Say No To Joe? (28 page)

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Authors: Lori Foster

BOOK: Say No To Joe?
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Chapter Thirteen
I
t hadn't been easy to look for clues with Austin dancing around him, talking like a chatterbox. Joe had known kids, plenty of kids. But he'd never realized the strength of their individual natures. They were complex little people, and he found he enjoyed uncovering and understanding each facet of their personalities.
It hadn't taken him long to conclude that Austin used bold statements whenever he felt threatened. Bravado masked his biggest fears, those of losing Willow and being left alone. He was pugnacious when riled, loud when uncertain, and forever bursting with questions about everything and everyone.
He was a proud little guy, refusing to admit to insecurities.
Willow reacted to her worries just the opposite. She said what she thought and felt, and when she wasn't comfortable doing that, she said nothing at all, closing up tighter than a clam and keeping to herself.
For two years, she'd had the weight of the world on her frail shoulders, but she'd handled it like a trooper and kept her priorities straight. Circumstances had forced a level of maturity on her normally expected of someone five or six years older, yet she still had an adolescent's vulnerability.
She'd broken down that morning—and crushed Joe's heart in the process. How anyone could deliberately hurt that little girl was beyond him. Like Austin, Willow was very special to him now. She was family, damn it, and Joe protected his family.
He thought about Luna's comments in the kitchen—and he felt like a pig. He'd been in such a rush to get her into bed, not once had he ever really asked her about her life. Now his brain was bombarded with questions. If she wasn't close with any of her family, where did she spend her holidays? Alone, eating Lean Cuisine? Just the thought of that made his stomach cramp and nearly suffocated him in tender thoughts. He'd be willing to bet that no one did anything special for her on her birthday—hell, he didn't even know her birth date. But he'd find out. In a thousand different ways, he'd make up for her losses. She understood the responsibility of family; now Joe wanted to show her how fun family could be.
While cleaning the paint off the shed, Joe carefully inspected the area. Footprints remained in the loamy, dew-wet ground, showing large, adult-sized feet. Surprisingly, the tread wasn't that of a sneaker or athletic shoe, but rather a smooth-bottomed dress shoe.
The prints were fresh, and they weren't Joe's.
Bent weeds and crushed wildflowers left a very visible path. Whoever had painted the vile words had come across the same bramble-laden field where Joe had gotten scratched up after the last incident. It served as a prime location to leave a car while approaching the property.
A hidden camera at the road would be a good idea. He'd see to that first thing today. Joe no sooner had that thought than he shook his head.
A trip to the security store would be second on his list of things to do. First came Luna. He wanted to make love to her, to continue his daily campaign to win her over. She hadn't realized it yet, but he'd staked a claim. Not a temporary claim, either. No, Luna was his, and she was staying his.
She'd figure it out soon enough when he refused to leave.
 
 
Willow meandered outside, not really looking for Clay.
She wasn't.
But Ms. Rose had given her a break while she and Austin worked on bugs. Ick. She didn't even want to be in the same room with the creepy things, so Ms. Rose said it was okay for her to go out to the playground as long as she didn't leave the fenced-in area.
Since her first day at the summer school, she'd seen Clay hanging around outside. She'd deliberately ignored him. He hadn't been with his friends, but stood outside alone. Waiting. For her?
As she stepped away from the building, Willow glanced around and there he was, leaning over the chain-link fence that surrounded the playground as if he'd known she would come. She hated him.
She was so glad to see him.
The second his gaze settled on hers, Willow put her nose in the air and turned away, purposely snubbing him, wishing she could hurt him as much as he'd hurt her.
Apparently through with waiting, Clay jumped over the fence and started toward her. “Willow!”
She whipped around, stunned at his persistence—and secretly pleased. “Go away, Clay. I don't want to talk to you.”
“Then just let me talk.” His long legs ate up the distance between them.
“I don't want to listen to you either.”
He drew up short, frustrated, embarrassed. “C'mon, Willow. You won't take my calls, you won't visit with me.” His face was red, but he continued, determined. “I . . . I want to tell you that I'm sorry.”
Shock rippled through her, but Willow did her best to hide it. She crossed her arms and glared. “For what?”
He scowled right back, his hands on his hips, his gaze direct. “For everything. For . . . being mean and saying nasty stuff to you.”
Willow's heart raced, shaking her so badly she sneered, “Why did you?”
“I dunno.” His gaze was locked on hers, troubled by her loss of control. He shrugged in helpless confusion and took two more cautious steps toward her. “You went out with that guy and—”
“And he told lies on me.” She took two steps toward him, squaring off. If he insulted her again, she'd pop him right in the nose. “And
you
believed him, Clay Owen.” Then, choking on her hurt, she added, “I hate you.”
His shoulders fell. Very softly he said, “No, you don't.” He inched closer until he stood right in front of her. He had his hands tucked into his pants pockets, his head down. She heard him swallow. “I'm sorry, Willow.”
Willow turned her back on him. “Fine. Apology accepted.” She sniffed, hating the stupid tears. They'd never gotten her much. They certainly hadn't gotten her mother back or returned their lives to normal. For the longest time now she'd faced each new day with grim acceptance, just wanting to get through it but not quite enjoying it. She'd hated Patricia, but she'd been afraid to say so. Dinah had often told her that if she and Austin didn't behave, they could be split up and put in foster homes. Patricia didn't abuse them; for the most part, she just ignored them. And Willow had considered that better than some of the alternatives.
But there'd been no love, and she felt so hollowed out inside, it sickened her.
And Clay . . . He'd deliberately added misery to her life when she couldn't understand why. The tears clogged in her throat, and she started away from him, refusing to let him see.
He caught her arm. “Willow.”
He sounded ready to cry, too, but she didn't care. “Let go.” Darn, her voice had been all wavery, not at all earnest.
“No.” Very gently, he brought her around to him. He tried to see her face, but Willow kept her head lowered, her face averted. “I've been an awful jerk, Willow. I don't blame you for not wanting to talk to me. I was just so jealous, and I liked you so much . . . more than any other girl I know.”
A humorless laugh erupted. “Good thing you didn't hate me then, huh?”
“I could never hate you.” He tucked her long hair behind her ear. “Can we start over, Willow? Please?”
Filled with suspicion, Willow forced her head up. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you being so nice now?” She didn't understand his sudden turnaround, and she sure didn't trust it.
His mouth twisted in a wry grin. “I got the impression that big guy at your house would never let me near you again otherwise.”
“Joe? You're being nice to me only because of Joe?”
“No.” He hurried to reassure her, stumbling on his words. “I was really mad when he told me to get lost, and I was thinking of ways to get to you, how I could still see you without him knowing. And that got me thinking about
why
I want to see you so bad that I'd risk getting in trouble with him.” Clay cleared his throat. “He's kind of an intimidating guy.”
“I know. But he's real nice. At least to me and Austin.” She wasn't ready to let him off the hook and added with a hint of menace, “I don't know how he feels about you.”
Clay's Adam's apple did a dive when he swallowed hard. “You know, since your mom died, everyone has said bad things about you and Austin. Everything changed and I hated that.” He chewed his bottom lip, thinking. “I guess I, um, took it out on you.”
Clay had been one of the few familiar things that remained in her life, and he'd so easily destroyed that. “Real nice of you, Clay. Thanks.”
He tipped his head back and groaned. “God, I'm sorry, Willow. Really.” He held both her hands. “Please give me another chance.”
Still not trusting him, she asked, “A chance for what?”
“We could just be friends—if that's what you want.”
He sounded as if he wanted a whole lot more, but Willow wasn't about to forgive him so quickly. Still, she wanted, needed, a friend more than anything else. Her chest hurt, but she said, “Yeah, all right. But you'll have to be nice to Austin, too.”
He grinned, and Willow felt her heart flutter and her stomach flip. He was just so cute. “Can you keep him from pounding on me?”
“As long as you're nice, Austin will be nice. At least, I think so. He doesn't like you much more than Joe does.”
Still grinning, Clay said, “I'll win Austin over.”
“What about your friends?”
“To hell with 'em. If they're mean to you, then they can get lost. I don't care.”
Happiness started to bubble inside her. A smile twitched, but she bit her lip to hide it. “What about your stepdad?”
Suddenly Clay looked older than sixteen. He straightened his shoulders like a man and turned serious. “I'm sorry that he's never liked you. I don't understand it except that he takes his duties to the town real serious, and he thinks the fact that you and Austin don't have a dad is a bad influence or something. But he's wrong about you, Willow, and I don't care what he thinks anymore.”
“He might get mad at you if he knows we're . . . friends.”
Clay shook his head. “He doesn't have to know, but even if he does find out, it won't matter.” He tugged her closer, dropping his forehead to hers. “We've been friends a long time, Willow. You're the only one that matters.”
He started to kiss her, but Willow turned her head and his mouth brushed her cheek. It was enough to make her flush, to cause her toes to curl inside her new sandals. Very few guys had ever kissed her, but she felt ready to give it a try.
After
she knew for certain that Clay was sincere. “I should go back in.”
Clay released her. “Okay.” He drew a big breath. “If I call you later, will you talk to me?”
“Sure.” Willow started backing toward the school. Though she tried to contain her smile, her cheeks hurt. Things seemed so different now, better, promising.
And then she saw the scratches on Clay's arms. Her stomach dropped into her feet and she swayed.
“Willow?” Clay trotted toward her. “What is it?”
He started to touch her, but she reeled back, sickened by a barrage of suspicion. “Your arms.”
He glanced down. “My arms?”
“How did you get those scratches?” She stared at him with accusation, with fresh heartache. “How, Clay?”
“They're nothing.” He stared down at the scratches with indifference. “Quincy brought a stray kitten home and it's still trying to get comfortable settling in. It's more wild than not—sort of reminds me of Austin if you want the truth.” He tried a teasing grin that only made Willow feel more hollow.
“A cat?” Disbelief swept through her. Quincy Owen was not a pet lover. Willow didn't know how she knew that, but she did. “You expect me to believe that your stepdad brought home a cat?”
Now Clay frowned. “Why would I lie about it?” And when she still frowned at him, he shrugged. “Come by the house and see for yourself. We made it a real nice bed in the mudroom. I'm going to take it to the vet's tomorrow for shots and stuff.”
She hated the pleading in her tone when she whispered, “Don't lie to me, Clay.”
“I'm not.” He searched her face, worried, sincere.
“I won't.
I swear it, Willow.”
She stared at him a long time, and finally believed him. “All right.” Her heart still raced, as much with hope as dread. Should she tell Joe? God, she just didn't know and she felt sick with trepidation. “I . . . I have to go in now.”
“Wait.” He reached out for her, but she ducked away. “Willow, why were you asking about—?”

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