Discovering You (27 page)

* * *

Mack knew almost immediately that he shouldn't have come. He'd known Natasha would be here—it was eighteen and up on Fridays, this was her last weekend in town, and if there was any fun to be had, it was usually at Sexy Sadie's.

He sat with Grady at a small table in the corner and tried to focus on what his brother was saying, but he couldn't resist tracking her movements throughout the bar. She'd come with someone named Meredith, who was at least twenty-five. Natasha didn't know her all that well because the woman was from Jackson and they'd just met a couple of weeks ago at the shop. Why they'd decided to hang out together he couldn't say, but it meant that Natasha hadn't come with him. She wouldn't be leaving with him, either. That was what had him worried. Although Sexy Sadie's didn't serve alcohol to those with an X on the back of the hand, like the one on Natasha's, she'd gotten alcohol somewhere. More than a little. He was fairly certain she was drunk, and he blamed Meredith, who must've bought it for her. When he'd approached Natasha to say hello, she'd introduced him to Meredith, whom he'd already met briefly at the shop. But then she'd moved away as if he didn't figure into her plans for the evening at all. He hadn't figured into her plans since that night in her bedroom.

He'd thought that was what he wanted—for her to back off. But this was almost worse. The desire he felt hadn't gone anywhere. And now he'd been robbed of spending any time with her. Once she left for college, things would never be the same. He already lamented the changes.

Why'd they have to meet the way they did? Why was his father with Anya?

If J.T. divorced her, maybe then, in time...

Mack didn't dare to even hope. Thinking that Natasha might not be taboo someday only weakened his resolve.

“Do you think you'll ever leave Whiskey Creek?” Grady asked.

Mack was watching Natasha dance. Usually, he liked the way she moved to the music, but tonight he could see that she'd hooked up with a male partner who was slipping his hands down over her butt.

“Mack?”

He returned his attention to his brother. “What?”

“You're quiet tonight. You okay?”

“Fine, why?”

“Because I have to repeat everything I say to you.”

“Sorry. What was that? Something about Whiskey Creek?”

“Do you think you'll ever leave this town?”

He had to fight the urge to look back at Natasha. “No. Why would I?”

“Don't you ever wonder if there's something else out there for you?”

“Can't say I do. This is where Dylan's at, where you and Aaron and Rod are. Where my work is. Whiskey Creek is where I belong. Why? Do
you
plan to move?”

“Not necessarily. Sometimes I wonder what we might be missing, that's all. If Mom and Dad sort of...locked us into a life we might not have chosen. Maybe we would've gone to college, become something, moved to a big city, maybe the east coast. Who knows?”

“Natasha has a shot at all that.” Which was part of the reason Mack was leaving her alone. He wouldn't steal those possibilities from her before she even had the chance to choose.

“So you're satisfied.”

“Yeah. Our lives could be a lot worse.” These days their lives were pretty darn
good
, but Mack wasn't in the mood to discuss it. He could hardly stay in his chair. The guy who'd been dancing with Natasha had her pressed up against the wall and was kissing her...

Curling his hands into fists, Mack willed himself to stay put. “You okay with driving home tonight?” he asked Grady.

Grady looked a little startled. “You said
you'd
drive.”

He felt his heart sink. “You're counting on that?”

“Hell, yeah. It's your turn,” he replied and grinned as Sally Abernathy, who'd been flirting with him for the past few weeks, came over to ask him to dance.

“Okay, got it,” Mack said so Grady could feel free to have a good time, but as his brother and Sally walked onto the dance floor, all he could think was
God, I can't even dull the pain
.

Once again forcing his gaze away from Natasha, who was now making out with that bozo—someone with a receding hairline and a paunch for a belly—Mack clenched his jaw and began to peel the label from his beer bottle, anything to keep his hands busy so he wouldn't go over there, yank that guy off her and smash him in the face. So what if the dude looked thirty-five or older? That was her choice. She was nineteen, he told himself. But he was counting the minutes, hoping Grady would come back and keep him from losing his cool.

Grady didn't get the chance. Before the song could end, the woman he'd brought home from the bar last time—Bella—cut through the crowd with a gaggle of her girlfriends in tow.

“And the night gets worse,” he said under his breath. He would've been happy to leave, except he couldn't. Not only had he agreed to be Grady's designated driver, he was worried about Natasha. He was afraid this reckless abandon she'd adopted would get her involved with someone she didn't really want. Who knew what this guy might do to take advantage of her condition and her determination to show one Mack Amos that she was now old enough to act as she pleased?

“Well, look who it is.”

When Bella spoke to him, Mack managed a polite smile and tipped his beer toward her. “Evening.”

Nose in the air, she said, “I didn't expect to see
you
here.”

He found that comment rather strange.
He
was the one who lived in Whiskey Creek, not her. And she'd seen him here last time. This was where they'd met. But he let it go so he wouldn't seem rude by pointing out that she was the one out of place.

“Nothing better to do, huh?” she said when that didn't get a response.

“Not tonight,” he replied, but he was beginning to think
anything
would be better than enduring this kind of torture. Natasha had her hands in the man's hair as if she was enjoying herself.

He longed to be that man, to feel her against him, to taste her lips...

“Mind if we sit down?” Bella asked.

She'd been so angry when she left his house this past week. Why would she want to hang out with him now?

He had no clue. Neither did he care to find out. “Not at all,” he said as he gave his seat to one of her friends.

He noted the surprise on her face. She hadn't expected him to leave, but he couldn't sit there any longer. For one thing, he had to move around, work off some of the excess energy that was pouring through him. For another, Natasha and her partner had disappeared. He worried that the jackass who'd been making out with her had dragged her into the hallway that led to the bathrooms or outside, where he could get serious.

24

N
atasha couldn't feel anything. She hated being so fuzzy and disoriented. It reminded her of her mother, which disgusted her. She'd sworn she'd never be like Anya.

But at least her heart was no longer aching. She'd seen Mack and been able to walk away from him without feeling as though it was tearing her guts out. And if she kept her eyes closed, she could almost pretend he was the man who was kissing and touching her so hungrily.

“God, you're beautiful,” the guy said. “I feel like the luckiest man on earth.”

“Don't talk,” she told him. His voice ruined the illusion. His smell did, too. Blocking that out was hard enough. “And can you kiss me with a little more...force?” she asked.

“I'll show you force,” he muttered and kissed her so hard he almost bruised her mouth. Maybe she should've said with more “authority,” the way she imagined Mack would kiss. Mack did everything with confidence and precision, wasn't sloppy like this guy. Still, there was something exhilarating about no longer caring, about no longer waiting and hoping. Casting caution aside made her feel powerful. She wasn't going to let her desire for Mack ruin her life.
He
didn't want her, wouldn't touch her—but
this
guy seemed more than willing. Why not allow him to act as a stand-in? It wasn't as if she'd ever have to see him again. He'd told her he was from Angel's Camp.

“Let me take you home,” he whispered, “where I can treat you right.”

They were in an alcove where they couldn't easily be observed, but she knew why he was asking for more privacy. He hoped to have sex with her, and why should she refuse? Maybe it was time she lost her virginity, learned what all the hype was about. Most of the girls at school had been sleeping with guys for several years. Natasha was beginning to feel odd for saving herself, for wanting Mack to be her first. She was different enough already.

So maybe she'd dispense with all the waiting and wondering and quit hoping her first time would mean something. When she was younger, she'd been molested by some of her mother's boyfriends. Once, Anya had even offered her up for sex in exchange for money. Her mother refused to acknowledge that now, but Natasha would never forget it.

Thankfully, the guy had walked out instead of accepting Anya's offer. But that experience and others like it had given Natasha an education; she wasn't
totally
in the dark. She'd seen her mother having sex with any number of men, understood exactly how it worked. She just didn't know how it
felt
. Despite the fact that she hadn't enjoyed the groping she'd endured when she was young, she could tell sex
could
be good, with the right person.

That was the reason she'd decided to wait. Only now she felt foolish for hanging on to what seemed like a childish dream—the dream that she'd get the man she'd always wanted. Life never worked out that way. She, of all people, should know that.

“Come on. I'll make it good for you,” the guy promised, his mouth hot and wet on her neck. “Get you off as many times as you want—do whatever you ask.”

He had his hands on her breasts and was kissing the skin that showed above her glittery tank. She kept telling herself those were
Mack's
hands, that he was finally touching her like she'd imagined he would since the day she'd met him. But her ability to fantasize wasn't quite keen enough. Despite all the alcohol in her bloodstream, which had enabled her to take it
this
far, she felt a mild revulsion, didn't think she could go through with it.

“Ready to leave?” he asked when she didn't respond.

“No.” This wasn't working, wasn't remotely satisfying. He wasn't
anything
like Mack.

She tried to pull away, to head back toward the dancers and the acquaintance she'd come with, who was sitting with a group of cowboys along the opposite wall. But this guy—Benny he'd said his name was—wouldn't give up.

“Hey, wait.” He grabbed her wrist so she couldn't go. “We were just starting to have a good time, weren't we? Come on, you've got my heart pumping like a bass drum, and I've got a major woody.” He held her hand to his crotch to show her. “I have to have you.”

She squinted to bring him into clearer focus. “I don't even know you.”

He kept her hand in place. “So you weren't serious? You were just getting me worked up?
Teasing
me?”

The anger in his voice surprised her. “I
wanted
to feel something,” she explained. “But I...don't.”

What she'd said didn't seem to make any difference. He ducked his head to kiss her again, as if she hadn't told him no. “Look, see how good we are together? Let's make love, sweet baby—”

“Stop it!” She wasn't enjoying herself at all anymore. She tried to remove her hand from the bulge in his pants, but he wouldn't let her. “I don't want to do this,” she said. “It's only going to make me feel worse.”

“That's where you're wrong,” he whispered. “It'll make you feel better. It'll make you feel like a sex goddess.”

She almost gagged when he stuck his tongue down her throat. She would've called for help if she could, but he had her pinned up against the wall so tightly she could scarcely breathe. Then the room began to spin. Was she going to pass out? She could feel his hands slide up her shirt, his mouth move to cover her left breast...

At that point it occurred to her that she
could
breathe, could scream, but she felt so foolish for getting herself into this mess, she didn't feel she deserved any help. And she certainly didn't want to embarrass Mack or Grady—or get them into any more trouble, like what'd happened to Rod when he came to her rescue the last time.

She'd been hoping to hurt Mack, she realized. She was lashing out at him because he'd rejected her. Which just showed her immaturity. She was a stupid fool who'd fallen in love with the wrong man, and this was where it had led—to some stranger groping her in a bar.

Maybe she wasn't any better than her mother, after all. Maybe it was true what some people said, “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.” What did one fuck matter, anyway? As far as that went, what did
she
matter—to anyone?

She let her head fall back and gazed up at the ceiling. She didn't have the strength to fight. She felt sick, disgusted, broken. The list went on. She was ticking each nasty emotion off to herself. Doing that distracted her from what had turned into a nightmare. But the next thing she knew, Benny went flying against the opposite wall and Mack stood between them, looking angrier than she'd ever seen him.

“She's drunk. She can't give consent,” he growled.

“She wanted it,” Benny cried, covering his head as if he expected Mack to drag him to his feet and punch him out.

Mack looked as though he might do just that, but he turned to her instead. “Are you okay?”

She clutched at him, to make the room stop spinning. “No. Will you take me home?”

Instantly forgetting Benny, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out.

“I'm sorry,” she mumbled as he deposited her in his truck.

“Don't apologize.”

“Where's Grady?” she asked when he climbed into the driver's side. He and Mack had come together, but she couldn't remember seeing Grady as Mack carried her out.

“I'm texting him right now, telling him to call me if he can't catch a ride home.”

She didn't put on her seat belt. As soon as he dropped his phone in the empty ashtray where he kept it when he drove, she lay down with her head in his lap.

He paused before starting the truck to slowly run his fingers through her hair. “Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay.”

“I'm going to miss you,” she whispered.

“I'm going to miss you, too,” he said.

* * *

Rod was beginning to think their plan wasn't going to work. He went to the Siddells' every night, and he waited and watched, but Sebastian never went anywhere interesting, nowhere Rod felt he could approach him. Sebastian filled up with gas and bought a pack of cigarettes. He took Sheila and her kids out to some dive for pizza. And he went to the liquor store to grab a six-pack when he had a few friends over. That was about it.

Rod would've been frustrated, except that he liked the Siddells so much. He liked returning to the motel every morning to climb into bed with India even more. Generally, she was up waiting for him, as if keeping that vigil somehow meant he'd return safe. They slept late, lounged by the pool, went out to eat, showered together, watched movies and made love more often than he'd ever made love with anyone else. Being together in a motel for so long felt as if they were on a honeymoon, except for when he had to head over to the Siddells' at night.

There were moments Rod wished nothing would change. He cared about India that much. But there were also moments when he felt a great deal of pressure to fix the problem so he could go home. Guilt, for taking so many days off in a row and expecting his brothers to cover for him, bothered him, but he couldn't go back to Whiskey Creek until this situation was resolved. Sebastian kept calling her and leaving messages, pleading with her to put the past behind them—never mind that he was still with his wife. India couldn't even tell herself that he'd go on about his business and let her go on about hers.

“I have to see this through,” he told Dylan a week later, on Sunday afternoon, when he was sitting out by the pool. India wasn't with him. She'd gone to the room to plug in her phone, since her battery was dead, and to get them another cold drink from the vending machine.

“Of course. We wouldn't want you to do anything else,” his brother said.

Rod got up and moved his lawn chair so he wasn't directly in the sun anymore. “But it's been ten days, and I haven't gotten anywhere.”

“You have a plan. That's something. A lot hangs in the balance. You can't simply waltz into Sebastian's life and expect him to tell you where he put the gun.”

“No, it could take
years
to build up that much trust. That's why I'm hoping that boy I told you about, Van, will tell me instead.”

“I'm hoping the same thing. We're looking forward to getting you back. But we're willing to sacrifice. Who else is going to help India if we don't?”

Rod remembered a family meeting when he'd heard the same sentiment expressed about Natasha—and look at her now, getting good grades, graduating with honors, heading off to college. They'd made a difference in her life. If only they could help India, too. Supporting her in this way was definitely a joint effort, since his brothers were carrying his workload at home. “I'd like to see Natasha one last time before she goes.”

“She leaves tomorrow afternoon. You could come home and drive her to the airport, then return to the motel. She's flying out of Oakland, and you're free during the days, right?”

“I'll do that. How's Mack handling her leaving?”

“What do you mean?” Dylan asked. “He's handling it just like the rest of us.”

Rod realized that Dylan really
didn't
know what was going on with Mack and Natasha. “They're closer in age,” he said, to cover for the question.

“He had a woman over not too long ago,” Dylan said.

“How'd
you
find that out?” Rod asked.

“Dad said something when the same woman stopped by the shop yesterday to bring Mack lunch.”

Maybe Dylan
did
know about Mack and Natasha, but he didn't want to get into it any more than Rod did. In any case, Rod wasn't going to ask him directly. “There're plenty of women out there to keep him busy.”

“Exactly. Speaking of women, how are things between you and India?”

Rod wasn't sure how to answer that question. He was feeling all kinds of things he'd never felt before, but she was still wearing her wedding ring, still keeping him separate from her daughter. “I like her.”

“How much?” Dylan said.

“A lot.”

“You two getting serious?”

Rod couldn't tell how seriously
she
was taking the relationship—and he was hesitant to ask, in case she brought up Charlie or her daughter or her in-laws and ruined what they had right now. “She just lost her husband eleven months ago.”

There was a slight pause. “You're not getting in over your head, are you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I think I am.”

Silence.

“No advice?” Rod said with a laugh.

“I knew when it finally happened, you'd fall hard.”

Dylan had fallen hard, too—only, it had worked out for him. “Have you heard from Chief Bennett?”

“Yeah. Spoke to him on Friday.”

“And you didn't mention it?”

“Why ruin your vacation?”

“What's going on?”

“Liam's pressing charges. Claims you used a baseball bat.”

Rod rested his elbows on his knees as he stared at the concrete. “Shit.”

“Don't worry,” he said. “I've already hired an attorney.”

“
You
hired an attorney? This is on me, Dyl.”

“No, it's not. Who knows how much it'll cost? The expenses could wipe you out. And it started because you were protecting Natasha. Together, we'll have enough to fight him.”

“India said she heard Sharon tell him we have money. He's looking for us to pay his medical bills.”

“He can go to hell. He started the fight. He could've killed you when he ran you off the road. You're in a freakin' cast. Far as I'm concerned, he should pay
your
medical bills. And that's what the attorney thinks, too. So we're countersuing. Maybe when Liam realizes he could wind up paying a bunch of attorneys' fees as well as his medical expenses, and possibly even yours, he'll think twice about taking the gamble.”