Lori Foster (18 page)

“Jesus.” Rowdy slowed the car. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She hadn’t quite expected that reaction. “What?”

“It’s a damned castle.”

She looked at the Tudor-style house again. She supposed the stone turrets and expansive arches did bring to mind a castle, only this house had all the modern conveniences and then some. “I told you Meyer was well-to-do.” But honestly, she didn’t think about it. She’d come from that background, so to her, it was just a nice house. Again, the differences in their lives filled her with remorse for what Rowdy had never known. “It’s not a big deal.”

He pulled up to the curb, then just sat there, staring at the house.

“You can pull into the driveway.”

“No, I don’t think I can. Not in this trap.”

“Rowdy.” For her, a car was a car was a car. Sure, what he drove had seen better days, but it got him where he wanted to go and that’s what counted. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It leaks oil. And there’s not so much as a dry leaf on that damned driveway.”

“Oh.” Trying for some errant cheer, Avery said, “So we’ll have a nice brisk walk up to the house.” She slipped on her jacket. “Let’s go.” Now that they’d arrived, she was anxious to see her mother.

Face set in stone, Rowdy put the old Ford in Park and turned off the engine. He pocketed the keys and opened the door to step out. As he stood there looking toward the grounds of Meyer’s home, a gust of wind played with his hair and plastered the black T-shirt to his back.

Beneath the soft cotton, Avery could make out the outline of his bandages. Leaning toward the driver’s side, she asked, “Your back is still okay?”

With an effort he pulled his gaze from the house. “What? Yeah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He sounded cross. She’d have to remember to stop fussing so much.

Shrugging into his flannel, Rowdy said, “Why do I have the sudden suspicion we might be underdressed?”

“They’re not that hoity-toity, I promise.” Stepping out, she pulled her jacket close around her. “Wow, that wind is cold.”

Rowdy moved around the car to her and put his arm over her shoulders. He took in the expanse of the home with brooding displeasure. “Might as well get this over with.”

Was he really dreading it so much? Because it meant nothing to her, she hadn’t even considered how it might make him feel to have wealth thrown in his face. His reaction showed her insensitivity.

She wasn’t better than other women, not if she ended up making him uncomfortable, forcing him into unfamiliar situations.

Drawing him to a stop, she looked up at him. “We don’t have to go in.”

One eyebrow lifted. “You want to hang outside in this cold?”

“No, I mean we can just turn around and go back.” With a hand gripping each side of his open flannel, she leaned into him. His hands automatically went to her waist. “Meyer will understand if I say I need to reschedule. I can come back later, tomorrow maybe—”

“I don’t think so.” Rowdy bent to nip her bottom lip, then slowly soothed it with his warm tongue. “Tomorrow you will be naked, open and under me.”

Her stomach took an excited tumble over those suggestive and descriptive words. “That sounds perfect, but I could come—”

“Several times.” He closed his mouth over hers, his tongue just barely teasing her lips, slipping inside to touch her tongue then retreating again. “Guaranteed.”

She had difficulty thinking when he did things like that. “Come
here,
in the morning, or early evening, and we could still spend the majority of the day together.”

“You’re not listening, babe. Tomorrow, all day, you’re mine.” He slid a hand down her back to her behind. “It’s going to take every available hour for me to get my fill.”

Would it really be that simple for him? Once they had sex, however many times in one day, would he
have his fill
and be done with her?

Probably, yes, and the reality of it saddened her, but she wouldn’t saddle him with her effusive emotions. He’d been honest with her all along; she knew their relationship would be very short-lived, and she knew what he wanted from her—sex.

Somehow, when things ended, as she knew they would, she’d just find a way to deal with it. “All right, then. If you’re sure you want to stay, we may as well go on in instead of giving the neighbors a show.”

His narrowed gaze abruptly scanned the area, and he smirked. “The houses are all so far apart, I seriously doubt anyone can see us.” He did release her, though, taking her hand instead and starting them up the drive.

Smiling, Avery let him tug her along. She liked the way his large hand engulfed hers, how his long, strong legs covered so much ground so easily.

The way his worn jeans hugged that sexy backside of his.

The man was totally put together, and tonight she’d get to explore him—naked—head to toe. Regardless of what he said, she’d show care for his back. But there were all sorts of creative positions they could use.

She wanted to try them all.

At the top of the driveway, surrounded by manicured landscaping, Rowdy stopped and stared at the silver BMW parked there. Avery went cold from the inside out. She knew that damned car and—

“Well, hello, you two.”

Eyes flaring, she twisted to face the front entryway...and there stood Fisher Holloway. Residual fear tried to emerge, but she fought it back. Today, now, she had nothing to fear.

She had Rowdy Yates with her.

That meant she had the upper hand.

She’d spent a very long time gaining her independence, building up walls against the hurt and putting the past behind her.

No way in hell would she let her uncertainty show. Not to this man.

She narrowed her eyes, and with venomous sarcasm said, “Fisher. What a surprise to see you here.”

* * *

R
OWDY
NO
LONGER
had the urge to leave. Hell, no. He wanted to stay, and he wanted to get answers.

Like for starters, why was the very car that had been following them parked front and center in her stepfather’s driveway? Had Meyer lied? Had he been tailing them? And if so, why?

When Rowdy turned to see who had welcomed them, he gave thanks to Mother Nature for the physical gift of his height and bulk. The clown smiling at Avery like a long-lost lover wasn’t a slouch. In fact, he looked like a damned linebacker and stood right at six feet.

But Rowdy was bigger and taller, and that gave him the advantage of smiling down on the other man.

No jeans for this bozo. No, he wore creased charcoal slacks and leather shoes and some designer-style polo. Rowdy spotted a chunky gold ring on his hand and a gold chain around his neck.

He fought to keep his lip from curling.

Avery scooted closer, and that one small telltale gesture, more than anything else, sharpened his senses.

The other dude stopped smiling at Avery long enough to come down the walkway and extend his hand.

“Hello. You must be Avery’s...
friend
who Meyer told us about.”

Rowdy took the hand, amused when the man tried to tighten his grip. “Rowdy Yates. Avery works for me.” He squeezed back, and Fisher’s smile slipped.

“Fisher Holloway,” he said around a near grimace. “I’m a close family friend and a business associate.”

Rowdy let him off the hook, releasing his hand and nodding toward the silver BMW. “Is that your car?”

Fisher shoved his hands in his pockets. “One of them, yes. She’s about ready for a trade-in, though. Why, you looking for a new ride?”

“No, and I couldn’t afford that anyway. It’s nice.”

Fisher bent his knees and laughed. “And what? You can’t afford nice?”

“Not that kind of nice, no.”

Avery suddenly shoved herself in front of him. The move was so absurd—her stance so obviously protective—that it left Rowdy chagrined.

“That’s not what he meant, Fisher, and you know it.”

Such a snarling tone from Avery. On his behalf? Had he misunderstood her nervousness?

“No offense intended, honey.” Fisher smiled at Rowdy in a knowing, man-to-man way. “I was just jesting.”

Locking his jaw, Rowdy took Avery’s upper arms, lifted her and physically set her to his side. “It was accurate all the same. I can’t afford a car like that.” Where the hell did this guy get off calling Avery “honey”? Did they have a past?

Was it even
in
the past?

Still riled, Avery said, “Rowdy owns his own business and he’s putting all his assets into that.”

Assets? What assets? If he sold everything he owned, he still wouldn’t be able to afford that car.

“A bar, right?” Fisher shared a smug smile. “Meyer said it was really...quaint.”

“Then he was trying to be polite.” Rowdy took Avery’s hand in a bid to control her absurdly defensive tendencies. “I’m sure you’ve never been there, have you, Fisher?”

“Afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”

Bullshit. He’d scoped out the place, so why lie about it? “You sure? Could’ve sworn I saw that exact car just recently.”

Avery didn’t hear the accusation, but Fisher got it loud and clear. “I doubt mine is the only silver BMW on the road.”

No, but it was the only one with those exact plates. Rowdy shrugged. “A car like that stands out in my neighborhood.”

“Hmm. In my neighborhood, it’s not that different from every other car.”

Score one for the dirtbag. Rowdy let it go before Avery did catch on. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin her reunion with her mom. “Should we go in? I know Avery is anxious to see her mother.”

“And vice versa,” Fisher said. He gestured for them to precede him. “I told Meyer I would bring you both in. They have a light lunch set up in the sunroom.”

What the hell was a sunroom? As Rowdy stepped past Fisher, his skin prickled with warning. He didn’t like having the guy at his back. His instincts were rarely wrong, but this time, he knew the uneasiness could have been from...

Jealousy.

Dark, ugly,
mean
jealousy.

From the second Fisher had smiled at Avery with warm familiarity, Rowdy had wanted to mangle him.

Either Fisher didn’t realize his peril, or he was confident enough to discount it, because he moved to Avery’s other side and, walking too close to her, said in intimate undertones, “It’s good to see you again, Ave.”

Ave?
What kind of nickname was that?

Avery’s hand tightened on Rowdy’s and her voice went a little shrill. “Why are you even here, Fisher?”

“Meyer invited me. And of course I agreed. I’ve missed you.”

What, was he invisible? Rowdy didn’t mind being ignored, but not so Fisher could attempt to move in.

“Is that how you tell it?” Avery asked.

“When it comes to you, Ave, I always tell the truth.”

She growled something incoherent.

Rowdy had no idea what all those nuanced comments meant, but they were being slung around so freely, he felt bludgeoned by them. For certain, Avery and Fisher had a history.

Did that history include sex?

Or worse,
love?

Maybe that’s why Fisher had been hanging around, covertly checking up on her. In his shoes, Rowdy might have done the same. If she left this area to go slumming in his, only a moron wouldn’t have been concerned. And Fisher might be a dirtbag, but he probably wasn’t stupid. He’d understand the trouble that would come Avery’s way.

Trouble like...Rowdy Yates.

“While you’re here,” Fisher murmured, “I’d love for us to have a chance to talk. Privately.”

Fuck that.

Rowdy was ready to speak up when Avery said, “No.”

Good. So she wasn’t keen on a private chat, either. Suited Rowdy just fine.

Before stepping through the open front doors, he brought Avery around in front of him, which effectively put Fisher at his back again. If he had to bodily keep them separated, he would.

The role of jealous
boyfriend
was about as comfortable as a cactus seat, but he didn’t give a damn.

“I’ve been a close confidant to Meyer and Sonya,” Fisher said. “I’ve comforted them while you were away.”

Avery trembled. With anger? Upset?

As they stepped into a massive foyer, Rowdy looked around and badly wanted to leave—with Avery thrown over his shoulder, if necessary.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I
T
LOOKED
LIKE
wealth had thrown up costly shit everywhere.

“Nice place.” Rowdy tried to cover his awe, but what the hell? The entry alone was big enough to be a hotel.

“The sunroom is this way,” Avery said. Gripping Rowdy’s hand, she charged through the house at a fast-paced trot, showing no regard for the museum-like pieces inside.

Fleeing Fisher or anxious to see her mom?

Being around Avery in this setting left his perception blown, making it difficult to sort out overriding emotions, but he voted for the first.

Since her mother had remarried, he knew Avery hadn’t grown up here. But was this home much different from what she was used to? She sure seemed to take it in stride, going right past a sweeping staircase, columns and chandeliers, marble and cut glass and...all kinds of fancy crap.

Finally they entered an octagonal room at the back of the house. Walls of sparkling windows rose up to meet the twelve-foot vaulted ceiling. The view of a park-like backyard filled with massive trees drew his gaze to a fancy pool that looked like part of nature.

Rowdy was so enthralled with what he saw that he almost missed the petite woman who quickly rose from her seat.

His gaze locked on Avery’s mother.

Something a little sick and a lot needy twisted inside him when the woman rushed over and grabbed Avery up tight. She was petite like Avery, feminine in a clingy sweater dress and low-heeled shoes. Her features were like Avery’s, but instead of the rich red hair of her daughter, the mother had very fair hair half-hidden by a silk scarf. She was probably kicking sixty, but still looked soft and elegant and trim.

Easy to see where Avery got her good looks and that killer little body.

Rowdy felt like a lummox just standing there, an interloper without the right to smile as Meyer and Fisher both did.

Stepping back, he tried to remove himself a little from the personal scene.

Tears hung from the mother’s lashes, but she cupped Avery’s face and laughed. “I have missed you so much.”

Avery pressed in close for another hug. Arms entwined, heads together, both rocking gently side to side.

It was something to see. Really nice.

How a mother and her child should be, not that he had any firsthand knowledge on that.

Rowdy shoved his hands into his back pockets and willed himself to look away.

He couldn’t do it.

The women didn’t just embrace, they squeezed. Tight. So much sentiment filled the air he almost choked on it. He couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe.

Then suddenly Avery was free and back at his side, leaning on his shoulder in that familiar way, hugging one of his arms. Smiling, her own eyes red, she sniffled and said, “Rowdy, this is my mother, Sonya. Mom, this is Rowdy, my boss.”

Sonya’s smile faded. “I’m not sure that’s the proper
hold
for a mere boss, dear.”

Rowdy felt like a damned spectacle. He looked past Sonya to where Meyer and Fisher stood aligned, ripe with animosity, bunched up with caution.

Then Sonya extended her tiny, delicate hand. “Rowdy, thank you for bringing my daughter home.”

And it was a home, Rowdy realized. A home of love and protectiveness and all the wonderful things that home should mean. All the things Avery deserved.

Why had she left?

And what the hell was
he
doing here?

Sonya’s hand was so small. He held it gently. “She brought herself, ma’am. I’m only along for the ride.”

“Will you join us for lunch?” She indicated a table set with more dishes than he’d ever seen.

“Thank you.” He saw fruit, tiny sandwiches, pickles and some type of fancy chips on the table.

Fisher pulled out a chair. “Ave, here’s your seat.”

She gave him a dirty look and stayed glued to Rowdy’s side. With an arm around her, he ushered her forward and pulled out a chair, but Sonya said, “Thank you, Rowdy,” and seated herself.

She patted the chair next to her. “Please. I’d love to talk with you more.” She twisted around. “And, Avery, I want you on my other side. We have so much catching up to do.”

Well, hell. He’d just been outmaneuvered by Sonya, Rowdy realized as he watched Fisher take the seat beside Avery, leaving him caught between Sonya and Meyer.

Talk about uncomfortable... He tugged at his ear but said nothing as he took his seat.

The minimal food—light lunch—was served, and then Sonya and Avery started a quiet, private conversation. From what Rowdy could hear, they were at odds about something. Not an outright argument, but definitely some displeasure.

A second later, Sonya said, “Please don’t wait for us,” and she and Avery left the table.

Rowdy watched them step away to a set of windows on the other side of the room, where they both gestured and whispered and occasionally embraced again.

“So, Rowdy.” Fisher cut a goddamned strawberry like he would a steak.

He defiantly bit one of the little sandwiches in half. “What?”

“Did Ave tell you why she’s been away?”

As if on cue, Meyer said, “Excuse me.” And he, too, left the table.

Alone with Fisher. Interesting. Rowdy had the distinct feeling he’d been set up in a big way.

“She didn’t go into details,” Rowdy told him.

“What did she tell you about me?”

“She didn’t.” Choke on that, you pompous ass. “In fact, she’s never mentioned you at all.” Which made Rowdy damned curious, given Fisher appeared to be a very accepted part of the family.

Fisher looked across the room at Avery, his gaze filled with tenderness. “We had a falling-out. When I wanted her to marry me and settle down, she said I was too controlling.”

Rowdy glanced at Avery. Her face stricken with worry, she held one of her mother’s hands and with the other she straightened the scarf. Her mother seemed to reassure her.

He remembered her talking about regrets, saying her folks had wanted her to marry. Obviously they approved of Fisher as the chosen one or he wouldn’t be here right now.

Rowdy said, “Win some, lose some, Fish.” See, he could do shortened names, too.

“I still love her,” Fisher said, all pretense at good manners long gone. “I want her back.”

Furious as it made him, Rowdy didn’t know if Fisher would have any luck with that or not. But he did know one thing. “It won’t be happening today, so I suggest you step back.”

Feigning amusement, Fisher gave a smarmy grin. “You think you have a chance, is that it?”

A chance to get his fill, yes. Beyond that? He was honest enough with himself to know the odds weren’t in his favor. That didn’t mean Avery would fall for an ass like Fisher. She was far too genuine, too sincere and
real
to fall for a guy in a gold chain.

“I know she came here with me, and she’s leaving with me. For now, that’s enough.” What a lie. It wasn’t even close to enough.

“I don’t know about that. As I told Avery, I’ve remained close with the family. I’ve consoled them in their grief over her behavior, her...abandonment. But she’s here now, and if her mother asks her to stay...” He left the words to hang in the air, the possibilities unspoken.

Shit. Rowdy hadn’t even thought of that. He glanced at Avery again and saw that both women were now smiling. They could be wrapping up that little chat real soon, so he might as well get it said. “I recognize the license plate, Fish. You’ve been hanging around, spying on her.”

For only a moment, Fisher looked surprised before he shrugged. “Watching over her, actually.”

Rowdy didn’t debate that possibility, because damn it, it made sense.

“Ave is not cut out for the seedy side of life. She’s rebellious right now, proving...something to her folks.” Fisher forked another strawberry with far too much precision. “When her father died, it devastated her. And then Sonya remarried, adding more changes to their lives, and Avery hasn’t been the same since.”

“How so?”

Fisher grinned. “Moving out. Working in a low-class bar.” He pointed the forked strawberry at Rowdy. “Bringing you home to flaunt her rebellion under their noses.”

Was that why Avery had wanted him along? He sure as hell couldn’t think of any other reason.

“I’m sorry,” Sonya said as she rejoined them at the table. Both Rowdy and Fisher stood, but it was Meyer who returned in time to hold her chair.

To Rowdy, Sonya said, “I’ve been away from Avery for some time and we had some catching up to do. I hope you’ll forgive the rudeness.”

Rowdy looked past her to Avery, who was far too solemn. “I understand.” It damn near killed him, but Rowdy said, “If you need the day off, Avery, we can work it out.”

“No.” She cut her tiny sandwich into two tinier pieces. “No, it’s fine. Mom and I already worked that out, and I promised to come back soon to visit again.”

“But if you change your mind...” Sonya offered tentatively.

“Sorry, Mom, but I can’t. I’ll visit often, but Rowdy needs me there during work hours. Since he’s taken over the bar, the crowd has quadrupled.”

Meyer asked, “What time does the bar open today?”

Rowdy had a mouthful, damn it. He swallowed down the food and used the snow-white linen napkin on his mouth. “We open at three-thirty. The kitchen closes at eleven, last call is at one and we close up the bar at two. That’s six days a week, but we’re closed on Sunday.”

Fisher sat back in his seat. “I understand the establishment used to be a hot spot to barter drugs and traffic women.”

“Yeah?” Rowdy wasn’t sure how much Avery wanted her mother and stepfather to know. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Relax, Rowdy,” Meyer said. “No one is trying to accuse you.”

Tag team, huh? He tipped his head and stared at Fisher long enough to let the worm know what he thought of him. “I’m plenty relaxed.”

Sonya touched his forearm. “You’re sitting like a nun in church.”

He couldn’t rest back in his seat, not with his stitches, and he knew just enough not to prop his elbows on the table.

“Rowdy is always relaxed and confident and comfortable.” Avery leaned forward to see around her mother. “He was injured in a fight so he can’t rest back,” she said with a glare at Fisher. “And no one would have any reason to accuse Rowdy of anything.”

Grinning, Fisher held up his hands. “Isn’t that what we just said?”

“Injured how?” Sonya wanted to know.

Looked like he wouldn’t be eating anything more. Rowdy pushed back his plate. “It’s nothing.”

“He got cut with a big knife.”

Shit. Rowdy wondered what Sonya would think if he stuffed one of the fancy cloth napkins in Avery’s mouth.

Hand to her throat, Sonya stared at him. “A knife fight?”

“It wasn’t that dramatic, and it wasn’t that much of a fight.”

“Did this happen at the bar?” Meyer demanded to know.

Rowdy shook his head. “It happened outside the bar—”

“Only because Rowdy took it outside,” Avery said. “And even after he got cut, he still kicked their butts.”

“Good Lord,” Sonya said.

“He was defending a little boy!”

“You let kids in the bar?” Fisher asked.

Bombarded by their accusing stares and Avery’s enthusiastic retelling of things, Rowdy felt his strain amplify. “No.” If Avery wanted to air it all, then by God, he’d do some airing. “As you said, the bar had previously been used for trading drugs, and yeah, there was a link to human trafficking that got shut down.”

Sonya looked ready to faint.

With relish, Avery said, “It was pretty bad there before Rowdy cleaned it up.”

Her mother jerked around. “You worked there when that was going on?”

She shrugged. “I was a waitress, yeah.”

Egging them on? Rowdy had no idea what Avery was up to, but he didn’t like it. “I bought the place, Avery stayed on and for the most part we kicked out the—”
assholes
“—criminal element.”

“But guys showed up wanting to finish a deal they’d made with the previous owner,” Avery explained. “One of the buffoons brought his son along.”

Sonya and Meyer shared a horrified glance. Fisher barely kept his satisfaction to himself.

“Thanks to Rowdy,” Avery said with glee, “the man is in jail now, and the little boy is staying with one of Rowdy’s friends, who just happens to be a detective.”

Sonya swallowed audibly. “You mentioned a knife fight?”

Rowdy opened his mouth—but Avery beat him to the punch.

“The guy Rowdy pulverized had a cohort. That guy pulled a knife. Even after he cut Rowdy, though, Rowdy still took him apart.”

Great. Way to be discreet, Avery.
Rowdy scratched his chin, waiting for the inevitable questions.

Fisher got things started. “So do you do a lot of street fighting?”

“I avoid it when I can.” Not entirely true, since he sometimes took great relish in pounding on the right people. “Sometimes I can’t.”

“Because of where you live and work?”

He shrugged. “Probably.”

Avery gasped. “That’s not true. It’s because he defends people when necessary.” Here she glared at Fisher. “Often when no one else will step up to do it.”

Sonya shifted uncomfortably; Fisher narrowed his eyes. Meyer made a sound of disgust.

“And when those occasions arise, you’re...equipped to handle it?” Meyer wanted to know.

“I can hold my own.”

“He’s incredible,” Avery countered. “Very fast and strong. I was amazed at how good he is.”

Meyer threw down his napkin. “You were
there?
”

“Watching through a window, yes, since Rowdy insisted that I stay inside.”

“Thank God for small favors,” Fisher muttered.

“Oh, Avery,” her mother whispered. “I don’t want you to go back there.”

Great, Rowdy thought. If Avery kept it up, they’d tie her down before letting her leave with him.

“It was a little scary,” Avery admitted, “especially when the guy sliced up Rowdy’s back.”

Sliced up? It was one damn cut. Rowdy picked up his tea. “I don’t think you need to embellish things, honey.”

“I’m not! You know you handled them both with ease. Those thugs didn’t stand a chance.”