Swept Away (44 page)

Brock swallowed slowly. Money—he was being offered a shitload of money. His grandfather
was dying, no changing that, but money could make it all go a hell of a lot easier—both for
Grandpa and for him.

“You said I couldn’t ever come back. But what about when he dies? I need to come back for
that, man. I need for him to have somebody at his funeral.”

“You’ve got a brother, don’t you?”
“He’s in prison.”

Spencer sighed. “Well, I’m sorry, Brock, but no go. You leave, you’re gone for good. That’s the deal.”

Brock leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees, then ran his hand back through his hair. A
funeral was one day, and Grandpa wouldn’t even be there, not really. But right now, Brock
wasn’t able to take care of him well enough—he was alone too much, they were too poor,
Brock couldn’t cook for shit. The only good times for his grandpa these days were when he
was asleep. The night Kat had shown up, Grandpa had been sleeping, quiet, at peace, and
Brock had slipped out just to get away from it all for a little while.

“I have a couple of demands,” Brock said.

Spencer quirked half a smile, almost as if in respect. “Let’s hear them.”

“You get him a big, fancy-ass TV delivered out to the house.” Watching TV was about all Grandpa could do these days, and Brock knew it distracted him from the pain. “And you get
somebody to cook for him, somebody who can cook decent, and you get him some good food
—whatever he wants.” Grandpa didn’t eat much anymore, but every now and then he craved
something hearty and homemade.

“Reasonable enough,” Spencer replied. “Anything else?”

Brock thought for a moment, his mind racing, wondering if he was forgetting anything
important. Finally, he said, “No. No, I guess not.”

Spencer looked pleased. “Then we have a deal?”

Goddamn, that’s when it hit him, what he’d just agreed to. To leave. To leave his grandpa to
die without him.

But when he looked at it, he couldn’t stop thinking that the gain outweighed the loss. If there
was one thing in the world Grandpa didn’t want, it was to leave Brock with a lifetime of debt.
Your life’s already been too damn hard as it is, boy. Don’t want to add to that. He thought his
grandfather’s remaining days might go a lot easier knowing that burden had been lifted. Now he could tell Grandpa he didn’t have to worry.

Although as he shook hands with Spencer, then walked out through the back room and into the
intense Florida heat, he couldn’t help thinking he suddenly knew what it was like to make a
deal with the devil.

Chapter Sixteen

“Kitten, when I turned you down out at the swamp, it had nothing to do with not finding you attractive, trust me. It was because you were only seventeen years old, not legal yet. And I was
tempted as hell, but I was afraid your dad might find out and put me in jail. Plus, I wasn’t sure
if you knew what you really wanted, know what I mean?” He paused, spoke slower. “And I
guess I wondered if you only wanted me because you were rebelling against him—thought
maybe I was just the guy from the wrong side of the tracks, a way to break the rules.”

Oh God. It had been that simple? All this time? It had just never dawned on Kat. That all made
so much sense, yet it had never once crept into her self-absorbed, woe-is-me, spoiled girl’s
mind. Despite the warmth of the day, a chill shivered down her spine.

He continued, although his voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “As for leaving town on your
birthday,” he said with a sigh, “shit, kitten...”

“What? Why did you leave? Whatever it is, I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

He looked doubtful, worried, and she couldn’t imagine why. “Are you sure you want to know
this? Because...it’s big, honey. It’ll change the way you look at...a lot of things.”

She let out an impatient breath next to him in the hammock. “Of course I’m sure. Just tell me.”
“It’s about your dad,” he said, then dropped his eyes before raising them back.

Her dad? “What about him?”

“Kitten, your dad got wind that something was brewing between us. So he called me into his
office and he bribed me to leave town.”

She gasped, beyond stunned. “What do you mean? Bribed you how?”

“The usual way. Money. Which I needed damn bad. He offered to give my grandfather
everything he needed to make his last days comfortable, and to pay his medical bills. We didn’t
have much insurance, so it was” He looked discouraged, just remembering. “It was overwhelming. Hospitals and collection agencies calling us every day, trying to look for
something to take from us, but there was nothing there. It made my grandpa sicker than he
already was to heap that kind of burden on me. Even though it was an impossible amount of
money for most people, he still felt ashamed that he couldn’t pay it.

“Your dad also fired me when he made the offer, which meant we were even more screwed—
my paycheck was the only thing that brought groceries and medicine into the house, the only
thing that kept the electric on. Even a week or two without it while I tried to find something else
would have been disastrous, and more stress and worry my grandpa didn’t need.

“So I took the deal. And I went home and talked it over with Grandpa. He didn’t like the idea
of me leaving any more than I did, but he agreed it was the best of our options. That’s when he
encouraged me to make something of myself. He said he’d seen I was responsible enough to
take care of him, seen I could work and hold a job—unlike Bruno, and that I had a good heart
in me.” Brock seemed a little lost in the memory now, peering up into the palm fronds
overhead, clearly seeing something Kat never could, and she lay watching him, still aghast, trying to absorb it.

“So I left, the next night, on your birthday. And it turned out to be my greatest regret, like I
told you. Because I let my grandfather die without me. And even though we agreed on it, even
though he saw it as a fresh start for me and it turned out to be exactly that, when word reached
me that he’d died, I couldn’t help thinking how alone he must have felt, even with a nurse at his
side, and how scary it must have been without anyone there who loved him.”

Kat wiped away the tear she felt rolling down her cheek and wanted desperately to comfort
him. “But at least you made good on your promise to him.”

She saw him swallow back his emotions. “Yeah. Ironic, though, isn’t it? That I would turn out
to be in law enforcement,” he said, trying for a grin, but it came out sad, “given that my family
historically spent a lot more time breaking the law than trying to keep it.”

She attempted to return the smile, but so many kinds of sadness flowed through her in great, rushing rivers that she barely knew what to think or how to feel. “So you’re telling me,” she
finally said, “that all this happened just because my father wanted to keep you away from me?”
It sounded too horrific to be true—and yet, she knew her father. His love for her was
sometimes desperate, controlling and maybe even a little conniving.

Brock drew his gaze to hers. “Sorry, kitten. I never planned to tell you. Even after I found you
here. I despise your dad—for obvious reasons—but I never wanted to hurt you, never wanted
to mess up what you have with him.”

She wiped away another tear. Desperate, controlling, and conniving were one thing, but it was hard to think of her dad being the kind of man who hurt people in an exaggerated attempt
to protect her. “He’s always saying he’d do anything for his family,” she began gently. “I
guess he meant it. I’m so sorry, Brock. So sorry you had to suffer because of me. Because I
was being so pushy and aggressive with you.” She looped her arms around his neck and
lowered a soft kiss to his mouth.

Sorrow still laced his smile, but his dark eyes shone hot on her. “Don’t apologize, kitten.
You’re beautiful when you’re aggressive, and believe it or not, I wouldn’t trade that memory. I
told you, it stayed with me.” His voice went lower, dropping to a whisper. “When I’m in
danger, I think of you, naked and on top of me. It takes me to a much better place, and then I
can go on, get back to work, until the next time I need you, and you’re always there.”

She kissed him again, deeper this time, just needing to feel that connection with him, the
warmth that stretched so tautly between them when their bodies came together. She pressed her tongue into his mouth, found the moisture of his, let it consume her. Heat mingled with their
sadness, and sharing it made it somehow better.

God, she still couldn’t quite fathom what her father had done. He’d changed Brock’s life, and
hers, too—without her knowledge or permission. Without his interference, Brock would have
taken her virginity—she’d have been with a guy she felt impassioned for rather than that jerk
Scott. And who knew how that one single difference could have changed her from that moment
onward?

Of course, it wasn’t as if she’d had a horrible life. But she’d never found another guy she cared
for like Brock. And she’d suffered all this time thinking he really hadn’t wanted her. And
somehow she’d allowed her father to keep on controlling her all this time, too. Sure, she’d had
her fun, done her partying—but hell, even that, when all was said and done, had to do with
Brock’s rejection. At heart, she wasn’t a party girl—all she’d ever really wanted was the right
person to love, and everything else was her way of venting frustration because she couldn’t
find that.

And even if she had managed to be Crazy Kat, even under the watchful eye of her dad, in the
end she’d talked herself into marrying the guy who would make him happy! She’d been doing
it for him, to save his butt financially, to keep him feeling like he’d provided for his family—
despite that it didn’t even make any sense! Damn it!

If her father hadn’t stepped in and changed the course of their lives, would she and Brock have
had sex one time, or even ten times, and then parted ways—or would it have been more, bigger than that? Maybe she could have made him into the man he was today. Maybe she could have
supported him through the loss of his grandfather and helped him change his life. Maybe he
would have fallen in love with her, just as she’d been in love with him.

Brock’s hands cupped her face now as they kissed, and their legs intertwined, his knee
pressing over the swatch of bikini between her thighs. Her body needed him, as much as her
soul did. And just as it had been since the moment he’d arrived here—the aching need inside
her spanned ten long years.

Between kisses, she bit her lip, pressed her forehead to his, and confided her heart. “This is
sort of embarrassing, but I was really crazy about you then, Brock.”

“I know,” he said sweetly, as if trying to make it easy on her.

But he didn’t know. He didn’t know the depth of it. “No, really crazy.” I loved you. “I didn’t
know you that well, so maybe I had this idea in my head of who I thought you were or who I
wanted you to be. But I was really well, just wild about you.”