[English] THE CLOSER YOU COME (Gần bên anh)

The Closer You Come
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He did, and they loved him. “West, go kick everyone out of the house. And if you leave any popcorn crumbs on my sheets, your blood will soon join them. Beck, haul ass to the kitchen and cook your famous morning-after special. I’m starved.”

“On it.” West flew out of the room.

“Can do.” Beck grinned as he passed, even paused to pat Jase on the shoulder. “It’s not morning, but you sure did get screwed, didn’t you.”

CHAPTER THREE

TWO WEEKS AFTER “The Dunking,” the state of Brook Lynn’s life should have improved by leaps and bounds. What was the saying? When you were at the bottom of a pit, you had nowhere to go but up.

Somehow she’d managed to burrow deeper.

After she’d gotten Jessie Kay home from the party, the implants had basically short-circuited, causing massive headaches, uncontrollable dizziness and extreme nausea. She’d had to have them replaced the very next day with a surgery that accumulated thousands of dollars in medical bills. Insurance had refused to pay, citing the devices were still experimental. A ridiculous excuse. But Jase hadn’t yet contacted her to settle their debt—thank God he’d insisted on paying his part—and she desperately needed the money.

The new implants required three days of complete bed rest to heal and attach to her canals properly. Three days without pay. As soon as she’d recovered, Jessie Kay had taken off for who-knew-where, looking for a man to console her after Jase’s rejection. For two days after that, Brook Lynn had been forced to work double shifts.

Jessie Kay had come back, only to take off again and return last night. Now Brook Lynn called her sister’s cell to tell her to keep her butt home and rested for tomorrow, but she went straight to voice mail. Dang it! The girl was off carousing again, wasn’t she?

Argh! Her sister sometimes reminded her of a mouse in a wheel, spinning, spinning, but never going anywhere. Of course, the same could be said of herself, she realized with a sigh, simply in a different way. Jessie Kay chased guys. Brook Lynn chased Jessie Kay.

Perhaps it was time for a change.

Perhaps? Why was that even a question?

As she began cleaning Two Farms for closing, she thought back to the “fun list” she and Kenna had created a few weeks ago. Fun—something neither of them had ever really experienced. The list of activities was supposed to spice up their lives. The plan? Try every flavor of Ben Jerry’s ice cream, text I hid the body to a random number. Be Cinderella for a day, and eat a real Krabby Patty. Get a tattoo, TP someone’s house, solve a case with Sherlock and Watson. Ask out a boy. Throw a drink in someone’s face, gulp blue Gatorade out of a Windex bottle. Jump into a body of water with all of their clothes on. Spy on someone. Oh, and speak with a fake accent for an entire day.

The last was the only thing Brook Lynn had done. Meanwhile, Kenna the overachiever had done everything. Dane had made it his mission to ensure she checked off every item on the list.

Brook Lynn simply hadn’t had time for the others. Or, to be honest, the inclination. But...maybe she needed to start despite her lack of enthusiasm. Just pick something and go, go, go. Like...asking out a boy...even seducing one.

An image of Jase flashed through her mind. What he might have looked like minutes before she’d entered his bedroom. Naked, flat on his back and hard as a rock.

No! Oh, no. Jase? She recoiled...even as she shivered. The man had used and discarded her sister, leaving no doubt he would use and discard Brook Lynn. If he even wanted her. So, ask him out? No. Nope. Never. The guy she picked would give her what she hadn’t had since the death of her mother: security.

A long-term commitment with a nice man with a nice income and the unending patience required to deal with Jessie Kay without sleeping with her, flirting with her or hurting her feelings seemed like just the ticket.

Attainable. Surely.

He had to live in Strawberry Valley, be over twenty but under forty, and he had to have had steady employment for at least a year. He had to be stable, reliable and in no way a fixer-upper. So, of all the eligible men in town, that left...

A few too many, surprisingly enough. To narrow the playing field, she decided he could have zero history with Jessie Kay. Well, well. That left only one name. Brad Lintz, the supersweet owner of Lintz Automotive. He came into Rhinestone Cowgirl every so often to buy a present for his mother, sisters, an aunt, a handful of nieces, whoever happened to have a birthday, and he always said something to make Brook Lynn laugh. Once or twice she’d even suspected he wanted to ask her out.

Brook Lynn...would you do me the honor of...would you, uh...show me that necklace again?

Could she put on her big-girl panties and actually make the first move? She never had before. Part of her had always feared the slightest hint of aggression would lead the man to assume she would settle for as little as Jessie Kay did: a single night of ***ual pleasure. And she wasn’t casting stones. She understood her sister. Despite what everyone thought, *** wasn’t a frivolous, sterile transaction for Jessie Kay. It was a means of finding the acceptance and affection she craved, if only for a short while. A craving that only grew every time she woke up in bed with a guy, expecting more from him, and he made her feel as if she’d committed the cardinal sin of moving too fast. Too fast, after he’d slept with her.

None of the guys heard her crying in her bedroom the next day.

Brook Lynn, too, had often wondered if a moment of comfort would be better than no comfort at all. But then she would remember doing what felt good today often led to regrets tomorrow.

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Of course, on the other end of the spectrum, doing what scared her today often led to happiness tomorrow. So... Yes. For a chance at improving her life and finally having fun, she could put on her big-girl panties.

She would go see her doctor tomorrow after her shift at the RC, get on birth control—just in case—and then go to Brad’s shop. Her stomach began to twist into a thousand tiny knots of nervousness already.

“My office, Brook Lynn.” Her boss’s voice echoed through the empty restaurant, startling her from her thoughts. “Now.”

Mr. Calbert sounded gruffer than usual. Was he going to yell at her for Jessie Kay’s absence or the plates Brook Lynn had broken or the orders she had screwed up—or all three? Yeah, probably that last one. The knots in her stomach tightened. But at least the new implants were doing their job, leveling out the noises around her while allowing her to distinguish certain nuances.

“On my way,” she called. She trudged into the break room to grab her purse from her locker.

Heart hammering, she entered Mr. Calbert’s office. He was in his midfifties with thinning hair, glasses as thick as her wrist and a build that suggested he enjoyed tasting the foods he served.

His office was small, crammed with file cabinets and a desk too big for the space. He was already seated, drumming his nails impatiently. When she eased into the chair across from him, he got straight to the point.

“Your sister was a no-show. Again.”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” When Brook Lynn had seen Jessie Kay this morning, she’d been hunched over a toilet, vomiting her guts out from too much to drink, her mascara running down her bright red cheeks.

You going to be okay for work? Brook Lynn had asked.

I’ll be there. Jeez! I’m not a total slag.

Mr. Calbert shuffled papers around, saying, “Why do you put up with that girl?”

Because Jessie Kay had done whatever was necessary to keep Brook Lynn fed after Uncle Kurt had taken off. Because she’d comforted Brook Lynn when they’d lost everything. Because her sister was all she had left.

“That has no bearing on our conversation,” she said, raising her chin.

“Actually, it has everything to do with our conversation.” He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his forehead in his palms. That did not bode well. “Look. I like you. I do. I think you’re a good girl with bad problems, and that’s what makes this so difficult, but this is a business, and it has to be done.”

Dread slithered through her, a boa with every intention of choking her out. She could guess where this was leading and vehemently shook her head. “Don’t do this, Mr. Calbert. Please. I need the money.”

He lifted his head, his hazel eyes bleak. “I’m sorry, Brook Lynn. I loved your parents. They were nice people, and I respected them, but I can’t rely on you anymore. You’re too tired to work as much as you do, but I can’t cut your hours because you always beg me for more. You break things—”

“I’ll pay for them.”

“—and you get a ton of orders wrong.”

“I apologized to everyone.”

“You put peanuts instead of croutons on Mr. Crawford’s salad, and he had an allergic reaction. I have to pay his medical bill and for his mental anguish!”

“Anyone could have made that mistake.” But okay, all right. Yes, her mind had been zapped by all the extra hours and tasks she’d taken on. “At least now Mr. Crawford knows his EpiPen is working properly,” she tried.

Mr. Calbert shook his head. “I need to be able to rely on my staff.”

“But—”

“I can’t rely on you or your sister. You and Jessie Kay are fired, Brook Lynn. Effective immediately.”

* * *

JASE HAD JUST finished off his third beer of the evening, knowing it wouldn’t be his last. He had seriously dark emotions to drown, and by hell, he was going to drown them. If he failed, he’d get in his car and head into town to see her.

The new bane of his existence, Miss Brook Lynn Dillon. He hadn’t been this obsessed with a woman since Daphne.

Daphne. Yeah. He’d think about her. Unlike Brook Lynn, the thought of her actually mellowed him.

He let his mind drift to the night he and Daphne had met. They’d both been sixteen, and while he’d earned money repairing and washing cars, she’d worked at a fast-food joint. He’d gone in for a burrito and had come out with her phone number. They’d spent the next two years together, inseparable, and had been saving to rent an apartment together.

She’d represented the future. Stability. And unlike most of the foster families he’d lived with, he’d wanted her to stick.

“Want a beer?” Beck asked West.

They were congregated in the game room, their sanctuary. Beck and Jase were playing pool, while West watched. Or, more accurately, thought about something; the guy had been lost in his head for the past half hour.

“No,” West finally replied, and Beck breathed a sigh of relief.

Jase observed the entire exchange with a frown. Beck had been testing West’s resolve to remain sober more and more lately, and he couldn’t figure out why. But then, the two had a history he knew nothing about. So many years’ worth of memories made without him.

He never had a problem convincing himself he was fine with it—until moments like this.

“You aren’t an alcoholic, West,” Jase pointed out.

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“But I am a recovering drug addict,” West said. “Alcohol is my gateway.”

West had gotten high for the first time nine years ago, and he’d stayed high for the next three.

Dark eyes grim...haunted, his friend admitted, “I wasn’t even feeling the temptation...until recently.”

“What changed?” Jase asked.

“What else? The time of year.”

Lightbulb. The oncoming anniversary of Tessa’s death.

Tessa had been West’s first and only girlfriend. The two had met mere days after Jase first encountered West and Beck. She’d lived down the street, and while Jase and Beck had grown to love her like a sister, West...he had grown to love her intimately, desperately. The pair had been halves that depended on each other, rather than wholes that complemented each other, and West had never recovered from her loss.

I’m never going to end up like that.

Brook Lynn’s image drifted through his head, taunting him. He gripped the edge of the table, nearly snapping the wood.

Tessa had dropped out of high school her senior year to waitress full-time and help her mom pay bills. Later, though, she’d passed her GED exam. Her deadbeat mom hadn’t cared enough to celebrate, so West had promised to throw her a party. He’d toked up instead. She’d left the apartment they’d all shared with a sad smile, saying it didn’t matter. But afterward Beck confessed he’d seen her crying as she’d driven away.

That night, she’d crashed her car into a lamppost.

Sweet, beautiful Tessa had died at the age of nineteen.

“I get it. The anniversary of Tessa’s death is three months away,” Jase said. According to some of the tales Beck had told him, West spiraled more and more, drinking, flaking on clients, even picking fights. Soon after, he picked a woman, showered her with affection and gifts and ended things in exactly two months, as if he was willing to give happiness a shot because it was what Tessa would have wanted, but he didn’t feel he deserved more than a taste.

“Yes,” West responded, head bowed, “and I’ll be fine this time. I will. I’m not going to limit what you can do because of a weakness I have.”

“For a smart man, you can be really stupid.” Jase clasped him by the nape and stared him down. “We help each other. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. What makes you think I’d want anything to do with something that bothers you?”

“You’ve lost so much already.”

Yes. More than either man knew. Jase had shared only a few of the atrocities he’d suffered—and committed—during the years of their separation. He could barely stand to think of them. “So have you,” he said. “A scholarship to MIT, and soon after that, Tessa.”

Pain flashed in dark eyes that had already witnessed the worst the world had to offer.

“You’ve been clean six years,” Jase said. “During that time, you’ve created and sold different computer programs and games I won’t pretend to understand, and you’ve made us richer than we ever dreamed by investing the profits for us. Cut yourself some slack.”

“Put that way, I am pretty awesome,” West said, the barest hint of a smile revealed.

“Though only a close second to me,” Beck said, thumping his chest like a gorilla.

The doorbell rang before Jase could pop them both in the back of the head.

Everyone displayed different variations of dread.

“Bet it’s one of Beck’s women, coming to request seconds,” West said.

Beck lined up his shot. “Too bad. The candy store is currently closed.”

West snorted. “If only it stayed closed for maintenance. These women are upsetting my schedule.”

Jase had noticed West’s time-management and schedule-building skills had only gotten sharper over the years, though he’d done his best to relax and pretend he could roll with spontaneity. In reality, he’d always lived by a regime, preferring to have every minute planned.

Another round of ringing echoed from the walls.

“Don’t everyone rush to the door at once,” Jase said.

Beck peered at West. “Do me a solid and get rid of her.”

“Happy to, but you’ll owe me.” West strode from the room.

“Like that’s anything new,” Beck called. The amused vibe vanished in a blink. He tossed Jase a look rife with concern. “He’ll come through this, but it’s going to be hard. I’m glad you’re here. It’s been rough going it alone with him these past few years.”

“Whatever I can do to help, I’ll do.”

“Just keep reminding him that you’re here.” As Jase got in position to drill the eight ball into the far right pocket, Beck switched gears, starting a joke. “So, an angel walked into a den of iniquity.”

The word angel made him think of Brook Lynn again, and certain parts of his body began to ache for contact. Every day since he’d met her, he’d gone into town to give her that bill she was so determined to pay and to reimburse her for the implants he’d ruined.

If he were honest, settling their debt had little to do with his frequent trips.

He’d wanted to talk to her, to find out what it would take to break through all of her stubbornness and prickly anger and make her smile. To prove she wasn’t as beautiful as he remembered...or as soft and warm. But every time he’d seen her, he’d realized she was more beautiful—and probably softer and warmer.

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She worked at a jewelry shop Monday through Saturday, and while there, she wore her pale hair in some kind of intricate knot on top of her head, thick locks at her temples tumbling down to frame her exquisite face and, he was sure, to cover her ears. She usually had a pair of magnifying glasses over her eyes and a small pair of needle-nose pliers in hand. Once, as she had helped a guy with grease stains on his hands and overalls, she had talked with her hands, laughing happily at whatever he’d said to her.

Jase had experienced a wave of anger he hadn’t understood then—and didn’t understand now—and had left before Brook Lynn could spot him.

But he’d gone back again and again.

Most evenings, she worked at Two Farms, and because she was usually the last to leave, she often had to walk to her car alone. Anyone could hide in the shadows, jump out and perform a grab-and-stab. Or worse. And okay, yes, she got points for carrying what looked to be pepper spray, but she lost even more for not paying attention to her surroundings. She was like a Disney princess, practically dancing and singing, “I’m so ready to be disarmed and mugged!”

Did she not realize even small towns had crime?

Case in point: he could be cited for stalking. Hence the multiple beers and his desperation to stay inside the house tonight. He would not risk a legal battle for anyone.

He sank the ball and smirked at Beck. “You going to tell me the rest of the joke?”

“Not a joke. A fact.” His friend motioned to the entrance with a tilt of his chin then wiggled his brows.

Jase looked, and yep, he had to agree. An angel had walked into a den of iniquity. Beside West stood Brook Lynn Dillon.

Hauntingly beautiful. And completely off-limits.

The urge to touch her, to hold her, bombarded him all over again, and he had to grit his teeth against it.

Feel nothing. Want nothing. Need nothing.

“Hey, Brook Lynn,” Beck called. “You’re looking mighty fine today—which can mean only one thing. You came to ask me out. Well, it’s your lucky day, pretty. I accept.”

Jase hit his friend in the arm and muttered, “Don’t flirt with her,” before he could think better of it.

Beck frowned at him. “Who was flirting? I was baring my soul.”

The conversation ceased to matter when he noticed Brook Lynn’s eyes were swollen and red, as if she’d been crying. There was a cut on her bottom lip, as if, in her despair, she’d chewed a little too hard.

He threw down his cue. If someone had hurt her—

His hands fisted at his sides as he closed the distance.

Her gaze landed on him and widened. Gulping, she stepped away from him. “Do you, uh, know where Jessie Kay is?”

Had he scared her?

“No,” he said, careful to moderate his tone. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her.”

Her shoulders slumped with defeat and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a big dose of fatigue. She worked far too much, couldn’t get much more than a few hours of sleep each night. While he admired her fortitude, rarely having seen anyone push themselves so fervently, he knew she couldn’t go on like that forever. Soon she would break down. If she hadn’t already.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “How are your ears?”

Chin trembling, she said, “They’re better. I can hear.” A second later, the trembling stopped, and determination darkened her eyes. Stubborn side engaged. “By the way, I never heard from you, so I didn’t know which of us needed to deduct the money. I just took a guess at how much I owed you.” She stretched out her hand. In her palm rested three crisp one hundred dollar bills.

He jolted back as if she’d just offered nuclear waste, wondering how long she’d had to save for so little. “Hell, no. That’s way too much.” A single penny was too much, he decided. “The lamp was ugly, so you did me a favor. I should probably pay you for getting rid of it. And the nightstand has a crack, nothing more. It’s no big deal.”

Brook Lynn breathed a sigh of relief as she stuffed the money in her purse. “If you’re sure...”

“I am. Now, how much do I owe you for the implants?” he asked.

She shifted from one foot to the other. “They...weren’t cheap.”

“That’s fine.”

“Like, over two thousand dollars not cheap.” She whispered the amount, as if scandalized. “If your furniture cost something similar—”

“No.” He didn’t blink. “I’ll bring the money to Rhinestone Cowgirl tomorrow. The full amount.”

She looked taken aback. “You know where I work? Never mind. Everyone knows. I don’t...I can’t accept so much...I—”

“Just say thank you and save us the trouble of arguing. You won’t win.”

She rubbed at her temples in a clear effort to ward off an oncoming ache. “Thank you.”

Better.

“And now,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “I guess there’s nothing more for us to say.”

He hated himself and his weakness for her, but he wasn’t ready to be parted from her, even though he knew better than to try to hang on to anything. The longer you had it, the more it hurt when it was taken away—and it was always taken away. “I’ll walk you out.”

“No need,” she said, turning on her heels. “I’ll be okay on my own.”

“Okay or not, I’m still walking you out.” He would not be like the double-douches at the restaurant and leave her on her own.

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She’d definitely gotten the implants fixed. Without reading his lips, she had a ready reply. “If your goal is to make sure I make it to my car, feel free to watch me through the window. You do like it when women walk away from you, do you not?” She disappeared through the doorway.

“Poor Jase. Denied and burned at the same time,” Beck said, shaking his head with mock sympathy.

West grinned. “Would you like some aloe vera for your soul, Jason?”

He flipped both of them off, choosing levity over man-pouting, and raced after Brook Lynn.

The moon seemed to have withered into a small hook, its golden glow hidden by clouds. The air was fragrant with the sweet scent of the magnolias, roses and strawberries growing along the edges of the house, turning what should have been a creepy night into a time for lovers. His hands curled into fists.

Brook Lynn stiffened as he came up alongside her, but said nothing to rebuke him.

“Pepper spray,” he said, noticing she carried her weapon, at least. “That’s good.”

“Oh, this isn’t pepper spray.” She held up a tube of hand sanitizer. “I don’t want to hurt people, just germs.”

This is a joke. Has to be. “So if a mugger leaves you bleeding on the street, at least you won’t contract a case of the sniffles. Is that it?”

“A mugger?” She scoffed at him. “Where do you think we are? The city? There hasn’t been a mugging in Strawberry Valley since Wanda Potts decided to role-play with her husband and steal his virtue.”

“I don’t care what’s happened in the past. I want you armed for the future.”

“Hello. I am armed.” She waved the sanitizer in his face. “The world is going to spiral into a zombie apocalypse one day...unless we get proactive and do something. It’s called germ warfare. Look it up. I’m doing my part.”

“That’s not what germ— Never mind. You fear zombies?”

“Fear? No. That’s Kenna. I’m actually looking forward to battling the undead. I plan to collect their heads like trophies.”

Why was that so damn ***y?

Hint: everything about her was ***y. Even the fact that she was clearly a hot mess. He’d never actually met someone who believed zombies were a real possibility.

His legs were longer than hers, his stride faster, so he reached her car first and opened the door for her. She didn’t get in right away, pausing to blink up at him. Confused by the gesture? Did she not expect the men in her life to be nice to her—or did she not expect Jase to be nice?

Either answer would have annoyed him, he was sure, so he didn’t bother asking.

“You’re headed home, right?” Knowing her—and as much time as he’d spent watching her, he was beginning to learn—there was a chance she had a third and fourth job.

“No. I have to find my sister. She and I are due to have a chat.”

Wait. He shifted, blocking Brook Lynn from sliding into the car. “You have no idea where she is. How do you know where to start looking?”

“I feel like you should already know the answer to that,” she said, a little sass to her tone. “Did you or did you not sleep with her?”

He glared, not appreciating the reminder.

“Fine.” She held up her hands, all innocence. “I’ll be starting with the bars.”

“And you’re going to...what? Go inside every one you come across between here and the city?”

He expected her to deny it. Wanted her to deny it. Instead, she softly announced, “Yes. But don’t worry. This won’t be the first time. Everyone pretty much knows me now and leaves me alone.”

Oh, hell, no. This delicate female had no idea how to protect herself from predators. Zombie or otherwise. He would stake his life on it. And yet she planned to trek through seas of drunken men who were only looking to score? Who may not take kindly to being rejected?

“I’m going with you.” The moment the statement registered, he cursed. He couldn’t help her the way she needed without finding himself in a whole lot of trouble she wouldn’t understand. He added, “West and Beck are going with us.” Problem, meet Solution.

Her surprise was immediate. Not used to anyone doing anything to help her with her sister? The idea alone made his chest throb, and he couldn’t blame coincidence this time. For some reason, this woman affected him in a way no one else ever had.

Would Daphne affect him even more deeply, now that they were adults?

“I couldn’t ask—” she began.

“You didn’t ask. I’m telling.”

Her eyes narrowed, her golden lashes nearly fusing together. She opened her mouth to snap a sharp reply, he was sure, before her shoulders sagged with defeat. “All right. Thank you.”

Determination could only carry a person so far, and she’d reached the end of hers.

He called for his friends, explained the situation; they didn’t hesitate.

“We’ll find her, no problem,” Beck said.

“Grab your keys,” Jase said to West. “We can reschedule pool time.”

“You don’t have to reschedule—” Brook Lynn began, but Jase gave her a withering glare, and she changed her tune. “I’ll drive.”

West glanced at Brook Lynn’s junkyard clunker and grimaced. “I insist we take my car.”

“I don’t want to use up your gas,” she called as he stalked back into the house.

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Much better to use West’s gas than what little there had to be of hers. “Come on.” Jase helped her settle into the backseat of West’s Mercedes.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, even more confused. “You don’t like Jessie Kay, and you don’t like me, but you’re still willing to help us?”

“I never said I didn’t like you,” he informed her, moving in beside her.

As his friends claimed their spots up front, she looked at him, her lovely face illuminated by the vehicle’s interior light, her expression almost...sad. “I’ve learned that actions speak so loudly, words often don’t need to be uttered.”

“Well, I think my actions tonight are proving I like you just fine.” Liked her far too much.

As they motored down the country roads, he turned and gazed out the window—anywhere but at her—hoping to stop the now-constant ache, end the conversation and shatter his awareness of her in one fell swoop.

He accomplished only one out of three and cursed.

Brook Lynn sat so close to him, the heat of her enveloping him, the scent of her filling his nose, and both fogged his mind.

They passed through his favorite part of town, where different-colored buildings formed connecting lines on each side of the road. Some of the buildings had tin roofs, some shingles. Some were flat; some were pointed. Some of the walls were made of red brick and some of wood. But every single one had character, as if they had come straight out of a painting.

Brook Lynn shifted, rubbing her thigh against his, breaking his concentration. His hands itched for contact... How easy it would be to reach out and twine their fingers.

Hand-holding? What, I’m in junior high now?

“Jase,” Brook Lynn whispered and sighed warily. “I like you just fine, too. You’re actually a pretty nice guy.”

Kind words. For him. The least-deserving person on earth. If she knew half the things he’d done...hell, even a tenth of the things he’d done...she would have kept her lips zipped. But she didn’t know, and he reached for her without thought, the need to connect with her stronger than the need to remain self-contained, distant.

Who am I?

The moment his hand covered hers, she visibly relaxed. He tightened his grip, actually clinging to her. I’ve helped soothe her. Me. And maybe...maybe she’s soothing me, too. At least a little. Because even though desire for her was building, turning his body into a pressure cooker, he experienced wave after wave of peace. As if the world could catch fire and burn around him, and it wouldn’t matter. He was finally where he needed to be, doing what he needed to be doing.

Might not know who I am, but I know I need more of this. Which was the very reason he forced himself to release her.

CHAPTER FOUR

JASE REVERENTLY LAID Brook Lynn on one side of his bed while Beck just sort of plopped Jessie Kay on the other. Both girls were passed out, though for different reasons. Brook Lynn was exhausted. Jessie Kay was trashed.

The lamp on the nightstand cast soft beams of light over Brook Lynn, and Jase found himself standing there, unable to move¸ staring like a creeper. He’d never expected to meet the real Sleeping Beauty. Silky blond hair spilled around a face as delicate as an antique cameo. Her lashes were so long they curled at the ends. Her heart-shaped lips were red, plumped...begging for a kiss.

A muscle flexed deep in his gut.

“Jessie Kay?” she muttered, the girl clearly never far from her mind.

“She’s fine. She’s right next to you,” he said quietly, not wanting to yank her from that sweet place between sleep and wakefulness. “Beck is tucking her into bed right now.”

Her eyes remained closed as she burrowed deeper into the covers. “Home?”

“My home. You slept through most of the search.”

“Have to tell her...we...fired.”

She and her sister had been fired...from Two Farms? Surely. It was the only job they worked together.

Her earlier tears suddenly made sense. That muscle in his gut flexed all over again.

He’d learned a lot about Brook Lynn tonight, and he’d liked every detail. She was dedicated. Loyal. Kind. Caring. Determined. Sweet.

Too sweet for me.

Only a fool would fire her. And knowing her situation? The fool had to be a major asshole. Somehow she had become a mother to her older sister, and she was a damn good one.

“Jase?” Beck’s voice whispered through the room.

He glanced up. His friend now stood in the doorway, waving him out. Though he hated to leave, he dragged his feet into the hall, shutting the girls inside.

In the kitchen, West gripped a beer in each hand. His eyes were darker than usual, reflecting the shadows underneath.

Beck cursed under his breath. “Seriously?”

“No need for a hissy, Becklina. These aren’t for me.” West handed a beer to each of them. “You’ve both earned a drink. And don’t even think about refusing.”

In unison, they claimed a spot at the table.

Jase clinked his bottle against Beck’s. “Congratulations. You got twelve numbers during tonight’s mission. It’s a new record.”

“Yeah. An all-time low. I must have been off my game somehow,” the guy said with a slight pout.

West rolled up his shirtsleeves. “Beck’s lack of success is not tonight’s top story. This just in—Jase has feelings for Brook Lynn.” He waved his hand around the center of the table. “Discuss.”

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Feelings? Him? He slammed the bottle on the table with more force than he’d intended. “You’re wrong. I barely know her, but even if I did feel something—which I don’t and never will—I won’t go after her. That delicate Southern flower would cut and run the moment she learned the truth about me.”

West frowned at him. Beck patted his shoulder. Both radiated the ever-present guilt and sorrow he hated so much, as if they were to blame for even this.

He loved them, but sometimes he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with them. It hurt too much.

“Besides, if I wanted Brook Lynn, why would I be thinking about finding Daphne?” he asked. “Tell me that.”

“Daphne?” Beck shook his head, hanks of hair falling over his forehead. “Why the hell are you thinking about her? She left you when you needed her most.”

“Maybe I left her,” he said. He might have blamed her for their split at first, but then he’d gotten over himself and reviewed the situation through her eyes. His actions had presented her with a clear-cut choice: a life of misery with him or a chance at happiness without him. It wasn’t brain surgery.

West scowled at him. “You were forced to leave her.”

“No. No, I wasn’t. I chose to do what I did, and the decision cost me.”

Silence descended, tense, oppressive. Jase looked away from his friends, his gaze skipping over the room. Have got to finish repairing this place. It was time. They were settled in, and they weren’t going to move. Not again.

The yellowed wallpaper had what looked to be strawberries scattered in every direction. He’d already replaced the chipped and stained laminate counters with marble and the parquet floor with stone, only to stop. Some part of him recognized the house had become a metaphor for his life. Bits and pieces fixed up, the rest a crumbling wreck.

While a little manual labor would change the house, nothing would ever change him.

“Jase,” West said. “Forget about Daphne. We need to talk about the reason you won’t admit you’re developing feelings for Brook Lynn.”

Seriously. When had these two become such pusses? “I have no feelings,” he insisted. “I’m too screwed up.”

“We’re all screwed up,” Beck said. “But that doesn’t stop me from trying.”

“Boy-o, you haven’t been trying,” West said. “You’ve been plowing, sowing the proverbial wild oats.”

If people were clay, then the past was the pair of hands on the spinning wheel, shaping...shaping...misshaping. They’d each been dried and hardened damaged. The only way to change them now was to break them. But Jase had been broken before and had tried to glue the pieces of himself back together. Had suffered in ways he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. He was different now—worse.

He would not break again.

“Forget about me. You’re avoiding the heart of the issue, Jase,” Beck said softly, leaning back in his chair. “We all are, and it’s not doing us any good. So I’m just going to say it. Because despite the fact that we all did what we did together, we’ve never spoken the words aloud.”

A stilted pause as Jase shook his head. They hadn’t spoken the words aloud because he couldn’t bear to hear them.

“Nine years ago,” Beck continued, “we committed a terrible crime. The three of us. Together.”

Not ready to do this. Jase drained his beer then drained Beck’s. “Enough.”

The color faded from West’s face, but still he said, “We killed someone.”

Jase went still. Why were they doing this to him? As if he would ever forget.

West, looking haunted, said, “They deemed it voluntary manslaughter.”

“You refused to name names and testify against us to reduce your sentence,” Beck added, “so you were given the maximum penalty.”

“I know. I know all of this,” Jase snarled, his rough voice echoing off the walls. “Enough!”

Damn it, the girls.

He twisted in his chair to watch the door in the hallway. A minute passed...two...three... To his immense relief, it never opened.

He released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He never wanted Brook Lynn to discover he was an ex-con. A murderer. That he’d committed the crime not in self-defense but in white-hot rage.

“I expected the purging of the poison to make me feel better,” Beck said, slumping in his chair. “Instead I only feel worse.”

“Yeah,” West said, just as despondent. “That kind of sucked.”

Jase’s mind drifted to the hours before his entire world had come tumbling down...when he and the boys had been so hungover they’d slept the day away. Tessa had come barreling into the apartment, tears streaming down her cheeks, waking them. It had taken a while, but West had finally gotten the story out of her. She’d gone to a party with her girlfriends and one of the guys there—Pax Gillis—had followed her when she left and raped her in her car.

Even now, bile burned his stomach at the thought.

They’d gone after the guy and beaten him bloody, and it should have stopped there. But even after Pax passed out, their rage hadn’t cooled. They’d continued to whale...and whale...until finally stopping no longer mattered. The damage was done.

Even though Jase had paid for the crime—again and again—guilt had plagued him ever since, almost as bad as prison. Almost. Books and movies often tried to depict the horrors of life behind bars, but they weren’t even close to the reality. There was no privacy. Few privileges. Food he wouldn’t serve to dogs. Hour after hour spent with nothing but memories—and other inmates. Constant threats of violence...rape. Carving weapons in secret simply in an effort to protect yourself, all while living with the knowledge that years would be added to your sentence if you were ever caught. But what else could you do? Let someone shank you?

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Been there, done that. And he had the scars to prove it.

Jase would rather die than go back.

“I know you.” Beck returned *****bject one. “You prefer commitment. Need it. But ever since your release—”

Speaking over him, Jase said, “The boy locked behind bars was not the man who emerged. I’ve changed.”

“The core of you hasn’t.” Beck pegged him with a hard stare. “You’ve been settling for randoms, and I don’t know why. I mean, I know why I do it. Panties melt off whenever I enter a room, and it’d be criminal not to do something about it. But that’s not the reason you do it.”

“I know why,” West said softly. “You don’t think you’re good enough. You don’t think you deserve better.”

He pushed to his feet. “This is the last time I’m going to say it. Enough.” A familiar rage brewed, dark and hungry.

Calm. Control.

His friends only wanted the best for him. He knew that. Just as he knew they thought they owed him for letting him take the fall for them, not realizing they’d long ago paid their debt in full. And not just for the money and the house. They were the only visitors he’d had his entire time behind bars, showing up at least twice a week. They’d offered ears to listen and, as puss as this sounded, hearts to care. Not that he’d ever shared the worst of his experiences.

They didn’t know he would never trust anyone else and would always assume the worst of everyone around him. That he would never stop looking over his shoulder, expecting to be attacked. No woman would ever be able to put up with that for long. If one even wanted to be with an ex-con.

Brook Lynn was the one who deserved better.

So was Daphne. Hell, so was Jessie Kay.

Damn it! He’d come to Strawberry Valley desperate for a clean canvas, but all he’d done was paint it black.

“I’m going for a walk,” he said. Have to get out of here. There was a pond deep in the heart of their land where the fish practically jumped into his hands. The little slice of tranquillity might be just what he needed.

Beck glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s 2:00 a.m.”

“I think I can handle the dark,” he said, trying for a dry tone. Deep down, he knew his words weren’t exactly true. There was darkness in his mind, in his soul, and he’d never handled them. Would he ever?

CHAPTER FIVE

BROOK LYNN LIFTED her arms overhead, arched her back and extended her legs while pointing her toes. As she stretched, the heavy ache of slumber gradually receded from each of her limbs. Sunlight spilled over her, warming her. The seductive scent of masculine musk mixed with the pleasant fragrance of honey and oats enveloped her, fusing with the very fabric of her being. The softness of the sheet beneath her paired with the comforter above her made her feel as though she’d been swathed by clouds. It was, quite simply, heaven on earth. Something she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. If ever.

The only thing that would have made the moment better was a bowl of her French toast casserole, baked with layers of fresh bread, heavy cream, brown sugar and the pecans that fell from the tree shrouding her front porch.

Her stomach rumbled, all get up and prepare this now.

She blinked open her eyes. An unfamiliar—no, slightly familiar—setting greeted her. A single window was draped by navy blue curtains. Minimal furnishings: a bed, two nightstands and a dresser. The wood floor was scuffed. Realization struck, and she frowned. She’d been here once before—and it had not been an enjoyable experience.

Realization struck a second time. This was Jase’s bedroom.

She jolted upright, her heart a wild cascade against her ribs as she zeroed in on the damage she had caused here. The nightstand with a crack, nothing more looked ready to crumble. The “ugly” lamp was a porcelain beauty marred by a crater.

The dark brown comforter on the bed—moved.

Gasping, she scrambled back...falling off the edge of the bed and hitting the floor with a loud thump. She jumped to shaky legs, ready to defend herself from—

“Jessie Kay?”

A soft, sleepy moan registered, followed by a breathy sigh. Relief poured through Brook Lynn as her sister rolled to her side, soon returning to a sleep coma anyone suffering with exhaustion would envy.

A quick scan proved the girl was unharmed and fully dressed, missing only her shoes. Brook Lynn was fully dressed and without shoes, as well, wearing the same T-shirt and shorts she’d worn last night. But though she searched, she found no sign of their footwear.

Bits and pieces of memory teased the fringe of her mind. Searching bar after bar with West and Beck while Jase opted to guard the car. At some point she must have fallen asleep. She had a vague recollection of Jase carrying her to his bedroom. For a moment, she’d thought she was floating. Then she’d felt a strong heartbeat against her temple...steel-hard arms undergirding her...the most delicious heat wrapping around her.

Why hadn’t Jase taken her and Jessie Kay home? To their home? And dang it, where was her cell phone? If she didn’t call Edna soon, there would be hell to pay. Who was she kidding? There was already hell to pay. The clock beside the bed proclaimed 10:03 in bold red numbers. Brook Lynn was seriously late. And if she lost that job...

She stalked into the bathroom, took care of business and washed up quickly, brushing her teeth with paste on her index finger. It wasn’t ideal, but the only other option was using Jase’s toothbrush, and she would rather die than allow his mouth to come that close to hers, even by proxy.

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Her reflection revealed a bedraggled mess with rosy cheeks and eyes sparking wildly. With anticipation? Excitement? No, no. Of course not. More like frustration and annoyance.

In the hallway, the scent of bacon and eggs saturated the air, causing her mouth to water and her stomach to rumble all over again. She hadn’t had a decent meal in... Crap, when was the last time she’d had a decent meal? There was rarely enough time to shop or cook, even though she loved to do both, so she usually snacked on bread and cheese at Two Farms.

Won’t be able to do that anymore.

Before she could work up another cry over the loss of a major source of income, the sound of banging registered. She followed the noise to the kitchen, where two plates piled high with food rested on the table. Somehow she found the strength to keep walking without snatching a piece of bacon—or twelve.

Hinges creaked as she pushed her way outside. The temperature instantly rose...oh, if she had to take a guess, she’d say seven hundred degrees. Bright rays of sunlight burned her eyes.

Squinting, she padded onto the cement. “Ow, ow, ow.” It burned, too! She jumped onto the soft grass, two black birds taking flight in front of her. She scanned the yard—and finally found the source of the banging. Jase, with a hammer. Shirtless Jase. Muscles honed from intense manual labor bulged as sweat glistened and trickled down tanned skin and more tattoos than she’d realized. One of his arms was fully sleeved, the colorful ink wrapping over his shoulder and covering his pectoral. On his other side, his rib cage and torso were etched with intricate designs. A handful of what looked to be letters rose above the waist of his shorts.

Am I drooling? I’m probably drooling. Wow. Just wow. He was major man-candy. Gourmet. The house specialty. He radiated the most sublime *** appeal, the kind that shattered the most ingrained resistance and battered the staunchest inhibitions, and he would definitely satisfy even the most intense sweet tooth. He worked the hammer with masterful expertise, as though he could fix anything, anywhere, anytime, and she had to admit it was total girl porn.

How she longed to close the distance and study every inch of him more closely. Study, yes...

Perhaps touch...

He paused to wipe his face with a rag, and she almost moaned at the increased deliciousness of him. If almost was the new word for loudly.

He looked up and stilled.

“Brook Lynn.” His sunglasses were light enough that she was able to watch his gaze travel over her slowly, leisurely.

Her body reacted as though physically caressed, tingling and aching in her most intimate places. Heat flash? Maybe. Probably.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice a husky rasp just as ***y as the rest of him.

“Morning.” She gulped and wiped her hands on the side of her wrinkled shorts. Don’t gawk at his chest. Certainly don’t glance lower. “My phone. My keys. Shoes.” Making words should not be this difficult. “Do you know where they are?” Better.

“Phone and keys are in the kitchen. Shoes are in your car.”

She must have been too focused on the noise—and then the food—to notice the phone and keys. “Well, then. Thank you. For everything,” she added, only to hesitate. “But, uh...I’m a little confused about why you didn’t just take Jessie Kay and me to our home.”

“Two reasons.” He set the hammer aside. “I didn’t have permission to enter your residence, and Jessie Kay had had too much to drink. She needed to be monitored, so...” He shrugged.

So he’d acted like the gentleman he’d once claimed he wasn’t. “Well, thank you. Again,” she said and turned to retreat inside. Only then, with her gaze off him and a little distance between them, was she able to breathe.

How did he affect her so strongly? And how could she make it stop?

“You didn’t eat,” he said, coming in behind her.

Her eyes widened as she rounded on him, her breath hitching when she discovered he was close enough to touch. Close enough to press against, male hardness to female softness, if only she leaned forward the slightest...little...bit. No! Bad Brook Lynn! Bad!

Then his words hit her. “That feast is for me?”

His nod was slow, and his gaze hot on her, as if he’d sensed the direction of her thoughts. “Your sister, too.”

Needing no further encouragement, she sat at the table and dug in, soon caught up in a whirlwind of different tastes and textures, moaning with rapturous delight. Yes, she would have added a few other spices to take the flavor to a whole new level, but all in all the meal rocked her socks.

When she finished, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. Oh, now I’m ladylike? She looked up to find Jase had removed his sunglasses, but hadn’t pulled on a shirt...and he was staring at her as intently as she’d stared at him. It was disconcerting. Especially since his features were blank, and she couldn’t read him.

A blush burned her cheeks, and she cleared her throat. “Don’t judge me.” Or my new food baby.

He arched a brow. “Is that what I was doing?”

Surely. “Well.” She cleared her throat again. “Anyway. My compliments to the chef.”

“That would be Beck.”

Never would she have guessed the pretty boy had a skill that didn’t involve a mattress and a panting partner. “Did he train at the Institute of Divine Cuisine and Hellish Addiction?” Jessie Kay had often accused Brook Lynn of sneaking into classes.

“More like the Institute of That Was Fun, But Now It’s Time for You to Go.”

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Nice. “You guys and your one-night stands,” she said and rolled her eyes.

“Is that judgment I hear, angel?”

Angel? The endearment proved a thousand times more personal and tantalizing than “honey,” shocking her to the core. Of course, he’d meant nothing by it. She figured he probably used the words interchangeably with every female he encountered—even with her sister. But...

I’m still reeling.

“No judgment,” she said and stood. “And now it’s time for me to jet.” Before I do or say something more stupid. “I’m late for work, so...this is goodbye.”

His gaze still locked on her, he stepped closer to her, too close for comfort. She should have backed up, if only out of a sense of propriety, but she remained in place. He crossed his arms over his massive chest, those green eyes heating, burning. A sign of...arousal?

The provocative scent of him filled the air between them; it was masculine, sultry and heady, and it fogged her thoughts. It must have. Why else would she have continued to gaze up at him instead of running away?

“Jase?”

“Brook Lynn.”

Her heart must have heard music her ears couldn’t pick up, because the treacherous organ whipped into a frenzied beat, perhaps even doing cartwheels. Her breaths began to come faster, and shallow. I’m panting. I’m freaking panting. She shifted from one side to the other. He took another step toward her, as if compelled, then another, the last whisper between them vanishing.

He’s the predator, and I’m the prey.

Need more space. Now!

Finally, the synapses in her brain connected, and she hopped backward. As one minute ticked into another, relief remained just out of reach. In fact, she’d just made everything worse, her body aching...desperate to be close to him again...determined to hold on to a strength unlike any she’d ever encountered...to be held on to, as if she were precious, as if she were worth anything, worth everything.

The distance had the opposite effect on him. He snapped out of...whatever they’d been doing and gave a clipped shake of his head. He massaged the back of his neck and even took a step backward on his own, asking, “How much money do you make at the jewelry store?”

No way. No way he’d gone there. “What size is your *****?” she snapped.

He didn’t miss a beat. “Ex-large.”

His balls were that size, too. “Well, my paycheck isn’t your business.” It was so pathetic, she almost wished it wasn’t her business.

She carried her empty plate to the sink, at last spying her phone and keys...right next to a check for two thousand dollars, made out to her. She nearly hyperventilated as she clutched the small piece of paper to her chest. It was more than she’d ever had in her possession.

“I don’t...I can’t...”

“Don’t even think about refusing,” he said.

“I...I won’t.” She couldn’t. And she couldn’t face him, this man who’d just saved her from certain financial ruin. She’d finally do what her body wanted and throw herself at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Her phone vibrated, signaling a text had just come in. She checked the screen to find three missed calls and four texts, all from Edna.

You’re late, Brook Lynn. I’m going to assume you meant to call and alert me?

Edna had never learned to abbreviate.

Where are you??????? the second text read.

Third: Are you coming in today or not?

Fourth: THIS IS VERY UNPROFESSIONAL MISS DILLON. PERHAPS YOU AREN’T SERIOUS ABOUT WORKING HERE OR BUYING THE SHOP.

Just peachy. “I’ve got to go,” she said on a sigh. “If you could give Jessie Kay a ride home, I’d appreciate it.” Brook Lynn continued to do her best to avoid looking at him, although her reason for doing so had changed. Reminded of her sister...reminded of what this man had done to Jessie Kay, with Jessie Kay, a flood of guilt swept through her.

I shouldn’t want to hold him or be held by him. I should want to slap him.

Jase opened his mouth, closed it. He ran a hand through his hair, the thick muscles in his arms knotting, his body radiating a frustration his facial features failed to project.

“I’d...like to offer you a job,” he finally gritted out.

That was what bothered him? The thought of offering her a job?

Wait. Back up. He actually wanted her to work for him? Shock forced her to meet his gaze once again. His eyes were darker, deeper...infinite. She shivered, her tone breathless as she asked, “A job?”

He inclined his head, saying more easily, “As my assistant.”

“Your assistant?” When had she become an echo?

Another incline of his head.

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why do you need an assistant? What do you even do?”

“I live.”

“You live.” Echoing again. “What does that mean?”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I have to fix this place up, make sure it’s safe. Habitable. I can’t do that if I’m always leaving to buy supplies.”

“So you’d want me to buy supplies?”

“Among other things,” he muttered.

“What other things?” Love-shack cleanup? Finding all the panties stuffed in his mattress?

“This and that.”

“Wow. You’re so informative.” But she needed another job. Desperately. Her Rhinestone Cowgirl wages weren’t enough *****rvive and thrive. “How much would you pay me? What hours would I work? Monday through Saturday, I wouldn’t be able to start until sometime after noon. And why do you want me?”