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Watching him walk away, she knew she should just let him go. “Wait,” she called, causing both the bartender and Damien to look at her.
She shot the bartender a glare that had him turning away, suddenly busy with rearranging something behind the bar. Since Damien made no move to come back to her, she rose and walked to him instead. “If you’d just let me explain—”
“You don’t have to.” He cut her off, flashing her a twisted smile. Cramming his cowboy hat back on his head, he grabbed his coat from the coatrack and headed out the door.
Inexplicably close to tears, Eve watched him go. Then, avoiding the bartender’s gaze, she grabbed her coat from the booth and made her way outside into the swirling, blowing snow.
Outside, the snowstorm seemed to be gathering strength. She hurried to her vehicle, shivering against the blustering wind.
Her Ford Explorer was old, but she kept it well-maintained. There was no reason for it not to start, but when she turned the key in the ignition and got only a quiet click, she knew she was in trouble.
Just to be sure, she tried again.
Nothing.
Breath blowing plumes in the frozen air, she checked her watch. Ten o’clock. Nothing to do but go back inside the Corner Bar and see if the bartender would give her a ride home.
It was either that or call someone to come get her, and then she’d have to explain why she’d been at the bar drinking by herself.
Cursing under her breath, she pushed open the car door. The icy wind hit her like a slap to the face, making her raise the hood on her jacket as a shield. Hunched against the cold, she made her way back in the direction she’d come.
“Car trouble?” Damien Colton appeared out of the darkness, snow dusting his hair and shoulders.
Miserable, she nodded. “It won’t start.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
She handed over the car keys, watching as he attempted to start her car with the same results. “It’s either your battery or the alternator. Either way, it’s too cold and stormy to do anything about it tonight. I’ll give you a ride home and you can deal with your car later.”
“Great.” She followed him to his pickup. At least now, he’d have no choice but to listen to her explanation.
The first thing she realized when she saw his truck was that it looked awfully familiar. “Is this the same—?”
“Truck I had back before I got convicted? Yes.” He unlocked the passenger-side door and opened it for her, waiting while she climbed up before closing it.
The cab of the older truck had a bench seat. Thoughts of what she and Damien had once done on that very same seat made her flush warmly.
Once he’d gotten in, she watched as he started the engine, waiting for him to elaborate.
When he didn’t, she sighed. “Look, about what I said earlier—”
“No need to explain.” He cut her off brusquely. “You of all people don’t owe me anything.”
“I owe you an explanation. I don’t want you thinking the reason I—”
Muttering a curse, he slammed on the brakes, sending the pickup into a spin on the snowy roads. They did a nearly perfect donut, ending up facing the same way they’d been going. Damien inched them forward, until they were on what appeared to be the shoulder of the road.
Then, while she still reeled with shock, he reached for her, yanking her up against him and capturing her mouth. He kissed her long and hard and deep. When he raised his head, Eve couldn’t find her breath.
“What was that?”
“Me proving to you that you want me.”
“I never said I didn’t.” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “I said I couldn’t be in any sort of relationship with anyone right now.”
“Relationship? Hell, I don’t want a relationship.”
Confused, she looked at him, so brooding and dark and dangerous. “Then what do you want?”
“Sex,” he said, his tone harsh. “I just wanted to have sex with you.”
Stunned, she couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. “Sex?” she finally repeated. “Wow, you certainly don’t believe in sugarcoating it.”
“Why call a spade anything other than a spade? I want you, Eve. You want me, too, I can tell. Neither one of us is attached right now and we’re both adults. Why not?”
For a second she closed her eyes, tempted beyond belief. Massimo in Italy had wanted the same thing, just sex, though he’d prettied it up with honeyed words and candy-coated lies. In the end, she thought, it might have been better, at least for her, if he’d told the truth. Then maybe she wouldn’t have felt like such a fool when it ended the way it had.
“I appreciate your honesty,” she said slowly. “And yes, I do find you attractive. Very much so.”
He crossed his arms, watching her, waiting. She recognized the look she saw on his face. He was expecting to be hurt, wounded, as he’d been for the last fifteen years. He really didn’t believe she’d sleep with him, and any explanation she’d give him would reinforce his apparently deep-seated belief that he deserved to be treated poorly.
Any explanation that is, but the truth.
“Damien, I’m pregnant.”
This he hadn’t expected. “You’re…what?”
“This summer I went to Italy. I took the trip by myself, to celebrate the last year of my thirties. When I was there, I met a man. We had the kind of thing you just proposed, only I didn’t know it at the time.” To her chagrin, her throat closed up.
“You’re pregnant,” he repeated.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Does the father know?”
Now she hung her head. “This is the hardest part of my story. He disappeared. I looked for ten days, but I couldn’t find him.”
“You didn’t know his name.”
“He called himself Massimo. One word. Silly, but I thought it romantic.”
Damien let that one go, bless him. “Are you keeping the baby?”
“Oh, yes.” Cradling her stomach protectively, she nodded. “I want this baby very much. And you’re the only one who knows.”
Again she’d surprised him, judging from the look on his face. “You haven’t told your family?”
“No. I’m waiting as long as I can.” Oddly enough, telling him made her feel as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. “You know how this town can be. My mom will be thrilled—she’s been wanting a grandbaby for forever. But I feel sort of foolish, goofing up so badly at thirty-nine years old.”
The truck heater started blasting, making them both laugh.
“I’d better get you home,” he said, putting the truck back into gear.
He drove slowly, the heavy vehicle making sure progress over the snowy roads. When they reached her house, he left the engine running as he walked her to the door.
“If you ever need someone to talk to,” he began, making her smile.
“Thank you. Ditto for you.” Then, unable to help herself, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek.
Unmoving, he watched until she opened the door and went inside, locking it behind her.
A moment later she heard his truck drive away outside. Eyes stinging with completely unreasonable tears, she listened as the sound faded, until all she could hear was the mournful howling of the wind as it heralded the approaching storm.
Arriving back at the ranch, Damien breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that most of the cars were gone, which meant most of the huge mess of family had gone home. Except for the resident ones.
Parking his truck, he puzzled over Eve Kelley. Of all the girls he’d grown up with, he would have expected her to be married with a bunch of kids by now. Large families were common around these parts—look at his own family. She’d been pretty, popular and fun. The guys had practically fought over the chance to date her back in the day, and now she was nearly forty, unmarried and pregnant.
Talk about the randomness of fate.
None of it, not circumstances or her pregnancy, did anything to dilute his desire. He still wanted her. He’d take her up on her offer to be friends, knowing if she’d give him a chance, he’d prove to her that they could be more. Friends with benefits. He grinned savagely, liking the sound of that.
The house felt settled as he walked in, shedding his coat and hanging it in the hall closet and placing his cowboy hat on the hat rack alongside all the others. Lights from the immense Christmas tree illuminated the great room. All of the earlier boxes and mess had been cleaned away and the decorated mantel combined with the tree to look festive and, oddly enough, holy. Damien couldn’t help but remember the way he’d felt as a small boy, awestruck and overwhelmed at the beautiful tree. He’d used to lie on his back underneath the branches and peer up through them, marveling.
To his surprise, a spark of that little boy still remained.
He wandered over and stood in front of the tree, still thinking of Eve, then eyed the hallway that led to his father’s office. Might as well do some poking around while the entire house slept. Darius never locked the door, believing his inviolable authority made him invulnerable.
Maybe so, but Damien had been screwed over enough.
Moving quietly, he slipped down the hallway and opened the door. Conveniently, Darius had left the desk lamp on.
Damien took a seat in the massive leather chair and started with the obvious—the desk drawers. A quick search turned up exactly nothing.
But, then, what had he expected? Darius was too shrewd to leave incriminating documents anywhere they could be easily read.
Which meant there had to be a safe.
He turned to begin searching for one when a movement from a shadowy corner made him spin around.
Duke stood watching him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
“What are you doing?” Duke asked, “You know the old man’s going to be pissed when he finds out you went through his papers.”
“Maybe,” Damien allowed. “If he finds out. I’m not planning on telling him. I’m trying to figure out what happened to our inheritance.”
“What do you mean?”
Since Duke didn’t sound too perturbed, Damien figured his brother hadn’t been given the same unlikely story as he’d heard today. “I asked Darius about it earlier today. You know how I’ve been wanting to buy my own ranch, maybe in Nevada or Idaho?”
“Yeah.” Duke uncrossed his arms and came closer. “Don’t tell me he refused to give you your money. He might be conservator, but you’re well over the age of twenty-one. And you were in prison at the time you turned twenty-one.”
“No.” Damien watched his brother closely. “He didn’t refuse to give it to me. He said it was all gone.”
“What?” Duke’s casual air vanished. Shock filled his brown eyes, so like Damien’s. “How can three million be gone, just like that?”
“Exactly. Tell me, bro. Did you get your inheritance when you turned twenty-one like you were supposed to?”
“Hell, no. He offered to let me use it to buy a share in the ranch and I took it. Darius needed cash for some reason, and I wanted to make sure I’d always have my house and land. So I bought my hundred acres from him.”
“Damn.” Damien closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he saw his brother watching him, a worried expression on his handsome face.
“Are you okay?”
“No,” Damien exploded. “I’m not okay. The entire time I was in prison, I was counting on this money being there for me when I got out. The money the state’s going to pay me won’t buy even twenty acres. How the hell am I going to make a fresh start without any cash?”
“Surely there’s been a mistake.”
“I don’t think so.” Grimly, Damien resumed his search for a safe. “How good are you still at guessing lock combinations?”
“What? You mean to break into Darius’s safe?”
“Once I find it, yes.”
Duke narrowed his eyes. “Well, then, let me help you out. I know where it is. I’ve been in here often enough when Darius had to open it.” He crossed to the wall where a huge, ornately framed oil painting of the ranch hung. “It’s behind this.”
Removing the picture revealed a small wall safe, black, with a touch-pad combination. The entire thing was maybe two feet square.
Damien stood back. “Have at it, bro.” As teens, Duke had exhibited an exceptional skill for picking locks and determining combinations. Within five minutes, he had the safe open.
“There you go,” he said, stepping back.
Reaching inside, Damien extracted a leather-bound notebook and a sheaf of manila folders, held together by a rubber band. There was also a tiny metal box, like the kind used for petty cash. He removed everything and placed it on the desk.
“I’m out of here, man,” Duke said.
“Will you just stand guard for me? I just need a few minutes.” He started with the leather book. “Surely there’s something in here that will tell what happened to my inheritance.”
Inside the book were receipts for wire transfers. All of them were withdrawals from his account made over a period of three years. “Bingo,” he said softly. “My money.”
Though clearly reluctant, Duke moved over to take a look.
“How do you know it was yours?” Duke asked. “You know when Grandfather died he left all of our money in the same account. I authorized Darius to take mine, and maybe Wes, Finn, Maisie and the others did the same.”
“But I didn’t authorize anything. Yet Darius claims the account has been closed and there’s nothing there.”
“Did you see the bank statement?”
“He wouldn’t let me.” Damien flashed him a grim smile, reaching for the manila folders. “Oh, damn.”
