No Turning Back (12 page)

Chapter Eleven

Declan stared across the kitchen table at his brothers. Papers had been shuffled and lay in piles in front of them. Cal hadn’t looked at even one line. He was too busy nursing a bottle of water and doing nothing to hide his amusement as Beck laid out every argument, pointed to every expense they’d have to incur, and generally tried to quash any talk of keeping Shadow Hill.

Beck finally wound down. He flopped against the chair with his fingers wrapped around the arms. “So, after all that, do you want to keep this run-down piece of crap?”

It was an impressive presentation. Declan understood how his baby brother scored government and community services for people that no one else could get. Still, Declan’s answer hadn’t changed. If anything, he was entrenched in his position. “If you’re referring to the property, yes.”

“Wh . . .” Beck threw his hands in the air. “Why?”

“It’s a home.”

“They have those everywhere.” Beck glanced at Cal but got nothing. “Places that aren’t in this town.”

“Real estate is always a good investment.” Declan guessed that was true. He sure heard that piece of advice often enough as he got moved around with the Army and debated living off base. He also watched some people he served with get stuck trying to unload places when they deployed and that didn’t always work out so well.

Beck grabbed for the beer in front of him and started peeling off the label. “At least real estate is a better argument. Not convincing, but better.”

Cal moved then. Slightly and only to sit up straighter in his chair, but it was enough to get everyone’s attention. With those stealthy moves and the superior command over a room, Declan thought Cal would have done well in the military. Instead he stuck to odd jobs and constant relocations, which was why Declan had hoped Beck would be an easier sell on keeping the house and that, together, they could make a run at Cal.

“Then there’s how the house happens to be located in the same town of the woman you’re having sex with.” Cal flipped the water bottle top through his fingers as he stared Declan down.

Beck’s beer hit the table with a crack. “You finally had sex with Leah?”

This is exactly where Declan did not want the conversation to go, but . . . “Finally?”

“You seemed to be stumbling around in your attempts.”

Last thing Declan wanted or needed was a play-by-play on his sex life from his baby brother. “The answer is no and—”

“He means, not yet.” Cal kept flipping the top.

“— this conversation is over.”

“I’m guessing the thought of the two of you getting horizontal is clouding your judgment,” Cal said.

No way was Declan getting sucked into this conversation. Not when it was two against one and he had the most to lose. “I want a chance to fix Shadow Hill up. If we still want to sell on the back end, we’ll get even more money for it.”

“What about Leah’s offer?” Beck grabbed for a notepad and clicked his pen against it to bring the point up. “What is her purchase price? Let’s see if we can make it work.”

Cal smiled this time. “She offered to buy the place?”

There was just no way to separate Leah from the property. They were wrapped up together and Declan couldn’t figure out a way to break them apart. “Not really. Not for the kind of money she’d have to raise to afford it.”

Cal emptied the bottle then chucked it over his shoulder. The damn thing landed right in the sink without him taking aim. “Shutting down her real estate deal could put a wrench in your sex life.”

“I’ll worry about my sex life. Thanks.”

“Okay then.” Cal leaned over with his elbows balanced on the edge of the table. “Fine.”

Declan scoffed. Like he had any idea what that meant. “What?”

“The house. Let’s do it.”

Declan tried to think of something to say. He was too busy trying to figure out what angle Cal was working to celebrate the win.

From the open-mouthed stare, it looked like Beck didn’t get the change in position either. “You’re kidding.”

With a shrug, Cal reached behind him to grab another water bottle off the wood block. “I’ve got some skills and some money to invest. I’ll pay whatever needs to be paid to take it off the foreclosure block.”

Declan’s brain kicked into gear. He didn’t have much in the way of funds, not on the scale they would need for this renovation, but he would work his ass off. “We can keep track of who fronts what and take that off the top first on the back end.”

“If we sell.” Beck threw down the pen.

“There’s no need to go through all that extra paperwork on my account.” Cal turned to Beck. “I know you lawyer types like to make shit complicated but in my mind it’s easy. We own this together. Whatever goes in, regardless of who puts it in, doesn’t matter.”

“Are you sure?” Declan asked, even though he knew he should stay quiet and take the win.

“We all work, even you, lawyer boy, because I plan to show you how to use a hammer, and then we split any profit three ways coming out. If one of us wants to keep the place,” Cal shot Declan a knowing glance. “We figure out market value and set up a payment plan to buy the others out.”

“I’m in.” Declan rushed to say it before Beck could come up with an exception.

Beck did anyway. “Wait a second. You’re both forgetting the real problem.”

“Which is?” Cal stood up and went to the cabinets. He passed over crackers and a few cans. When he hit the bag of chips, he stopped.

“We can’t stay here.”

A rip tore through the room as Cal opened the bag and grabbed a handful of chips. “Why?”

“Charlie’s cons. The questions surrounding Grandmother’s acquisition of the house.” Beck held up fingers as if to emphasize his point. “Then there’s—”

Cal swallowed. “You sound like a lawyer.”

“There’s a good reason for that.”

“Ignoring his motivation, Declan wants to fix the place up.” Cal shrugged. “I’ve got nothing else going on, so why not.”

The idea of working with his brothers, building something with them, really appealed to Declan. Still, despite getting what he wanted, he had to throw out a disclaimer. If this thing went sideways he wanted to be spared his brothers’ wrath, though he doubted that would be possible since he launched this plan. “To be fair, the downsides are huge.”

Cal dumped the bag in the middle of the table. “It’s found money.”

Beck shook his head. “I’m not sure there is such a thing. Everyone and their mother—literally—will file a claim against the property. Everyone is coming after Dad and any property anywhere that he might have once touched. It’s insane, really.”

Not a big entry on the “con” list as far as Declan could tell. “Isn’t all of that happening anyway?”

“What’s the real problem, Beck?” Cal asked in a voice so deadly soft that the silence that followed the question thumped with tension.

After a few seconds, Beck dragged the chip bag to him by its corner. “I never thought you’d go along with this or that you’d want to stay in Sweetwater for more time than it took to sign your name to the sales contract.”

“You were wrong.” Cal rubbed his hands together. “So, that settles it.”

Declan still didn’t understand how he’d won this round. He went in at a deficit and now everything he wanted loomed right out in front of him. All he had to do was grab for it. “How exactly?”

“We all agreed.” Amusement filled Cal’s voice.

“I missed that part,” Beck mumbled over a mouthful of chips then turned the bag back to Cal.

He reached a hand in and came out with what looked like twenty chips. “Think of the time we’ll have to get to know each other again.”

“Is this really about brotherhood or about pissing off the town and enjoying the reaction?”

Cal pointed. “No, baby brother. It’s about Declan.”

Here it was. The bottom line. The one that would somehow crush Declan before he could stop it. “Excuse me?”

“Someone has to save you from your dick and its bad decision making. If you want to climb all over Leah Baron, I plan on being there to make sure she doesn’t stab you in the back while you’re thrusting.”

Beck’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth. “That’s quite an image.”

The same one that had been bouncing around Declan’s head for two days, only without the stabbing part. But the thrusting and the riding? Yeah, that duo had been burned in his brain before Cal mentioned it. The combination had Declan bracing a hand against the wall of the shower last night while he jerked off with the other. It was like he was a horny kid again.

“I can tell you one thing. When I finally do get Leah in bed, and that is going to happen and soon, you are not going to be standing there watching.”

Cal barked out a laugh. “Then I guess I better find something else to do around here. Let’s do an inventory of that work shed.”

Beck sighed. “This is unbelievable.”

Cal snatched the bag away and rolled up the end. The contents crunched when he threw it on the butcher’s block. “You could always leave and go back to your lawyer job helping indigent folks.”

“Or I can continue my temporary leave and stay here handling the estate while I make sure you two don’t kill each other.” Beck gathered up his files, putting them in stacks in some sort of order only his legal brain understood.

“An even better plan.” Cal cuffed Beck on the back of the head. “See? This is going to work out fine.”

Declan would be happy with anything that didn’t amount to a bloodbath.

Chapter Twelve

Leah waited a full day before going to find Declan again. She tried to ignore the fact he had her racing through town looking for him. And the whole wanting-to-see-him thing, well that just ticked her off.

She’d never been the beholden-to-a-man type. This giggly, happy feeling that spun around in her belly when she thought about his hands and how good he was with that mouth surprised her. The anger she’d nurtured for all those years disappeared so quickly she’d lost her emotional footing. He had her mixed up and stumbling.

Dinner went well last night and he’d asked her to breakfast. Just coffee, he said. She declined but by the time they’d pulled back into her driveway after the amazing Italian dinner, she changed her answer to yes. He hadn’t kissed her. Insisted she had to ask, per his date agreement.

Then he canceled breakfast.

Leaving the cryptic text this morning about needing to do some work didn’t help the situation. Hell, they hadn’t even agreed
to
date. Well, not technically. But when a guy offered breakfast, he should supply breakfast. She took that to mean Callen had said something to get Declan to back off.

The idiot.

Two idiots, actually.

She skipped knocking on the front door and swung around the side of the house. She refused to sneak since it wasn’t her style. And she wanted him to see her coming, full-on and tired of whatever game he insisted they play. The man had held her, shirt up and body ready to go, and now he acted like he barely knew her name.

Oh, hell no.

With a gaze traveling over the wide expanse of the backyard, she hunted for him. She headed for the work shed, figuring he was hiding behind a wall of hammers. Bad idea since she might take one down and use it on his thick skull.

“You look ready for battle.” Declan’s voice had her spinning around.

In her anger, she brushed right past him, not even seeing him. Which said something about the power of her inner grumblings because he was not an easy man to miss. He stood next to the rusting swing set with its crooked right side and a seat hanging from one falling chain.

With the nip in the air he wore a plaid shirt unbuttoned to hint at a white Henley underneath. Faded jeans that hugged his muscular thighs rounded out the outfit. Sexy and rough with hint of danger. The man wore casual better than any man she’d ever known.

His rolled-up sleeves showed off those forearms she loved to smooth her palms over. The work gloves gave him a maintenance-dude hotness that had her adjusting her wildest fantasies about him. Maybe it was time to give bedroom role-playing a shot.

Looked like his tool of choice was a wrench instead of a hammer. Fine with her. She’d use whatever weapon it took to knock some sense into him. “What are you doing?”

His eyebrow lifted at the snap in her tone. “Fixing the swing set.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s about to fall down.”

For some reason his reasonable response ticked her off even more. “And I guess it has to be done right this second, that there is nothing more important to you.”

Without bending over but with a heavy dose of dramatic male exhaling, he dropped the wrench into the tool box. Metal clanged and dinged. “Are we really arguing about a swing set?”

“We are not fighting.” Because that would be silly and she refused to be silly, or admit she was well on the road to acting that way.

“Are you sure because you have the sound of an angry woman.” He leaned against the pole then shot up straight again when the swing set groaned and shifted under his weight.

Irrational fury buzzed her brain. She knew she was going overboard. Worse, she was showing she cared and that was something she was trying hard not to do, but seeing him standing there looking all controlled and hot sparked something inside her. Something dark and wild that she tried to rein in even as it begged to run loose.

“Is that something you’re used to? That type of woman?”

“Wow, you are wound up.” His gaze slipped, traveling over her black pantsuit and lingering on the slip of lace that stuck out underneath her sort blazer. “Sexy outfit by the way.”

The visual tour made her muscles shake. The man hadn’t touched her or even moved and her heartbeat hammered. It’s like he had some secret superpower. One look and her common sense turned to mush.

She folded her arms over her chest. “It’s a boring suit.”

“Not on you. Looks good.” That sexy gleam sparkled in his eye again.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was his flirty smile. Whatever drove her there didn’t matter because she was careening, craving an answer. “Why did you cancel breakfast?”

“I had a meeting with the bank.”

The answer threw her off. “About the house?”

“Let’s stay on topic, shall we?”

“You could have called.” It had been almost twenty-four hours after all. Okay, more like seventeen, but close.

His face fell, all signs of flirty adorableness gone in a flash. “When?”

“Don’t pretend.”

“I don’t even know what we’re talking about.” This time he grabbed onto the pole.

She wondered if he was holding it or holding it up. “Since the last time I saw you. You canceled breakfast and then cut off all contact, which is interesting since you were all over me when you had the chance.”

“I texted.” He closed one eye and peeked at her with the other. “But go back to the ‘all over you’ thing.”

Much more of this and he’d have her spinning around in circles. That’s what it felt like inside her anyway. The ride refused to stop. “I want a real answer.”

He lifted both hands in the air in a gesture that looked suspiciously like “Bring it” and frowned. “Me, too.”

This thing where he turned everything around until she questioned whether she had the right to be frustrated in the first place was one of her least favorite things about him. She just wished she could come up with a longer list.

“Why did you have an investigator follow Callen?” Declan asked with a face blank of emotion.

That made one of them. Heat rushed to her cheeks and an unwelcome churning started deep in her gut. “I knew he was behind this.”

“And the ‘this’ is?”

The practiced-cluelessness thing was getting old. There, she could add something else to that “con” list. “Your sudden lack of interest.”

He choked on his breath. Actually doubled over coughing. “You’ve got to be joking.”

She rushed over, pounding on his back as she talked. “You went radio silent, all broody and quiet.”

“I spent most of the morning filling out paperwork and the night before imaging what it would be like to taste you.” He grabbed her hand and shifted until she stood in front of him. “Do you understand what I’m saying? Peeling your panties down and then using my tongue to—”

Her gaze scanned the yard for his sneaky brothers as she put a hand over his mouth. “I get it.”

After a quick kiss on her palm, Declan lifted her fingers and trapped her hand against his broad chest. “Not yet, but hopefully very soon.”

“Paperwork?”

“About the house, Leah. I told you we might not want to sell. We’re going through our options.”

Her stomach dropped. That was the best way to make her dad happy and keep everyone safe. If they bought the house that meant she lost out. Potentially, they all did. “We haven’t even worked on a number.”

“We might still, but not now.”

He had no idea what he was doing to her plans. She knew she should be furious about the house and arguing, but her mind kept going to something else. Despite the weight of her father’s expectations and all those years of investigating, all she cared about was the broken date and Declan’s lack of communication all day.

She’d lost perspective and she had no idea how to get it back or if she even wanted to.

“Besides.” He cleared his throat. “I’d rather we focus on the personal side of our relationship.”

The words carried a zap that had her heart thumping. Between the panties comment and the house information, all the energy drained out of her. Fighting with him exhausted her. Exhausted and exhilarated. Made her wonder if she needed therapy since every head-pounding arguing session led to a sharp desire to take his shirt off.

This was the problem with irresistible men. They were . . . irresistible.

She kicked her ego aside and focused on what really mattered to her, on why she really was there. “Then what was with the angry-male treatment?”

“You know we saw each other yesterday, right?” he asked with more than a little amusement in his voice.

And now he was being all logical . . . she hated that. “What exactly did your brother say to you about me?”

“Callen?”

That was a stall, and not a good one. “Do I need to worry about Beck, too? And do not sigh at me. Just answer the question. Callen, now. Talk.”

Declan started to exhale anyway but stopped when she shot him the female death stare. “Callen said that you had him followed.”

“You believed him?” Her fingernails dug into Declan’s shirt. She didn’t notice until his gaze went to her hand. Before he could point out her overzealous grip, she dropped her arm and stepped back.

“Is he wrong?”

“Kind of.” When Declan opened his mouth, she rushed to fill in the explanation. “I had someone look into your brother’s background.”

“I’m guessing you believe there’s a distinction between what you said and what I said.” Declan did that thing with his hands on his hips. His stance morphed but his tone stayed light.

But the sarcasm didn’t fool her. It was a defense mechanism. He fell back on it right as his anger level tipped into the red zone. She recognized the disconnect between the physical cues and the sound of his sexy voice because it happened all too often when they talked. Whether it was his way of controlling his temper or his checklist for a verbal battle, she wasn’t sure, but she could pick it out now and be ready.

“For the record, both of those things are an invasion of privacy and, frankly, a little high on the scary stalker scale.”

He had a point. The digging around never felt right to her. Necessary, but dirty, like she was lowering herself right into Charlie’s pile of mud. “The investigator looked through public files and talked to people. No one sat outside Callen’s apartment and took photos. No one followed him. No one pulled his phone bills. No one put him in danger or chased him down the street.”

“Those scenarios rolled off your tongue pretty easily.”

“But it’s the truth and you could have heard it earlier if you had asked.”

The soft breeze blew through his hair. He ran a hand over it as if to calm it back down. “That was my plan for this afternoon but you beat me to it by coming here first.”

His words snagged her attention. One second she watched those strong fingers sweep through his hair like she was dying to do. The next, she stared at him, willing him to be telling the truth. “You weren’t hiding from me?’

“I plan to be inside you very soon, so no.”

Well, okay.
“No dodging there.”

“I figure there’s no reason to hide my intentions. I haven’t exactly been playing hard to get here.”

“Then I’ll return the favor with some information. Your brother left with Charlie all those years ago. I wanted to know if he was a junior Charlie.” With her heels sinking into the grass, she stepped to the side, putting the swing set pole between them and shifting to stand on a chunk of cement. She brushed her fingertips over the chipping paint, letting the cold seep into her skin. “Look, Declan, I never lied about my feelings for your father or my desire to get Shadow Hill back.”

“You’ve edited your allegations a bit.”

“Meaning?”

“Do you still think I’m a con man?”

She looked at the house, at the trees lined up on the far edge of the property, the same stretch she walked in the evening when the cool air blew off the water and over the land. Looked everywhere but at him as he leaned down, straight on face-to-face, and forced the issue.

Fighting it, denying it, amounted to nothing more than a waste of energy. “No, I don’t see you as a con man.”

“What about Callen?”

She drew the line there. Giving details would only open the wound again, and she desperately wanted to soothe over whatever wounds she had with Declan. “I don’t know Callen.”

“Sounds like you’ve been trying to get to know him by digging around in his past.”

“Do you blame me? He was Charlie’s sidekick.”

“And by that you mean oldest son.”

“I think it was more than that.” Not a sense. She knew. The paperwork backing it up was spread all over her bedroom floor.

“If so, not by choice.”

“If you say so.” Her palm slid up the swing set pole. “This was supposed to be mine.”

“What?”

“My father bought this and put it together soon after he found out my mother was pregnant.” Leah shook it a bit, testing its sturdiness but it failed when two fingers could move it. “He thought every house should have an area for kids to play.”

“That doesn’t quite match the man I met outside of the diner.”

Leah knew she couldn’t win that argument. Declan was right. “Dad changed and not for the better after my mother left. The situation with the town, with the slow drying up of his income that led to the inevitable loss of this place a few years later, made something snap. His temper got shorter and whatever ability he had to accept the rough patches disappeared. He hugged his fury close until it took over most of his personality.”

“That sounds closer to the guy I met.” Declan touched the chain to the swing and sent the broken seat spinning in a circle.

“He lost everything, Declan. And I’m not talking about the house. Dignity. Respect. My mother.”

“I’ve heard the rumor your mother thought she was in love with Charlie.” The change from self-assured to uncomfortable played in every line of Declan’s body. His shoulders curved and all attention went to the vinyl seat and a sudden need to keep it moving.

Leah got it. The tug, that invisible line from the past that stretched to the future and bound them together. It colored everything. Every conversation came with an underlying pulse of your-family-ruined-mine and no matter how she tried to climb out from under it, how she tried to analyze and control it, it sat there, taunting.