Looking for Trouble (8 page)

Alex ran a hand over his head, scrubbing at the rough stubble until he could think. “Fine. But what the hell do you want from me?”

Shane distractedly went through the same motion, rubbing both hands through his hair. “Her psychiatrist thought this would help. It’s obviously making it worse, but if we call the whole thing off, God only knows what will happen. She’ll go off. Concoct some giant conspiracy theory. Raise hell.”

Alex grimaced. Yeah. She’d definitely do that. And considering her feral reaction to Sophie, that poor woman was likely to bear the brunt of it.

“Just help, all right?” Shane asked. “You left. I get why. You needed to. But you left me here to deal with her, and I’ve done it. I’ve dealt with her for sixteen years alone, and I’d like a little damn help now, Alex. She’s sick.”

The old resentments were back in full force at that. His brother pretending things weren’t as bad as they were, trying to explain away their mom’s behavior. As a kid, it had made Alex feel like the crazy one. “Is that why you got me back here? To take over carrying her shit?”

“No,” Shane snapped. “This isn’t a fucking trick. I’m asking you for help. You can run away and live your life like you’ve never had a family, but we still exist. You still have a brother. I’m right here and I’m asking you to help me, even if you think I don’t deserve it. Even if you hate my guts.”

They glared at each other for a long time. Both of them through their father’s eyes. Pale blue and distant and hard to read. Alex finally felt some of his anger leave. “I don’t hate you.”

Shane shrugged, but Alex could see the relief on his face. “Maybe you should. But I’m glad if you don’t.”

Alex rolled his own shoulders and tried to let go of the tension bunching his muscles into knots.

“It’s only a few more days. Just put in a little time. Ignore Mom if you can. And that’ll be the end of it.”

He nodded and paced back to the far corner of the deck. It was what he’d told himself he’d do. He could handle it. He wasn’t a kid anymore, even if being around her filled him with those same old emotions.

“Okay.” He nudged a pot full of dirt and one dead plant with his boot. A gray kitten darted out. Alex blinked in shock, but the cat disappeared beneath the deck. “Is Mom working or anything?”

“No. She started on disability this year.”

“Maybe that’s bad for her.”

“Maybe. She’s certainly gone downhill in the past few weeks.”

Alex nodded. “What was she doing before that?”

“Cashier, clerk, bowling alley attendant, cleaning crew. Same things she always did. Her bosses always liked her fine until she’d skip town to chase after Dad’s ghost. That died down a few years ago when she couldn’t afford a car anymore.”

“How’d she get this place?”

“It’s one of Jackson’s affordable housing rentals.”

Alex stared at the trees and let out a deep breath. Shane had been dealing with the reality of this for a long time, and Alex had never let it worry him for a second. “All right,” he finally said, “I’ll try to help.”

“Great. Can we sit down for a little while? Figure out the logistics?”

The trees were too thick to see any farther than the house next door. Even if they weren’t there, he probably wouldn’t be able to see Sophie’s place. Considering his mom’s vitriol, that was a good thing.

“Sure. Let’s get this over with.” He shrugged off his jacket and followed Shane inside. He could check on Sophie later. Or maybe he should just stay away. That’s what she’d been trying to tell him, after all. That’s why it was bad for both of them. But somehow he wanted to make her say it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

S
HE’D WAITED AN
hour, pacing and sweating and berating herself for what she’d done. She’d jumped at every small sound, expecting that it was Alex’s boot on her front step or his hand opening the storm door so he could knock.

Eventually she’d worn herself down into exhaustion and given up the vigil to make herself a cup of tea. He wasn’t coming back. He’d learned the truth and he’d decided Sophie wasn’t worth speaking to again.

Because she wasn’t.

With the history between their two families, he’d never have gone out with her if he’d known whose daughter she was. But Sophie had taken that choice from him. She was awful, and she hadn’t even been able to hide it this time. His mother had gotten it right for once.

“First time for everything,” Sophie murmured into her tea.

God. At first Rose Bishop hadn’t been part of the story for Sophie. The only story had been that Sophie’s mother was gone. Missing. Kidnapped. An accident victim. Nobody knew. She was just gone. The biggest void in the longest night that Sophie could ever have imagined.

That night had gone on endlessly. It had stretched out over weeks. Her mother had disappeared in the summertime. No school. No friends nearby. Just her father, wandering the house like a ghost when he wasn’t working himself to the bone. And her brother, too young to know anything except that he needed taking care of. And the neighbors, eventually.

If her mom had died, they would’ve been there in droves with warm arms open for a scared little girl. But instead, they’d come awkwardly, in whispering pairs, not sure if they should help or disapprove.

Was it a tragedy or just something someone had done wrong? Eventually, they’d settled on the latter. Everyone had.

Especially Rose Bishop.

Not at first, though. At first she hadn’t been involved. The story of Sophie’s mother had sustained itself. Long through those first months back at school. Long past the point when Sophie had finally figured out the threads of the story. It had taken a full year for interest to die down, and that was when Rose had risen to the challenge. No one was allowed to forget her husband. And no one was allowed to forget that Dorothy Heyer had been the cause of the trouble. Whatever Wyatt Bishop had done—run off, disappeared, been injured, been killed—it had been at Dorothy’s instigation. Her jezebel temptations. Her lies and whoring ways.

It had never been Wyatt’s fault. Always Dorothy’s. Dorothy was a devil in female form. And Sophie had looked just like her.

Not that the good folks of Jackson were that gullible. They understood that it took two to tango. But really...men ran off. It happened. But what kind of woman walked away from her little babies?

So they tutted. And whispered. Their eyes had gleamed with excitement over the tragedy that had infiltrated every single second of her childhood. And they all watched Sophie like she might show signs of becoming her mother any day. Rose had made sure they did.

Sophie pressed a hand to her turning stomach. The tea wasn’t helping.

It was only 2:00 p.m., yet she couldn’t imagine doing anything productive for the rest of the day. But if she gave in to her desire to crawl into bed and comfort herself with a terrible movie, that would hardly be penance for what she’d done to Alex, would it?

Then again, she hadn’t really harmed him. Nobody knew about it, and he’d had a good time.

“Well,” she muttered into her tea, “
I
had a good time.” He hadn’t even gotten off. God, she was the worst kind of lying slut there was. No movie and cozy bed for her. Maybe she should drive out to her dad’s house and wash her brother’s laundry.
That
would be punishment.

She was still staring into her teacup when the doorbell rang. The sound startled her so much it took her a moment to realize who it probably was.

“Oh, God,” she groaned. Despite that she’d been waiting for him, she’d decided he wasn’t coming and now the idea of talking to him terrified her. But maybe if she got up and answered the door and faced his justified anger, she could call that punishment enough. The thought of hiding in bed for the rest of the day was exactly the incentive she needed to push to her feet. But she still jumped like a little chicken when his fist hit her door in a booming knock.

She tiptoed over, but then made herself take a deep breath and stand tall before she answered. She hoped he didn’t notice the way she stepped back when she caught sight of his angry face.

She’d meant what she’d said earlier. That he wasn’t handsome until he smiled. He wasn’t. He was stark and masculine and intimidating. And right now? With his jaw tight and his brow low and that almost-sneer on his mouth? He was gorgeous.

“Damn it, Sophie,” he snarled.

“I’m sorry.”

He did notice when she stepped back that time, and he apparently took it as an invitation to come in, because he slipped past her arm and closed the door behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

God, his voice was a rumbling menace. Her skin prickled with nervousness, but despite her alarm—or maybe because of it—her nipples went tight, too.

“I meant to,” she said. “Last night.”

“Jesus.” He scrubbed both hands over his head, his bare arms flexing with the movement. He looked dangerous inside her small living room. Dangerous and strong, the deep colors of the tattoos rippling as he moved. And those big hands.

Sophie could no longer separate fear from arousal. She swallowed hard and tried not to think of those blunt fingers shoving into her.

“Sophie,” he finally sighed. “You should have told me.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know how to say it. And then I’d waited too long. You must be so angry—”

“You’re damn right I am. That’s why you didn’t want to be seen with me, right?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “People would talk. It’s all bad enough right now with the memorial and your mom and...”

“If you’d told me, I never would’ve exposed you to that.”

“You...” Sophie paused and blinked several times to try to clear her thoughts. “What?”

“I’m sorry. She’s obviously made your life difficult. I wouldn’t have pursued you that way if I’d known. I wouldn’t have teased you.”

Sophie pressed a hand to her thundering heart and tried to think past her shock. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who let you take that risk. Of people talking. Of dredging everything up.”

He flashed the briefest of smiles. “Sophie, do I look like the kind of guy who cares what people say? You’re the one who has to live here. And my mom never wants anyone to forget.”

“Yeah. She’s a real sucker for nostalgia.”

“Ha.” His bark of laughter startled her. “Christ, Sophie. I’ll try to talk some sense into her while I’m here. But...”

“I know. She honestly hasn’t been that bad until recently. But if I’d known she lived here...”

“You wouldn’t have bought the place?”

She shrugged. “It’s my great-uncle’s. I’m taking care of it for him while he’s in the nursing home. It won’t be forever. It’s just been tough lately with everything being back in the spotlight.”

He ducked his head for a moment, then his eyes rose to meet her. “So why’d you meet me at that bar? Seems a little risky.”

His voice had dropped. Sophie’s heart skipped. “It was risky,” she whispered.

He nodded. “Almost as risky as accepting a ride with a stranger.”

“Yes.” Her voice cracked a little.

His gaze went hot, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on her. Fuck, he looked eight feet tall inside her house. She was barefoot and out of sorts and he was so
big
.

“I won’t take you out again,” he said.

Her fantasy froze to ice. “Oh. Right. Of course not.”

“It’s not fair. I’m leaving town. You’re staying here. You’re the one at risk.”

She nodded. She understood. Of course she did, but... “It’s not that big of a deal. Once this week is past, people will go back to not caring. Especially now that the mystery is dead.” As dead as her mom and his dad.

“Yeah.” He glanced around the room as if noticing it for the first time. The couch and television were new. Her uncle’s had been moved to his room so he could feel more at home. Still, very few of the things here were hers. It was a house, but not her home.

“But I still owe you,” Alex suddenly said.

She snapped her gaze back to him. “What?”

“I promised you more.”

“I’m not...” she stammered. “I mean, I thought you’d... Once you realized who I was.”

“It’s risky,” he said, using her own words to seduce her. “Probably a terrible idea.”

“Yes. It is.”

“And you fucking turn me on like crazy.”

Oh, God. Her heart twisted and then set off running, the pulse of it echoing to her throat, her stomach, her pussy.

That was what she wanted. To make a man like him crazy for her. Desperate to put those big strong hands on her and show her exactly what he wanted from her body.

She licked her lips, trying to wet her mouth enough to speak, but when Alex’s hooded gaze dropped to her parted lips, her throat went even drier.

“But you really shouldn’t have kept it from me, Sophie.”

“I know,” she rasped.

His gaze dropped to her throat when she swallowed, then his eyes fell lower. “Take off your shirt.”

She drew in a quick breath, as stunned by his words as she was by the lust that stabbed through her. She stared at him in shock, wondering if he was just teasing or if she’d misunderstood him, but he didn’t say it again. He just watched and waited.

Her hands trembled. She tried to quiet her breath.

“No one will know,” he murmured. “I promise.” And oh, God, that was all she wanted. For no one else to know anything about her. To be hidden. To disappear in darkness and animal lust and anonymity.

Sophie reached for the top button of her shirt. She fumbled with it. His eyes narrowed as she finally slipped the button free. “The next one,” he said. This time she didn’t hesitate. She unfastened the second button, and the third, then all the way down until she could shrug her blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

She felt more confident now. She was wearing one of her favorite bras. A simple little ivory number made of such delicate fabric that the pink of her nipples was clearly visible. And the matching panties were nearly sheer, too.

“Keep going,” he said.

Sophie unfastened her pants and slipped them down, too. She stepped out of them and raised her head to watch him. He looked even more dangerous now, fierce and aroused, but somehow she only felt calmer. She lifted her chin and set her shoulders and let him look at her until she could hear that his breathing came almost as fast as hers.

His gaze fell to her panties, and she shifted. Cool air touched between her legs, and she knew she was wet already. So wet that she’d soaked through the thin material. She wondered if he could see that, and the idea embarrassed and thrilled her. She squeezed her thighs together. Alex seemed done with ordering her around. Instead of speaking, he stepped closer, moving slowly as if wanting to give her a chance to say no.

But she wasn’t even close to objecting. She watched his big hand reach toward her, and when it slipped over her hip, pleasure flashed through her and then settled deep in her belly.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his hand sliding up her ribs and then back down to her hip again.

Yes,
she wanted to say,
look at me.
She kept this side of herself so hidden, but not with him. With him she wanted to stretch her body out and demand every ounce of his attention.

But she didn’t need to. He watched his own hand as his fingers spread over her curves. She looked down, too, and God, it was beautiful. Her pale, smooth skin under his tanned and tattooed flesh. She could feel the slight rasp of his fingertips and see the long stretch of muscles flexing beneath his inked skin.

Jesus, she wanted to lick every inch of him. Bite his most sensitive spots. Make him suck in his breath and tighten his hold and get too rough.

His big hand slid beneath her panties to grasp her ass and pull her to him. He ducked his head and kissed her.

He wasn’t so careful this time. If there’d been any question about her willingness, she’d already answered it, so his mouth slanted over hers and took her hard. He reached behind her and then her bra was sliding down.

Thank God. She was ready. She needed this. She moved both hands up to his head to clutch his skull and pull him tighter, and now his hands were gripping her ass, pulling her tight to him, kneading her flesh.

There’d be no more waiting. He meant to fuck her today, and she meant to take him.

His hand slid farther down and stroked between her legs. Sophie tore her mouth free to gulp enough air to feed her racing heart.

“Damn,” he cursed, apparently shocked at how wet she was, but she wasn’t shocked. She felt so tight and swollen that she could come within seconds if she wanted to.

Alex backed her up a few feet, and she went blindly with him until her back touched the wall. Then he went to his knees. His mouth was on her before she could brace herself, the heat of him startling through the fabric of her panties.

“Oh, God,” she gasped as his tongue pressed against her, then his teeth scraped against her flesh and she cried out. If he’d meant to tease her, he quickly lost patience and tugged her panties down until they fell to her ankles. If she’d thought his mouth was hot before, she’d been wrong. Now it was liquid fire against her pussy, and his tongue a firm, stroking touch as he tasted her.

He grunted against her, his tongue pushing deeper before it settled against her clit.

Sophie moaned, sliding her feet farther apart to make it easier for him to please her. And God, he did. His tongue flicked her clit, almost too lightly until he grunted again and sucked at it, the scruff of his face scraping her sensitive flesh. His fingers dug into her ass. He sucked and she groaned, then felt him chuckle against her, the vibration of it singing over her taut nerves. She thought she’d come right then, but his tongue was light against her again, teasing, nearly breaking her with the nearness of her orgasm.