Undeniable (23 page)

When she’d finally passed her driving test, only to broadside one of Brad Coleman’s loose cows on her drive home, planting their mother’s Cadillac face down in a ditch. Dax had been the one to rescue her, winching her out of the ditch and the dead cow into the bed of his truck because their father couldn’t be pulled away from his Glenlivet.

Sidestepping the grease and the meat, Dax made his way to where Darcy sat hunched over, making herself small and unimportant. He squatted down, wrapped his arms around her. She didn’t even hesitate, but looped hers around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

They stayed like that until his shirt was soaked and she was all cried out, until his thighs burned from the strain of not moving and being there for her. Until loud boot steps clomped across the porch and the screen door opened again and Dax looked up.

Boone came in first, Casper right behind, both frowning at
finding their supper on the floor. “What the hell, Campbell?” Casper circled the table. “This a joke? Or you trying to get out of KP duty?”

Dax waved toward the door. “Holler for Bing and Bob. They can eat it. I’ll start over.”

“Jesus, Dax. You can’t let the dogs clean the floor.” Darcy straightened, wiped her hands down her face, and got to her feet.

Shaking his head, he stood and pushed her back down. “They can have the meat because the floor hasn’t been swept, much less mopped, since you did it last. I may be a heathen, but we’re way past the five-second rule here, and I’m not about to risk whatever’s been living in the filth moving in and calling me home.”

She gave a careless shrug, knuckled away the dampness that had her eyes red and bleary. “You’re disgusting.”

“Thank you.”

“I should probably go.”

This time when she got up he let her, but told her, “You should probably stay.”

“I can’t,” she said, her smile small and weak. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

He pressed his lips tight, ground his jaw, keeping in the words pushing against his tongue. This wasn’t the time or the place, and his sister was in no condition to hear that she was wasting her time. That their father, if he didn’t die, would never change.

He walked her to the door, tugging her out of the way as the border collies raced in to feast, then followed her onto the porch. “And you know where I’ll be if you need me.”

“Yeah. That’s the part that makes me sad,” she said, turning and leaving him there to soak up the guilt that rained down while wishing for water to wash it away.

H
ALFWAY TO TOWN
, Darcy pulled off the county highway onto the road’s rocky shoulder and shifted into park. She had no idea where she was going. She didn’t know what to do. She was running on empty, numb, frozen. Paralyzed with indecision.

Since The Campbell’s collapse, the hospital had been her entire world, but she couldn’t face the beeps and chirps and squeaks of rubber-soled shoes on the tile floor when the sound she most wanted to hear, The Campbell’s voice, had been silenced.

Being stuck with the smells when she breathed in was bad enough. Her clothes, her skin. Her hair. She reeked of harsh antiseptic, of waxy pine. Of the soap dispensed in the ER restrooms and of the building’s stale air.

Her hands were dry, her nails ragged, her cuticles in desperate need of her manicurist’s attention. Or they would’ve been if she
could’ve made herself care about anything but The Campbell’s condition.

Stupidly, she’d expected Dax to jump behind the wheel, drive her back to the hospital, and stay at her side, making everything better just by being there. And the reason that was stupid was because Dax hadn’t been there for her in years.

Sure, he’d let her cry on his shoulder, even after she’d left a big red palm print on his face, but she was on her own. Grown-up Dax wasn’t the brother she’d counted on to pick up the pieces every time she shattered.

And why was it taking her until now to realize she was as dysfunctional as the rest of her family by putting herself in that position again and again? She was worth more. She deserved better. And yet her behavior was ingrained.

She didn’t know how to stop trying to build the family she wanted out of the one she had.

She picked up her phone from the seat beside her, pulled up the contact list, and stared at the only other number she could think of to dial. It rang twice, and when her call was answered, she said, “I just saw Dax.”

“And?” Josh asked.

She swallowed, humiliated. “I don’t know where to go.”

“You okay to drive? Do I need to come get you?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Meet me at the store.”

“Okay.” She disconnected, put the car back in gear, ignored the stabbing guilt that insisted she go to the hospital instead.

The trip took another twenty-five minutes, and she didn’t think of anything but seeing Josh, her touchstone, her anchor, her port in this storm nothing in her experience had prepared her for. Josh, who’d kept vigil with
her. Josh, who’d told her he wanted to see her. Josh, who’d become so much more to her than a pair of long legs in Wrangler jeans.

And what was she to him except a woman who couldn’t find her footing? She hated the thought of being a burden, yet here she was again, turning to him when she couldn’t find her way. How sad was it that this was her life?

The back door was open when she arrived at the Laskos’ store, Josh propping a shoulder against the frame, his hands in his pockets, his ankles crossed, one boot toe down on the flashing. She met his gaze, held it as she turned off the car, as she got out and climbed the steps, brushing past him on her way through.

She carried his warmth with her as, stomach tumbling, she walked into the office where he’d brewed her a cup of coffee and dispelled every misconception she’d had about who he was. He came in behind her, let the back door slam and latch, the space growing tiny and close. Intimate.

Without a word, he placed his hand in the small of her back, guiding her out of the office and into the rear of the store. She kept her head down, a hand raised to hide her face. It was a weak attempt at keeping from being recognized. She wasn’t up for small talk, not even to answer questions about The Campbell’s condition. Not today.

As if sensing her unease, Josh blocked her body with his, ushering her through a second door. This one led into a warehouse running the length of the structure and housing the store’s bulk supplies. A staircase in the front corner took her into the building’s attic, and she was all too aware of Josh behind her as she climbed.

Except it wasn’t an attic. At least not one similar to the unfinished space above the ranch house, where Tess and Dave Dalton had stored a lifetime of memories in boxes and trunks and crates.
Or of the sort at the mansion on the hill, where her parents put extra furnishings they couldn’t be bothered to get rid of.

No, this attic was a loft apartment and had Josh’s stamp all over it. Open ductwork and support beams ran the length of the gabled ceiling. The floor was hardwood, the walls barn red with tongue-and-groove slats.

A freestanding divider, no more than six feet high, separated the largest part of the living space from what she assumed were the sleeping quarters and the bath. And since it backed up to the kitchen, she imagined it housed the room’s plumbing and wiring and cable.

It was cozy, the furniture outfitted in weathered blues and grays with accents of red and gold. The sofa and recliner were leather, the tables oak, the throw rugs knotted from rags and handmade. She breathed in and smelled what she swore was Murphy Oil Soap, and then she turned and looked at Josh.

“Is this where you live?” Even expecting him to say yes, she had to be certain.

He nodded, pulled his hat from his head, tossed it to the seat of the recliner, and raked his fingers through his flat hair. “Jane got the house when we split. I spend most all my time at the store and didn’t want to rent a place. Seemed like a waste of money. Simpler just to get rid of the garbage up here and build it out.”

His living here would explain why he’d been able to spare his truck for so long. No commute and he could walk anywhere in town. She stepped further into the room, the quiet seducing her, the calm, the shadows. She could curl up in the recliner and sleep for a week. Or she could once she had a shower.

“You can stay here as long as you need to.”

She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms tightly across her middle. “With you?”

“I’ll be here, but I won’t be in your way. You’ll have all the privacy you need.”

And if she didn’t want him to give her privacy? “This is your home. I would be in your way, not the other way around.”

He came closer. She heard his steps, their echo, the brush of denim, and then his hands were on her shoulders, his thumbs clearing her hair from her collar. “You can have the bed. It’s a king. I’ll sleep out here.”

Out here where he wouldn’t fit. “Josh—”

“Darcy, you’re about to go under. If you’re not going to take care of yourself, I’m going to do it for you.”

She wanted to argue. She wanted to stand strong. But more than either of those, she wanted to collapse and let him do exactly what he was threatening to do. “A couple of days. That’s it. And I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He pulled her against him. Or he stepped into her. She wasn’t sure which. All she knew was that he’d lowered his head and his lips were against her neck and her whole body shivered and tightened and came alive.

He slid his hands from her shoulders down her arms, to her elbows, to her wrists, holding her there, immobile, his mouth at her jaw, at her ear, her hairline. He was warm at her back, solid and strong, his erection thick against her hip.

She wanted to turn into him, to touch him, to learn his jaw and his ear, the scruff of his beard, the scent of him in the hollow of his throat, but he wouldn’t let her go. He kept her there, made her wait, made her want, her skin electric, her blood hot. Desire pooled deep in her belly, dripped lower, her panties growing damp.

“Josh,” she whispered, the single word, his name encompassing all the things she didn’t know how to say.

“I know,” he said, his voice low and close to her ear and rattling her further. “But this doesn’t change anything. You sleep in the bed. I sleep on the couch.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, looking over her shoulder and into his eyes. She wanted him here and now and thought she just might break.

He reached up, brushed tangled strands of windblown hair from her face, and his voice when he spoke was as thick with longing as his words were bold. “I’m not going to rush the very sweet pleasure of loving you.”

A
RWEN WAS SITTING
in a back corner booth near the bar when Dax found her, sliding onto the bench opposite and looking like hell. It was late, coming up on closing. She had all but the last hour of the day’s receipts in front of her, and her laptop networked to her office accounting files, but something in his expression—impatience or annoyance or a guilty hurt—told her she was done for the night.

He said nothing, just dropped his head against the banquette and stared at her, waiting. It was obvious he had something on his mind. Equally obvious, she was going to have to worm it out of him. She stacked the few slips of paper still needing her attention on the keyboard and closed them inside of the laptop. The rest she paper-clipped together and set on top.

Signaling Luck Summerlin at the bar for two draft beers, she pushed aside the computer then crossed her arms over her chest to wait for Dax to give her an opening. Until his drink arrived, however, he did nothing but pull off his hat, drop it to the seat beside him, and shove his hands through his hair. Then he lifted the frosted mug and downed half of the contents, returning it to the table and spreading his arms along the back of the banquette.

“Thought you had an office,” he said, his jaw tight, his mouth in a strange sarcastic twist.

Her first instinct was to call him on it. Her second was to pay no attention because that’s what he wanted her to do. He was itching for a confrontation, a way to blow off steam since they were in public, in
her
public, and sex was out of the question.

“I do,” she said, tamping down her curiosity. “But I’m in there a lot, so when things are winding down and it’s quiet enough, I like to work out here. Different sounds. Different scenery.”

He glanced around, rolled his head on his shoulders and cracked his neck, then returned his attention to her when it seemed what he wanted to do was climb the walls. “I remember Buck Akers doing the same thing. The boys and I would play pool and make as much noise as we could, trying to distract him.”

Not surprising. “Did it work?”

“Who knows? We were drunk.”

“You weren’t of legal drinking age when you lived here.”

“And that was going to stop us?”

She cocked her head. “Why do you refer to everything in your past in the plural?”

He came back to her immediately, as if the answer was so easy it required no thought. “Because my life was a plural. Me and Casper and Boone. All for one, one for all.”

Except it wasn’t. Not exactly. “But you left on your own. And they left on theirs. Best I recall, you three didn’t even hook up until freshman year when the Jaynes moved to town.”

He shrugged away her observation. “Boone and I were friends before that.”

“So Casper’s to blame for all the trouble the Dalton Gang caused?”

He pushed the coaster beneath his mug forward, pulled it back. “He is a reckless son of a bitch.”

“Still?”

“Well, he’s not riding bulls any longer, but he has no fear.”

“Faith said the same thing.”

Dax snorted. “Better not let Boone know his sister’s got the boy on her mind.”

“Why’s that?”

“We don’t do sisters. It’s part of the code.”

That had her biting down on a laugh. “The Dalton Gang has a code?”

“Just like any notorious brotherhood.”

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes, but only just. “Speaking of sisters, how’s Darcy doing? With your dad and all?”

His pulse at his temple jumping, Dax reached for his beer, and his mask that had only begun to crack fused. Ah, yes. The reason he was here, the one he needed to talk about but didn’t want to talk about and wouldn’t talk about until she forced the issue as he knew she would do.