The Closer You Come
The person beneath the covers stretched before sitting up, pale, shoulder-length hair falling into place around a sleep-soft face Brook Lynn recognized all too well. Relief blended with an irritation she didn’t understand as her sister blinked over at her.
Jessie Kay’s lips were moist and red as she clutched a sheet to her naked chest. “Brook Lynn? What are you doing in here?”
She wasn’t wasted, as Brook Lynn had feared, but she was clearly exhausted—from too much pleasure. The irritation spread and spiked.
“What do you think I’m doing?” she demanded.
“Well, the first thing that pops into my head is—annoying the crap out of me.”
A typical Jessie Kay response. “Just...get dressed,” Brook Lynn said. “Let’s go home.”
“No way. You go.” Her sister settled more comfortably against the pillows. “I’m good right where I am.”
“Too bad. It’s late, and we have to work tomorrow.”
“Actually, you have work. I’m calling in sick.”
“No, you are not sticking me with a double two days in a row,” Brook Lynn said. “I’ll tell Mr. Calbert the truth. You know I will.”
Jessie Kay shrugged, unconcerned.
How are we related? “I’m very close to losing my temper with you.” Brook Lynn had only three goals in life: save money, buy Rhinestone Cowgirl and turn her sister into a viable human being.
Love the girl, but I don’t know how much more I can take.
Jessie Kay loved her, too, and hadn’t purposely set out to make her life hell. That was just collateral damage.
“Calm down, Warden,” her sister said. “No need to blow a gasket.”
Warden. A nickname Jessie Kay had given her at the age of fifteen. Brook Lynn gritted her teeth, saying, “Get dressed. I mean it.”
Her sister’s eyes, a darker shade of blue than her own, flashed with impatience. “I told you. I’m not going anywhere.” Jessie Kay said something else, but she’d turned away, and Brook Lynn couldn’t follow the movement of her lips.
“I’m on silent,” she interrupted. “I need to see you.”
Jessie Kay immediately turned toward her, but her gaze got caught on Jase, and she flinched. Before Brook Lynn was able to comment, her sister rushed out, “Okay. All right. I’ll get dressed. Jeez.”
Brook Lynn dared a glance at Jase. He hadn’t relocated from his spot at the end of the bed, his muscled arms still crossed over his chest. His frosty gaze was locked on her rather than the woman he’d just slept with, and she gulped.
“We’d appreciate a little privacy,” she said, praying she wasn’t breathless.
He gave a single, clipped shake of his head. “Sorry, honey, but this is my room.”
Honey? Had she misread his lips? “Well, we want to borrow it for a few minutes.”
“I doubt you could afford my rental fee.”
Depended on the currency. Shivers? Tingles? She currently had those in spades. He exuded the most potent levels of testosterone she’d ever encountered, her deepest instincts recognizing him as the kind of guy every girl should have by her side when the zombie apocalypse occurred.
After a marathon viewing of The Walking Dead, she and Kenna had even mapped out survival plans A, B and C. Glomming on to the first strong (and handsome) man they came across just happened to be the heart of B. Plan A, her personal favorite, revolved around kicking zombie butt while stealing supplies from other survivors—girls had to do what girls had to do—while C boiled down to burning the entire world to the ground.
“Can you at least pretend to be a gentleman and turn around?” she asked.
“I would—if I knew how.”
A quiver ran through her, nearly turning her muscles to jelly. She should not find his unrepentant bad-boy admission sexy. No, she definitely shouldn’t. Somehow she managed to look away from him. He’d just slept with her sister, so he was now and forever off-limits.
Jessie Kay scanned the spacious room. “Anyone seen my shorts?”
A pair of cutoffs and a tank were wadded up next to Brook Lynn’s feet. She picked up both and tossed them at her sister. “Well? Aren’t you going to apologize for missing five hours of work?”
“Uh, why would I apologize?” Jessie Kay tugged on the shirt. “I’m not sorry. Besides, I barely had any customers.”
“All of your tables were full with changeovers every hour. Meaning I had to hustle—without a break—to meet the demands of your customers as well as mine. Which was impossible! I made mistakes and lost tips.” A single penny counted when you had so few.
“I’ll make it up to you, swear,” Jessie Kay said, shimmying into the shorts while still under the covers. “Don’t worry.”
Another spark of anger burned through Brook Lynn. “Have you come into a secret inheritance, or will I be forced to dig into my savings yet again to pay your share of rent and utilities?”
“Hey! I’m totally keeping track of every cent I owe you. I’m going to pay you back.”
It may be too late then, she wanted to scream. Her future happiness had a time limit. Edna, the owner of Rhinestone Cowgirl, had given her until the end of the year to come up with the money to buy the place.
Brook Lynn might not be passionate about her creations, but owning that little jewelry shop was her only viable road to success. And that she wanted with every fiber of her being. She had already begun to make plans. She would pay to have a webpage created and sell her jewelry to people all over the state of Oklahoma, not just to the residents of Strawberry Valley and the seasonal flood of tourists. She would finally stop living day by day and actually live for tomorrow.
Her sister stood and patted her on top of the head. “Hate to break it to you, little sis, but your jewelry store is just about as useless as a cow squirting water.”
Useless?
Useless!
“I just don’t want you unhappy,” Jessie Kay added, throwing fuel on the fire.
The burn of simmering anger became a bomb of rage, exploding inside her. Unhappy? Unhappy! What did her sister think she was now?
“Well, maybe I don’t want you to end up like Uncle Kurt,” Brook Lynn gritted out.
Jessie Kay gasped. “Dude. That’s so harsh.”
Most definitely.
Years ago, one of the massive machines at a nearby dairy farm exploded, killing half the workforce. Many Strawberry Valley residents were employed there, including their dad. He had been pronounced dead at the scene.
Their mother had done her rock-solid best to raise them, but occasionally she’d been so desperate for help she’d called her con-artist brother. And when she later drowned—God rest her precious soul—Uncle Kurt, their only remaining family, had moved to Strawberry Valley “for good” to care for them. Brook Lynn had been fifteen at the time and Jessie Kay seventeen, and though they’d been old enough to see to their own needs, they’d still required a legal guardian. But Kurt had stayed only long enough to collect the life insurance.
Jessie Kay gave her a little push, snapping her back into focus. “I’m nothing like that dirtbag. You take that back.”
“Never!” Brook Lynn returned the push. She only ever resorted to physical violence with Jessie Kay.
Her sister slapped her shoulder.
Brook Lynn delivered a slap of her own. “I’m fixing to start counting, Jessica Kay.”
“One,” her sister mocked, knowing her ways better than anyone.
“Two, three.” Forget battling with words. With a screech, Brook Lynn launched forward, crashing into Jessie Kay. They fell into the mattress and bounced to the floor, where they rolled around in a struggle for dominance. When they bumped into the nightstand, the lamp teetered...tumbled down and shattered. The damage barely registered as they continued to wrestle. Brook Lynn managed to come out on top and pin her sister’s shoulders with her knees. She forced the girl to slap her own face.
“Why are you hitting yourself, Jessie Kay? Huh? Huh? Why?”
Her sister twisted left and right, trying to dodge the blows.
Warm breath fanned the crown of Brook Lynn’s head as strong arms banded around her, and a masculine scent saturated her awareness. Jase.
“Let me go,” she demanded. “Let me go right now.”
His hold only tightened. He hefted her over his shoulder fireman-style and strode out of the room.
CHAPTER TWO
JASON—JASE—HOLLISTER carted the petite bundle of fury into the backyard. She fought him every step of the way, the little wildcat, but he held on as if she were a well-deserved war prize. The party guests watched with wide grins, enjoying the show. A few even followed him, no doubt curious to see how the scene would play out.
He resented their presence, actually hated that they were here. Truth be told, he liked to keep his two friends close and everyone else at a distance. His head wasn’t screwed on right on the best of days, and today wasn’t the best of days. He hadn’t had a best day in a long time.
Behind him, the firecracker he’d just slept with shouted, “Put my sister down this instant, you overgrown Neanderthal!”
If he hadn’t already regretted sleeping with Jessie Kay before Wildcat had stormed into his bedroom—she was also known as Brook Lynn, apparently—he would have regretted it now. Before moving to Strawberry Valley a few weeks ago, he’d decided to end his sexual bender. A five-month carnal odyssey, Beck had called it, not quite realizing how right he was. It was an odyssey. Straight into hell. Jase had expected pleasure, maybe a little fun, but he’d had trouble relaxing around the women, and it had made for bad sex, great guilt and even worse memories.
Tonight had been more of the same, another regret to add to his ever-growing list. He’d had trouble focusing, constantly on alert for a sneak attack.
The nine-year habit would be hard to shake.
Besides, the move here was supposed to be his fresh start in a place that represented everything he’d never had but had always craved. Roots, permanence. Peace. Wide-open spaces and community support. A clean canvas he’d hoped to keep clean, not mar by creating a perfect storm of drama, pitting two sisters against each other.
Too late.
Though he’d had no desire to shit where he ate, so to speak, and mess everything up with a scorned lover, he’d had a few beers too many tonight, and Jessie Kay had crawled into his lap, asked if she could welcome him to town properly, and that had been that.
At least he’d had the presence of mind to make it clear there would be no repeat performances, no blooming relationship. He’d earned his freedom the hard way—and he would do anything to keep it.
Women never stuck around for the long haul anyway. His mother sure hadn’t. Countless foster moms hadn’t. Hell, even the love of his life hadn’t. Daphne had taken off without ever looking back.
Light from the porch lamps cast a golden glow over the swimming pool, illuminating the couple who’d decided to skinny-dip. They, like everyone else within a ten-mile radius, heard the commotion; they scrambled into a shadowed corner.
“Pay attention, honey,” Jase said to Brook Lynn. “This isn’t a lesson you’ll want to learn twice. You throw a tantrum in my room, you get wet.” Jase tossed the little wildcat into the deep end, hoping to calm her down.
Jessie Kay beat at his arm, screeching, “Idiot! Her implants aren’t supposed to be waterlogged. She’s supposed to cover them with a special adhesive.”
Please. “Implants are always better wet.” He should know. He’d handled his fair share.
“They aren’t in her boobs, you moron. They’re in her ears!”
Well, hell. I’m on silent, she’d said, the words suddenly making sense. “Way to bury the lead,” he muttered.
Brook Lynn came up sputtering. She swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out with her sister’s help, then arranged her hair over her ears before glaring up at him, reminding him of an avenging angel.
He’d hoped the impromptu dunk would lessen her appeal.
He’d hoped in vain.
Water droplets trickled down flawless skin the color of melted honey. The plain white button-up and black slacks she wore clung to her body, revealing a breathtakingly erotic frame, legs that were somehow a mile long, breasts that were a perfect handful...and nipples that were hard.
Those traits, in themselves, would have been dangerous for any man’s peace of mind. But when you paired that miracle body with that angel face—huge baby blues and heart-shaped lips no emissary from heaven should ever be allowed to have—it was almost overkill.
Damn, I picked the wrong sister.
Well, what was done was done. Another piece of broken glass in his conscience. Another memory to leave a sticky film on his soul, like a spider determined to catch flies.
“I’m sorry about your hearing aids, or whatever they are,” he said, “but catfights aren’t allowed in my room. You should save all disputes for the next JELL-O Fight Night.”
She watched his lips. Her eyes narrowed, an indication she’d understood him.
Without looking away from him, she said, “Jessie Kay, get in the car. If I have to start counting again, you’ll regret it.”
For the first time that evening, her sister heeded her command and took off as though her feet were on fire.
West and Beck arrived a second later and scoped out the scene: a gorgeous woman who was soaking wet, probably chilled, stood as still as a statue, her hands fisted at her sides, while Jase couldn’t seem to look away from her.
“What the hell happened?” Beck demanded, running a hand through his hair.
“This is between him and me.” Brook Lynn pointed to Jase. “You guys go inside.”
“Your hand is bleeding.” West frowned and reached for her.
“I’m not your concern.” She stepped away, avoiding contact, and would have toppled back into the pool if Jase hadn’t caught her arm.
With her sex-kitten curves, he was surprised by the slenderness of her bones. Even more shocked by the soft silk of her skin, the warmer-than-melted-honey temperature. She wasn’t chilled, after all, and the longer he held on, the more electric the contact proved to be, somehow cracking through the armor he’d spent years erecting around his emotions, until he practically vibrated with the desire to touch all of her...to hold her...
To devour.
What the hell?
He released her with a jolt and widened the distance between them. His inner armor wasn’t something he maintained just for grins and giggles. It was for survival. As a boy abandoned by his parents and sometimes mistreated by fosters, he’d learned emotions were a weakness that could be used against him. To feel something for a person or object meant he’d placed value on it—whether for good or ill.
Feel nothing. Want nothing. Need nothing. For the most part, the motto had served him well. There had been times the armor vanished, the darkest of emotions consuming him...pushing him to do things he shouldn’t. Trouble had always followed.
Brook Lynn peered down at her wrist, as if she’d felt something she couldn’t explain, before focusing on him, her eyes narrowing once again.
To Beck and West, who’d remained after her command to leave, Jase said, “Get everyone inside. I’ll handle her.”
The two glanced between him and the girl, and he knew they wanted to protest. Tension thrummed from them both. But then, tension always thrummed from them both. They loved him, but when they looked at him, they only saw him through the dark-tinted glasses of a shared past, a trip they’d taken together through hell. Their guilt and shame always radiated below the surface.
They blamed themselves for the worst years of Jase’s life, a time he would have been far better off dead. It was the reason West had once battled a drug addiction, and Beck still refused to connect with anyone for more than an hour, maybe two if the girl was good. Whether they admitted it or not, they wanted to make themselves suffer the way Jase had suffered. The way he sometimes suffered still.
“Get everyone inside,” he repeated. The gossip vine in this town worked faster than a cable modem, and he had no desire to be the topic du jour. He guarded his privacy the way other people guarded their most valued treasures. Maybe because he had a lot more to hide.
Really, in today’s digital world, there was no such thing as a secret, and the citizens of Strawberry Valley would learn about him soon enough. He just hoped they didn’t attempt to run him off with pitchforks and torches.
“Now,” he added.
This time his friends obeyed. Once the backyard had been cleared, however, they returned to his side.
West offered Brook Lynn a towel. She failed to notice, her attention somewhere in the distance, where tall oaks and blooming magnolias stretched across the acreage. The wild strawberries growing along the forest floor were his favorite part of the property, vivid red fruit that sprang from flowers of the whitest white, with sunshine-yellow centers. A landscape more beautiful than anything he’d ever thought possible.
“Brook Lynn,” he said, but still she paid him no heed. Were her hearing aids ruined?
Guilt pricked at him.
West tapped her on the shoulder, and she yelped. When she noticed the towel, she accepted with a quiet “Thanks.”
“You guys head inside, too, like she said.” Jase hiked his thumb toward the house.
West put his back to Brook Lynn and said softly to Jase, “Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”
What? That the girl looked good—and would look even better in his arms? Too late. Just as quietly, just in case, he replied, “I’m not going to try anything with her.”
Beck gave Brook Lynn his back, as well. “Jase, you just threw her in the pool. I’d say your chances of anything but a catfight are slim. The only thing left to do is finesse the situation, and that just happens to be my forte.”
Allow Beck to finesse the delicate beauty? A bead of anger rolled through Jase, surprising him. He’d never directed his temper at his friends. The night’s activities must have screwed with his head more than usual.
“Besides,” West added, “you can’t afford trouble.”
No, he couldn’t. He’d endured his fair share already.
“What if she decides to file a complaint with the sheriff?” Beck’s gaze was grim.
Panic prickled the back of Jase’s neck.
“Whatever you guys are saying about me, stop. If you’ll figure out the cost for repairs,” Brook Lynn said, nudging West and Beck aside to peer up at Jase, “I’ll reimburse you for the lamp and nightstand.”
After what he’d done, she thought she owed him? And get serious. As if there was any way in hell he would ever take her money. He’d heard her argument with her sister, knew the two were barely scraping by.
“Go.” He gave his friends a push toward the door. They reluctantly returned to the party, not because they thought it was the right thing to do, but because they felt they owed him. “I ruined your hearing aids, honey. How about we call it even?”
Her hands immediately went to her ears. To ensure her hair was still in place, hiding them?
The self-conscious action did something to his chest. Made it hurt.
“How about we don’t,” she said.
He ignored her, saying, “Your hand might need to be stitched.” Fat drops of crimson trickled from the cuts the lamp shards had caused.
Her chin lifted another notch. “I’ll be fine.”
“At least let me get you a bandage.”
She watched his lips, took a moment to decipher his words and shook her head. “No, thanks.”
So polite. So distant.
So not worth the hassle.
He’d apologized. He’d offered to pay and had even suggested he play doctor. Now there was nothing left to do but make an exit. “Whether you believe it or not, we are even. It was nice meeting you, Brook Lynn. Let’s do this again in never.” He turned away, fully intending to put her and her sister in the “better off avoided” category of his life.
“Wait,” she called, and for some reason, he stopped. “What are your intentions toward Jessie Kay?”
He closed his eyes. Don’t need this drama. Slowly he turned and said, “You pinned her down and made her slap herself. You seriously care?”
“I do,” she replied, fire crackling in the blue depths of her eyes.
Lying had never been his thing. “I have no intentions. Tonight was a one-and-done experience.”
The fire intensified. “So that’s it? You just screwed her, and now you’re dismissing her?”
“That about sums it up, yes.” In fact, he was pretty sure he was done with all women for a while. When things settled and a need for companionship grew, he might think about contacting Daphne. She already knew some of the horrors he’d endured as a kid, the sins he’d committed as a young man. Though she didn’t know everything he’d been through as an adult—he shuddered, recognizing soul-deep he would never discuss certain things, even with West and Beck. He could have something good with Daph, something permanent. She’d had her reasons for leaving him, and they’d been good ones.
But what could he offer her? It would be impossible to build a future on the crumbling foundation of his past.
And...looking at Brook Lynn now, his body said to hell with Daphne, take this one. The girl smoldered with life and vitality, and he experienced another unbearable urge to grab on to her and hold tight. Warmth spilled through his veins, causing his skin to prickle.
This reaction wasn’t as much of a mystery as the others. Until six months ago, he’d gone nine years without a woman. Of course his body wanted the one that was nearby.
“Jessie Kay is a person,” she said. “She has feelings.”
“So am I. So do I.”
Brook Lynn’s skin flushed to the deepest rose, the change startling, mesmerizing. Irritating.
“She also knew what she was getting into,” he added. “I made sure of it before I ever escorted her into my bedroom.”
Brook Lynn removed one of her sensible flats, but rather than throwing it at him as he expected, she dumped out the water. “Do you do this often, then?”
“Do what?” he asked.
“Seduce and abandon women.”
He laughed; he just couldn’t help himself. “Honey, you must not know your sister as well as you think. She came on to me.” Just a few weeks ago, she’d done the same to Beck. Not that either of them had put up much of a fight or ever complained. “At first, I even told her no.”
“Are you saying she forced you?”
He lost his grin in a hurry, dark waves of rage breaking through his armor, rushing over his mind. His hands balled into fists.
He took a deep breath. Feel nothing. Want nothing. Need nothing.
Tone flat, he said, “No. I was willing. And now, this conversation is over.” He turned before he did something he would regret—too many of those already—and once again began to walk away.
Once again she called, “Wait.”
Something must have been seriously wrong with him, because he faced her, snapping, “What?”
She stepped back, as if frightened.
“What?” he asked more gently.
“I really am sorry for the damage I caused in your room.” Her features softened, making her appear vulnerable in the most tantalizing way, rousing protective instincts he hadn’t known he possessed. “I will pay for what I broke.”
He recognized integrity when he saw it and respected the hell out of it. To so many people, words were just a means to an end. To him, words were a bond. Jase wouldn’t prevent this girl from doing what she felt was right.
“I’ll mail you a bill,” he said, deciding he wouldn’t charge her more than twenty dollars for items he’d spent well over two grand on.
“Thank you.”
“And I’ll pay for the damage to your hearing aids.” He wondered why she had them in the first place. Had she suffered with deafness all her life?