Jerk: A Bad Boy Romance (13 page)

And so was Clay.

His mood lifted the instant his sister left the room. Clearly there was a lot of stuff going on between the siblings, had been for a long time. With him being on painkillers, it probably wasn’t the best time to try to deal with it.

In the interest of keeping the peace and eventually talking about my aunt’s will, I sat silent and listened to him rant. Luckily the bluster was as short lived as a summer storm. Heavy one minute and gone the next.

And then a second storm struck, a very different kind.

A young child with wild hair the color of Clay’s and enormous blue eyes came roaring into the room, arms flailing. She launched herself into the air and landed on Clay’s lap. If it hurt him, it didn’t show. I winced but he didn’t.

She wrapped her chubby little limbs around him and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I love Licorice, Uncle Clay! I love him so much!”

Clay’s expression did a complete one-eighty. He looked so happy, his smile one hundred percent genuine. His eyes soft and kind. He gathered the little girl into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “Good. Now, remember. It’s your responsibility to take care of him. Every day,” he told her in a soft voice.

“I won’t forget! I promise!”

“Food. Water. Exercise. Training. It’s a lot of responsibility.”

The little girl nodded, out-of-control waves bouncing. “I know.” She hopped off his lap. “I already gave him food and water. Now Mama’s gonna show me how to brush him.”

His smile broadened. “Very good. Go, brush your pony.”

“I love you, Uncle Clay!” his niece yelled as she dashed from the room.

With that sweet, charming smile still in place, he watched the little girl run off to brush her new pony.

“She’s adorable,” I said, which was no lie. She looked other-worldly, like a sprite or fairy. “How old is she?”

“She just turned three. And she is the best thing in my life.” Clay smiled, stretched. “Carrie and I don’t agree on much, but I give her credit for one thing. That kid is...” His eyes sparkled. “She’s special. And I’m spoiling her rotten.” He sighed. “Wishing you hadn’t come over yet?”

“Of course not.” I couldn’t help grinning. It was eye-opening, seeing Clay like this—stoned out of his mind but totally honest and open. It seemed the drugs were stripping his defenses, letting me see a different side of him. “Why would you say that?”

He laughed, his eyes getting all twinkly.

Oh damn. Not the twinkles.
A warm, squishy feeling whooshed through me. It was easy to forget what a bastard Clay could be when I was seeing him like this, fawning over his precious little niece. Watching him with that little girl, and knowing about the child he’d claimed as his own, even though he wasn’t, it was easy to see him as a father someday, cuddling his own child and treating her like a princess.

And to imagine him as a husband. How would he treat his wife? Would he shower her with love too?

This kind of thinking is going to get you into trouble!

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his expression fading slightly as if he could read my thoughts.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I squirmed a little and stared down at the floor. Nice floors, he had. It was tile but looked like wood. “I’m just a little...”

“Bored?” he offered. He was wrong. Bored, I was not. Far from it. But I wasn’t going to correct him. “I know you promised Carrie you’d stay, but you don’t have to. I’m fine. She lied about the smoking. I don’t have any cigarettes. The pain’s under control. I can take care of myself. I meant it when I said I don’t need anyone hovering over me.” He grabbed a medication bottle, sitting on the table next to him, shook out a couple of tablets, dumped them into his mouth, and swallowed.

Yeah, sure. The pain was completely under control. That was why he was eating those tablets like freaking candy. “I have no intention of hovering over anyone.” I lifted my gaze, my eyes finding his again. Oh damn. Another wave of warmth washed through me.

“I don’t need a nurse.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Though maybe it would be fun to get a sponge bath...”

A massive blast of heat ripped through me as the image of his beautiful, naked body, stretched out on the bed, all for me, raced through my mind. “I see you’re well enough to be a prick.” I stood and gave him a faux angry glare, hoping the furious act would hide the real reason for my flaming blush. I was totally melting inside. Not only because I was now imagining running my soapy hands over his smooth, warm, satiny skin, but also because of how sweet and adorable he’d been with his little niece. I liked Clay Walker. I genuinely liked him. At least, I liked the side that was generous and kind and patient. And I didn’t want to like him. “Maybe you don’t need my help after all.”

“Easy, kitten. I don’t want you running out of here yet.” He grabbed my hand again and pulled. It amazed me, how strong he was, despite the injury and medications. “Don’t sit way over there. I have to shout. It’s tiring. Have some mercy.”

Keeping with my angry act, I slitted my eyes. “I’ll sit on the couch if you behave.”

“Of course I’ll behave.” Smiling like the wolf that was about to scarf down Red Riding Hood, he patted the couch. Right, sure, he was going to behave. “Let’s talk. I’m fucking bored. I can’t remember the last time I’ve sat on my ass all day.”

That I could understand. This was a man who worked every day. Worked hard. Even though it looked like he was swimming in money. Sitting around doing nothing wasn’t even part of his vocabulary.

I eased down on the couch, making sure there was a decent amount of space between his body and mine.

He laughed. “I promise I won’t rape you. You look terrified.”

I wasn’t terrified of him. I was terrified of myself. Because seeing him like this, while having doubts about his bastard-ness meant my heart was softening toward him. Softening fast. Like, freaking butter sitting in the blazing sun.

That was dangerous. Very dangerous.

To placate him, I scooted a little closer. But I stared straight ahead, rather than at him. He was so gorgeous, with his slanted cheekbones and dark, wavy hair and perfect mouth. I didn’t want those tingles coming back. It was probably a losing battle, but it was one I didn’t want to totally give up. Yet.

“That’s a little better,” he said.

“So what do you want to talk about?” I asked the window as I tried to cool my sizzling blood and calm my jangling nerves.

“Nothing in particular. Maybe you have something you’d like to bring up?”

Ah ha! So he knew I’d come here with my head swimming with questions. And he was willing to answer them.

It was time to clear things up and find out exactly what was going on.

But where should I start?

My gaze swept the room, roving from one expensive-looking piece of furniture to another. Above the fireplace hung a massive and beautiful framed portrait of some guy wearing old-fashioned clothes. The tiled floors were covered in the softest rugs I’d ever stepped foot on. And the house itself was just as impressive.

“This house is nothing like the old house,” I said. It was a lame start, but it was a start.

“That’s because the old place was a shithole. It was falling down.” He stretched then conveniently rested one arm on the back of the couch—behind me. A buzz of electricity zapped through me.

“I remember. But it had some charm,” I said to his knee.

“And I’ve kept some of it and put it in this place.” He pointed to the fireplace. “The mantle came from the old place.” He tapped my shoulder. “Do you dislike this house?”

I glanced at him. Mistake. Another zap zigzagged through my body. “No. Not at all. It’s... grand.”

“But?”

“Well.” I swallowed. I needed to stay focused. I was here to get some answers, to find out whether he was trying to steal my inheritance or help me. I was not here to lust over his picture perfect biceps. Or kiss his totally kissable lips...
Stop it!
I cleared my throat, wishing I could clear my head as easily. “It must have been expensive.”

“So you want to know how I managed to pay for it?” He chuckled. “No beating around the bush today? I’m impressed.”

“I’m not the skittish little girl you knew four years ago.” To prove my point I looked him straight in the eyes.

His eyes scanned my body, the male appreciation glimmering in them making me warm. “That, I’m fully aware of.”

His confession left me tongue-tied for a moment. I sucked in a gulp of air, replenishing the oxygen in my brain. “So, yes. How did you pay for it? What’s this Pronghorn Holdings company?”

“It started right after I graduated.” He slid down slightly, kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Several of my buddies from school inherited ranches after their parents retired and moved south to warmer climates. They didn’t want them, so I bought them, negotiating land contracts because I didn’t have the cash to pay in full. It wasn’t easy the first year but after that, things started to turn around” He nodded. “I don’t like to brag, not about business.” He gave me another of those hungry wolf grins. “Other things...well, sure. But not money. I did some things right. And I had a little luck on my side too. Your aunt noticed what I was doing and asked me to come on board, to help you once she was gone. So I accepted.”

That was exactly as Harper thought. He hadn’t taken the job to try to undermine me and steal my inheritance.

“I’m a lot of things. An asshole. A bastard. But I’m not a thief.” He set his hand on my shoulder. “I can be a total prick when it comes to women. I’ll give you that. But I would never steal your inheritance. I need you to believe me.”

I believed him.

But his touch, and the electricity zapping between us was overwhelming. I couldn’t speak, only nod my head.

The hand on my shoulder slid up to my neck. His eyes locked on mine, searching. The air thinned and crackled with static. My heart skipped a beat or two.

Was he going to kiss me? I didn’t want him to kiss me.

No, really. I didn’t.

Or did I?

The memory of Clay and that woman, whatever her name was, walking down Main Street flashed through my mind.

No!

I placed my hand over his, intending to pull it away. But instead, I held it in place. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t push it away. “Clay,” I said, in my sexiest fuck-me voice.

Well, that wasn’t going to help!

Clay’s head inched closer.

Crap!

“Clay, please.” This time my words came out as a whisper. Weak and breathy.

That wasn’t going to help either. If anything, it sounded like I was asking him to kiss me.

I wasn’t.

Our breath mingled.

Was I?

My lips tingled.

No. No!

My fingers curled, fingertips sinking between his. I pulled.

He leaned back. “You still don’t trust me.” He laughed. “Your aunt was right. You
are
smart.”

“It’s not because I don’t believe you,” I told him as my heart practically beat its way out of my ribcage.

“No?”

“No, it’s because...like you said, you’re a prick with women. You hurt me.”

He clapped his hands around my face. “And
you
hurt
me
,” he confessed as he stared into my eyes.

I hurt him?Me?
“When?”

He jerked his hands away. “I heard you, Morgan.”

Heard me? Say what? When?
“What?”

“That morning, after the first time we...” Moving slowly, carefully, he folded his arms over his chest. “I heard what you said to your aunt about me.”

My heart started hammering as I frantically searched my memory. My face burned. Guilt. It was guilt making my face hot. But I didn’t even know why.

Had I said something about Clay that day? Would I have said something cruel when he’d done nothing to deserve it? That wasn’t like me.

It was a long time ago. I couldn’t remember.

He laughed. “Let me guess, you don’t remember.”

I shook my head. “I really don’t, Clay.”

“Of course you don’t.” He leaned forward and scrubbed his face with his hands.

This was awful! I’d said something mean? Me? “What? What did I say?”

“I haven’t been able to forget your words in four years. Four fucking years of having them echo through my fucking head. And you don’t remember?”

I
couldn’t breathe.

My heart was thumping so loudly I could barely hear what Clay was saying.

This was it, the answer I’d been waiting for. All this time I’d wondered why Clay had dumped me after the night he’d taken my innocence. He’d broken my heart. Obliterated it. Pulverized it.

All this time I’d told myself it was his fault—that he was just an asshole who didn’t care.

But here he was, telling me I was wrong.

It was
me
?

My fault?

“Clay, tell me. It had to be a mistake. Maybe you’re remembering wrong. Maybe it was after I found out about... Or... a misunderstanding—“

“No!” he shouted, making me jump. In a softer voice, he continued. But the redness in his complexion didn’t lighten. “It wasn’t a misunderstanding. I know what you said and when you said it. You said, ‘Clay Walker is nothing. A nobody who’ll do nothing. The minute I leave here, I’ll forget about him’.”

Silence hung heavy in the air as he glared at me, deep hurt turning his eyes black.

Had I really said something so cruel and callous? And if I had, how could I have meant it? Nothing in those words rang true. Clay was
not
a nobody. And he was in no way forgettable. How could I have said that?

After that night he disappeared and I was crushed. I was so hurt I actually became physically ill. My aunt even took me to the doctor.

“If I said that, I couldn’t have meant it,” I reasoned as I mentally wrestled with my confusion. It didn’t make sense that I’d say something so mean, not to my aunt, not to anyone. I wouldn’t have had any reason to lie to my aunt. She wouldn’t have punished me if I’d told her I was madly, desperately in love with Clay.

I wanted to remember.

But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t! 

If only there was some way to rewind time.