patient focus had been on her.

  20

  Her shif
t ended around seven that night, and Lacy headed over to her second favorite place in the world. Sometimes she got tired of her own cooking, and to be honest—Jillian was a far better cook than she was. Only to listen to Jillian go on and on about her new favorite nemesis.

  Rafael Holden-Deane.

  “He’s an asshole.” Jillian fumed as she walked around the living room in the house she still shared with her father and youngest sister.

  The third woman in the living room sighed softly. “I’m sorry. I can’t help but think it’s my fault he’s giving you such a hard time.”

  “Naw, he’s just like that,” Lacy said. The asshole in question was Holden-Deane, after all. “He razzes me all the time and I don’t think he realizes I’m connected to you in any way. I’ve certainly never told him.”

  Ari looked about ready to cry. Jillian stopped pacing and looked at Lacy. “I just don’t know what to do with him.”

  No wonder. From the first moment Jillian had stepped foot into the hospital, Rafael Holden-Deane had had it out for her. He was the last thing her friend needed right now. “So…full story. Why you?”

  “Because we’ve been fighting since I was in diapers?” There was such rancor in Jillian’s tone. Such fire. Such feeling. For the first time in months. Lacy didn’t know whether to smack Holden-Deane—or hug him. Jillian was feeling again.

  And that was a big deal.

  “Excuse me?” This was news; that was for sure.

  “I didn’t realize it at first. Until Chance mentioned Marcus’ brother. I remember them from when I’d be at Chance’s family’s get-togethers. We were invited to all of Sara and Slade’s birthday parties. I was too young to remember the Deanes, I think. Not really. I remember one of them throwing Brynna’s kite in a tree—I think it was the youngest brother—and another getting it down. But I was like six then. I do remember not liking one of them because he was mean all the time. And around all the time. I think he was living with them for a while.”

  “And you think he remembers you?”

  Jillian hesitated. “No. I think it’s because of the letter Mel sent.”

  “What letter?”

  “About him being Ari’s biological brother.” Jillian looked guilty for a moment. “I didn’t tell you he showed up here two days before I went back to work.”

  Ari leaned forward. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I wanted you to get the chance to form your own opinion of him without me telling you what a jerk he was. Are you mad?”

  Ari stared at her for a little while. Then she shook her head. “No. I just don’t want my genetics to cause problems for you. I don’t think that’s exactly fair.”

  “It’s a little weird that he’s related to Chance and Elliot, though. And that you know him, Jilly.”

  “Yeah. Lucky me. Anyway, he was a jerk then and he’s a jerk now. But if you want to tell him he’s your brother, Ari, I’ll go with you. Lacy, too, I’m sure.”

  “So what happened when he showed up here?” Lacy asked.

  “He was as cranky as always and I told him to get lost. Unfortunately, he didn’t get lost enough.”

  Lacy definitely understood the sentiment. How could someone raise a man like Rafael Holden-Deane and one like Travis and they turn out so completely different?

  Something she didn’t understand.

  Heck, for that matter, she didn’t understand genetics entirely, either. Look at Holden-Deane’s biological siblings. She knew two brothers and two sisters of the man—and not a one of them was as cranky or ill-tempered as the man.

  Holden-Deane was a real conundrum in the whole Nature-vs-nurture debate, wasn’t he?

  21

  Travis Worthington-Deane knew exactly how to play her. Of that, Lacy was certain. She hadn’t seen him in over a week, as her day shift schedule had morphed into a swing shift lasting from ten a.m. to ten p.m.

  She’d seen evidence that the man had been around. His fences were finished and he’d painted them a nice, neat black that looked sharp. The fields themselves were tended and plowed and ready for whatever he wanted to do with them.

  The man must have worked like a fiend to get it all done as quickly as he had in only a few hours each evening, considering it had rained part of the week straight.

  Finally, she had another day off and it had been a rough few days leading up to it.

  Lacy was looking forward to doing nothing more than sitting at home and looking at paint samples for the next two hours at least. After her shower she heard something, outside. She opened the front door cautiously.

  To see a naked chest, covered with sweat, and a thin line of brown hair that disappeared into the waistband of the faded jeans that made the man look like absolute perfection in front of her. Her mouth watered; the man just looked too good to be true. Travis was back. "What are you doing here?"

  "Fixing your porch." He wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked at her. He grinned. “Afternoon, Doc. You look nice and…perky."

  Lacy groaned at the pun. She knew what he meant, it had been way too hot to put on a bra. She hadn’t expected him to say anything. She should have. He had a wicked gleam in his eyes after all. "You're a pig, Worthington-Deane. But I have to admit, you’re a nice-looking pig. Why are you fixing my porch?"

  "Because it needed fixed and you’ve been busy. And I have extra wood that just happens to fit. I figured I'm already over here, why not? Consider it a gift from a friend.”

  "You were already over here?" She must have slept more deeply than she’d thought. No surprise, she’d clocked over sixty hours this week. Even her exhaustion was exhausted.

  "I've been here a couple of hours, honey. Way back there in the west corner. I finished the fence in that area. I'll probably do the north edge of the property tomorrow. Then I'm completely fenced. Then I'll get some of the grass seated. Hopefully I'll have a nice little patch of grass within a few months. I may bring a few head over, just my main breeding stock. Not the bulls, I'm not that crazy. But I'd like to keep the heifers separated. Just in case of disease."

  "So why are you fixing my porch?"

  "I told you, I had these little short boards left over that I had trimmed off. I won’t be able to use them for much of anything except kindling. But then I realized something. They were the exact size needed to fix your porch. So I figured why not? And, like a good boy, I waited until I knew you were up to do it. But…" He shot her a puppy dog look. “I sure am thirsty. A nice tall glass of lemonade would hit the spot. You don't want me to dehydrate, do you, Doc? Of course, if you want to play doctor, I am more than up for that."

  "I'm sure you are. I'm sure I have a straitjacket around here somewhere, you'd be a great asylum patient working in this heat. But, thank you for fixing the porch. I've been meaning to get to it, but it seemed like I get called in every single time I'm ready. I'll get you something to drink." It was the least she could do, the guy was working on her porch, after all.

  If nothing else, she was enjoying the eye candy portion of the afternoon. Yes, she knew he was a beautiful man. Those hormones of hers were rearing their little heads and staring at him, drooling.

  They'd spotted him, and now they were urging her to do stupid things. Things that she just did not need to even be thinking about.

  She heard hammering behind her as she poured a tall glass with ice and the fresh lemonade. It seemed so weird to have someone else around. Someone that wasn't Jillian, Ari, or Jillian’s family.

  Travis was probably the only other person she had ever had willingly at her ranch.

  She heard wheels on the gravel drive. Lacy hurried outside. She was expecting Jillian and Ari later that evening, at least a couple of hours from now. Unless they'd shown up early. Which wasn’t unheard of. Sometimes they just needed to get away. Especially Jillian.

  But it wasn't a vehicle she recognized, and it showed no signs of slowing down. Travis had stood, and stepped down the stairs. He watched the strange vehicle from her front yard as it
drove on past, then he looked over at her. "I don't recognize the driver. Do you?"

  "I didn't get a good look at him. Someone headed to your place? That makes the most sense."

  "I suppose. Well, Hank can deal with them." Less than a minute later, the vehicle returned. He showed no signs of stopping. Travis looked at her as she stepped closer, she touched him on the arm lightly and handed him his glass of lemonade. He took it, while still watching the car. "Someone who is lost, most likely."

  "It happens from time to time. Not often, but it does happen." It had happened once, and that person had stopped and asked directions from Lacy when she’d been in her front drive.

  "Let’s get this finished. And then…we can talk about playing doctor again," Travis said. He grinned again, and before Lacy even realize he was moving, he leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.

  He tasted like heat and sunshine and man. And he’d moved so quickly she didn’t have time to put up her defenses.

  After that first brush of his lips against hers, Lacy knew the truth.

  She didn’t want to put up her defenses where he was concerned.

  Not at all.

  22

  Lacy lived here?

  Logan knew when he’d crossed Deane’s boundary. But if it wasn’t for online maps he never would have known she was surrounded by a Deane.

  No wonder the youngest Deane had wanted her to treat him at the ER. He already thought he had a claim on her.

  Didn’t he? He was surrounding her, after all. Marking his territory. Keeping other men out. No wonder she had turned Logan down.

  Logan took one look at the ramshackle heap that was Lacy’s home and felt sick to his stomach. It needed torn down; there was no hope for it left. It even leaned to one side slightly. He thought. Logan hadn’t exactly stopped to stare.

  He cursed, seeing the man in Lacy’s front yard. He recognized him, of course. Marcus Deane’s younger brother looked just like him. He’d noticed the day the sonofabitch had shown up in his ER, wanting Lacy’s attention.