Painful memories and images burned his brain and threatened the tentative hold he had on his sanity.
He had known the flame would fizzle and they’d crash and burn eventually, but he hadn’t known he’d force the crash before the weekend ended.
His eyes burned. He squeezed them tight, refusing to acknowledge the cause. Must be the sand from the shell.
He leaned forward and tucked the shell into his glove compartment. He couldn’t look at it anymore, but he wasn’t ready to let it go.
Before he straightened, he discovered another little something his Simplicity had left behind.
His Simplicity? What the hell? That ship hadn’t just sailed—it had crashed into his iceberg and plummeted to the bottom of the sea.
He lifted the folded bit of paper, wondering if it was something important that he’d need to return.
An excuse to see her again?
He’d have to mail it.
Probably trash, anyway.
His eyes took in the information presented before him as he read the paper, but his brain failed to compute.
A growl grew in the back of his throat, and before he thought about what he was doing, he had crumpled the check from his mother in his fist.
So this was why she was suddenly concerned about his relationship with his mother.
She had been given one hundred thousand very good reasons to care.
Was this the first installment? Or had she been paid in advance as well? What was the going rate for her to drag herself to the bottom in order to do his mother’s bidding?
Had she been paid extra to cloud his judgment with her insane fucking skills?
He slammed his fist against the steering wheel. He gnashed his teeth together the way he had during those long hours of torture. Anything to distract him from the rage inside.
How had he not seen this coming?
Too good to be true. He should have known it was all a high-paid act.
She hated money. Ha. He had bought that excuse like a thirsty man buys a drink. She probably ate meat when she wasn’t around him, too.
With his gas tank on fumes, he had no choice but to get out and fill the tank before taking off and leaving this town behind forever.
No hoodie. No ear buds. At least he had his sunglasses. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him to slip them on while it was hours past sunset—it had never bothered him before.
He watched the numbers on the pump in annoyance. Could the damn thing be any slower?
Another car pulled up on the other side of the pump.
“Hey, look who it is.”
The voice taunted and threatened to destroy the last tiny remnant of Ethan’s make-believe grip on sanity.
Just his luck. The inspector.
He could quit pumping. He was almost up to half a tank. That would buy him some distance.
But he wasn’t one to retreat. If he left now, it would look like he was running away like a shrivel-balled coward.
He didn’t have to acknowledge the prick.
“Lucky you, winning the weekend with Simplicity. I’ll give it to you—you’ve got some kind of pull over her. I’ve been trying to get to know more about her over dinner and such, but never once did she mention that she likes the rough-edged boys. She led me to believe, well, never mind.”
Ethan thought he’d break the handle with his grip.
Just keep pumping.
“Oh, but when she moves in those baggy tops, knowing she has nothing underneath—it’s easy to see how she makes us guys pant after her.”
The bastard laughed at his own insulting bullshit.
Ethan slammed the pump back into position and screwed on the gas cap.
“Think I’ll stop by and see her tonight. Top her off, if you know what I mean.”
Blind rage consumed Ethan, bubbling over the top. He jumped over to Jackson’s side and pressed his arm against Jackson’s throat, grinding him against his SUV. The gas dispenser Jackson had been holding fell to the ground, clattering back and forth between the vehicle and the cement pedestal. Jackson gasped for air. His eyes bulged out of his head. He clawed at Ethan’s arm, desperate for a breath of oxygen. In the struggle, Jackson knocked Ethan’s sunglasses off his head.
Without a filter, he could see every detail of the bloodshot eyes in the man he held captive.
Ethan had finally become what his enemies wanted him to be. A thoughtless monster. Capable of destruction. Eager to hurt another living being.
Like them. Exactly like them.
Jackson was a helpless kid. Same age as Ethan, more or less, but without the life experience Ethan had. His taunting was not a death wish.
Ethan staggered backward, tripping on the barricade. With one last look at the man now trying to collect himself, he tore out of the station.
Chapter Sixteen
Simplicity studied the kitchen, searching for an unoccupied spot to put the tray of cookies she held in her oven mitt ensconced hands. The kitchen had become a sea of cookies—they covered every flat surface.
She solved the problem by placing a tray on top of another tray, then claimed the newly cleared spot for the next batch.
“Simplicity.”
Simplicity blinked as she tuned into the agitated voice of her sister.
“I said your name five times. Why are you ignoring me?”
“I, um, well, I, uh…” Simplicity closed her eyes and took a deep breath, working hard to clear her mind from the jumbled thoughts racing through it. “I didn’t hear you. I’m sorry.”
“What is all this for? And why are you baking so much at midnight? You haven’t even unpacked your bag yet.”
Simplicity waved away the questions and continued scooping more cookie dough onto the cookie sheet.
“Simplicity. I’m worried about you. Why are you baking?”
“I, uh, um… Bake sale. I think I’ll have a bake sale. For the foundation.”
“You have to plan the details before baking the cookies, sweetie.” Freedom gently pried the scoop out of Simplicity’s hands. “Come and sit with me for a few minutes.”
“I can’t. I have to get these done before I get tired.”
“You can go back to it in a little while. Take a break with me, will you?”
Simplicity pulled and twisted her dangling earring.
“I really have to finish, Freedom. You should go to bed.”
“I will. But first I want to talk.”
Panic rose in Simplicity’s gut, burning all the way up to her throat.
“The credit card. I forgot to tell you.” She pressed her hands to her eyes. “To ask you, I mean.”
She had planned to tell her sister in the morning that she had borrowed her credit card. She thought she was sleeping. She had screwed up again.
When would she stop screwing up?
“It’s okay, sweetie. What credit card are you talking about?”
It’s okay.
Freedom didn’t sound angry. She sounded relaxed. Okay, she hadn’t screwed up.
“Remember how I wanted to bottle the water from the Springs to raise more money for the kids? The foundation? Well, I found a great deal on empty water bottles. Recycled. If I purchased one thousand of them, there was a discount, so I ordered two thousand because I know they will sell out really fast.”
“Simplicity…”
“Do you think I should have ordered more? I mean, what’s the population of Healing Springs? I know everyone will want to order some. Probably more than one each. I should have ordered more! I still have to figure out how to do the labels. I’ll go talk to the printer downtown tomorrow. I promise I’ll pay you back before the credit card bill even comes in. I have the money we earned from the sledding.”
Freedom shook her head, eyes closed as if trying to collect her thoughts. “I’m not worried about the money, Simplicity. But how did you order these things?”
“I used your computer. I know I don’t like technology, but I figured this was for the grea
ter good and I could compromise my principles for that. Are you mad that I used your card?”
Freedom shook her head, but her eyes looked sad.
“Are you sad about something?”
Simplicity watched Freedom nibble her lip. Her face contorted as if she were in deep pain.
“Why aren’t you with Rogan tonight?”
“He’s here. I came out because I was worried about you.”
“Have a cookie! Cookies fix everything.”
Freedom shook her head again.
“I need you to go to bed, sweetie.”
“Can’t. Too much to do. This is going to be fantastic.”
Simplicity rushed through the kitchen, cleaning up crumbs from the counter, dropping her cloth on the half-cleaned counter to grab the broom to sweep, then remembering the sink overflowed with caked-on mixing bowls and measuring cups. She started washing the dishes, then remembered she had left the oven on. She sang to herself as she heaped spoonfuls of cookie dough on the sheet she had started filling earlier.
Freedom continued to watch.
“You can go back to bed, Free. I’ve got this!”
“We really need to talk.”
“Can’t. So busy. How about in the morning when this is all taken care of?”
“You’ve got to tell me what happened with Ethan.”
“Oh, know what song I have stuck in my head? I think I may have heard it on the radio this weekend, but I don’t remember hearing it. Or maybe it’s a message from Momma.”
Simplicity started humming her mother’s favorite song—Joni Mitchell’s Both Sides, Now. She closed her eyes and allowed the lyrics to clean the inside of her brain and to wash over her body. She swayed to the music, enjoying the feel of her mother’s long patchwork skirt flitting over her legs. The song transported her to her childhood, a much happier place.
Freedom took her arm again, and Simplicity didn’t put up a fight. She leaned into her sister, allowing herself to feel the comfort Freedom offered. Freedom walked her to her cot, tucked her in sweetly—humming along to the song they both knew by heart—and kept vigil by Simplicity’s side until Simplicity faked being asleep so her sister would leave her alone.
She didn’t want to be alone, but she didn’t realize it until Freedom had tiptoed back to her room and softly closed her door.
Staring at the ceiling, she willed her mind to quiet. She tried to meditate, but couldn’t focus. She stretched out on the floor, listening to the sounds of the old cottage creaking and sighing. She paced the living room for a while, wishing the energy would leave her body and allow her to rest.
Nothing worked.
The negative voice she worked so hard to suppress became louder and louder in her mind.
This wasn’t good.
She opened Freedom’s door, knowing she needed company to help ward away the dark thoughts.
She hadn’t had these thoughts for a long time, but they moved in as comfortably as her tired feet slipped into a favorite pair of slippers.
Freedom didn’t stir as Simplicity watched her from the doorway. Curled up with Rogan, the love of her life, she looked so peaceful. So serene. Younger than she looked in her day-to-day life. Rogan’s arm draped protectively over Freedom as she slept.
Envy gnawed at Simplicity’s insides, making her heart flutter.
She deserved that sort of comfort.
Ethan hadn’t tried to call her since dropping her off, but then again, why would he?
He had been upset with her suggestion to reunite with his mother, but she had been stupid to bring it up. She had known she risked his wrath, but she had allowed her empathy toward the stranger to trump her own intuition.
She owed him an apology.
She knew exactly how to present it.
Being extra careful to not wake up her sister, Simplicity slipped out of her clothes and into her longest button-down sweater. And then she drove to Ethan’s house.
***
Simplicity ordered her heart to stop trying to thump its way out of her chest as she stood on Ethan’s back porch, working desperately to get the nerve to knock.
He wouldn’t be sleeping.
He didn’t sleep.
Even while they were away, the man had been awake every time she opened her eyes. She knew he must have slept at some point, but she never managed to witness it.
No wonder his house was littered with energy drink cans.
Since her legs had grown numb with the cold, she pushed aside all thoughts of rejection and banged on the door.
She didn’t hear him approach from behind her.
She gasped when his body pushed hers against the door. He pinned her arms behind her back as her cheek pressed against the wooden barrier.
“What are you doing here?”
He growled into her ear, every bit as menacing as the first time she had met him.
Only this time, she wasn’t scared for her physical safety.
He’d never hurt her body.
“I needed to see you.”
He reached around her and unlocked his door, yanking her toward him as the door swung open.
“You’re cold,” she whispered. “Out walking?”
He ignored her inquiry and shifted around her so he was inside while she stood on the porch.
His face was hidden in the shadows, but he couldn’t hide what he had been doing.
“You’ve been drinking.” She knew the smell of alcohol anywhere, and she didn’t like it.
“Once again, proving what a genius you are.”
“I thought you didn’t drink?”
“And I thought you didn’t whore yourself. Guess we were both wrong.”
He might as well have slapped her. She’d have preferred it, actually.
She reached out to touch him, knowing if she could make contact with him, he’d feel what he felt before.
He’d remember what he liked about her.
He swatted her hand away.
“What do you want?”
Her throat closed on her words.
“Don’t fucking stand there on my step, half-undressed, staring at me like a pathetic, abandoned puppy. If you came here for something, tell me what the fuck it is.”
She did come here for something, and she would press on until she got it. She wasn’t a quitter. Okay, maybe she had been in the past, but she wasn’t now. She was on a roll—a fix-her-life kind of roll, and she couldn’t stop when she was so close to actually meeting a goal.
Pretending his scathing look was one of adoration, she unbuttoned her top button. Then the next one. Then the next one. She smiled as his eyes watched her fingers move. As a fire lit in his pupils. As his cheek twitched with every new inch of skin she bared.
She allowed the sweater to fall to the floor when the last button was undone.
She watched his Adam’s apple dance as he swallowed.
She suppressed her shiver, hoping and praying that he’d sweep her into his arms soon, preferably before she froze to death on his stoop.
A war played out across his features. She wondered if he knew he had started to reach for her. Did he sense the way his shoulders leaned forward? Did he feel his cheeks puffing out before he forcefully exhaled? Did he notice that he practically tore his skin off as he scratched at his neck?
Did he realize she had bared more than her body to him? That she had offered him her soul?
She stepped into the house, barely able to feel her legs as she moved.
He didn’t blink.
She took his lack of words as consent and pressed herself into him, tangling her arms around his neck.
She became intoxicated by the rough scent of him. The muskiness that rose above the tainted odor of the alcohol. The part of him that reached out and beckoned for her to strip him of his clothes and his doubt and to force his soul to mingle with hers.
He allowed her to kiss him for several seconds before he took over. His hands were everywhere. Over her frigid skin. In her hair. Cupping
her breasts. Squeezing her hips.
His tongue probed her mouth, asking no questions—demanding all the answers.
She pushed herself into him, aroused beyond belief at his rock hard erection poking her through his jeans.
Her hips rocked against him.
His hands squeezed her upper arms. Pushing her away.
Through a haze of desire, Simplicity searched her an explanation.
She couldn’t find one. All she could find were his lips, moist with her kisses, and the hardened gaze of a man who didn’t want to be with a woman. Well, not with this woman, anyway.
“What’s wrong?” She managed to push the words out through her clogged throat.
“You.”
She couldn’t contain the tears that filled her eyes. Was what she had said in the car really worth this treatment? This loathing? This rejection?
No. There was something more.
She’d leave. She’d give him what he wanted.
But first, he owed her an explanation.
“I don’t understand you, Ethan. I thought I did. I thought we were getting somewhere. But every time we get close, you force me away. I don’t get it. Am I not good enough for you? Am I not what you want?”
He flinched as if she had thrown a torch at him and burned his eyebrows.
“You’ll be fine without me, Simplicity. Go off to your inspector. No one has to pay you to be with him.”
He turned away from her, and the sight of him walking away lit a fire in her belly.
No way was she going to let him stew in his false beliefs. He may not want her, but he could reject her on her own merits—or lack thereof—not on some stupid fallacy created in his delusional mind.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me.” The words shot out of her in a tone she had never heard come out of her mouth before.
He must have been as shocked as she was. He stopped moving forward and turned his head to the side. He didn’t look at her, but he waited to hear whatever she had to say.
Now what the jumping jellybeans should she say?
“I don’t know what you think you know about me, but if you think for a minute that I want to be with anyone but you, you clearly don’t know me at all!”
Loving a Wildflower Page 16
