“Here’s the thing,” Brady said. “You don’t go on rescues.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Except Adam knew exactly what he was talking about because it was true. Adam hadn’t been on a rescue, as in hands-on, since he’d gotten home from overseas, and they all knew it. How he’d actually thought this was some kind of secret, he had no clue. He ate some more of Dell’s sandwich, which helped ease his pain in a big way. “Jade makes excellent sandwiches.”
Dell sighed as Adam finished it. “How do you know that Jade made it?”
“Cuz you barely know where the kitchen is, much less how to use it.” Adam opened a bottle of water and drank deeply. When the last drop was gone, he swiped his mouth and studied his two brothers, who were in turn studying him like a bug on a slide. “Jesus. You two need a life.”
“Actually,” Dell said slowly, as if speaking to the village idiot, “we have lives. We’ve been thinking that you need a life, but you appear to be getting one. Want to talk about it?”
Still with the f**king kid gloves. Adam shook his head and slid him a look, because, really, since when did they talk about feelings? Without a word he turned back to the refrigerator and eyed a plate with three chocolate cupcakes on it. Nice. He pulled it out and went to work on the first cupcake.
“Those are mine, too,” Dell said.
Adam finished the first cupcake in two bites and when Dell didn’t stop him, he went for another one. “Wouldn’t want to upset the crazy person,” Adam said. “Best to let him have the cupcakes.”
Dell sighed again.
Adam licked the last of the chocolate off his fingers and handed over the empty plate before heading for the door.
“I think he’s fine,” Brady said to Dell.
“Could’ve told me that before I let him eat all my f**king food,” Dell muttered.
Adam didn’t go to poker.
Instead, he crawled into bed and slept like the living dead and woke sometime near dawn, just before whoever was coming up the loft steps got to his front door. The urge to reach for a weapon and point it at the intruder was still as strong as it had been two years ago but he no longer acted on it.
Brady let himself in and hit the light. “Don’t shoot.”
Adam shook his head and flopped back to the bed. “You’re supposed to say that before you come in.”
Brady laughed softly. “Trigger finger still twitchy, huh?”
Brady would know the feeling. He’d been army, Special Forces.
Adam closed his eyes.
“Ignoring me,” Brady said. “Good plan.” He dropped onto the bed, sprawling out on his back next to Adam. Tucking his hands behind his head, he crossed his feet, and studied the ceiling. “You’re going to have to get a duster up there, man,” he said idly, staring at the dust bunnies in the rafters. “Women don’t want to look at that shit hanging down on them while they’re concentrating.”
“Your women have to concentrate?”
Brady grinned. As his wife, Lilah was the only woman in Brady’s life now. She’d grown up with Adam and Dell, and Adam loved her like a sister—he absolutely did not want to think about what Lilah did to put that particular smile on Brady’s face.
“Lilah has no complaints,” Brady said.
Adam grimaced. “Why are you in my bed, then, if you’ve got Lilah in yours?”
“She’s got a duck emergency.”
“She finally decide to cook Abigail?” Adam asked, referring to the duck that Lilah watched at her kennels. Abigail was a menace, and half the town had been threatening to cook her for years, but Lilah loved that thing. Lilah loved everything. Even the idiot currently lying in his bed.
Brady looked pained. “Do yourself a favor and don’t let Lilah hear you talk about cooking Abigail.”
Adam just looked at him and Brady sighed. “Look, I know something happened to you when you went after Donald with Holly. What was it?”
If he let himself, Adam could still smell the caves. Smell his failure. Turning his head, he eyed the dust bunnies in the rafters.
“Okay, tell me this,” Brady said. “Is something wrong, or are you feeling sorry for yourself for some reason?”
“I’m good.”
Brady went still for a long beat. “Shit.”
Adam nearly smiled. “I’m good” was code for “I’m not going to talk about it.” It had been evoked years and years ago, when they’d been punk-ass kids. Adam had gone out and done something stupid. Shock. He’d had a run-in with a guy several years older than him, and Adam had actually gotten the best of the asshole. Said as**ole had vowed revenge, and he’d gotten it a week later, when he and four of his friends had jumped Adam and beaten the shit out of him.
He probably should have gone to the hospital, but they’d been in a foster home, the best foster home Adam and Dell had ever landed in, run by a guy named Sol Anders. Sol had been a good man, the best any of the three boys had ever known, and they hadn’t wanted to risk getting sent away.
So Adam had invoked the “I’m good” code. They’d managed to hide his injuries, and he’d recovered. Ever since, if any of them needed to be left alone, they said, “I’m good,” and that was that.
But Brady was lying there looking like he’d just swallowed a bitter pill, though he held his tongue as he rose from the bed. “Whatever. I’ll stop asking if you’re okay, but you’re on your own with Dell. You know he’s as bad as a chick.”
This was true.
Milo was on his own bed at the foot of Adam’s, and Brady crouched in front of him. The yellow Lab rolled over on his back, exposing his junk and a big grin, a blatant invitation to pet him. Brady obliged, then rose. “Going running. You coming, or you too pussy?”
Milo understood the tone if not the words, and he bounded to his feet, totally game.
They both looked at Adam.
Like he could stay in bed now. He got up and, ignoring Brady’s grin of satisfaction, pulled on his running clothes.
Seventeen
Holly stood in the grocery store perusing the rows of candy bars on display near the checkout. She needed sugar. Badly.
Earlier today, flowers had been delivered to her office. A beautiful vase of red roses.
No card.
There weren’t a lot of possibilities. There was only one man in her life, and he was in it fairly reluctantly. She wouldn’t have laid odds on Adam being the flower-sending type, and the gesture threw her. Especially since he hadn’t made a move to call or see her since they’d left Fallen Lakes.
Thinking about it had led her here for candy. She had a Snickers in one hand and a 3 Musketeers in the other. She’d been trying to make a decision between them and was leaning toward buying both when she felt a hand settle at the base of her neck.
It could have been anyone, but she knew it was Adam by the way her ni**les went hard. She angled her head back.
Yep. Adam.
“The 3 Musketeers,” he said. “Always the 3 Musketeers.”She would have liked to eat him up, or maybe put her hands all over him, but luckily her hands were full. She waved the Snickers. “But the Snickers has peanuts. That’s protein. That makes it practically a meal.”
He looked over the display. “I could make you forget the candy,” he said so casually it took her a minute to absorb the meaning of the words.
There was no doubt that he could make her forget the candy. Adam Connelly could make her forget a lot of things. Too many things. “Thanks for the flowers, by the way.”
His brown eyes met hers. “Flowers?”
“The roses that were delivered to my office earlier.”
He cocked his head curiously. A genuine response.
“You didn’t send them,” she said.
“No.”
She stared down at the candy in her hands, feeling incredibly silly. Of course he hadn’t sent the roses. She’d known it wasn’t his thing.
He tilted her chin up, his eyes regretful, and she shook her head. “It’s no big deal,” she said. “Forget it. What are you doing here?”
“Top secret mission.” He nudged her around the corner of the aisle and out of sight of the checkout clerk. Opening his jacket, he revealed…
A kitten.
The little gray ball of fluff was tucked into his hoodie pocket, fast asleep. At the sudden exposure to the bright fluorescent lights, it blinked and yawned, and looked up at Adam with sleepy adoration. “Mew.”
Adam’s hand came up to cradle the weight, the thing barely filling his palm. His work-roughened fingers gently scratched under its chin, and its eyes closed in utter bliss at the touch.
Holly knew just how the kitten felt. She’d melted from one touch of those fingers, too.
“She’s a belated wedding present to Lilah from Dell and me,” he said. “I’m just getting some supplies.”
Aw. That was possibly the sweetest thing Holly had ever heard.
“She’s cute but a complete menace,” Adam said. “She’s going to drive Brady crazy.” He flashed a badass grin, and Holly laughed. Okay, not so sweet. She should have known.
“Brady’s a pretty tough guy,” she said. An understatement, of course. “This doesn’t concern you?”
“Nah. Lilah won’t let him maim me. She likes my face.”
So did Holly. “Where did you get the kitten?”
He nuzzled the little thing, his voice soft. “Found her abandoned on our doorstep this morning. That happens sometimes—people know Dell isn’t going to turn an animal away.”
“So how did you end up with her?”
“I got in first.”
“Adam Connelly, one big softie,” she said. “Who knew?”
“Yeah.” He lifted the kitten up to his face. Man and feline studied each other. The kitten reached out and tried to bat his nose, making the man smile, his real smile, the one that reached all the way to his eyes. “She faced down Beans and Dell’s damn parrot earlier,” he said. “She’s four ounces soaking wet and held her own. She’s going to grow up a real fighter.” Still holding the kitten, he filled a cart with supplies, and though it was ridiculous, there was something about watching the big, tough Adam Connelly cradle the thing against his chest that did her in.
He checked out and pulled Holly with him out the door.
“Wait,” she said. “The candy.” She needed that candy…
He didn’t let go of her as he carefully and gently set the kitten in his truck. Then he not so gently pushed Holly up against the truck and kissed her, slipping a hand beneath her shirt at her waist, trailing his fingers along her spine. When she no longer remembered what she’d even gone to the store to buy, he lifted his head and gave her a steady gaze.
“Okay,” she said shakily, still gripping his arms. “You’re good. You should wrap that up and sell it.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to the other candy.”
Adam spent the next day up north with Brady and Donald, hitting a string of Reid ranches. Adam had provided guard dogs earlier in the year and was doing a quick training session, checking up on the dogs and handlers.
Brady flew them in their chopper, and by the time they arrived back in Sunshine, it was just past six. Adam drove Donald out to his home ranch, and for a minute, Donald sat in the cab of Adam’s truck, chin jutting toward the wing of the huge ranch house where the offices were held.
“Only one light left on,” he pointed out. “Most of my staff knows the value of having their nights off for personal time.”
Adam knew which light was on and who hadn’t given herself a night off.
Holly.
Clueless, Donald slid out of Adam’s truck. “I think I’ll head into town for a drink,” he said. “I’ll be gone awhile.” He cocked his head and studied Adam. “Long enough for any idiot to find his own way to an enjoyable evening.”
Okay, maybe not so clueless…“What the hell are you up to?” Adam asked him, eyes narrowed.
“Who me? I’m an old man. I can’t get up to much these days.”
“Bullshit.”
Donald smiled, clapped Adam on the shoulder, and then was gone.
Adam stayed in his truck a moment. “I’m not going in there,” he told Milo, who was in the backseat.
Milo yawned and plopped down. In two seconds, he was snoring.
Adam let out a long breath, shouldered open the truck, and got out. Apparently he was going to be the idiot, after all.
He found Holly sitting behind her desk, head back, eyes closed. She was wearing a wraparound dress and heels, hair piled on top of her head, glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Forget the girl-next-door fantasy and the hot-librarian fantasy—she was currently rocking the secretary fantasy big-time. “Hey,” he said.
She didn’t move and he realized she had ear buds in. Whatever she was listening to had her utmost attention. She was utterly still, with a dreamy look on her face.
He moved into the office and she still didn’t budge. In fact, she seemed to sigh in pleasure, vividly reminding him of what they’d been doing the last time he’d heard that sound come from her lips.
Then, as now, she’d been flushed and…
Aroused.
Fascinated, curious as hell, he came around her desk and perched a hip there, leaning in. The pulse at the base of her neck was fluttering, and her skin seemed dewy. “I have to know,” he murmured, “what the hell you’re listening to.”
With a screech, she jumped up, her eyes flying open. She gaped at him, then tore the ear buds out of her ears. “Adam.”