Bring Me Home (4 page)

Chapter Four

“My baby's all grown up and fucking on pic-i-nic tables!” Chloe fake sniffled. “I've never been so proud.”

“It's half your fault.”

“Really?” Chloe drawled. “Like you didn't want your thighs perched on his chin the second you saw him.”

“I'll admit to that, but I blame you for putting the follow-through thought in my head in the first place.” Miya pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “You're a terrible influence.”

“Guilty as charged.” Chloe settled back against the fence and pulled her legs up, wrapping her arms around her knees. She rested her chin on them with a huge smile. “And not an ounce remorseful. I'm glad you screwed him. Probably did you both a world of good.”

“How in the world could it be a good thing?” Miya twirled a blade of grass between her fingers, watching the sun reflect off its waxy sheen. “Do you have any idea the problems this could stir up?”

“How?” Chloe slid her sunglasses to the top of her head, blue eyes sparkling in the bright Texas sun. “You guys screwed the hell out of each other, battled it out over the past and you're leaving in two days. What could possibly happen?”

Before Miya could start the list of oh-so-wrong tracks a one-nighter with Shawn could take, her friend's eyes rounded. “Oh ho, please tell me that gorgeous creature coming our way is single, straight and not an illusion created by this damn heat.”

The sudden shift in conversation threw Miya off balance. She followed her friend's wide-eyed stare. Even after being away, the slow, sexy canter of a real cowboy still gave her goose bumps. The one walking in their direction was about as sexy as they got. Nick Westing strode across the field separating her father's barn from the house. His cowboy hat sat low on his head, but she knew those eyes would sparkle the moment he smiled. She jumped to her feet and rushed forward into his waiting arms. “Nick! Oh my goodness it's so good to see you.”

He crushed her in a huge hug, twirling her around several times with a deep throaty laugh that made her feel at home. “I barely saw you at Casey's wedding. Figured I'd get a chance to see ya here.”

Nick was one of her favorite people in the world. They'd been close friends since she could remember. He'd dated, screwed and suckered just about every friend she'd ever had, and she loved him still. Maybe it was because Nick was just Nick. He didn't play games. Half of her friends had come back crying that he'd used them for one night, but she'd always known the truth. Nick Westing warned every woman that crawled into his bed. They knew what they were signing up for well before they hopped on his one-night ride.

In all honesty, she couldn't blame any of them for suckering for his spiel and still wanting more come morning. Nick was erotic-dream-come-true gorgeous. She knew those chocolate brown eyes and nearly black hair were a deadly combination. Add to that his impressive height and ridiculously carved body, and he was the total package. At the moment, his unbuttoned plaid shirt revealed a tanned, chiseled chest and a delectable torso. That damned carved V at his hips that disappeared into his jeans was just oh-so-right and wrong at once. No one should be as gorgeous as Nick. And his half-brother Cash was just as delicious. Hell, if she hadn't shared a sandbox with them since the age of three, either brother's crooked smile might have melted her own heart.

“I've missed ya,” he added, glancing in Chloe's direction.

“I missed you too, handsome. Come meet my best friend.” Grabbing his hand, she drew him to the fence where Chloe sat. “Nick this is—”

Chloe was on her feet studying Nick with unabashed interest. She held her hand out. “Chloe Garrison.”

“Nick Westing.” He took her hand and spun her around with a low whistle. “Mmmm. Doll, all I need to know is where you came from and how long you plan to stay on.”

Miya rolled her eyes. Dead End wasn't the only thing that hadn't changed. “Nick, please behave.”

“Don't I always?”

Before Miya could respond, Nick winked at Chloe.

“New York,” Chloe offered, “And two days. Though I'll admit Texas just got a bit more interesting, so we'll have to see what it has to offer as incentive to stay
on
a bit longer.”

“I think we could find any number of distractions to convince you,” Nick offered before flashing Miya a mischievous smile. “You always were my favorite gal. Now you're right up there with an angel for bringing this doll to meet me.”

“You're so very welcome.” Miya crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “And yes, I'm great. Doing well in the big bad city, and so far my time home has been pleasant, thanks for asking.”

He nodded absently. “Sure is good to see you.”

“So what are your plans for the night, cowboy?” Chloe asked.

“You.”

The long, slow perusal of his stare made Chloe giggle.

Giggle!?! Chloe? Giggling?

Miya rolled her eyes, but there was something in Chloe's gaze that made her pause. “You two have the subtlety of Ma's rabbits.”

They both laughed, but their eyes never left each other's. She hadn't considered setting the two up, but now she realized they were equals. Players to the core. It would be interesting to see who came out on top. With a laugh, Miya walked away. “I'm going to see if my father needs any help. Let me know when you're ready, Chloe.”

“Your dad's out back with Shawn unloading the hay,” Nick called out.

Her steps faltered, and she swung back to meet his gaze. Nick had been her friend for as long as she could remember, and she didn't miss the slight frown marring his handsome face.

Question was… What did that frown mean?

“What's he doing here?” she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

“He had deliveries to make.” Nick shrugged and looped an arm around Chloe's shoulder. “Said after yesterday, he figured he should swing by to check in on yer folks.”

“Is that something he does often?” She couldn't imagine her mother not mentioning a visit from Shawn. The woman called on a weekly basis. If she thought Shawn would be yet another way to try to convince her daughter to come home, Miya was sure she would have used it.

Chloe whispered something in Nick's ear and he smiled hugely. Returning his attention to Miya, he adjusted his dusty hat. “From time to time.”

Then Nick's comment replayed in her mind.
After yesterday?
He'd told Nick about their—nostalgic fling? And he must have thought she'd spilled to her parents? That didn't make sense. “What do you mean,
after yesterday
?”

Nick cringed. “You need to talk to Shawn.”

“And that's just what she's going to do while we go find some of those distractions you were talking about,” Chloe hinted.

Nick's gaze followed as Chloe walked across the yard.

Miya shot him a scowl and stormed toward the old barn at the side of the house. She heard her father's and Shawn's deep voices as she neared and slowed to eavesdrop on their conversation. Their shadows shifted over the ground as they unloaded bales of hay from the truck. They discussed the weather and local events, nothing too exciting, until her father stopped suddenly.

“I 'preciate the help, Shawn.” The gravelly tenor of her father's voice sounded tired. “Ma has an apple pie for you to take home.”

“You folks keep feedin' me every time I show up, and I'm going to be five hundred pounds.”

“Wait 'til you're my age and see what a good woman's cookin' does to ya.” Her father chuckled. A moment of silence followed. By the motions of their shadows, she could tell her father leaned against the truck. “You talked to Miya yet?”

“Yes,” Shawn answered. “And she's still stubborn as hell.”

“That's a fact. Just like her momma.” Her father chuckled. “You plan on tryin' to get her to stay on?”

Shawn's shadow stiffened. “Sir, we haven't ever spoken about what happened, and I've always appreciated that fact.”

“That yer way of tellin' me it ain't my business?”

“No, sir.” Shawn leaned against the truck as well, and she edged closer until she could make out his profile. He'd removed his shirt, revealing smooth tanned skin that glistened under the brutal heat of the midday sun. A simple glance set her pulse to a frantic race, infusing her mind with the memory of touching his hard body the night before. “I appreciate your willingness to continue to speak with me. Even after I hurt your daughter.”

So he'd admit it to her father, but not to her. What the fuck?

“Always wondered what happened 'tween you two.” She could see her father's profile now too, and he removed his hat to swipe his forehead with a handkerchief. “Figured it weren't my place to question.”

“You'd have to ask Miya.” Shawn grabbed another bale from the side of the truck and flung it to the ground. “And honestly, I wouldn't have known what to tell you. I never understood her leavin'.”

She didn't miss the past tense of the comment. As if he understood now…

Her father's gaze wandered to the house where the scent of apple pie drifted from the windows. “Seems to me, you only got a little time to figure it all out.”

Miya bit back a curse. The last thing she wanted was for her father to encourage him. She was about to step out from the side of the barn when Shawn placed a hand on his shoulder. “You should rest. Go on up to the house. I'll finish this.”

When her father nodded and eased away from the truck with a heavy groan, her legs nearly gave out. She hadn't noticed the pallor, or the strain etched on the hard lines of his face. He wore his sixty years well. Tall, with broad shoulders, George Jackson had always been busy with their family farm. Years of daily labor and the physical demands of running a farm had streamlined his body. He'd been her hero for as long as she remembered, and now the salt and pepper of his hair, and the deep lines around his eyes were more noticeable. Much more so than when she'd left.

His slow gait was marred by a slight limp, and she pressed a fist to her mouth to hold back a cry. How had her father aged so quickly? Four years wasn't that long. She searched her mind for the memories of their times together. She'd never noticed him slowing down.

“He's fine.” Shawn's voice broke through the memories flittering in her head. “Just getting on in years.”

With concern for her father pressing in on her, she couldn't feel embarrassed at being caught listening. “I don't know how it happened so quickly. He's never left a job unfinished.”

Shawn hooked another bale of hay and maneuvered it into the barn. “Lot can change in four years.”

“We're talking about my dad. Not us.” She followed him into the cooler recesses of the barn. A huge row of hay bales lined the farthest side of the barn. “But thank you for helping him.”

“No thanks needed.” Every muscle strained as he lifted the bale into place. “Your folks are good people, and your Ma was worried when he fell after the reception. I was just in the right place at the right time.”

“Wait, what?” Miya watched her father enter the house.

He walked past her to grab another bale. “I guess he tripped. I'd stopped by to congratulate your sister on her wedding and your Ma asked me to look at his ankle. I figured she would have told you.”

“She didn't.” Miya took a deep breath to ease the guilt clawing at her throat. She was home, and she still didn't see what was right in front of her. “I should be thanking you.”

He shook his head and adjusted his hat. “Don't need it. I did what anyone would do. They're my neighbors.”

He knocked his gloves against his jeans a couple times before swiping at the hay clinging to his body. A few stray pieces clung to his hair and sweat-dampened skin, and she walked over to pluck them away. “Still. It's not your responsibility and I want you to know I appreciate it.”

He barely moved, at least it seemed that way. Must have been more than she realized since somehow, she found herself backed up against one of the tall support beams bracing the sagging rafters. A sinful smile creased his dust-streaked face. “It's my pleasure.”

The words rolled off his tongue straight into her stomach. She'd tangled with rattlers with less trepidation than she experienced at that moment. If he'd just look away, she might be able to catch her breath. At least enough to stop the dizzying pulse racking her veins. “Nick looks good.”

“Does he?” He settled one long arm above her head on the beam. “Hadn't noticed. But then I ain't been able to notice much since you've been home.”

Nothing like spreading fresh honey on home-baked bread. Swearing off further sex with Shawn had been easy last night. But knowing he couldn't stop thinking about her evened the odds. She'd spent the night riddled with images and sensations of his touch. Damn him.

His scent enveloped her. Male, earthy, mingling with the natural scent of the hay. “You shouldn't say things like that. I told you last night that I didn't want—”

“You made it pretty clear what you wanted last night.” He jerked his gloves on and headed for the door. “I respect that, but it doesn't change what
I
want.”

She followed, unable to let the conversation end. She must have developed a sick sense of self-torture while living in New York. Otherwise, she'd let it go. They broke out into the bright sunlight and he hopped into the back of the truck. She shaded her eyes to watch him work. “And what exactly is it you want?”

Several bales of hay landed at her feet before he leaned his elbows on the wooden side rails. “You. But for now, I'd settle for some help.” He glanced around. “Any idea where Nick got off to?”

While she couldn't ignore the spark his want caused in her stomach, she appreciated him letting it go. “Getting off is probably more like it.”