Authors: Maisey Yates
And as quickly as that heat overtook him, shame rushed behind it in an icy chill, cooling the instant, inappropriate attraction.
He moved her back slowly, making sure she was steady. “I imagine we better get back,” he said.
She nodded, her expression blank. “Yes,” she said.
They both got back on their horses, and on the way back, they didn't make conversation. Instead, Gage spent the entire ride trying to convince himself that the burning sensation in his palm was all in his head. It certainly wasn't from touching her.
If he needed to get laid, he could hit up any woman here. Except for this one. She was the last woman he should ever touch. He was here to sever ties, not make new ones. Here to clean up messes, not make things worse.
The biggest problem with that was, he didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to fixing things.
In fact, all he'd ever done in his life was leave things broken.
But he'd be damned if he broke Rebecca Bear any further.
CHAPTER SEVEN
S
HE
HAD
STOPPED
shaking by the time she got to her store, but only just. He had touched her again. That was the second time in the space of twenty-four hours. And it wouldn't be so bad, except that she could still feel it. Not just the touch from earlier today, but the one from last night.
Her skin burned. Her entire body burned. It wasn't... It wasn't normal. And it was about ten kinds of messed up.
Talking to him today had probably been a mistake. But she had really needed to know how much of the story his family knew. The fact that he was the only one... It was strange. They shared a secret, in spite of the fact that they had never had a conversation until last week.
But then, that about summed up her entire relationship with Gage West. He had loomed large over her entire existence in spite of the fact that they had never come face-to-face.
It was strange and comforting to realize she had also been in his.
The front door to her store opened, the little bell above the door signaling the entry of a patron. She looked up, and was immediately flooded with guilty heat.
“Jonathan,” she said, as her half brother made his way into the building.
He looked... Well, about as pleasant as he ever did. Which wasn't very. His dark hair was tied back in a low ponytail, his dark eyes, very similar to her own, glittered with irritation.
“Good to see you. I haven't heard from you in a few days.”
“I've been busy.”
“Why have you been busy? Because I'm tempted to think that you've been avoiding me.”
She loved her brother. She loved him more than anyone else in her life. That didn't mean her relationship with him wasn't difficult. Jonathan had stepped up and taken care of her after their mother had left when she'd been eleven.
She was well aware that not very many twenty-one-year-old boys would want to take care of their half sister. But he had. He had worked two and three jobs to make sure she was well taken care of and that child services wouldn't take her away.
But, the problem with Jonathan was that he had yet to realize that she had grown up, and that she didn't need him to direct everything anymore.
“I'm not avoiding you, you paranoid weirdo.” Except that she was. And now that she had phrased it that way, he was probably absolutely certain of that fact.
“That's so weird, because you haven't been answering my phone calls.”
“Not on purpose. I've just been busy. Store. I'm a homeowner now, so that's some responsibility. Which you should know something about.” Jonathan's construction business had been particularly successful over the past couple of years. He did most of his business outside of Copper Ridge, seeing as his chosen profession put him in direct competition with one of the town's favorite sons, Colton West. It was always Wests.
“I'm never too busy to talk to you,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “You need a girlfriend.”
“I don't have girlfriends.”
She put her hands up. “I don't judge.”
“You know that isn't what I meant. I meant I don't do long-term relationships.”
She frowned. “That, I judge a little bit.”
“Well, we both know you don't date at all. So maybe reserve judgment.”
She scowled. And, this was why she hadn't wanted to talk to her brother. He always got under her skin. And when that skin was still burning from the touch of the last man on earth she should have ever let put a hand on her, it was extra obnoxious.
“I don't think I asked for your commentary,” she retorted.
“I know I didn't ask for yours.”
“But you walked into my store. Had I gone to your work site, then I would've had to put up with you. But, you're the one who came into my house.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And, don't think I don't notice that you're limping.”
Her scowl deepened. “I'm fine. Jonathan, you have to stop treating me like I'm a kid. And you have to stop treating me like I'm an invalid.”
His face looked like it had been carved from stone. “In fairness to me, for most of the time I raised you, you were both a kid and kind of an invalid.”
“Thanks.”
“I'm not trying to offend you. I'm just saying. I'm used to protecting you. And I'm used to looking out for you.”
“But look at this,” she said, indicating the store. “Look at everything I have. This place. Look what we've built. Nobody expected us to be successful, and you know that. And we both are. But I didn't make it here without you. I appreciate everything you've done, Jonathan. But you have to stop worrying so much.” Those words tasted bitter on her lips, because she knew if he had any idea why she was limping, he would cheerfully commit murder.
“Fine. I just wanted to stop in on my way out to Tolowa.”
“I appreciate it. Everything is fine. Completely fine.”
Finally, she was able to usher her brother out of the store. As soon as he was gone, she let out a long sigh of relief. She always felt like he could tell when she was lying. Not that she often lied. She had never really had anywhere to sneak out to when she was a teenager, and she hadn't ever dated back then either.
The lies she had always told him were that her leg didn't hurt. Or that she didn't really want anything for Christmas. That she hadn't remembered it was Mother's Day either, and she was definitely not thinking about their mother. Little lies here and there to try to ease his stress. Because he had always done the best he could. To protect her. To take care of her. Those little lies were the way she gave back.
She didn't want to ask more of him on top of all the other things he did. Didn't want him to know when she was in pain. Or when she was lonely. It wasn't his job to take care of all that mess too.
The door opened again and she turned, her heart tumbling down into her feet when she saw Gage come in, wearing his typical uniform of skintight T-shirt and well-fitted jeans. When she thought of how closely he had come just now to encountering Jonathan, her mouth dried, anger spiking through her.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought we should talk about the kind of work you're doing.”
“I think we should talk a lot less.”
“I think you should help me with some of the paperwork I'm going through. And, help me make some decisions about the properties here downtown.”
“What?”
“My dad owns a lot of property here on the main street, which you probably already know. More than just your store. I'm trying to decide what I should personally acquire, and what I should sell off.”
“Wait a second. You made it sound like you've been a drifter for the past seventeen years, but drifters don't burst in and buy prime real estate by the ocean.”
“I got into investing. I'm very good at it.”
“Right, so all that crap about you not living a life of luxury?”
“I've had access to a lot of money, I haven't used it. I didn't lie to you when I said I've spent a lot of time living in shitty motels.”
She gritted her teeth. “It may surprise you to hear this, but I don't actually care if you lied to me or not. I'm not invested in trusting you.”
He took a step further into the store, and she retreated behind the counter. He smelled good. He had gotten close enough for her to catch a little bit of that clean, masculine scent cutting through the heavy fragrance of the spicy candle that lingered in the air. There was rough-looking stubble on his jaw, and for some reason, she found herself wondering what it might feel like beneath her hand.
She could only figure she had imagined that because she had felt his hands on her before. So it seemed like maybe someday she might have hers on him.
She blinked. That was ridiculous. She wasn't making sense.
The door swung open and three older women walked into the shop, talking and laughing. Rebecca let out a long sigh of relief.
“Welcome to the Trading Post,” she said, “I'm Rebeccaâif you need anything just ask.”
“That's very nice, dear,” said one of the women, smiling brightly, before turning back to her friends and continuing to talk.
“You did not greet me like that when I walked into your store.”
“Yes, well, I don't hate them.”
He moved over to the counter, leaning over the surface, and suddenly, it no longer felt like a safe haven back there. No, instead, she felt trapped. He was so very...tall. And broad. He filled up the space so completely, not just with his frame, but with his presence.
“I figure you know a lot of the people who have shops on this street. You might be able to advise me on how I should move forward.”
“A fire sale on all West properties? Everything must go?”
“I could definitely offer that up, though not everybody is going to be able to get a loan. And I'm not entirely sure I want to own anything here in Copper Ridge.”
“It wouldn't be an issue for you at all if you had somebody managing the properties. Anyway, most of the people that are in their shops on Main Street have been in them for a few years. Everything kind of runs like a well-oiled machine, and none of the businesses are going anywhere.”
“And some of them are empty.”
She knew that he meant the small block of buildings on the very back end of the street, curving around to face the ocean and the wharf. “Yes, those have been empty for a long time.”
“I could sell those or, if I was interested in keeping investment properties, I could rent them out. What kinds of businesses aren't represented here yet?”
“Why, are you thinking of starting one?”
“Just curious.”
“My friend Lane runs the mercantile, and she has specialty foods.”
He nodded once. “I know. We own that building.”
“My friend Alison has a bakery, there's a secondhand store...”
“Alison owns the bakery, I believe, but the West family owns the thrift shop.”
“And you own empty buildings.”
He nodded. “Do you have any ideas about what they could be used for?”
“Something that you don't have to stay around to oversee?”
A smile curved the left side of his mouth, and she wondered if she'd ever seen him smile before. She didn't think she had. It was strange what it did to his face. Lightened everything up a little bit, like a cloud break in the middle of a storm.
“Okay, noted. You want to get rid of me.”
“Lane might really appreciate the opportunity to buy her building,” Rebecca said. Lane's business had been extremely successful since the tourism in town had started picking up, so Rebecca imagined her friend had the financial ability to buy the building if she wanted to.
“Then I'll have to have a talk with Lane. Maybe you could facilitate that?”
“Are you... Are you making busy work for me to do?”
He shrugged slightly. “Not necessarily.”
“You are. You're making busy work for me to do so that you can pretend that I am working off what I owe you, when we all know that as it is I'm barely going to be able to do it without you allowing me to charge you an exorbitant sum for every hour I'm in your presence.”
“You want the impossible, Rebecca,” he said, his voice suddenly rough. “You want to be able to run your store and work enough for me so you're going to somehow be able to pay back the thousands of dollars that I gave to you. You want to be able to do it without your physical limitations getting in the way. But, you want it to all be fair. You want to make sure that you're not taking any kind of charity, and I'm not being easy on you, when we both damn well know you need me to be easy on you.”
Stupidly, horrifically, she felt tears stinging her eyes. Because it all felt so impossible. And her pride felt so small, and silly. But she didn't cry. Crying was useless. It didn't fix anything. All it did was show people that you were weak. That you were hurt. She refused to do that.
She gritted her teeth, planting her hands on the counter. It brought her closer to him, made her very aware of his size, his strength and the heat coming off of his body. But she did her best to ignore it. “You're right,” she said, lowering her voice. “I do wish the impossible. I wish that your car had been the one to swerve. I wish
you
had hit the tree. I wish I was fine, and that I had never had occasion to know your name. I just wish...” She swallowed hard. “I wish I didn't care. If I can't fix it, I wish I just didn't care.”
She hadn't meant to say that. She didn't want him to know that she was hurt. Yelling at him was one thing, but revealing emotion was quite another.
“Just these,” one of the women said, coming up to the counter, looking at Gage out of the corner of her eyes. A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Very handsome friend you have,” she said, putting an array of ceramic birds on the countertop.
Rebecca forced a smile in return and began to scan the barcodes on the birds, getting them all tallied up in the register before wrapping them in plain paper. “Sure, when he's not getting in the way,” Rebecca responded finally, when she found a way to make her mouth work.
Her head was swimming, and her eyes stung. Her chest felt heavy, and her arm still burned where he had touched her. She wanted to go throw herself down onto her bed and weep for a solid hour. She wanted to yell at Gage some more. She wanted to let him sign the store over to her and pretend that it didn't matter to her that she had accepted his pity and his charity.
She wanted to be stubborn forever, if only to make him miserable, so that he couldn't feel like he'd won.
She wanted to feel normal.
She wanted a whole lot of things she wasn't sure were actually possible.
Fishing a canvas bag with her store logo on it from beneath the counter, she gently put the ceramic birds inside and handed them to the woman. “Thank you for coming in,” she said, surprised at how normal her voice sounded when her insides were a screaming legion.