Rough Ride (15 page)

“Home?” Lane shook his head. They hadn’t had a home in years. Home had been wherever they were together. There was the house they grew up in, but it was so small. Best mom could afford. “Are you staying in that town even if there’s no oil?”

Trent stood. “Probably. I want something more than man camps for months at a time and ball busting work under
sunny and 70s
conditions.”

Lane nodded.
Sunny and 70.
Didn’t matter what the weather was. When you were on a rig working through rain, sleet, hail—shit if it mattered—you said it was
sunny and 70
. As if saying that really made the weather any warmer or drier.

Trent put his hands in his pocket and shook change. “Working like that, shit gets old.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “It does.”

“And you have a chance for something else and you’re throwing it away.”

Was that what he was doing? Lane didn’t even know anymore. He wanted more, but wasn’t sure he’d get it. He was so used to not getting what he craved, merely scraping by, he wasn’t even sure what having something real was like.

Trent snorted. “Gretchen was right. You are a coward.”

Lane looked up. “She said that?”

“What did you think? You left in the middle of the night with your tail tucked.”

He rubbed his hands. “I can’t tell Grant. He’s going to be more pissed than Jacob.”

“So don’t tell.”

“I can’t see him and keep this secret.”

Trent gave a careless shrug. “So tell.”

“You’re a jackass.”

He grabbed the door. “And you are a coward. You won’t say anything, so you sit back and do nothing. Nice, real nice. Hope that works out for you, but don’t expect me to wait around and pity your ass.”

“I don’t want your pity.”

“What do you want?”

He shrugged. “To not have this problem anymore, but what point is there in pissing Grant off, making him more angry. Give him another reason to say,
If I had only known, I would have been there for her, spent more time with her
. No thank you.”

Jacob burst back through the door. A strong wind of salty air that turned Lane’s stomach a bit came with it. “You’re an ass. Let’s get that part out of the way. You should have said something. You know it. We all know it. You’re still an ass, but don’t you see? If Grant had known, he would have been with mom at the end and then…what? Nothing probably. Losing mom got his butt in gear to go to Apple Trail where he found Rebecca and where he’s trying make a go of a family. If you had said something, where would we all be right now?” He looked at Trent. “Where would you be?”

Trent shrugged. “Probably Montana.”

“Right.” Jacob looked back to Lane. “And I’d be in South Texas somewhere. Lord knows about Grant. But we’re not. Because you were a dumbass who made an idiot decision. Get over yourself and quit this pathetic sulking. I’m tired of seeing it, I’m sick of being asked about it, I’m tired of hearing it. I thought when you hooked up with Gretchen that was the end of it. I can’t believe you dragged us all the way down here for this. That’s what ticks me off the most.”

He stared at the worn carpet between his feet. He’d been happy with Gretchen. Lighter. She knew the truth he’d been hiding and just being with her lifted the weight off his shoulders. “Grant is going to be upset.”

“Just think of how mad he’ll be when you miss Thanksgiving and Christmas. He’s already mapping out our holidays. Grant’s going to be the easy one.” Trent looked to Jacob. “I’d be more concerned with trying to win Gretchen back.”

Lane stood. “We had something good going.”

Jacob chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, that’s hilarious. You think she’s going to be waiting for you to get back like you went off on a weeklong trip? You left her. In the middle of the night no less. I don’t know what all she told Flora, but I got an earful of it on the way down here and I can tell you right now, she’s pissed and getting her back isn’t going to be any picnic.”

Trent pulled his hands up to his hips. “We’ll figure something out on the way back. Let’s get you packed and get the hell out of here.”

Chapter
Eighteen

Gretchen shook the gallon paint can between her hands, set it down and reached for her screwdriver. For the last couple of days she’d been a woman on a mission.
A mission.
It didn’t have a name. It was just a mission. Of moving on.

Lane had taught her one thing, she was ready to move on. Onward and upward with life. Because of him, she was ready. And she was starting with her home. Aside from her desk, she didn’t have a stitch of furniture in her house. Not a dresser. Not a bed. Not a kitchen table. Nothing. She’d put the word out. Opened her door and told friends and neighbors they could have any of the furniture they wanted—except the desk.

She kept the desk because she bought it after Paul’s death. And because there was too much paperwork in there for the park to risk losing it in her
mission
. Everything else was gone. Even her clothes from before Paul’s death. She never wore them anyway. There was no need to keep them, not when someone else could use them.

It was all fresh and new and exciting. She popped the lid off the can, poured it over in the tray and reached for her brush and started on the living room walls. The wallpaper had been primed and now she was painting a simple tan. Sweat dripped down her temples, soaked in the hair at her nape, but she worked on. The windows were open for ventilation and she wasn’t running her air.

Aside from paint, she’d made a few purchases. A hope chest and scrapbooks. She’d pulled all of her pictures with Paul, scrapbooked them and put them away in the small chest. The chest was in her room, surrounded by the clothes she’d emptied on the floor from out of the dresser. Her cheeks warmed. Chest filled just thinking of all the things she’d found. Simple things. Small things. A pocketknife. A pen he’d always carried. Change tray. Things of his she’d raked off in a drawer to get them out of her mind when things got too hard. With time they’d fallen to the bottom, had been pushed to the back under clothes.

Now she had all that neatly put away, in one place to look through when she wanted. It was good. The ending of something and the beginning of something more, though she didn’t know what. More than just waiting around while life happened and exploded with everyone but her.

She stroked across the last of the wall and stopped when a vehicle pulled into the lot and parked in her drive. She wiped a bit of wet paint on her hips, put the roller down and turned as Lane walked in her door.

She blinked. God, it was him. Tall, broad shoulders. A shadow of hair over his head. Worn jeans and his work boots, looking like he’d never left. She figured he’d be back. Small part of her, though she wouldn’t acknowledge it much, knew he’d be back. He wouldn’t be able to resist his brothers, that much she’d figured.

She swallowed. “Lane. Hi.”

His hands were in his pockets as he walked in the trailer. “You’ve been busy.”

He walked near and she moved around the living room, trying to keep some distance. It’d been days since he’d left in the middle of the night like a rat fleeing a sinking ship. She didn’t want to feel the jumping in her stomach, the swelling in her chest at seeing him, or the itch of her skin, anxious to feel his hands.

He’d left her. When it came down to it, he’d chosen to run like a coward rather than face his family and do the right thing.

He’d left her.

She kept her chin up. They’d been casual before, that’s all they were supposed to maintain and that’s what she was aiming for until she knew more about what he was up to. “Can I do something for you?”

His gaze on her darkened. “Can I not just stop by? I used to.”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Things changed.”

“That fast? I’ve only been gone a few days.”

Oh, no. She wasn’t even going to play that game. “Only because your brothers went after you. Where would you be right now if not for them?”

Instead of answering, he turned away. “Nice paint color.”

About what she thought. “Thanks. So what can I do for you?”

“I just came to see you.”

She swiped her hands on her hips again. This time to remove the sweat. “I said I wouldn’t stand in the way when you left. That I would accept we’d be over.”

He stared at her.

She swallowed the ball of nerves in her throat and continued. “You left. We’re through.”

His head tilted to the side and man, she just wanted to run to him. Rub her cheek against his chest. “What if I want to change it?”

“What if I don’t?”

“You can’t expect me to believe that.”

She picked up a rag and wiped at the smallest clean corner of her desk, not that it did any good. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry I left. I shouldn’t have.” His hands lifted, palms up as he shrugged. “I’m back. I’m making a go of this. I want you back.”

She licked her lips and closed her eyes to brace herself for the hardest thing she was going to have to force out. “No.”

“No?”

“No. Good luck with being back and all. But no on us.”

He stared at her a moment. His brows were pulled together. “Why?”

“Why? Dear God, Lane, you slipped out in the middle of the night and ran away instead of facing what you wanted.” He’d
left
her. “How do I know you wouldn’t do that again? I’m not made for what we had. It was good while it lasted, but it’s over now.”

“So that’s it.”

“What else is there?”

He stroked a hand across his short-cropped hair and faced her. “I thought we were more. You know it too.”

If she just kept this up for a little bit longer, he’d be gone. Then she could fall apart. She knew it would be hard seeing him again. She hadn’t anticipated it being quite this hard. “Were we? When should I have figured that out? Between the times you said you weren’t staying or when I closed my eyes and held perfectly still when you left me?” Heaviness filled the back of her throat. Tears reached her eyes, but she took a breath and blinked it off. “You say one thing, Lane, but you do something else.”

He crossed the distance so fast, she didn’t have time to keep this dance around the living room she’d been maintaining. Not with her cornered behind her desk. He closed in. A hand cupped the back of her head, another smoothed across her back and flattened her to his chest. With no warning, his lips descended. Energy and sparks roared. Blood pulsed.

Even if she’d had warning, she wasn’t so sure she could have resisted, but oh how she needed to. How she needed to push him away from her. He was far too dangerous for her. And she deserved more.

There was a man for her who would stick around and wouldn’t run from problems in his family or from her. He would stick by her side no matter what and wouldn’t…desert her.

Like Paul had deserted her. Like Lane had.

There was someone for her, someone who would stay.

Doing what had to be done, she put her hands flat on his chest, turned her head and pushed. “Stop.”

He quit kissing her. He didn’t stop holding her. The tips of his fingers stroked along her jaw and caressed over her cheek. “We’re not done.”

“Then you’re not listening.”

“I’m going to fix this.”

“I’m sure you think you will.”

He winced and pulled his hands from her. “Can I have the key to my trailer back?”

She tugged her shirt straight and wanted to squeeze around him to escape the small hole he’d cornered her in, but there was no room. “You don’t have a trailer here.”

“I don’t?”

“You left the key by the door. You weren’t planning to return.”

“My stuff?”

“Storage, where it’s held until you pay me the last month’s rent on the trailer. You left at the start of the month. Whether you remained through the entire month isn’t an issue. It’s not prorated out by the day. All this is in the renter’s contract. Standard procedure.”

“I see.” He reached in his wallet and handed her the cash for the rent he owed. “Can I have the key to my trailer now?”

She held up the cash in her hands. “You can have the key to your storage locker, but you left. You don’t have a trailer here anymore. But I have one available if you’d like to rent.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “All right. I’d like to rent it.”

“Great. There’s some paperwork to fill out and I’ll need three references—”

“References?”

“Yes.” She reached in the drawer at her desk. “People who can vouch for you. Former renters, employers, whatever. Some people use friends who are cops.”

“You don’t have much faith in me, do you?”

“I guess my faith in you left when you did. You did owe another month’s rent and you didn’t leave that check behind when you left your key by the door. So yes, you want a trailer, I need references.” She reached into the file for the paperwork and grabbed the key to the storage building. “Here, fill these out. Three references minimum. If you get the trailer, I’ll need a month’s deposit ahead of time and you’ll need to sign a year’s agreement.”

Chapter
Nineteen

Lane sank back in his chair, twisted the sweating cold glass in his hand on the table and watched a bead of liquid work its way down the side.

“You look miserable.”

Lane glanced up to see Tonya sliding in the booth across from him. He held up a hand for her to back off. He couldn’t handle whatever ideas she had in mind. Not with Gretchen so heavy on his mind. Besides, this probably needed to be cleared out anyway. “No condoms this time. I didn’t want them last time. Not interested now.”

She blinked and straightened in her chair. “What?”

“The condoms you gave me. I mean, it was weird then. I want Gretchen. I’m—”

“Wait.” Tonya laughed. “You thought…” Her eyes watered, she covered her mouth and leaned over the table as laughter shook her shoulders. “Oh, my God.
No.
”

He frowned. “No?”

“Those were to make sure you were covered. With Gretchen.” She leaned back, her hands over her chest. “It wasn’t an invitation! I can’t believe you thought it was. I have a boyfriend.”