Bring Me Home (7 page)

“They did?” Penelope's smile grew wider. “Oh, that's wonderful.”

“How was Paris?” Penelope had grown from a gangly tomboy into one of the most sought-after models in the fashion world. Her pictures plastered billboards and magazines, and there had been an article about a whirlwind romance Penelope had brought to an abrupt halt when she found her man in bed with another woman. Miya had followed her life through the tabloids, but seeing her again was like the old days. “Any French hunks to dish about?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” She sat down on the bench and patted the seat next to her. “There was this one guy. If I could have stuffed him in my suitcase and brought him home I would have. Unfortunately, my publicity managers never would have stood for it. He was a new photographer.”

She flipped her hand as if that explained it all. Miya laughed. When she would have asked more, Chloe's voice interrupted, “There you are. I've been looking all over for you. We've got to get going.”

Miya cringed and introduced the two ridiculously beautiful women. The last thing she needed was instinctive competition between the two knockouts. Chloe's eyes narrowed when Miya explained that Penelope was Susan's younger sister.

Penelope just smiled at Chloe. “I can tell by the way you're looking at me that you've met my sister.”

Chloe crossed her arms over her chest. “And what a pleasure it was.”

“No bullshit. Well, I like you already.” Penelope laughed. “Susan is Susan, and that's all she'll ever be. Right, Miya? Chloe, I'm sorry you had to meet her. Did she hit on your husband or boyfriend?” She gave Chloe a quick once-over. “You're gorgeous, so any guy you had with you must have been gorgeous as well.”

Miya looked at the ceiling. This could be disastrous. The meeting of two equally beautiful women had cat-fight potential written all over it.

“Nope. Didn't bring anyone.” Chloe set her hands on her hips. “Lucky for your sister too. If she'd hit on my man, she would have had a hard time seeing where to put all the dicks she's had inside of her after I was done.”

Choking back a groan, Miya stepped between them and looped her arms through each of theirs. “Ladies, I could use a coffee.”

“Tell me something, Penelope.” Chloe shifted to look over Miya's head at Penelope. “Do you know what really happened the night Susan and Shawn supposedly screwed?”

Miya stopped dead in her tracks. “Chloe!”

“What?” Chloe shrugged. “You obviously weren't going to ask.”

Penelope tightened her grip on Miya's arm, her expression pinched with discomfort. “I do. If you want to know. My sister confessed everything to me one night a couple of years ago.”

The moment Penelope offered, reality washed away the hours and years Miya had blamed Shawn Dalton.

She already knew. She'd always known. He was right. She'd used the situation with Susan to escape her fear of being stuck.

There was no reason to hear it from anyone else. She'd made her choice, and the last thing she wanted was to go to Shawn on someone else's reassurances. “No, Penelope. I don't. I believe Shawn, and that's all I need to know.”

She wanted nothing more than to leave that minute.

“Here.” Chloe passed her the keys to the car. “I'll get Penelope to give me a ride, or I'll take a cab.”

Penelope looked between them with some confusion, but agreed. “Sure thing. Chloe and I will finish shopping—”

Miya didn't hear the rest. She was going home.

Nervousness. Plain and simple.

She was nervous as hell. That explained the shakiness in her hands and the rapid beat of her heart. She had to force herself to concentrate on the curves in the dirt road. No simple task with numerous visions of what could happen racing through her head.

She might very well be overthinking this anyway. Shawn certainly seemed to want her, but he hadn't said anything about forever. Fair was fair. She hadn't given him a chance to explain four years ago, and he might not give her the chance to show him she still loved him. She was willing to take that chance.

The small sign ahead indicated the entrance to the Dalton Ranch and she took a deep breath. This was it. Turning up the long drive, she smiled. She wouldn't let him out of bed until he gave in. He'd said he planned to convince her to come home. Now it was up to her to make him believe that she would. For him, and for herself. She'd always belonged in Dead End. She'd just had to see it for herself first.

She pulled the car to a stop in front of his house and pried her fingers from the steering wheel. Shutting the car off, she opened the door and stepped out. The sudden wish that he would come out onto the porch, invite her in with a smile and beg her to stay forever warped through her mind.

No such luck. Dead silence met her. She'd actually have to walk up there and knock. Good Lord did she ever want to run.

With a hard swallow to alleviate the lump forming in her throat, she squared her shoulders and marched up the steps. Not a lot had changed on his family's ranch, though there were some differences. The corral that had always held numerous horses now stood empty. The large barn where she and Shawn had whiled away the hours in the hayloft now sagged at the roof, its weatherworn paint cracked and faded.

She rapped her knuckles on the metal portion of the screen door and waited. The porch was new, the scent of fresh pine and wood stain filled her nose. There weren't any curtains in the windows, and the delicious smell of Mama Dalton's baking was conspicuously absent. Some things had changed. Personal things in the lives of people she'd left behind.

She cringed when she remembered the way she'd waited for Momma's emails after she'd mentioned that Joy Dalton had suffered a stroke. Damn it. She was such a bitch. She'd been so caught up in her own issues she hadn't even asked about his mother… He'd dealt with so many hardships. Losing his father when he was ten… His mother had been his hero, and Miya had been too self-absorbed to ask about her. Another mistake she had to rectify. It explained so much about the ranch. Shawn was obviously taking care of his Momma and the home.

Knocking again, she peeked into the windows. On a throw rug, near the large fireplace, was Hooch. It amazed her that the old hunting hound was still alive. He must be near fifteen. And as deaf as always since he didn't even raise his head at her knock. No one moved inside, not a sound to lead her to believe Shawn might be there.

She glanced back at the drive. She'd parked next to his truck, and there was an older model Harley-Davidson motorcycle leaning against the tall tree at the edge of the barn. It was possible he had another vehicle. Or maybe he was in one of the sheds out back.

Miya stepped down from the porch and walked toward the side of the house. A large
bang
and the resonating
crash
of something from the barn scared her. Then she heard an angry curse emanate from the structure. Guess she'd found him.

With a deep steadying breath, she took the last steps to whatever might come. Like the moment before a leap of faith into dark water, she let all the worry and fear go and blew out a slow breath. If she wanted Shawn Dalton and the life she'd left behind, she'd have to convince him that she believed him. She'd have to convince him that she was sorry.

And even if he didn't take her back, she'd know that she tried.

Which was more than she could say about the past.

Chapter Seven

As she neared the barn his perturbed voice grew louder. Just outside the large wooden doors she could finally make out what he said.

“Come out of there, you son of a bitch.”

She peeked through an opening between two boards.

He stood on top of the hay bales, shirtless, a pitchfork raised high above his head. Sweat trickled down the muscles of his back and his arms flexed as he shifted slowly along the top of the bales, eyes riveted to a spot below him, mouth set in a firm line.

She clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. What in the world…?

“Come on. Just let me know where you are.” He jumped back suddenly and yelled, driving the pitchfork into the hay before he stumbled back against a beam. His chest heaved with the exertion and Miya couldn't take her eyes from the rippling lines of his taut stomach.

She was going to call out, but he jumped back with a loud yelp and tumbled down the back of the hay bales. Landing with a resounding thud, he scurried to his feet and cautiously looked around the side. “Shit!”

Unable to contain her laughter any longer, she stepped from behind the door. “What in the world are you doing?”

He swung around in her direction, pushing a hand through his hair. “Family of snakes.” He shrugged and walked in her direction. “Damn things are gonna be the death of me.”

Miya pursed her lips in mock disgust. “I figured you would have conquered that fear by now.” Snakes never really bothered her, but she looked around at the hay-littered floor to make sure none were slithering anywhere near her feet.

He watched the floor carefully and growled. “You get over spiders?”

Ugh. “Of course,” she bluffed. “We're grown adults now.”

He pulled his shirt off an old nail and brushed the hay off the plaid fabric before slipping it on. He didn't bother with the buttons, and the shirt hung open, shifting with his movements to reveal enticing sections of his abs as he neared. “Then it won't bother you much that you walked past a hatching of orbweavers over the door?”

Miya shot away from the door instinctually. When his laughter stopped her, she spun around to glare at him. “That was cold.”

“Serves you right.” It took him several long moments to get his laughter in check, and even if she wanted to throttle him, she couldn't help but join in.

When a snake slithered around a bale of hay out of his sight, she smiled. “I'd tell you one of your critters is making its way toward you, but I don't think you'd believe me.”

He shrugged, more in control now. “My manhood can't take another blow like that, so I'm going to pretend I didn't hear you.”

“We were at Ned Jensen's birthday.” The memory came back with a flash of nostalgia. “That was the first time I realized you were scared of snakes.”

“Not scared,” he corrected. “I just don't like things that slither.”

He said the last word with a tiny shiver that was so endearing, she smiled. “I don't know how you do it, but when we're together like this, it's like the years never passed.”

“Yeah, I feel the same. Feels like yesterday when you walked away.” He met her gaze, all teasing gone. “And you made it pretty clear that you didn't want anything else to do with me. So, fun moment aside, what are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Before you say goodbye again?”

“No.” She would have said more, but he held up a hand to stall her.

“I'm not up for another of your rollercoaster-emotion sessions. If I can't have you for real, I don't want you.”

She stopped, struck by his abrupt statement. She'd rarely heard him so—matter-of-fact—and it was such a stark contrast from moments before, her nervousness returned with a vengeance. His voice was so low, so—defeated. It took considerable willpower not to run out of the barn. She could go back to New York, forget anything ever happened…

Oh, who was she trying to kid? She could move to Alaska, Antarctica even, and she'd never stop thinking about him or the life they'd planned. She'd taken what she'd thought was the easy way out once. Now it was time to take the damned hard-brick road.

“First off,” she paused, looking for the right way to ask. “How is your momma?”

“Better. It's a daily battle.” The question seemed to take him off his feet. “She'll never come home though.”

“I'm sorry.” It was such an overused platitude, but she didn't know what else to say. “I should have asked before now. She was always good to me.”

He chuckled, but the sound was hollow. “She loved you.”

She turned away and said the only thing she could say. “I was wrong.”

“About what?” The soft crunch of straw under his feet told her he came closer.

“Everything.” She sighed. “For leaving, for being selfish, for forgetting to ask after your momma. For everything.”

His hand smoothed over her shoulder and tugged gently. She turned to meet his intense gaze. The green of his eyes sparkled. “What do you mean?”

“I was young, foolish, and I ran without giving you, or my family, or your family a chance. Hell, I don't know if I would have believed you then, or listened to anyone anyway.” She shook her head, fighting the tears that burned at her eyes.

He drew her close. His body was warm and strong, and it felt so good to be in his arms. “When you left, I got angry that you didn't believe in us. By the time I realized you'd learned about Susan, it was too late. Too much time had passed. I never would have done anything to hurt you, Mi. Not intentionally.”

“I know. I think I've always known, I was just—I dealt with it the wrong way. I could blame some of my rash behavior on the pregnancy but I think it was mostly stupid pride. You were right when you said I wanted out. I didn't want to become my mother, whose life revolved around the man she loved. I wanted you.” She paused, searching for the right words to explain how she'd felt. “But I wanted more too. Susan was an out I grasped desperately. I know that now. Back then, all I could think about was how much I loved you and our baby, and how that love would keep me bound to Dead End. I wasn't ready to let go of my dreams to travel.”

“I would have been there for our child, you know.” Emotion thickened his voice. “I was so in love with you. I'd never imagined my life without you. I would have made every one of your dreams come true, just to have you by my side.”

“So much time wasted.” She buried her face in the crook of his neck. “I was too proud to come back and admit that I might have made a mistake.”

“I wanted to come after you. But I didn't. I was hurt. Mad at myself, at you, at the world.” He stepped back to meet her gaze. “I should have found you then and made you understand.”

“It wouldn't have mattered. Not then.” She reached up, placing a hand on each of his cheeks. “Only two days had passed when I miscarried. If you would have found me like that, I never would have accepted your support. I spent several years blaming our child's death on myself, and on you. It was unfair of me. And I'm so very sorry.”

“I'm sorry too. For everything. For lost time and for what you went through alone. I should have told you about Susan.” He turned into her touch, kissing her palm. “My way of thinking is, unless you have a magic rewind button in your pocket, we can't undo the past. But I don't want any more doubt. Whether we're together or not, I need you to know the truth. Let's go talk to Susan. I'm sure, after all this time, she'll—”

She placed her fingers over his lips. “I don't need Susan to tell me what I already know. I'm sorry I left you and for the horrible things I said to you in anger. I'm sorry about the loss of our baby and for not telling you.”

“It hurts. Knowing I wasn't part of that joy or loss,” he rasped. “I've thought about it since the moment you told me. How different things might have turned out if you hadn't miscarried. At first, I got angry. I wondered if you ever would have told me.”

“I had planned to.” She just hadn't thought of the how or the when. “Then I lost the baby and it became a moot point.”

“You know I always wanted kids. Hell, we'd talked about having four. We were young then, maybe too young for anything we'd planned.” He shook his head. “You weren't thinking very highly of me at that time, but I would have stepped up. You know that, right?”

“I do. I knew it then too,” she admitted. “Maybe that was part of the fear. You would have been a wonderful father, and there was no way I could have taken a baby away from you, or left my child to chase my dreams.”

“You were pretty stuck.”

God it would be easy to fall into his gift of understanding, and take the easy road. Not this time. “No. I was selfish. I'm sorry for the time I took from us. I'm even sorry for wasting the time we've had since I came home. I needed time to process what I felt, what I believed and what I want. It wasn't fair to you, but it was the only way I knew to deal with everything I was feeling.”

“And?”

“I want you.” She took a slow breath. “I probably don't deserve another chance, but I want to try again.”

“Are you sure?” His hand closed over hers. “Because I don't think I could take losing you again. I can't have doubts between us. I need to know that you believe I never did anything with Susan—”

She stopped him there. “There's no more doubt. I ran away to see the big bad world and found nothing remarkable.
Nothing
that was worth losing you. I didn't listen then, when I should have, and I hope you'll learn from my mistake. I'm hoping you'll hear me now.” Her heart raced. “I never stopped loving you, Shawn Dalton. Not for a moment.”

He stared at her, and then with a loud whoop, he picked her up and kissed her, swinging her in circles. When he set her back down her head was spinning. “I always hoped you'd come home to me.”

“It just took me a while to figure out which direction I needed to go.”

“You always were kinda stubborn.”

The teasing twinkle in his eyes was just another trait she'd missed about this man. “I had to be. Hell, dating you was hard work.”

His eyebrows scrunched and he tugged her close. “How so? I thought I was pretty easy to please.”

“Easy?” she scoffed. “You were perfect. Do you have any idea how hard it was to be with someone so perfect? Handsome, sweet and kind to a fault. Fucking amazing in bed, and brilliant, to boot. Even my folks loved you. Hell, I never had anything to contribute when my girlfriends had bitch sessions.”

“You're not making a very strong case for leaving.”

“Never had one.” She hugged him close. “No one and nothing out there ever compared to you.”

He laughed and scuffed his knuckles over his chest in a mock display of pride. “Men outside this town couldn't hold a candle to this homegrown country boy, could they?”

“Braggart,” she quipped, enjoying the hot, male scent of his skin as much as his teasing. “But true.”

She received another heady kiss that set her blood to instant boil and when his hands began roaming over her body, she gave over to his touch without hesitation. His mouth wandered, nipping lightly along her jaw and neck as he whispered against her skin, “If you ever doubt me again, don't take so long to figure it out next time.”

“No next time.” She curved her hands into his hair, tangling her fingers in the soft waves. Holding him tight, she breathed him in, afraid to let go and wake from the dream he'd wrapped around them. “No more stupid decisions,” she vowed.

He sank to his knees and buried his face against her stomach. His hands moved around to her back, pressing her close. “Oh, I'm certain we'll make those too. Just promise me from here on out, we'll always discuss things first.”

“I promise.” She smiled down at him, realizing she'd never meant anything more.

“Good.” His hands trailed over her ass to the backs of her thighs. When his fingers encountered her garter ribbons, he glanced up. “What are you wearin'?”

“Just a little something to help convince you to take me back.”

“Mmmmm. I like these.” He snapped one of the ribbons attached to her thigh-high stockings. “But you could have worn a gunnysack and I'd have taken you back.”

“Aren't you worried about the snakes?” Not that she cared at the moment with his heated hands and equally hot mouth doing such yummy things to her body.

He glanced away, scanning the hay bales nearby. “They're a bunch of harmless brown snakes, but you're right. Let's find somewhere a bit more comfortable.” Without warning he scooped her up into his arms and carried her from the barn.

“You can put me down. I'm pretty sure I can walk.” Even as she said it, she hoped he wouldn't. There was something wildly passionate about his strong arms holding her so effortlessly. He'd always made her feel safe, protected, feminine.

He took the porch steps two at a time and used his foot to swing the screen door open. “No way. I'm not giving you a moment to change your mind.”

She hated the doubt she'd put in his head and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“Damn right you're not.” He let her slide down his body with a low growl. “As a matter of fact, you'd better call your momma and tell her you won't be home for a couple of days. I have every intention of keeping you here and making love to you until you can't think straight.” He cupped her ass, his fingers working one of her ribbons free.

“I told Momma I was coming to see you,” she admitted. “I don't think she's expecting me back anytime soon.”

“Good girl.” He dragged his fingers over the sensitive skin at the curve of her ass while his lips scorched a path down her throat.

Incredible sensation raced through her body. She couldn't tell if it was his touch or his words that caused the reaction. Maybe it was the knowledge that he still wanted her. After not trusting him and walking away, she was lucky he even spoke to her. She needed him to know that she understood, and that she was grateful for this chance.