All Chained Up (24 page)

 

TWENTY-SIX

B
RIAR JUST FINISHED
putting the last dish in the dishwasher when a knock sounded on her door. She closed the dishwasher and pushed the start button before padding barefoot to her door. A peek through the peephole had her gasping and lurching back.

Knox stood on the other side. What was he doing here?

He knocked again. Her hand moved to unlock the door and then she snatched it back. No. She wasn't doing this again. No more. She'd offered him everything and he walked away. Because she was
bad
for him.

If she opened the door she would let him in, and then she'd probably let him in her bed. Because she was that weak. Because she was putty in his hands. She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't succumb. She had been working so hard to get over him. She'd even told Shelley that she would go out with her ex-­brother-­in-­law. True, Shelley's ex-­husband was a douche but apparently he had a nice brother.

He knocked again. “Briar, please open the door. I know you're in there.”

Her skin shivered at the sound of his voice. She'd missed him. It would be so easy to let him in. In her home. In her still raw and bleeding heart. She wouldn't survive him leaving her the next time. This time had been hard enough.

He continued, “Look, I just came from seeing my brother at the prison . . . and hell, I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but it got me thinking and . . . shit, I fucked up. Can you just open the door so I can see you? So we can talk face-­to-­face?”

She started to open her mouth several times but didn't trust herself to speak.

She felt a soft thud and risked another peek out the door. She could still see his shoulders. It looked like he had bowed his head against the door. He said something so softly, she couldn't quite understand him. She pressed her ear to the door, trying to hear, and when she finally did hear his whisper, her chest squeezed tightly.

I need you . . .

She closed her eyes, reaching deep inside herself for strength. She had to be strong. Nothing had changed. He was still that guy that didn't trust himself, that felt out of control around her. And it didn't matter what he needed. She had to consider herself and what she needed or she would, in fact, be just like her mother.

“I'll be back, Briar.” His voice rang loud and clear again. “I'm not giving up.”

Then she heard his retreating footsteps.

She turned and slid down the length of the door, hardening her heart. She would not give in to him. He'd eventually give up. She just had to resist him until he did.

HE WAITED OUTSIDE
Briar's apartment, telling himself this wasn't stalkerish. She still loved him. He knew she did. And he loved her. She couldn't have forgotten all her feelings for him in so short a time. He hadn't screwed everything up that badly.

It was barely light out. Dawn streaked the West Texas sky, but he knew she left for work this early. Sure enough, at 6:55 he spotted her coming down her stairs in her scrubs. Her hair was still damp and pulled back into a tight braid that his fingers itched to unravel.

He was out of his truck and across the parking lot, planting himself in front of her car door before she could reach her vehicle.

She came to a hard stop when she saw him there. “What are you doing?”

“I said I wasn't giving up.”

“I don't want to see you.”

“Then close your eyes. Just listen to me.”

She shook her head, her gaze skittering around like she was looking for an escape. “I'm going to be late for work. Please move.”

So polite. And scared. She looked terrified, but not the kind of terror that worried him. No, this was wariness. As though she didn't trust herself. Clearly, she didn't want him to persuade her to do anything she didn't want to do. It gave him hope. It meant at least a part of her still wanted to be with him.

“Briar,” he breathed, stepping away from the car and closing in on her. “I love you.”

Her eyes flared. “No! Don't say that. Don't you
dare
say that!”

“It's true.”

“I'm bad for you, remember?” she flung out, anger and hurt ripe in her voice. Again, it gave him hope.

He closed his eyes in a tight blink. “I said that and a lot of other stupid shit, yeah. But loving you will make me stronger. I know it now. I can love you like you deserve if you'll just let me.”

She snorted and stepped around him. “I don't have time for this.” She hit her unlock button and started to open her door.

He came behind her and shut it with the palm of his hand. “Give us a chance.” He spoke into the nape of her neck, sending tiny hairs fluttering, tickling his lips. “You said you loved me—­”

“Don't twist my words. I said I
might
love you a
little
. I was wrong.”

He turned her around, pressing his body against hers, trapping her between him and the car, concentrating on his words and struggling to ignore the distracting softness of her body. No easy task. He'd been too long from her. “Liar. You haven't stopped loving me. You're angry. I get that . . . and trying to protect yourself. I get that, too—­”

“That's right. I'm trying to protect myself from you. Now let me go.”

He leaned in, holding her gaze. “I love you,” he whispered . . . pleaded.

Something flashed in her eyes before disappearing. “I don't love
you
,” she said resolutely, so firmly. For the first time dread gnawed at the edges of his heart. Could it be too late?

“No,” he growled.

Then he kissed her.

He slanted his lips over hers and poured all his heart, all his longing, into this kiss, coaxing her to respond, to soften. “Please,” he whispered over her quivering lips. “Kiss me back, Briar. Kiss me.”

With a whimper she caved, her lips yielding to him. A shudder racked him. He slid his arms around her and lifted her up off the ground and against his arousal. He let her feel what she did to him. Her hands looped around his neck and she clung to him, still kissing him back as hot and feverishly as he kissed her.

“There,” he growled, lust and satisfaction pumping through him. “You do love me.”

She stiffened and then fought to free herself from his embrace.
Damn it.
He let her go, barely having time to look down at her flushed face before she slapped him so hard he felt the force all the way to his teeth.

He fingered his stinging cheek, gazing down at her. Her chest heaved with emotion, eyes blazing up at him. “Stay away from me and stop manipulating me. Nothing has changed. You're still the out-­of-­control animal you don't want to be. And I do
not
love you.”

Her words gouged him as effectively as a swiping claw. Like she knew they would, but he had the taste of her still on his lips. Alongside the sight of her spitting rage, it was all the confirmation he needed. She still wanted him.
Loved
him. “Yes. You do.”

She stomped her foot and let out a muffled groan. “You're crazy!”

“Just about you,” he returned, then in a more serious tone, he added, “I know I blew it, but I'll wait until you realize I'm sincere. I can be patient. I spent years in prison waiting to be free.
Waiting
, even though I didn't know it then . . . for you.”

An alarmed look crossed her face as she stubbornly shook her head. “You don't mean that . . .”

“I do. And time will prove it.” He leaned in slowly, his mouth brushing her ear as he spoke, “And once you're convinced, we're going to hole up in your bedroom for a day at least . . . where I will convince you again and again and again . . . until neither one of us can walk.”

She jerked her head away from him, her eyes bright and heated. She shook her head again, this time almost sad. Yanking open her door, she slid into her car. He stepped away before she backed out and nearly ran her tire over his foot. He watched her go, telling himself she would relent and give them another chance.

She didn't once glance back at him as she drove away.

KNOX DECIDED TO
give her a little more space before coming around again. Two more days. He thought that would be enough time for her to start to wonder if he gave up . . . maybe enough time for her to worry that he had. Maybe enough time for her to miss him.

At her apartment complex, he noticed her car was parked in its usual spot, so he took the stairs to her condo.

He knocked. “Briar?”

Nothing.

“I know you're in there. Baby, please . . .”

“She's not home.” He spun around to face Shelley. She was leaning in her open door, a ­couple of kids crowded around her, watching him with big curious eyes that looked a lot like their mother's eyes.

“Where is she?”

She considered him a long moment before answering, “Now I don't know if I should be telling you that.”

He nodded. “All right. That's fair. You're looking out for your friend. I get that.”

“Yeah, you haven't been precisely stellar boyfriend material.”

He nodded. “I know that. I'd like to make it up to her.” He paused for a breath. “I love her.”

“She mentioned you said that. She doesn't believe you, of course.”

“I'm trying to prove it to her.”

“Hmm.” Shelley eyed him. “Briar doesn't have a lot of experience with men. Not like me. She doesn't understand that men don't usually profess love. Not after they've gotten what they want, if you know what I mean.” She shot a quick glance to her children and then looked back at him, lifting her eyebrows meaningfully.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“They don't chase you down and say those three little words over and over unless they mean it.”

“I mean it.”

She nodded slowly. “I think you do.” Placing a hand on top of her little girl's head, she guided her back into the apartment.

He turned to go, assuming she was finished talking. “She's on a date with my ex-­brother-­in-­law at the Bean House. You know the place? It's a fancy little coffee shop on Peek Avenue.”

He stopped and looked back at her. “Your ex-­brother-­in-­law?”

“Yep. I set them up. My ex has a decent brother. Thought she should see what else is out there.”

He glared at her.

She winked at him. “Maybe you should pop in. Order a latte and scone.”

He'd never eaten a scone in his life. Much less a latte. “Yeah. I'll do that.”

SHELLEY WAS RIGHT.
Daniel was nice and down-­to-­earth and he smelled good. Like fresh laundry sheets. He owned a hardware store in town. They shared a plate of assorted pastries and sipped their coffees, going through all the usual first date getting-­to-­know-­you banter.

“My mother was a nurse. Worked long hours,” Daniel shared as he lifted the lid off his cup to cool the coffee.

“I work in a practice,” Briar explained. “Regular hours. Seven-­thirty to four
P.M.
I get every third Friday off, too. It's nice. A good place to work. Good ­people.”

“Well, that makes all the difference,” he said, smiling kindly. “Loving what you do.”

She smiled back at him. He really was nice. Nice looking. Steady job. So why could she only think of Knox? Why must she compare Daniel's every feature, his every expression, to Knox? Was she always going to do this? Because there was no comparison. She would never meet another man to hold up to him in the looks department. And why did sitting here with this guy feel like she was betraying him? Knox and she weren't together. She owed him nothing.

“Hello, there.” And suddenly Knox was there, pulling up a chair and sitting beside her and Daniel. She blinked for a moment, wondering if her thoughts had conjured him. Was she totally losing it?

But Daniel gaped, too. So this was happening. This was real. Knox was here and crashing her date.

It took her a moment to find her voice. “Knox! What are you doing here?”

“Joining you and . . .” He extended his hand to Daniel. “Hello. Knox Callaghan.”

Daniel returned the handshake. “Daniel Ortega.”

“Joining you and Daniel,” he finished with an easy smile that was so unlike his usual austere self.

“Leave now, Knox!”

“Excuse me, what's happening here?” Daniel gestured at the three of them.

“You see, Daniel,” Knox began, leaning back in his chair and draping an arm over the back of her chair. “I only think it's fair to let you know up front that I'm in love with Briar. I messed things up, and she's not ready to forgive me yet, but I'm going to do everything in my power to win her back.”

“It has nothing to do with forgiveness, you jackass. I just don't want you. I don't love you.”

Knox slanted a look at Daniel that was so knowing and smug that she wanted to scream. “I think she does.”

Daniel replaced the lid back on his cup. “I see,” he said, as though he did in fact see.

She reached for his arm. “Daniel, I'm so sorry. This is really embarrassing.”

“No, not at all. This stuff happens. It took me a long time to get over my ex and be ready to even date.” He pushed back his chair. “Clearly, you're not in a place where you're ready, Briar. Good luck.” He glanced at Knox. “Nice meeting you.”

Knox shook his hand again. “You, too.”

“I trust you can see she gets back home.”

“Not a problem.”

Briar gaped and then dropped her head into her hands. “This isn't happening.” She looked up and glared at the back of Daniel as he walked away.

“Nice guy.”

She turned her wrath on Knox. “Yeah. He was. Thanks for screwing that up.”

Knox helped himself to one of the scones on the table. “C'mon. That would have gone nowhere. You still want me.”