Upper Hand (Cedar Tree Book 5) (35 page)

“You’re thinking so hard, I can hear the wheels turning.” Beth twists her head back and smiles at me and I don’t hesitate. I take her smiling mouth and pour everything I’m feeling into it.

“Clint...” she whispers when I pull up a little. Her hand comes up and strokes the scruff on my jaw. “Love you, honey,” she says, her eyes bright.

“This here, right now, is everything to me,” I tell her. “You cozy in my arms, telling me you love me. Our little guy happy and playing in the tree house I’ve always wanted to build for my children. We’ve been through some shit, but here we are on the other side, with all
this
in our life. Not a religious man, Bean, but I feel blessed. Only thing that would make this better would be you hauling the rest of your shit over here and making this your permanent home.”

Her eyes mist over and she covers her mouth with her hand. “Big Guy...”

“Baby. We’re both forty-six and have already spent too much time fucking around. I want you in my life. And more so, I want that in a way that is permanent.”

Lifting up she brushes her lips against my mouth. “Okay, honey. I’ll haul my shit over here and set up shop permanent-like.” The little smile on her face tells me she’s teasing before she gets serious. “I’m just not ready to sell my little house yet. Maybe we can rent it out?”

Before I have a chance to answer, Max lets himself be known, effectively drawing all attention. “Gammy!”

“Yes, little man?” Beth slips from my arms and walks over to the ladder, looking up at Max’s big smile.

“Me hungwy.”

I laugh, seeing as not much more than an hour ago, Max was wolfing down a stack of pancakes that could rival mine. The kid can eat.

“How about we go inside, clean up a bit and I’ll make some grilled cheese for lunch?” Beth suggests, which apparently meets with Max’s approval, his loud “Yay!” and dive off the platform into Beth’s arms evidence.

-

-

“T
hat’s enough.”

Clint slips his arms around my body from behind and I feel his lips on my neck. He put Max down for a nap, who seems to have tuckered himself out after lunch, and I’m just cleaning away the last of the dishes. I crave the physical closeness and loved the way it made me feel earlier. His mood, affection, and words gave me hope, but once inside he seemed distracted. We haven’t done much more than kiss and cuddle the last few weeks, and I’m missing the sex. The few times I’ve tried to initiate taking things a little further, I’ve been shut down. Not harshly, but each time he tucks me to him and tells me we’re not in a rush, a little of my newfound self-esteem crumbles. Initially we both were a bit bruised and battered, and so it made sense, but now all that remains is scars; his on his shoulder and mine on my face and chest. Maybe it’s the scars.

I put my arms over his and lean my head back against his shoulder, hoping he’ll take what his body so obviously wants judging by the hard ridge against my ass.

“Nothing better than a soft, warm woman in the kitchen, but even better when she’s willingly spread out in bed,” his voice rumbles and the words are like a trigger. Three weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought twice about brushing those words off as Clint being Clint—saying stuff that doesn’t sound half as good hearing as he intends it to be. But already insecure and confused with the mixed messages, it works like a red flag on a bull. And the bull in this case is me.

“Seriously, Clint? You finally make a move without me initiating it and you pushing me away, and then you go and ruin it with that antiquated sexist garbage?” I push out from between him and the counter, round the island and turn to face him at a safe distance. “For weeks you’ve avoided touching me in any real way, and each time I tried I got shut down. I mean, I get that Max puts a bit of a damper on things, and you were injured to boot, but I could’ve done all the work. We’ve had opportunities.”

The bewildered look on his face should’ve been a hint he doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about, which is why when he walks over and cups my face in his hands, his next words strike hard.

“Babe—it’s the scar.”

And there it is.

Without hesitation I pull away and make a beeline for the bathroom down the hall, ignoring him calling my name and fighting tears. With both the door to the bedroom and the one to the hallway locked, I sink down with my back against the bathtub, grabbing a towel on my way down to muffle the sobs that are breaking free. Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was way more harsh than I’d expected. Surprised, even though he just confirmed what I’d been fearing. Shocked, because the thought had not crossed my mind initially, wouldn’t have, the way I felt secure with him before I was taken—but now, after a good number of brush offs, it doesn’t seem so far-fetched. The fucking scar.

“Beth, open the door,” I hear him from the bedroom. “Bean—talk to me.”

For a few minutes, I ignore the soft knocks and pleas before I hear his footsteps disappear down the hall. My face is pressed to my knees, and the tears are relentless in coming, when I hear him coming back just moments later. Before I can clue in to what I’m listening to, the door to the bedroom is lifted clear off the hinges.

“Baby...” Clint mumbles, as he steps in the bathroom and slides down beside me, pulling me onto his lap and folding his arms tightly around me. “I’m thinking I’m missing something. Or maybe it’s that my words are not making clear what’s in my mind. In my heart.” One of his hands comes to lift my head from where I’m still keeping it hidden against my knees. “Talk to me.”

His voice is so gentle, I can’t stop my eyes from searching out his and find them full of the tenderness, also evident in his words. So I tell him what’s in my mind.

“The scars. They turn you off.”

This time the confusion on his face registers clearly, as does the darkness replacing it a moment later.

“What?” he whispers, but it’s with barely contained anger.

“My face—my chest. I know they’re not pretty, but I never thought—“

His hands grab my shoulders and give me a shake, cutting me off mid-sentence. “Shut up,” he growls just before his mouth slams on mine, his tongue penetrating and taking charge. My mind freezes but my body seems to have no problem responding. But when he pulls away much too soon, his hands still on my shoulders, his anger hasn’t disappeared.

“You’d honestly think those would make any fucking difference in how I feel about you? Jesus, Beth, is that how little you think of me?”

I’m stunned. Foolish me, I try to explain. “But three weeks, Clint. You’ve pushed me away for three weeks. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.” I know how much of a fool I am when he slides me off his lap, and with his hands behind him on the edge of the bathtub, pushes himself to stand over me.

“What about this? Every time I see the scars that dirtbag put on you, I can barely reel in my control. I almost killed a man, Beth, and I was so out of it with rage, I didn’t even know I was doing it. Each time I see what he did to you, what I almost lost, I can barely keep myself from plowing my fist through the wall. I’m all about control, you’ve gotta know that. The chance I’d lose it while fucking you is one I can’t take.” With that he’s out of the bathroom and I watch his back disappear.

Shit
. The time it takes me to let his words sink in, and get my act together, is enough for him to have snagged his coat and keys and head out. I get to the window just as I see his truck peel out of the driveway.

-

-

C
ockeyed.

That shit back there is bent. My heart is pounding like a fucking jackhammer, and I’m barely hanging onto my cool. Had to get out of there; I was
this
close to picking her up off the floor and fucking some sense into her. But in my current state I could’ve hurt her. I roll down the window and let the cold air blow in my face as I ease my foot off the accelerator, when I realize I’m barreling full throttle down County Road G. Not smart.

With the freezing wind blowing most of the heat out of my head and reason slowly starting to seep back in, I think about leaving Beth sitting on the bathroom floor, a look of disbelief on her face. Fucked up. Again. The day started with a beautiful promise, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to let it end the same way. Jed’s out of the hospital and recuperating in Gus and Emma’s guesthouse, and with Emma around there’s no way he isn’t looked after, and well. Max is back home with us, and Beth is ready to make her stay with me permanent. Everything seems to be settling down. I’ll be damned if I’m the one screwing the pooch this time.

A quick look to make sure no traffic’s coming and a sharp U-turn later, I’m heading right back where I came from. Haven’t been gone for more than ten minutes, when I pull in the drive and see an unfamiliar car sitting in my spot. I pull in next to it and walk to the door, keeping my eye on the older couple standing on the step, and Beth in the doorway with a worried look on her face. The moment she spots me I see guilt marring her features, guilt that has no place there. I walk up behind the couple, who both turn around at my approach.

“Clint, honey—“ Beth starts, her eyes already red from the crying earlier filling with tears again, so I cut her off, not wanting to go into that in front of an audience.

“Can I help you?” I try to sound friendly but the question still comes out as a growl. The woman grabs onto the man’s arm, and he immediately tucks her against him. Already I like him and I don’t know who the fuck he is. Doesn’t matter though; whomever they are, they’re in the way of cleaning up the mess I left behind. Something I’d prefer to be doing over standing on my step, figuring out what these people are doing here.

“Tammy’s our daughter. This is Janet and I’m Des Milton. We’re here to see if you know where she is. And my wife wants to see Max.”

Jesus. Their son is in jail and their daughter swinging in the wind after abandoning her child. No wonder they look worn. Seeing indecision on Beth’s face, I decide to take hold of the situation.

“I’m Clint and to answer your question: No, we have no idea where your girl is, and as for Max, he’s just gone down for a nap. We’ve not heard from you or seen you all the weeks he’s been with us, so forgive us if we don’t invite you in right now and wake him up.”

I face off with a very angry Des, who’s having a hard time holding on to his control, but he does.

“We just got back from a trip to New Zealand early, suspecting something was going on back home when our phone calls weren’t answered by either one of our children or Dylan. Yesterday we finally land in Durango, try calling immediately with no result, drive over to Tammy’s place to see it empty and headed straight for the police station after, where we find out our dumbass son is in jail in Cortez. Drove down there this morning, got in to see him and all he’d tell us was that he has no clue where that “
bitch
” is. Sheriff didn’t take to kindly to me trying to smack some sense into that kid for talking about his sister that way and just being the dumbass that he is that got him where he’s at.” His wife puts a hand on his stomach when he throws his eyes to the sky, probably hoping for some divine intervention. I can’t say I blame him. The move seems to settle him some, because he grabs her hand and pulls it against his chest where he holds on to it, turning his eyes back to me. “I got enough to know my daughter looks to have taken the easy road, again. Spoiled her too much. As a result she avoids all things that require work and expects to have everything handed to her. Our mistake. Did not anticipate having one child turn to crime and another to walk out on her child, but there it is. Max is the one thing we’ve had any part in that is pure. Right now, my wife needs to see him, so she can hold on to it.”

Beth is affected and in a profound way. The tears that brimmed at my approach are tracking down her cheeks, and I have to admit, I fucking feel for them too.

“Right. Janet, I’m sure Beth won’t mind you peeking in on Max, and I’ll set something up with your husband here for a better visit tomorrow.” The grateful smile Beth sends me is enough to let me know that was the right move. I watch her put her arm around Janet and lead her inside. Turning to Des, I see he’s only maybe mid-fifties, but the stress of the past days makes him look older. “Des, no offense but your visit falls right in the middle of something that needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later. In the meantime, let me call the motel down the road, they will take good care of you. I’ll also get some friends of mine to look harder into finding Tammy. Don’t know what they’ll find, if anything, or how long it’s gonna take, but tomorrow I’ll sit down with you and fill you in on everything that’s happened, so far. I need you to brace yourself. So take tonight to kick back with the knowledge your grandson is in good hands and a stone’s throw away. Take in a good home cooked meal on me at Arlene’s Diner, just west of here off Main Street. In the meantime, I’ll make sure things are sorted here, and we’ll see you back here for lunch tomorrow?”