Wicked Burn (28 page)

His cock jerked and tightened as if it’d just been yanked by a string, like his abrupt hard-on was just as obvious a result of adding those two thoughts together as one plus one equals two.

Shit. Well at least there couldn’t be any doubt that his lack of a sex life had anything to do with equipment damage, he thought sourly. Not that he appreciated the fact that Niall was the one who almost instantly turned his cock into a steel pike.

“That damn sack is going into the lake later,” he vowed to himself.

When he realized that he was talking to himself, he sprang out of the bed. What he needed was a big breakfast, a long ride on his favorite horse, Traveler, a few good hours writing at the computer . . . and maybe a trip back to the El Paso later. Today was Saturday. Chances were that Missy would be working again tonight, he reminded himself as he turned the shower nozzle to a frigid setting.

Vic wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on the biggest question mark that kept bobbing annoyingly around his brain.

Just what the hell did Niall hope to accomplish by showing up on his farm?

Was she still interested in him, or was he just an unfortunate detail that she had to endure because of another agenda? Was she here just to take up where they’d left off? Because if she thought he was going to be her stand-in for her husband again, she definitely had another think coming. Vic despised liars and he didn’t do married women.

And he damned Niall for making him break that code without his knowledge.

Why hadn’t he just let Niall walk out the fucking door on that first night?

SIXTEEN

Andy, one of their full-time farmhands, Meg, Tim, Donny, and Niall all froze when Vic swung open the back screen door that led directly to the kitchen. He glowered at each one of them in turn, although he made a point of not making eye contact with Niall. Tim paused with a butter knife poised over some toast, Meg scowled from where she stood with a spatula in her hand by the stove, and Donny gawked at him from where he sat at the big kitchen table next to Niall.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Meg deadpanned.

He threw her an “I’ll deal with you later” look before he let the door slam shut behind him. He’d forgotten the kid was here. It didn’t seem right to make a scene in front of him. Donny had enough of that crap at home.

“Morning, Vic,” Tim greeted his brother-in-law extra cheerfully, perhaps compensating for Vic’s surly mood. Donny and Andy added their greetings, but Niall was silent. He saw from the corner of his eye, as he poured himself a cup of coffee, that Donny sat next to her and one of his sketch pads lay on the table between them.

“Where’s Tony?” Vic asked Tim as he took a sip of hot coffee, referring to Tim’s other full-time employee. The property that he’d inherited included thirty-six hundred acres of workable farmland. Tim needed several full- and part-time employees to help him run it during the planting season.

“His four-year-old is sick,” Andy answered.

“And his wife is in Pennsylvania visiting her folks,” Tim added as he set a plate of buttered toast on the table.

“You’ll need some help getting those soybeans in the ground, then,” Vic said stonily as he sat down at the end of the table farthest from Niall. He often helped on the farm, enjoying the manual labor and the feeling of accomplishment that accompanied it, even if he didn’t want to make farming his official profession. In fact, he liked to find excuses to work on his farm. He felt a real connection with the rich, black soil, a feeling just as powerful as what he felt for the stark, barren landscape of Montana where he owned a ranch. Maybe his Uncle Manny really knew what he was doing by leaving Vic his land.

“I’ll do Tony’s share while he’s out,” Vic muttered.

“We’ll get them planted one way or another,” Tim assured him.

“I thought you were going to get some writing done today,” Meg added as she brought plates of scrambled eggs and bacon to Andy and Vic.

Vic just shrugged and picked up his fork. He could feel Niall’s gaze on him like a light current of electricity buzzing just beneath his skin. He looked up abruptly, meeting her stare. She glanced away immediately, likely put off by the message of blazing irritation in his eyes. She carefully drew back a page of the sketch pad and returned her attention to Donny’s drawings.

“These are really good,” Vic heard her say quietly to Donny. “You have considerable natural talent, Donny.”

Donny blushed beneath his tan. “It’s just comic book stuff. It’s not like they’re art or anything.”

Vic gritted his teeth in annoyance when he saw the kid’s expression when he looked at Niall’s face, like he’d entered the house half-asleep as usual, ready for a ho-hum day, and suddenly found himself sitting next to Cameron Diaz for breakfast.

Not that he could necessarily blame Donny. Niall looked as fresh and pretty as a daisy, wearing a short-sleeved white cotton blouse with her golden hair falling in shiny waves to an inch above her shoulders. He’d rarely seen her dressed so casually. Vic remembered how soft her hair felt between his fingers all too well, just as he recalled the way her skin flowed like silk beneath his hands. Her complexion glowed with health . . . and perhaps an awareness of his anger at her uninvited presence on the farm. With the light sprinkling of freckles on her nose and her lack of makeup or jewelry, she looked about twenty years old. Vic’s frown deepened when he noticed that not only Donny stared at her with a slack-jawed expression of awe but that Andy kept throwing calf-eyed glances at her as well.

When Vic realized he was staring just like every other male at the table, his frown deepened and he transferred his attention to eating his breakfast. Still, he couldn’t shut out the impact of Niall’s low, husky voice, much as he wished he could.

“What would make you think it’s not art?” she asked Donny seriously. “There are some very fine artists in the ranks of cartoonists. Look at the power you’ve managed to convey here”—she brushed her fingertip across the page—“the inherent movement, the forward-surging energy in his body. That’s some very fine artwork. And your writing for the story line is very good, as well. What’s your character’s name?”

Donny glanced up between his too-long bangs to see if anybody was listening, flushing slightly with embarrassment. Vic turned his eyes back to his plate.

“Stealth Judge,” Donny mumbled almost unintelligibly.

“Thank you, Meg,” Niall said warmly when Meg handed her a plate of scrambled eggs. “Let’s close your book, Donny. I don’t want to get anything on your artwork. You know, we did an exhibit at the museum a few years back of Marvel comics. I don’t suppose you came to it?” Niall asked as she reached for a piece of toast.

Donny shook his shaggy head. “Nah, I’ve never been to Chicago.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “You actually showed stuff about comics in a museum?”

Niall laughed, the sound making Vic cock his head slightly, as if trying to catch it fully in his ear. When he realized what he was doing, he determinedly shoveled the rest of his eggs in his mouth in one bite and pushed back his chair. Niall glanced up uncertainly at the loud scraping of his chair.

“Art isn’t as stuffy and boring as you’re making it out to be, Donny,” she assured the boy as soon as she recovered. “Art reflects life, so that means it can be just about anything. It’s the power and message of the reflection that make it art. I brought the book that we published for the Marvel exhibit. I’ll show it to you later. It was amazing. I got to meet Stan Lee.”

Vic looked over his shoulder from where he was standing at the sink with his plate in time to see Donny’s jaw drop a mile.

“You met
Stan Lee
?” he croaked in disbelief.

Niall nodded, her hazel eyes gleaming with excitement. “He was really nice. Did you know that his real name is Stanley Martin Lieber and . . .”

“He changed his name to Stan Lee by splitting his first name in half?” Donny finished for her breathlessly. Meg threw Tim and Vic an amused look before she handed Donny a plate. Donny distractedly accepted it before he turned back to Niall. “Who’s your favorite Marvel character?”

“The Silver Surfer, hands down. He’s so mysterious.”

Vic was a little surprised when Niall answered so quickly, but he supposed that there were lots of things he hadn’t known about her.
Like that she was married for instance
, he thought as he opened the dishwasher door with a bang.

Donny stared at Niall like he was witnessing a miracle. “You like the Silver Surfer? He’s my favorite, too. By far . . .” The boy’s words trailed off as he continued to gape at Niall.

“Beginning to reconsider taking Niall’s class this summer, Donny?” Meg chuckled as she sat down with her own plate.

“Yeah, maybe it would be cool,” Donny said slowly. “But only if Vic said I could . . . with work and all.”

Vic paused in the action of putting his plate in the dishwasher when the room went silent. With a quick sweep of his eyes, he took in Meg’s triumphant grin, Donny’s hopeful look, and Niall’s wary expression. His gaze lingered on Niall as he slowly straightened. Fury rose in him like steam scalding his throat when he recognized the subtle trap.

“You know that the agreement from the very beginning was that school always comes first,” Vic finally managed to get out. What else could he say?

“Yeah, but this is just an extracurricular class. And it’s only for art,” Donny waffled.

“What’d ya mean
only
for art?”

Donny looked a little taken aback. “Nothing . . . I mean . . .”

“Art always put bread on my table,” Vic told Donny in a more restrained voice. He stood and slammed the dishwasher door shut. “Take the class. It’ll do you good and keep you outta trouble, besides. I’ll meet you two out in the barn,” he told his brother-in-law and Andy stiffly before he walked out the door.

 

 

Niall glanced uncertainly at Meg before she followed Vic a few seconds later.

“Niall, let it go for now . . .” she heard Meg say warningly, but she plunged out the screen door and onto the back porch anyway. Dawn made the eastern sky a vibrant landscape of pale gold and pink. The air felt cool and pleasant on her skin as she raced down the painted wood stairs. The luminescent promise of the June morning, combined with the soft, calm breeze, seemed to stand in direct contrast with Vic’s tense posture and angry, gravel-scattering footsteps.

“Vic, wait,” she called out once she’d jogged up several feet behind him. She had to force herself not to take several steps backward when he spun around to face her. His handsome face was livid with fury. She lost whatever composure she possessed at the sight.

“I . . . I . . . don’t want you to think . . .” She stumbled over her words anxiously. “I didn’t plan for that to happen just now . . . with Donny, I mean.”

“And I should believe you . . .
why
, exactly?” Vic asked with brutal sarcasm.

Niall’s cheeks flushed hot at his reference to her past dishonesty. “I’m telling the truth, Vic. I had no way of knowing about the boy. I couldn’t have planned that. I
wouldn’t
have,” she added under her breath.

He stepped closer. She inhaled the familiar scent of his skin mixing with the spicy, clean smell of his soap. Longing swamped her awareness, the feeling so overwhelmingly powerful that it made her eyes burn. She saw his nostrils flare slightly, as though he’d caught her scent as well. That, combined with the anger that almost seemed to roll off his big body like waves of heat, caused her heart to beat wildly in her chest.

“I wouldn’t put anything past you and Meg at this point,” he stated in a low growl. Niall started when he encircled her upper arm with his hand and pulled her closer. “What the hell are you up to? Why did you come here?”

Niall tried to inhale slowly to calm herself. It wasn’t an easy thing to do while she looked up into his stormy gray eyes. Her gaze lingered for a moment on his mouth . . . on that slightly crooked, sinfully sexy front tooth.

“I came because I was ready, Vic.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She raised her jaw stubbornly, stung by his relentless contempt. “It means that I wasn’t ready before, and now I am,” she replied. She saw the subtle change that her answer wrought on his rigid features.

The screen door slammed shut behind her, signaling Tim and Andy’s exit from the house. Vic blinked at the sound before he leaned closer to her face, his thigh brushing her own, his eyes spearing into her.

“I don’t care what the fuck you’re ready for, Niall. You may have finagled your way into Meg’s life, but you better stay clear of mine. Understood?” he asked in an ominous, quiet tone before he shook her arm slightly for emphasis.

“It’s you who doesn’t understand, Vic.”

“Is that right?” he asked with an ugly twist of his shapely mouth. Tim’s and Andy’s footsteps crunched on the gravel thirty feet behind them. “Well, I’m real happy in my ignorance.”

“You don’t look very happy,” she countered softly.

She felt the tension leap into his muscles, saw the flash of potent anger in his light eyes. For a second Niall thought he looked furious enough to strangle her. Instead, he released her and stepped back abruptly, as if he’d suddenly realized he was holding an intimate conversation with a poisonous snake.

“I don’t care what you think I look like. Just stay away from me,” he ordered before he turned and headed toward the path that led to the barn.

 

 

Niall felt her determination flagging in the face of Vic’s harsh dismissal. She’d known rationally that he was going to be angered by her presence on the farm. But logic couldn’t have prepared her for the impact of his boiling fury. As she and Meg spent a relaxing morning puttering around Meg’s garden and then preparing lunch together, Meg assured her on several occasions that Vic’s temper at her being there was a good signal, not a bad one.