Unbreak My Heart (2 page)

“We’re not done with this, Sierra. Not by a long shot.”

His footsteps squeaked on the linoleum. The door opened and closed with a soft click.

I knew I was alone.

Nausea rolled over me. I closed my eyes.

I just needed fifteen minutes and this nightmare would be over.

When Doc Monroe
woke me, I didn’t know where I was.

Then a cough and burning in my throat reminded me.

“You tested positive for strep,” the doc said, helping me sit up.

Goodie.

“Two treatment choices. A ten-day cycle of penicillin in pill form or a shot of penicillin.”

“A shot,” I whispered.

“Good choice. You’ll feel better faster. You want me to prescribe a cough suppressant?”

I shook my head.

“Rielle’s opinions of western medicine have rubbed off on you.”

My father’s wife preferred natural remedies whenever possible. Most people attributed that mindset to her hippie-like upbringing. But the truth was before she married my dad, her financial situation dictated she find fast and cheap alternatives. She and I laughed that she’d rather be seen as a hippie than a cheapskate.

The doc pulled out a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. She attached one to the other and looked at me. “Drop your drawers. You get this shot in the butt.”

Great. I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of my yoga pants.

Just then, three fast knocks sounded on the door before it opened a crack. “Doc, we need you right away in six.”

“Dammit.” She gestured to the needle in her gloved hand. “Get someone in here to do this.”

That’s when I knew the universe was giving me an opportunity for payback, because fifteen seconds later, Boone strolled in.

So the fever took control. Or the bad angel. Or the devil in my soul that Boone West put there when he left me with a broken heart.

“I’m here to—”

“Give it to me, right?” I said huskily in my best phone-sex-operator voice. I turned around. Peering over my shoulder, I affixed my gaze to his as I shimmied my yoga pants down to my knees.

He hissed in a breath.

I saw his struggle, the temptation to ditch decorum and drop his gaze from my face to my ass—which was completely bared by my thong.

My ass won out.

Sucker.

And oops—I accidentally shook my ass at him as I leaned over to rest my hands on the edge of the exam table.

“Hold still,” he said tersely. He prepped the area with a cool swipe of liquid on my skin.

I clenched my cheeks together; I couldn’t help it. Better that than him believing I broke out in goose bumps from his simple touch.

“Relax,” he murmured.

Then before I fully prepared myself, he jammed it in.

A soft grunt escaped me.

He soothed me, gently curling his hand around my hip. “Just a little more.”

I knew he was dragging this out. Big surprise that the bastard got off on causing me pain. The injection site started to sting, sending electric sparks shooting beneath my skin.

“Done.”

Paper rattled and I looked over my shoulder to watch him press a circular Band-Aid over the tiny dot of blood. Then he slowly swept his hand over my butt cheek.

I felt the pure male heat of him even through the latex.

“You can get dressed,” he said without conviction or even looking at my face.

Asswipe.

I ignored him as I yanked my pants up.

Boone was still standing there when I turned around. “I’ll come find you when you’re feeling better so we can talk.”

I shook my head.

“You can’t escape the past, Sierra. More to the point, you can’t escape me. See you around, McKay.” Then he flashed that killer smile—
my
smile, the one he used to bestow only on me—and backed out of the room.

After that, I fled the office.

Three days later, I fled Sundance.

I told myself I wasn’t fleeing from him.

I told myself the only reason my dad let me know that Boone stopped by every day after he’d seen me at the clinic was to make sure I was over him.

I was in the clear now, with Wyoming in my rearview mirror and Arizona in my headlights.

But as the miles dragged on, I could admit that I
did
run from him.

I just didn’t expect Boone West to chase after me.

T
he first time
I saw Sierra Daniels everything around me just stopped.

Time, objects and people were suspended in place as if I’d stepped into a sci-fi movie, where the hero has a moment of absolute clarity that only he experiences.

When her whiskey-hued eyes connected with mine, I knew pure joy and utter misery in equal measure.

Joy because I’d found her.

Misery because I couldn’t have her.

Not then, anyway.

I still felt that
whomp
in my gut every damn time I thought of it. Of her. Even now.

A horn blared, dropping me back into reality.

Traffic in Phoenix had me missing the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. Even cruising across the desert in a transport truck beat this bumper-to-bumper bullshit.

Pain shot up my forearm. I glanced down to see my knuckles were white from my death grip on the steering wheel. I uncurled my fingers and unclenched my jaw.

Breathe, man. Stay calm
.

Yeah, like that was gonna happen. It’d been seven years since I’d seen her.

Seven. Years.

Technically, that wasn’t true. Sierra had shown up at the clinic in Sundance ten days ago. Our mutual shock at the unexpected run-in had been overshadowed by the fact she was so goddamned sick…

My hands tightened on the steering wheel again. It still burned my ass that she fucking
ran
away from me as if I was the dirty rat responsible for infecting her with the plague.

When I’d driven out to her dad’s house the next day to check on her, Gavin Daniels refused to let me see her. While I understood his protective streak—especially given my history with his daughter—I pointed out that Sierra was an adult; he didn’t have the right to make that decision for her.

That’s when Daddy-O reiterated it
had
been Sierra’s decision; she wanted nothing to do with me.

A reaction I’d shrugged off and blamed on her high fever.

Justification? Or cockiness on my part?

Both. But I knew in the marrow of my bones that an apathetic woman wouldn’t have made such an edict because she wouldn’t have cared. Sierra cared.

Being a determined bastard, I’d shown up at Sierra’s house every day.

Being a stubborn McKay, she refused to see me every day.

By the third day, I recognized that even Gavin and his wife Rielle were starting to feel sorry for me. I used that to my advantage when Gavin informed me on day four that Sierra had returned to Phoenix.

My demand for her phone number garnered a “fuck no” and the door slammed in my face.

My request for the name and address of the place she worked resulted in a detailed description of the legal definition of stalking.

My promise that I would willingly let every male member of the McKay family—notoriously bad-tempered cowboys—hog-tie me to the flagpole in the middle of town and take turns beating the ever-lovin’ fuck out of me if I harmed a single hair on Sierra’s beautiful head had finally convinced Gavin of my sincerity.

He provided the information I wanted…after I’d signed a binding legal contract.

In blood.

Okay. Not in blood, but the pen I’d used
had
contained red ink so it was a distinct possibility. But I’d gladly sign a deal with the devil himself if it meant I had a shot at making things right with the one woman I’d never forgotten.

So here I was, trying to implement a plan of attack on the fly.

The irony of this situation? I’d had meetings scheduled in Phoenix before Sierra and I had crossed paths.

That had to be a sign.

Had
to.

Maybe that was wishful thinking on my part. But no one has ever accused me of being an optimist—I’d lived with the “Brooding Boone” moniker since my third birthday.

Could Sierra see me beyond who I used to be? The borderline bad boy who’d left her after admitting I’d hidden my feelings for her from the start?

But you aren’t that kid anymore.

So I’d changed. Big deal. It’d be a sad situation if I hadn’t. I could thank the United States Army for the significant improvements in my life and the opportunities that joining the military had afforded me.

Way to sound like a recruitment poster, douche.

Fuck.

Where was my confidence? I was educated. I’d expanded my language skills. I’d become a team leader. I’d learned the art of compromise and negotiation. I’d effectively erased most of that punk I used to be.

But what if that’s the guy she wants?

Fuck that. I could offer her things now that I couldn’t before. I had a career. A pension. A nice car. A bright future.

She always had those things that you worked so hard to get. What can you give her that no one else can? What makes
you
special?

My mind blanked.

I heard a crack and realized I’d been grinding my teeth so hard my jaw had popped.

All of this speculation meant squat.

My male pride assured me I’d come this far and she wouldn’t refuse to see me. It kept reminding me I’d had a connection with Sierra I hadn’t experienced with anyone else. Unfortunately, my pride also had a sadistic streak. It suggested I’d never gotten over Sierra because she’d never really been mine in the first place.

My pride was a total dickhead most of the time.

The GPS reminded me to turn right at the next intersection and then announced my destination had been reached.

After I parked in the visitor’s lot, I bent down and peered through the bottom of the windshield so I could see the Daniels Development Group office building from the ground up.

I’d always known Sierra came from money. Yet I also knew that Gavin Daniels had been responsible for that financial success after expanding the business he’d inherited from his father. Did Sierra feel pressured to make an equal—or an even bigger—mark with her role in the family business? She had the brains to do it, but did she have the drive?

Thinking back, I didn’t remember that she’d been interested in carrying on the family legacy. Then again, who knows what they want out of life at age sixteen? Just because I’d known her then, didn’t mean I knew anything about her goals, aspirations and responsibilities now. And I couldn’t wait to find them out firsthand.

As I crossed the parking lot, I figured it was a good time to remind myself what I
did
know.

Sierra worked in Daniels Property Management on the tenth floor.

She wasn’t in a relationship.

My brain hit pause. What else?

When nothing came to mind, I realized that was all I knew about her.

Sort of pathetic, really.

But Sierra had roughly the same basic knowledge about me, so we’d be on equal ground.

The thought of getting this second chance with her quickened my stride as I entered the lobby.

As I rode the elevator, various scenarios ran through my mind of how this would play out.

In the movie version of our reunion, we’d be running toward each other in slow motion, through the rain. We’d kiss like mad, pausing only to tearfully confess our eternal love for each other as the scene fades to black.

In my version, after I promised to spend the rest of my life making up for the past seven years we were apart, we’d end up on the rain-soaked ground, so hot for each other we fucked right there in the mud. Or I fucked her up against a tree. Or I bent her over a park bench. Oh hell yeah. That one was really good. Especially when I imagined my hand twisted in that gorgeous dark hair of hers, pulling just hard enough to make her gasp as I whispered dirty, dirty promises in her ear.

Jesus man, get a fucking grip. You really want to stroll in sporting wood? And is sex all you really want from her?

Well, no. But I sure as hell wouldn’t pretend I wanted to be her friend either.

The elevator stopped on the tenth floor and the doors slid open.