Mending Fences (23 page)

Curran was channel-surfing again when she entered the great room and sat beside him on the couch. He shifted, draped his arm around her and hugged her, kissing her on the temple.

She snuggled into his side, watching the channels flick by. Something was clearly eating at him, and she had a feeling it was more than the tabloid photos.

Victoria tilted her head up and kissed his throat. His body tensed, his heart shuddered under her palm. Hmm, maybe she could distract him a little from whatever was on his mind, and get the kiss she’d been craving for what felt like forever.

He stilled, his breath shortening as she tasted the slight saltiness of his skin. She straightened her back, pushing herself higher against him. Her own pulse speeding, she flicked her tongue along his earlobe, then down into the hollow below.

A growl sounded in his throat and he grasped her shoulders, setting her apart from him. With a quiet curse, he stood.

She frantically tried to align her thoughts in confusion. What had she done to upset him? She rose beside him. “Curran?”

He turned to her, the unmistakable glow of desire in his eyes. “I’m going home, Victoria.”

Her hands trembled, and she tucked them into her pockets. “Why?”

“Because the only thing I want to do tonight is make love to you and fall asleep with you.”

Her heart ached, and for a moment, she lost sight of why that would be such a bad thing. It would be so easy to fall into his arms. And hate herself in the morning, and be sick wondering if the past had repeated itself. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes squeezed shut and he drew a deep ragged breath. “Believe me, so am I.” Finally, he looked at her again. “I can abide by your rules, but my strength only holds out so long. I’ll kiss you when I feel like I can handle it. Otherwise, don’t tempt me.”

Curran feathered his fingers into her hair, kissed her on the forehead and said goodnight.

Victoria sat on the couch for a long time afterward, searching her soul. She could tell herself it would be different this time. Perhaps protection would never fail her again, and making love with him might bring nothing but joy.

And if it did fail? The idea of maybe having a child with him wasn’t entirely terrifying. God knew he could and would support his offspring. But where would that leave her? He wanted her, yes, and he enjoyed her company, but he wasn’t in love with her, let alone formally committed to her.

The most frightening thing of all was realizing that she loved him. She loved him heart and soul, in a way she’d never dared feel for anyone.

If they broke up again, loving him meant she’d find herself on an entirely new level of Hell. Losing him, after discovering what it was like to become one with him, would surely kill her.

Chapter Twelve

“Ah, the sweet smell of rural life.”

Curran leaned against the manure fork and wiped his forehead on his sweatshirt sleeve, then glared at Jamie, who stood in the doorway of Sparkler’s stall. “When did you get here, mate?”

“A few minutes ago. Kelli wasn’t home.”

“I didn’t know you were coming up this weekend.”

Jamie scratched his head. “Neither did I. But I ended up with a pretty slow schedule today, and I got a great last minute fare, so here I am.”

“Good. Grab the other fork out there and get to work. I’ve three more stalls to do. Make yourself useful.”

Jamie snorted and suggested another physically uncomfortable place to put the fork.

“Care to try that, mate?” Curran lifted another soiled clump of straw and swung it into the wheelbarrow.

“Hey, I got my fill of ranch stuff every summer at my uncle’s place. I’ve shoveled a lifetime quota of manure, not to mention the kind I put up with on your behalf.”

“Wuss.”

Jamie called him a vile name, but Curran laughed when his friend stomped over to the tack room. “You got my boots out here? Oh, never mind, I found ’em.”

Jamie went to work on the next stall. Curran called over the wall to him. “Thanks. It’s nice out now, but those horses aren’t going to be happy if they have to stay out in the corral when the sun goes down.”

“Yeah, yeah. You owe me a beer.”

“I’ll buy you a case. Put your back into it.”

They turned the last horse into its clean, food-stocked stall as the sky grew orange and pink. Curran opened the second corral, calling to Peg-leg. The beast snorted and made his goofy, diagonal way to him, following him into the barn and through the door of the huge box stall. Curran scratched the bison’s shoulder, then closed the stall door. He and Jamie changed out of their rubber boots and washed their hands in the barn before heading to the house.

As they walked, Jamie pulled an envelope from his coat pocket and handed it to Curran.

“What’s this?” He opened it as Jamie talked.

“An invitation that came to the office yesterday. I usually decline them like you asked me to, but I thought this one might interest you.”

Hmm. A fundraiser for the children’s hospital in Salt Lake, hosted by Sophia Holt. He recognized the name. Her husband was a well-known developer in the state, but Sophia spent her time on charity work, organizing the kind of galas that appealed to people with the ability to dump big money into donations. He checked the date. The event wasn’t until July, but for these sorts of things, he supposed issuing invitations well in advance got it marked on far more calendars.

A short note accompanied the invitation. He read it, then grimaced. “Oh, she’s heard rumors I might be in the area, and if said rumors are true, she’d love to have the honor of my company.”

Jamie laughed. “Everybody reads the tabloids, Curran, you know that, especially those who would never admit to it. Speaking of which, my own, ahem, sources, say those club photos were snapped by some schmuck at a party and sold to the paper. So you weren’t tracked by the paparazzi, if that makes you feel any better.”

“It doesn’t.”

They entered the house through the mud room, then went into the kitchen. Curran leaned his hip against the sink, considering the invitation for a moment longer before tossing it on the counter. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, listening to Jamie open the refrigerator.

“You want a beer?”

“No.” The children’s hospital did incredible work. He would definitely donate to the cause. But should he actually attend the event?

Perhaps he should go. A distinct craving surfaced inside him. It had been so long since he’d attended a big event. Immersing himself in a crowd was one thing, but prancing around at a gala, dressed to the nines, to see and be seen was another matter entirely. The rush never wore off.

Unfortunately, he didn’t do a terrific job of controlling the need for it, either. It had consumed him before, drained him to a shell of a man. Attending this thing might be lifting the lid on the proverbial Pandora’s box. Still, he’d like to think he was more grounded now. Maybe he could handle it.

Something cold nudged his hand. He mentally shook himself and looked at the bottle of beer Jamie held out to him.

“Whatever it is, bud, you’re thinking about it too hard. Pop this open and hang with me until Kelli gets home.”

He humored his friend, but this was a subject he’d have to revisit. Could he resume the parts of his old life he craved without sacrificing everything he’d gained since then? Because if he could, hell yes, he would.

* * * *

The next evening, Curran made a pathetic four-inch putt to finally sink the ball into the third hole at the indoor miniature golf course.

He retrieved the red ball from the cup and eyed his companions, standing just off the fake turf green. Robby’s mouth hung open in shock, Kel was turning red from trying so hard not to laugh. Jamie didn’t bother to hide his mirth, chuckling as he wrote on the group score card. At least Victoria had the decency to walk over, wrap her arm around his waist and kiss him on the cheek in sympathy.

Robby touched his hand as he stepped off the green. “Are you okay, Uncle Curry?”

“I’m fine.” Before he could say more, Jamie dropped to one knee beside his nephew.

“It’s okay, Rob.” Jamie glanced up at Curran, that damned competitive grin on his face. “We finally found an activity that your uncle isn’t naturally good at.”

Curran swallowed the nasty name Jamie had coming, if only so it wouldn’t enter Rob’s vocabulary. “Do I dare ask what my score is so far?”

Kelli giggled. “Fifteen.”

“I thought I counted more than that.”

Victoria gave his waist a gentle squeeze. “You’re allowed a maximum of five strokes per hole.”

He pulled her against him. “Are you telling me you let me flail around for three holes, trying to get the damned ball into the cup, when struggling to finish was futile after that fifth stroke?”

She broke into a laugh. “You wouldn’t have walked away until you’d sunk the ball anyway.”

“She has a valid point, Curran.” Jamie gave his green ball a toss straight up, catching it again without much effort.

He glared at his friend. “Just lead on to the next hole.”

Rob skipped the few steps to the fourth hole, where it appeared the object was to hit the ball into the haunted house as the door swung open and closed, in order to get onto the main green and have a chance at making par. Rob set his orange ball down and planted his feet apart. “Watch me, Uncle Curry. I’m good at this game, I’ll teach you.”

Curran laughed. “Right, mate. I’m all eyes.”

If only it were that easy to stay focused on his nephew. With Victoria tucked under his arm, the curve of her hip against his, the swell of her breast pressing his side, her warm floral scent teasing his nostrils…paying attention to anything but her proved more difficult as the evening drew on. Wanting her was absolute torture, but sweeter than any desire he’d ever known. She belonged right where she stood beside him. She fit, as if she’d been fashioned just for him.

Robby hit his golf ball, but not nearly hard enough. It went halfway to the haunted house and rolled down to him. He bent and put it back on the white dot on the floor, then looked imploringly at the half-circle of adults. “Would you help me, Jamie?”

Curran couldn’t help the broad grin that spread across his face in response to Jamie’s own surprised but happy expression. Jamie hunkered down behind Rob, his big hands over the boy’s on the club grip.

He glanced at his sister and wasn’t at all surprised to see the love shining in her eyes as she watched her son with the man she wanted in her life.

Damn you, Jamie, don’t you dare hurt her. Or my nephew.

They took their turns through the hole, everyone cheering for Victoria when her ball made it into the haunted house, and rolled down directly into the cup. Her grin infected him, filled him with happiness. God, she was beautiful.

When his own turn at the hole came, he timed the speed of the little door opening and closing. When he had it right, he whacked the ball. Too hard. The door swung down and smacked the ball, sending it flying off into the miniature blue river trickling beside the path.

Curran rubbed his forehead. “Exactly how many holes do I have left to suffer through?”

They answered him in chorus. “Fourteen.”

He’d gone nearly thirty-seven years without playing miniature golf. He could easily go another thirty-seven and never miss it.

An hour later, and more points on his scorecard than he wanted to count, they reached the eighteenth hole. Anxious to be done with the whole mess, he set the ball down and gave it a half-hearted whack. He no sooner stepped away than a red siren above the skee-ball styled hole lit and shrieked.

Rob jumped up and down. “You did it, Uncle Curry, you did it! You won!”

He looked at Victoria, baffled. “What did I do?”

She was laughing so hard she could barely answer. “You hit a hole-in-one on the last hole.”

“I did?”

An attendant in a maroon vest approached, turned off the siren, and handed him a card. “Congratulations, dude.”

Curran had never won anything like this before, but as he looked at the card, the delight melted. “Just what I need. A free mini-golf pass.”

He handed the card to Rob, who whooped and tucked it in his pocket. Curran snagged Victoria’s hand in his and pulled her to him. He drew a deep breath filled with her scent then kissed her lightly. “Enough of this game. Let’s get something to eat.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Jamie said, holding Robby’s hand on one side, his arm draped around Kelli on the other.

* * * *

A few burgers and fries later, Curran drove them all back to Kelli’s house. Victoria enjoying the way Curran wrapped his fingers around hers and held her hand against his thigh, driving with his left hand on the wheel.

What a great time she’d had. Good friends, lots of fun. She enjoyed miniature golf anyway, but seeing Curran tackle something new to him enlightened her. With his natural competitiveness, his reaction to the game came as a surprise. He did his best on each hole, took every stroke seriously, and yet managed to have fun, to play and flirt and laugh off his own terrible score.