Broken Road (8 page)

   “What do you want?” Winthrop growled at the person in the door with out turning around. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this, that’s why he was in his brother’s office, yet someone had found him. “Get out!”

   Devil flinched at the fury in his voice.

   He was just like her father.

   She started to take a step back.

  
He is not like your father. Help him understand.

    Devil froze, foot in midair. Was he different? Could she help him? Devil looked him over and saw that grief was engraved in his face, in his eyes. It was not anger like her father’s had been. Her face softened with sympathy. Yes, he was different. Her father couldn’t hold a candle to this man. He was so strong and proud all of the time, but even strong people had their weak moments.

   She inched her way forward and put a hand on his shoulder.

    “It’s only me, come up to bed. You shouldn’t drink this much. You’ll regret it later,” Devil said softly reaching for the bottle in his hand.

   He took the whiskey out of her reach and took another drink then swung the chair around to face her.

   “Go back to bed, kid. This ain’t got nothing to do with you,” he growled, glaring at her out of narrowed eyes.

   Devil felt her mouth turn into a thin line of compressed frustration.

   “You will stop drinking. Wallowing in self pity is stupid.”

   He laughed without humor. “Call it whatever you like, but you understand nothing.” He took another drink and felt its warmth bloom in his gut.

   Devil snatched to bottle out of his hand and placed it behind her back. She ignored the pain in her hand.

   Winthrop rose out of his chair and glared at the girl. “Give it back.”

   “Never. I know what drink does to a man,” she said quietly.

   “You know nothing,” he sneered reached behind her for the bottle.

    She moved the bottle again.

   Okay he would play her game. He grabbed the wrist of the empty hand and leaned in close to her.

   “Give me back the bottle, darlin’,” he drawled.

   Devil scrunched up her nose. He smelled of more liquor then what had been in the bottle. “Not a chance. You’re already drunk as a skunk. Tell me what made you drink. I know for a fact that you never touch a drop of alcohol if you can help it.” Giving in to what her body wanted to do she leaned her forehead against his and stared into his eyes. “Trust me.”

   She was asking him something no one ever had and he didn’t know if he could. It took him a long moment, but as she stared up at him with those sparkling blue eyes he felt his resolve slip away.

   “Damn me, but you could tempt saint,” he whispered roughly. He tightened the grab he had on her wrist and was about to lean in a kiss her, but she cried out in pain.

   His eyes flew back to her’s. “What’s wrong?”

   “Wrist,” she choked out, tears pooling in her eyes.

   Wrist? Had she said wrist? Then he remembered. He looked to were he had a death grip on her burned, cut hand he let go immediately and backed up hands his hand in front of him.

   “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t…I couldn’t…I’m sorry I didn’t mean to!” he was frightened that he had really hurt her. Had he opened her stitches again?

   Devil sniffed and wiped her eyes and sat the bottle on the desk.

   “I think maybe you should go to bed,” she suggested quietly.

   His look of hurt turned dark. “I think it is you who should leave.”

   Fine if he wanted it that way she would play too. She picked up the bottle, saluted him and took a deep drank that burned the hell out of her throat, but she smiled as she did.

   Suddenly she found the bottle smashing against the door.

   “Don’t ever do that again,” Winthrop rasped.

   “If I’m the one who drove you to drink I think its only fair to tell you that you do the same to me. No need to feel bad about it. I can hold my liquor like no other,” she said with a snort, “the only gift my father ever gave to me. It took him five bottles before he started to feel even the littlest bit fuzzy.”

   Winthrop fell silent as her words sank in.

   “Was your father a drunk?” he asked hesitantly. He had an itching feeling it was more then that. So help him if the man was still alive-!

   “Yup, guess you get a cookie, but not only a bad drunk, but the worst women beater the state of Colorado had ever seen. He made national headlines about it six or so years ago. Good thing the son of a bitch is dead.” Devil laughed softly. “He got what he deserved alright.”

   He crushed her in his arms and tightened his hold till she squeaked. “I won’t let anyone hurt you or Lilla, I promise. Ever,” he rasped.

   Devil sighed and relaxed in his arms. “I think it’s best if you go to bed now. We can talk tomorrow.” She started to pull away but he gripped her tighter.

   “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” Winthrop whispered against her hair.

   Devil closed her eyes for a moment. Dear heaven how could she resist this man? She had a feeling that it was a very bad idea, but she was never good at being good.

Getting them both up stairs was going to be a problem. Mr. Canter was awake yet couldn’t quite mange to walk in a straight line and Devil was trying to balance them both which was proving harder then it looked. They bumped along on the stairs and Devil tried not to smile at the things the silly man was saying.

   He was more of a teddy bear then a grizzly bear at the moment and she was loving every moment of it. How often did you get to see a powerful man like that? Never. She was so going to use this against him when he was more of his normal self again.

   Devil grinned. “What fun,” she murmured.

   “Fun?” Winthrop grinned down at her. “We could have some real fun.”

  
Oh boy.
Devil wanted to fan herself.

   “Not until you sleep, shave, and shower,” Devil said with all the mock seriousness she could muster.

   Winthrop lost his smile and nodded solemnly. “I heard the ladies like a clean man,” he said quietly as if it were some great secret.

   Devil puzzled that over and asked about the word that had her confused. “Heard?”

   He nodded again. “Yeah. Not like I would know though. Being a ‘woman hater’ and all and no woman ever being on the ranch.” He eyed her from the corner of one silvery blue eye with far more clarity then he should have. “Do you like a clean man, little lady?”

   Devil swallowed thickly and shifted under the new embarrassment she felt at his words. Just as quick as the embarrassment came it turned into frustration she couldn’t understand. So she did the only thing she could.

   She shook her head. “I wouldn’t know myself; I didn’t spend much time around men. Not that I wanted too, but I imagine that we both would rather be clean.”

   The truth had seemed to be a rather good answer and he only smiled faintly as they made it to his room.

   They stumbled as his foot caught the edge of a rug on the floor and they tumbled onto the bed in an ungraceful tangle of arms and legs.

   “Ugh,” Devil grunted as Mr. Canter landed on top of her. The man was a lot heavier then he looked and she would have thought. His lean weight pressed her down into the silkily softness of the mattress and covers.

   Winthrop shifted his weight so that he wouldn’t squish her, yet just enough to keep her pinned against himself. He knew that he was a bit over the edge, had a bit to much to drink and had to much of her on his mind. Yet what could a simple kiss hurt?

   He leaned in slowly giving her plenty time to push him off yet she didn’t, he took that as a good sign. As he leaned in her eyes widened and her mouth parted the briefest fraction and that was all the invitation he needed. He brushed his lips against her’s in a bare tease, and then he went for the kill.

   Devil was dazed at how quickly a kiss could turn from teasing to demanding in only a few seconds. So she closed her eyes and went for a ride. Somehow she lost track of what was going on and only seemed to notice that something more was happening when she found herself with her shirt over her head and tossed onto the floor.

   “What are you doing?” Devil gasped.

   “What do you think?” asked a deep husky rumble against her neck.

   Devil shivered in delight at the moist feeling as he nibbled his way down her throat and to the hollow of her neck.

   Okay, she was really going to have to stop this soon. Real soon…and yet she didn’t want to. But it had to stop now. Before it went to far.

   Devil tried to push herself up and being to explain why she couldn’t do this when she found out she didn’t have to.

   He had fallen asleep with his arms around her waist and his head on her lap.

   She felt the insane urge to laugh at the irony and hopelessness of the situation. How ironic that she would drive the man to drink and then pass out. Most likely when he woke up he wouldn’t remember a thing just like her father never had after to much to drink and a beating.

   Devil sat up and tried to untie and untwist herself from Mr. Canter’s arm around her waist, but he tightened his grip on her.

   “No,” he muttered, turning his head so that she could see the side of his beautiful face.

   She started down at his face and soothed a hand over his forehead. If only his face could have looked so peaceful when he was awake. Maybe she could tease him into smiling everyday.

  He grumbled, frowning slightly when she stopped stroking his hair from his face.

   She resumed stroking his head and smiled slightly. Maybe everyday was asking a bit much. Devil realized how easy it was just then to get use to the kindness of a man who should have terrified her. He did still scare her, but she was used to him by now. He may not however know that he was being kind yet she did and somehow she knew the gruff kindness was what had started to change her.

   Devil frowned slightly. “Royal would have a cow if he saw me going soft like this.” She shrugged. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

   She plopped back on to the pillows, closing her eyes and petted him on the head over and over again. He snuggled closer like giant kitten.

   Like she had said, she had never been a good child. One night with the big bad boss couldn’t hurt.

...

Before he was even fully awake Winthrop knew he was going to have one hellofa morning to look forward to. His skull felt as if it was going to spilt open and he still felt a little fuzzy around the edges.

   “Damn,” he grumbled and then flipped onto his side.

   Only he didn’t. He hadn’t moved at all.

   He opened one sleep dusted eye and looked around to see what had him pinned to the bed. Expecting to see himself tangled in the bed covers he felt a shock go down his spine when he saw what, more like who, he was tangled up with.

  The very Devil was in his bed, sleeping with him.

   Winthrop tried not to stiffen at the contact and survey the situation. The kid was pressed tightly against his chest, resting her hand over his heart, breathing softly against his cheek, with the help of his very own arms to keep her there. One was under her chest curled under her side to hold her and the other was curved over her waist to pull her closer should she move away. Only then did he notice she didn’t wear a shirt and neither did he. He had her legs trapped between his own and he felt far too much not to have his very own body to tell him this was the best morning he had ever had, waking up next to her.

   Color flushed a dull red over his high cheek bones as a hot bucket of self preservation washed over him. His mind was yelling for him to jump out of the bed, that he didn’t need a woman in his bed, in his life. Let alone a woman that was this young and already a mother to a baby. Yet his body was putting on a damn good fight.

  Reluctantly he stared to untangle himself.

   “No.”

   Winthrop froze, he looked down.

   Devil snuggled closer to the heat that was warming her and fought to put the lid on the nightmare that was threatening her peaceful sleep.

   Winthrop noticed the change in her before he even thought of what was happening for it happened to him often enough. Her brow furrowed and she shifted restlessly against his side. She was having a nightmare.

   He lay back down next to him feeling a connection to her through this nightmare of her’s. They had more things in common then he would have thought. He gathered her to his chest and stroked her hair from head to waist as gently as he could with his trembling hands. It was the only think he could think of doing that might offer some measure of comfort, when no one had ever comforted him and he didn’t know how.

   “Shhh…it’s only a bad dream, sweet,” he whispered kissing her forehead. The endearment had come out without him noticing and he felt her hot tears sting his neck.