Causing Havoc

by Lori Foster

  CHAPTER 14

  DEAN felt Gregor watching him as they finished prying loose the last strip of shingles. It had taken three hours of hard, nonstop labor to remove them all. Not that hard work was a problem. He’d never shied away from it.

  But for the last fifteen minutes, Gregor had been stealing glances at him.

  Dean wouldn’t ask him why. He wouldn’t give Gregor the satisfaction. He’d just ignore him until they finished the roof and—

  “Hey, Havoc?”

  Meddling son of a… So ignoring him wouldn’t work. He wasn’t surprised.

  Using his scraper, Dean ripped viciously at a stubborn clump of leftover shingle pieces, removing a few twisted roofing nails at the same time. “What?”

  Silence.

  Disgruntled, Dean sat back on his heels and in a more moderate tone said, “What the hell do you want, Gregor?”

  Gregor shrugged a shoulder sleeked with sweat and grime. “Never heard you laugh like that before, that’s all.”

  “What?”

  “Earlier. When you were snipin’ at the old broad. You were really cuttin’ up.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t think I’ve heard you that happy.”

  “Bullshit.” Dean tossed the hunk of mangled shingles and nails onto the pile. “Don’t go dramatic on me. You’ve heard me laugh plenty of times.”

  “Not like that. Not like ya meant it.”

  “The sun must be frying your brain.” Dean stripped off a glove so he could clear the grime from his face. It gave him a solid reason not to look at Gregor. “Good thing we’re ready for a break.”

  Gregor pulled off his gloves, too. “My brain is fine and you know it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He made a dry face. “For God’s sake, Dean, don’t get defensive. I was just curious—”

  “Don’t.” To make certain Gregor understood, Dean replied sharply, “Don’t be curious, and don’t think to start prying.” To make certain Gregor understood, Dean added a glare for good measure.

  Meddling would not be tolerated.

  Not the least bit bothered by Dean’s mood, Gregor continued with his nosy interrogation. “You’re diggin’ the whole family thing, aren’t you?”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  Gregor’s eyebrows shot up, and his humor returned. “Now what fun would that be? You know I’d rather—”

  Knowing exactly what he’d rather, Dean warned, “Don’t say it.”

  Chuckling, Gregor pretended to zip his lip.

  Shit. Somehow Gregor had egged him into giving himself away. Expression carefully blank, Dean looked at him. “You’re an annoying ass, you know that?”

  Gregor nodded. “Yeah. I’ve heard that before.”

  Dean assured himself that his reaction had less to do with being Jacki’s brother and more to do with being hot, sweaty, and tired. “Instead of hassling me, why don’t we get done here so we can eat?”

  “Sure thing.” But after a moment, Gregor started again. “You know, I wasn’t judgin’.”

  Dean dropped his head back and groaned at the expansive blue sky. “Un-fucking-believable.”

  Gregor couldn’t keep his grin at bay. “And I wasn’t going to ride you about it or anything. Hell, Havoc, your family is real nice. Lots of good-lookin’ women. Friendly. Sassy. I like ’em. All but that old one.” He shuddered. “Nasty old coot, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah.” Nasty and manipulative. Had Lorna ever told the girls how their parents had died? Not just about the car wreck, but the whole shebang? He doubted it.

  Should he tell them?

  “She must make Jacki and Cam miserable, don’t you think?”

  Dean tried to ignore Gregor—but he hit a nerve, damn it. For their part, Cam and Jacki seemed to take Lorna in stride, as if they were used to her acerbic attitude on life and expected nothing different.

  And that bothered Dean more than anything else could.

  “Why’s the old broad so sour anyway?” Gregor asked. When Dean didn’t answer, he tried prodding him. “Hey, Havoc? Got any ideas?”

  Slowly, Dean laid down his scraper and gave Gregor his full attention. “Ideas? Yeah, I have an idea.”

  Gregor’s back straightened. “Why do I have the feelin’ that I won’t like your idea?”

  “Maybe because it has to do with me tossing your muscle-bound butt off the roof.”

  Grinning like a fool, Gregor peered over the side to the ground below. “I’d rather you didn’t.” He swung his gaze back to Dean. “You know, I outweigh you by more than thirty-five pounds, I’m taller, and you’re beat all to hell and back already.”

  “So?” If Dean decided to toss him, Gregor would go over. No doubt about it.

  “So little sis is down there, and she’ll think I’m a pussy if I let you throw me over. Can’t have her getting’ the wrong impression, now can I? Besides, imagine the mess it’ll make of their nice lawn. A mess you’d probably end up fixin’ since you’ve morphed into a domesticated family man.”

  That did it.

  Shooting to his feet, Dean took a hard, aggressive step forward. “How about you shut up and mind your own goddamn business? Or do I need to shut you up?”

  “Hey, chill out, already.” Holding up both hands in surrender, Gregor waited for Dean to subside. “Jesus, man, relax, why doncha?”

  Feeling like a raging idiot, Dean cursed and loosened his stance. “I’m relaxed.”

  Gregor grunted over that gigantic lie. “It’s the truth, Havoc. I liked you better when you were laughin’.” He gathered up the pile of shingles and crossed the roof to the front of the house to dump them.

  Muttering to himself, Dean again wiped the sweat from his face and tried to ignore his prickling guilt. Gregor was a jerk, but he didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of Dean’s bad humor.

  Luckily, unlike women, men didn’t require apologies to let shit go.

  When Gregor returned, Dean said easily, “Ready to eat?”

  “Sure. If you think we’re done here for now.”

  Dean surveyed the roof. There were still lots of tiny pieces of shingle stuck to the wood and many roofing nails that needed to be removed or pounded down. The plumbing vent stack had an old metal flashing around it, sealed with gobs of roofing tar. Before he’d lay the new shingles, he’d remove that and scrape off the tar.

  But all that could wait.

  “Yeah, we can get back on this after a break.”

  “Thank God. I’m so hungry, my ribs are clankin’ together.” Gregor went halfway down the ladder and then jumped the rest of the way. The second his feet hit the ground, he looked for Jacki.

  She was nowhere to be seen—but Dean did zero in on Eve, watching as she went into the house again. That was her third trip inside. Each time she came back out, she looked more listless.

  He didn’t like it.

  Dean sat in the shade of a tree, drinking iced tea when Eve returned this time. She looked so uncomfortable, she didn’t notice him, and that bothered him, too.

  He sat his drink aside and met her halfway across the lawn. She seemed lost in thought, her head bowed, her pace slow. Dean halted her by putting the back of his hand to her forehead.

  Surprised blue eyes lifted and locked with his. “What are you doing?”

  Dean frowned. “You okay?”

  Wary, she pulled away from him. “Yeah, why?”

  She felt hot, Dean decided, but not really feverish. Still, she looked beat, not at all like the dynamic woman he knew. “Why don’t you go on home and rest up? You should probably stay out of this heat.”

  A frown tugged at her brows. “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t feel well.”

  Her shoulders squared in protest. “Says who?”

  Why did she sound so prickly? Dean propped his hands on his hips. “I say.”

  “Well, you’re wrong, because I’m not sick and I’m not going home. Not just yet anyway. After we eat, I do have to go home to change. I have an appo
intment early this evening.”

  “What kind of appointment?”

  The way she pokered up, he might as well have demanded that she hand over her firstborn. “I’m an event coordinator, Dean, remember?” She slapped a lock of hair away from her face with more force than necessary, then crossed her arms. “I have to meet with a potential client.”

  Dean chewed over what she said, compared to how she acted, and decided he didn’t like it a bit. Taking her arm, he said, “Come with me.”

  Eve dug her bare heels into the soft lawn. “Come with you where? What are you doing?”

  Dean kept walking, towing her along toward the back of the yard near the woods. As a boy, he’d gone there often just to be alone, to think. It afforded some necessary privacy.

  Cam called out, “Dean? Eve? Where are you going? The food’s ready.”

  Dean yelled back, “Give us a minute.”

  “I’m hungry, damn it.” Eve trotted along, barely keeping up with his long strides. “Dean,” she hissed. “You’re causing a scene.”

  “So?” They reached the woods and Dean urged her behind a thick oak tree.

  “Oh, that’s right.” Eve practically sneered. “You don’t care what anyone thinks, do you?”

  Dean sighed. Whatever bothered her, it must be something substantial for her to be so bitchy. He intended to find out what and then he’d fix it.

  “Tell me what’s wrong, Eve.” When she just pinched her mouth together, he cupped her face and kissed the end of her very cute nose. “Come on, honey,” he cajoled. “Talk to me.”

  Maybe the endearment did the trick, because she gave up her pique and slumped back against the tree in defeat. For long, agonizing seconds, she stared down at a cool covering of green moss growing over a tree root.

  Finally her gaze lifted to his. “I have some bad news, Dean. You’re not going to like it.”

  Alarm sank its icy claws into Dean’s stomach. He hardened himself, locking his jaw, tensing his muscles, preparing for the worst. Bracing one arm on the tree behind Eve, he dominated her space. “Tell me.”

  “Well.” Eve looked away, then peeked up at him again. She frowned. “It’d be easier to do this if you weren’t glaring at me like that.”

  He fucking well didn’t want to make it easy on her. “Say what you have to say, damn it.”

  In defiance, she crossed her arms. “It sort of changes your plans for tonight.”

  The oxygen left Dean’s lungs. His plans for the night? That’s what made her look so ill?

  To be certain they were on the same wave, he asked, “My plans for sex? That’s what we’re talking about here, right?”

  She nodded miserably. “Yes. Mother Nature has come calling.”

  Mother Nature?

  She had her period? That was it?

  A shock of humor went through Dean, loosening his tensed muscles, lifting the instinctive rage against rejection. He wanted to laugh, and even more than that, he wanted to kiss her silly.

  But he wasn’t a dummy. He put his other hand on the tree, too, caging her in. Poor thing. Eve looked tired and cranky and ready to hide herself away.

  She avoided his gaze, but he could see her frown—and the blush of color on her face.

  After choking down his amusement, Dean fashioned an expression of concern. “You’re having your monthly?”

  “Yes,” was her clipped reply.

  This close, he could smell the sun-warmed scent of her hair and skin. Combined with her very womanly emotions, it affected him in a wholly sexual way. “And that’s making you feel bad?”

  Blue eyes came up to clash with his. “Why do you ask?”

  Uh-oh. Tiptoe carefully, he warned himself. “It’s just that you’re not as…animated as usual.” And you’re downright mean, too—but Dean kept that observation to himself.

  She slumped with a groan. “If you want the truth, I feel like crap. I have awful PMS. My periods last a week, I bloat, and yeah, I feel drained.”

  A week? Dean felt his own groan struggle to get free. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” Her voice lowered. She dropped her forehead to his sternum. “I was really looking forward to tonight.”

  Gently, Dean tipped up her chin. “I’m not the squeamish type, honey. And there are plenty of ways—”

  “Forget it.” Eyes wide, Eve attempted to shove him away, realized he didn’t plan to budge, and settled on thrusting her face up close to his. “I am squeamish, but even if I wasn’t, I’m not up for it. Trust me on this, Dean, I am not good company.”

  No sex, huh? To Dean’s surprise, he realized that he just plain didn’t care. But how to convince her? Being a gentleman about it wouldn’t do. She’d tell him to get lost, and he refused to do that.

  Again, he tipped up her chin so she looked at him. “You owe me, Eve.”

  “What?”

  “We had a bet, lady. You lost, so I’m coming over.” She looked so volatile at that, Dean stepped back out of reach. But he didn’t relent. “If you want to be grouchy and sleep, that’s okay. I can take it. But you can’t cancel on me.”

  “I meant what I said. No sex.”

  “I’m not deaf. I heard you. I’ll wait until you’re ready.” Dean held his ground. “But I’m still coming over.”

  Something, maybe relief, flashed over Eve’s face before she crossed her arms and turned her stiff back on him. “Fine,” she snapped. “Don’t listen to me. Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Dean took in her chiseled posture, the severe stiffness of her shoulders. Even her rejections filled him with warmth, tenderness, and the purest pleasure.

  So odd.

  He’d be celibate for several days, but the grin came anyway. “You’re wasting your time, honey.” He bent and kissed the nape of her neck—and felt her shiver. “There’s something else you should know about me.”

  She peeked over her shoulder at him, her brows arched in question.

  Dean said, “I don’t scare easily.”

  Their gazes held for a long moment before Eve again turned away.

  No, Dean decided, Eve couldn’t scare him away—not when he wanted something, and for whatever reason, he wanted her. Not just sex. Not any woman.

  Eve.

  Now. Tonight. And tomorrow.

  With or without sex.

  And, damn it, he had no reason at all to pick that apart. He’d just go with it and enjoy himself, and in the process, he’d bring Eve enjoyment, too.

  WHEN Dean walked into the lobby of the Cross Streets Motel, he saw Roger at the faux marble countertop of the front desk, staring into a computer screen. He knew Roger owned and operated the place, but this was the first time he’d seen him there.

  He had a feeling that wasn’t a coincidence.

  A little slow in the awareness department, it took Roger a good full minute before he felt Dean’s stare. When he looked up and saw Dean watching him, he literally jerked. Surprise gave way to determination.

  Circling out from behind the counter, Roger headed for him. “Dean. Got a minute?”

  Just to be a prick, Dean glanced at his watch. “Maybe one. I need to shower and change and get over to Eve’s.”

  Irritation compressed Roger’s mouth for an instant. “I see.” He formed a resentful smile. “You two are practically inseparable already.”

  “You have about forty seconds left.”

  Green eyes flinched with anger. “Fine. Could we step into my office? It’s more private.”

  Roger started away but had to turn back when Dean said, “Here will do.”

  Since they stood in the center of the lobby with no chance for privacy, Roger inhaled sharply. He started to rein himself in, but then burst out, “Fuck it.” After one big aggressive step toward Dean, he said, “I’ll cut to the chase.”

  “Yeah.” Dean folded his arms over his chest and leaned into the wall. “You do that.”

  “I want to know what you’re doing in Harmony, how long you’ll be h
ere, and what the hell you’re planning with Cam.”

  Seeing no reason not to tell him, Dean shrugged. “I’m here because Cam invited me. I don’t yet know how long I’ll be here. But while I’m here, I hope to help Cam get back on track.”

  “What does that mean, ‘back on track’?”

  “She’s in debt. The house needs work. I haven’t entirely thought it through, so I don’t know to what extent I’ll get involved, but I plan to help her with both circumstances.” Dean watched Roger, waiting to see how he’d react to that news.

  Visibly frustrated, Roger ran a hand through his blond hair, leaving it less styled, and making himself appear almost human. “I was going to help her,” he said more to himself than to Dean.

  Right. But for what purpose? Dean wondered. He’d always been a good judge of character, and everything about Roger screamed suspicion. No man who flaunted his money the way Roger did could be trusted to care about and understand the really important things in life.

  No man who bullied others would be compassionate enough, gentle and caring enough for his sis—

  Whoa. Hold the phone.

  Staring at Roger, Dean literally backed away—until he caught himself. No fucking way would he let himself start thinking in terms of…He couldn’t even form the thought without a lot of wariness.

  But, damn it, he had to face facts. In speed-of-light time, he was starting to feel like a…big brother.

  Well, shit.

  Roger gave him a curious frown, and Dean cut him short by saying, “Is that it? Because I have things to do.”

  Shoving his hands into his pants pockets, Roger forged ahead. “I just thought…Well, considering Cam and I will be married—”

  “Maybe.”

  That one word, and the possibilities that came with it, nearly spurred Roger to violence. “We will be married,” he snarled. “Don’t doubt it.”

  Interesting reaction, Dean thought. Did Roger actually love Cam? Or was he driven by other motives? “Is there a point to this, Rog?”

  The shortened name had Roger bristling, but he brought himself under control. “Since we’ll be”—his lip curled—“family, I thought you might want to get to know me better.”

  Dean laughed. “No.” Family? No, no, no. He would not start interviewing suitors for his sister. If he ever did anything that asinine, he deserved to be blindfolded and stuck in the ring with two of the best Brazil had to offer. “Cam can make up her own mind who she wants to associate with.”