Brash (14 page)

He backed away, nearly to the edge of the grass.
As she rose into the air, and as he grew smaller and smaller, she settled into her seat and thought about closing her eyes for a while. But something was buzzing in her purse. She opened it, pulled out her phone, and started checking her e-mails and texts. Her heart leapt when she saw a text from him. He'd sent it just seconds after takeoff.

Let me know when you're home safe. —C

Cole exited the helicopter, bags in hand, and strode across the back lawn of Redemption Ranch. It had been two days since he'd been back to River Black, but, for some reason he refused to acknowledge, it felt closer to a month.

With a quick glance at the nearly finished house his brother and Mac were now occupying, he headed for his truck. Though he appreciated Deacon's generosity with the rides to and from Austin, he wasn't in the mood to chat. He wanted to check on Grace and Belle. See if they had missed him. See if one smiled and the other howled when he opened the door.

Christ, he was an idiot.

“Welcome back, brother.”

“Shit,” Cole ground out.

“What's that?” Deacon called from the porch.
He headed down the steps and over to where Cole had parked his truck.

“Just sayin' thanks for the lift.” Cole tossed his bags in the back of the truck.

“Anytime,” he said, leaning back against the driver's-side door. “You know you could always get one of your own. I know you got plenty of cash socked away in a mattress or two somewhere.”

“Sure. But where would I park it?”

“Backyard works for me.” Deacon shrugged. “Wouldn't hurt you to set down some roots, Cole.”

“Actually, I think it would,” Cole returned. “Excuse me. Someplace to be.”

Deacon pushed away from the door. “A house here in River Black could be interesting.”

“Come on, big brother,” Cole said, climbing into the cab. He started her up and rolled down the window. “You know that'll never be my way. Can't be. Home was always where Cass was. When she went . . .” He shook his head. “Hotel is just fine.”

Deacon stared at him for a second. “I didn't know that about you. Didn't know that's why you lived like you do.”

“We all have our scars from that battle,” Cole said. “The shit we feel we'll never get over or forgive ourselves for.”

“Wasn't your fault, Cole.”

“Sure.” He nodded. “Wasn't yours either.”

A look of mutual understanding passed between them. Then Deacon crossed his arms over his chest. “Does Dr. Hunter know that you're never going to settle down in this town?”

Just the sound of her name sent a rush of adrenaline-laced desire through him. “She knows I live in a hotel. And she's pretty accepting of it.”

“You need to tell her,” Deacon countered. “It's not fair, Cole.”

Cole dropped back against the seat and sighed. “I know.”

Deacon glanced at the house, then back again. “Listen, she's visiting her dad right now. She called a little while ago, invited us all to come by and talk with Sheriff Hunter.”

“Well, let's go. What're you waiting around for?”

“I think you should go. I think I want to know what happened to Cass so badly it aches inside me. But I'm not willing to bombard an old man who's sick in the head to get it.” He blew out a breath. “Go gently. See what you can find out.”

Cole studied his elder brother. The guy used to be consumed with hate and vengeance. But things had changed in the past couple of months. Mac had changed him. Like Sheridan had changed James. Cole used to think that was a bad thing. A loss of control. But he wondered what that kind of peace felt like.

He shoved the truck in reverse, then called out the window at Deacon, “I'll let you know.”

Deacon nodded. “And hey—don't forget Palmer's arraignment tomorrow morning.”

As if I could,
Cole thought as he gave his brother a casual wave, then backed up and headed out of the driveway. But first he was going to see Grace.

*   *   *

“Jell-O is a very underrated dessert,” Grace stated. “I especially like the orange. It's got just the right amount of tang. I appreciate you giving it to me.”

There was no reply. Which was becoming standard with her father over the past two days. She sat in a chair beside his bed while Belle lay at the foot. Grace had been forced to hoist the basset hound up there because her howling in protest had brought the nurses rushing into the room.

“So what are you watching, Dad?”

“Project Runway,”
he said, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“Do you watch it often?”

“It's my favorite. All them pretty gals. Reminds me of Millie.”

Grace's heart squeezed with the mention of her mother.

“You didn't know my wife,” her father continued. “But she sure liked to dress up fine. Beautiful woman.” He stuck his chin out. “I wish she was here with me now.”

Me too.

“But she's gone. Dead. So many people dead.”

Who was he talking about? People here in the care facility? People he used to know?

Cass?

And where were the Cavanaugh brothers? Where was Cole? She'd called several hours ago, invited them. She'd thought they'd be here in a heartbeat. Questions in hand. It hadn't been an easy decision to allow them access to her dad, but she knew they weren't going to stop pushing,

She closed her eyes briefly. How far was
she
going to push? How hard?

“Who besides Millie passed on, Dad?” she asked. Her heart was beating so fast she could feel nothing else.

“Look at that,” he exclaimed, pointing at the TV. “A dress made out of flowers. How'd they do that?”

“I don't know,” she said.

“Millie would've loved a dress made of flowers.”

It was too much. It hurt too badly. He was fading away from her. Dementia had him in its grip. “I think Grace would love a dress made of flowers too. Pink flowers.”

He turned then and looked at her. “Who's Grace?”

Tears pricked Grace's eyes.
No. Oh, no, no, no.
“She's your daughter.”

“I don't have a daughter. Me and Millie never were fortunate enough.” He turned back to the
television. “That Heidi Klum couldn't hold a candle to my Millie.”

Pain lanced through Grace. She couldn't hold on to herself any longer. She stood up and walked out of the room. She heard the
click-clack
of Belle's toenails behind her, but she didn't stop until she was out the door and in the sunshine. She put on Belle's leash, tears streaming down her face, and was about to run to the car when she ran into a man instead.

“Grace?”

It was Cole. Finally Cole.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice edged with concern. “Christ, baby. What happened? Are you okay?”

She couldn't speak. She just clung to him and cried.

He made her leave her car there. Said they'd come back to get it. Then tucked her into his side in the truck and took her home. Once there, he made her some weak coffee and brought it out to her on the porch. She was sitting on the weathered bench, and her hands shook around the cup.

She hadn't said a thing to him. On the drive. Or when she got home. About what had happened inside the senior care center. But he was worried. Seeing her pale and in pain made him crazy.

He came around to face her and squatted down on his haunches. “Talk to me.”

When she didn't answer, he touched her chin gently and lifted her eyes to his. But once she looked up at him, the floodgates opened and tears streamed down her cheeks.

“Grace . . .”

She shook her head. “I went to see Palmer.”

His gut tightened. “What? When? Dammit, Grace. He's a monster. He could've . . .” He looked away, then back again.

“I tried to get something from him. Anything. To admit he knew something about Cass. But”—her voice broke—“he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about.”

“I wish you hadn't gone there,” Cole said. “Alone.”

“All he wanted to talk about was my dad. What a good guy he is.” Her eyes lifted to meet his. “I failed, Cole. I wanted to get you something from Palmer. Something from my dad. But . . .” She shook her head.

He felt her anger, her frustration. He wanted to take them both away. “What happened?” he asked gently.

“My dad didn't say anything about Palmer or what happened back then,” she said with a slight bitter edge to her tone. “He's just getting worse. Further and further away from me . . . from reality.”

The pain in her eyes sliced through him. “I don't care about that right now. Any of it. I care about you.” And damn if he didn't mean it. He stayed where he was and took her hands in his.

She deflated instantly. “He doesn't know me.”

“But that's happened before, right? He's gone in and out.”

Her eyes swam with tears. “He doesn't think he
even had a daughter. At all. That he and my mom never had a child.”

Cole stared at her, his chest tight. The war inside him was a dark, demented one. On one side he had this woman he was starting to fall for. This woman he cared about more than he should. And she was in pain. Because of the father she loved. On the other side, he had the boy whose twin sister had been ripped from his life. The boy who grew to be a man who constantly fought to keep his soul intact and his ass out of jail. A man who looked at every opponent as the monster who killed his sister.

The man and the boy wanted answers. At all costs.

A light rain began to fall, hitting the stones beyond the porch with a pitter-patter.

“I'm so sorry, Doc,” he said softly.

She nodded. “Thank you. And thanks for taking me home and making me coffee. You didn't have to.”

He reached up and wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “What else can I do?”

“Nothing.” She was quiet for a moment, then said, “It was just a shock, you know?”

“Sure.”

“You think you'll always belong to at least your family. You never think it's possible to belong to no one.”

Cole struggled for words. She would belong to
someone. Someday. A good, solid, openhearted man who lived in River Black and wanted nothing more from her than her heart. Christ, she deserved that. She deserved someone honorable.

He sniffed bitterly.
Like the Rev.

Behind him, the sky broke open and the rain began to fall for real, in thick, hard sheets.

Grace looked past his shoulder and laughed softly. “I swear we attract this weather.”

“Living life in the gray,” he said. “That's how we do. Sometimes the sunshine is too bright, lights up all the things you don't want to see. Or are afraid to see. You know what I mean?”

She nodded. “Oh boy, do I ever.” She took a healthy swallow of her coffee. “I need to get to the clinic. I'm late as it is.”

“No you don't.”

“I have a patient today. Teeth cleaning on a very ornery golden retriever.”

“I called the clinic just now. I told Rudy you weren't feeling well. He said he'd take care of it, reschedule.”

Her face darkened and her entire body went rigid. “When did you do that?”

“When I was making the coffee,” he explained. His eyes searched hers. “Are you mad?”

“Yes, I'm mad. You don't just take over someone's life like that.” Her voice caught and she turned away.

He inched closer to her. “I wasn't trying to take
over, Doc. I swear.” Fuck, he'd messed this up. Didn't know how to do this.

“You made a decision for me without even consulting me.” She wasn't looking at him. And her voice was warbling again.

“Christ, Doc, you were upset. Cryin'. I thought you needed time or something—”

“That wasn't your place, Cole. You're not my boyfriend. You're not my anything. You're just here to get information.”

“Hey.” He touched her cheek, turned her to face him.

Her eyes were filled with tears again. “Well, I don't have any. I have nothing—” Her voice broke and she started to cry again. She put her head in her hands and crumpled back down on the chair. “Fuck, I can't believe I don't exist.”

Cole stood up and slid one arm under her shoulders and another under her knees. “It's okay,” he said, lifting her into his arms. “It's going to be okay, Doc.”

He carried her inside the house and into her pink bedroom. He placed her down on the bed, then slipped in beside her. He pulled her close until her cheek rested on her chest, and then he just let her cry it out.

Strangest thing, he thought, staring up at the ceiling, stroking her hair. And probably one of the most striking. He hadn't comforted anyone in a long time. Not since Cass.

*   *   *

When Grace woke, it was near dark. At first, she wasn't sure where she was, what she was lying on, or whose arms she was wrapped in. Then the afternoon came rushing back to claim her, and both pain and heat filled her body.

“Cole?” she whispered.

“I'm here, Doc.”

She could feel the vibration of his voice against her cheek. “You didn't have to . . .”

“I know,” he said quickly. “Wanted to. That's the thing.” His hand moved in circles on her back. “I'm not good at it. Don't know how to do it well. But I want to. A lot.”

She knew exactly what he meant. What little experience she'd had with relationships hadn't turned out well. This one, whatever it was, felt good, right. And yet . . . “Does that scare you? How much you want it?”

“Yup.”

She smiled softly and nuzzled against him. “Why?”

“Because I'm not made to care for someone.”

“And yet you did. You are.”

A beat. Then, “Long term.”

Grace inhaled deeply. “No one's asking for that.”

“Yeah, but they might deserve it. They do deserve it.”

It was obvious that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him. Heck, her thigh was resting
across his groin. But she also knew that he was trying to let her know that she deserved someone—anyone—but him. He thought he wasn't worthy of her. He thought he wasn't worthy, period. How did she combat that? How did she convince him that he was?

You can't,
her heart warned her. You can only accept what's here now. Enjoy what's here now. And if at some point Cole walks away, then he does. And life will go on. Rain will still fall. Dogs and cats and horses will need help.
But maybe, for the first time, you'll know what love feels like.

“How did training go?” she asked softly. “Sorry I didn't ask you before. Did you massacre Reg again?”

She could almost hear him smile. “Only sparred with Reg once. It's all he would give me. Seems I'm borderin' on animal when I'm out there. No one wants to get too close or go too long.”

A little thrill moved through her at his words. This tender, tatted-up badass. “Matty must be thankful for that.”

“Matty wondered where you were,” he said. “You two have a conversation while I was in the ring?”

“I think he's under the impression that I bring out your animal side.”

“He'd be right,” Cole said darkly.

“Well, I have yet to witness it.”

A low growl sounded and Grace felt him move
away from her. In seconds, she was on her back and Cole loomed over her. Her heart started to beat wildly in her chest. She knew they couldn't have sex. Not yet. Not now. She knew he wouldn't allow her to touch him. Not yet. Not now. So when he started unbuttoning her jeans and yanking down the zipper, she knew exactly what she was in for.

“Cole . . .” she started, heat pooling low in her belly.

His eyes glittered like black diamonds, and the shadows caused by the slashes of rain against the window behind her made his expression deliciously fierce.

“I'm hungry, Grace,” he said. “I missed lunch.”

Her heart jumped in her blood and she couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face. “Poor baby.”

He returned her smile, his teeth gleaming white. He started to ease her jeans down over her hips, then yanked them to her ankles and off onto the floor.

Grace fidgeted against the mattress, eager yet frustrated too. “It's not fair. I don't get to touch you. You get nothing—”

“Stop.” He pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it, then managed a sort of reverse pushup, so they were nearly nose to nose. “You have no idea the pleasure I get from touching you,” he whispered. “Tasting you.”

Grace lost her breath.

Until Cole kissed her. Softly, gently.

Then her instinct was to wrap her legs around his waist and hold on tight. Forget the fight. Forget herself. Just exist in a world where Cole Cavanaugh existed inside her. But that couldn't be tonight.

When he pulled away from her, she groaned, missing him instantly. She watched him move down her body, his muscles bunching, the lines and symbols of his tattoos moving as if alive. Until he was between her legs.

As the rain pounded the windows behind her, Cole Cavanaugh nuzzled her sex through the thin cotton of her underwear.

“I want these,” he said, giving the fabric a nip. “Want to carry them around in my back pocket so I can smell you all day.”

She laughed and groaned simultaneously. “You are completely perverted, Cole Cavanaugh.”

“Get used to it,” he returned, then suckled her through the fabric.

Grace's hands fisted the sheets as every nerve ending in her body stood at attention. This man drove her to distraction, captivated her. Made her wish there was no world outside these walls and that the rain would never stop.

She felt his fingers on her inner thigh; then he pulled the cotton fabric aside and licked her from entrance to clit. She gasped and her hips jerked up.

“You are the sweetest,” he whispered between gentle flicks to her swollen bud.

“Oh God, Cole . . .” She came up on her elbows. She wanted to watch him.

He was so focused, his tongue pressed flat against her sex. Slowly, he moved in circles. Grace could hardly hold her weight. The buildup inside her was quick and almost painful and made her feel frantic. She wanted everything at once. His fingers inside her. His cock inside her. She wanted to flip around to that ridiculous sixty-nine position and suck on him as he was now sucking on her.

And then Cole penetrated her with his tongue. Her head dropped back, and as he pumped inside her she felt the heat fill her, swell within her. She was going to come. She didn't want to. She wanted more of this, of him. But it was too late. Cole drove up inside her and started flicking his tongue deep within her pussy. Grace cried out and bucked against him, letting her body take the orgasm it craved. Never had she felt like this. Never. What would she do if this was it? If this ended? If Cole Cavanaugh never touched her again?

She sat up, sending him back. Her eyes met his as her hand wrapped around the thick shaft straining inside his jeans.

“Hungry?” he asked, his lips glistening with her arousal.

“Starved,” she hissed.

She got to stroke him once. Down his shaft. Then Cole's hand covered hers and he shook his head. “Can't.” His pupils were dilated and his nostrils flared. “Now I'm going to get the fuck off this bed and you're going to take those panties off, give them to me, then slip your jeans back on and be ready in five minutes.”

“Why?” she asked breathlessly.

“We're going to dinner.” He pushed himself back and off the bed. “You said you were hungry.”

“Not for food.” She pouted.

He stood there for a moment looking down at her with jaw tight, muscles blazing, and tattoos so ready to be licked. “Sorry, Doc. That's all I can give you right now.”