CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
STEELE
I’m sure no one was pleased with me yesterday when I requested a couple of days off from production. I have two stunts approved and waiting for me to execute, but I couldn’t get her out of my head. All Kip heard was that there was a death in the family. What if it’s her mother or father or, worse, both? What if there was some terrible accident? What if she’s dealing with it all alone? After everything she’d gone through a few years earlier with him, I needed to be sure she was okay. I’ve never lost anyone close to me. Well, besides my mother, and I’m not sure how I really feel about that, but the thought of Jay going through any pain right now … I needed to check on her even if it meant dragging my ass 3000 miles across the country to do it.
On the flight over, I thought about what I’d say, how I’d explain myself. She probably doesn’t want me here and will most likely reject my ass right on the spot, but no matter how horrible the outcome, nothing would’ve stopped me from coming after her.
Not ballsy enough to crash a funeral, I wait at the car. Kip got an address for me, and after I picked up the rental, I popped by her parents’ farmhouse. Her mom and dad were okay. Jay’s mom explained that Trevor’s mother had died. Trevor, yeah, I now have a name for the guy who holds Jay’s heart. I wish I didn’t want a small piece of it. How does one steal a heart from a dead guy? It ain’t right to want to, but I do. Hey, I ain’t asking for the entire thing. I just want a little part of it. It’d be best for her if I started there.
Fuck! Where is this shit coming from?
I promised our relationship would be a feelings-free zone and just about sex. Yet here we are three weeks later with no sex but a shitload of feelings. I’m fucking standing knee-deep in the shit while waiting for her. When I see her, I might as well throw my heart at her and tell her she can have it, crush it, stomp on it, do whatever the fuck she wants.
Fuck me! How am I going to explain why I’m here?
The question falls from my head the second I see her coming down the hill. Wearing a simple black dress with her hair pulled up, she’s beautiful. Her red, tear-ridden eyes meet mine, and my heart forgets to pump. I lean against the car, praying for it to restart before she reaches me. She’s getting closer.
What am I going to say?
Why am I here?
“Get me out of here,” she says, and with quick resuscitations, my heart beats again.
“I can do that.” I spin around and open the passenger door. Without another word or look my way, she climbs into the car. I close the door, trapping her with me. I move around to the driver’s side loaded with more unanswered questions like how she got here and what does she need me to do to make her tears go away? Once inside, heartbeat back to normal, I insert the key. “Where to?”
“Make a right at the street.” She pulls her cell from her purse, and with shaky fingers, she sends a text.
“Okay.” I don’t inquire about who she’s texting. I’m just happy she’s with me.
For the next ten minutes, she directs me back to her parents’ home. I pull in the driveway, and before I can offer my condolences, she jumps out of the car and rushes to the front door. Part of me is glad that I don’t have to explain myself. Some other shmuck might be able to recognize what’s going on here but not this guy. Nope, I haven’t figured it out yet. At least, that’s the shit I’m telling myself. Too scared to let the real reason echo in my head.
She disappears behind the door, so I sit back in the seat. I’m good. I’ve seen her, and she’s safe. But now what? Should I leave? Of course, I should. She didn’t invite me in. I tap the steering wheel, weighing my options; go to the door, leave, or sit here a little longer. Seconds, that move like minutes, tick on by, and I decide I’m not satisfied with just seeing her. I need to … oh, I don’t know, hold her? This need gets me out of the car and nearly to the front door just as she comes storming out of it.
“Here.” She shoves a bottle of wine at me. Damn this woman and her wine. Dressed in boots, jeans, and a flannel, she glances at my suitcoat. “Is that all you brought to wear?”
“No, I have a bag in the car.”
“Go grab it,” she says, pushing a hand through the sleeve of a white snowmobile jacket.
Not about to ask why, I go to the car to get my bag. When I close the trunk, I spot her walking toward the backyard. I round the house to find her climbing onto a red ATV.
“Get on.” She nudges as I get closer.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”
“Why, so you can do some kind of Evel Knievel shit. No thanks. I know how to drive an ATV, Mr. Kane.”
“Okay, Miss Rigsby,” I say, not used to country girl, Jaylyn Unleashed, straddling a four-wheeler, but I like it. I shove the wine bottle in my duffle bag, throw it over my shoulder, and jump on. When I wrap my arms around her small waist and pull myself close, she doesn’t object. Instead, she shifts into gear, releases the brake, and applies the throttle. We jet off toward the woods and hit a winding, rutted trail crowded by trees. She’s comfortable with the terrain and manages well through the uphill and downhill travel.
A few minutes later, we pull up to a small, well-kept log cabin. She shuts down the ATV, gets off, and goes to the side of the cabin, coming back around with an armful of wood.
“Can you get the door, please?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” I’d offer to carry the wood, but like the whole ATV thing, I sense she’ll refuse again. I hustle up the stairs to let her in. She tosses a few pieces of wood into the fireplace, before grabbing the matches from the mantel.
I follow behind, checking out the place. It looks bigger on the inside. There’s a loveseat, a recliner, small kitchen set, a queen bed tucked in the far back corner, and a few small windows, but most of the light comes from the large window along the back wall. Man, the view of the woods from the bed must be breathtaking in the morning. I glance at it with every intention of waking up in it with Jay’s naked body in my arms. Hey, maybe that’s what I’m doing here. As much as I’d like to think this chase came from my cock, I know it can’t take all the credit. I feel something for Jay, and the place I’m feeling it from is well above my waist.
Her small frame shivers in front of the fire that she had no problem lighting. She rubs her hands together, blowing in them from time to time to get warm.
“Yorkshire sure is cold this time of year, huh? Car’s thermostat read thirty-eight degrees earlier when the sun was out. Can’t imagine what it’ll be tonight,” I say, trying to break the ice with a little small talk. I glance at the bed again. Hope she’s got more than that quilt. Looks warm, like grandma worked real hard on it, but I don’t think it’ll cut it.
“Once the fire gets going, it’ll warm up.” She grabs another piece of wood.
“So this is where you grew up?”
“Yes.” She sets the wood onto the fire, avoiding eye contact.
“Didn’t know you were a country girl, driving ATVs and building fires.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” She blows into her hands again.
And that’s when I noticed something’s missing. I walk over and grab her hand. Her eyes fly up to mine. “Where is it?”
“What?” She tries to pull free.
I tighten my grip, lifting her hand. “Your ring. Where is it?”
“I …” She pauses until I let her go. She steps away and turns her back to me, rubbing her hands together. “I buried it.”
“You what?” It sounded like she said she buried it.
“I dug a hole in the ground and buried it,” she whispers.
Holy shit, she did! “Why?”
“I don’t know. It felt like it was time to give it back.”
“Give it back to who?” I move in front of her, pinch her chin, and tilt her head. “Trevor?”
Her eyelids flip up, and she looks at me. “Yes,” she whispers. “The first day I got here, I went to the cemetery and gave it back to him.”
“So he’s here?” Fuck, my hand snaps back from her chin. I didn’t expect this shit when I made the fast and speedy decision to come after her. I didn’t know he was from her hometown. I really don’t know much about him. How long were they together? Were they high school sweethearts? Son of a bitch, he’s here. Trevor, the love of her life, her one and only, the guy who’s keeping her from falling for anyone, from loving anyone … the one person or rather the memory of one person who’s keeping her from me.
No, I can’t think like that. I told her there’d be no love here. I promised she wouldn’t fall in love with me, and I guaranteed it for one reason and one reason only—that damn ring. I knew as long as she wore it, there’d be sex and nothing more. But fuck. If she buried it, an image of her kneeling in front of a headstone flashes to my head, and my stomach roils. That means she’s ready to let him go.
“Yes. He’s here.” She takes her jacket off and tosses it onto the chair. “Now, Steele.” She rolls up her sleeves, turning back to me. Her intense eyes lock with mine just before she asks the million-dollar question. “Tell me why you’re here.”
I sway close to her, bending down until I’m even with her face as I try to come up with a logical explanation. “That does seem to be the burning question, doesn’t it?” I rub my chin, delaying my tangled answer.
“I don’t know about burning, but you’ve definitely ignited my curiosity. So are you going to tell me or not?”
“Well …” I glance from watchful eyes to tempting lips. “You have two choices here.”
“I do?”
“Yes. One, I tell you why I’m here.” I shift from her partially opened mouth back up to her vigilant eyes. “Or two, I show you.” I smile pleased by her elusive expression. “What’ll it be?”
“Black.” She grins.
“What?”
“My bra, it’s black.” She unbuttons her shirt as she kicks off her boots. My eyes move to her working fingers. I feel my immobile hands touching her already. She pulls her shirt free and throws it on the chair along with her jacket. Her skimpy black bra barely covers the roundness of her tits, each curve like a perfect peach, begging me to graze it with my fingers—or tongue. And damn, those nipples; I want to slip a couple of fingers inside that bra and pinch one to get it hard and ready for my bite. “My thong,” she interrupts my naughty undoing, “it’s black too.” She unbuttons her jeans, unzips, and wiggles her hips. Fingers rubbing together, I salivate as she offers me a peek of her panties, that perfect v nestled flawlessly between her shapely thighs. She kicks her jeans to the side. Her hands grab my suitcoat, and as if my cock is somehow connected to it, the more she tugs on my coat, the harder I get. “And if you haven’t caught on yet …” She gives my coat one last yank before dropping it to the floor. “I want you to show me.”