Headed for Trouble (The McKay Family #1) (25 page)

They missed me
. Chilled now, she moved back. Ian’s hand fell away. She turned back to the window of the bookstore, thinking of long, empty years, how long she’d gone with little more than a phone call, thought of the letters—

Her backpack. Anger gnawed at her, how the loss of that one simple item was indescribable.

They wrote me.
They’d told her they had and she believed them, but despite that, there was a tiny knot of hurt still lodged in her heart. Keenly aware of Ian’s gaze, she made herself focus. “I’m not leaving.” She turned and studied the town, the busy main strip, the café across the street and the new restaurant next door. “This is home. I never should have left.”

“Why did you?”

“Haven’t you heard?” She cocked a brow at him.

“Not much.” He shrugged and her mouth went dry as the movement stretched his T-shirt over that amazing body. “People talk, but people don’t often know shite. I want to hear why you left—from
you
.”

“That’s a long story.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she took a step away from him. A police cruiser came by and she nodded at Gideon as he glanced her way. He turned in by the courthouse, just down the block and her gut twisted. She’d told Moira and Brannon what she thought they needed to know. But Gideon needed to know all of it—if she could handle telling him.

“Is there something between you?”

“What?” Confused by the edge she heard in his voice, she looked up at Ian.

“Marshall. You’re staring rather hard at his car.”

Laughter burst out of her. Some of the tension pent up inside her drained away, carried away by the fit of giggles. “Me…” Another snort of laughter kept her from getting it out. Finally, she was able to say it with just a few chuckles. “Me and Gideon? Are you serious?”

“If that’s your reaction, I guess the answer is no.” He took another step closer.

The air around her got hotter, tighter. Swallowing the laughter that still bubbled in her throat, she met Ian’s eyes. Wow. He had incredibly beautiful eyes. In that moment, they seemed to burn hot and the heat she’d felt between them earlier rekindled.

She barely knew this man—had met him just a couple of times, but he tugged reactions out of her that she wasn’t sure she could handle.

“Look,” she said, fumbling for the words. She started to knot her fingers together. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she stopped and shoved them into her back pockets. How many times had she done that in the past? When William yelled at her, what had she done but stood there and twisted her hands and wished she had the courage to just stand
up
to him. To
leave
.

“Aye,” Ian said, drawing her back to the present. His voice was low and rough. “I’m looking at you.”

It came out as
Aye, ’m lookin a ya
and the words rolled over her like silken velvet. She wanted to roll herself up in that voice, wrap it around herself. And run away. Both. At the very same time.

Blood rushed to her face. “You’re one huge walking orgasm,” she blurted out.

Ian blinked.

And then, to her surprise, a grin tugged up the corners of his lips. “I must say, that’s the first time I’ve ever been accused of that.” He stroked a hand down his beard and the grin went from being pensive to pleased. “I can’t say I mind.”

Groaning, Neve pressed one hand to her brow.

“Yeah, well,
that
surprises me not at all.” She blew out a breath again, humiliation churning inside her. She couldn’t believe she’d said that. Okay, so yes, she’d been
thinking
it. She’d stopped blurting out what she thought ages ago, though.

“William,” she whispered. It hit her like a weight in the chest and she blew out a slow, careful breath. He’d all but beaten the impulsiveness out of her. Not through force, but with cutting insults and cold gestures.

A hand brushed across her cheek.

Instinctively, she flinched.

“You keep going away.”

Never looked back up at him.

The intensity of his eyes lingered on her face.

“I can’t help it. Some things … pull at me.”

Ian reached up and cupped her cheek.

She found herself turning her face into his hand and it
felt so good
. The strength of a man’s hand, gentle on her skin—she’d forgotten how that could feel. It felt
good
. “That’s when you just have to pull back harder.” Then he dipped his head and said, “And if that doesn’t do it, you can always just beat the bloody hell out of it … or him.”

*   *   *

The bruised look on her face was ripping the guts right out of him. Ian didn’t know what he was going to do if he kept having to see it—the need to do something violent and bloody rode him hard, but the problem? The man who’d put that look on her face wasn’t around for him to tear apart.

But Ian needed to see her smile again.

So he shifted his grip to her chin and tilted her head back. “So, when you get that chance, you be sure to let me know, because I think I’d love to have a chance to … hold him for you.”

He made sure to keep the pause there lengthy and deliberate.

It worked, too, because Neve’s pretty green eyes slid up to his and a smile bowed her lips. Oh, but he wanted to taste that mouth again. Wanted it more than he thought he’d ever wanted anything.

“You just want to hold him for me?”

“It seems like the thing for a gentleman to do.” He lowered his hand and took a step back. If he didn’t move back, he’d very well be moving forward in just a moment. The scent of her skin was going to drive him mad.

“You very much come off as a gentleman.” She glanced away as she said it.

“Oh, I am. Very much so. And as a gentleman, it strikes me that you probably haven’t had much of a chance to see how much things have changed since you’ve been gone. Why don’t we go have lunch … I’ll catch you up on some of the things Brannon’s been up to.”

She went to say
no
. He could even see her lips forming the
N
.

And he cursed himself for having no patience as he closed that distance between them back up. “Do you really just want to go back home? Stay locked inside Ferry the rest of the day?”

Neve narrowed her eyes.

And then, to his utter shock, she made a face. “Well, maybe I could use some lunch.”

*   *   *

“This place has always had the best burgers.”

Ian studied her over the massive sandwich she held, reaching out to steal one of her onion rings. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh?” She wiped her mouth with the napkin and leaned back, the warm summer sunshine beating down on her back. They could have sat under the awning but it was crowded at the diner and Ian had asked if she’d mind taking one of the tables farther out.

“Yes.” He crunched down on the onion ring and winked at her. “Here I was thinking that the best burgers were at my place.”

“Nope.” She shook her head. It hit her then, how relaxed she felt, how easy it was to sit there and be with him. “But you’ve got the best fish and chips.”

“Nice to know I’m doing that much right,” he said wryly. His lips curved in a smile.

At the sight of it, Neve found herself thinking about that night. When he’d kissed her, the feel of his beard, the way his hands had glided over her skin, rough in all the best ways.

A rough sigh came from the man across the table and Neve flicked her eyes up to his.

The heat there devastated her.

Neve lowered her eyes back to the table.

Since she wasn’t looking at him, she wasn’t prepared when his fingers brushed over the back of her hand. Such a simple touch. How could it possible affect her like this?

“The look on your face is going to undo me.”

She swallowed and dragged her eyes back up to his.

“I want to touch you.”

“You are.” She managed to smile at him although it was strained. She didn’t want to
smile
. She wanted to climb across the table and get in his lap, cuddle up, and rub against him like a cat. Then she wanted to curl around him and feel him inside her.

Sex hadn’t ever felt so necessary, so vital.

She
needed
him.

“Neve. I already need a few minutes before I can stand without making a spectacle of myself. Either stop looking at me or we’ll be sitting here for an age.”

She laughed nervously. “What else am I supposed to look at?”

“Well.” He blew out a breath and tipped his head back, staring up at the sky that stretched out over them like a bright blue bowl. “I can’t really say. Because even if you’re not looking at me, I’m looking at you. I need to think about something boring. Be boring, will you, Neve?”

“Be boring?” She pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh. “Just how am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know.” He glanced back at her, the thick fringe of his lashes shielding his eyes. “I can hear the smile in your voice and even that makes me want to kiss you.”

Something giddy and warm unfurled inside her and she found herself overcome by the need to move closer to him. To curl up in his lap and wrap her arms around him. Kiss him, maybe. Or just hold him.

Her voice was breathless when she asked him, “Should I just stop talking?”

*   *   *

She’d have to stop breathing before he thought he could handle being this close and not wanting her. No.
He
would have to stop breathing.

As she continued to watch him, the remnants of her laughter still gleaming in her eyes, Ian felt his heart do a slow roll in his chest. He’d been an idiot. Thinking that he could actually
not
give into the emotions twisting through him when he looked at her, when he thought about her.

He’d never been one to believe in love at first sight—had never even wanted to look for love himself.

Mum had been a single parent after the sad, pathetic bastard who’d fathered him took off when he’d learned he’d be a father. After she’d died, he’d spent the last few years before university with his grandparents and hadn’t they been a shining example of love? The old man had beat his grandmother, and often.

Love, in Ian’s opinion, wasn’t something to be sought. It was a pain in the backside.

Yet sitting there with Neve, he couldn’t deny the odd way his heart ached, or the fact that each morning, he woke up thinking about her. They barely knew each other, true, but some part of him felt like he’d known her for always—that he’d been
waiting
for her for always.

“Talk,” he said softly. “Talk with me, laugh with me.”

The humor in her eyes faded away, replaced by an emotion that made his chest ache.

Leaning forward, he caught her fingers and lifted them to his lips, kissing the tips. “What are you doing to me, Neve McKay?”

Her tongue slid out and she wet her lips. Easing closer, he reached up and traced the lower curve of her mouth with his thumb.

Her lashes fluttered down low and he had to fight the urge to replace his thumb with his mouth.

This wasn’t the place.

And despite the fact that he wanted her like he wanted his next breath, he didn’t want to rush this.

Couldn’t rush it—he had a feeling this could be the most important thing in his life and he had to be patient.

Because he was aware if this continued, he’d end up in the exact same position he’d described to her, he steered the conversation into what he hoped was fairly neutral territory—he asked about her time in Scotland.

They finished up their meal as she told him about Carrbridge and he smiled when she mentioned the quaint bridge, but as they started to walk down the street that led to the river, his mood turned grim.

“Aviemore?” he murmured. “Aye. I know it.”

“Been there?”

He shrugged. “I lived there for a few years.”

“Did you?” Her head swung toward his, eyes curious.

He wanted to shrug it off, but after all she’d shared, how could he say nothing.

Spotting a bench, he sat, tugging her down to sit with him.

Somebody jogged by and he studied them for a moment and then looked back at Neve. “Some of you are mad, running in this heat.”

She lifted a brow. “It gets a lot worse here.”

Ian rolled his eyes. Then, leaning forward, he braced his elbows on his knees. Gaze locked on the lazy waters of the Mississippi, he said, “We lived in Braemar. Me and my mum. Beautiful village, up in the Cairngorms. So cold at times, you’d think your lungs would freeze right through, but you’ve never seen a place so lovely. Then Mum died when I was thirteen. Cancer. It happened fast. I had to go live with her parents in Aviemore. My gran … she was a kind lady. But scared. If my grandfather wasn’t there, things weren’t so bad, see? She liked to fuss over me and we’d play cards and talk, or she’d read and I’d watch the telly. But once it was time for him to be getting on home, well, things would change. He was a bastard, that one. A cruel one, too. If the meal wasn’t on the table by five, then Gran would catch the wrong side of his fist. Only happened twice and once was because she had to take me to see the doctor. I’d fallen, broken my arm. Not that he cared.” He shrugged, staring off into the distance, but it wasn’t the grass or the lazy waters of the river he saw. It was his gran’s face. “He was a drunk, too. A mean one. If she didn’t move fast enough or if she did, he’d take it out on her. As I got older, I’d pick a fight with him just to spare her, but she hated that. I hated him. The day before I turned eighteen, I came home and found…” He sucked in his breath and stared up at the sky through the branches overhead. “She’d left a letter. Saying she loved me, truly. But now that I was a man, I didn’t need her and she couldn’t do it anymore. She was on her bed, like she was just sleeping. And she was smiling.”

“Ian…”

When she touched his arm, he caught her hand. Turning his head, he met her gaze. “I knew somebody had hurt you. Not that first night, perhaps, but definitely the next day when you came back to the pub. I knew it. Something about the way your eyes looked. You had the same fear in your eyes. I want to break him, Neve.”