Dirty Scoundrel

But I’m not doing that. I’m never leaving my sweet Clay again. The other night was a wake-up call for me. I realized how easy it is for me to retreat into my hurt and just walk away when I’m upset. I can’t do that anymore. It cost me seven years of happiness and I’ll be damned if I’ll let it cost me seven more. When I’m unhappy, I need to communicate it better. And I’m going to have a long, long talk with Clay about shutting me out when he’s hurting.

Now’s not the time, though. It can all wait a few more days.

I finish vacuuming and wrap up the cord. A moment later, an arm goes around my waist and Clay buries his face against my neck, inhaling deep.

“All finished?” I ask softly.

“For now. Played a million hands and shared stories about Seth. Still didn’t bring him back.” His words are unhappy and softly slurred. He’s had several beers, probably to try and drown his feelings. Poor thing.

I turn and hug him close, wishing I could take away just a little of his pain. “Shall we go? Or do you want to stay here tonight?”

He shakes his head. “We can go. Wanna be alone with you.”

My heart starts racing at that. It’s been days since we’ve had sex, and I’m craving it, even though I know Clay hasn’t been in the mood. I understand it completely—but my body still hungers for his. Maybe tonight we’ll make love again.

But Clay’s silent as the driver takes us back to the hotel. And when we get in bed that night, he holds me close and tucks me against him . . . and that’s it. He needs more time, then. I understand. I turn and hold him close, playing with his hair, and he falls asleep with his head on my breasts.

In the morning, he’s gone bright and early.

Nat,

Work today. More meetings. Sorry to bail. Sleep in, okay?

CP

My heart aches for him all over again. He’s clearly struggling. I want him to reach out to me, but I think he’s doing the best he can right now. He comes home late that evening and he’s distracted by a stream of constant texts from his brothers. I watch TV with him, but it’s clear he’s not paying attention, and it’s a quiet evening.

In the morning, he leaves early again for more work business, and when I wake up, he murmurs something about trying to come home early to spend time with me and presses a kiss to my forehead. Then he’s gone. I watch him go and swallow my sigh. He’s still remote and I wish I knew how to reach him.

I also wonder if I’m part of the problem.

I’m here constantly, and he feels obligated to spend time with me, even though it’s clear that the brothers have pressing business matters that are eating up their time. I did some research on Price Brothers Oil while Clay was gone and was surprised to see that it’s an enormous company with thousands of employees. Clay’s never indicated that to me, but maybe it takes up far more time than he’s been giving it and it’s catching up with him?

I don’t want him to feel like he has to rush back to me. That I won’t understand if he works late. That I can’t comprehend what he’s going through, or that I’m going to be selfish and demand that he spend his time with me. I just want his happiness, and I want to alleviate some of the stress and emotional pain he’s going through right now.

The next day, I decide I’ll visit my dad. It’ll get me out of Clay’s hair and let him have some alone time.

Maybe that’s what he needs right now.

I write him a quick note before I head out the door.

Clay,

I’m just getting in your way right now. Gone to Dad’s. Take your time.

Nat

Clay

Meetings this week have been an absolute beast. It’s been one thing after another. Seth didn’t leave a will—why would he; he was barely twenty-one—and so his shares have gone to next of kin, which are me and my brothers. Instead of sinkin’ it back into the company and just goin’ about our business, we’ve been discussin’ ways we can use the money to honor the memory of our brother. We’re hashin’ out what we want to get done with the lawyers. Knox thinks scholarships are the way to go. Boone wants to set up pensions for the employees. Gage, well, Gage is just simmerin’ with rage about the entire thing and doesn’t have an answer.

Me, I want to talk to Nat. See what she thinks. She’s always got a good way of lookin’ at things.

Today, the ache of my brother’s death hurts a little less. Today, I can look at the last picture I have of him—tucked on the sun-visor in my truck—and not feel like I’ve been stabbed in the gut. I still have a yawning void in my heart where he used to be, but I’m startin’ to feel like I can survive now. Havin’ Natalie helps. This mornin’, I woke up to see her sweet, sleepy face and her lush curves tangled in the sheets, and it made it difficult to leave. Been thinkin’ all day about gettin’ back to her and peelin’ off her clothes and gettin’ her under me. Been far too long since I’ve been inside her. I think I was too numb before, but now the need for her is back with a vengeance, and my dick’s remindin’ me what it’s been missin’ out on.

I promised Nat that I’d try to make it home early today, and I decide to make that promise a reality. I cut back on a few meetings—IntelligentCamo can wait a few more days, along with my plans for buyin’ land. Thinkin’ about building a house for me and Nat. Something designed just how she wants it instead of movin’ into someone else’s old house. Somethin’ that’s perfect for both of us. I like the thought, and I like imaginin’ the way her eyes will light up when she realizes what I want to do. She loves them corny house shows on HGTV and the like. Can’t blame her. She’s lived under her dad’s thumb for all her adult life. I imagine havin’ a house all her own is somethin’ out of a dream for her.

I wanna make that dream a reality. Show her how much I care. How much I want to make her happy. Show her that I’m not the selfish asshole that I seem.

I can hardly wait to see her, and when I get out of the elevator that leads to our floor in the hotel, I practically sprint down the hallway toward our room. Maybe if I’m lucky, she’s still gonna be in bed, undressed and sexy. I can slide under the sheets and crawl between her thighs and kiss her sweet cunt for hours. She loves that. Every time I make her come by eating her out, she acts all surprised, like it’s a gift of some kind. Fuckin’ love that.

Actually, I love everything about her.

My dick’s hard by the time I get to the door, and it takes me a few moments of fumblin’ to get the keycard to unlock the door. When I do, I shut the door quietly so I don’t wake her, and sneak inside. Except . . . she ain’t in bed. I poke my head into the bathroom, and she ain’t there, either. Confused, I pace through the room. Where’d she go?

Then I see the note she left on the table.

My heart starts to hammer at the sight of it. I pick it up slowly, dread creepin’ through my veins.

Clay,

I’m just getting in your way right now. Gone to Dad’s. Take your time.

Nat

In my way?

In my fuckin’ way?

Is she crazy? She’s the only thing that’s keeping me from losin’ my shit lately. When I’ve felt lost, she’s been right there to hold me close. When I felt overwhelmed with Seth’s funeral, she jumped right in and took care of things. She’s been at my side, loving and sweet and supportive and it’s been so fuckin’ appreciated and she thinks she’s in the goddamn way?

My mouth goes dry. I . . . I’ve chased her away. Fuck.

I know I haven’t been as affectionate since Seth died. I know it’s been a week since we’ve made love. I know she’s reached out to me and I’ve been remote. It’s just my way of dealin’. I thought she knew that I needed a little time in my head to sort through things—but what if she didn’t? What if she thought I was silently tryin’ to send her a message to go away?

What if I’ve lost her?

The thought is like a gut-punch and I feel sick. I drop to a nearby chair, reading the note again. Take my time. Take my time? I don’t want time if it’s not with her. I don’t want my time. I want every second, every hour of her time.

I can’t lose Nat. Not when I’ve just got her back.

I fling myself out of the chair, grabbin’ my keys. No sedan today, no limo today—I don’t want to wait for them to get here. Time to take my truck. I race down to the elevator and when it doesn’t come fast enough, head for the stairs. If Nat’s gone, I’m gonna fuckin’ bring her back. If she thinks she’s not important to me, then it’s up to me to show her just how much she means to me.

If it takes more money, I’ll spend it.

If it takes grovelin’, I’ll do it.

I just can’t imagine life without her at my side. Already I feel empty at the thought.

I fucked up. I was hurtin’ and instead of reachin’ out to my girl, I pushed her away. Just like seven years ago, I didn’t talk to her. I pushed her away and now I’m gonna pay the price.

I only hope it’s not too late.

Chapter Sixteen

Clay

A man’s never driven so fast down the highway. I push the pedal in my truck down to the floorboards. Every minute that ticks past feels like another minute that might make things too late. It’s tearin’ me up inside that she thinks she’s in the way. That she’s leavin’ for my sake. Fuck all that. I’m a selfish enough bastard to admit that I want her at my side always. Her stayin’ is for my sake. Didn’t realize what a good thing I had when she came back to me, agreein’ to my stupid-ass contract and my ignorant demands. Fuckin’ anal. I demanded anal because I thought it was funny. Here she was havin’ to give up her pride and her dignity just so she could keep her dad off the streets, and I’m demandin’ her butthole because it soothes my pride.

I’m such a goddamn bastard. I hate myself right now for what I’ve put her through.