It Had to Be You (36 page)

“Yeah. I can’t—”

He couldn’t brace himself over her, and when she thought about it, she marveled that they’d gotten this far. But they had, and her body was still throbbing with pleasure. She had to give him the same. “Oh, Jake…here—” She pulled him down to his back.

He looked up at her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes so filled with heat and desire he took her breath. Poor wounded warrior. He sucked in a breath when she threw a leg over him, and not from pain this time. Her hands went to his jaw, wanting to ease the tension there. “How can I make it better?” she whispered.

“Trust me, you’re well on your way.”

She ran her hands down his chest, over his belly, which besides being ridged with muscle, quivered at her touch. She didn’t expect that sign of nerves, or her reaction to it, which was a slow melting of her insides. There was a connection here that she hadn’t counted on. Then he deepened it by whispering her name softly, longingly, and she stared down at him, her already wired senses completely overcome.

“If you’re changing your mind again,” he said in a ragged voice. “Just kill me now.”

“No.” Her fingers wrapped around his impressive erection, and holding his gaze, she lifted up and guided him home. But he didn’t get very far, and frustrated, she slumped over him. “It’s been a long time.”

“Shh.” He lifted a hand to where she was trying to help him inside her. Moving her fingers away, his thumb brushed across her center in a light, teasing circle that had her gasping at the delicious touch.

He sent her up a dizzyingly wicked smile. Had she thought he wouldn’t fit? His touch opened something deep within her, and she sank down on him, discovering he fit just right.

His fingers dug into her hip, urging her to move, and when she did, he arched up into her, their twin moans mingling in the air. With him filling her to bursting, and his thumb sliding over her, pleasure rocked her world. As they moved together in perfect rhythm, something very deep and soul-grabbing flickered between them, and she felt herself start to spiral. As she took the plunge, he went with her, pulling her down closer to him, burrowing his face in her hair as he groaned.

Afterward, they lay there entangled, breathing as though they’d run five miles uphill. Afraid she might be hurting him, she tried to slide off but his arms tightened around her.

So she stayed, her muscles still spasming periodically in pure overloaded bliss, absorbing the lazy stroke of his hand up and down her spine. Eventually he got up and went into her bathroom, and when he came out, he sat next to her in all his naked, unself-conscious glory.

“Feeling alive now?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He smiled and ran a finger over her shoulder. “I’m feeling far more than half a man, too.”

“Is that how you see yourself?”

“Without firefighting, yeah.”

“Oh, Jake.”

He stood up. “I don’t want your pity.”

“I’m not offering you any. Just a little sympathy.”

“I don’t want that, either. But I’d take round two.”

A moment ago she’d felt like cuddling him. Now she wanted to chuck a pillow at his head. “We should talk about it, Jake.”

“About what?”

“About how you’re hurting. Missing your job. Your father. Tucker—”

“I don’t want to talk.” He moved around the cabin, picking up the clothing they’d so haphazardly tossed in all directions only a little while before, pulling on his jeans before he glanced at her. “I should go.”

She had no idea why she’d expected something different. “Right.”

He sighed again. “Callie—” He looked at her for a long moment, hair tousled, clothes disheveled, looking so damn sexy she could hardly stand it. “Nothing.”

Disappointment was a vice on her heart, cooling her still-heated skin. “Bye, Jake.”

“Bye.” Her front door shut behind him.

Body still humming, Callie lay back. “That was it,” she told herself. “No more.” So why her body quivered and hungered for more, even as she turned over and forced herself to sleep, was a complete and irritating mystery.

W
hat seemed like only ten minutes after he’d crawled onto his cot, Jake awoke with a start. This was due to Tucker climbing off the couch and kicking him on the back of the head with his foot as he did—not, Jake was certain, entirely by accident.

“Sorry,” Tucker muttered, sounding anything but.

Jake had been dreaming about being back in Callie’s bed, which had been a great place to be. So great that when he’d been there last night, he hadn’t wanted to leave, which in turn had given him a panic attack, and he’d nearly killed himself to get out. “What the hell time is it?”

“Five thirty. Time to rise and shine, city boy.”

Jake had to laugh at that. “You used to be a city boy yourself. You used to whine like a baby when I’d wake you for kindergarten.”

“Yeah, well, that was a damn long time ago.” Wearing only his boxers, Tucker grabbed his jeans off the floor and headed toward the bathroom.

“I’d have to peel you off me to get you on the bus,” Jake called out.

Tucker tripped but caught himself. The bathroom door slammed behind him.

Jake lay back and studied the ceiling. Dawn never seemed this early when he was in the firehouse. And it was butt-cold out here for spring. The windows were fogged.

He didn’t want to get up. He’d have liked to just lie there and think about the amazing sex he’d had last night, but as with everything out in the boondocks, even that had ended badly.

His own fault. He’d been a shit for leaving like that, when all she’d wanted to do was talk, and he deserved whatever she dished out today. He wondered what form his torture would take. Feeding more pigs? Moving more cows?

And who willingly did those things every day?

Maybe these people were all crazy. Yeah, that would explain a lot.

The shower turned on.

All hell, they weren’t crazy. No one crazy would get up at dawn like Tucker and work so hard or be so dedicated. And Jake had to admit, stretching, wincing at the ache in his shoulder, that his baby brother was both. He wore responsibility surprisingly well.

An extremely welcome change.

After a few more minutes, the bathroom door opened and a fully dressed Tucker headed toward the front door.

“Tuck?”

One hand on the door, Tucker hesitated. “Yeah?”

“When are you going to forgive me for leaving you?”

“I was only five, you were nothing to me.”

A lie. They both knew that. They’d been everything to each other. “You know I had to go,” Jake said softly. “Mom—”

“I don’t care.”

“She was jealous of us. She had all the control then, and she used it—”

The front door slammed shut. Before Jake could lie back, it was whipped open again. “You going to help with chores or what?” Tucker demanded.

“I’ll help.”

“I know you don’t want to get your hands dirty, so maybe you could just show up in the tack room and help organize the gear for our day trip.”

“I don’t give a shit if my hands get dirty. I just wasn’t used to trying to direct a damn cow—”

The door slammed again and Jake was left alone. He got up slowly, shoulder stiff, feeling twice his age. A hot shower didn’t help.

He stepped outside and glanced at Callie’s cabin. He could still be in there right now, holding her gorgeous body and getting lucky again. But no, he’d had to run out like a bat out of hell rather than talk. He hated talking, especially about what she’d wanted to talk about—himself and his feelings.

He made his way to the barn. Moe gave him the evil eye as he entered. “Okay, listen,” he said, stopping at his stall, extending a hand to pet him. “How about a peace treaty?”

Moe bared his teeth.

Jake yanked his hand back. “Or not,” he muttered and went to the tack room. A few days ago he and Eddie had moved the puppies and their mother there, onto a soft bed of hay. They’d named the brown dog Tiger, for her fierce protective tendencies, and she seemed proud of it. Now the dog raised her head and sniffed at him, and then let him pet the puppies, which sent them all into wiggle, mewling mode.

At least somebody here liked him.

Living alone and working twenty-four hour shifts didn’t suit a dog’s life, so he didn’t have one. But he stroked the belly of a warm, chocolate brown puppy and felt a yearning inside him.

Knowing he couldn’t take one home, he sighed and went looking for some sign of what Tucker needed done. He had no idea, and no one was around, so he left, walking up to the big house in the early-morning sun. He didn’t hear a sound. No planes, no cars, no honking trucks, nothing. Just the occasional snort of a horse, the clucking of a hen or two.

The sky yawned wide in front of him, as vast as the land around him. Towering rocky canyons surrounded them, outlined by thick oaks and sycamores. Nowhere to go, no fires to put out, no purpose. Even more depressing was the little niggling voice inside saying,
What if this is all you have? What if you can never go back to firefighting?

Outside, Lou kneeled before a toolbox in front of Callie’s Jeep and Eddie’s truck. They’d upped his hours at the ranch because he and Marge needed the income, but the truth was, the man kept all their equipment running smoothly and was damn handy. Just yesterday he’d made a hero out of himself when he fixed both the fussy hot tub and the microwave in the big kitchen.

Lou nodded to Jake but didn’t say a word. Eddie stood in the corral working with one of the horses. He nodded to Jake, too, but also kept to himself.

Everyone had a purpose, a reason for being there. Everyone but him.

Jake shoved his hands in his pockets and headed inside. Still no sign of Tucker. In the kitchen, he pilfered one of Amy’s excellent banana nut muffins off the stove. He could hear the guests conversing in Japanese in the dining room so he wandered into the weight room and over to a weight bench. Lying down, he reached up for the bar. There was only thirty pounds on it, and his left hand gripped just fine but his right…he couldn’t even get it to the bar. He had to physically maneuver it with his left hand. Ridiculous. He’d been doing his exercises, including a brutal set of thirty push-ups a day, and he still couldn’t reach for anything. Lifting the weight was out of the question, he knew that, and yet out of apparent stupidity, he tried anyway.

And nearly strangled himself when his right arm collapsed and the bar landed across his windpipe. He fought with it for a moment, but couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
Good one, Ace,
he thought as his vision swam. Nice way to go—

“Ohmigod.” He caught a whir of fiery hair, which hit him in the face, and then the weights were lifted.

Callie glared down at him, looking more furious than he’d ever seen her. “You have a death wish?” She put a hand to his chest, holding him down when he would have risen. “Don’t you know your own damn limitations?”

Grabbing her hand in his, he pushed it aside and sat up, trying not to gasp for breath or look like he hurt like hell. “I would have been fine.” This was spoken in a thin, hoarse voice that didn’t fool either of them.

Callie shoved her hair out of her face, and let out a breath. “I was in my office, and heard the clang of the weights. I thought it was a guest, and nearly didn’t come check.” She shook her head. “You could have killed yourself, you idiot.”

Idiot? Did he call
her
an idiot when she got hurt? “I’m not paying to stay here to be insulted.”

“You’re not paying to stay here at all,” she pointed out. “I mean it, Jake, that was the stupidest thing—” She broke off when he sank back to the bench, lifting his left hand to rub his shoulder. “Did you hurt yourself?”

Yes, he hurt like hell, and was damn tired of it, too. “I’m fine. Thanks for the lecture. You can get back to work.”

“Let me see.”

“What? No.”

“Take off your shirt.”

A laugh choked out of him. “Didn’t we do this in reverse a week ago?”

“Here—” Impatient, she unbuttoned his shirt herself, her tongue caught between her teeth with concentration.

Jake stared at that tongue while her fingers brushed his bare skin, sweeping the material off his chest and shoulders. “I decided sleeping with you again would be extremely detrimental to my mental health. So I’m begging you, put that tongue away.”

Ignoring him, she touched his scar, from armpit to the tip of his shoulder. “You didn’t split anything.”

“No.” Apparently his lower body didn’t get the memo about not sleeping with her, because it was reacting to her touch. “The incision’s closed.”

“But it hurts?”

“Only when I breathe.”

Her fingers kneaded lightly, in a motion that was both torture and pleasure. “You’re not massaging it enough. The scar tissue is stiff.” She dug in with her fingers, stopping when he sucked in a pained breath. “Too hard?”

“Nah.” Sweat broke out on his brow.

Shaking her head, she let out an irked mutter and continued to massage his shoulder and scar, manipulating it much the same way his physical therapist had. “You hanging in?” she asked a few minutes later.

He decided not to answer that because he wasn’t sure. Eventually she stopped and pushed him back to the bench when he would have risen. “Stay,” she said, and whirled away, only to come back a moment later and set an ice pack on him, making him yelp at the cold. “Ten minutes, you big baby.”

“Damn, such a bedside manner. Are you this kind to all the men in your life?”

“You could ask my ex. I once held his own shotgun on him.”

He shuddered. “And here I thought you were so sweet. Why did you get married so young?”

“Besides being stupid?” She lifted a shoulder. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She touched his ice pack. “It’s a little pathetic, actually.”

“Well, I’m feeling a little pathetic myself. Tell me.”

“It’s just the same old poor neglected kid story. You know, where no one looks at the girl twice, so when a guy finally does…” She shrugged again, looking embarrassed. “I fell for Matt hard. Hook, line, and sinker.”

“You got your heart broken.”

“I lived.” She smiled grimly. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Yeah, you are,” he said. “And softer, too.”

She looked at the weights that had nearly strangled him. “I still can’t believe what an asinine move that was.”

“Gee, don’t hold back.”

“I never will.” She looked at his shoulder. “Your father fell off the barn roof once. He’d been up there fixing a leak, insisting he knew what he was doing—he didn’t, by the way, but he was so stubborn. I guess I know where you get that.”

“I’m not like him.”

“How would you know?” she asked softly. “I mean, in all the years I was here before he died. I never saw you here. How come?”

“Did he talk to you about that?”

“Never.”

“Well, there’s your answer.”

“You mean he never asked you to come?”

Pride dictated he change the subject, but he decided to tell her the truth instead. “Not since I was twelve and told him I wanted to be a big city firefighter.”

She looked at him for a long moment. “His loss then, for believing a twelve-year-old could possibly already know what he wanted in life.”

“I did know what I wanted. I wanted him to work a little harder at wanting me.” The minute the words slipped out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back. They were too open, too raw, and far too revealing.

“His loss,” she repeated gently, and adjusted his ice pack again. “I remember being twelve. I’d see other kids getting rides to school. They’d have a sack lunch, or money. A hug if they wanted. It all seemed so normal.” Her wistful tone and soft breath brushed over his skin. “I used to wish for that.”

Him, too. Knowing he’d missed out, he’d tried to give a sense of normality to Tucker, though he’d failed miserably.

“When I landed here, I felt as if I’d come home for the first time in my life.” Her fingers danced over his skin lightly. He wasn’t even sure she realized she was doing it; he just didn’t want her to stop. “Richard was everything to me,” she said. “He taught me so much, accepted so much.”

Was she waiting for him to say he’d made a mistake in not coming here sooner? Because he wasn’t going to. That street had gone two ways, and as she’d said, he’d only been a kid. Richard could have reached out, too, and the age-old resentment balled up in his gut. “Yeah, he was a real saint.”

“Oh, Jake.” Her smile was so sad. “He was so much more than I’d ever had before, yes, but I wasn’t blind. He loved this place over and beyond all else.”

“Including his own flesh and blood.”

“Including his own flesh and blood,” she agreed. “It was just who he was. Stubborn as a bull, hard-headed to boot, and God forbid anyone not agree with him. He knew what he wanted at all times and didn’t understand why everyone else didn’t want the same thing. He could be”—her smile was wry—“curmudgeonly. Difficult.”

“An ass.”

“Well, that’s a matter of opinion,” she said loyally. “But the truth is, most of his employees worked hard for him because he paid well and fair, but he wasn’t loved by any stretch of the imagination.”

Off-kilter and off balance, he looked at her. “At his funeral service, you were furious with me for not grieving. Why tell me all this now? What’s changed in me?”

“Maybe it’s not you who changed.”

“And maybe it’s both of us,” he said quietly. “Maybe I’m rethinking things, too.”

“Your life has changed.”

“Drastically.”

“And it makes you sad.”

“Extremely.”

“I’d say I’m sorry but I don’t want you to think I’m pitying you.” She smiled softly. “But have you thought that maybe changing your life’s path could turn out to be a good thing? That you can find something just as rewarding as firefighting?”

“I’m not that evolved.”

Her radio chirped and she rose. “Lie still and cool your shoulder down.”

After she’d gone, he tried to stay still, which he managed for five minutes. Restless, he tossed aside the ice pack and stood, carefully rolling his shoulder, telling himself he didn’t hurt any worse than usual. A lie. Fire burned all the way from his throat to his fingertips. Buttoning his shirt, he walked down the hall of the house, which was quiet. Too quiet.