Unforgettable (The Dalton Gang #3) (11 page)

“It’s not bothering me. Okay. It is bothering me. But that’s because I’m lousy at sharing.”

That made her laugh. “You are a funny man, Boone Mitchell. How, exactly, have we been sharing anything with my ex?”

“We haven’t been,” he said, lechery tugging at his mouth. “But I’m just caveman enough to want to have been your first.”

She wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she stayed silent. But she couldn’t help thinking they weren’t on the same page at all, and didn’t know why she’d assumed otherwise. She’d been a long time without a man. And she hadn’t gone into this affair with much thought.

But that’s all it was. An affair. Purely sexual. She knew that. He needed to know that. But she also wanted to understand why his wishing he was her first had sent such a strange jolt of longing through her uninvolved heart.

“So,
now
are we done here?” he asked, and she nodded, adding a “Sure” that didn’t sound very sure at all.

She scooted her chair back, but before she got all the way out of it, Boone was there to help her. She didn’t need his help. She was perfectly capable of getting up from her seat on her own. But she liked having him there behind her, liked his hand at her back, his manners. The Coach and Mrs. Mitchell had done a good job with this one. And, she imagined, the influence of the Daltons had a lot to do with the man Boone had become.

If she’d had any interest at all in a relationship, she could see herself falling for Boone. It would be an easy trip to make, and a short one, at that. But she knew what she wanted, so having this conversation with herself was totally unnecessary. And the brush of Boone’s hip against hers meant nothing.

As they left the restaurant and started across the parking lot, Everly looked up to see Darcy and Josh Lasko headed their way, and welcomed the distraction. Boone guided her toward them, his steps and hers slowing.

“Hey you two,” Darcy said, giving them each a kiss on the cheek.

“Darcy.” Boone returned her kiss, held out his hand for her husband. “Josh.”

“Good to see the both of you.” Finished with Boone, Josh gave Everly a hug even though she’d extended her hand for him to shake. “Food tonight as good as always?”

“It was, yes,” Everly said. “I tried to save room for dessert, but only made it through half my steak before I had to stop.”

Boone held up the white paper bag he carried. “And because of that, I get to have steak with my eggs for breakfast.”

Darcy leaned against her husband and smiled. “I had no idea how late it was until Josh asked if I planned to stop working to eat. Then I realized I was starving. And he was nice enough to suggest a night out.”

“How’re you liking lawyering for yourself?” Boone asked.

“I’m liking it a lot. A whole lot. I’m able to keep my caseload to a manageable level—”

“Don’t believe her,” Josh cut in to say.

Darcy hooked her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “He’s only saying that because he never saw what I went through working for The Campbell.”

Everly smiled. She didn’t know another couple in all of Crow Hill who fit together as perfectly as these two. “Sounds like things worked out beautifully for both of you.”

“They did that,” Josh replied, covering Darcy’s hand with his. “They did that.”

“Listen,” Darcy said, turning to Boone to ask, “did Dax ever say anything to you about Nora Stokes being interested in some of Tess’s old furniture?”

Boone gave it some thought. “He mentioned you saying you were pretty sure we had some valuable pieces. I don’t recall him bringing Nora into it.”

“Typical Dax. I told him months ago. I’m kinda surprised Nora hasn’t brought it up again. She said the old buffet in the living room could be worth a couple thousand dollars, and the sideboard in the kitchen even more.”

“Thousand? As in . . . thousand?”

“As in several thousand,” she said to Boone, turning to Everly to explain. “When I was staying at the house during the summer, I started going through the Daltons’ things. Dax didn’t want to talk about selling any of it. But that was then,” she said and looked back to Boone. “Right after y’all had lost them. Maybe now you three might want to listen to what she has to say?”

“Yeah. I’ll give her a call. Thanks for mentioning it.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Darcy said, stopping again after she and Josh had started moving toward the door. “I think I saw Les Upton’s wrecker parked out front on the shoulder when we pulled in.”

“Shit. All right. Thanks.”

“You’ll give me a call if you need a restraining order?” she asked, her concern snagging Everly’s attention.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

“Okay, but let me know if I can help.”

“Thanks, Darcy,” he said, then looked at Josh. “You two enjoy your supper.”

Everly waited for an explanation, but when Boone said nothing, she pushed to get one. “Who’s Les Upton?”

“A blast from my past,” he said with a snort.

So he
had
been involved in some sort of scandal. One Darcy thought might require a restraining order all these years later. Interesting. “Someone you went to school with?”

“I went to school with his daughter,” he said, his hand low on her hip guiding her toward her car.

“Went to school with . . . and went to bed with?” Because having known the man’s daughter in school wouldn’t be reason enough for behavior Darcy thought legally worrisome.

“It was a long time ago. I went to bed with a lot of girls.”

But there was more to the story of this particular one. “Boone?”

He was busy scanning the road in front of the restaurant. “I don’t see him, but I’m going to follow you home just to be sure.”

“Wait a minute,” she said, pulling away from his hand, her heart suddenly pounding. “To be sure of what? That I make it without getting run off the road?”

“No. Nothing like that.” But he still wasn’t looking at her.

She grabbed for his arm and made him. “Is he dangerous?”

He reached up, ran a thumb over one eyebrow. “He’s a nuisance is all.”

“Then why are you going to follow me home?”

“I want to make sure you get there safely.”

“Safely? Dammit, Boone,” she said, her heart having moved into her throat to choke her. “What’s going on? What have you gotten me into?”

“I haven’t gotten you into anything,” he said, biting off a curse as he looked down at her. “Upton’s been pissed at me for sixteen years. I’ve been wondering how long it would take him to crawl out of the woodwork and into my face.”

“You think he might follow me to get back at you?”

“I doubt it.”

“But if he does? Then what? Do I need a . . . gun?” She was not going to be a victim again. Not Toby’s directly. Not Boone’s secondhand.

“No, Everly. You don’t need a gun,” he said, opening her SUV’s door. “Just wait for me before you leave.”

“Fine,” she said, sliding into her seat and reaching for her door to shut it, but Boone held on, waiting for her to look up. “What?”

“Don’t be mad.”

Mad? He thought she was mad? Try furious. Also try scared to death. And then try furious again. “I just want to go home.”

He waited a long several seconds before asking, “Alone?”

She’d been looking forward to another night with him in her bed. But now . . . “That’s probably for the best.”

He glanced away, muttered a low, “Shit,” under his breath, the word less about his not getting laid than the reasons for it.

Whipping off his hat, he stepped into the V of her open door. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Les isn’t dangerous. He might want to scare you because it’s a way to get to me, and I’m sorry for that. And I’ll do everything I can to keep him from having the chance. But he’s not a threat.”

“Then why did Darcy mention a restraining order?”

“That’s just Darcy being Darcy.”

“I’m not sure that’s good enough.”

“It’s all I can do.”

“You could’ve mentioned this before now. I don’t like stepping into someone else’s shit pile because I don’t know it’s there.”

“We just talked about this the other day. Everyone’s got unknowns in their past. Even you, I reckon.”

“Not any that might cause trouble for you,” she said, though she wondered if Toby had really given up trying to ruin her life.

Boone dropped his gaze to his hat where he worried his way around the brim. “The boys and I raised a lot of hell in the past. None of that’s a secret, and seeing as how you hang with my sister and Arwen, I’m pretty sure you were aware of what you were getting into when you asked me to stay for dessert.”

She was beginning to wonder if that hadn’t been a horrible mistake. Was this her lot in life? Being attracted to men who meant trouble? Even, in Boone’s case, inadvertently? And if that was the truth, what did it say about her? “I didn’t know I’d be getting into this.”

“You haven’t gotten into anything. And there’s no reason to think you will.”

“That’s why you’re following me home? For no reason?”

“Can we talk about this when we get there? And just go?”

She was shaking her head before she even realized she was going to say no. “I don’t think so. If you want to follow me, that’s fine, but we’re done talking for tonight.”

“Everly—”

“Later, Boone. I just want to go.” Avoiding his gaze, she took hold of her door, leaving him no choice but to get out of her way. He helped her shut it, then circled the rear of the SUV on his way to his truck parked on her passenger side.

She turned her key and backed out of her spot, waiting to pull out of the parking lot as he’d asked. She wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to rush home ahead of him just to prove she didn’t need his protection when she very well might.

And that was the problem here. She’d come to Crow Hill to get away from a man with a violent nature. Why in the world would she get involved with one who might bring more of the same into her life?

TWELVE

O
VER THE LAST
two days, Everly had spent way too much time looking over her shoulder. She hated the feeling of being watched, especially when no one was watching her. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Les Upton, or his tow truck anyway, since she’d never met the man and had no idea what he looked like. Neither had she seen hide nor hair of Boone. And she hated that even more because she’d thought he might’ve been keeping an eye on her, making sure she was safe.

He could’ve been there, she supposed, looking out for her, but really, such a thought was ridiculous. He was at the ranch, working as he should be, and she had no call for alarm because Upton wasn’t a threat. Still, she’d wanted Boone to be there. She’d wanted to catch a glimpse of him. His dark eyes, his dark hair, the muscles in his forearms that made her think of thick marine ropes. But her wanting that was not because she might be in danger.

Two days now she’d gone without seeing him, and she missed him more than she should have, and in ways that made no sense in the scheme of a purely sexual relationship. She wanted to hear him laugh, that deep gravelly rumble that tickled her to her core. She wanted to smell his sun-warmed skin. And she wanted to see his eyes soften when he talked about Sundays spent with his family.

And, yes, she enjoyed him in bed, but didn’t need him for sexual pleasure, though the orgasms he gave her were so much more fun than the ones she gave herself. There was something about the hair on a man’s body, the scrape of it against her skin, and his weight as he pressed her down and possessed her.

Obviously, however, she must need him for something, or her heart wouldn’t have thumped in her chest like a kick drum when, realizing she was no longer alone, she looked up to see him—and not Whitey—blocking her office door.

His shoulders filled the open space from side to side, his hat brushed the frame when he ducked and stepped through. His hips were stout, his thighs thick, his legs long. The heels of his boots were worn, but still gave him two extra inches of height. He was imposing, a broad, towering figure and impossible to ignore—not to mention impossible to miss.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, pushing up out of her chair and pulling him all the way into her office before Whitey got wind of his presence, though that ship had no doubt already sailed.

She shut the door behind him, then closed the blinds on her window that faced the newsroom. She couldn’t have her boss knowing she and Boone were involved. Not when she was supposed to be writing what amounted to an exposé on the man. Though considering the circulation numbers of the
Crow Hill Reporter
, the extra hint of scandal provided by news of their affair might actually be good for sales.

“I was in town,” he said, moving out of her way as she pushed by to shutter the blinds facing the sidewalk on Main Street. “Thought I’d see if I could buy you lunch.”

She peeked between two of the slats but didn’t see anyone taking undo notice of her office or her visitor. Or of Boone’s truck—sporting a capital
D
hooked over a capital
T
that was the Dalton ranch brand—parked out front. “As much as I would love to, it’s probably best if we don’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re the subject of a story,” she said, finally turning to him and crossing her arms. “I can’t be fraternizing.”

The roll of Boone’s eyes said she was two days too late. “That shit may fly in Austin, but not here. No one’s going to care what we do together as long as they get to read about the sins of my past.”

He was right, of course. So why was she hesitating when she was so glad to see him, and actually very hungry? “I don’t know—”

“Tell you what,” he said, his arms crossed, too. “Ask me some questions while we eat. I’ll see if I can’t come up with some juice for your story to make it worth your time.”

“And my money?” she asked, because lunch with a story subject in the middle of the day would get back to Whitey, and if she didn’t turn it in as an expense . . .

He nodded. “Hellcat Saloon okay? Or are we keeping this on the down low?”

“The interview, or the . . . involvement?”

“
I
was talking about the first,” he said, opening her door and tugging down the brim of his hat as he ushered her out. “But I’m thinking
we
need to talk about the second.”

“That might be a good idea.” Considering how much of the talking they’d done together so far had been words not fit for print. “And we need to talk about Les Upton, too.”

“Hold on,” he said, reaching for her arm and pulling her to a stop before she’d taken more than two steps into the newsroom. “Has he been harassing you?”

“I haven’t seen him, no,” she said, raking back the hair falling into her eyes, giving up on hiding his visit. “Or I haven’t seen his wrecker, since that’s the only way I’d recognize him.”

Boone gave a jerk of his head toward her desk. “You can access the paper’s archives on your machine, yes?”

She looked from his face to her surprisingly sophisticated monitor where, in a window hidden behind that of another program, she’d already done some looking into his past. What she hadn’t done was decide how fair and balanced her story would be after so thoroughly invading his privacy. “Yes, of course, why?”

“C’mon,” he said, motioning her back inside. “Sixteen years ago. The dirt’s all there, and a photo. He’ll have aged, but I imagine Google can give you a newer one.”

“Boone, it doesn’t matter—”

“It does matter. It matters to me. I want you to know what he looks like. He won’t always be driving his wrecker.” He was insisting, even though the other man wasn’t supposed to be a problem.

“Fine,” she said, tossing her bag to the bench next to the door and returning to her chair. “You know, I’ve lived here four years and haven’t even heard of Les Upton. The only mechanic I know is Skeet Bandy.”

“Upton’s garage is closer to Luling. Or it was last I knew. I haven’t had call to head up that way since moving back.”

Interesting that he wasn’t worried for his own safety. Only hers. “I thought the advice was to keep your enemies closer than friends.”

“I don’t think of him as an enemy. I don’t think of him at all.”

“He obviously still thinks about you. And Darcy considers him enough of one to ask about a restraining order.”

He stood there, his hands now at his hips, his gaze boring into hers. “Upton is my business. Not Darcy’s.”

“And not mine.”

“Criminy,” he muttered, and pulled off his hat. “I would’ve told you the whole story eventually. I just didn’t think you needed to hear it yet.”

“Why not?”

“I was a teenager and it was ugly, and I don’t want you using it to judge me now.” He worried his hat brim, frowning, shaking his head as if arguing with himself. “But since Darcy put it out there, I’d rather you hear it from me and not someone you interview who might twist it up.”

“Except I’m not hearing it from you,” she reminded him.

He gestured toward her screen with his hat before settling it back in place. “Just read it. We’ll talk about it over lunch.”

“Are you going to wait? While I do?”

He nodded. “Then I’m going to drive you to the saloon. I don’t want to be sitting there and not have you show.”

Because after she finished reading, she might change her mind about lunch. That’s what he was saying. And that’s what made up her mind.

She got to her feet, grabbed her hobo bag from the bench. “Let’s go eat. You tell me what happened. I’ll read the story when I get back.”

“Okay then,” he said, falling into step behind her. “My truck’s out front.”

She said nothing else as they left the building, Boone seeing her into her seat at the curb outside. The ride from the
Reporter
to the saloon took less than five minutes, a typical trip length to anywhere in downtown Crow Hill. Strangely enough, she loved it.

She’d lived her whole life in Austin. Gone to school in Austin. Worked at one of Austin’s television stations. She was a city girl through and through, yet glancing across the cab of the truck, she had no trouble understanding the appeal of living in a home on the range.

And that made no sense at all. She barely knew the man behind the wheel. But the thoughts she was having had little to do with sex and everything to do with who and what he was. Honorable, loyal, industrious, humble. Honest. Above all, honest.

The man Toby had never been.

He glanced her way as he put on his turn signal, caught her taking him in. “What?”

“You know my house isn’t but another two minutes away. We could have lunch there.” She bit at the corner of her lip, holding in the moan tickling the back of her throat. “Maybe dessert.”

He canceled the turn signal and returned his attention to the road, moving his foot to the accelerator from the brake. Two minutes later, and without another word, he was turning onto Pineycreek Avenue, then pulling to a stop in her driveway so hard her shoulder strap popped her against the seat. He shut off the truck, but left the keys in the ignition.

His hat brim was pulled low on his forehead when he looked at her. “I know what we’re doing here, but I want you to tell me anyway.”

Where to start? So many thoughts had been swirling through her head since Monday at the Rainsong Cafe. She didn’t know what to say to him except that she wanted him fiercely. “I like that you want me to know about your past. I like how up-front you are. About everything.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, and seemed genuinely confused. “I’ve got a lot of stuff I could hide, but what’s the point? Especially with you being a reporter and all.”

No. That wasn’t what she’d meant. “You’re honest with everyone. It has nothing to do with me. It’s about you being a good guy. And I like that.”

One wrist draped over the steering wheel, he stared through the windshield, grimacing as if his being good was a myth. “I won’t say I’m not ashamed of things I’ve done. I’ve got more than enough shame. And I’d do over a whole lot of stuff if I could. But since I can’t, facing and dealing with whatever, or whoever, comes my way is all I’ve got.”

“Like Les Upton.”

He turned his head, his gaze piercing, searching, making sure he had her attention before he asked, “You want to talk about Les now? Here?”

Contradictory to what she’d said earlier, she didn’t want to talk about Les at all. But she felt that of all the things Boone had in his past, this was the one that perhaps haunted him most, and because of that, she nodded.

“Okay. Like I told you, I went to school with his daughter.” When she arched a brow, his mouth pulled into a smirk. “And I went to bed with his daughter. Penny. Lots of guys went to bed with Penny. She kinda reminds me of Luck Summerlin in that way, except Luck comes from all kinds of money, and doesn’t put out as much as she teases about doing so.”

“Penny did put out, but didn’t come from money.”

He nodded, reached up and rubbed at his eyes with one hand. “Her mom, Lucinda, she was a stunner. She’d been a cheerleader in high school, good grades, came from a decent family, was pretty popular from what I understand. How she ended up with Les . . .”

“I can probably fill in those blanks,” she said, thinking of her upbringing and the first time she’d met Toby.

“Is it some kind of girl thing?” he asked, frowning as he glanced over.

A thing for some girls, anyway. “Was Les a bad boy? From the wrong side of the tracks, or from an abusive home? Did he drive a hot car and smoke and drink and act like he didn’t give a shit about getting in trouble?”

“Sounds like you’re describing Casper Jayne. Except he had my folks, my family, and then he had the Daltons in his corner. I doubt Les ever had anyone. Except Lucinda.”

“How long did that last? Her being in his corner?”

“Penny was eighteen when her mom split for good, so that long at least. Though I have a feeling the corner thing was over with the first time Les hit her.”

An icy chill rose the hair on Everly’s arms. “Hit his wife? Or his daughter?”

“I know he hit his wife, but I wouldn’t doubt Penny took a few punches over the years. And learned from them.” He shook his head as if reliving a memory and not liking it much. “She knew how to fight back. I saw it happen.”

“When was that?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know.

“The night Les came home and caught me with my dick in his daughter.”

Crude, but she got the point. His relationship with Penny hadn’t been more than sex. “That must’ve been unpleasant.”

“For Lucinda more than anyone,” he said with a snort. “She’d come home first. Stood there in Penny’s open door and watched us fuck.”

“Seriously?” she asked, disbelief like a fist slamming into her.

“Oh, yeah. I about shit a brick when I saw her there.” He barked out a harsh laugh. “Penny told me just to ignore her, and went back to grinding.”

Everly cringed, swallowing hard as she imagined Boone’s panic. “What happened?”

“Nothing. At least not then. Lucinda shook her head, rolled her eyes, and left. And, yeah, I know this because I was watching her until she moved out of the door, wondering what she was going to do. I heard the refrigerator open, heard her pop the top on a beer, heard her pull a chair out from under the table, and flick her cigarette lighter. Smelled the smoke.”