Untouched: 2 (Rough Boys) (8 page)

Despite her tears, she carefully guided her car out of the valley and up the steep hill leading home. She racked her brain for a solution to her problem. Whatever way she added it all up, she didn’t have enough—would never have enough.

She might have to take up her mother on her offer to come live with her in the South. There, she could share expenses. She’d have built-in child care. Perhaps she could continue to pay back Dorsey Forestry from afar.

Eva heaved a big sigh and headed home. Right now, Mason would be on his way to the hospital with the injured man. Accidents were a part of every logger’s life. They worked in a perilous profession and no matter how many safety precautions they took, sometimes they got hurt.

She silently thanked God that Mason hadn’t been the one hurt. Besides having affection for him as a friend and her employer, the intimacy they’d shared last night sent new feelings through her.

Damn, the way he looked at her… She gulped as heat clawed at her insides again. She’d had countless orgasms in the past twenty-four hours. She tried to tell her body she didn’t need more, but it only responded by throbbing.

She’d taken a chance by coming to the jobsite to find Mason. Relief had flooded her when he didn’t turn her away. She’d been scared witless he’d do just that—tell her thanks, but he’d had his fill. Instead, he’d crossed the clearing and scooped her up, kissing her as if she’d never left his bed.

She smiled to herself and tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. While she had no clue what was really going on between her and Mason, she wasn’t going to turn away the one man she’d ever hungered for this way.

Once she reached her house, she sat staring at the rundown façade for long minutes. Her chest burned with tears. There was so much her son needed and she couldn’t provide.

Milk, for one. She’d been using the leftover cream Mason had purchased for the tartlets, watering it down for her son. And Christmas was quickly approaching. She’d been lucky enough to buy a secondhand bicycle for Brady from a yard sale. She’d had it hidden since summer. It had a couple dings, but he wouldn’t mind.

She wished she could have a real Christmas for him—one like she and Bill had given him before she discovered her husband’s treachery. After that, things had quickly gone downhill. Finally he’d gone into the woods to hunt and not returned.

The coroner had ruled his death a hunting accident but he’d told her on the side that the angle of the shot looked deliberate. Either way, Bill didn’t carry life insurance.

She dropped her face into her hands and drew deep breaths, trying to dispel the fury in her heart.

There was no choice but to keep running toward her goal. Maybe a shift would open up at the diner and she could pick up some extra cash. And next year, her son would be in school all day, which meant she would no longer be burdened by the babysitter’s fee.

One more year.

She got out of the car and went inside the house. Cleaning and doing laundry filled her time until Brady came home. When it came down to it, her son was her universe. She’d do anything to help him grow up to become the man his father wasn’t.

Thinking about Brady as an adult, she pictured him not as a younger version of Bill, but of Mason Dorsey.

Mason was everything a man should be—strong, rugged and a hard worker. After spending the night in his arms, she knew he was so much more. Passionate and a little rough, endearing, as well as funny and playful.

She shot a glance at the clock. He’d said he’d call, but he wasn’t going to reach her now that her phone was out of commission. Maybe she could get it turned on after she got paid.

The tears fell without warning, a sob rushing up and out. The floodgates had been opened and without her son at home, there was no reason for Eva to hold back. She sank to the kitchen chair and dropped her face into her hands. Tears dripped between her fingers. Her hoarse cries filled the small kitchen.

What if Mason did want a relationship? She couldn’t continue to hide the secret swapping of funds from him. It wasn’t right. In fact, it had eaten at her off and on all night long. A couple times it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell him. Fear had kept her lips sealed—fear of being turned away. Of being blamed for her husband’s stupidity.

After long minutes, she gained control. Exhaustion claimed her. Mason had kept her up all night, loving her. Today she felt the effects of his attentions. Her body was sore in places she hadn’t remembered existed. And she could still taste his musky flavor on her tongue.

There was no time for a nap now. She had to go pick up Brady at her friend’s house.

In the bathroom, she splashed water on her face and brought her hair to order. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks too flushed, but she didn’t bother using makeup.

She went out to her car again and headed south out of town. Past the small market and the single gas station that still offered full service. Salzburg Springs hadn’t changed in decades. Most of the people hadn’t either. People like Abby from high school or the woman who waitressed at the diner. Their personalities were set and they never deviated from the paths they’d worn for themselves.

Eva wanted more though. She wanted to get out of her financial rut and start living. Leaving her worries behind seemed to be the only way. She couldn’t even get over Bill while she was still paying off his damn debt. How could she forgive him when she lived with his mess day after day?

The best thing to happen to her in ages was Mason Dorsey. What had spurred him to make a move last night? She’d spent more time on her appearance, even unearthing that leopard miniskirt from her high school days. Surprised she could still wriggle into it, she’d been a little nervous to enter the party. But Mason’s eyes had lit up as if she were the most glorious creature on earth.

He’d made her feel that way many times in the past day.

When Eva picked up Brady from her friend’s house and had strapped him into the backseat, the first thing he asked for was a cup of milk.

“Not that yucky milk, Mom. Good milk with the red lid.”

Anxiety speared her chest. Fuck, what now? The kid deserved some decent milk, not watered-down cream. But she still only had fifty cents to her name. Could she possibly run by the ATM and take out a few of the dollars she’d put into the Dorsey account to cover a trip to the market?

Flipping on her turn signal, she switched lanes to go to the bank. A horn blast made her look up, only to see Mason’s big silver truck. He threw her a wave and a grin that, even across fifty yards and through two thick windshields, melted her heart.

Heat sank low in her belly.

Her son was talking to her. About what? She listened with half an ear to a story about what he’d done with his friend but her mind was racing. God, she wanted nothing more than to follow that man to his house, step into his arms and confess everything. The burden was bending her, bowing her beneath the extreme weight.

“Mom, I’m thirrrrsty.”

Irritation prickled but she clamped down on it. She was
not
going to snap at Brady because of the crises in her life. It wasn’t his fault and she was going to own her problems.

“All right, buddy. We’ll run through the ATM, and then go to the store for some milk.”

“With the red lid.”

“With the red lid,” she repeated. She waved at Mason and turned, speeding away, praying he didn’t follow. Because she was going to the bank to remove funds from the Dorsey account for the second time in two days.

There had to be a solution, but for the life of her, she couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

“Hunter’s breakfast!” The waitress slid Mason’s platter before him. The scents of sausage, pancakes and eggs wafted to him and his stomach clenched in renewed hunger. Since leaving the house this morning, he’d felled about twenty trees and spent an afternoon visiting his injured employee.

“That’s your second breakfast today, Dorsey.” The waitress, Karen, smiled at him across the worn laminate counter. The interior of the diner hadn’t changed since Mason was a kid. He remembered elbowing up here with his dad and a logger on the other side of him, listening to them talk trees while hammering stacks of pancakes. The pea-green interior somehow added to the place’s charm.

He picked up his fork, tines down. “It sure is. A man sometimes finds himself in need of two breakfasts.” Especially when he’d gone all weekend without even speaking to the woman he’d slept with Friday night. Monday morning couldn’t have come fast enough, but he’d been out in the woods before he’d gotten a chance to set eyes on Eva.

“Rough day?” Whit Hammond hitched himself onto the stool beside Mason, cradling his steaming coffee mug.

A grin spread over Mason’s face at the sight of one of his oldest friends. He and Whit had grown up running the surrounding woods and farms, hunting, fishing and later fighting over girls.

“Little bit rough, yeah.” Mason drew a sip of coffee into his mouth and savored the brew. “Had a man to the ER Saturday.”

“Bad?”

“Just stitches. Could have been much worse.” He forked up a piece of sausage and popped it into his mouth.

“You’ve had a good run so far, Dorsey. No injuries in the year you’ve been operating the old man’s business? Count yourself lucky.”

“Believe me, I do.” He let his mind wander to his luck the past few days. Having Eva in his bed had been consuming his every thought. But he seriously had to think about his future here. Did he want to stick around or unload the forestry business, which was his original plan? He couldn’t help but feel as though he were a kid trying to fill his dad’s shoes and they simply would never fit. Dorsey Forestry was his father’s life. Never Mason’s.

“What else is new over there at the Dorsey place?” Whit’s question sent off alarm bells in Mason’s brain. He’d heard that cajoling tone more than once in his youth. The last time was associated with one particular cheerleader, if he recalled correctly.

Mason swallowed his food and looked at his friend hard. “What’s on your mind, Whit?”

“Well…” Whit set his mug down and twiddled with a napkin, twisting it. “I heard there was a party for old Osborn. And that you were there.”

Mason raised a brow.

He continued. “Rumor is you left pretty quickly with a beautiful woman.”

Irritation prickled Mason. Eva was breathtaking—more gorgeous than any of the women he’d ever been with. But he didn’t want Whit to acknowledge that beauty.

He set down his fork and leaned away to pierce Whit in his gaze. “Took the town long enough to spread that story.”

Whit grinned. “When it’s a good one, it travels faster than a log truck on a back road. So what happened, Dorsey?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He picked up his fork and started eating again, though his stomach was no longer eager.

“You don’t want to discuss the little Italian bombshell that left the party with you?”

Mason gave him a warning look. “No.”

Whit took a swig of coffee. “Well, I appreciate a man who doesn’t kiss and tell. And if I had a chance at Eva Frank I wouldn’t want to share the details either.”

Mason’s ears perked up. “What do you know about her? About Bill, I mean. I remember him in high school. They were always together. What happened to him?”

Whit lowered his voice and leaned in. “A gunshot wound took him out.”

“Hunting accident?”

His friend wagged his head. “Some say it was. But I’ve heard differently.”

A spike of dread hit Mason’s stomach. “Heard what?”

Whit pitched his voice to a murmur. “I’ve heard that it was a suicide.”

Mason mentally searched his stores of knowledge and even the encounters with Eva. Had she ever said anything to indicate her husband had killed himself?

“Was he a drinker?” Many men in the area turned to alcohol. More than one of the guys Mason knew from high school spent their days and nights glued to a barstool, hugging a whiskey glass. Had Eva been forced to live with that day in and out? The thought speared him to the core. A protective growl rose in his throat and he bit down on it.

“Nah. Not Bill. He was a hard worker, but toward the end, he got a bit shifty.”

“How do you mean? Was he cheating on Eva?”

Whit gave him a long, level look.

“I don’t really know what was going on with Bill Frank. He stopped talking to people and started staying home more. Then one day I heard he’d been found dead.”

Mason pushed his plate away, unable to pretend he was hungry anymore. “And what of her security? Had he provided for her?”

Whit made a noise in his chest. “Mason, look at where she’s living. Her house is in disrepair and her car is worse. No, I don’t believe Bill did anything to ensure she and his child were cared for after he was gone. Whatever money she got, she probably spent to bury him.”

Mason’s chest burned with emotion. Fury and desperation mingled with a tenderness he didn’t want to contemplate yet. He didn’t like hearing that. No, he did not.

In the year he’d been in Salzburg Springs, he’d never had the opportunity to drive past Eva’s house. He pictured a falling-in roof and sagging porch, a wood burner belching black smoke into the sky.