Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1) (16 page)

"Together?"

Roscoe padded into the kitchen with his droopy ears and sad face. Bren reached out and gave him a pat. "Hey, boy."

Her father nodded at the dog. "They were out in the barn getting supplies ready for Sunday to teach Roscoe to track."

"Rafe's still here?"

He nodded back toward the family room. "In with Finn. They're playing checkers." He stirred the skillet, and the aroma of homemade chili thickened the air. "Why don't you wash up? Supper will be ready in twenty minutes."

She kissed her father's rosy cheek. "Thanks. I'm starving."

Bren peeked into the family room, and her heart warmed. Rafe was on his side on the floor, his long, muscled legs clad in faded jeans. But it was the boyish grin lining his face that drew her to him as he contemplated his next move. Finn sat poised with his counter. Aiden sat in the recliner, his face aglow with his laptop—Facebook, another creation she could live without.

Finn slapped his cheeks with both hands and then squeezed them, his lips resembling a goldfish as Rafe jumped several of his checkers.

"King me," Rafe said.

"You beat me," Finn whined.

"Remind me next time to teach you my secret." He tousled Finn's fair head, stood up, and stretched. He smiled at her, and she went all gooey inside.

"Hi, Mom." Finn beamed up at her.

"Hi, sweetie." Then to Rafe, "Hey."

He grinned and started toward her. "Okay if I stay for dinner?"He glanced back at Aiden, who watched them over his computer screen, before giving her his full attention. "We need to talk."

He brushed her arm with his long fingers and slid his hand down to hers and held it.

Bren blushed. "What are you—"

"Outside." He pulled her toward the front door.

She tried to pull her hand away. Aiden and Finn were watching them intently. Bren peered over her shoulder at her boys before Rafe tugged her around the corner wall. "You two need to wash up," she called back to them. "Dinner's almost ready."

Rafe opened the door and then held the screen door for her, her hand tightly clamped in his.

"Let—" She snapped her mouth shut when the boys came charging by to use the bathroom. She stepped out onto the porch, yanked her hand away, and wrapped her arms around herself. "What the hell's wrong with you? You're going to give them the wrong impression."

"Too late." Rafe leaned along the railing.

Bren moved toward him and narrowed in. "What are you talking about?"

"Aiden saw me bring you home last night."

"So?"

"You were wearing my shirt."

"Oh." Bren dropped into the rocking chair in front of him. "That's bad."

"Yep."

She leaned over and peered up at him. "What'd you tell him?"

"I sure as hell couldn't tell him the truth." Those green eyes twinkled, and he gave her a wicked smile.

Bren stood up and moved toward him, outrage quickly tempting her tongue. "You didn't?"

Rafe shrugged and grabbed her hand.

She wanted to do as she'd done before, but the warmth of his hand and that damn thumb of his brushing her knuckles made it hard to concentrate.

"Don't be mad, doll face."

Bren ripped her hand from his grasp. "Stop calling me that."

"Makes you mad," he said.

Rafe enjoyed setting her off. In some twisted way, he liked looking for reasons to spar with her.

"Tell me what I need to know."

"I'm officially your boyfriend."

Bren's hand flew to her mouth, and she began to laugh. "Seriously. Rafe Langston couldn't come up with a better lie?"

"He caught me off guard."

"How do you propose we go about dating?"

"Look, just be nice to me. Sit down next to me at dinner."

She could do that. But she wasn't holding his hand. Or... She tingled inside again when she thought back to last night when he was getting ready to kiss her. "We're not—"

"Hell no. I like blondes. Remember?"

Bren raised her hand to punch him.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "Be nice, darlin'. This is a good thing. You want to stake out Connelly's place. You're not going without me. Now we have an excuse why we're spending time together."

He had her within inches of him. His arm slipping around her waist, he leaned in against her ear and whispered, "They're watching."

Bren stiffened.

"You need to do a better job fooling your boys, otherwise Aiden's going to question what's really going on with his mother."

Bren cautiously threaded her arms around Rafe's neck and whispered back in his ear, "Get cute, and I'll nail you where it counts."

The roughened stubble along his jaw rubbed up against her cheek. "I'm countin' on it, darlin'."

That Texas drawl had her legs wanting to fold like an unsteady card table. She only hoped their little charade wouldn't topple like a house of cards, because the longer she allowed herself to be tangled up with this cattle rancher who had decided Bren Ryan was his charity case, the more she was beginning to like having him around.

And that couldn't happen.

B
ren had fretted all week about tonight. Most of all, she wanted to nail Wes. But the other part of her—the soft, emotional woman part—regretted the guise of a date to get her out past midnight without raising suspicion.

She didn't like lying to her family. Her boys liked Rafe. Giving them the impression Rafe could become a permanent presence added another layer of difficulty when it came time to reverting back to just neighbors.

Rafe tucked her inside the passenger side of his black pickup. His hand brushing her knee before he shut the door made her catch her breath. But then she inhaled, and the woodsy scent of his aftershave lingering inside the cab had her question what the hell she was doing.

This isn't real.

But the man was, and he'd fallen into his part with ease as he sat down next to her, his arm resting casually along the back of her headrest. "Where to, darlin'?"

He'd trimmed his hair since she'd last seen him and was neatly put together in a brown corduroy blazer, crisp, white button-down shirt, and new jeans. She could almost be tricked into believing he'd done it all for her.

"You don't have to take me to dinner." Bren waved at her father and the boys on the front porch step and placed her leather jacket in the back seat. "They bought it."

"You're my girl." He smiled easily and put his truck in Drive.

The words made her stomach dip. Did he even have a clue how those three words he so casually tossed off his lips affected her? "Stop being cute. Remember where cute will get you."

He winced. "I forgot you have a mean streak." When he stopped at the end of Grace's driveway, their gazes connected. Those damn green eyes lingered on her face. "You look real nice."

"Keep your eyes on the road, cowboy." She nodded toward the windshield, stifling a chuckle. If he only knew how many outfits she'd cast aside before she settled on her brown suede skirt and cream-colored off-the-shoulder sweater! But knowing she'd be dealing with Wes later, she'd given up her heels for tonight and coordinated her outfit with a pair of brown flat-bottom suede boots. He'd probably approve of her sensibility.

"Yes, ma'am." He stopped smiling and concentrated on driving. "I'm serious about dinner. I'm starving."

"So what do cowboys eat?"

He gave her a sideways glance. "You're a smart girl."

"There's a Longhorn Steakhouse in Hagerstown."

"We have time for that?"

Oh yeah. There was no way she'd step foot in the local grill tucked off Main Street toting lover boy. "They're not meeting until two in the morning." She glanced at the dashboard clock. "It's only eight thirty." She cocked her head. "Why did you insist on coming so early?"

"How would it look if I picked you up at midnight?"

She relaxed against the seat, his point taken. "Take 70. It's thirty minutes from here."

Rafe guided her toward their booth, his hand warm and low against her back. He took the seat across from her.

Bren leaned over the table. "No one knows us here. You can stop with the touchy-feely stuff."

Rafe raised his hands. "Whoa, doll face. I'm just playing my part."

"Not funny," she said through clenched teeth.

The manager came by and placed two glasses of ice water on their table. "Your waitress will be with you in a minute." He placed two menus down and walked away.

"Loosen up. I was only kidding."

All fun and games for Mr. Langston. But tonight was way too important for kidding around. "Why don't you just figure out what you want to eat and stop trying to be my date. Okay?"

The humor on his face faded, and he grabbed for the menu and buried his head behind it.

Bren sipped her water. She couldn't think of eating. She had her friends at animal control on red alert for tonight. Law enforcement—her law enforcement—was still in the dark, until she actually needed him. If Kevin knew, she wouldn't have gotten this far.

She toyed with the menu and decided on a house salad and took another sip of water.

A tall blonde waitress approached their table. "Hi, my name's Belinda, and I'll be your server."

Bren choked on her water, and Rafe smiled over his menu. "You ready, honey?"

Rafe slid inside his truck and started the engine.

Bren snuggled into the collar of her leather jacket and dusted the snowflakes still perfectly formed on her skirt.

"You'll be warm in a minute."

She blew into her hands. "I forgot my gloves."

Those small but capable hands he'd acquainted himself with dropped into her lap. He could think of some inventive ways to warm her fingers. Instead, he concentrated on the road. "It's only eleven. What's the plan?"

"Sit and wait. They might show up early."

Sitting in the dark with Bren—now he was sorry he'd bought a used truck with a bench seat. There was nothing to stop him from sliding her pretty little ass next to him, except the temptation to do more than talk. Blocking those thoughts, Rafe headed up 70 and took the exit for Clear Spring.

"How much farther?"

"Right up the road. We can park at the Clear Spring Horsemen's Club. It sits across from the front entrance of Sweet Creek Stables."

"He come up with that name all by himself?"

Bren laughed. "A contradiction. Right. Makes me want to spray paint his work of art."

They came up on Wes's creation—a large sign pinned between two stone pillars, lit by landscape lights. The meandering creek on the image, hand painted in pale blue, sparkled with iridescent splendor. The stream's grassy bank included clumps of cattails. Serene. The urge to ram it with his pickup made Rafe clench the steering wheel. But he smiled to himself. "It's still early yet." He glanced over at Bren. "How good are you at keeping secrets?"

She cocked her head with disbelief. "I'm pretending to be your girlfriend. Remember?"

Her wide-eyed accusation stung. There was no way in hell he could forget a thing like that. The problem was he was finding it hard to pretend. "How could I forget?" He reached over and squeezed her bare leg just above the curve of her knee.

Her hard gaze softened, and she rolled her lips in. "Don't make me feel something for you. Because I can't."

He released her leg. The pain in her soft brown eyes made him hurt. "I was just playing with you. I didn't mean to upset—"

"I've been plenty upset. So don't worry yourself." She pointed toward the windshield. "Make the next right. We can park in the club's parking lot."

Rafe made a sharp right and pulled in.

"Park in front and pull in forward."

He chose an area where the parking lot and grass were level, giving him easy access to Route 68 if he needed to make a quick getaway. To be inconspicuous, he parked in between two cars. "This good?"

"Perfect." She nodded in front of them. "It looks pretty quiet. We'll see the trailer when it pulls in. Then I'll call my people."

Rafe laughed. "You have people?"

She cracked a smile. "A whole underground network."

"Ah." Rafe nodded and turned off the ignition. "So do you and your underground network have secret meetings?"

"Most definitely," she said with mock sincerity. "Seriously, you don't think I run the rescue myself. Grace has volunteers and a board of directors."

She didn't have to elaborate on their names. He'd made a point of checking out this nonprofit—specifically the board of directors—after he'd come to Clear Spring and found out that the man he'd been seeking by the name of Tom Ryan had been dead for nearly a year. Except he suspected, based on the ruse of a date, that Daniel Fallon and Paddy Ryan would not be among her underground network tonight. Now, the vet and his wife, he couldn't discount. They were tight with Bren.

Her teeth chattered, and she lifted her chin toward the heating vent. "We still have at least an hour. We'll freeze without the heat."

Rafe reached behind him into the back seat and grabbed the package he'd yet to open. The two porch rockers he'd planned on painting to match the forest-green swing he'd hung on the porch could wait. "You might want to zip up your coat."

"Turn the truck back on, and I won't have to."

He pulled a can from the package and handed it to her. "So, can you keep a secret or not?"

Bren gripped the can. "You're serious?"

"Whatever Bren Ryan wants, I'm here to see she gets."

"What happens if we get caught?"

"Not planning on getting caught." He nodded to the can of forest-green spray paint she gripped in her hand. "You in or not? Or you all talk?"

Bren grabbed the door handle, and Rafe reached for her arm. "Hold up. Ground rules. We cross the highway. You see any cars, we head for the woods until it's clear. Then we do this thing and head back to the truck. Once we hit the parking lot, we play it cool."

"Good plan."

Rafe released her arm and prepared to open his door. It had been a long time since he'd done anything so juvenile. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying himself. He'd been angry for so long after he'd found out his life was a lie. He was angry with his parents—jealous of his brother Trey. But the lie that had brought him to Clear Spring, albeit a year too late, he now embraced, along with a friendship he hadn't expected in Bren.