Causing Havoc (27 page)

"Yeah." Nasty and manipulative. Had Lorna ever told the girls how their parents had died? Not just about the car wreck, but the whole shebang? He doubted it.

Should he tel them?

"She must make Jacki and Cam miserable, don't you think?"

Dean tried to ignore Gregor—but he hit a nerve, damn it. For their part, Cam and Jacki seemed to

take Lorna in stride, as if they were used to her acerbic attitude on life and expected nothing

different.

And that bothered Dean more than anything else could.

"Why's the old broad so sour anyway?" Gregor asked. When Dean didn't answer, he tried prodding

him. "Hey, Havoc? Got any ideas?"

Slowly, Dean laid down his scraper and gave Gregor his ful attention. "Ideas? Yeah, I have an idea."

Gregor's back straightened. "Why do I have the feelin' that I won't like your idea?"

"Maybe because it has to do with me tossing your muscle-bound butt off the roof."

Grinning like a fool, Gregor peered over the side to the ground below. "I'd rather you didn't." He swung his gaze back to Dean. "You know, I outweigh you by more than thirty-five pounds, I'm tal er,

and you're beat al to hel and back already."

"So?" If Dean decided to toss him, Gregor would go over. No doubt about it.

"So little sis is down there, and she'l think I'm a pussy if I let you throw me over. Can't have her getting' the wrong impression, now can I? Besides, imagine the mess it'l make of their nice lawn. A

mess you'd probably end up fixin' since you've morphed into a domesticated family man."

That did it.

Shooting to his feet, Dean took a hard, aggressive step forward. "How about you shut up and mind

your own goddamn business? Or do I need to shut you up?"

"Hey, chil out, already." Holding up both hands in surrender, Gregor waited for Dean to subside.

"Jesus, man, relax why doncha?"

Feeling like a raging idiot, Dean cursed and loosened his stance. "I'm relaxed."

Gregor grunted over that gigantic lie. "It's the truth, Havoc. I liked you better when you were laughin'."

He gathered up the pile of shingles and crossed the roof to the front of the house to dump them.

Muttering to himself, Dean again wiped the sweat from his face and tried to ignore his prickling guilt.

Gregor was a jerk, but he didn't deserve to be the brunt of Dean's bad humor.

Luckily, unlike women, men didn't require apologies to let shit go.

When Gregor returned, Dean said easily, "Ready to eat?"

"Sure. If you think we're done here for now."

Dean surveyed the roof. There were stil lots of tiny pieces of shingle stuck to the wood and many

roofing nails that needed to be removed or pounded down. The plumbing vent stack had an old metal

flashing around it, sealed with gobs of roofing tar. Before he'd lay the new shingles, he'd remove that

and scrape off the tar.

But al that could wait.

"Yeah, we can get back on this after a break."

"Thank God. I'm so hungry, my ribs are clankin' together." Gregor went halfway down the ladder and then jumped the rest of the way. The second his feet hit the ground, he looked for Jacki.

She was nowhere to be seen—but Dean did zero in on Eve, watching as she went into the house

again. That was her third trip inside. Each time she came back out, she looked more listless.

He didn't like it.

Dean sat in the shade of a tree, drinking iced tea when Eve returned this time. She looked so

uncomfortable, she didn't notice him, and that bothered him, too.

He sat his drink aside and met her halfway across the lawn. She seemed lost in thought, her head

bowed, her pace slow. Dean halted her by putting the back of his hand to her forehead.

Surprised blue eyes lifted and locked with his. "What are you doing?"

Dean frowned. "You okay?"

Wary, she pul ed away from him. "Yeah, why?"

She felt hot, Dean decided, but not real y feverish. Stil , she looked beat, not at al like the dynamic

woman he knew. "Why don't you go on home and rest up? You should probably stay out of this heat."

A frown tugged at her brows. "I'm fine."

"You don't feel wel ."

Her shoulders squared in protest. "Says who?"

Why did she sound so prickly? Dean propped his hands on his hips. "I say."

"Wel you're wrong, because I'm not sick and I'm not going home. Not just yet anyway. After we eat, I do have to go home to change. I have an appointment early this evening."

"What kind of appointment?"

The way she pokered up, he might as wel have demanded that she hand over her firstborn. "I'm an

event coordinator, Dean, remember?" She slapped a lock of hair away from her face with more force

than necessary, then crossed her arms. "I have to meet with a potential client."

Dean chewed over what she said, compared to how she acted, and decided he didn't like it a bit.

Taking her arm, he said, "Come with me."

Eve dug her bare heels into the soft lawn. "Come with you where? What are you doing?"

Dean kept walking, towing her along toward the back of the yard near the woods. As a boy, he'd

gone there often just to be alone, to think. It afforded some necessary privacy.

Cam cal ed out, "Dean? Eve? Where are you going? The food's ready."

Dean yel ed back, "Give us a minute."

"I'm hungry, damn it." Eve trotted along, barely keeping up with his long strides. "Dean," she hissed.

"You're causing a scene."

"So?" They reached the woods and Dean urged her behind a thick oak tree.

"Oh, that's right," Eve practical y sneered. "You don't care what anyone thinks, do you?"

Dean sighed. Whatever bothered her, it must be something substantial for her to be so bitchy. He

intended to find out what and then he'd fix it.

"Tel me what's wrong, Eve." When she just pinched her mouth together, he cupped her face and

kissed the end of her very cute nose. "Come on, honey," he cajoled. "Talk to me."

Maybe the endearment did the trick, because she gave up her pique and slumped back against the

tree in defeat. For long, agonizing seconds, she stared down at a cool covering of green moss

growing over a tree root.

Final y her gaze lifted to his. "I have some bad news, Dean. You're not going to like it."

Alarm sank its icy claws into Dean's stomach. He hardened himself, locking his jaw, tensing his

muscles, preparing for the worst. Bracing one arm on the tree behind Eve. he dominated her space.

"Tell me."

"Wel ." Eve looked away, then peeked up at him again. She frowned. "It'd be easier to do this if you weren't glaring at me like that."

He fucking wel didn't want to make it easy on her. ""Say what you have to say, damn it."

In defiance, she crossed her arms. "It sort of changes your plans for tonight."

The oxygen left Dean's lungs. His plans for the night? That's what made her look so il ?

To be certain they were on the same wave, he asked, "My plans for sex? That's what we're talking

about here, right?"

She nodded miserably. "Yes. Mother Nature has come cal ing."

Mother Nature?

She had her
period?
That was it?

A shock of humor went through Dean, loosening his tensed muscles, lifting the instinctive rage

against rejection. He wanted to laugh, and even more than that, he wanted to kiss her sil y.

But he wasn't a dummy. He put his other hand on the tree, too, caging her in. Poor thing. Eve looked

tired and cranky and ready to hide herself away.

She avoided his gaze, but he could see her frown—and the blush of color on her face.

After choking down his amusement, Dean fashioned an expression of concern. "You're having your

monthly?"

"Yes," was her clipped reply.

This close, he could smel the sun-warmed scent of her hair and skin. Combined with her very

womanly emotions, it affected him in a whol y sexual way. "And that's making you feel bad?"

Blue eyes came up to clash with his. "Why do you ask?"

Uh oh. Tiptoe careful y, he warned himself. "It's just that you're not as ... animated as usual." And you're downright mean, too—but Dean kept that observation to himself.

She slumped with a groan. "If you want the truth, I feel like crap. I have awful PMS. My periods last a week, I bloat, and yeah, I feel drained."

A
week?
Dean felt his own groan struggle to get free. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too." Her voice lowered. She dropped her forehead to his sternum. "I was real y looking forward to tonight."

Gently, Dean tipped up her chin. "I'm not the squeamish type, honey. And there are plenty of ways

—"

"Forget it." Eyes wide, Eve attempted to shove him away, realized he didn't plan to budge, and

settled on thrusting her face up close to his. "I am squeamish, but even if I wasn't, I'm not up for it.

Trust me on this, Dean, I am not good company."

No sex, huh? To Dean's surprise, he realized that he just plain didn't care. But how to convince her?

Being a gentleman about it wouldn't do. She'd tel him to get lost, and he refused to do that.

Again, he tipped up her chin so she looked at him. "You owe me, Eve."

"What?"

"We had a bet, lady. You lost, so I'm coming over." She looked so volatile at that, Dean stepped back out of reach. But he didn't relent. "If you want to be grouchy and sleep, that's okay. I can take it.

But you can't cancel on me."

"I meant what I said. No sex."

"I'm not deaf. I heard you. I'l wait until you're ready." Dean held his ground. "But I'm stil coming over."

Something, maybe relief, flashed over Eve's face before she crossed her arms and turned her stiff

back on him. "Fine," she snapped. "Don't listen to me. Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Dean took in her chiseled posture, the severe stiffness of her shoulders. Even her rejections fil ed

him with warmth, tenderness, and the purest pleasure.

So odd.

He'd be celibate for several days, but the grin came anyway. "You're wasting your time, honey." He bent and kissed the nape of her neck—-and felt her shiver. "There's something else you should know

about me."

She peeked over her shoulder at him, her brows arched in question.

Dean said, "I don't scare easily."

Their gazes held for a long moment before Eve again turned away.

No, Dean decided, Eve couldn't scare him away—not when he wanted something, and for whatever

reason, he wanted
her.
Not just sex. Not any woman.

Eve.

Now. Tonight. And tomorrow.

With or without sex.

And, damn it, he had no reason at al to pick that apart. He'd just go with it and enjoy himself, and in

the process, he'd bring Eve enjoyment, too.

* * *

countertop of the front desk, staring into a computer screen. He knew Roger owned and operated the

place, but this was the first time he'd seen him there.

He had a feeling that wasn't a coincidence.

A little slow in the awareness department, it took Roger a good ful minute before he felt Dean's

stare. When he looked up and saw Dean watching him, he literal y jerked. Surprise gave way to

determination.

Circling out from behind the counter, Roger headed for him. "Dean. Got a minute?"

Just to be a prick, Dean glanced at his watch. "Maybe one. I need to shower and change and get

over to Eve's."

Irritation compressed Roger's mouth for an instant. "I see." He formed a resentful smile. "You two are practical y inseparable already."

"You have about forty seconds left."

Green eyes flinched with anger. "Fine. Could we step into my office? It's more private."

Roger started away but had to turn back when Dean said, "Here wil do."

Since they stood in the center of the lobby with no chance for privacy, Roger inhaled sharply. He

started to rein himself in, but then burst out, "Fuck it." After one big aggressive step toward Dean, he said, "I'l cut to the chase."

"Yeah." Dean folded his arms over his chest and leaned into the wal . "You do that."

"I want to know what you're doing in Harmony, how long you'l be here, and what the hel you're

planning with Cam."

Seeing no reason not to tel him, Dean shrugged. "I'm here because Cam invited me. I don't yet

know how long I'l be here. But while I'm here, I hope to help Cam get back on track."

"What does that mean, 'back on track'?"

"She's in debt. The house needs work. I haven't entirely thought it through, so I don't know to what

extent I'l get involved, but I plan to help her with both circumstances." Dean watched Roger, waiting to see how he'd react to that news.

Visibly frustrated, Roger ran a hand through his blond hair, leaving it less styled, and making himself

appear almost human. "I was going to help her," he said more to himself than to Dean.

Right. But for what purpose? Dean wondered. He'd always been a good judge of character, and

everything about Roger screamed suspicion. No man who flaunted his money the way Roger did

could be trusted to care about and understand the real y important things in life.

No man who bul ied others would be compassionate enough, gentle and caring enough for his sis^

—

Whoa. Hold the phone.

Staring at Roger, Dean literal y backed away—until he caught himself. No fucking way would he let

himself start thinking in terms of... He couldn't even form the thought without a lot of wariness.

But, damn it, he had to face facts. In speed-of-light time, he was starting to feel like a ... big brother.

Wel , shit.

Roger gave him a curious frown, and Dean cut him short by saying, "Is that it? Because I have