Sing for Your Supper (8 page)

“All right?” he asked as I finally straightened.

“Yeah.”

He pulled free, slipped the condom off and deftly tied it. He was silent as he turned into the water, letting it wash over his broad chest and plaster the curly dark hair down. His hands made lazy work of washing his cock in the stream, and I couldn’t take my eyes of the spectacle. Even flaccid as it now was, it was impressive.

It took a moment to realise I was also under scrutiny.

“Was that too rough?” Jim asked, his voice a soft rumble under the sound of the water.

He watched me, wary, still, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to trust my answer.

I opted for truth. “Not quite.”

“Did I hurt ya?” Concern snuck in behind the wariness, and two lines of worry fluted his forehead just between his brows.

I smiled. “No. It was…intense. But good.”

Jim nodded. “Good.” The furrows went a little deeper as he watched me, almost like the big man didn’t know what to do or say next.

I let the smile widen and turned so I could close my eyes and stick my head under the spray. “Thought you were going to feed us.”

“Uh. Yeah, right.” The shower door opened and Jim stepped out, leaving a cushion of empty air around me. “I’ll go get somethin’ on the stove.”

“Good. I’m starved.” Which wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t keen on the whole abrupt nature of the encounter, but there was no point making the poor man stand there not knowing what to say. Sex was sex. Good sex was good sex. I wasn’t about to complain or hold him to anything. Except making sure he had a pillow for me to sit on for supper.

Chapter Eight

Out in the main room, dressed in loose jeans and a T-shirt, I went straight to the kitchen to lean on the counter and watch him pour a can of baked beans into a pot.

“So I’m no chef,” he muttered. “Maybe the diner is more your style.”

“Shut it.” Eyeing him, I moved over slightly, and turned down the high flame under the pot, took the spoon from his hand and set it aside.

He turned his head to look at me, but didn’t relax the tense set of his body.

“Ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Whatever you want to. About Matt, about whatever.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations.” Jim reached for the spoon, but I moved it out of his reach. “Taylor…”

“Yes, I slept with him. I needed to eat.” My face flushed hot. Jim didn’t look at me, but his fingers flexed on the handle of the pot, and a ripple of greater tension snaked through his muscles. “He was good to me, Jim. It was my idea but he didn’t use me any more than I used him. It was a onetime thing. We knew that going in. He didn’t ask me to stay, and I didn’t offer.”

“I didn’t hire you to be a fuck toy,” he said. “I shouldn’t have—”

“I know.” I risked touching him, laying a hand on his back. The muscles were rigid, hard as granite and I couldn’t help a little sigh. “I acted like a whore. Again.” I moved off to lean on the soft arm of his couch. “It won’t happen again.”

My chest ached, but I forced the words out. I wanted him. He didn’t want me. It was too complicated, and for the first time, I couldn’t just let it go. He hadn’t approached with any more aplomb or promises than any other cowboy who wanted something from me, so what was the difference? In less than a day, it should be impossible that I care so much what he thought of me. But I did, and now, I had to sit across the table from him, choke down warmed beans and pretend none of it mattered.

What the hell were you thinking, Matt? Sending me here. What the fuck were you thinking, Taylor? Letting him fuck you.

Supper was awkward. We worked together to get the couch turned down quickly and in silence. Once I was settled, he disappeared into the bedroom, closed the door, and a second later, I heard the lock snick into place.

Hollow me out with spoon, why don’t you?

I lay on the lumpy mattress, physically aching and mentally exhausted, and stared at the criss-cross of rafters above.

“Fuck me.”

But then, they had, two guys in one day, and they obviously had something between them that I stepped in the middle of. I doubted I would be able to wash the stink off long enough to figure out what was going on.

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but a shrill jangling woke me with a heart-stopping fright. I sat up as Jim came barrelling out of his room in just his boxers, and snatched a phone off a wall hook near the door.

“What?” his sleep-gravelled voice rumbled through the room, shaking some of the sleep out of my head. It was still dark, but turning grey around the edges as dawn sneaked towards the horizon.

“What the hell do you want?” That sounded more bear-like than sleepy.

I curled my legs up to sit cross-legged and take some pressure off my back. Two nights on pull out couches was not helping after the manhandling in the shower, the hard work, and six months sleeping scrunched in my Jeep.

“Hang on.” Jim turned to glare at me. “Onetime thing…” He jerked the phone at me. “It’s for you.”

I got up, took the phone, and he stormed off to his room. The door slammed hard, shaking the walls behind him.

“Geez, Taylor, I’m sorry.” Matt’s voice came apologetically over the line as I put the phone to my ear. “I guess something…I was right, huh?”

“Right about what?”

“Never mind. Listen, I called because someone stopped by the diner a few minutes ago. Tall guy, big, kind of… Anyway, he asked about you. I didn’t like the way he looked. I thought I should let you know.”

“Brown hair and eyes? Nose a bit crooked?”

“Yeah.”

“Luke
Driscoll
.” A cold shiver left me numb. “What’d—”

“I didn’t tell him where you were! God, you think I’d do that?”

“No.” I eased my tight grip on the phone. “Was he alone?”

“He came in alone, but I think there were a couple guys in his truck. What’d he do to you, Taylor?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Hey. You need help—”

“I know. I know. Thanks.”

I hung up the phone, but for a long time, just stood there. I’d hoped Luke wasn’t still looking for me, that maybe he’d given up at last. But I’d cost him his job, and ruined his rep. He was probably as hard up for work as I was. This was a worse feeling than the gritty barn floor under my head as he used me. At least that I knew would be over. Six months of not quite catching up was a long time for him to work up just how much he hated me. He’d been willing to hurt me before. What did he have in mind now?

“So.” Jim’s voice from the doorway of his room made me jump. Every nerve-ending in my body jangled with tension, and I whirled around. “You’d better tell me what you’re not running from there, Jumpy.”

“I—”

“Matt seems to think it was worth helping you. He’s a good judge of these things.”

“I can be out of your hair in a few minutes,” I mumbled. “No need for you to get involved.” I had the sudden desire to be anywhere but in that room, telling this man anything about Luke
Driscoll
or the gut-gnawing fear he inspired.

“Like hell.” Jim crossed the room in three long strides, grabbed my arm and spun me around to face him. “What do you think? I’m just the kind of guy who takes and doesn’t give a shit about how it affects people?”

“N-no.” I knew my eyes went wide. I drew in deep breath after breath through my nose, trying desperately not to transfer everything I was feeling onto Jim. Just because he was big and brutish, because his eyes sparkled with anger didn’t make him anything like the man I was running from.

He loosened his grip slightly, but didn’t let go. “Suit yourself. If this shit comes down on Matt, you’d better be ready to answer for that.” He didn’t quite push me away. “If you’re leaving, get the fuck out now. Otherwise, get your ass in the truck and get back to the barn, feed the horses and let them out. I’ll bring breakfast in a couple hours.”

He took his truck keys and dropped them on the kitchen counter. “Coffee’s there.” One beefy finger jabbed the air in the direction of the dripping coffee pot, but he was already turning his back, headed for his room.

I dressed quickly, stood, indecisive for a minute before snatching up the keys and heading to the truck. He’d offered to help, allowed me my privacy, and threatened me with bodily harm all in practically the same breath.

And you still want what he gave you last night.

I couldn’t deny it. And I now knew I was right about the tension around Matt. He had a strange way of showing he cared, but somehow, I knew he did. Whatever Matt was to him, he didn’t want the diner owner to come to harm, and I was suddenly very afraid that when Luke found out Matt had lied to him, that’s exactly what would happen.

Halfway out the door, I stopped, went back to find a pen and scribbled a note on the pad of paper by the phone, telling him I’d gone into town to check on Matt. I had the sick feeling if I didn’t hurry, I’d be way too late to stop Luke taking out his frustration on him.

Chapter Nine

I recognised Luke’s Durango immediately, parked crookedly in front of the diner.

“Shit!” I jumped out of Jim’s truck and ran for the front door. The glass pane of the main door was shattered all over the porch. “Shit, shit, shit!”

The bell jangled loudly in the stillness as I flung the door open and rushed inside. Tables and chairs had been overturned and the counter flung back on its hinges. I headed for the back and the stairs leading up to Matt’s apartment.

“
Driscoll
!” My voice rose an octave as I shouted, and a thump sounded just as I reached the stairs. I took them two at a time, my heart hammering, my throat closing. “Stop! I’m here. Leave him—”

Words clogged in my throat at the sight that greeted me as I flung open the door of Matt’s apartment. The place was trashed. Matt himself was a heap on the floor, blood pouring down his swollen face. A low moan eased out of split lips, and his chest heaved shallowly, as though moving any more than that caused too much pain. Luke Driscoll stood over him, fist wrapped around the very same branding iron he’d threatened me with all those months ago.

“Stop it, Luke.” I choked on the words, advancing to try and help Matt, but I didn’t get far. Two men I’d barely noticed nabbed me by both arms. Stupidly, I just stood there, staring down at Matt’s prone form.

Don’t fucking hit him again. God, please don’t hurt him anymore.

Luke’s lip curled in a sneer. “Come to save lover-boy?” he raised his hand, lifting the heavy iron above his head.

“No!” I lunged, gaining maybe an inch, and writhed in the grips of the men holding me. “Please! Leave him alone. He was just trying to help me. Just—” I took a deep breath, stilled my body, if not my racing heart or frantic fear, and met his sneer. “You came for me, right? Leave him. He was just a fuck for a meal anyway.”

Driscoll laughed. “You’ve always been a very bad liar.” He brought the iron down, though, shoved Matt hard in the ribs, eliciting another agonised moan. “Whatever.” Luke lifted his attention back up to me. “You’ll be pleased to know he didn’t say a word about where you really were.” He shook his head in disgust. “Stupid fag.” He gave Matt a half-hearted kick and stepped over him, ignoring the weak coughing fit and spittle of blood that sprayed across the floor from Matt’s mouth.

“You and I,” Luke shoved his face in close and snarled at me, “we have things to talk about.” He tapped the business end of his iron onto the palm of his hand. “You screwed me over, Anderson.”