by Renee Reeves
Jake's gaze focused on something over Nick's left shoulder and frowning at the sudden shift in his brother's attention Nick turned. Looking small and lost, framed by the huge gaping doorway was Morgan, her face stricken and pale, ghost white against the shadowed interior. Boo sat at her feet, her tail curled possessively around Morgan's ankle.
"Morgan.” He read the scene through her eyes, heard the scene through her ears and his gut clenched in certain fear. He took several steps towards her, stopping when her arm lifted as if to hold him off. “Morgan, baby ... it's not what you—"
"I'm-I'm sorry.” Her mouth worked, opening and closing, “I-I didn't mean to—” Her chin trembled and she clamped her lips together, staring at him, betrayal clear in the watery gold depths. Voice shaking with suppressed tears she said, “I heard—” Her eyes flicked behind him to Jake, then back to him. She clamped a forearm against her stomach as if feeling sick. “I-I need to go. I need to go home."
Her voice, ghostly and weak, made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He closed several more feet between them, shaking his head, “No sweetheart. You need to stay here, where we can talk."
She shook her head and began edging along the wall of the barn, away from him, giving Nick flashbacks of another time, another place.
"Please baby, don't do this,” he pleaded, knowing he was seconds away from losing her. “What you heard is not what you're thinking it is!"
"Oh? I didn't hear you tell Jake to go have sex with me?"
"Fucking hell!” he shouted, needing to break through whatever mental block she was erecting. “No, goddamnit, that's not what you heard!” His traitorous brain churned up a scene from last night, but superimposed Jake with her instead of himself. It was more than he could bear and stay sane. “You know damn well I didn't say that. Like I'd ever let another man touch you."
She inched along the barn, easing closer and closer to the edge, and Nick thought, freedom. Escape. “You don't own me Nick.” Her brows drew low while her chin nudged upwards, showing a little of the spirit he had come to enjoy. “You don't 'let' me do anything."
"Yeah, well that may be, but you're sure as hell not leaving here until we talk about this."
"Listen to him, Morgan.” Apparently Jake had recovered from the blow and was now standing behind him, “What you heard us—me—saying was stupid, and I apologize. If you knew—"
"Oh I know,” she cut him off with a hysterical sounding laugh, “I know. I know I just heard the man I...” she hesitated, chin quivering. Nick wanted to gather her up, kiss her until she was clinging to him. Do whatever he had to do until she swore she'd never leave him. “I know I heard you say...” her voice trembled and she clutched her hands together, “you said you l-loved me, Nick ... and in the next breath I hear you saying that I'd be better off with Jake. How could you say that? Especially after last night?"
Those big golden eyes looked so tormented that if he had had a dagger in his hand he would have cut out his tongue with it. Not that that would solve this steaming shitpile of a mess he had made.
Thoughts scattered, his answer wouldn't come and he hesitated a moment too long. Apparently Morgan took this as some ominous sign because she choked off a sob, pushed violently off the side of the barn and made a break for the clearing between it and house.
"Morgan! Goddamn it!"
Nick slammed a fist against the wall and took off after her, knowing it was foolish to chase her—especially with her past—but the gripping, clawing need to make her understand, to not let her get away again, overrode his calm. Tore away all of his common sense.
He easily overtook her and caught her before she even got near the house. She stumbled on her bad leg and he caught her from behind, lifting her, struggling, high against his chest. Her feet dangled off the ground and she slammed her heel into his shin, right below his kneecap. He cursed, raw and succinct, the blinding pain almost dropping him to his knees. But he also had an insane urge to grin. She hadn't held back anything with the hit, which meant her usual bout of fear and anxiety, her usual cower reflex hadn't triggered ... yet.
"No, no!” Her body bowed against his hold, long hair whipping back and forth, and he knew she was gearing up to ram the back of her head into his chin. “Let ... me ... go!"
"Hit me, Morgan.” He put his mouth close to her ear, resisting the urge to kiss the fragile shell. “Do whatever you feel like. You know I'm not gonna hurt you, no matter what."
She lunged, grunted, panting and wiggling against his unbreakable hold. But her fragile strength was already wearing down, no match for his. Her head lolled back against his shoulder and he saw her eyes close. “You've already hurt me."
He knew she didn't mean physically. “I know you think that, sweetheart. But which was worse—hearing me say that I love you,” he paused to let those words sink in, “or the other part?” He gazed down at her face where it rested on his shoulder. “Which scared you more? Which made you run?"
A frown marred her brow. “Both—the last. I don't—” she shook her head as though confused. “Put me down, please. I won't be violent."
He let her slide down his body, knowing she would feel his condition, but there was nothing he could do about it. Her wiggling had been a major turn on.
He realized his mistake the minute he set her free. She whirled on him and planted one small, balled fist in the center of his chest. “You bastard! How dare you?” It didn't hurt, he barely felt it, but the pure unexpectedness of the action got an ‘ummph’ out of him which seemed to satisfy her. She shoved him again, backing him up several steps and then coming after him. “How dare you!” She stomped her foot and Nick's eyebrows rose as he studied the heightened color in her delicate, furious little face. Maybe last night had released more than her sexual hang-ups. “You're trying to put the blame for this—"she made jerky gesture between herself and him, “on me! When it was you saying you wanted your brother to have me!"
Nick held his hands up in surrender, “I know what you heard. Fuck knows if I could redo that whole scene I would. And I know what Jake said, but he was full of shit and didn't mean it! Christ Morgan, you saw me knock him on his ass for it!"
"Last night,” she went on as if he hadn't said a word, “last night was the most wonderful thing that I've ever experienced! But then,” her eyes teared and she paused, sniffling and wiping at her nose with her hand, “then I came out here today and heard you saying you l-loved me. And that turned into the most wonderful thing because I ... I...” her bottom lip quivered and she swung around, giving him her back. Her silky hair swung, tempting his touch and he gathered a thick lock in his hand, letting the strands flow through his fingers the same way they had last night.
"You what, Morgan?” He already knew, deep in his gut because Morgan simply wasn't the type of woman to sleep with a man, to trust a man with that part of her, without that one last little factor. “Tell me sweetheart. I can handle it."
"Because ... I-I love you too,” she muttered.
Nick let out a shout of laughter while a wild surge of energy thrummed through his body. She loved him. “Well hell. Don't sound so miserable about it sweetheart."
Her eyes shot golden daggers at him over her shoulder. “Well I should feel miserable! Because then you turned into an-an,” she sputtered and flung a hand up in the air, “asshole, and you ruin what could have been something beautiful and romantic.” She hunched her shoulders, collapsing in on herself, and finished in a small, tight voice. “It made me feel like I did when I realized what my marriage was going to be like."
Her words hit Nick like a sucker punch to the gut. Nausea churned in his stomach as her broken little voice whispered them over and over again in his mind. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back. “Oh no, baby, no,” he groaned, “please don't say that. I never want to make you feel that way.” He moved closer to her, crowding her with his bulk, and turned her around in his arms. “No, don't struggle."
He held her loosely, easily, caging her a
gainst his chest with one arm wrapped around her back. He cupped his hand under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “I said Jake would be better for you because there are ... things you don't know Morgan, things about me and my past. Its part of why you heard me say what I did and why Jake responded to it."
"So tell me what that is.” Her eyes and voice pleaded with him. A few wisps of hair had caught on her cheek and he swept them behind her ear. He let his fingers linger, tips stroking and caressing. “Please,” she whispered. “You say you love me, so if I'm not supposed to be upset about what I heard, then tell me what I need to know."
Nick let out a long shuddering breath and shook his head, hating the cowardice that ate him up inside. “I love you Morgan, but I-I just can't ... not yet."
She pulled out of his arms and backed away. Trails of silvery tears streaked her pale cheeks. “I'm sorry Nick,” she said in a shaky voice, “but I've lived a life of lies and secrets before. I won't do it again."
* * * *
Nick stared at the empty spot where Morgan had stood, letting his eyes trace the imprint of her shoes until the image was implanted in his brain. His cowardice had cost him, no doubt. More than he ever thought it would. He sighed, wanting to run and chase her down again. To demand she accept him but let him keep the truth to himself.
"I've lived a life of lies and secrets before. I won't do it again."
Hearing those words had hurt. Being kicked in the teeth would have probably felt better. Having her put him in the same category as her marriage had almost knocked him to his knees. But she was right, he admitted. She deserved better. As the woman he loved she deserved better.
Nick rubbed his fists against his eyes, surprised to feel wetness coat his knuckles. Hell, he couldn't blame her. That existence wasn't fair to either of them, but most especially her. And to think everyone thought ex-cons were tough. Hah. Not when a woman was involved. Wearily he scrubbed a hand down his face, wondering how things had turned to shit so quickly.
A hand clamped down hard on his shoulder. Nick looked over to see Jake's concerned green eyes staring at him.
He rolled his eyes, “Get the pity off your face, Jake. I don't need it."
"Why the hell are you standing here?” Jake shoved him in the shoulder. “You need to go after her, Nick. Right now. Get off the fucking woe-is-me machine, grow some balls and tell her the truth goddamnit!” Jake treated him to another shove, this one harder than the last. “If you don't Nick—"Jake leaned in until they were nose to nose. “You will lose that woman forever. And damned if she'll ever trust another man."
"I don't want her to trust another man,” he growled, and then winced at the selfishness of the statement.
"So quit letting a shitty label dictate your life,” Jake said. “You know what you have to do. Make a choice, either go after her and win her back, or just stand there, pissing into the wind and lose her forever."
His truck keys were in the house so Nick started in that direction, then remembered the blow Jake had taken. He cleared his throat and turned back to Jake. “About earlier,” he said, “I'm, uh ... sorry I hit you."
Jake huffed a laugh, then winced and gingerly poked at his jawbone, “Yeah, well, I was partway expecting it given the shit I was saying. Can't believe I'd forgotten how hard you hit though. Now,” he clapped Nick on the back in an all-is-forgiven way, “go on, before you lose your woman. I don't want to even consider what being around you will be like if that happens. So do us both a favor and don't fuck this up."
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Chapter 28
The cold, clammy sickness in Nick's gut threatened to swallow his nerve. Gone was the calm, cool demeanor he was famous for, replaced by a monster known as desperation.
He loved her. She loved him. Damnit ... those factors alone had to be enough. What the hell was being in love good for if it failed to solve this problem?
In the middle of a turn the steering wheel slipped loosely beneath his slick palms, forcing him to brace it with his knee while he wiped the sweat on his jeans. Several times his foot had risen off the gas pedal; slowing the huge truck down to almost a crawl until the engine faltered and almost died. But then her sweet voice would sound in his head saying the words he had wanted—craved—but never expected so soon.
I love you too.
His determination renewed, shoving aside the clawing sensation of impending doom. Morgan loved him. She had trusted him with her body, had trusted him to show her how making love should be, had trusted him not to hurt her. A woman like her did not express her love lightly. God knows he hoped he could convince her she hadn't made a mistake, that he was worthy of her love, no matter what he had done in the past. No matter what fucking label he had to live with.
Nick's booted foot pressed down on the accelerator and the truck jerked, tires squealing as rubber gripped pavement. The thick sheltering woods outside his windows once again became a greenish-brown blur as he guided the truck along the road toward her house.
She wasn't there when he banged on the door ten minutes later. To be sure she wasn't just avoiding him he picked the lock on the back door and let himself in. He walked through the kitchen and down the hallway, searching for any sign that she was home. Her bedroom was at the very end of the hall and he poked his head in the open door. A myriad of scents tickled his nostrils. The subtle clean smell of body lotion and another, more exotic perfumed smell—Cashmere Mist, he suddenly remembered her saying and couldn't stop from imagining her slathering those creams and perfumes all over her body after a hot bath. His eyes strayed to the rumpled bed and instantly his brain flash-backed, highlighting in bright lights the night he had worshipped her with his tongue, tasted her secret flesh and drank in her spicy sweetness. She had gifted him with her first orgasm.
While he had given her her first taste of pleasure.
An ache formed low in the pit of his belly. Nick breathed deeply in and out several times, but the ache stayed, clenched tight as a fist, reminding him of all he had to lose.
Damn.
Heading down the hallway he stopped at the only closed door. A quick twist of the knob and it fell open. The faint aroma of paint thinner hit him first, then the bright streams of daylight coming in the bare window showcased paintings in various stages of completion. They hung on the walls or sat on homemade easels around the room. Mostly landscapes with a few seascapes here and there.
He walked farther into the room, absorbing this inner sanctum of talent. A collection on one wall appeared to be devoted to wild animals and Nick found himself staring into the curious, yet wary eyes of a Zebra, forever caught on the edge of flight.
One large painting in the corner caught his eye. It was covered by a white sheet. Curiosity peaked he went over and carefully lifted the protective sheet. Nick stared at the image of himself looking intense and arrogant, sitting on a dark horse riding down the middle of a street, the distant Montana Mountains creating a breathtaking backdrop. A grin broke out over his face, so wide and ridiculous that it strained the muscles in his jawbones. The harsh sensation of impending doom lessened as he stared in wonder at the meticulous painting and gazed into the blue inkiness of his own eyes, picturing her bent over the painting, carefully holding her paintbrush, stroking and blending the colors of his face and body until perfected. Her talent and love of her art was obvious and he couldn't help the sweep of pride that ran through him.
Using extra care he replaced the sheet over the canvas and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He exited the same way he had entered, being sure to lock the door behind him, and then headed out across her field. When he reached the broken down fence separating her yard from the woods he hesitated as doubts assailed him once again, rolling in queasy circles around the pit of his belly. He could get back in his truck and go, she would never know he had been there searching for her. Never know he had seen the painting, never know any of it—his past ... his shame ... no, she would just think he had let her go.
That her ‘been there done that’ reasoning had satisfied him and he had seen the light.
And, like Jake had said, she would be destroyed again, left thinking he didn't care about her, didn't love her like he said he did.
There was no way he could live with that.
Taking courage from her immortalized tribute to him Nick relaxed his mind, letting the tension flow out of his brain, down his veins to his fingertips and then out of his body, knowing exactly where he was going to find her.
* * * *
The stream flowed lazily along. The glistening, clear water breaking over rocks and fallen limbs, tickling her toes with its wetly trailing fingers. The tears had long since dried on her cheeks, leaving her skin faintly itchy, but for some reason she refused to rinse her face in the gently flowing stream, somehow feeling that doing so would corrupt its clear beauty. So the tears had dried and now she itched. A fitting, yet annoying reminder of the choice she had given Nick—tell her everything, or let her go. Apparently letting her go had been the easier of the two.
She would have to move again. There was no way she could live here, exist here, while the years passed, chipping away at her heart and soul, knowing that Nick was only a walk-through-the-woods away, riding his horses, cleaning stalls, working shirtless in the hot summer heat ... entertaining new women.
Telling them he loved them...
Fresh tears welled, ignored her attempts to blink them away and overflowed down her cheeks, taking the last of the itchiness with them.
She sensed his approach before she heard him. Her skin tightened, tingled the way it did whenever he touched her, alerting her to his presence. That essence of raw power preceding him, sending out shockwaves that touched her hair, her skin, her body, before he even made himself known. A subtle prickling along her spine varied her breaths, making them shallow and uneven. Against her will other parts of her responded too, becoming soft, moist ... and ready...
Damn him, she thought angrily. Her body was attuned to his now, just like an animal who senses their mate. He had put his mark on her body, her mind, and her soul. She should have been smarter than that; better able to prevent it from occurring, but the thrumming in her body wouldn't cease, not even when her mind replayed over his jerkiness earlier.
