Discovering You (11 page)

She must've seen his confusion because she explained. “If he'd beaten me to a bloody pulp, it wouldn't have been so hard for all our friends and his family to believe I wasn't in league with him, and I wouldn't be such a pariah.”

“Charlie's family turned against you, too?”

“Not completely. Not yet. But I'm afraid that's coming.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Things between us feel...different, strained.”

“And if he'd nearly killed you, everyone would know you were as much of a victim as Charlie was. Is that it?”

“Exactly. And then...”

“Then?”

The bell over the door jingled as a small group of tourists entered the shop. After glancing up and taking note of them, she lowered her voice. “Then maybe I could forgive myself for not doing more. If I'd managed to call for help, maybe I could've saved Charlie.”

They'd come full circle—back to the guilt she felt, which was probably why she could remember only the good things about her husband. “So why didn't you call?”

“At one point I got hold of a phone. But Sebastian told me he'd kill Cassia if I didn't put it down.”

“You don't believe he would've done it?”

She bit her lip. “Could he really kill a child? I don't know. That's the thing. The threat
seemed
real. He'd just shot my husband. But I keep going over and over the events of that night, wondering if I could've done this or could've done that. And everyone else has done the same, questioned my every move.”

“Let it go,” he said. “You had no choice.”

“I wish it were that easy.”

So did Rod. The questions she was asking herself were terrible. “What if” was always hard, but it would be excruciating in this serious a situation. “You acted in the safest way you could. You need to accept that.”

She opened her mouth to respond but didn't get the chance. Someone else called his name. “Rod!”

When he looked up, he saw Theresa Santiago, a girl he dated now and then. They weren't in a committed relationship. She was as aware of that as he was. But because she sometimes acted as if she'd like to get serious, she wasn't one of the people he'd hoped India would meet when he brought her out for ice cream.

Only Melody would've been worse.

“Hi, Theresa.” He stood and collected the napkins they'd used, to signal that they were leaving.

“What are you doing here?” Theresa's eyes cut to India.

“Just enjoying the night,” he replied. “You?”

She didn't bother shifting her attention back to him. Clearly, she wondered who India was—and what they meant to each other. “Same thing,” she replied, except that she was alone, which made him think she'd stopped in because she'd seen his truck on the street. “Did you get my message?” she asked.

“About the barbecue next Saturday? I haven't had a chance to check my schedule. I'll do that and get back to you.”

“Okay.” She gestured at India. “Is this...a new friend? I don't believe we've met.”

The garbage can was only a couple of steps away. Rod walked over and tossed in the napkins before returning to the table. “This is India Sommers, my new neighbor.”

“The woman who bought the house next door?”

“That's me.” Wearing a polite smile, India held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Wow. I was hoping you'd be older.” She looked thoroughly disheartened as they shook hands. “And I think I'd feel better if you weren't so attractive.”

Rod hadn't expected Theresa to make her interest in him so obvious. She'd never been that bold in the past. He was about to say something about how she'd always been a great friend. He felt he needed to clarify their relationship, since India seemed a little confused. But India spoke while he was still trying to come up with the kindest way to phrase what he wanted to say.

“I'm no competition,” she said. “Rod and I just met.”

Theresa studied him, as if she was taking note of the fact that he'd dressed up—and then he remembered refusing to be her date to a friend's wedding because it would mean putting on a jacket and tie. “Well, if you're like me, it won't take you long to fall in love with him,” she said. Then she nodded in his direction. “Have fun.”

India remained silent until Theresa had walked out. “Please tell me that woman isn't your girlfriend,” she said.

“No. We've been out a few times, that's all.”

“Did you know she was in love with you?”

He scratched his neck. “I'm pretty sure she was joking when she said that.”

India tilted her head to give him a “no way” look. “I'm pretty sure she wasn't.”

Well, she'd certainly picked a fine time to tell him. “I've never made her any promises.”

“But you have slept with her.”

“Casually. And not often.”

“Have you ever had a serious girlfriend?”

“I've had a few,” he said, but he didn't want to talk about the last one. What Melody had to say wouldn't recommend him to any woman but would especially frighten someone like India, who'd been abused by men in the past.

“Let's go.” He jerked his head toward the door. “I'll take you for a ride on my brother's bike, since mine's not working at the moment.”

“You're not comfortable with this subject,” she guessed, watching him closely.

“Like I said, I've never made Theresa any promises.”

She said nothing.

“About that motorcycle ride...”

“I'd have to change my clothes.”

“Of course.”

She didn't seem convinced it was a good idea. “Motorcycles are dangerous, even when the driver has full use of both hands.”

He slipped his left arm around her shoulders as they walked to his truck. “
Babe
, who do you think you're talking to?” he teased, hoping to put the melancholy of their earlier conversation, and the awkwardness of running into Theresa, behind them. He felt it was time for India to forget her problems and have some fun.

“Who
am
I talking to?” she quipped, playing along.

“Someone who's been riding his whole life,” he replied. “You have nothing to worry about. I'll take care of you.”

10

T
he rush of the wind and the roar of the engine seemed to block out all other sensation, except the feel of Rod's back against her chest. When they'd first started, India had been terrified. She'd almost insisted he stop and let her off. The last time she'd ridden on a bike, she'd been in a bad accident, and the one Rod had borrowed from Grady was about as big and powerful as she'd ever seen—not to mention that she was trusting a driver who had only one good hand. But Rod seemed to manage the bike effortlessly despite his cast. The longer she rode with him, the more she came to trust his ability and embrace the rush of excitement.

She even began to wonder if, in her fear of getting hurt, she'd become overly cautious. Had she given up too much?

Maybe, because she'd never felt more carefree than she did as they leaned in to each curve of the winding, mountainous road. She no longer felt like the wife who'd watched her husband killed. Or the wife who'd fallen under suspicion for that terrible act. Or the mother who was afraid she'd soon have a custody battle on her hands.

She was just...living in the moment, and she didn't want that moment to end. Rod was so sure of himself. She wished she could hang on to him all night, without having to identify the reason or feel guilty for having that desire. It felt as if he was slowly bringing her back to life, or at least reminding her that life was still worth living, and that made her want to be with him more and more.

When they reached the summit, he pulled into a turnout and shut off the engine.

“You okay back there?” he asked as he removed his helmet.

She got off the bike, removed her own helmet and shook out her hair. “Yeah. That was fun,” she said. “Quite an experience.”

He seemed slightly surprised by her enthusiasm. “I thought you were scared to death.”

“Only at first. After that I loved it.” He was a big part of the reason, but she didn't let on. “Will you teach me to drive?”

“Sure.”

“Tonight?”

He laughed. “No. When we have access to a bike that fits you. You wouldn't even be able to hold this one up.”

He was probably right, so she didn't argue. “Someday I'll buy one,” she mused. She had a lot to worry about before then, but it was fun to dream of a time she'd feel safe and secure enough to consider such a purchase.

“I can help you look when you're ready,” Rod offered.

She liked that he didn't try to discourage her. Charlie, bless his conservative heart, would've told her how foolish that was, how dangerous owning a bike would be, how many other places they could and should put the money before “wasting” it on a toy like that.

And he'd be right. That was the quandary.

“It's beautiful up here,” she said as she gazed at the red-and-orange sunset.

Rod beckoned her to the mountain's edge. “You haven't seen anything yet,” he told her.

The vista below nearly stole her breath.

She climbed onto a rock so she could be as high as possible.

“Careful,” he warned.

“I'm tired of being careful,” she said. “Tired of being worried. Tired of trying to compensate for all the things that have gone wrong in my life.”

“Good. Anger is the next step in the healing process. It'll make you strong.”

“Is this our destination?” she asked after she'd allowed herself a few more minutes to enjoy what he'd brought her to see.

“It is if you're ready to go back. If not, I'll show you a pretty lake I found a few months ago. It's not much farther.”

“I don't want to go back,” she said. “I don't think I
ever
want to go back.”

She could feel him studying her, but she didn't look over. She wasn't about to explain that statement or apologize for it. Of course she didn't
mean
it. She would never run out on her daughter. But this chance to escape all the bad memories was a welcome reprieve.

“Let's head out,” he said.

She hopped onto the bike far more eagerly this time and slid her arms around his lean waist. “Go faster!” she yelled once they'd started.

He couldn't hear her until she put up her face mask. Then, with a grin, he nodded—and obliged.

The ride was exhilarating. India felt happier than she'd been since before Charlie died. Whenever something her husband would've said or done came to mind, she ignored it and focused strictly on the solid frame of the man she clung to. She liked the feel of Rod so much that it was shockingly easy to enjoy his close proximity—something that, once again, she refused to think about.

After they reached the sign he'd been looking for, they parked and he led her down a short, wooded path to a small lake. It was getting dark. With the sun barely a brushstroke of gold in the west and a giant, ghostlike moon climbing into the sky on the other side, they seemed to be witnessing the day's last gasp.

That seemed...significant, as if she was also witnessing the last gasp of her old life before she allowed it to slip away for good.

“It's nice and cool here,” she said and took off her shoes to wade in the lake.

Rod stood farther up the shore.

“You're not getting in?” She turned to see why he wasn't joining her.

“No. I'm happy just to watch you.”

She stopped moving and stared back at him.

“You're beautiful,” he said. “You know that, I hope.”

“God, you're...”

“What?”

“Tempting,” she finished.

His boyish grin made him even more tempting. “You act like that's a problem.”

Her heart was suddenly pounding so hard she could barely speak. “It is!”

“Why?”

“Because sex between us now...it wouldn't be casual. We...we couldn't do casual. Not anymore.”

“I never wanted casual in the first place, not with you.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “What's different about
me
?”

“I don't know. Something. So what's wrong with intense?”

She wasn't ready to open herself up to that much emotion. It didn't seem fair to Charlie. And even if she wasn't still struggling to get over him, she was terrified of what she might feel with Rod—and where it might lead. She couldn't risk making another mistake. She had no more reserves, no way to rebound if it turned out all wrong. “There's no point in starting anything. I probably won't be able to stay in Whiskey Creek.”

“You can stay. I won't let Sebastian or anyone else chase you out,” he said. And the crazy thing was she almost believed him.

“There's nothing you can do. He's willing to go too far. You can't get involved, anyway. I don't want anyone else hurt.”

“You don't have to worry about me. I can look out for myself.” He came over, stepped into the water with his motorcycle boots on and took her hands.

India told herself to back away. She could easily do that; he wasn't restricting her movement, wasn't hanging on tight.

Instead, she stood transfixed, waiting for his lips to touch hers.

They did, but far too briefly. When he lifted his head, she felt a heavy dose of sexual frustration.

He knew what he was doing, she realized, knew exactly how to weaken her resolve.

“But if you want me, you're going to have to give me a real chance.”

She shook her head. “I can't. Charlie was my husband! Cassia's father!”

“The man you've told me about wouldn't want you to be alone, India. If you're ever going to be happy again, you have to let go. You
have
to.”

She closed her eyes. “That's easier said than done.”

“I know. But he'd want you to
live
your life. Don't let the past ruin the future.”

She wanted to ignore caution, respond the way her body dictated and forget everything else. But her child was at stake. What if the Sommerses learned about her involvement with another man? They'd never believe she truly loved Charlie. That she'd had nothing to do with his death.

Maybe she was even being watched by the police. Maybe Detective Flores now believed Sebastian's defense attorney and was actively gathering proof against
her
. That could be the reason they'd freed Sebastian.

Regardless, if she got involved with another man at this stage, especially a guy like Rod, it wouldn't reflect well on her.

“I can't offer you anything other than a casual encounter,” she said. “Here. Now. And no one can know about it.”

“I'm not satisfied with that,” he said. “Quit making stipulations. Quit holding back. We go into this with at least some hope for more or we don't go into it at all.”

She nearly slid her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. She craved the feel of him against her, wanted him to help her forget all her fears. But she
couldn't
start a new relationship, or she wouldn't be able to respect herself, let alone command any respect from Charlie's family or Detective Flores.

“Then I have no choice,” she said.

He stepped back. “We'll see.”

That wasn't the response she'd been expecting. “Excuse me?”

“Since you're going to be sleeping in my bed from now on, you can let me know when you're ready.”

She felt her jaw drop. “Who said I was going to be sleeping in your bed?”

“
I
did. You can't stay at your place. It's not safe. And I won't hear of you camping out on my deck again. That puts you in my bed—” his gaze ranged over her “—right where I want you.”

* * *

Mack felt his muscles tense under his blankets. He could hear Natasha moving around the TV room and was afraid she might knock. She did that occasionally. Sometimes she'd even come in and sit on his bed. That wouldn't be good, considering how hard he'd struggled to ignore her while they were watching a movie earlier. The older she got, the more difficult it became for him... She was what he pictured whenever he closed his eyes. How many times had he dreamed that he finally had her naked beneath him?

Too many. There had to be something wrong with him to want her like he did.

He was a twisted, sick son of a bitch, he decided. He was also ashamed. He could guess what his brothers would think. Rod had already brought the subject up to him, so obviously there were signs.

Maybe he should've admitted how he felt and asked for help. Except he didn't see what anyone else would be able to do. He'd done everything he could to kill the attraction—had been trying to control his thoughts and feelings from the start. Nothing seemed to work. He'd wanted her in his bed from practically the first day he'd met her.

He'd never forget how she'd walked into that restaurant with her flake of a mother, so embarrassed and angry by Anya's behavior that she couldn't look at anyone without glaring. He'd felt sorry for her. He'd also felt protective. But, God help him, he'd never felt brotherly. He'd been fighting to keep their relationship within the proper boundaries ever since.

Even if his father hadn't married her mother, she was too young for him, he told himself. Nine years was a lot. She was only nineteen!

But nothing he did seemed to change what he felt. He ignored her. He avoided her. He tried to distract himself with other interests. He'd gone out with—and slept with—just about every available woman in Whiskey Creek. He'd nearly turned himself into a man-whore trying to satisfy the craving Natasha inspired.

All to no avail.

And these days she was making it so much more difficult than it had to be! She spent every minute she could with him. Walked up to him in her bikini to see if he wanted to swim in the river. Sat next to him on the couch or at the kitchen table if he was ever stupid enough to take a seat where there was an open spot nearby. Cooked him food. Brought home whatever leftovers she thought he might like if she went out.

Once, when they'd been cooling off in the river, she'd tried to kiss him. He'd shoved her away and told her never to touch him like that again, but the hurt his rejection had caused almost made him feel worse than if he'd let her do it. She was already so defensive, so reluctant to trust. The way he was treating her couldn't be helping her feel loved or secure.

But what could he do?

“Shit,” he grumbled. He couldn't wait until she left for college. Surely then he'd be able to forget her—at least in
that
way—since she wouldn't be living and working with him anymore.

Rolling over, he grabbed his phone to check the date. She'd be gone in two months. That wasn't long. But every day seemed more difficult than the one before...

Briefly, he considered getting up and going over to Sexy Sadie's. He needed to lose himself in a woman or he'd continue to lie there indefinitely, hard as a rock and thinking about Natasha.

He was just getting out of bed when his door opened. “Mack?”

Oh, God. There she was. He'd been able to tell she was restless all evening, that she had something on her mind. She'd kept sidling closer to him as they watched that action flick he'd chosen—until he'd gotten up under the pretense that he needed a beer and then sat clear across the room when he got back.

“Mack?” she said again, since he hadn't answered.

He almost growled at her to get the hell out. Didn't she know what she was doing to him? That he was tied up in knots all the damn time? She was making it impossible for him to live with himself!

“What is it?” he said, struggling to modulate his voice so that she wouldn't assume there was anything wrong.

“Can we talk?”

He hesitated. The smart answer would be no. But now she'd gotten his curiosity up, in addition to...other things. “Sure,” he said and climbed back into bed so he could cover up. He was wearing boxer briefs. She'd seen him going into or out of the bathroom in his underwear before. But lately that felt different.