Unbroken (24 page)

Because he wanted her pleasure more than he wanted his own, even now. Even in this moment.

He entered her slowly, relishing the feel of her. The sound she made when he thrust deep and hard, the little moan of regret when he pulled away.

“Hold on, baby,” he said.

He took his hand from the couch and brushed it between her thighs, over her clit, as he continued to move inside of her.

“Oh, yes,” she said, over and over again, the affirmations keeping time with his movements.

He leaned down and grazed the curve of her exposed neck with his teeth, and he felt her shudder, felt her internal muscles tighten around his shaft.

And then everything in his mind shattered, and he forgot about everything. About what had happened back at Elk Haven. About Davis. About his father and his anger and everything that wasn't what it was like to be buried deep inside Amber Jameson.

She was all that mattered.

This was all that mattered.

He felt her body tense, felt her muscles pulse around him, heard her harsh curse as her orgasm broke over her, and then he let go. His release roared through him like fire through dry brush, consuming everything in its path, leaving him scorched from the inside out.

Leaving him dry and cracked, and on the verge of breaking apart.

He couldn't catch his breath. And he couldn't stand anymore.

He pulled away from her and stumbled back, sinking to the floor, his leg screaming at him, his back protesting everything that had just happened.

Well, who cared. He didn't. Screw pain. It didn't matter.

It had been worth it.

Hell yes. It had been worth it. Even if he couldn't walk for days.

He looked up and saw Amber adjusting her clothes with shaking fingers.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You're the one on the floor,” she said, tugging her shoes off and pushing her skirt back down.

“I guess so,” he said, looking around. He was bare-assed on the floor, his clothes mostly still in place except for his pants, with a condom on. That had to be a good visual for her. He pushed himself back up. “I'll just go to the bathroom for a sec,” he said, heading to the hall bath to get things taken care of.

He cleaned up and washed his hands, then made the mistake of looking in the mirror. What the hell was wrong with him?

Then he decided he didn't care. Not tonight.

Life was one giant pile of messed-up right now, so as far as where he fit into all of it? He'd deal with that concern at a later date. It could take a number.

He walked back out of the bathroom, getting his jeans and everything back in order.

“Sorry,” he said. “About that . . .”

“Nah,” she said, tugging her top on over her head. “Don't apologize for that. It was . . . good.”

“You said that funny. Was it not good?”

“It was good,” she said, her lip wobbling a little bit.

Shit.

“Are you . . . ?”

“I'm fine,” she said, a tear trickling down her cheek.

“Baby,” he said, walking forward and tugging her into his arms. “Amber, did I hurt you?”

“No,” she said, sounding like she was barely clinging to composure, her voice shaky and watery.

“Why are you crying?”

“I don't know,” she said, the sound of her misery increasing with each word.

“Don't lie to me,” he said, pulling back and looking at her. “Dammit, Amber, if I hurt you . . .”

“You didn't. Cade, it was wonderful. So good. And I don't know why I'm c-crying. Maybe that's why. Maybe because it was good.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“I know!” she said, her voice nearly a wail now. “It's just . . . I'm upset, because Davis . . . and your family . . . and my grandpa. And then that was so good. And I haven't had any coffee today so I think maybe I'm crazy.”

“Honey, I don't know what coffee has to do with anything.”

“Of course not! You had some today. I think it's why I'm emotionally unstable. You can't just quit caffeine cold turkey.”

“Fair enough.”

“Bleah.” She shook her head and pulled away from him. “I'm fine.”

“We just had sex, and then you had a breakdown. You might be fine, but I think I'm scarred for life.”

“Sorry. It's not your . . . prowess.”

“That wasn't my concern. I was kind of . . . rough with you, and I . . .”

“A little rough sex isn't going to break me,” she said. “I've been through a lot worse.”

“I don't want to be part of the worse you've been through.”

“That's not what I meant, Cade. I said it . . . wrong, because how the hell do you talk to your best friend about this?”

“I don't know. That's why I'm sort of fumbling around over here.”

“Fair enough. We're both fumbly.”

“Right. As long as I didn't hurt you.”

“Quite the opposite,” she said, running her fingers under her eyes and wiping away the remaining moisture.

“Well . . . good.”

“Are you okay? I'm sorry. Again. I don't have any room to be having an epic breakdown when you're the one discovering there are yet more skeletons in your closet.”

“Not mine,” Cade said. “My dad's.”

“True. But you all kind of inherited his crap. Isn't that how it works?”

“I guess.”

“Not that I'd know. Since I got nothing from my parents at all.”

“This must all seem . . . weird to you. Our giant-ass family drama when . . . Sorry.”

She lifted a shoulder. “No. I get it. And it's just like you said, you know? It doesn't matter what they did. Or didn't do. You love your parents. It's silly that I do. I don't even know my dad, and I'm pissed as hell at him. I never knew him, but . . . there's something in me that . . . if I ever met him . . . if I ever met him and he wanted me, even for a moment, I think I'd just run to him and hug him. I don't know why. I feel . . . embarrassed about that, really. I've never even let myself fully think that before because it sounds so lame, but . . . it's true.”

“It's not lame, Amber.”

“Then you loving your dad isn't lame either.”

“I guess not.” Though, right now, he felt like he could use a shower. He felt unclean. He felt like he'd just taken a walk in his father's shoes in the worst way. In the kind of lust that made you crazy, and made you dishonor people you cared about.

“Way not,” she said. “I need to go lie down. It was a long day.”

“Yeah, okay. I'll meet you upstairs. I need a shower and things. Should I bring you dinner?”

“I don't think I'll eat,” she said. “I just feel weird and off. What I really want is sleep. I have to get up way too early tomorrow.”

“Me too. The bison won't fence themselves.”

“No. That would be far too useful. Bison aren't known for their usefulness.”

“Not when it comes to using tools.”

“Cloven hooves aren't so good with that.”

“Yeah, opposable thumbs are a must. I'll come to bed in a bit,” he said, kissing her cheek.

Cade walked toward the shower in the downstairs bathroom, stripping off his clothes as he went, not waiting for the water to heat up before he stepped under the spray.

He didn't know how to deal with any of this. Honestly, he didn't. Davis, who he had known for years now, from a distance, and who he officially disliked, was his half brother.

His life had turned into a soap opera. It was getting to be worse than a joke.

He heard his cell phone ringing from somewhere on the floor. Probably in his pants. He shut the water off and dried off quickly, digging through his jeans pocket and answering. “Hello?”

“It's Quinn.”

“Great,” Cade said, tightening the towel around his waist. He and Quinn were not at the talking-on-the-phone-naked stage of their relationship. Actually, he was not at that stage of a relationship with any man on earth. “What's up?”

“Besides the general insanity?”

“Yeah, besides that.”

“Sam said it was okay for you to talk to Jake. He wants to arrange a phone call for sometime tomorrow.”

“I'm just out doing fences tomorrow. He can call me on my cell.”

“Great. I gave him the number.” Quinn paused for a second. “You okay?”

“Damn. You don't want me to talk about my feelings, do you?”

Quinn paused again. “I don't want you to, but it seemed appropriate, all things considered.”

“I'm fine. I'm lying, because how the hell am I supposed to deal with . . . that.”

“Look, I know Davis. I don't like him. Apart from all of the things he's been up to around here, I don't like him, and I never have.”

“You didn't like me either.”

“I didn't say I do now.”

“True.”

“I could go either way on you,” Quinn said. “Davis, on the other hand . . . I don't trust him. What's his game? To come here and compete with your ranch? Put you out of business? What?”

“Do you think he's lying about our dad?”

“I don't know why he'd lie. It isn't like y'all are rich, apart from the ranch. And with so many of you, it's not like it's worth much to go in fifths on the inheritance. So I actually believe all that. But beyond that, I don't trust him.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

“Or don't. I'm just putting it out there.”

“No, I will.”

“Good. Okay. You're good though?”

“I'm not about to lie down in front of a tractor. Anyway, Amber's here.”

“Yeah.”

The way his brother-in-law said that made Cade feel like the bastard had some alternate insight into what was happening with Amber and himself. Which he didn't like at all, because he sure as hell didn't have extra insight into what was happening with Amber and himself.

Except that there was some kind of engagement farce happening, and they were really sleeping together. And beyond that? He had a feeling the people they were really fooling were themselves.

“Yeah,” Cade said in response. It was all he had.

Then he hung up. Things seemed to be getting slightly less awkward with Quinn, so there was that.

He tugged his jeans on, not even bothering with underwear, then stalked to the fridge on a beer hunt. He found one and went into the living room, sitting on the couch he'd just bent Amber over.

His reprieve of good feelings was over. He had nothing left to do but sit here and drown in regret and alcohol. So that was what he was going to do.

Nineteen

The inside of her mouth tasted like a gym shoe.

That was Amber's first thought when she opened her eyes in the morning. Her second thought was that she was so tired, she felt drugged.

And her third thought was that the room was spinning. Which tied in nicely with thought number two.

She curled her blankets more tightly around her and rolled slowly out of the bed, trying to land softly, but not entirely upright.

Then she noticed Cade wasn't in bed. But that wasn't too unusual, since he was often downstairs fixing breakfast.

She didn't think he was though. For some reason, the bed had a half-slept-in feeling. Like only she'd been in it all night. He certainly hadn't woken her. Of course, feeling like she did now, she was pretty sure she'd fallen straight to sleep when she'd gone to bed at six and not budged once after.

Because she felt like day-old garbage. And her tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth.

She heard footsteps and looked across the bedroom, her line of sight connecting with Cade's boots in the doorway.

“Good morning,” he said, not even a hint of questioning in his voice.

“Hi,” she said, tugging her sheet down so she could get a better look at him from her spot on the floor.

“Are you okay?”

“I feel gross.”

“Get back in bed,” he said.

“No. I have to work.”

“You did a tuck and roll out of bed. And you look like a caterpillar. You're not going to work.” He walked over to where she was and picked her up, blankets and all, and deposited her back on the mattress. “Call in sick.”

“Cade, I can't—”

“If you say you can't afford it, I'm going to tickle you.”

“No! I'm weak and ill.”

“Then don't say it. And stay home. And stay in bed.”

“Cade, I cannnn't.”

“You're really whiny this morning. Are you going to serve customers with that attitude? And anyway, no one wants a sick waitress. You'll infect their eggs.”

“Cade . . .”

He took her cell phone from her nightstand and put it in her hand. “Call in sick. Imagine turning back over and burrowing back under the covers. Doesn't that sound nice?”

“Yes,” she mumbled.

“Good. Do it. Everyone will survive without you.”

“They will not. The café will crumble.” But she was already dialing, and within five minutes had herself off the hook. And she was already drifting back to sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, the sun was high in the sky and her room was too warm for all the blankets she was still wrapped in.

She looked at the clock and nearly fell out of bed.

It was almost two p.m.

Was she sick or was she dying? Good lord, she hadn't slept this late since she was sixteen.

She stood up fast and stumbled, her knees knocking in like a newborn colt's. Jeez. She felt hungover. And she was most definitely not hungover.

She moved into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, down to her neck, trying to cool off. She felt overheated, but she didn't feel nauseous anymore.

She grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste and started trying to deal with the shoe flavor that still lingered on her tongue. Then she smacked her lips and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like death. Like pale, vacant death.

Her eyes were flat, her cheeks gray, and her hair was hanging limp. She wrinkled her nose. Normally, she wouldn't have cared about Cade seeing her like this. After all, they'd seen each other vomit after a hard drinking night back in the day. Frequently.

But this was different. It was all different now. He was her lover, and she wanted him to see her being sexy. Not this.

Weird. Because it seemed like adding a naked element to their relationship should have demolished barriers, not erected new ones. But now she cared what she looked like for him. Hmm. An inconvenient and silly development.

She bent down and started to rummage through the bottom drawer for some floss, pushing a box of tampons out of the way. Then she froze.

Was she really that stupid? Or just that distracted? Either way . . . she hadn't had a period since before Lark's wedding.

That was going on five weeks.

And as much as she'd tried not to think about it, her first time with Cade had been sans contraception.

She'd been so deep in her denial about that, as had he, obviously, that neither of them had even spoken about it. She'd barely even allowed herself to think it.

But now, staring down at the tampon box she hadn't needed for far too long, she knew she was at the end of her denial rope. And suddenly, she had to know now.

She had to know, this very instant, if she was carrying Cade's baby.

Oh . . . holy shit. A baby. Her best friend's baby. Both of them were like the poster children for Screwed the Hell Up. How were they supposed to raise a baby? A hypothetical baby, since all it was right now was a missed period.

She couldn't just go to the store and buy a test. It would make it through town faster than a brush fire in August.

And that meant she had to trust someone. Dammit. That was the thing she was least good at. Except Cade. She trusted Cade. But not to do this.

She could call Lark. But then people would think Lark was expecting. And that would suck for her.

Amber tapped her fingers on her chin, almost grateful for this added conundrum, since it gave her an excuse to focus on the surface issue of procuring a pregnancy test, rather than actually focusing on the potential-pregnancy panic.

And then it hit her. There was no one better to send on this mission than an obviously pregnant woman.

She walked back into the bedroom and picked up her cell phone, poking her head out the bedroom door just to make sure Cade wasn't around before closing it, locking it and scurrying into the bathroom.

She dialed Kelsey's cell phone number.

“Hello?” she heard Kelsey say.

“Hi. Kelsey, it's Amber.”

“Yeah. I know. Maddy, stop it!”

“Is this a bad time?”

“I'm in a grocery store with a two-year-old.”

“Oh. Yeah. Well, can you get something for me while you're there and please don't tell anyone it's for me? And please don't tell Cade. And please don't tell Cole. Or Lark.”

“Uh . . . if you ask me for bleach and garbage bags I'm going to get concerned.”

“Prepare to get more concerned. I need a pregnancy test.”

“What?”

“I need a pregnancy test. But I can't go buy one. Because then everyone will know.”

“But you two are getting married.”

“No, we aren't.”

“What?”

“We're not really together.”

“But . . . you're pregnant,” Kelsey hissed.

“No. I might be.”

“You just said you weren't really together. Maddy, don't pull on Mommy!”

“Well, we slept together. Many times. Are currently sleeping together . . . a lot.”

“Then what the hel-ck . . . Do you mean you aren't together?”

“We're friends with . . . orgasmic benefits. Do not judge me. You have no idea how hard up I was. And there was so much alcohol . . . though, we didn't do it that night. We did it the next day. But—”

“Wait. Stop. You're just friends.”

“Yes.”

“And you're sleeping together.”

“Yes,” Amber said.

“And he lives with you.”

“Yeah.”

“And he's starting a bison ranch on your grandfather's property.”

“Well . . . yeah.”

“Do you share a bed? And not just for s-e-x?”

Amber bit her lip. “Yes.”

“What part of that is not being in a relationship?”

“We are not in love.”

“Really?” Kelsey asked.

“Yes! Really!”

“Honey, I think you've been in love with him since the moment I met you. And I'd bet since long before that.”

Amber ignored the sharp, punched-in-the-chest feeling that Kelsey's words brought on. “Am not. We're friends.”

“Bull pucky.”

“I just need a pregnancy test. Not commentary.”

“I'm already pregnant,” Kelsey said. “What will everyone think?”

“That you're buying the test for someone who doesn't want everyone to know they're buying a test. But at least they won't attribute it to the correct person.”

“I'll be ten minutes.”

“Okay.”

Amber hung up the phone and paced until Kelsey's truck rolled into the driveway. She opened the door and held out her hand until Kelsey appeared with a bag in one hand and Maddy on her hip.

“Gimme.”

Kelsey pulled the bag back against her chest. “I'm staying for this.”

“No.”

“I'm going to be an aunt. Potentially. I'm staying for this.”

“What if Cade comes back?”

“I'll tell him we're having coffee. Anyway, you're going to have to tell him about this.”

“No,” Amber said, shaking her head. “There is no reason for me to have to tell him that my period was late. None at all. Because it's probably stress. Or something.”

She was lying. To Kelsey. To herself. But whatever. Until the pink lines appeared, she was doing denial.

“Come in though,” she growled, holding the door for Kelsey, who breezed inside and set the test on the kitchen table.

“If it's positive, what will you do?” Kelsey asked.

“I don't know what we'll do. I . . . I don't know. It wasn't supposed to be this way.”

“What way was it supposed to be, Amber?” Kelsey asked, her expression compassionate. So compassionate it made her heart hurt. Dammit.

“We were supposed to go on like we always had,” she said. “We're supposed to just sort of . . . make life easier for each other. Not harder. Not this.”

“That's the thing though. It can't go on the way it always has, because that's not how life is.”

“I don't want to hear that.”

“Hey,” Kelsey said, “I'm sort of the queen of dealing with the unexpected. Remember, I got pregnant with the wrong man's baby due to the shoddy record keeping of a fertility clinic. I mean . . . how do you mix up sperm?”

“It all kind of looks the same. And that's beside the point. I wanted things to stay the same. I was happy. And now I'm . . . scared. And I don't have anyone to talk to about it. Because Cade is the person I talk to. He's my go-to, and I wanted him to be the one I called in for this. But I can't. I mean . . . this morning I was worried about him seeing me looking like crap because now there's this other stuff between us, and I hate it.”

“You'll get over that,” Kelsey said. “Trust me. That's what happens in marriage.”

“But we aren't getting married. We aren't in love. We . . . we're friends, and we can't even talk to each other about the thing that's currently scaring the heck out of me.”

“Go and take the test,” Kelsey said. “And then you'll know whether or not you can share this with him. Because if it's positive . . . well, then you have to. And if it
is
positive, remember, he's your best friend. And it could be worse. You could be doing it with a stranger. Trust me.”

“But things worked out fine for you,” Amber said.

“Yeah, even with the weirdest circumstances. So how could things not work out fine for you?”

Amber nodded slowly, picked up the plastic bag and headed toward the bathroom. It was weird. There was a time in her life when all of her possessions had been kept in a grocery bag like this one.

And now, the answer to what her future would be was contained in one.

There was a sad bit of poetry to that.

She bit her lip and headed into the bathroom. No more wondering. In just a few minutes, she would know for sure.

*   *   *

Cade stopped working and leaned up against the fence post,
putting his phone up to his ear. “Cade Mitchell.”

“Hi, Mr. Mitchell.”

“Jake,” Cade said. “Good to hear from you.”

“I'm here too.” Another voice on the line. Deeper. Gruffer. Sam, Quinn's friend and Jake's dad, Cade was sure. He'd already heard a basic confession from Jake, last year when he'd cleared Quinn's name, but at the time, none of the details he'd given had meant anything to Cade. He wondered if it would be different now.

“Great. I'm just here to listen,” said Cade. “Whatever you know, Jake. Whatever you remember . . . I would be grateful for the information. No pressure.” It was just Cade feeling like he was on the cusp of vindication and potential emotional healing. No pressure at all.

“I don't have a lot to say. I just talked to the guy that one time. But my dad had me look at a lineup of guys the other day. He pulled up pictures of everyone he could remember riding with. And I did recognize someone. It wasn't the guy who asked me to . . . to do it. But it was his buddy. And I'm pretty sure . . . I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if they were in it together, but I don't know that.”