Timber Creek (Sierra Falls #2)

Timber Creek (Sierra Falls #2) Page 27

He nodded, thinking, then asked, “That all?”

“You are maddening. No, that’s not—”

“Because if it’s my turn, I wanted to tell you my news. I got Fairview to back out of their phase two plans.”

“You…what?” She felt herself gape. Surely she didn’t just hear what she thought she heard.

“There’s no stopping the resort,” Eddie quickly amended, “but Fairview has agreed to scale back.”

She searched his words for some hidden trick. “What does scale back mean?”

“We’re keeping the building to just one story after all.” He smiled, looking proud of himself. “I told you I’m not a bad guy.”

“You said there’s no stopping the resort.” She still suspected he was, in fact, a bad guy. “I still want to stop the resort, Eddie.”

“Come on, Laura, you know there’s no stopping a company like Fairview.”

“In fact”—she ignored him and tapped a finger on her chin—“I think I’d like to kill the resort.”

“Hey, I just put my ass on the line to scale back plans for a whole damned international hotel. Which, by the way, will mean less money for Jessup Brothers.”

Baby steps, she told herself. Of course he wouldn’t do something that would hurt his own business.

He saw her waffling and held out his hand. “Peace? Please? Let’s shake on it.”

He wouldn’t stop the construction completely, but she still could. She’d think of a way. In the meantime, she let her hand slip into his, and there it was again, that warm rush at feeling his large, worn hand envelop hers.

“I guess.” She let him shake her hand. Scaling back was something, she told herself. Scaling back was good.

He squeezed, doing a little rub with his thumb, and all sorts of alarms sounded in her head. When she pulled her hand free, he laughed again. “The least I could get is a smile. Maybe a Thank you, Eddie, for being so awesome.”

“Forgive me if I don’t trust you,” she said. “Why’d you do it, anyway?”

“I did it for you, dummy.”

She stiffened. “Why?”

“Because I respect you, Laura.”

Respect. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted? She’d lost it at work, had been scrambling to reclaim it at home. Why did it feel so strange getting it now, so freely, from Eddie?

How was this guy she’d known all her life—who’d bugged her all her life—how was he the one to be giving her what she’d so longed for? And not just that, but he was sacrificing some of his own money in the process.

Suddenly, it wasn’t Edwin Jessup from Mrs. Patmore’s kindergarten class standing there. It was a man she saw with fresh eyes. A currently shirtless man.

And he looked good.

She fought it.

She edged sideways—had Eddie always been this big?—but as she did, she caught a glimpse of a large duffel on the passenger’s side.

She knew it. Same old Eddie. “Doing the drive of shame?”

“I don’t get your meaning.” He pulled on his T-shirt—finally—and as he did, she heard him murmur, “Sure is chilly with you.”

She hated the stab of jealousy she felt…at him frolicking around all over town, at her always being the chilly one. It riled her even more and she stabbed a finger at the junk littering the inside of his pickup. “Just getting in from an all-nighter? Real classy, Eddie.”

“All-nighter?”

Razor, dirty shirts and socks, an extra pair of shoes…he’d clearly been based out of his truck for a couple of days. Was it with someone she knew? Or maybe he’d crashed with whatever hottie it was in Reno he was always dashing off to see. The mother of his child. Her stomach lurched for reasons she didn’t want to contemplate.

“Actually”—she put up her hand—“I don’t want to hear it.”

“What are you talking about?” He glanced into the cab at his stuff, and as her meaning registered, his face fell. He gave her a flat look to match his flat tone. “Yeah, Laura, I was out all night with my many mistresses, having hot times in my pickup.” He shouldered by her, slamming the door behind him. “Why do you insist on seeing the worst in me?”

What right did he have to look so hurt? He was the one sleeping around, not her.

“I was just asking,” she muttered.

He stopped, turning slowly to look at her. “I can’t figure you out.” The way he shook his head said he was about to give up trying.

But she didn’t want him to give up, and that was what she couldn’t figure out. She fell into step behind him as he went to the back of his truck. “That’s because I’m complicated. Unlike you.”

“Oh, I’m easy as pie.”

“Easy. I’ll just bet you are.” She scowled at his head—his hair stuck up every which way, like a man who hadn’t showered that morning.

Why on earth was she feeling her heart crack? Why did it seem like everyone had their secret lives except for her?

He caught her staring and gave a beleaguered sigh. “Hat head, Laura. Because I went to bed with wet hair. Not because I was out all night partying.”

He reached into the truck bed for his hat, a black Giants cap he settled onto his thick, brown waves. And did he have to be so damned cute?

He kicked back, half sitting, half leaning against the bumper, arms crossed at his chest. “But enough about me. How about you? How’s your fiancé? Or did you throw him over for that TV douchebag? Gotta hand it to the guy—all that jewelry and hair gel, he sure is pretty.”

“At least he works an honest job.”

Eddie popped to standing. “Don’t talk to me about a good day’s work. Nobody works harder than me and Jack.”

She felt a stab of regret at her hurtful words, but there he was, looming over her again. Her defenses kicked in and she sidled out of his way. “It’s Jack and me. ‘Me first is the worst.’”

He stepped closer, angling his body to face hers. “You think I’m some sort of redneck idiot, don’t you?”

She forced herself not to retreat. “No.”

He took another step closer. “So, is that the kind of guy you like? Pretty?”

This time she stepped out of the way, a move that put her up against the side of his truck. “Of course not.”

“Then what do you like?” His voice was a mesmerizingly low rasp. He placed the gentlest finger beneath her chin, tilting her face up to his.

She should’ve said, Not you.

She could’ve said an urban professional.

A well-groomed man, someone who wore Burberry for work and James Perse for weekends.

She should’ve said, Anyone but you.

But for some reason, her tongue stuck in her mouth as her eyes locked with his. They were a vibrant blue, glittering with desire that’d become unchecked. He looked like he was going to kiss her.

And it was looking like she might let him.

Twenty-one

Eddie couldn’t help it. His years of wanting her, his frustration and anger. The way she lashed out, intentionally misunderstanding him. He couldn’t hold back anymore. She’d always gotten to him, even when they were kids. Except back then, when she riled him, all he’d had to do was tug her ponytail. Now he wanted more.

To touch her, just once. He needed to bring this thing—whatever it was—to a head.

He placed the gentlest finger beneath her chin. “You didn’t answer me.”

He’d expected her to flinch, but instead her breath caught. Those gorgeous, sparkling eyes were wide, staring at him. The barest suggestion of tears appeared, shimmering, making them even bluer.

He pulled his hand away, fisting it at his side. Was she scared of him? She ate men like him for breakfast. What was going on in her head?

She could’ve taken up her concerns with Jack, but instead she’d dogged him. She could’ve been colder, but the anger she hurled at him was fueled by a deep-seated passion. Passion that ran hot.

“Who are you really, Laura Bailey? What are you doing here?”

“I came to stop you.”

He sighed, so tired of this backing and forthing. “No, I mean here. In Sierra Falls. Why are you alone? What happened?” The need to touch her again was unbearable, but he fought it. He’d never touch what wasn’t his to take.

“Nothing happened.”

“Why are you alone?”

“I just am,” she said, looking ready to snap.

“But you’re so goddamned beautiful. I know you know it. I see you running along the side of the road in those little short shorts. What are you running from?”

“Nothing.”

Why wouldn’t she trust him? “You’re running from me.”

A strand of hair blew into her lashes. The whites of her eyes had turned pink in the corners, like she was holding back some fierce and secret emotion. He ached to smooth the hair from her face. To cup her cheeks and kiss her once on each eye, to make them shine bright again.

“I don’t run from anyone.” Her voice wavered, like she didn’t really believe it.

“Then why no boyfriend?” She was so near, he could feel the heat of her, smell her feminine scent, like flowery soap. He was dying to close the gap, but he’d never touch a woman against her will.

“I don’t need a boyfriend. I’m not interested in you or anyone.” She looked away, and he watched as she bristled, her gaze sharpening, focusing inside the truck bed.

He followed her eyes to a gray hoodie. One of the kids had left it behind in the van.

She added primly, “I’m especially not interested in a man who won’t take responsibility for his own kid. Or is it kids?”

He was stunned speechless. He’d come to expect her crazy accusations, but this was ridiculous.

“Well?” she demanded. “Do you have a kid?”

“I have a lot of kids.” He did an exaggerated silent count on his fingers. “Seven. I spent the weekend with my seven kids.”