Unbroken (22 page)

“Amber, I . . . honest to God, I do not disrespect you for anything. Not anything you've done with me, or anyone else. I was pissed, so I said something stupid, but it wasn't supposed to degrade you or what we did. It was just . . . I was just pointing out that the rules have changed between us.”

“Maybe that's what I'm uncomfortable with,” she said.

“Well . . . I can't help with that. We can't take it back.”

“I know,” she said, picking at a rounded fuzzy on her quilt. “But you don't have . . . boyfriend rights. You're a friend. I sleep with. Have slept with.”

“So does that mean we aren't sleeping together anymore?”

“Realistically? No. Because neither of us have anyone else in our lives and well . . . you're living here and oh, holy damn, look at you.”

“Thanks,” he said, shifting and then moving into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “I think. It's hard to know whether or not I'm complimented when you talk about the inevitability of falling into bed with me with all the glee of a prisoner facing a scheduled execution.”

“It's not like that at all.”

“No?”

“For one thing, when I'm with you I only lose my head metaphorically. Were this a French Revolution–style execution it would be me, Madame Guillotine and literal head loss.”

“You need more coffee.”

“Do I not make sense?”

“No, you make a weird kind of sense. And the fact that I understand you is frightening to me.”

“Sorry. I'll keep my early-morning logic to myself next time.”

“It'd be better if you did.”

“It'd probably be better if I'd kept my desire to suck you off to myself too,” she mused.

He nearly choked. “Do you have to say things like that?”

“No.”

“Then why do you?”

“It's fun to watch your face go all still and pale.”

“You're a sadistic woman, Amber Jameson.”

“A little, I grant you.”

“So where does that leave us?”

She put her hand on her chin and tapped her fingers just beneath her lip. “Uh . . . maybe in the barn, naked, with a riding crop?”

“Not funny.”

“Who's laughing?”

“I'm serious,” he said.

“As might I have been.” She cleared her throat. “I guess that leaves us where we've been. Sleeping with each other, at least while you're here.”

“And after?”

“Don't be such a chick, Mitchell. Who needs to think about the future?” She leaned back against the headboard, her fingers curled around the coffee mug. Her dark hair was tousled, her eyes slumberous and particularly sexy as a result.

“I guess I don't if you don't.”

“Back to Quinn, though.”

“Yeah?”

“He's going to help you figure out who hurt you?”

“He's going to see if Sam will let me talk to his son. He knows something. I mean, I don't think he knows something he's withholding purposefully, but he knew enough to know that it wasn't Quinn who approached him, and I'm just curious what else he might be able to tell me.” Cade sat on the edge of the bed and rested his arms on his thighs. “Of course, he may not want me giving his kid the third degree, which is understandable.”

“Right. Sure. But he's not a child, is he?”

“He's sixteen or seventeen. I'm not really sure.”

“So it's not like he's a baby. I'm sure Sam will be okay with you talking to him. Anyway, it's about your life. Your future.”

Cade shrugged. “Is it? Or is it just me wanting to get my pound of flesh?”

“You're entitled to it, Cade. Don't start feeling differently now. You're entitled to a whole damn hide. Tan it, stretch it, hang it on your effing wall. It's your right. Whoever did that to you stole your career. Your passion. And he made you hurt, not just in that moment, not just emotionally, but physically. For four years you've been in pain every day. And maybe you aren't angry about it anymore, but I am. Your family is. Because we hate to see you in pain. Because you don't deserve it.”

“That's nice of you to say, but who knows? Maybe I do deserve it. Maybe it's good that I'm hobbled. Hell, my dad could have used a little hobbling. Might have solved some things for everyone.”

“You don't have anything to do with what your dad did, Cade.”

“No? You don't think? I enabled him. I kept my mouth shut.”

“You were a kid. Kids do that.”

“You just said sixteen wasn't a kid,” he said, giving her a sideways look. “Can't have it both ways.”

“Sure I can. I'm having you as a lover and a best friend. I'm having pancakes while still in bed. I can have things both ways if I damn well choose.”

“You're amazing, you know that?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” She took another sip of her coffee.

“You're going to have to put your cup down now.”

She looked up at him. “Why?”

“Because I'm about to push you back on the bed and have my way with you.”

She put the mug down on the nightstand and sloshed liquid over the side. “I'm down with that.”

“Oh, you're down with that?” he asked, leaning in, planting his hands on either side of her head as she slid down the headboard and positioned herself so she was flat on her back.

She nodded, her teeth clamped down over her lower lip. She was so cute it was painful to look at, her dark eyes glittering with mischief, her hair spread over the pillows.

“You down with this too?” He angled his head and kissed her neck. He felt her pulse jump beneath his lips, and there was an answering kick in his gut.

“Yes,” she said. “But be quick, my pancakes are going to get cold.”

“Your pancakes,” he said, his voice a growl, “are going to be very, very cold by the time we're done here.” He gripped her thigh and tugged her leg up over his ass, settling between her legs.

“You make that sound like a good thing.”

“Oh, baby,” he said, kissing her neck again, “it will be. And have I mentioned how happy I am you voted for us continuing to sleep together?”

“Well, you bought all those condoms.”

“You're so practical.”

“I am.” She angled her face and stretched upward, biting his lower lip. The pain shot straight down to his groin.

He swore incoherently. “You have to warn me before you do things like that.”

“No, I don't.”

“No,” he said, grinning, “you don't.”

“You like me to surprise you,” she said.

“I do.”

“You ready for more surprises?”

“Oh, hell yeah.”

Eighteen

Amber had been smiling for the past three weeks, nonstop.
Which was odd, all things considered. Since her grandfather was in a nursing home, though, he was recovering nicely. And her crazy-ass best friend was currently building bison fencing around the property she lived on.

But then, said crazy-ass friend was also responsible for the smile.

Sleeping with Cade was . . . better than chocolate, wine, beer, riding horses and Jet Li's butt in that one movie with all the subtitles.

That was to say, it was epic.

She practically skipped down the stairs toward the smell of pancakes, which were Cade's specialty, and toward Cade, who made getting up every morning seem like a lot of fun.

Of course, getting up wasn't as great as staying in bed wrapped in his arms, but she still had a job to do.

The only thing that was getting hard was separating out their relationship. Because it was starting to feel very . . . relationshippy. She'd never slept with a man the way she did with him. Had never spent all night tangled up in blankets with a guy.

Had never woken up and brushed her teeth next to a man who was doing the same. Had never shared breakfasts and showers and all these domestic things they were sharing.

But then, she'd already decided she didn't have to sort that out at the moment. Or ever. Maybe they would never sort it out. They would have scorching hot sex while he was here, and then when he left they would never speak of it again.

That could work. That would be her temporary plan.

Her heart stopped when she came into the kitchen. He was standing at the stove, spatula in hand, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms shifting as he flipped the pancakes.

Then her eyes went straight to his jeans. Or, more specifically, the back of his jeans. Or, more specifically, the way his ass looked in his jeans.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Morning.” He turned and offered her a half smile, and her heart did crazy tricks.

She really, really wished that Cade only gave her feelings in her panties. Sadly, he seemed to be giving her the emotion sort of feelings too.

And that was another thing she really didn't want to sort out.

“I left you some coffee over there.”

Oh, damn. Yep, right in the heart again.

“Thank you.” She moved over to the counter and picked up her mug, which contained coffee that was clearly fixed to her specifications. It was exactly the right shade. Not too light, not too dark.

She lifted it to her lips and took the first sip. Then grimaced.

“What did you put in this?”

“Just a little cream and sugar.”

“Hmm.” She took another sip and frowned. “I think the cream might be off.”

“It tasted fine to me.”

“My palate is probably more refined.”

“True. For example, I have a taste for you, while you have one for me.”

She lifted her middle finger and waved it in his direction. Then the bastard crossed the kitchen and kissed the tip of the offending finger.

“That's too sweet,” she said, her chest getting all funny and tight.

She was a mess this morning.

“Sorry. Maybe that's the problem with your coffee. I stuck my finger in it and over-sugared it.”

“Har har.” She put her mug back on the counter and sat at the table.

The pancakes were good, but she couldn't motivate herself to try and finish the coffee. She would buy new cream before she left town after work.

She tried to stop herself from making googly eyes at Cade across the table. But dammit, it was hard. She was all post-orgasmic and crap.

“I'll drive you,” he said.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean . . . you have bisoning to do. Fences must be built, fields must be prepped, et cetera.”

“I think I can take fifteen minutes out of my day to drive you to work. And anyway, I might get some pie or something out of the deal. When I show up, Delia tends to feed me.”

“Yes, she does.”

“And grill me about why I haven't given you a ring.”

Amber groaned. “Yeah. Well, this little charade is already intense enough without adding diamonds to it. Not that I'm opposed to diamonds, but it seems like it's a bit extravagant, don't you think?”

“I'll stick to engagement pancakes.”

“I'm good with that.”

He leaned across the table and kissed her lips, and she felt her insides melt like whipped cream with hot syrup on top.

“I'm glad to hear it,” he said.

“Well. Well. Work,” she said.

“With the gentle reminder that if you'd let me take care of you, we could be in bed f—”

“Ahh! No. If I'd taken you up on that my grandpa would be here.” And his near-use of a crude word for their activities had killed her gooey feelings. And made her kind of hot.

“Okay, yeah, so there would be that.”

“This would not be a naked free-for-all.”

“That sounds more enticing than you know. In fact, we could go ahead and make everything clothing-optional.”

“I don't know if I'd man the skillet with vulnerable parts out, Mitchell.”

He grimaced. “Okay, good point.”

“Now, come on. I'm going to be late.”

He stood and walked toward the front door, pausing at her discarded mug. “Did you want your coffee?”

She shook her head. “Nah. I'll get some at work later.”

“Okay.”

“I'm going to fantasize about you building fences all day,” she said. “So manly.”

“Then I'll fantasize about you making me sandwiches.”

She narrowed her eyes, and for some strange reason, she felt her chest get even tighter from all the emotion. “Jackass.”

“Yeah, but I'm a jackass who's going to get you to work on time. Come on.”

*   *   *

“Cade.”

The tone of Lark's voice over the phone sounded dire enough that Cade redirected his truck toward the house the minute he heard it.

“What's up?”

“You should get over here.”

“Already on my way. What's going on?”

“A friend of yours is here at the house.”

He hung up. “Shit.”

“What?” Amber asked.

He'd just picked her up from work and he knew she was exhausted. But he also knew that she would understand. “I think it's Davis. At Elk Haven.”

“Why? Does he have everyone at gunpoint? You sound dire.”

“Well, Lark was cagey enough that he damn well might.”

He didn't. Cade was sure of that. Well, he was ninety-nine percent sure. Though Amber had now put the idea in his head. So it was there.

Which was just great.

When they pulled up to the ranch house, his theory was proven right about it being Davis. His truck was in the driveway.

“Okay, now what the hell is he doing here?”

“Nothing good,” Amber said.

“I don't like that he's still hanging around here. It's been weeks, and he's still here. And now he's harassing my family.”

“He was bothering Nicole a while back in the diner too,” she said.

“What? And you didn't tell me?”

“I was too busy dealing with the intense, depressing reality of my grandfather's health and drowning my sorrow in multiple orgasms with you, so no, I guess in all that, I forgot to tell you.”

Cade parked in front of the main house and slammed the door shut, stomping inside. Amber would follow. He knew she didn't need an invitation.

He opened the front door and stopped in the lobby area. Davis was there. And Nicole. Cole looking stressed, Kelsey looking wide-eyed. Quinn was in the corner, looking like he was just waiting for an excuse to cause bodily damage to Davis, and Lark was standing next to her husband with her zombie-killing face on.

“What the hell are you doing here, Davis?” Cade asked.

“The cavalry has arrived,” Davis said.

“Are you asking my family to sell up too? I guarantee you, the answer is no here, the same as it is at Amber's place.”

“That's actually not why I'm here.”

“And why are you here?” Cade asked, directing that question at the room in general.

“He came to see me,” Nicole said.

“What?”

“The rumor flying around town is that she's a bastard Mitchell child. I thought I might drop in and see if that was true.”

“Cade and I are bastards,” Cole said, “but not in the literal sense. Nicole, on the other hand, is pretty nice to be around.”

“Not what I meant,” Davis said.

“Oh, no, we got what you meant,” Quinn said. “I think you're third-best in this room at subtlety. Which is fitting, since you were always third-best at riding.”

“Who was first?” Cade asked.

Quinn shot him a look and shrugged a shoulder. “Doesn't matter.”

Like hell it didn't. But Cade would let it go for now in favor of more pressing issues. “What's it to you?” Cole asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Quinn straightened and moved to stand near Cole, and Cade did the same. He might be slightly impaired, but between himself and the men on his right, Davis could incur some serious damage.

“I thought it might be nice to have a chat with her. Since we have something in common.”

“I hope you mean matching tattoos,” Cole said.

“More like similar DNA.”

For a full ten seconds, it was completely quiet in the room. Cade just stood, completely frozen, while he tried to sort through the implications of what Davis was saying.

There was an accepted reality he lived in. It sucked, but it was his. The one where his dad was a womanizing ass with an illegitimate child and a mistress who lived about six hours from the family ranch.

This reality, as bad as it was, only made room for one mistress. And one child.

And what Davis was saying seemed to imply that . . .

The room tilted a little bit. And then he felt Amber's fingers curling around the fabric on his shirtsleeve. And that was when he knew he didn't have it wrong. That was when he knew that was exactly what Jim Davis was saying.

That he was another bastard Mitchell.

This man who was the same age as him. This man who he'd competed against on the circuit. Ridden next to nearly every damn day during competition seasons.

This man who'd been sniffing around causing nothing but trouble for everyone he came into contact with for the past month.

This man who was a total and complete asshole.

He suddenly felt terrible for rejecting Nicole the way that he had. Apparently, random half-siblings who came out of the woodwork didn't have to be decent human beings.

“I'd ask for proof,” Cole said, “but I'm not sure what you'd benefit by claiming our dad.”

“Well, I want proof,” Cade said. “What the hell makes you think our dad is . . . your dad?”

“I knew our dad. He even visited for the first nine years of my life. That's when, I assume, the other bastard rug rat showed up. I guess three families was a little much for him to manage.”

Cade's stomach took a free fall and landed in his boots. All of his anger, in that moment, was directed at their dad. At the pain he'd caused everyone. The pain he continued to cause, even after his death.

Leaving accidental children all over the damn state. And leaving all of them to deal with the consequences.

The only consolation was that their mother hadn't known.

Which couldn't be said for Nicole or Jim's mothers. Who had obviously known all too well, at least at some point, that the man they'd had their children with had feet of clay.

Of course, the momentary stab of sympathy didn't mean he didn't think Davis was an ass.

“What is it you want?” Cole asked.

“What does she want?” he asked, gesturing toward Nicole. “More importantly, what is she getting?”

“She,” Nicole said, “doesn't want anything. I was looking for family. I found the family I have left. What I'm going to do with it . . . I don't know yet. But I didn't come storming in here demanding answers either.”

“I didn't read this section in the abandoned secret family handbook,” Davis said.

“Maybe you should have,” Nicole countered.

“Some people read. Some people act. Anyway, just thought I'd drop by and let you all know I existed,” Davis said. Then he turned his focus to Amber, and Cade just about got violent. “If you changed your mind about selling, I'm here. Maybe my interest makes a little more sense now. Seeing as this place holds my family legacy and all.”

“I'm still not interested,” Amber said. “The ranch is Cade's. I don't need any other boneheaded cowboys on my land.”

“Suit yourself.” Davis turned and tipped his hat, then walked back out the door.

And he left them all standing there, on the edge of a fistfight that was apparently not going to happen. At least not today. That was disappointing. At least when Cade'd had occasion to punch Quinn in the face he'd gotten the opportunity.