Chapter 18
Katie’s boots made swishing sounds as she ran across the high grass between Cole’s
and Pa’s houses. Only a few stars were out and the moon hid, refusing to light her
way. Didn’t matter. She could find her way in a snowstorm, blindfolded, walking backward.
Her heart thudded in her chest while she wrestled with her winter coat, bundled tightly
over her nightshirt and jeans. At least she had had enough sense to throw on her boots.
Her breath made small white puffs in the air, but she wasn’t cold. Her blood pumped
hot, heating her veins. She stomped past the stables with no more than a glance.
Not tonight.
And in reality that’s exactly what she should do.
Not tonight.
She should wait for morning, turn back, put a damn bra on. But she clamped her jaw
shut and pushed forward.
Whatever was between her and Cole was going to be decided, here and now. She couldn’t
sleep, couldn’t eat, and she wasn’t going to spend one more night twisted into knots
of anger, guilt, and lus—no. There was nothing else between them.
Her booted feet were loud as they stomped up the porch steps that smelled of fresh
paint and newly cut wood. But the screen was the same, flimsy with a broken lock.
Katie pulled it open and turned the knob of the front door. It wasn’t locked, never
had been. Cole didn’t have anything worth stealing.
She slammed the door shut behind her, loud enough to wake the sleeping, one could
only hope. The front mini-blinds rattled in greeting.
There, in the dim glare from the avocado-green stove light was Cole, laid out on a
decade-old La-Z-Boy, shirt opened to the waist, chest on display. His feet were propped
up on the footrest, one toe poking out through a hole in his sock, a tequila bottle
tucked snuggly under his arm.
Cole scrubbed his hand over his face and slicked his too-long hair back. His face
was darkened with shadows and whiskers. In the yellow light, his mouth held a cruel
slant, but it wasn’t until his jaw muscle flexed that Katie questioned her decision.
Man’s house, alone, middle of the night. Throw alcohol into the mix and that just
equaled plain stupid.
“Get out.��� His voice was a harsh whisper, but effective.
She raised her head a notch. “No.”
“Out. Now.”
She took solace in the knowledge he couldn’t hear her heart racing. “Cole, we need
to talk.”
“Talk, huh? I’d offer you a drink . . .” He lifted the bottle and took a swig, sucking
air in through his closed teeth. “But I don’t want to. Go talk to the rich boy that
bought you that piece of flash on your finger. Gotta wonder though, if he isn’t overcompensating
for something?”
And this was the Cole she needed to remember. The one who was a little bit cruel,
was a little bit drunk. This was good. She’d keep this image in her mind. It would
give her strength when she got weak. “His name is Thomas.”
“Don’t care.”
His words hurt more than she’d thought they would. She remembered a little girl begging
him to love her, to take a chance. “Don’t care, huh?”
He stared at her, and the smirk on his face showed her exactly what he was thinking.
“Nope.”
His look of unabashed disdain—like he’d scraped something foul off the bottom of his
boot—was the final push. Without thought, she tore across the room, ripped the tequila
from his hands, and threw it. Her fingers released their grip on the bottle as dark
fluid sprayed the walls. Glass hit glass as the bottle smashed into the front window,
putting a crimp in the cheap mini-blinds. “You damn well better start caring.”
Cole jumped up out of his chair, his body looming over hers as he glared down at her.
“Get the hell out, Katie, or I’ll throw you out.”
This was what she wanted, right? To face the storm? Her courage faltered, but she
couldn’t back down now.
“You don’t have the guts.” She spat the words at his feet, but her challenge was weakened
with the steps she took toward the wall behind her.
Cole followed her retreat. Veins popped out along his arms, running in blue lines
under his tan. The cords in his neck grew thick. “I’ve never hit a woman in my life,
but that could all change tonight,” he hissed.
And some crazy thing inside, some small voice almost wanted him to do it. Do it, so
she could be done with him once and for all. So her heart could harden, and she could
leave with no regrets. “How original, get a little drunk—get a little cruel.”
He swung.
His fist connected solidly with the wall behind her. She gasped and held perfectly
still. So did he.
With labored breath, Cole slowly lowered his forehead to the wall. Katie eased back
as well, grateful for the support behind her. Moments passed; then he shifted and
looked down at her. She caught something flash in his eyes. Regret, guilt? She broke
eye contact. Cole’s vulnerability was not what she needed to walk away with.
“I haven’t touched the stuff in close to two and a half years. And you’ve been back,
what? Less than forty-eight hours and I’m already trying to find my way to the bottom
of a bottle. What does that tell you?”
Katie hadn’t known that. She swallowed and was able to name what she’d seen in his
eyes—shame. And for some stupid reason she wanted to cry. “That you’re afraid.”
Only such soft-spoken words could carry the heavy burden of truth, and he knew it.
He turned around and braced his back against the now busted plaster. They stood shoulder
to shoulder, both staring straight ahead.
Her eyes focused on the mundane, the ordinary. A tear in the La-Z-Boy, the crooked
picture above the sink.
“Why are you here?” he whispered. “I mean why are you here, tonight, in my house?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle to keep from falling, and as much as she wanted
to turn and leave, she couldn’t. She was sick of running.
“Because,” she whispered, but her voice broke. She’d accused him of being afraid,
but did she have the courage to say the things left unsaid—to tell the truth? She
couldn’t live with the wounds festering any longer. “Because, I would’ve fought for
you, fought for
us
. But you wouldn’t marry me.
Me
, Cole. I was the one who was left broken. Not you.”
He tapped his head against the wall, once, twice. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw his hand fall across his chest as if remembering
a dull ache in his heart. Then, as if coming to a decision, he rounded on her. His
hands on either side of her head blocked her in. His dark hair fell across his face
like twisted black ropes. The eyes that peered through were desolate and dead like
a city after a battle. “Marry me.”
His words rushed over her in hot and cold waves, and for one moment she felt joy.
But then she remembered. She remembered this was Cole.
Did he think this was a joke? Something he could laugh about with the guys over a
few beers.
And then I told her I’d marry her. You shoulda seen her face.
Screw you, was what she meant to say, but instead flung the fouler version. The wrong
version.
There is a thin line between love and hate, and sex and a fu . . . She watched it
all play across his face, and then watched as it turned into something savage. His
gaze traveled her body. She followed with a look of her own. The way his chest was
wide and bare. The way her thin shirt dipped low, riding the peaks of her nipples.
“You were always easy, but come on. At least make me work for it.”
Her palm cracked across his cheek.
The savage thing on his face turned into a smile. “Ouch. Struck a nerve? Guess what,
I can speak the truth, too. You don’t love Thomas.”
“Yes, I do.” Her hand stung, but she refused to rub her palm.
He shook his head. “Nah, look who’s running scared now . . . to me, in the middle
of the night.”
She licked her lips. “That’s not why I came. And I’m not scared.”
“Isn’t it? You can lie with the rest of us, but you forget. I’ve known your face and
your body.” With the back of one finger, he traced the contour of her arm, and true
to form, her body responded. Chills followed in his wake. “It never lies. Marry me.
Right now.”
She laughed, and shook off his touch. “Really? What? Right here? In the middle of
your living room? That’s not a real offer, Cole. I thought you were better than that.”
Two could play at this game. She flashed him a wicked smile of her own. Time to go.
She had what she’d come for. Had her answer. She was done with empty promises.
His fingers wrapped around her arm. His blue eyes heated. “Is that a yes?”
She bit her lip and couldn’t help searching his gaze for something more.
His breath fanned her lips, carrying a hint of tequila. “Say it. Say yes.”
She shook her head, but had a hard time forming the word.
His hands traveled down her arms, found her wrists and in one smooth movement had
them pinned above her head. He lowered himself so his body was flush against hers—chest
to chest, groin to groin. “Don’t lie to me. Your body wants this. You want this—have
since you were old enough to know what
this
was. I could’ve had you at sixteen. I could’ve had you at eighteen in the barn that
night. I can have you now if I want.”
Was that a dare or a threat? Either one made her want to throw his challenge back
in his face, but instead she turned her head to the side. He was too potent for her
own good.
His lips found the corded muscle of her neck, abraded her soft skin with the rough
whiskers on his chin. She closed her eyes and clamped her mouth shut, too afraid she
wouldn’t be able to hide her reaction.
With his one hand, he caught her chin and turned her to face him. “Look me in the
eye, and tell me you don’t want to say yes.” His mouth was so close to hers, she felt
his lips move as he spoke the words, and her heart leapt at the faux kiss.
It was as if he reached inside her and found the place that only contained yeses—the
place where no other word existed. She didn’t even hear her response until it was
too late. “Yes.”
Cole released her and only her strength of will kept her knees from giving out. She
clung to the wall, not sure what had happened. Hadn’t she just said yes? Yes to having
him naked and deep inside her, right? At least that was what her body was screaming.
She watched him walk over and grab his boots. He shoved his feet in as he pulled his
keys from the hook by the door. “Let’s go.”
What had happened? Her body shook at his withdrawal like an addict ripped away from
a fix. She leaned against the wall, not trusting herself to stand on her own. “You’re
leaving?”
He opened the door and waited for her to walk through.
The pain in her chest broke open, and her vision blurred. She was so tired. And she
wished the tequila wasn’t splattered across the wall. She needed a drink. “Cole .
. . Cole, I don’t think . . . I’m just not up to push-starting your truck tonight.”
A loud exhale and he bowed his head. Then his blue gaze, pained but clear, pinned
her. “Christ, Katie . . . what you think of me. Get in the truck.”
“We’re still just doing the kissing thing, right? Right?” There was panic in her voice.
Nikki knew it, couldn’t help it. Things had moved fast, lightning fast. One moment
she’d been on Jett’s couch watching him lick salt off of her hand, and the next she
was lying naked in his bed with Jett doing the most incredible things to her body.
He still had his clothes on. Well, mostly. She wasn’t sure where his shirt had gone.
But his wearing pants was a good thing, right? RIGHT?
Oh My God.
“I know. I know,” Jett said against the underside of her breast.
Had she spoken that out loud?
She had to get control back. She had to remember why they shouldn’t be doing this.
“Jett, listen. Listen!”
She wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled him toward her face. He was spending
way too much time down there.
Then he started kissing her mouth, her neck, her shoulder.
Oh My God.
“I know, me too. Me too.” But this time he’d whispered the words in her ear, sending
heavenly chills down her sides.
Christ, she’d spoken out loud again.
She grabbed his face and held it directly in front of hers. “We are only kissing.
That’s it.”
She had to make sure he understood because her being completely naked under him was
starting to feel like an awful lot more than just kissing.
His eyes had lost all color and appeared obsidian in the bedroom light. His hair was
damp, breath coming in short pants. The body shots were having an effect on him. It
had to be the alcohol, not her. No way was it her.