Worth The Price (Hart's Fall, Montana) (11 page)

“Danika.” A dangerous hitch crept into his voice.

She surveyed the area to make sure none of the other volunteers were within hearing range then drew in a deep calming breath. She didn’t want to create a scene or make a fool of herself if the volunteers took notice of their skirmish. “I’ll drop it for now. Don’t think I’m going to forget about this so easily, though. I won’t. There’s a much bigger issue here than you refusing to tell me about the donation.”

A muscle below his eye ticked. “What do you want from me? Since I was thirteen-years-old I’ve been by myself. You can’t expect because we live together I’m going to suddenly transform into a different person and tell you every little detail about my life.”

“You’re my husband. I want to know everything. I
should
know everything about you.”

His features hardened as he yanked a hammer off the ground. “I gave you the twenty grand right? I upheld my end of the bargain. That’s all you need to know about me.” He snatched up a nail from the box on the ground and drove it into the drywall with a violent force. Danika winced. It was as if the nail itself was being driven into their fragile relationship.

Worth the Price

Brandon knew he had messed up big time. In the two hours they’d spent helping at the shelter, Danika hadn’t spoken a single word to him. She had barely even looked at him on the way back to the Bar S in his truck.

And now hours later, he didn’t have the first clue how to set things right with her again. From across the open field, Brandon stared longingly at the house. He’d been out here with the rest of the workers since the moment they arrived home. Tonight he had chosen to remain outside working longer than his usual hours and still a light emanated from the house, although midnight was around the corner.

Danika, he guessed was curled up in bed either reading or nursing her anger toward him. Sighing, Brandon thrust a hand through his hair. If he’d been smarter and known when to keep his mouth shut, she would be strutting to the front door in one of her sexy nighties or maybe wearing one of his t-shirts, to greet him. He closed his eyes and groaned. It wasn’t hard to imagine her pert little nipples beaded with excitement and straining against the soft material, awaiting his touch. Would she ever become wet and slick for him again, after the way he had spoken to her today? His teeth gritted. More important, would she stay with him? Perhaps she was already packed up, ready to hightail it back to her da.

Paranoid and frustrated with his fears, Brandon dumped the last pile of straw into a mare’s stall and marched out of the stable.

“Hey boss, you sure you don’t want us to leave the dogs out on the pasture tonight?”

Brandon shook his head, suddenly brought back to reality by Sanchez, one of the ranch hands also working late tonight. “No. If those bastards return, I don’t want to chance being out of even more cattle and a pack of loyal dogs.” Replacing cattle was one thing, if the funds were there, but his cattle dogs were worth their weight in gold around the ranch. He couldn’t afford to lose them to thieves or worse find one or all of them killed.

“You think it’ll happen again? Might be a one-time thing. None of the other guys around here said it happened at the other ranches. Kinda strange that they chose Bar S, eh? None of the other ranches have been hit. It’s not easy access like getting to Hart Ranch or the Circle Burr Ranch.”

Brandon sneered. Of course not. Those ranchers were respected in this town, especially Austin Hart owner of Hart Ranch. That was the difference. Location be damned.

“Think somebody’s got a grudge against you, boss?”

Somebody? How about Prescott,
he thought snidely. He was the only person who Brandon imagined would resort to extreme measures to get back at him. In any case, cattle theft was a major crime that involved serious jail time for the person found guilty. He wasn’t about to jump the gun and shout his suspicion of his father-in-law. He was still in boiling water with Danika. One complication was more than he could handle.

Brandon lifted a shoulder. “Probably just a couple of thugs stealing their way along the range.” Either way he’d had a camera installed on the pasture since keeping a twenty-four hour eye on the herd was out of the question.

After the remaining workers left, Brandon secured the latch to the stable door and looked toward the house again. A knot wedged itself inside his stomach. If the situation weren’t so pathetic it would have been laughable. He, Brandon Sharpe, was scared out of his wits to go inside his own home and face his wife, a little wisp of a woman who barely came up to his chin, but who could cut him down with nothing but one tender look from those soft brown eyes.

“Time to man up,” he said to himself a few minutes later. Closing the door behind him, it felt like his legs were as wobbly as a newborn colt taking its first steps. His eyes shifted to the sofa, landing on Danika fast asleep with her legs tucked beneath her. Her small fist was loosely curled around a book.

Brandon sank to his knees. He lifted a strand of hair that fell to her eyelashes and pressed his lips to her brows and closed eyelids. For months he had wanted Danika, desired to walk beside her one day. And here she was, his wife, curled up on the sofa instead of in their comfortable bed. He swallowed down a fresh wave of guilt. It looked as if she had even stayed up waiting for him in spite of her anger.

Out of nowhere, her eyelids fluttered. The book slid from her grasp, hitting the floorboards with a resounding thump. She mumbled something unintelligible and stirred. Brandon leaned forward, his thumb caressing the side of her cheek. “Shh. It’s all right.” He hooked his hands beneath her knees and gently raised her off the sofa into his arms.

She nestled into him and sighed softly. Brandon felt the tension ease from his body, up until the moment her eyes gradually opened. Awareness flickered into her narrowing gaze. Anticipating her struggle, he held her tighter and closer to him.

“Put me down.” She struggled against him.

Brandon refused. “Were you waiting up for me?” he asked, peering down at her.

“Wouldn’t you love that? As a matter of fact, I fell asleep out here by accident reading. You
and
your money Sharpe are the last things on my mind.”

“It’s Sharpe now?” he asked, trying to sound casual. “What happened to Brandon, or Irish?”

“That’s your name isn’t it? It’s how everyone else around here refers to you. Since I’m just like everyone else in your eyes, I don’t see what the problem is. You sealed your end of the deal, so now it’s my turn to, sit back and play the part of your doting wife who accepts whatever you dole out and doesn’t ask questions.”

“You want to know all about me?” He moved to the sofa with her.

She shifted in his lap to face him. Dark eyes, full of understanding stared back at him. “I want to know everything about the man I married. I don’t want to feel like I’m making love to a stranger each night. You don’t have to bare your soul, but at least be willing to share a part of it with me.”

He lowered his head a fraction and massaged above his temple. He had no idea where to start, what to tell her without making himself seem more like the unfit husband he already was. “I knew I’d mess this up at some point. I never thought it would be this soon.”

“Stop saying that. You didn’t mess anything up. All I want is for you to be honest with me. I’m your wife and I’d hope by now that I’m also a friend. You once told me that you didn’t have a family. It’s not true. Not anymore it isn’t. You have me. We have each other.
I’m
your family. Since my father refuses to speak with me, you’re the only family I have.” Families are supposed to be open, honest and loving.” She regarded him fiercely. “You’ve never experienced that, have you?”

Was it that plain for everyone to see that Brandon Sharpe was a man who, not a single day of his life had ever heard the words “I love you” from another person?

“No. Those definitely aren’t the words anyone would use to describe the Sharpe household.”

“I’m sorry for whatever you had to go through, Brandon. I really am.” Ever so slightly her hand rose to explore his face. “Did your father do that to you?”

Brandon choked back a harsh laughter. Her assumption made sense considering the incidents she dealt with in her line of work.

He allowed her hand to linger on the scar. Against his better judgment, he felt compelled to answer. “My father was a drunk, Danika. He was long gone before my face got ripped apart.”

Her fingers continued its exploration. He wondered if she did it to soothe herself
and
him. “What about your mother, Brandon?”

The hope in her voice made his entire body stiffen. He contemplated lying and saying exactly what she wanted to hear, that his mother did her best and all that crap. Instead he pointed a finger to the twisted ridge on his face. “See this thing here. What you and everyone in this goddamn town have been so concerned about. I didn’t get this from some beating or trying to kill anyone to steal their ranch. Or whatever the latest version of my life story says.”

“I never thought…”

He shook his head, sucked in a ragged breath. “It was an accident. We barely had any money to begin with. After my father left, whatever we had became nonexistent. I started working in a dockyard not too far from where we lived in Dublin. It was a crap hole so of course the owner didn’t mind hiring a scrawny thirteen-year-old lad. The work never bothered me. I did everything from cleaning, welding to helping to load and unload shipments. I was helping to load a crate that day. The weather was hell. Cold, rainy with winds blowing across the Atlantic so strong it felt like it could tear the skin right off a man. For the first time I wished I was sitting inside a classroom instead of out on the docks. A piece of metal rigging broke off from one of the ships we were repairing. It got a ride on the wind and came right at me. All I remember was the feel of my flesh burning and absolute pain. I looked down at the ground. The planks were soaked with blood.”

Danika clasped her arms around him. “You don’t have to say anymore if the memory causes you pain.”

He shook his head realizing how much he wanted to confide in her. Needed to. The day was imbedded in his mind, clear as present day. The dank smell of the shipyard with the rotting planks filled his nostril. The gray, ever gray Dublin skies and the blistering wind made him shiver despite sitting in the warmth of his living room. “I must have lost consciousness at some point after that, because when I came around I was on the ground. All I could hear was the boss screaming that I’d just let one of his crates fall into the sea.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, wild-eyed. “You were a child working at his shipyard. You never should have been allowed within ten feet of that danger zone much less working there.”

“He told me to get the hell off his shipyard.”

“Oh no.” A hand went to cover her heart. “Brandon, what did you do?”

This was the part that always shamed him. “I got up and left.” He let out a loud breath. “I was soaked in blood, cold and scared out of my mind. I walked to the local clinic. They cleaned it up and told me to go to the hospital. I never went. One I didn’t have the money to pay for any treatment and I was afraid they’d ask how I got the injury. As soon as I reached home I guzzled down as much liquor as I could manage and took a needle and some thread I found lying around.”

“Oh dear God.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “That’s why…”

He nodded. “I sewed it up myself.”

“But your mother, why didn’t she—”

“She was too busy plotting her escape. A week later she up and left after cleaning out my hiding spot with all the money I had saved up from working at the shipyard. Funny thing is, if I hadn’t had been so scared shitless, I’d have known the hospital would have stitched me up for free.”

Brandon waited for her to repeat how sorry she was, the protocol response when faced with an unpleasant situation. Her head simply came to rest on his chest, right above his heart. She lay there with no apparent rush to speak.

“Say something.”

She shook her head again while her fingers clutched at the bottom of his shirt.

Accustomed to her constant chatter and thoughtful opinions, Danika’s silence sent chilling waves of panic down his spine.

He eased her off his lap, pushed her back until she was flat against the sofa cushion. He planted both hands at the sides of her head. “I was a coward, Danika. You understand what I’m saying? I let my father pound me to the ground when he had a mind for it and I couldn’t stand up to some asshole shipyard owner after I got my face hacked off on his docks. I’ve slept on sidewalks for more nights than I want to remember.” He snatched his hands from beside her. “You wanted to know everything about me and now you do. Don’t you feel sorry for me? Will that little sob story make you stay and forgive me?”