Fury on Fire Page 14

  “Why should I, Hale?” She set her hands on her hips. “It had nothing to do with you.”

  He looked at her like he didn’t even know her. “When my sister lives next door to a parolee, I should know about it. Damn straight that’s my business.”

  “Hale!” Angry heat flushed over her face, she shot a quick glance at North.

  “It’s the truth.” Hale swung around to glare at North again, speaking of him, about him as though he were not even present. “This guy went to prison for murder, Faith.”

  “If you know who he is, then you know why,” she hissed. “You know the circumstances.” She wasn’t pretending North didn’t do the crime, but she wasn’t going to pretend either that he was just any criminal. He wasn’t a heartless killer. She knew that. Even as much as they bickered, as much as he drove her crazy, as much as she both longed for and regretted kissing him, she knew he was not without decency.

  “And you do,” North interjected quietly. “You know the circumstances.” He waited a beat before adding, “You’ve done your research on me, Faith. Well done.”

  That said, North turned and started away from both of them, his long legs eating up the distance separating him from his front door.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Hale called. “We’re talking here.”

  “I’m certain he did not appreciate the two of us arguing about him as though he wasn’t even standing here.” She punched his arm. “You’re so rude, Hale!”

  North turned slightly to call back at them. “I’m going inside my house. I served my time. I’m living my life . . . not hurting anyone. I don’t have to answer to anyone about the past.” It wasn’t in Faith’s imagination that he stared at her as he uttered this.

  A horrible hollowness filled her as she looked at him. He only stood across the yard from her, but he felt a million miles away.

  He waited a beat, letting both Faith and Hale absorb his words before turning around again and disappearing inside his house.

  As soon as the door slammed behind him, she whirled around on her brother. She slapped him on the arm. “Way to go! That was mortifying!”

  “Mortifying? What did you expect me to do?” He gestured toward North’s house. “You’re living next door to a killer! And you knew it! You. Knew!” He shook his head and looked at her like she had lost her mind.

  With a growl of frustration, she stalked inside her house, knowing he would follow. And that was fine. She wasn’t going to have this argument with him in the driveway.

  He was fast on her heels, slamming the door to her house after him. “You’re moving.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and whirled to face him. “No. I’m not.”

  “Faith,” he started in.

  “No. I’m a grown woman. I’m not in danger.”

  He raised an eyebrow as though that were debatable.

  She continued, “Now I love you, Hale, and I appreciate your concern, but I’m an adult. I bought this house and I’m not selling it. I put money down. Besides. I like it here. I’m not moving. Weren’t you going home?”

  “This conversation isn’t over.”

  “I’m not changing my mind.” She opened the front door for him and waved him out. “See you Sunday. I’m making chicken-fried steak.”

  “Don’t think you can soften me up by making my favorite dinner.”

  “I was planning to make it before you turned into a lunatic on my driveway.”

  “I’m the lunatic?” He flattened a hand to his chest, his gray eyes wide with incredulity. “You’re the one living next door to a convicted murderer.”

  “Perfectly sane,” she replied easily.

  Hale rested his hand against the edge of the door before passing through it. “This isn’t because he’s easy on the eyes, is it? I always thought you were smart when it came to men.”

  Because her love life was nonexistent? He thought she was smart because of that?

  She pressed her palm against brother’s chest and pushed him out. “Good-bye, Hale. Thanks for stopping by and thanks for dinner.” She meant it . . . even if she was annoyed with him right now.

  He turned and walked down her driveway, his gaze turning to stare in the direction of North’s yard.

  North hadn’t returned yet to finish his mowing. They had chased him off. She felt bad about that. About all of it.

  She imagined he would return once her brother’s vehicle left the driveway.

  As she heard her brother’s Bronco start up and drive away, she reached for her phone. She pulled up North and fired him a text.

  I’m sorry about that.

  She stood there, staring at the phone, waiting for him to reply, but somehow knowing deep in her gut.

  He wouldn’t.

  SEVENTEEN

  The next few days Dad and Hale used every opportunity to let her know just how unreasonable she was being. Even Tucker FaceTimed her from some undisclosed location halfway around the world. Haggard and bearded, his gray eyes had stared accusingly at her through her computer screen and wanted to know if she had lost her mind. Hale had apprised him of the situation and, of course, he had to weigh in on Faith’s poor judgment.

  Throughout it all, she couldn’t help marveling at what any of them would think if they knew the extent of her involvement with North Callaghan. She shuddered to think of their reaction if they were privy to their text messages . . . if they had witnessed her the other day propped on the hood of her car with North between her thighs. The memory sent her face flaming . . . along with other parts of her body.

  Dad stopped by the day after Hale’s visit, stone-faced as he explained that he wanted her to move back home with him. She’d been firm but kind with him as she explained that that was not an option.

  Thankfully, North Callaghan wasn’t home during that visit. She hadn’t missed her father’s razor-sharp gaze eyeing North’s house. Had he been home, she knew Dad would have marched over there to throw his weight around. He would have grilled North and then probably ended the conversation by warning him off from even looking cross-eyed at her.

  So North not home then had been a blessing.

  In fact, North hadn’t been home a lot. At least not when she might have bumped into him. His bike or truck was gone when she woke up every morning, and he was never around when she got home in the evenings. He never did reply to her apology text. It seemed like he had stopped caring about her. He certainly didn’t miss her anymore. Or if he did he had a funny way of showing it.

  She was brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed when her phone rang from where it was charging on her nightstand. A quick glance revealed that it was Hale again. She sighed through the bubbly froth of her toothpaste.

  Turning away, she let it go to voicemail. It was late. He’d just think she was already asleep. Or that she was ignoring him. Either way was fine.

  She finished brushing her teeth, rinsed her mouth and headed downstairs to shut off all the lights. It was Friday night. She was going to bed by 10 p.m. This was her life. Brendan had texted her sporadically throughout the week. Nice texts telling her he was looking forward to their date next week. Nice. There was that word again.

  North Callaghan was probably just getting started on his night. She imagined him with Serena or someone else and an uncomfortable knot formed in her throat.

  She poured herself a glass of water. Standing in her darkened kitchen, she couldn’t help drifting over to the large window that faced the driveway.

  So much for waiting for her to step across that proverbial line in the sand.

  She guessed he was finished with her. Understandable, she supposed.

  She knew all the dirt on him and he probably felt weird about it now. Through all their interactions, she had known he was a convicted murderer.

  And she was the sheriff’s sister.

  As an ex-con, he’d probably decided he didn’t need that aggravation. That certainly made sense. She should forget about him. She should. But she wanted to tal
k to him. Although when she imagined what she would say nothing came to her mind. She couldn’t tell him his past didn’t matter. That would be a lie. It would always matter. It mattered to him, clearly, but it was as he said. He didn’t owe her any explanation or defense. If he wanted an explanation as to why she had investigated his background, then she could offer none other than that she was nosy. A busybody just like her brother described half of the women of Sweet Hill.

  She peered out between her blinds.

  It shouldn’t bother her so much that he was not at home. She shouldn’t be peeking out the window like a stalker. She winced. That ship had already sailed. By definition, that’s what she was. Ugh. This was what she had become, how far she had descended.

  She should not be wondering so much about where he was . . . what he was doing. Who he was doing.

  Grimacing, she let the blinds snap back into place and forced herself away from the window and the hope of seeing him.

  It was for the best.

  She was the sheriff’s sister. For days this reeled through his mind. She was also the daughter of the man who’d come out to the farmhouse and cuffed him and Knox in front of their aunt and uncle. In front of Katie. Already traumatized Katie. Already broken. Sure, he was just doing his job, but Faith’s father was a part of that past North worked so hard to forget.

  Now Faith was a part of it, too.

  The past was like that. Never really gone. Always there to sneak up on you and tap you on the shoulder just when you thought you were getting over it.

  North put in a lot of overtime at the shop for the rest of the week. His boss was only too happy to pay him. They had more work than they could handle as it was these days. He might have gotten some funny looks showing up Saturday, but the few guys working didn’t say anything.

  Home was the last place he wanted to be, which actually infuriated him. Getting his own place had been a huge thing for him upon getting paroled. It had been his number one goal. A place where he could be by himself and have the privacy he never had at the Rock. Something that belonged to him. A refuge for him alone. Now that was wrecked because he was avoiding the woman living next door to him.

  North usually protected his weekends. It was his time. He worked in his shop, fished, took runs out along forgotten paths where birds sang in the trees, indifferent to his intrusion. Sometimes he just drove out to the desert mountains to stare at the expanse of wilderness. Because he could. Because he wasn’t locked up in a cage anymore.

  The nights were his, too. Those he spent in typical fashion. Exorcising his ghosts by pumping into some willing female body. Only lately, getting laid did not seem nearly so important. At least random hookups weren’t. His sex drive hadn’t diminished. No, he hadn’t lost interest in sex. He’d lost interest in indiscriminate sex.

  Now, however, he had to ignore her. She was an itch he would have to leave unscratched. Knowing who she was had changed everything. Fucking her was out of the question. She was trouble. For two years he had managed to avoid trouble. He wouldn’t start looking for it now.

  Hale Walters’s hard-eyed face flashed across his mind. This guy went to prison for murder, Faith.

  The words were true—and accompanied with such a contemptuous look. It still stung . . . the way her brother had looked at him. The look, however, said it all. He thought North was a worthless piece of shit and he didn’t want such shit anywhere near his sister.

  Her father had actually arrested him. He didn’t have a hell of a lot of scruples left, but he figured that made Faith Walters a bad choice as a potential fuck buddy.

  North pulled over at the grocery store. With all the overtime this week, he didn’t have anything in his refrigerator to eat and he was sick of takeout.

  He grabbed a cart at the front of the store and headed for the produce section, which took him through the deli and bakery. They already had some deli meat sliced in a cooler. He snagged a couple packages of ham and turkey, nodding politely to the girl staring at him from behind the counter. He’d noticed her before. They’d chatted once or twice. Open interest gleamed in her eyes. Clearly she was willing to strike up a conversation with him again. Too bad he wasn’t in the mood.

  Scowling, he wondered when he would be in the mood again. He should go over there and flirt with her, find out when she got off work and invite her back to his place. He should do that. It had been a while for him. Too long.

  He pushed his cart through the bakery section and tossed some bread into his basket.

  By the time he got to the produce, he was almost done. Lettuce and tomatoes went in the cart. It wasn’t fancy, but he could make a decent sandwich. He picked out a watermelon and threw some oranges in the cart. He’d missed fresh fruit in prison. All the fruit they had was usually canned. He hadn’t had fresh watermelon while he was at the Rock. Twelve years without fresh watermelon. Kind of like sex. When he’d gotten out he’d been starving. Fresh fruit and pussy.

  Except the desperate hunger he had felt when he was first paroled was worse now. Because he felt it for one woman. A woman he couldn’t have.

  Deciding to grab a gallon of milk, he headed for the dairy department.

  That’s where he saw her.

  Looking very un-Faith-like in a pair of black yoga pants and T-shirt, she was standing in front of the milk section, the door to the refrigeration unit open as she studied the selection. His eyes dropped to her flip-flops. Pink toenails.

  With the exception of when he saw her in her robe, she was always polished and put together in her work attire.

  Un-Faith-like or not, he was still hit hard with a wave of lust.

  Hell, he had already accepted how much he liked the look of her, but this Faith looked young and fresh and far too clean for the likes of him. He wanted this. He wanted to dive into her. He wanted to take her and claim her and mark her as his.

  His flight instinct kicked in and he whirled his cart around.

  She must have caught the movement. He heard her voice behind him. “North! North, wait up.”

  Her cart rolled behind him, wheels whirring over the linoleum. Christ. She was chasing him.

  He kept going, fighting the totally irrational urge to run. He turned down the toilet-paper-and-tissue aisle.

  “North!” Her hand grabbed his arm, fingers pressing into his skin, and that was a mistake. Touching him was a mistake. It was hard enough forgetting her taste or the sensation of her soft skin, too soft for the rough scrape of his palms. Hard enough not to remember the wet silk of her sex against his fingers.

  He didn’t need her touching him.

  “What?” he growled.

  “I texted you.”

  “Yeah.” He’d seen it. He hadn’t replied to the apology. What should he have said? “I know.”

  She pulled back, dropping her hand, looking hurt and so young right then. She blinked rapidly and looked down, as though fighting tears. Finding her composure, she looked back up at him.

  He sighed and glanced left and right, dragging a hand through his hair. He swallowed back an expletive. The store wasn’t crowded. No one seemed to notice or care about them standing in the aisle. Christ. He couldn’t do this. Not here.

  Even in public, it was a battle not to touch her, not to pick right up where they left off the other night . . . even knowing who she was now made no difference to his dick.

  “What do you want from me?” He tossed a hand up in the air.

  She blinked as though the question caught her off guard. “We’re neighbors. I want everything to be all right between us. I want us to be—”

  “Don’t say friends,” he snarled, everything in him seizing tight, wanting to lash out at her—pull her to him so he could let her know just what he thought of that idea . . . and what it was he really wanted to be to her. “That’s not happening. You and I were never going to be friends.”

  She stared at him, looking hurt all over again. He took a step toward her. She backed up, stopping when she bumped into a wall of p
aper towels. “The only thing that was ever going to happen between us was sex.” He propped one hand against a shelf right over her shoulder.

  Fire lit her eyes. “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah. And that’s not happening now.”

  “Oh? Because you decided?” Her face screwed tight with irritation. “Hate to tell you, but that wasn’t ever going to happen because I wasn’t going to let—”

  He shut her up by kissing her. Hard. Her mouth parted on a cry and he slid his tongue inside, tasting her, groaning when her tongue thrust out to meet his. He pressed his body into hers, sinking into her shape. He grabbed her hip, pulling her to him, angling her so that he could settle his cock against the soft juncture between her thighs. Her hands went for his shoulders, her fingers curling into him.

  He angled his head, deepening the kiss, drinking long and hard from her like a starving man. They pushed against one another, desperate, yearning. He gripped the shelf as though he could use it to leverage them closer.

  It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until they were melding into one. Until he was in her so deep—

  Paper towels started to fall around them. He broke away, coming up for air.

  She stared at him with wide, glazed eyes, her mouth inching back toward him, after more.

  He reached out to stroke her pretty bottom lip, swollen and damp. “You still lying to yourself now?”

  She blinked, the glazed look leaving her eyes like clearing smoke. Her hands worked, shoving between them, red splotches breaking out all over her face as she launched him away from her like he was some kind of poison and not the man she had been kissing for all she was worth moments ago.

  Her eyes shone wetly, brimming with angry emotion as she sputtered, “Don’t touch—”

  “I won’t. Never again.” His voice was hard with finality as he looked at her, standing before him, her face flushed, her lips still mocking him, begging for him to pick right back up where they’d just ended. “Forget I live next door. Forget you even have a neighbor.”

  He stood back and looked at her solemnly, letting his words sink in. For her. For him. She appeared a little shell-shocked as she held his gaze. But still mad. Still furious. Angry fire shot from her eyes. Good. Better this than her looking at him like he was something worthwhile. In the back of his mind, he had started to feel almost normal; he’d started to think he could have a normal life. It was a necessary wake-up call. There was no normal for him.