Discovering You (15 page)

14

I
ndia felt anxious walking into her house; she knew Sebastian could be waiting for her during the day just as easily as at night. On the drive home from the auto body shop, she kept an eye out for any cars that looked as if they didn't belong and walked the entire perimeter of her house with a tire iron before venturing inside.

After being shut up, her place was a lot warmer than outside, especially this time of morning, but the heat wave seemed to be dissipating. Thank goodness. Maybe she wouldn't sweat so much when she worked today.

Setting down her keys, she leaned on the counter to stare out the window, toward Rod's house. But obsessing over him wasn't helping. She'd done the right thing a few minutes ago. She knew that, and yet...it wasn't what she really wanted.

She thought it might strengthen her resolve if she could speak to Cassia, but her in-laws always acted so odd when she asked either one of them to put her daughter on the line. They usually had an excuse—she was out with Papa in the garden, she was in the bath, she was doing the dishes with “Mimi,” which was what she called her grandmother. India suspected Cassia asked to talk to her, too, and was given similar excuses. Claudia was afraid Cassia would realize how much she missed her mother and ask to come home. Claudia liked to pretend that
she
was all Cassia needed and that Cassia never complained about being there or begged for Mommy, even though that would be perfectly normal behavior for a five-year-old child.

India considered calling and insisting, if necessary. But she decided that might only make the situation more difficult. She couldn't bring Cassia to Whiskey Creek if it would put her in danger, so there was no need to push. Not yet.

First she had to make sure her house was safe.

After putting on coffee, she ate some of the breakfast Theresa had prepared for Rod. Then she logged on to her computer and began searching for nearby alarm companies. She doubted she could get a security system installed today. Not where she lived. But, with any luck, she could arrange it for the next week or so.

Then she'd call and talk to Cassia.

* * *

When Dylan called for the third time, Mack finally used his Bluetooth to answer.

“Where the hell are you?” his brother demanded.

Slinging one hand over the steering wheel, Mack sank farther into his seat and looked around. “Jackson,” he said, paying attention to his surroundings for the first time since he'd peeled out of the Amos Auto Body lot.

“Why?”
Dylan asked. “You're supposed to be painting Sandra Morton's car. She's coming to pick it up tomorrow morning.”

Mack released a sigh. He was still wearing his paint suit and didn't have a good excuse for driving off—at least not one he intended to share with his brother. “There was...something I had to do.”

“Like...”

“None of your business,” he snapped.

Dylan went silent. He wasn't used to having Mack respond like that. Not these days. Not
any
days. Unlike Aaron, Mack had
always
worshipped his oldest brother—and always been favored by him.

“Are you okay?” Dylan asked at length.

Mack couldn't say he was. He seemed to be losing his mind. Natasha was all he could think about, and his thoughts were becoming ever more sexual. When she was younger, he could distract himself from the attraction he felt—by helping her do homework, seeing that she had someone to socialize with on the weekends so she wouldn't feel left out by the kids who weren't accepting her, teaching her how to throw a ball. Her mother had done nothing to provide her with any life skills. He was the one who'd tried to teach her how to cook. Although he could grill like there was no tomorrow, he wasn't particularly adept in the kitchen. But he'd bought several cookbooks and muddled his way through trying to impart the basics. She'd been more interested in cooking than some of the other stuff he'd attempted to introduce her to. Like when he convinced her to sign up for dance classes and drove her over to the studio a few times. She quit that almost right away. He suspected it was because he wasn't going with her. But she liked chess. They'd played a lot over the past year, and he'd taught her so well he could no longer be assured of winning. Occasionally, she kicked his ass and took great pleasure in doing so.

But those days of being easily satisfied were over. She didn't need him in that way anymore. She was an adult and could handle most tasks on her own; she'd even taught
him
a thing or two on the computer. Now all he could think about was how badly he wanted to touch her. And after what she'd done last night, tearing off that T-shirt and letting him see her bare breasts, all he had to do was remember and he'd grow hard.

“Are you and Natasha having some sort of fight?” Dylan asked. “If you are, maybe you should come back and talk to her about it. Did she say something nasty to you? Her tongue can get sharp. I won't argue with you there. But you know what her life's been like.”

Did Dylan know what
his
life was like right now—because of
her
?

“Natasha and I are getting along fine,” he said. The last thing he wanted was for Dylan to learn how he felt, what he was battling. His obsession was too embarrassing to admit, especially when he could have just about any other woman he wanted. With so many to choose from, why did he have to be fixated on Natasha?

Fortunately, since Natasha had come to live at the house, Dylan had been preoccupied with Cheyenne and Kellan, and the business. Aaron was totally immersed in his little family, too. Otherwise, one or both of them would probably have noticed, the way Rod had. Grady was oblivious to almost anything that didn't directly concern him, so Mack wasn't as worried about him. Sometimes he wondered if Anya knew, but if so, she would've told J.T, who'd never said anything. Mack figured he still had a chance to get clear of this thing with no one, other than Rod, being the wiser.

Except that Natasha wasn't giving up without a fight. She could tell he wasn't immune to her, could tell he felt more than he should, and she was pushing him, testing his limits. He wouldn't have left work this morning if she hadn't caught him in the back room while he was suiting up and put her hand around to grab his junk.

“You're going to let me ride this at least once before I go,” she'd murmured.

He wished he'd been appalled—or, better yet, repelled. Instead, her touch, her voice in his ear, brought him nothing but pleasure. That was why he'd set her to one side and stormed out. He'd
had
to. Otherwise, he would've dragged her into the bathroom and pulled up her skirt.

“You two are fine? Because she's not talking much, either,” Dylan said. “And what she
is
saying doesn't make a whole lot of sense.”

Shit, was she giving them away? Mack's heart jumped into his throat. “What do you mean?”

“She's planning to move to Utah next week, even though school doesn't start for a couple more months. Says she needs to get a job before everyone arrives for fall semester. But there's no guarantee it'll be any easier to find work in June than in August. And she's already working
here
. Doing a nice job, too. I'd rather not lose her before we have to.”

The prospect of her leaving town so soon filled Mack with relief. Whittling her two remaining months down to a few days or a week would help. But he also felt a measure of panic at the thought that she'd be out of reach...

He pulled over, didn't see any point in continuing to drive aimlessly. Not when he had to go back and get that car painted. “Why's she in such a hurry?” he asked, but only because it was expected. He knew the answer to that question. She was struggling with her wants and desires as much as he was. Living in the same house had become a problem for both of them, had gotten progressively harder as the months went by.

And now they were at the breaking point.

“She thinks it'll be easier to adjust or something like that. If you ask me, she can adjust once she gets there. What's the difference? Now or later?”

“If it makes the transition easier on her, we should support her decision,” Mack said, but he felt physically sick as he spoke. “She's an adult, trying to assert her will. We should allow that.”

“You
want
her to leave early?” Dylan asked.

Mack let his head drop against the back of the seat. “If that's what
she
wants.”

Dylan paused for a few seconds. Then he said, “Okay, I'll get on the internet over lunch today and see if her apartment complex has an opening so she won't have to move twice.”

“I bet she'll appreciate that.”

“She'll be pissed that I took over, like she was when I set up her housing to begin with. But it makes me feel better about letting her go. Maybe you can help arrange her airfare tonight. Aaron, Grady, Rod and I will pay for the first month, last month and security deposit on the apartment if you'll handle her flight.”

Mack tapped his fingers on the wheel. “Sure. No problem.”

“She claims she's going to pay for it all herself, that she's saved up. But she barely has enough to cover the hard costs, and that won't leave her with any money for food or laundry detergent or anything else. I don't want her up there broke. Who can say how long it'll be before she finds work? Even then it'll take weeks to get a paycheck.”

“Thanks,” Mack said. Then he realized appreciation was an odd response, since Dylan wasn't doing anything for
him
. “I mean, I'll feel better knowing she's taken care of, too.”

“She doesn't like accepting any help. She's so damn independent.”

Natasha
was
independent. But she also wanted Mack to see her as an equal. He understood that.

“She can pay us back when she becomes a rocket scientist or a doctor or a politician, what with all the schooling she's going to have, right?” Dylan joked.

Mack had never been prouder of anything than the report cards Natasha had brought home. Something about the fact that she was going to get out of Whiskey Creek and have so many opportunities, despite her past, made his throat tighten and his eyes burn. He needed to let her explore those possibilities, needed to let her go.

“Right. Sounds good to me,” he said. Then he turned his truck around.

One more week. He could keep up the fight for one more week, couldn't he?

* * *

Rod was glad he wasn't working in the shop today. He knew his brothers would give him hell about having their neighbor over without ever letting on. And he didn't want to hear it. Especially now that she'd put a stop to whatever had started between them. Rod told himself he didn't care. He had trouble falling
in
love, not out of it. And he'd known India for only a few days.

He'd spent the whole drive to Bakersfield trying to convince himself that she'd broken it off because she was looking for someone with deeper pockets, more promise or more respect. And yet he
still
wanted to see her. That told him he might be in deeper than he thought.

He couldn't be too mad at her, though. Not after what she'd been through. She'd had an ex-boyfriend come back and kill her husband, right in front of her, and it'd happened less than a year ago. Of course she'd have scars. He could understand why she might feel jittery about being with a man after something like that, but he couldn't allow her to face the coming days and weeks alone. If Sebastian was going to seek revenge, he'd probably do it soon, while he was still angry and before he settled into whatever kind of life he was going to live.

When Rod stopped to get a bite to eat, he quit arguing with himself and texted her.

Tell me you weren't serious this morning.

Don't make this any harder than it has to be
, came her response.

Stay over tonight, at least. I won't even be there until late. And when I get home, I'll sleep on the couch.

He'd tried to sleep on the couch last night; she was the one who'd stopped him. He would've pointed that out, except she hadn't had to do much to convince him. And he didn't want her to regret it any more than she already did.

He was filling up with gas by the time she wrote back.

I'll be fine.

He frowned at his phone. How could he persuade her?

Your safety has to come before any loyalty you feel to Charlie. Think about what he'd want.

We could be worried for nothing. Maybe the cops are watching Sebastian.

You don't know?

No. They won't tell me that. They can't. What if I'm the guilty one?

I'm guessing they're not watching him. Anyway, are you willing to stake your life on that?

I bought a security system today. That won't help if he follows me from the house, of course. But I might be able to sleep at night. That's worth something.

Unless Sebastian was a particularly sophisticated criminal, she'd know if someone was trying to break in before he was standing at the foot of her bed.

Good. When will it be installed?

They're coming on Saturday.

And until then?

I can get by.

Stay at my place, India.

If I don't put down my phone and finish shaping this bowl, it'll be ruined.

Does that mean you'll be in my bed tonight, where I know you'll be safe?

I'm thinking about it.

I'll stay at your place, if you prefer.

No! If it isn't safe for me, why would it be safe for you?

Then quit giving me so much trouble and be at my place, waiting for me.

He didn't think she was going to text back. He assumed she'd returned to her work. But when he stopped at the light before entering the freeway, he saw his phone screen light up in the seat beside him and pulled over.