A pause.
“Tomorrow, Brook Lynn.”
There was a promise of something in his tone. But exactly what he was promising, she didn’t know.
* * *
JASE HAD DEALT with his fair share of hard-ons throughout the years, but never one so determined to hang on for dear life. It wanted Brook Lynn, and absolutely no one else would do—not even his own hand. The knowledge panicked him. Made him realize just how dependent on her he’d become.
He remembered the way she’d begged him for more...please, more...the way he’d craved those pleas like a starving man craved food. Remembered thinking, I will die without this...without her.
No. Hell, no. He couldn’t allow himself to depend on anyone like that.
He’d made a huge tactical error, he realized. He should have taken her while he’d had the chance, that first night inside his bedroom. He would have already moved on. Surely.
When she arrived for work the next morning, she told him the day’s affirmation—Today I will gladly share my expertise and advice with others, for there are no sweeter words than “I told you so”—as he handed her a shopping list, cash and keys to his car.
“You’re on your own today, honey.” He needed distance. Perspective.
She gaped at him. “Uh, o-kay.”
He strode outside to clean the gutters. She followed him out, only to stand in place for a long while, watching him, her mouth opening and closing, as if she had plenty more to say to him but didn’t quite know where to begin. Finally, she left, and though he’d expected to be able to breathe again, he felt more oxygen-deprived than ever.
The weather. Had to be the weather. Though it was 8:00 a.m., it was already wretchedly hot. The temperature would probably top one hundred and five today. But it won’t even come close to how hot I am for that girl.
Have to resist. It’s for the best, just as she said.
As he worked, several town residents swung by to “check on things.” Namely: to probe into his life. What did he do for a living? Was he single or dating Peggy Newcomb’s granddaughter? Would he be able to fix the clock tower in town? He knew he’d invited the attention by helping out two of the town’s chattiest residents, but still—small-town living was sometimes more nightmare than dream. He wasn’t rude, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming, either, and he absolutely did not answer any questions. Also, a handful of women brought Beck baskets of food. The disturbances put him behind schedule.
When Jase finally finished cleaning the gutters, he turned his attention to the fence surrounding the property. His mind continually drifted to Brook Lynn. He liked that she’d hustled him. That she’d enjoyed every moment of it...then kissed him as if only his lungs contained the air she needed to survive. He’d been on fire for her. Still was.
He wasn’t sure how many more hours passed before she returned and called him inside for lunch.
As he walked into the house, he tried to summon all his strength.
She had her back to him, steam wafting around her as she drained a pot of noodles. “Hungry?”
“Yes.” For more than food. He used a towel to wipe the sweat from his face. “I’m sorry I was so abrupt with you this morning.”
“That’s good.”
“I’m...ready to talk about what happened last night.” Maybe then he’d finally unknot.
She stiffened slightly. “Oh. You mean the fact that we made out again and you liked it?”
Loved it. “Yes.”
“Well, then. Talk away.”
Tell her the truth. Tell her everything—well, almost everything. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know how to deal.”
She spun, her blue eyes wide. “You feel things? What kind of things?”
“You can’t tell?” He took a step toward her.
“Well, last night you were aroused. But right now? I have no idea. Like I told you before, you’re very difficult to read.”
The doorbell rang, stopping him from taking another step. He was disappointed. He was relieved. “I’ll get it.”
She sighed. “Put on a shirt at least.”
No need. It was his friend Pepe, the tattoo artist.
Pepe held a big black bag of necessary equipment, and when Jase explained that he’d brought the tattoo shop to Brook Lynn, he expected her to chicken out—he might even have wanted her to chicken out, because he couldn’t bear the thought of her in any kind of pain. But he’d promised to help her, so he would help her.
She trembled as Pepe showed her the book of designs he’d created just for her, and didn’t seem to notice when the guy looked her up and down with interest. Jase grew tenser by the second. He’d paid the guy to work, not to scope out a potential lay.
“Sure you want to do this, honey?” Jase asked her. Without the whiskey giving her courage, and the cigar making her feel badass, maybe she’d decide—
“Yes,” she said with a nod, pointing to the design she wanted. She raised her chin, determined. Always determined. Her against the world.
He wondered how many times he’d done the same thing when backed against a wall, in prison and out, when things were at their worst. Even when things were at their best—knowing that could end at any moment. Determination and pride were all he’d had. And it shouldn’t be that way for her, he thought. Not now, not ever.
Not that determination was a bad thing; it wasn’t. But he hated the circumstances that had robbed her of her innocence. Circumstances he could guess. People making fun of her for her condition. Her parents dying, one after the other. Her uncle abandoning her. Becoming the mother to her sister. Worn down by too many responsibilities. Never able to do the things she wanted.