I Run to You (10 page)

A moment of silence passed before Jordan
said, “I like your Mom.”

“Everyone does. She’s a strong woman.”

“They’ve invited me over, but I’ve never
gone. I’m not much for that family stuff. Don’t know much about
it.”

Ah, that tough protective wall. The
survivalist, who knows not to be vulnerable.

Brook looked across at her. “You go to the
farmhouse?”

“I’ve jammed with Renee a few times. She’s
easy to get along with…” The half-smile flashed. “Too damn upbeat
all the time to be normal.’

“It’s all that organic food she eats.” Brook
snickered. “But whatever my past is with Coy, or any Coburn, I can
tell you that if you give them a chance they’ll take you into their
hearts, become your champions. Shit. They will drive you crazy with
some of their redneck ways and blood sport competitiveness. But
overall, you’ll never regret it.”

“I guess.”

Brook said, “And, if we’re going to get a
band together, we’ll be at the farmhouse, and I can bet you any
amount they’ll be Coburn’s walking in and out.”

Jordan pushed away from the rail and took her
own seat again, this time resting her helmet on her thigh, absently
fingering the chinstrap. “I’m pretty much a loner. It works best
that way.”

“I’m cool with giving people space,
respecting their boundaries,” Brook murmured, “But one thing I
learned about a group is that you become something like a family.
Spend so much time rehearsing and stuff, you end up knowing a lot
about each other.”

“I won’t cop out on you.”

Brook smirked, “We won’t let you anyway.
Particularly, if you are any good. If Renee thinks you are, I know
you are. So just get used to us.”

“I’ll try.” Jordan smiled a bit and
nodded.

She looked around and then back at Brook.
After a bit, getting to her feet, she offered, “You and Renee
decide when we get together and I’ll arrange my schedule at Rafe’s.
I think Renee has a cousin, Donna, who plays drums. She said
something about Ally Coburn…a Keats now, I think. She’s divorced
with a couple of kids, runs the tattoo place in Copper Creek. Word
is, there’s no better at rhythm guitar—and—if rumors are true, can
play sax.”

“If she’s a Coburn, it’s in the genes.” Brook
laughed.

They walked down the steps and to Jordan’s
Harley. It was an awesome bike, obviously custom made. After she
had the helmet on, and was astride it, Brook said, “It should be
interesting. Kick ass, combining all our music tastes and styles.
Once we work out the kinks, we’ll try some original stuff.”

“I’m good with that.” Jordan nodded. A
heartbeat later she said, “Some of these people around here don’t
like me. They don’t know me, but they don’t trust me—because of the
way I look.”

“Some of these people—” Brook supplied, “Are
narrow minded asses, who wouldn’t enhance your life anyway.”

Jordan laughed at that.

Brook stepped back; watching Jordan start the
engine and turn the bike, then ride off. As she did, Brook noticed
a few more tattoos— a snowy dove on her left shoulder—and across
her spine, low down, was a phoenix.

She walked back inside, and thought about
Jordan, a cool chick obviously, who had all the outward toughness,
the bad ass looking shell—inside had overcome, struggled—was still
dealing with pain and loss. It was amazing how strong women were.
How they had to be.

Jordan had a beautiful face, semi full lips,
slim nose, and incredible dusky skin—those green eyes—but honestly,
people would not see that. Brook was not ignorant of the negatives
of living in a small country town. They would see blue hair,
tattoos, and piercings and stereotype her.

Brook cleaned up the deck before she headed
inside for bed. Nothing made life perfect. But, choices, the wrong
ones—could make it complicated. Fate, things out of our control
—could throw it all out of balance too. And you were never, ever,
the same.

Later, as she lay in bed, she once again
summoned her determination to make life work here. Of course, she
still had to deal with Coy. But she would do it. She would do it
—and not show one damn remnant of that past pain and heartache.

She heard him saying those words to her, I’m
sorry, I love you. And set her jaw teeth against any response. She
had gotten to say what she had wanted to years ago—Fuck you. She
just had to try to maintain the distance. She could not, would not,
be his buddy and friend. To hell with that.

You should be able to. She heard her mind
whisper. Why can’t you?

Sleep…just sleep…and stop thinking.

~*~

“So, did you like her?” Renee asked the next
day, dropping by Brook’s on the way to work. She set a basket on
Brook’s counter and began taking out homemade jams, honey with the
cone, and all sorts of aromatic herbs out, everything, from eatable
stuff to bath oils.

“Of course I liked her. She’s cool, and she
bloody plays slide guitar!”

“I wasn’t sure, you know. She’s kind of
standoffish.”

“Cynical, you mean. She has right to be.”

Renee nodded. “I sensed that.”

Not sure how much the woman had confided to
her, Brook said instead, “What do I owe you for all of this?”

“Not a thing. It’s a welcome home
basket.”

Brook opened the jam, dipped her finger in
it, tasted, and rolled her eyes. “O, this is good. I was afraid you
were expecting me to eat something—”

“—Tasteless and weird?” Renee laughed. “No.
All of those are natural. But that doesn’t mean it’s bland.”

“Good. Because I am skinny due to some
recessed gene—not because I live on bean sprouts. I love food.”

“You’re not skinny. You are svelte. There is
a difference. Skinny people have bones poking out. Like those Vogue
models.”

Brook laughed and poured them a soda. She
eyed Renee’s work uniform, black pants, a T-shirt and black clogs.
Renee’s hair and makeup looked good. She was really an attractive
woman. A pocket-sized beauty.

“You know, for a city girl, you’ve actually
taken to this country living pretty good.”

“Ph—leaze. Mom was one with pretensions. Not
me. I do not think the sibs do either. Except for the ones off
trying to be something they’re not.”

Brook leaned against the counter, listening
while Renee told her one of the twins was into Goth, vampires,
something that was sure to freak “conservative—it’s all about
appearances, Deena, out. Her other brother was experimenting with
drugs. The youngest, Lily was something of a wild child too.

“You weren’t really, were you?”

Renee shrugged. “I could have been. I might
have, if Uncle Mitch hadn’t encouraged me to stay here. Who
knows?”

Reaching for her hand, Brook said, “I’m glad
you’re here.”

“Me too.”

Brook was about to discuss the rehab center,
and starting work at the Tavern the following day, when someone
knocked at the door. She went to answer it, smiling at Rafe
standing there—looking gorgeous.

“Come in.”

He stepped inside, spotted Renee, and greeted
her.

“Hey.” Renee came across and they embraced
She said, “I’m off to work.”

“Don’t rush off. I was just going to—.”

“No. I’m running late as it is.” Renee
laughed, waving off his concern. She shot Brook a brow-wiggling
glance before heading out the door.

Brook closed it and joined Rafe, who was
looking over, and sniffing the jars and vials, on the counter.

“She’s good at this.” He waved his hand.

“Yes.” Brook asked, “Can I get you
something?”

“Soda.”

She got it, and then invited him out on the
deck.

Brook noticed he wore stylish jeans, and a
black silk button up shirt. God. He was almost too good to look
at.

On the deck, he slipped sunglasses on. His
wavy hair ruffling, he leaned back against the rail and sipped his
soda.

Brook half sat on a lounger, wondering why
she felt so awkward suddenly. She had on old cut offs, was barefoot
and wore a red T-shirt. She had not expected company. But she
didn’t mind—except that she was makeupless and not exactly looking
her best.

It apparently didn’t effect to him, because
Rafe slid the sunglasses up and his dark eyes went over her in
that, likes what I see, way, before offered, “I came by to see if
you’d like to go out later?”

“I’d love to.” She told him she would start
at the Tavern, day shift, the next day.

Rafe nodded. His gaze roamed her face. “How’d
it go?”

She knew he meant the (welcome home.) “Great.
Good to see everyone. Typical Coburn bash. Too much food, and
plenty of noise.”

“And?

“Yeah.” Brook got up and walked to the rail
closest to her, looking down at the fishpond Mitch had put in.
“Levi came over, with Max.” She filled in a bit, telling him how
she liked the boy, how beautiful he was. Then she said, “Coy was
driving by and Levi waved him down—”

“And you two talked?”

“Not like that.” She shook her head and
turned, leaning back as he was, but not avoiding his gaze. She told
him how Levi had innocently put them on the spot.

“What did Coy say?”

“That he was sorry.” She looked away and then
let out a long heavy breath.

Before he could ask more, Brook murmured,
“What time you do you want to go out? And do I need to dress
up?”

“Casual. I thought we’d go eat someplace
besides my restaurant, then have drinks at the tavern.”

“I like your place.”

He smiled. “Thanks. I expect you to eat there
a lot. But there’s a place I like—”

“Sure.”

“Brook?”

She met his gaze, somewhere in her mind
noticing how impossibly thick his black lashes were. How sensual
his face was. “Yeah?”

“It’s a date.”

She gathered he was laying it out there. Not
some old friend thing—but a date.

“I’m flattered that you asked me.”

He smiled that familiar Rafe smile. “You
can’t be too surprised—after I put it out there the other day.”

“Actually, Rafe,” she said honestly, “I
imagine you could have your pick of women, and maybe you do.
Despite how biased my family is, I’m really not some raving beauty,
so I’m not sure what you see in me.”

He pushed away from the rail and sat the soda
down. Coming to stand near her, bringing some lime scent and sun
with him, he murmured, “Maybe it is the residue of what I felt when
I shouldn’t. I was attracted to you—and I am not sure I can explain
all of the reasons why. But it’s never really changed.”

Brook felt all the right things, flushed
skin, and tingles, under his intense focus on her. After clearing
her throat, she confessed, “I like everything about you, Rafe.”

Rafe reached out and cupped her cheek. “It’s
mutual.” He leaned in but kissed her so softly, so quickly, she
didn’t get to savor it.

When he dropped his hand, Brook watched him
finish the soda.

They walked back through the house. He said
he would pick her up at seven.

Brook leaned against the front rail, watching
him get into a deep green sports car. He paused with the door
open—and looked up at her for some moments. Again, her body warmed,
her blood rushed. In spite of that rescue on prom night, in spite
of talks, and his funny cards, all of it—she was seeing Rafe —the
man—the one who wanted to date her—and intended to. If she’d cut
her favorite, most sexy fantasy guy, out of a cologne ad, or
whatever. He still would not compare to Rafe standing there,
looking delicious. It didn’t hurt that he had all the other
qualities you would want in a man either.

“Casual.”

She nodded. “Will do.”

He flashed a white grin, and got into his
car.

An hour later Renee called for all the
details. “Ooooh. A date with Rafe. A real one!”

Brook laughed. “Don’t make me nervous. I've
known Rafe for years.”

“Not really. I mean—”

“Yeah, okay. I’m aware of the honor.”

Snorting, Renee declared, “Honey, most the
women would give their right tit to date that man.”

“I’m sure he’s no monk.”

“You hear rumors. But hell, you figure half
are made up, half are envy. Even if he was player, he wouldn’t be
with you.”

“I know that.” Brook sat on the edge of the
tub. “It feels—almost like it’s something we need to do.”

“Yeah. He liked you back then, and you
fantasized about him—”

“Did I tell you that? I don’t recall telling
you that?”

“You don’t have to. I saw you get all
sparkle-eyed and flushed. You are human. I’d assume you
wondered…”

“Umm.” Brook released a breath. “Well, I
better get off here and pamper myself a bit.”

“K. I’ll be on shift if y’all stop by.”

“We will.”

“Oh, goody.”

Brook chuckled. “I figured you’d like
that.”

“I’d love to see you fall in love.” Before
Brook could comment, Renee said. “Got to’ run. You go get purdy.
See you later.”

Brook hung up and began running her bath. She
realized she was excited—nervous. And—really—excited.

Chapter 5

Rafe pulled on a tailored crimson shirt, with
his black jeans. He turned up the cuffs, and did the buttons,
leaving the top two undone. Through the oval standing mirror, he
could see clear though to the bathing room, where he had taken out
the walls. Putting on his watch, he smiled absently, remembering
what Sunny had said when he had seen the derelict Victorian. After
calling it a money pit, and being unable to talk Rafe out of buying
it, he had dubbed it, le pigeon coop.

The place had been terrible. But, Rafe took
his time. He traveled all over when he could, buying wood to
restore it. When he couldn’t afford the real antiques, he bought
reproductions. Not many yet.