It Had to Be You (50 page)

“The shed. How did you know I’d go to the shed?”

“I didn’t. It was just a stroke of luck that you were walking into it as I was arriving. I smelled the fumes from my truck for God’s sake. You really should fire Stone.”

“Let go of me, Michael.”

When he just regretfully shook his head and pulled her against him, she shuddered. The fear and anger surged together into a powerful fury. “Let go.”

“Can’t.”

She kneed him as hard as she could, and with a sharp cry, he dropped to the floor.

She bolted for the door, but he lunged for her with surprising speed and agility, grabbing her foot and yanking it out from beneath her. She went down hard, hitting her head on the coffee table. Her vision filled with bright stars. The table tipped, and so did the candles, raining down hot wax and lit wicks near her face. The throw rug beneath her caught on fire, and she felt her eyebrows singe, and her shirt. Frantic, she slapped at the smoking material and tried to scramble away from the flickering flames now around her, but Michael still had her foot.

Then the front door burst open, and Amy stood there. “Callie? I heard you scream—” She took in both Michael and Callie on the floor, locked in battle around the fire starting to rage.
“Callie!”

With a roar, Michael hauled himself to his feet and backhanded Amy across the face. She dropped, hit the leg of the upturned table, and lay unmoving.

“No—” Callie broke off when Michael turned toward her.

Chest heaving, face damp with sweat, he gave her a gentle smile. “Now. Where were we?”

J
ake turned on the shower, took a glance at himself in the mirror, and realized he was frowning. He and Callie had had a beautiful night on the riverbed, where she’d thoroughly distracted him from all his problems. She had a way of doing that, of making nothing seem as important as the moment.

He loved that. In fact, he’d had high expectations for the rest of the moments left in the evening, but Michael had ruined that.

Callie hadn’t seemed unnerved by Michael’s late visit, but Jake sure as hell was. He claimed to be Callie’s best friend, and everyone else liked and trusted him, but Jake had looked into his eyes that night and seen something new, something just a little ugly.

The guy wanted Callie, badly. And if Jake had been a good man, an unselfish one, he might have encouraged that relationship. After all, he was leaving, and he wanted Callie safe and happy.

But he wasn’t unselfish. He turned off the shower without using it, and stepped out of the bathroom. He didn’t want to think about Callie with another man. He wanted her safe and happy…with him. “Damn it.”

In his bed, already fast asleep, Tucker stirred. “What?”

“Nothing.” Callie was going to yell at him for interrupting, he was damn sure of it, but too bad. He’d already stripped out of his shirt and boots. Finding either in the dark mess of their cabin would take too long so he went to the door without. The moment he opened it and drew a smoke-filled breath, he jerked in disbelief. “
Jesus.
Tucker, call 9-1-1.” Then he started running, because Callie’s cabin was lit with fire from the inside, the windows a brilliant yellow and orange.
“Callie!”

Her front door stood open. He leapt onto the porch and grabbed the doorjamb, taking in the sight before him like a snapshot. Callie was on the floor, with Michael holding her down while she struggled and kicked at him. Above them, the couch was on fire, and so was the coffee table, as well as the throw rug right next to them.

And on the floor a few feet away, far too close to the burning couch and coffee table, lay an utterly still Amy, with blood seeping from her head and mouth.

His heart nearly stopped. “Callie!” But he went for Amy first. He had to, she was out cold and the flames were too close to her hair. Scooping her up, he ran to the front door, nearly plowing into Tucker. “Take her.” He thrust her in Tucker’s arms, then whirled back.

Callie and Michael were rolling across the floor now, panting, fighting in eerie silence. Barefoot, he ran toward them, jumping over the fire that spread from the rug to the lace curtains. Flames leapt toward the ceiling. He reached the two of them just as Callie managed to stop their momentum with her on top. She fisted her hands in Michael’s hair and slammed his head to the floor.

Michael’s eyes rolled back in his head and his hands fell from her. Panting, Callie slouched over him for one second before Jake hauled her up and into his arms.

“Extinguisher,” she rasped, grabbing her throat as if it hurt to talk, and he could see why. The bastard had tried to choke the life out of her, leaving bruising handprints on her skin.

“Kitchen. The extinguisher’s in the kitchen.” She struggled to pull away to do it herself.

“I’ve got it.” He pointed at her as he started running. “Outside now!”

He found the extinguisher and turned back to find her struggling to drag Michael outside. Her shirt was torn off one shoulder. She had a bloody lip and a nasty scratch above one eye but she was tugging Michael’s limp body for all she was worth. He rushed to her, picking up Michael himself, gritting his teeth at the burst of pain in his shoulder.

Outside, Tucker had just set Amy down and was heading back in. “Here,” Jake said and dumped Michael on the grass next to Amy. “Watch him.”

Back inside he went right for Callie, who was fighting with the extinguisher. He took it from her and with his shoulder screaming, started attacking the fire. It came as second nature to him, thank God, because his usual calm was nowhere to be found. This was Callie’s place, Callie who’d nearly gotten killed, and nothing about this felt like fighting a fire usually did.

And he knew right then and there, it wasn’t just Callie. It was him. Something within him had changed. As that thought settled over him, a stream of water shot past him. Callie stood just behind him with the hand-held faucet from her kitchen sink on full blast.

Looking at her fierce protective expression, at the blood seeping from several cuts, her torn clothes, at how she was giving everything she had, he nearly sank to his knees with the force of emotion he felt for her. “Get outside,” he said hoarsely.

“Not until you do,” she said, continuing to send her small stream of water on the fire.

“Callie—” He broke off when he heard sirens racing up the drive. Thank God. “They’re here—” He broke off when she put her hand to her head and swayed, and he dropped the extinguisher to grab her.

“Your shoulder,” she murmured in protest when he carried her outside, but he didn’t put her down. He couldn’t, he discovered, not even when Eddie, Stone, and Lou came running. Not even when one of the paramedics came forward and wanted to check her.

The guests had all come outside, too, in various stages of dress, but Marge was with them, calming everyone down. Tucker held Amy in his lap again, while keeping a foot on Michael, who he relinquished to the sheriff. They could hear Michael moaning about his family jewels and how Callie had kicked them into next week.

Jake still couldn’t believe it. There’d been an emergency, a
fire.
His own element, but Callie had saved herself. She’d saved herself, and maybe, just maybe, as he stared down into her face, heart pounding, blood still frozen in fear, she’d saved him as well. Not an easy admission for a man extremely used to being the hero.

He still couldn’t let go of her. For nearly six weeks now, he’d told himself this odd and desperate need for her was just lust, but that was turning out to be pure bullshit. No matter that he didn’t want to be falling for her, no matter that he didn’t do love, things were happening inside him that he couldn’t stop.

And he no longer wanted to.

Hours later, after the fire had been put out, after all the questions had been answered, after Amy and Callie had both been checked out by the paramedics, Amy let Tucker into her cabin. It was the first time she’d done so, and she stood by her little couch looking at him as he shut the door behind him.

In another place and time his doing so would have panicked her, put her into full defense mode, but at the moment she was either too tired or…or she’d come to trust him.

He turned to her, weariness and lingering fear etched in the lines of his face as he slid his hands into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, but Callie—” Her voice cracked a little at that. She’d never forget the sight of Callie trying to crawl away from Michael. “She’s hurt far worse—”

“Jake’ll take care of her.”

She knew a little about the tension between the brothers. “Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed a weary hand over his face. “I was wrong about Jake. And if he and Callie have found any happiness together, more power to them.”

“But where will she sleep? I should have told her to come here—”

“I gave them my cabin for tonight, though surprisingly, Callie’s cabin isn’t that bad off.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll find a spot.” He shrugged. “It’s you I’m worried about right now.” He walked toward her slowly, with his crooked, rather endearing smile in place, clearly not wanting to frighten her.

For some reason, she felt like bawling. “I’m okay.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. I want to just look at you. God, I could look at you forever.” He lifted a hand, and she stared at him unflinchingly. He let out a breath and ran a finger gently, so very gently, over the cut on her head. The paramedic had closed it with Steri-strips. He’d thought she could be mildly concussed and should go to the hospital.

But having a healthy fear of hospitals, she’d refused.

Now Tucker made a low, rough sound in his throat while he touched her. “When Jake put you in my arms, I just about died. You were so still—”

“Just knocked out for a second. I hit the corner of the coffee table.”

He nodded, and his gaze dropped to hers. “You have got to have a helluva headache. They said no aspirin. Can I get you some Tylenol?”

She’d been through so much worse than this in her life, she nearly laughed, but he was still touching her, and her whole body was on alert. “I’m okay,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” His finger trailed down her temple, along her jaw.

“I’m so glad for all of us,” she babbled quickly. “Stone, Lou. Me.”

“None of us ever believed you’d done anything wrong. Amy—”

She caught his hand in hers, then closed her eyes. “I want you to know something.” She opened her eyes and brought their joined hands to her chest. Still watching him, she spread his fingers over her heart. “I unpacked.”

His smile was slow and heart-melting. “That’s good. That’s real good.”

“Yeah. Tucker, I’ve not spent much of my life feeling wanted or even particularly liked. Certainly never cherished.”

His smile faded, a tortured look crossing his face. “Amy—”

“No, listen. Please. I have to get this out. The way you try to be so careful with me makes me feel those things.” Her heart had started pounding hard and fast as she spoke, and she knew he could feel it. “I’ve never done this before, never opened up like this, but life is too short.” She drew a deep breath. “Tucker, I really like you. I just wanted you to know that.”

“I like you, too, Amy. So much I can hardly stand it.” His other hand skimmed up her back, lightly, not pulling or pawing, just touching, just holding, and slowly, so painfully slowly that her entire body tingled and melted in anticipation, he leaned in. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Um.”

“Say yes. Please say yes.”

She wasn’t going to let an old fear, one that couldn’t hurt her now, ruin this, and as she stared up into the face so close to hers, waiting patiently, with warmth and affection and hot, hot need in his eyes, she thought, Oh my God, he’s beautiful. “Okay,” she whispered.

His mouth touched hers. An electric shock seemed to bolt through her, but his hand, light and sure and easy skimming up and down her back, grounded her. She sighed, in relief, in pleasure, and shyly touched her tongue to his.

He groaned, low and rough, and danced his tongue to hers for one glorious moment before pulling back. Not breathing all that steadily anymore, he backed to the door, fumbled for the handle behind him.

“You’re leaving?”

He closed his eyes, then opened them. “This is new for you, this opening up thing.”

“Yes.”

His entire heart was in his eyes when he smiled. “It’s new for me, too. So for the first time in my entire life, I’m not going to rush a good thing. A great thing. Possibly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He opened the door, swore, then came back, and cupping her face, kissed her one more time. Then he let out a long breath. “Leaving now.”

She stared at him. He was really going to go. He wasn’t going to pressure her to sleep with him.

He opened the door, started to step out.

“Tucker?”

“Yeah?”

“I have both a couch and a cot.” Her heart started to pound again, because she couldn’t believe she was offering this to him. “You could, you know, use one. For tonight. Not the one I’m on, but—I mean—”

He came back to her, and very lightly stroked a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Are you sure?”

Unable to trust her voice, she reached for the extra blanket on the foot of her cot and offered it to him. He took it and smiled. “It’ll be much nicer than the hay barn.”

She didn’t quite smile back, and his faded. “You know I can do this, right? I can sleep
waaaay
over here”—he stretched out on the couch, leaned back and closed his eyes—“without attacking you.”

“Logically, yes.” She stayed where she was and swallowed hard. “I’m working on everything else.”

“Go to sleep,” he whispered. “I’m going to check on you in a little while, don’t be scared. I’ll just say your name and you just answer. Okay?”

“Okay.” She climbed onto the cot and laid down. She immediately popped back up to look at him.

He hadn’t moved.

He wasn’t going to. He’d promised.

She lay back, but once again popped up. He was still there, still not moving. She repeated this two more times, with the same result.

He never even twitched, though surely he had to hear her every time she jumped up like a lunatic. Then, for the first time in her entire life, she curled up and fell asleep…

With a smile on her lips.

After all the craziness, all Callie wanted was a shower. She used the one in Tucker and Jake’s cabin, and Jake waited for her, knowing she was concentrating on the feel of the water, the scent of the soap, the sting of it on her various cuts and bruises, so that she could keep her mind blank of the evening’s events—such as Michael’s overwhelming betrayal.

When she stepped out of the shower, he held out a towel for her, which she walked into. He held out another towel for her hair, which she silently took.

Then she tipped her head up and looked at him.

At the misery, pain, and lingering fear in her gaze, his heart broke. She let him dry her off, another sign of how bad off she was.

“I’m okay, you know,” she said quietly.

“Yeah.” But the image of her lying on the floor, locked in battle with a man she’d loved and trusted, while fire rained down all around her, would haunt him for a long time to come, so he could only imagine what it was doing to her.

“Look, I should have seen it coming, okay?”

He put his hands on her shoulders and waited until she looked at him. “Tell me you know this was not your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” Her eyes were shiny and far too bright. “My God, Jake, I brought danger to everyone here by letting him come around, by letting him be near—” She broke off and shuddered, then covered her face.