Safe Harbor (11 page)

Clarisse didn’t hear anyone stirring when she awoke early Tuesday morning. The dinner had been stressful, but she really liked Jason’s wife. She found it easier to put her mistrust for Sully and Jason aside, but it would take some time.

Intellectually, she knew her mistrust was neither warranted nor fair, considering they’d been nothing but nice to her.

Especially considering what Sully had done for Uncle Tad.

Emotionally was another story. She checked herself in the bathroom mirror. Some of the bruises had faded to ugly greenish-yellow clouds on her skin instead of the deep, angry purples and blues. Her eye almost looked normal, and her lip had nearly healed.

Stripping, she turned to look in the mirror again. Along her back and thighs, those bruises were also fading—thank God—and the worst of the pain had abated. Several nights in a damn good bed without worrying about dying had helped.

After her shower, she dressed and started for the kitchen when she realized she hadn’t pulled her hair back.

Okay, so she didn’t mind doing that for Sully.

Pretty eyes.
The way he’d said it…Yes, it sent a warm, sweet thrill through her that she’d never felt before.

Even though her hair hadn’t dried, she pulled it back and loosely bound it at the nape of her neck. Hell, it was the least she could do.

One simple request from a man who had twisted himself inside out to take care of her and her uncle when she’d done nothing but mistrust him.

At the very least, she owed him this simple gesture until she felt

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more comfortable calling him friend.

The house sat dark and quiet. She guessed the men must still be asleep. Having spotted where Mac kept the coffee and filters, she fixed a pot and walked downstairs to get the paper while it brewed.

She shivered in the chilly air and wished she’d put on more than jeans and a T-shirt. Not quite six-thirty, the neighborhood lay still and quiet around her.

There were worse places to live. Far worse. She felt guilty she had uprooted the men’s lives and knew she’d have to save her money and get her shit together so she could get a place of her own no matter what she’d promised Uncle Tad. Wouldn’t be nearly this swanky, but as long as it had A/C and no roaches or rodents, she’d survive.

She needed a job. She couldn’t do that until she got her driver’s license changed. But to do that would put Bryan on her trail.

No car. Very little money.

She missed Bart.

The last thought finished her. She sat on the bottom step and cried with her head in her hands. That was another thing—she couldn’t control her fucking emotions! Mac had warned her to expect mood swings considering all she’d been through, but this was freaking ridiculous!

She cried for ten minutes, then angrily chastised herself to pull it together. She didn’t want to cry in front of the men, didn’t want to look like a total damn moron. After taking a deep breath, she returned upstairs with the paper but realized she still felt too unsettled to stay inside. She pulled on a sweatshirt and jacket and took the paper and a mug of coffee downstairs to sit by the seawall.

Faint tendrils of steam floated off the bayou’s calm surface. A beautiful view, very relaxing. Next to her aunt and uncle, she’d missed the water most of all when she’d to moved to Ohio. There was nothing more beautiful than a quiet morning on the water, watching the world come to life. Plenty of times Uncle Tad had let her sleep alone on the Dilly in the marina. She’d claimed it was so she could

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sleep a little later in the mornings before a trip. The truth was she didn’t know how to explain, without feeling like an idiot, how the water calmed her. Soothing. The sound of the rigging chiming as the boat rocked in its slip, the calls of seagulls, the deep, warm throb of the engines, all of it.

No words could adequately describe it.

The paper lay unread in her lap as she sipped her coffee and stared across the bayou. Beyond it lay the Gulf. She’d love to work on the Dilly again. Hard work, sure, but nothing compared. Being stuck on dry land in Ohio made her miserable. When her parents told her of the move she’d sobbed, begged to stay behind. Uncle Tad and Aunt Karen had offered to let her live with them and finish high school, but her mom stood her ground, not wanting to be away from her “baby.”

Truth be told, Clarisse’s mom had never liked her brother-in-law, had looked down her nose at Tad Moore.

Mac was so sweet, and he tried so hard to make things good for her. And Sully…

She closed her eyes and thought about his grey gaze. He was a handsome man, they both were, in different ways. How ironic Mac had a few inches and several pounds on Sully, yet Sully had the

“Master” role.

I’ve got to try harder.

It would only be fair for Sully to toss her out on her ass if she couldn’t be a little kinder to him.

The sun lifted over the tree line, warming her back and shoulders to the point where she shed the sweatshirt and put the jacket on again.

She sat there for almost two hours, completely finished the paper.

About the time she’d planned to return inside, she heard the front door open and shut, followed by a single pair of footsteps on the stairs.

From the sound, she recognized Sully’s lighter step.

Clarisse tensed.

A car door opened and closed. Then Sully’s Jag started and pulled out.

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When she turned, he was already down the road.

She hadn’t even tried to call out to him, to say good morning or thanks for helping her out.

She’d hunched down, praying she wasn’t noticed.

She gathered everything and returned to the house. Mac offered her a broad smile when she walked into the kitchen.

“Morning! You hungry, kiddo?”

She nodded and slid onto one of the stools at the counter. She wanted to ask about Sully but didn’t. It wasn’t her business where he went or what he did.

Mac kept up a mostly one-sided conversation with her while he cooked. When he slid a plate of bacon and eggs in front of her, he laid his hand over hers. “Are you really okay?”

“It’s just hitting me, that’s all. And I really miss Bart.” She almost successfully fought the urge to sniffle. “I’ve never been away from him before. I know it sounds dumb, but he’s like my baby.”

“We’ll get him back for you, sweetie. One way or the other, and you won’t have to go alone. I promise.”

“I can’t ask you to go with me.”

His face and voice grew firm, commanding. “You aren’t asking.

I’m telling you, I’m going with you.”

“Will Sully let you?” She wished she hadn’t asked it.

He squeezed her hand before moving back to the stove. “He won’t dare say no.”

* * * *

Mac didn’t offer Sully’s whereabouts and she didn’t pry. Mac took her to Tad’s and dropped her off while he ran errands. When he picked her up and they drove home, she managed to snag two grocery bags out of the truck before he could stop her.

“No, I’m helping.” She stuck her tongue out at him, daring him to take the bags away from her.

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He laughed. “Okay, fine. Carry the damn bags, you stubborn brat.”

She paused at his playful tone of voice. Normally, comments like that would cause her to bristle or shoot back with a scathing reply.

But…

It felt different coming from Mac. She couldn’t explain it.

Sully returned home before dinner. Clarisse suspected from Mac’s puzzled look that he didn’t have any idea where Sully had been. Sully kissed him, then turned to her.

“Did you have a good day?”

She fought her body’s instincts. She could do this, dammit. He was a nice guy. “Yes, thank you.”

He held out his hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Clarisse hesitated before placing her hand in his.

He smiled, full of playful, teasing mirth, and led her to the front door with Mac trailing behind. “Mac, cover her eyes, don’t let her see.

Clarisse, use the handrail. I won’t let you fall.”

Like that, they helped her down the stairs. She didn’t know what waited, only that halfway down, Mac suppressed a laugh.

They led her across the driveway. She could tell by the feel of the gravel under her feet. When they stopped, Sully gently squeezed her hand before pressing something into her palm. “Open your eyes, honey.”

A bright green VW Bug sat next to Sully’s Jag in the driveway.

She looked at what he’d put into her hand—a keychain.

Numb shock hit her, followed by a wave of tears. She felt Mac slip his arm around her shoulders. “Well, how about that?” Mac said.

“Go on. Let’s see how you look in it.”

“Mac, did you know he was going to do this?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Nope. But now I know what he was up to all freaking day long.”

She turned to Sully. “I can’t accept this.”

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He stepped forward and gently took her hands. “You can, and you will. This is a gift. It’s not new, it’s six years old, but it’s in good shape. I had my mechanic go over it. It’ll get good gas mileage and it’ll last you for several years. I put it in my name for now. I’ll pay the insurance for you until…things settle.”

She wiped the tears off her face and forced herself to hug him.

“Thank you.” She relaxed against him, allowing herself to rest her head on his shoulder. “You’ve been so nice to me and I’m such a bitch.”

“Stop.” He made her look at him. “You’ve been through hell.

You’re not a bitch. Don’t make me spank you.” The curl along the edges of his mouth belied his words.

She laughed. “Okay. Thank you.”

Mac walked ahead and opened the driver’s door for her. Sully climbed into the passenger side. “Want to take me for a quick spin?”

“Sure.”

Mac stuck his head in the driver side. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“We’ll be right back,” Sully assured him.

They buckled up and drove to the end of their street and back.

When they pulled in, he started to unbuckle his seatbelt when she reached over.

“Sully…really. Thank you. You’ve been nothing but good to me.

I’m sorry I’m…difficult.”

“You’re anything but difficult.” He brushed a finger along her chin, sending a warm flutter through her core. “We need to get upstairs before we ruin Mac’s dinner and make him mad.”

* * * *

Sully let her climb the stairs first and tried to keep his eyes off her ass as he followed. She was cute. She was also totally off-limits for several reasons, the first and foremost being the man who slept in his bed every night. The second, she was in no way, shape, or form

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someone he needed to even think about in that way due to what she’d been through. Despite Tad’s persistent hints, while Sully wasn’t adverse to a poly situation, Clarisse most likely wouldn’t want to join them in their relationship. Especially when, back to point number two, she’d been beat to hell and back.

Sully stayed up late working that night. When a story called, it called. He’d long ago learned to write when the words flowed. A little after midnight, he heard a noise from Clarisse’s room. By the time he reached her door, she was screaming.

Without hesitation and realizing he’d reached for a gun he no longer wore, he burst through her door to find her alone in bed.

A nightmare.

By the time he reached her side and pulled her into his arms, she was sobbing and clung to him.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just bad dreams.” He stroked her hair as she cried, trembling from fear and adrenaline.

Mac ran in carrying a baseball bat. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Sully smirked. “Stand down, slugger. She had a nightmare.”

He put the bat down and joined them in bed, sandwiching her between them until she calmed.

She made no attempt to pull away from Sully.

He closed his eyes as he nuzzled her hair, smelled her shampoo, breathed her scent. “Why don’t you come sleep with us tonight, sweetie?”

Without a word she nodded, still shivering in his arms.

Fuck.

She was terrified. Whatever the dream had been, it did more than scare the crap out of her. It had probably triggered flashbacks of the attack.

Mac hovered, worried, as Sully helped her out of bed. Sully kept his arm around her, snugged her closely to his side, and led her to their bedroom. A few minutes later, she curled in his arms in their bed

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while Mac lay beside her and held her hands.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Sully kissed her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re softer to cuddle with than he is.”

“Hey,” Mac protested, but he smiled.

She looked over her shoulder at Sully, a wan smile on her face.

“I’m sorry I’m a pain.”

“Stop,” he firmly said. “You’re not a pain. Go to sleep and have good dreams. That’s an order.”

* * * *