Erin's Way (3 page)

“Think she needs to go to the hospital?” Sam asked.

Stoner shot him a meaningful look. “Your house is closer. Can we take her there for now? I still have to tell Catherine. It will be enough of a shock for her that Erin’s here, but I hate to show up with her in this shape.” Stoner’s expression pleaded, and that made Sam very uncomfortable. Stoner Richardson didn’t beg for anything.

Sam frowned as he looked at Erin. No hospital—because she didn’t need it or because Stoner didn’t want the embarrassment? Sam clenched his jaw, trying to leave his personal feelings out of it.

The cut wasn’t bad. It looked more like a friction burn, probably from the airbag, so chances were she didn’t have a concussion.

“She’s your daughter, Stoner.”

“You think I don’t know that? You think this is something new? It’s happened so often before, Sam, all through high school. We tried rehab…shit!” Stoner’s jaw worked as he stared out the window, his fist clenching and unclenching.

Sam sighed. Stoner’s struggle to handle Erin’s abrupt and unexpected appearance was obvious, and it made Sam’s heart ache. As much as he knew having anything to do with Erin would be like volunteering to step into a snake pit, he couldn’t stop himself. He’d never been able to when it came to anything having to do with her.

“Yeah. Stay here,” he finally told Stoner. “I’ll see if she has a suitcase.”

Sprinting back to the car, he found a small purse and a duffel bag in the trunk. Not many clothes if she planned to stay any length of time, but from what he understood, Erin rarely stayed anywhere long. From sporadic e-mails to her parents, they knew she’d bounced from job to job in the islands…even working as a hostess at a topless club for a while. Sam slammed the trunk with unnecessary force.

Better not to go there. Thinking about her without clothes would only lead to more trouble than he wanted.

When they reached the farmhouse, Sam carried her in and laid her on the couch in his den. The wood stove still sent out waves of heat. Stoner was right behind him with her purse and her bag. Seeing Erin in his house brought back memories Sam didn’t want to think about…erotic memories he’d worked hard to put behind him with an astounding lack of success and a barn-full of guilt. She could stay for one night. That was it. Then she had to go. Erin in his house was more temptation than Sam could handle.

Stoner looked at him with steady, gray eyes. “I owe you, Sam. Catherine was so distraught over what happened last fall. I don’t want to see her hurt again.” His gaze slid to Erin, and Sam saw the shadows there, but whatever Stoner’s true feelings were, he kept locked inside. Maybe that was part of the problem. Erin and Stoner had a lot in common. Everything that mattered, everything important, they locked deep inside, unable or unwilling to allow themselves to appear vulnerable.

Stoner looked at Erin’s pale face. “You want me to stay? Help get her cleaned up?”

Sam shook his head wearily. “I’ll do it. Take my truck and go back to Catherine. Call me in the morning.”

Stoner put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I owe you.”

“Yeah. So you’ve said.”

After the door shut behind Erin’s father, Sam looked at his uninvited guest and sighed. He felt like he’d been picking up after this particular Richardson for years. He left her sprawled on the couch while he stalked off in search of his first aid kit. She was awake when he returned but, for once, not ready to start a fight. She leaned against him limply while he cleaned the scrape on her head. It wasn’t big, but she did have a bump to go with it. She watched him from somber, blue-gray eyes. After a couple of minutes of her almost unblinking stare, he arched one brow at her.

“If you have a question, Erin, I wish you’d just ask it.”

“Where am I?” she asked.

“My house. It was closer. Your dad thought it would be better for you to spend the night here.”

A flush of anger quickly replaced the flash of hurt he’d seen in her face, but then she blinked, masking her expression. Long lashes dropped as she shifted her gaze away. Her eyes had always been the chink in her protective armor because they mirrored what she truly felt. Sam wanted to grab her, make her look at him, and for once tell him what she really felt.

“I see.” Her mouth twisted with a cynicism he hated to witness. “Am I supposed to pay you for the fence while I spend the night? Is that the deal?”

Anger burned like acid inside him, but he wasn’t sure exactly who he was angry with—her, himself, or her father. What he did know was he hated the hurt that lingered in those big eyes of hers, and he knew one surefire way of getting rid of it.

“I don’t work that way. You might end up paying me for my fence, but it won’t be on your back. The fence cost a lot more money than one night between your thighs is worth, baby.”

The haunted look disappeared and fury replaced it. She twisted away from him. “You prick! You over-sized gorilla. Take your freaking hands off me.”

He’d take her anger over her hurt. He was big enough to handle the fury, but he had no idea what to do with the wounded woman lurking behind it. Sam stood, set the first aid kit aside, and stared her down. “Let me have your purse.”

She clutched it to her. “Why?”

“Unless you plan to spend the next little while in jail, hand me your purse, Erin. And tell me what you’re on.”

She tossed the purse at him. “Just a little weed.”

“If it were anyone else, I’d say you need to be at the hospital, but you’re a Richardson. Y’all have hard heads.”

“I might have a concussion.”

Sam arched a brow as he dumped the contents of her purse on the table and began going through them. He found the pot, the papers, her lighter, her stash of ecstasy, and the Quaaludes. How the devil had she gotten through customs with this stuff? It was a freaking pharmacy in here. Finally he held up an oblong package with pills. “What are these?”

“Birth control pills,” Erin snapped defiantly.

Sam’s hand tightened. What was he getting uptight about? She was nothing to him. He was nothing to her. She wasn’t a kid. She was almost twenty-seven. Had he expected she would continue to hero worship him?
Save herself for him?
She’d had a teenage crush on him, but she’d obviously moved on. Maybe it was time for him to do the same. How much of a fool was he? “I don’t see a prescription.”

“It was on the box, not the compact.”

He put the birth control pills in a different pile. When he was through, he picked up all the drugs, opened the door on the woodstove, and tossed them in.

Erin leaped off the couch. “What the hell are you doing? Do you have any idea how much all that shit cost?”

Sam glared at her over his shoulder. “I don’t give a flying feline, and what I’m doing is saving your cute little butt from jail time, idiot. Darn it! I’m the County Sheriff. You can’t have this stuff, especially not in my home.”

She lurched toward the woodstove, staggered, and started to slip sideways. He caught her as she fell.

“Sammy?” her voice was thready and frightened. Big, blue-gray eyes stared at him, and again her defenses went down for an instant. That was all it took to turn him into a marshmallow.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” His throat tightened. Maybe he did need to keep an eye out for a concussion. She was always so fiercely self-sufficient, wanting no one, needing no one, that it hurt his heart to see her weakened. He knew the lessons she’d learned years ago. He’d been an unfortunate part of more than one of them. He knew deep down she wouldn’t want to lean on anyone. She would see it as a mistake because her experience had shown her that, in the end, everyone else would let her down—even family. Especially family.

“Lie down, Erin.” Sam looked at her paper white face with real concern. Then he began to notice other things. The five earrings in her left ear and—
Jesus H. Christ—
was that an eyebrow piercing? “For heaven’s sake,” he ground out roughly. “Why the devil have you stuck all those holes in yourself?”

“It’s a personal statement,” she flashed, color starting to return to her fair skin.

“Of what?” he asked. “That you’d prefer life as Swiss cheese?”

“No… That uptight parents and nosy neighbors need to back the hell off. It’s my life, my body.” Her eyes narrowed spitefully. “I’ve got one in my navel too. Wanna see?”

Sam frowned with the memory, one that still aroused him. “I saw that one last fall.” He saw the look on her face. She wanted to shock him, make him squirm, make him lose his temper. It had always been like this.

“Then how about my tattoos?”

He quirked a brow. He didn’t remember seeing any tattoos when she’d shown up unexpectedly at Tabby’s art showing, and she’d only had the barest essentials covered. Even though he knew better, he still baited her. “What would you do if I said yes?”

Erin smiled wickedly and teased the snap on her jeans. “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”

“For heaven’s sake!” Sam spun away from her. He had to. The sight of her finger sliding along the waistband of jeans was making him hard, making him want things he shouldn’t.

“Have some respect for yourself,” he said.

Silence reigned behind him. Suddenly, Sam knew he’d gone too far, hit her where she was the most vulnerable. That had always been her problem. As tough as she might seem, Erin had no self-esteem, and he had never understood why. He turned to apologize. She had her back to him and had gone still and silent, but he could see from her stiff posture that he’d managed to hurt her.

“Erin…”

“Go to hell.” It was barely an audible whisper, not her usual high volume bluster.

Sam raked his hand across his short hair in frustrated patience as he tried to explain. “The only room with a bed that’s made is mine….”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Sheriff. As you’ve already made clear again and again, you don’t want me there.”

But he did want to be fairly certain she would still be in his house come morning. “You can have my room, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Afraid I’ll take off?” she asked, some of her bluster returning, but only for an instant. “No, I’ll sleep on the couch. You’re too big to be comfortable here,” she mumbled. “I’m used to sleeping on a berth on board ship. This is fine for me. Leave me alone. I’ll be all right, and I will be here in the morning. Like I said earlier. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

It was the most she had said since he’d found her in the pasture, and it was without an attitude. She still had her back to him, still refused to look at him.

“Do you need anything?” he finally asked quietly.

“No.”

“Well, good night then. I’m down the hall if you need me.”

She snorted. “I won’t.”

* * * *

Stoner parked Sam’s truck behind the house and stepped into the kitchen. Catherine had already gone upstairs. She sat propped in their king-size bed. Seeing her made him smile. That was something else that had changed in the last six months. She had moved back into his bed. It had been a long time, not since they’d taken Erin and gone to Washington. Dear God, that was more than a third of their married life. Their daughter’s teenage years had been rocky not only for her, but for them too. In fact, their marriage hadn’t been on a solid footing since Erin’s birth.

When Catherine glanced up from what she was reading, he smiled, praying like hell Erin’s sudden reappearance wouldn’t erode what they had rebuilt. Guilt stabbed him for feeling that way. He wanted what was best for Erin, but in the past that had always translated into sacrificing the rest of the family.

“Did you find the problem?” His wife’s gaze held only mild curiosity. Most of the time loose cattle were the result of a gate left open or a broken wire, common enough occurrences in a rural area.

“Yes.” Stoner kept his tone casual. “There was an accident. A driver ran off the road and took out part of Sam’s fence. It was his cattle that were loose.”

“I hope no one was hurt.”

He smiled. “Just a minor injury. She’s okay. Carter and I helped Sam get the cattle back in and put a temporary fix on the fence.”

“Well, that’s good.” She was too intent on what she was reading to pay much attention, and he was relieved. After stripping, Stoner showered, wrapped himself in a thick robe, and returned to the bedroom.

As casually as he could he asked, “Did you ever hear anything back from Erin after you e-mailed her with the pictures of Tabby’s wedding?”

“No…not a word.”

“Was she still in the—where was it? The Virgin Islands?”

“Yes. That job as a cook on the sailing ship must agree with her. She’s been there longer than anyplace so far. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Just curious.” As soon as it came out of his mouth, he knew he’d said the wrong thing. Even his casual tone wouldn’t fool her.

He had her attention now. Catherine was anything but stupid. “Stoner, you said ‘she’ when you mentioned someone taking out Sam’s fence. Would that ‘she’ be Erin?”

He sighed as he sat next to her on the edge of the bed. They’d promised each other honesty when they’d healed their rift. “Yes.”

“Where is she, Stoner? Is she hurt?” There was a pause. Disillusionment colored her voice when she spoke again. “Was she drunk…or stoned?”

“She’s at Sam’s sleeping it off. She was stoned, Catherine. She hit her head, but nothing serious.”

There was a long silence before Catherine touched his arm. “Stoner… Something’s wrong. She only came back last fall because of Tabby, then immediately took off again. Now she turns up out of the blue?” She shook her head. “Honey, do you think she’s in some kind of trouble? It’s not like her to come back home willingly.”

The truth of that statement cut him to the core. Stoner knew how much it pained Catherine to acknowledge the depth of the rift between them and their daughter, but it was true. There had always been something about Erin that Catherine had never been able to touch, even when she was a little girl. Stoner might have been able to once, when Erin was small, but as the years passed his relationship with his daughter had gotten even worse than the one between mother and daughter.

Stoner laughed, but it wasn’t with any true amusement. “When has Erin ever not been in trouble, Katie?” He raked a big hand through his gray hair. “God! She makes it so hard to love her. It’s like from the moment she was born, she took one look at me, and thought ‘what can I do to piss him off?’ I don’t want to feel that way about her, damn it. She’s my daughter.”