I Run to You (13 page)

For fuck sake, he had nothing against
strippers, but you would think if she was moving back to the same
town as the kid, she would at least not advertise on Main
Street.

Grunting, Coy started the truck and was ready
to pull out, waiting for traffic to let him in, when Brook’s little
car passed.

Shit.

He cut the engine and waited, looking though
the rear view and hoping she wouldn’t pull into the post office.
She passed it, and must have made a U-turn. Her car was a few
spaces up behind him, when he saw her get out.

Chewing his lip, debating— knowing Karla the
way he did, he cussed again, cut the engine, and got out. Coy
started walking up toward the drug store.

The contrast between Brook and Karla was damn
vivid. Brook had on cream linen pants, brown sandals, and a V-neck
peach shirt. Her hair shiny and warm under the morning sun—there
were small square sunglasses over her eyes—she looked hip, fresh,
casual, and summery.

“Hey.” He drew her attention just as her hand
pulled on the entry door of the drug store.

She stopped, eyed him, and with a tightening
of her lips, started to ignore him and just go in.

He stepped in her way. “I just wanted to warn
you, Karla is over at the post office.”

Brook’s head turned that way, looking across
the street. “She’s free to come and go as she pleases.”

Coy grunted. “She is. But—”

“—I can take care of myself. Now, if you’ll
excuse me.” She glared through the pink tinted lenses.

He stepped out the way, watching her yank the
door and go inside. He turned and went back to his truck. He didn’t
leave though. He leaned his hips against the door, lit a cigarette,
and rested the coffee on the cab.

Coy told himself he was not playing guard
dog, or Brook’s watchdog, and that Karla seeing him might not be a
bad thing. He did not want her to forget that she wasn’t to come
near Levi.

He sure as hell didn’t forget how selfish and
dangerous she could be.

Pulling in smoke, Coy watched Karla exit,
sifting through mail and magazines. She tossed them into the car
seat, but almost like radar, her head lifted. Her gaze was peering
up, across and toward the Drug store.

Shit again.

Coy ground his teeth as Karla walked to the
back of her car. She was so focused that way that she hadn’t seen
him yet. Sure as shit when the VW rolled down the lane, she pranced
right out the road. Right across from him.

Brook hit the brakes. Karla went round and
leaned a bit toward the window. He almost smiled as Brook kept
looking ahead, and didn’t even roll the thing down.

Karla would not be ignored. She knocked on
it, and in a brittle voice—heard half way up the street, said,
“Why, Brook Logan! You ain’t going to ignore your old friends, are
you?”

The window came down slowly, and Brook’s
voice carried, “I’ve not done that. And since you aren’t one of
them, could you move your ass out the road, please.”

Snorting, Karla stepped back and
straightened, provoking, “Heard you was out with Rafael the other
night? He is good, ain’t he? Looks like you’re just stuck with all
my left overs.”

Coy tensed, but heard Brook say after a
slight hesitation, “I think you’re a little confused about who
likes eating out of other people’s plates. But never mind. I’m
really not interested in your life, sex or otherwise, and I’m sure
you’ve something better to do than worry about mine.”

Karla laughed but Coy heard the anger in
it.

He took a step away from the truck and
crushed the cigarette, heading toward them.

Karla was saying, “Still think you’re hot
shit, don’t you? Gone off to Europe and had your little band. Come
crawling back to Mama when you didn’t make the big time.”

Brook retorted, “I’m not even going to bother
trading insults with you.”

“Karla!” Coy reached her, aware of a row of
cars trying to get by. He grabbed her wrist. “Stop acting like a
fucking spectacle. People need to get by.”

He was hauling her toward her car, but Karla
spun and used her free hand to slide her glasses up. “My, my, if
isn’t just like a high school reunion. You and little Brookie—”

“You’re stoned.” He could see her glassy
eyes. “It’s not even noon and you’re high. That is no excuse
to—”

She jerked her hand free. “What? You going to
play badass protecting Brook now? Is that how it is? She’s back
here and you think she’ll—”

“Whatever I think is none of your damn
business.” Coy growled, shoving his own glasses back to glare at
her. “You make one wrong step in this town, cause one whisper that
makes gossip that Levi might hear, and I’ll see your ass in
jail.”

“I can do what I want. You Coburns ain’t God.
I know my rights.”

Coy shook his head. “I could call the town
cops right now and they’d take one look at you and see you’re
stoned.”

“Ha! Why don’t you do that, Coy? If the old
man’s money don’t fix it, I’ll give a few lap dances and blow jobs
and be out by tonight.”

Coy let her go and looked over his shoulder
to see Brook had long gone. He glanced back at Karla. “Leave her
alone. She’s never done anything to you.”

“I wasn’t bothering poor little Brook.”

“I’m not playing games with you, Karla. Keep
you act together or Bill Dodd or not, you’ll never set foot in this
state again.”

He turned and strode over to his truck,
ignoring the fact people were on the streets, already
whispering.

Karla screamed before getting into her car,
“You’re a fool, Coy Coburn! Brook Logan wouldn’t piss you out if
you were on fire now. Playing her body guard ain’t doing nothing
but making you look the fool you are.”

Coy flipped her the bird and got in his
truck. He started it and headed out—but turned off toward Rafael's.
He pulled in, backed, beside Brook’s car. It was parked on the
side, near a private entry. She was just sitting there, apparently
not having been inside yet.

He looked down from his truck window into her
car, pushing his glasses up on his head. “She’s a lying bitch.”

Brook hadn’t looked over, and did not still.
She was staring at the entry door, fingers resting lightly on the
bottom of the steering wheel. “Go home, or wherever you were
headed, Coy.”

“Brook.” He sighed willing her to look at
him.

“That scene wasn’t about you, Coy.” Suddenly
she yanked her keys out and got out, squeezing by his truck
door.

Coy muttered a curse as she knocked on the
door.

He pulled out with a squall of tires. Fuck it
then. It was not his place to defend Rafe. He didn’t know whom
Karla screwed or vice versa. He didn’t care. He had simply been
trying to remind Brook not to trust the bitch’s word.

Heading toward Copper Creek at the maximum
speed, Coy reached for cell on his side pouch and pushed a speed
dial.

“Sunny Lightfoot.”

“Hey, it’s coy.”

“What’s up?”

Coy told him about what occurred in town.

Sunny offered, “I’ll send her another copy of
the restraining order, just to remind her of her boundaries.
Unfortunately, we can’t do anything about her harassing Brook—until
it gets threatening.”

“She was stoned out of her head.”

“No doubt. Pills I heard. There is no point
in talking to old Bill. He’s blind and lust drunk. Poor sucker
can’t see the writing on the wall. She’ll drain him of everything
he has, and walk off and leave him destroyed.”

“No doubt. But I am worried. Maybe if she
wasn’t on the drugs I would believe it was just her envy of Brook.
I don’t know. But you know how gossip is. Some kid’s loud mouth
mother is going to say something, and he’s going to repeat it to
Levi.”

“Might be time you told him... Not all of it,
hell he’s too young. But you’re going to have to, I think.”

“Shit.”

“Have Madeline and Ruby help you. Have the
family you trust around.”

Coy tossed his glasses on the dash and
muttered, “I guess I will. I don’t think she’ll do anything to him,
but she has no intention of being circumspect in town.”

“Yes. I had a feeling she came back for a
reason. Coy, do not say anything about what went on with Brook and
her, to Madeline. Not until I talk to Brook. If she wants Madeline
to know…”

“Brook doesn’t see the real threat under
it.”

“There might not be.”

“I hope not,” Coy talked a bit more then hung
up.

I know the bitch. He mentally muttered.

He arrived at the Old Mill. It perched on a
natural ridge above a wide meadow. Coy was unloading first,
replacing a few saw blades next, and doing a few favors the men
needed. Later, watching all the men on scaffolding, as they
re-shored the hewn beams, he made a decision.

Sitting on the edge of his truck bed. He was
going to wait for Jude and Mitch to come down for their lunch
break. He respected Madeline and Ruby, but he wanted his dad and
Uncle with him when he talked to Levi. He wanted their advice.

~*~

Rafe stared at Brook when she strode past him
and turned. Even had she answered his surprised greeting, he could
read the body language, and the chill in her eyes.

She shoved her sunglasses up on her head,
waited for him to close the door, and give her his full
attention.

“What’s wrong?” He slid his hands loosely
into the pocket of his black dress slacks. His heart was beating
too hard under his green silk shirt.

“Did you sleep with Karla Boggs?”

Rafe closed his parted lips and held her gaze
with his pitch-black ones for a second. Stomach titling, he walked
over to his desk, opened a drawer, and poured a shot glass full of
tequila.

Knocking it back, he let the glass smack on
top of his desk.

Again, eyes on her, he rasped, “You know.
There was a time I was nothing more than trash on the streets. Far
younger than the proper age—I did things, bad thing, steal, sell
drugs, and sell myself to rich gringos for a meal…”

Her face paled. “Rafe —”

Bitterness rose of its own accord. It was not
to be squelched. Just the thought that she believed him capable of
screwing someone who betrayed her, made him gut sick.

“I have come a long way from there.” His
nostrils flared. “At my worst, bonito, I would not so much as touch
someone who betrayed those I cared for. I do not—betray my
friends.”

Brook took a step. “Rafe—”

Rafe picked up the glass and turned, having
spent hours after their date rehearsing just when and how to tell
her of his past. The only one, besides Sunny who would know. One he
thought, who would not judge him.

He was furious that she didn’t even trust
what she knew of him all these years. If she did not trust him,
they had nowhere to go from that.

Suddenly the glass went hurling against the
corner. It shattered.

Rolling off a string of mixed Spanish swear
words, he growled, “I’m not Coy Coburn. I thought you knew
that.”

He had startled her, clearly.

“I do. Rafe—”

Whirling to face her again, he accused,
“You’re not over him.”

“I am. Karla, said—”

“You know me, dammit! You know me—better than
that.”

Brook’s face went starker white. She went to
the sofa and sat, arms tighter around herself. “I’m sorry. I know
Rafe. I do know.”

“—Brook,” his tone came level now. It took
all that Rafe had not to go to her. But she was not a high school
girl. This was not about friendship—this was about the chance he
had waited seven years for.

He sat on the edge of the desk, his tone too
cold even to his own ears. “I was fooling myself. We cannot have a
relationship. If this is what you’d think, not knowing my
background, my life before I came here—me telling you everything
about myself sure as hell won’t improve your opinion.”

“I don’t judge you. I do trust you. I just
got… caught off guard.”

He shook his head, and then stared down at
his shoes, feet resting on the imported tile. “I wait and believe
that what I did that night might mean more to you than what Coy
did. I told myself, that you'd’ know me. Know—when you were a
woman, that you could trust me.”

Brook got to her feet with brittle movements,
wiping her cheeks. Her eyes still held tears. “I’m the fool. Rafe.
I know. I knew better. I just…Coy was there—and though he got her
out of my face—just seeing them—it…”

Far from soothed by that, Rafe cut in, “Coy.
You’re twenty-four years old, and it’s still Coy.”

“No. It’s not like that. That’s not what I’m
saying.”

He pushed away from the desk, regarding her,
his hands still in his pockets. “I answered your question.”

Rafe waited a painful heartbeat. Feeling the
high he had let himself reach since she had returned—given him his
chance—shatter like the glass. “I think we’ve said enough today.
Don’t you?”

It was not really a question, but a
dismissal.

Brook read it clear enough.

She breathed in through her nose, her eyes
going over his face only a second before she turned and strode
toward the door.

Rafe stood as he was while it slammed—stood
there longer still—staring at nothing.

He shouldn’t have lost it like that. No
matter what he achieved, he was not what she wanted.

This was not how it was supposed to go down
with them….

It was maybe a half-hour before he walked to
the desk and called up front, to tell the manager that he was
leaving for the day.

~*~

Rafe got in his car sometime later, and drove
to Brook’s house.

Pulling in beside her VW, he strode toward
the door. Inside him, was turmoil, clashing emotions, but outside,
the spring sun, scents and sounds, were falling lenient around
him.

She didn’t answer.

He walked around, up the back deck steps,
observing the back door was open. Going through the cool interior,
he noticed her purse, and the mail, thrown on the counter.