I Run to You (31 page)

“I’m not wearing any,” she heard him retort
before the door clicked.

Back in her room, Brook fell heavily onto the
bed.

It was only 10.00 PM. Now—she was getting
mentally too wound up. Coy was in the bathroom awhile.

She heard him exit. Her door was open enough
to overhear him in the kitchen next, and then the doors to the back
deck sliding open.

Wadding the pillow under her chin, she tried
to empty her mind. Eventually she rolled to her back, pushed up off
the bed, and padded out.

The smell of coffee brewing met her in the
kitchen. She grabbed a mug and stole a cup, her eyes finding Coy
too easily in the moonbeams. Shirtless, barefoot, in those too
worn, too low-riding jeans… looking like beefcake by moonlight.

He was sprawled in a lounger, one knee up and
the other foot on the deck floor, cup on his thigh—apparently
looking up at the sky.

She grunted and walked quietly that way,
stepping out, noticing him turn his head to watch her. Taking
another slant back chair, she seated herself angled toward him.

“Am I keeping you awake?”

Yes. “No,” she murmured. “I don’t have to be
in early anyway.”

He scanned visually over her.

Brook would rather not have noticed all the
inflexible muscle and sunbaked skin on him either.

Moonlight was eeevil, that way. It gave one a
sense of intimacy and too, faux sense of masking ones
expression.

“We’ve booked up every weekend at the Mill,”
he said in an obvious attempt to distract them both.

“That’s fantastic. You do that part of the
business?”

“Yeah. We will take what we learned from
tonight and improve as we go. They’ll have some free shows on
weekdays.” He reached up, pinched the bridge of his nose a moment.
Then was back to looking over her moon-bathed face as he talked.
“Y’all will get some bookings out of tonight.”

Thinking of Karla haunting her steps—never
knowing what she’ll pull or where she would be, Brook found some of
her excitement dimming. And, resented it.

Instead of talking about Karla though, she
said, “Jordan deserves someone hearing her…. She’s bigger than just
being in a local band.”

“Yeah. I think everyone recognizes that. Word
of mouth too. It will happen.” He asked, “What’s happening with her
and Max?”

Brook considered, and then offered, “Some of
what I tell you, has to stay between us…”

“Sure.”

Brook explained the relationship. What Max
was feeling anyway, and that they had a lot to work out. She knew
her brother, and had seen Max and Sunny talking and could derive a
conclusion. Besides that, anyone Max cared for, he would
champion.

She finished with, “Jordan has been a loner a
long time. She hasn’t a lot of trust in men, either. So it’s going
to take more effort on everyone’s part to make her see it’s okay,
and that people can be her friends. That they care for her.”

He nodded thoughtfully absorbing what she
said. “That makes sense as to why—with Max. Because she’s so
completely opposite his usual…”

“Yeah. I think she threw him. Gave him hell
when they met.”

A few moments passed while they sipped
coffee.

Coy considered aloud, “Mitch and Madeline
will be dog tired come Monday.”

“They’ve worked so hard…”

“Planning the big July 4th picnic too. That’s
not to be missed. No excuses.”

Brook looked at the sky a moment. “Mom always
sent pictures of them. Her, and Max.”

“You missed family. Didn’t you? I know I
did.”

“Yes.” She lowered her head. “Life was fun,
busy, interesting. Friends were great. But family…”

He reached somewhere on the floor and
retrieved a short cigarette, lighting it. Brook leaned in and took
it.

“You don’t smoke,” he teased.

“Nope. Just stressed.”

He gave her that one, lit another, and set
his cup down, stretching out his legs, crossing his ankles
next.

Having watched that shifting, Brook sighed.
There was something about a strong man’s bare feet.

She pulled on the cigarette and let her eyes
go up those long legs—further—. The top button of his fly was
undone. Deep brown flesh on his abdomen contrasted with the ridge
of blond hair there.

Whoa. Snap the hell out of it.

Mentally shaking her head, she flickered her
eyes up, finding him watching her under his lashes, his face
tense—in a perceptive way.

Turning her head, she pretended to study the
moonlit top of a distant oak.

“You look like a teenager. With your face all
scrubbed and shiny.”

She put out the cigarette and drew her knees
up, heels placed on the edge of the seat. “I never want to go back
to those angst ridden years.”

“Me neither.”

The silence now filled with something neither
of them needed to be there, tonight.

“Brook—”

Hearing that husk in his tone, she bit, “I’ve
got enough going in my life at the moment, Coy. Don’t.”

“Despite the past, I’m here for you,
Brook.”

She snorted softly, a cynical and humorless
sound.

“I don’t mind proving myself to you.”

Her eyes burned with tears. Brook got to her
feet. “Let it go, Coy. Let me—go.” She headed back in the house but
felt him close behind her.

Determined to slam her bedroom door on him.
He still caught her from behind in the doorway of her room.

His arms encircled her. “Please—stop hating
me.”

“I don’t hate you.” She closed her lashes,
tears soaking them.

His lips brushed the top of her head.

“I’m going to bed, Coy.” Oh. God. This man
made her so damned crazy.

His hold shifted so his hands could cup her
shoulders and turn her around. In the soft light from the kitchen,
he studied her damp eyes. His own filled with emotions. “I hate
making you cry.”

“You—haven’t. It’s been a shitty
evening.”

“I can comfort you. I can be here for
you—anyway you need me to be.” Coy pulled her so close, she could
feel his body heat radiating.

“I’ve someone—

“—But I’m here right now.”

“If you really want to do something for
me—don’t—do this—right now.”

Coy stepped back. Their eyes locked.

She was free if she wanted to move. Brook
couldn’t yet. Could not look away. Stomach knotted, emotions all
over the place, today was going to be one for the books;, highs,
lows, high, frustration, anger, now this churning of—whatever it
was that never would go away, with Coy.

She wet her lips, folded her arms, and rested
back against the door facing.

There they stood, in the hallway— with enough
emotions and crazy tension, screwed up unfinished past and present—
to last a lifetime…

Coy moved again—came to her, gathered her
against him, ignoring the folded arms. He soothed her back with his
big hands.

Her temple against his collarbone, Brook felt
him, breathed him in. And despite everything she had said, felt
herself relaxing under the strokes of his hands. When he cupped the
back of her neck, kneading a little, she sighed.

How long that went on was timeless.

At some unguarded moment, she began to feel
the vibration of his heartbeats and react to him. Coy appeared to
sense when it changed too. His palm went from her spine up, then
down lower.

Brook drew back from him “No.”

He exhaled and dropped his hands to his
sides.

She turned, went into her room, closing, then
leaning, against the door. Brook sensed he still stood out there.
She forced herself to walk to the bed, and climbed in, but laid
there, eyes wide opened, chastising herself repeatedly.

She never could help what she would always
feel with Coy Coburn.

Chapter 15

Max paced in the parking lot of Rafael’s,
waiting on Jordan to finish her shift. He walked the space beside
her Harley, to the curb and back, trying to get his thoughts
together. After the debut at the Old Mill, he had enjoyed her
excitement. Contained, but he could feel it in the way she held his
hand, smiled, when he had told her she had kicked ass up there.
They had sat in his truck awhile, talking. him—gobbling up every
word she spoke.

He laughed mentally at himself. He was okay
with being that in love. Monday he had taken her to a movie before
work. A passionate kiss afterwards as he’d said goodbye. Their
phone calls—finally she had let him call her, instead of her one
call to him. Those were nice, lazy talks, about music, the family,
his work, and her days at work.

Now though, he had to expose his behind her
back, stuff, and he still was not sure how she would react.

Ha, get real, he snorted to himself, you are
scared shitless she will be furious and never speak to you again.
In which case, he was prepared to get on his knees—because the more
he was with her, the more he knew he couldn’t live without her.

He finally stopped and half sat on her bike
seat, legs out, looking at the toes of his timberlands. He had
dressed (relaxed) the boots, his jeans and a short sleeved shirt
somewhere between purple and blue. H was not relaxed.

“I didn’t expect you—”

His head whipped round.

Max raised from the seat and smiled at
Jordan. She was stuffing her work clothing in a shoulder pack,
smiling, looking good in her jeans, boots, and black tank. Her hair
was still the silvery with green. She changed it often. Her makeup
was subtle, enhancing her beautiful green eyes.

He stepped and caught her hand, leaned down
and got himself a soft kiss. As he rose from it, he caught her gaze
and murmured, “I’ve somewhere I want to take you. Can we go in my
car?”

She smiled puzzled, but shrugged. “Sure.”

Keeping her hand, Max led her to his car,
parked down by the exit. He opened the door for her, let her in,
and then got in too.

“I need a shower though…”

Max leaned over and sniffed deep. “You smell
great to me.” He moaned

Laughing on a grunt, she tossed the bag in
back. “Okay. Where we going?”

Pulling out, he eased into traffic first. His
heart was beating hard. “I’ve been keeping something from you.”

He didn’t have to see her to feel her lock up
and go cold. “Yeah?” that voice was grating and flat.

Max felt that knot in his stomach
tighten.

“I hired Sunny to try and see if you had any
rights, or chance, to see your daughter.”

He heard the whoosh of breath that came out
of her. She didn’t say anything for so long, he glanced over long
enough to see her blinking, rubbing her hands down her thighs in an
agitated way.

He rushed, “We came to the conclusion pretty
fast that given the way the state views the child’s rights first,
it would be better to try and get your parent’s cooperation….”

“Right,” she ground out. “Won’t happen.”

Max pulled off, into a parking lot and put
the car in park. He turned and looked at her. “It wasn’t easy.
Sunny is good at what he does. He put tough people on the case.
Thing is, Jordan. There comes a time where you have to be the one
signing the papers and calling the shots—”

She stared out the windshield, shaking her
head. “It’s useless. It’s not going to happen.”

Max reached over, grasping one of her hands.
“It’s not useless— It’s actually working. Sweetheart, listen to me.
I know what you have gone through. I heard everything you said. I
believe what you said. But you’re a fighter, and you’ve got to
fight.”

Tears started rolling down her face. “She
hates me. She hates me. Momma told her—”

“I don’t bloody care what they said! That
child deserves the truth, and she deserves the right to know you
have always wanted her. Loved her. Jordan, please,” he rasped,
releasing her hand so he could move over and take her face in his
palms.

Eyes looking through the glassy tears and
pain in the green depths of hers—his whole being was hurting for
her. “Trust me. You sign those papers, meet, talk with the social
workers, whatever they want you to do— and the lawyers will do the
rest. They will make it clear to your parents—” His thumbs were
wiping away streams of tears.

Her nostrils flared to try to stem more.
Jordan whispered, “I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to make
her hate me, more.”

“Baby—baby.” He leaned in, kissing her wet
mouth, her cheeks. “She won’t. I promise. Everyone will do what is
best for her—”

“Mama won’t. She’ll tell her—”

“Jordan, you’ve got to want this.” He leaned
back a bit. “I’ve gone as far as I can without you. They have.
They’ve watched Leigh and talked to her, and they’ve talked to your
parents—”

She jerked her face back, trembling.

Jordan propped her elbow on the door. Five
seconds later, she undid the seatbelt, bent over, and was
sobbing.

Max slid the seat back and lifted by her
shoulders, turning her to him. The way she held on, the pain in her
body, nearly killed him. Max didn’t say anything as he let her cry,
held tight and absorbed the tears. Her fingers digging into his arm
and back showed him how badly she needed to let herself cry, to
just let it all out with someone.

He thanked God he was that someone. As bad as
it hurt him, it also reassured him and made him feel like he would
take on the world for her.

Her weeping eventually subsided. Max reached
for the box of tissue, handing them to her, letting her mop and
blow while he rubbed her back.

Finished, she flipped down the visor and
mirror, laughing watery, “I look like shit, now.”

He laughed, half with relief. Mostly with
affection. “We’ve time to stop by your hotel. I’ll give Sunny a
quick call.”

She nodded and sat back, casting him a look
when he flipped open the cell. “And you know the dump I live in
too, I guess?”