The Closer You Come

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to end up like Uncle Kurt,” Brook Lynn gritted out.

Jessie Kay gasped. “Dude. That’s so harsh.”

Most definitely.

Years ago, one of the massive machines at a nearby dairy farm exploded, killing half the workforce. Many Strawberry Valley residents were employed there, including their dad. He had been pronounced dead at the scene.

Their mother had done her rock-solid best to raise them, but occasionally she’d been so desperate for help she’d called her con-artist brother. And when she later drowned—God rest her precious soul—Uncle Kurt, their only remaining family, had moved to Strawberry Valley “for good” to care for them. Brook Lynn had been fifteen at the time and Jessie Kay seventeen, and though they’d been old enough to see to their own needs, they’d still required a legal guardian. But Kurt had stayed only long enough to collect the life insurance.

Jessie Kay gave her a little push, snapping her back into focus. “I’m nothing like that dirtbag. You take that back.”

“Never!” Brook Lynn returned the push. She only ever resorted to physical violence with Jessie Kay.

Her sister slapped her shoulder.

Brook Lynn delivered a slap of her own. “I’m fixing to start counting, Jessica Kay.”

“One,” her sister mocked, knowing her ways better than anyone.

“Two, three.” Forget battling with words. With a screech, Brook Lynn launched forward, crashing into Jessie Kay. They fell into the mattress and bounced to the floor, where they rolled around in a struggle for dominance. When they bumped into the nightstand, the lamp teetered...tumbled down and shattered. The damage barely registered as they continued to wrestle. Brook Lynn managed to come out on top and pin her sister’s shoulders with her knees. She forced the girl to slap her own face.

“Why are you hitting yourself, Jessie Kay? Huh? Huh? Why?”

Her sister twisted left and right, trying to dodge the blows.

Warm breath fanned the crown of Brook Lynn’s head as strong arms banded around her, and a masculine scent saturated her awareness. Jase.

“Let me go,” she demanded. “Let me go right now.”

His hold only tightened. He hefted her over his shoulder fireman-style and strode out of the room.

CHAPTER TWO

JASON—JASE—HOLLISTER carted the petite bundle of fury into the backyard. She fought him every step of the way, the little wildcat, but he held on as if she were a well-deserved war prize. The party guests watched with wide grins, enjoying the show. A few even followed him, no doubt curious to see how the scene would play out.

He resented their presence, actually hated that they were here. Truth be told, he liked to keep his two friends close and everyone else at a distance. His head wasn’t screwed on right on the best of days, and today wasn’t the best of days. He hadn’t had a best day in a long time.

Behind him, the firecracker he’d just slept with shouted, “Put my sister down this instant, you overgrown Neanderthal!”

If he hadn’t already regretted sleeping with Jessie Kay before Wildcat had stormed into his bedroom—she was also known as Brook Lynn, apparently—he would have regretted it now. Before moving to Strawberry Valley a few weeks ago, he’d decided to end his sexual bender. A five-month carnal odyssey, Beck had called it, not quite realizing how right he was. It was an odyssey. Straight into hell. Jase had expected pleasure, maybe a little fun, but he’d had trouble relaxing around the women, and it had made for bad sex, great guilt and even worse memories.

Tonight had been more of the same, another regret to add to his ever-growing list. He’d had trouble focusing, constantly on alert for a sneak attack.

The nine-year habit would be hard to shake.

Besides, the move here was supposed to be his fresh start in a place that represented everything he’d never had but had always craved. Roots, permanence. Peace. Wide-open spaces and community support. A clean canvas he’d hoped to keep clean, not mar by creating a perfect storm of drama, pitting two sisters against each other.

Too late.

Though he’d had no desire to shit where he ate, so to speak, and mess everything up with a scorned lover, he’d had a few beers too many tonight, and Jessie Kay had crawled into his lap, asked if she could welcome him to town properly, and that had been that.

At least he’d had the presence of mind to make it clear there would be no repeat performances, no blooming relationship. He’d earned his freedom the hard way—and he would do anything to keep it.

Women never stuck around for the long haul anyway. His mother sure hadn’t. Countless foster moms hadn’t. Hell, even the love of his life hadn’t. Daphne had taken off without ever looking back.

Light from the porch lamps cast a golden glow over the swimming pool, illuminating the couple who’d decided to skinny-dip. They, like everyone else within a ten-mile radius, heard the commotion; they scrambled into a shadowed corner.

“Pay attention, honey,” Jase said to Brook Lynn. “This isn’t a lesson you’ll want to learn twice. You throw a tantrum in my room, you get wet.” Jase tossed the little wildcat into the deep end, hoping to calm her down.

Jessie Kay beat at his arm, screeching, “Idiot! Her implants aren’t supposed to be waterlogged. She’s supposed to cover them with a special adhesive.”

Please. “Implants are always better wet.” He should know. He’d handled his fair share.

“They aren’t in her boobs, you moron. They’re in her ears!”

Well, hell. I’m on silent, she’d said, the words suddenly making sense. “Way to bury the lead,” he muttered.

Brook Lynn came up sputtering. She swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out with her sister’s help, then arranged her hair over her ears before glaring up at him, reminding him of an avenging angel.

He’d hoped the impromptu dunk would lessen her appeal.

He’d hoped in vain.

Water droplets trickled down flawless skin the color of melted honey. The plain white button-up and black slacks she wore clung to her body, revealing a breathtakingly erotic frame, legs that were somehow a mile long, breasts that were a perfect handful...and nipples that were hard.

Those traits, in themselves, would have been dangerous for any man’s peace of mind. But when you paired that miracle body with that angel face—huge baby blues and heart-shaped lips no emissary from heaven should ever be allowed to have—it was almost overkill.

Damn, I picked the wrong sister.

Well, what was done was done. Another piece of broken glass in his conscience. Another memory to leave a sticky film on his soul, like a spider determined to catch flies.

“I’m sorry about your hearing aids, or whatever they are,” he said, “but catfights aren’t allowed in my room. You should save all disputes for the next JELL-O Fight Night.”

She watched his lips. Her eyes narrowed, an indication she’d understood him.

Without looking away from him, she said, “Jessie Kay, get in the car. If I have to start counting again, you’ll regret it.”

For the first time that evening, her sister heeded her command and took off as though her feet were on fire.

West and Beck arrived a second later and scoped out the scene: a gorgeous woman who was soaking wet, probably chilled, stood as still as a statue, her hands fisted at her sides, while Jase couldn’t seem to look away from her.

“What the hell happened?” Beck demanded, running a hand through his hair.

“This is between him and me.” Brook Lynn pointed to Jase. “You guys go inside.”

“Your hand is bleeding.” West frowned and reached for her.

“I’m not your concern.” She stepped away, avoiding contact, and would have toppled back into the pool if Jase hadn’t caught her arm.

With her sex-kitten curves, he was surprised by the slenderness of her bones. Even more shocked by the soft silk of her skin, the warmer-than-melted-honey temperature. She wasn’t chilled, after all, and the longer he held on, the more electric the contact proved to be, somehow cracking through the armor he’d spent years erecting around his emotions, until he practically vibrated with the desire to touch all of her...to hold her...

To devour.

What the hell?

He released her with a jolt and widened the distance between them. His inner armor wasn’t something he maintained just for grins and giggles. It was for survival. As a boy abandoned by his parents and sometimes mistreated by fosters, he’d learned emotions were a weakness that could be used against him. To feel something for a person or object meant he’d placed value on it—whether for good or ill.

Feel nothing. Want nothing. Need nothing. For the most part, the motto had served him well. There had been times the armor vanished, the darkest of emotions consuming him...pushing him to do things he shouldn’t. Trouble had always followed.

Brook Lynn peered down at her wrist, as if she’d felt something she couldn’t explain, before focusing on him, her eyes narrowing once again.

To Beck and West, who’d remained after her command to leave, Jase said, “Get everyone inside. I’ll handle her.”

The two glanced between him and the girl, and he knew they wanted to protest. Tension thrummed from them both. But then, tension always thrummed from them both. They loved him, but when they looked at him, they only saw him through the dark-tinted glasses of a shared past, a trip they’d taken together through hell. Their guilt and shame always radiated below the surface.

They blamed themselves for the worst years of Jase’s life, a time he would have been far better off dead. It was the reason West had once battled a drug addiction, and Beck still refused to connect with anyone for more than an hour, maybe two if the girl was good. Whether they admitted it or not, they wanted to make themselves suffer the way Jase had suffered. The way he sometimes suffered still.

“Get everyone inside,” he repeated. The gossip vine in this town worked faster than a cable modem, and he had no desire to be the topic du jour. He guarded his privacy the way other people guarded their most valued treasures. Maybe because he had a lot more to hide.

Really, in today’s digital world, there was no such thing as a secret, and the citizens of Strawberry Valley would learn about him soon enough. He just hoped they didn’t attempt to run him off with pitchforks and torches.

“Now,” he added.

This time his friends obeyed. Once the backyard had been cleared, however, they returned to his side.

West offered Brook Lynn a towel. She failed to notice, her attention somewhere in the distance, where tall oaks and blooming magnolias stretched across the acreage. The wild strawberries growing along the forest floor were his favorite part of the property, vivid red fruit that sprang from flowers of the whitest white, with sunshine-yellow centers. A landscape more beautiful than anything he’d ever thought possible.

“Brook Lynn,” he said, but still she paid him no heed. Were her hearing aids ruined?

Guilt pricked at him.

West tapped her on the shoulder, and she yelped. When she noticed the towel, she accepted with a quiet “Thanks.”

“You guys head inside, too, like she said.” Jase hiked his thumb toward the house.

West put his back to Brook Lynn and said softly to Jase, “Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

What? That the girl looked good—and would look even better in his arms? Too late. Just as quietly, just in case, he replied, “I’m not going to try anything with her.”

Beck gave Brook Lynn his back, as well. “Jase, you just threw her in the pool. I’d say your chances of anything but a catfight are slim. The only thing left to do is finesse the situation, and that just happens to be my forte.”

Allow Beck to finesse the delicate beauty? A bead of anger rolled through Jase, surprising him. He’d never directed his temper at his friends. The night’s activities must have screwed with his head more than usual.

“Besides,” West added, “you can’t afford trouble.”

No, he couldn’t. He’d endured his fair share already.

“What if she decides to file a complaint with the sheriff?” Beck’s gaze was grim.

Panic prickled the back of Jase’s neck.

“Whatever you guys are saying about me, stop. If you’ll figure out the cost for repairs,” Brook Lynn said, nudging West and Beck aside to peer up at Jase, “I’ll reimburse you for the lamp and nightstand.”

After what he’d done, she thought she owed him? And get serious. As if there was any way in hell he would ever take her money. He’d heard her argument with her sister, knew the two were barely scraping by.

“Go.” He gave his friends a push toward the door. They reluctantly returned to the party, not because they thought it was the right thing to do, but because they felt they owed him. “I ruined your hearing aids, honey. How about we call it even?”

Her hands immediately went to her ears. To ensure her hair was still in place, hiding them?

The self-conscious action did something to his chest. Made it hurt.

“How about we don’t,” she said.

He ignored her, saying, “Your hand might need to be stitched.” Fat drops of crimson trickled from the cuts the lamp shards had caused.

Her chin lifted another notch. “I’ll be fine.”

“At least let me get you a bandage.”

She watched his lips, took a moment to decipher his words and shook her head. “No, thanks.”

So polite. So distant.

So not worth the hassle.

He’d apologized. He’d offered to pay and had even suggested he play doctor. Now there was nothing left to do but make an exit. “Whether you believe it or not, we are even. It was nice meeting you, Brook Lynn. Let’s do this again in never.” He turned away, fully intending to put her and her sister in the “better off avoided” category of his life.

“Wait,” she called, and for some reason, he stopped. “What are your intentions toward Jessie Kay?”

He closed his eyes. Don’t need this drama. Slowly he turned and said, “You pinned her down and made her slap herself. You seriously care?”

“I do,” she replied, fire crackling in the blue depths of her eyes.

Lying had never been his thing. “I have no intentions. Tonight was a one-and-done experience.”

The fire intensified. “So that’s it? You just screwed her, and now you’re dismissing her?”

“That about sums it up, yes.” In fact, he was pretty sure he was done with all women for a while. When things settled and a need for companionship grew, he might think about contacting Daphne. She already knew some of the horrors he’d endured as a kid, the sins he’d committed as a young man. Though she didn’t know everything he’d been through as an adult—he shuddered, recognizing soul-deep he would never discuss certain things, even with West and Beck. He could have something good with Daph, something permanent. She’d had her reasons for leaving him, and they’d been good ones.

But what could he offer her? It would be impossible to build a future on the crumbling foundation of his past.

And...looking at Brook Lynn now, his body said to hell with Daphne, take this one. The girl smoldered with life and vitality, and he experienced another unbearable urge to grab on to her and hold tight. Warmth spilled through his veins, causing his skin to prickle.

This reaction wasn’t as much of a mystery as the others. Until six months ago, he’d gone nine years without a woman. Of course his body wanted the one that was nearby.

“Jessie Kay is a person,” she said. “She has feelings.”

“So am I. So do I.”

Brook Lynn’s skin flushed to the deepest rose, the change startling, mesmerizing. Irritating.

“She also knew what she was getting into,” he added. “I made sure of it before I ever escorted her into my bedroom.”

Brook Lynn removed one of her sensible flats, but rather than throwing it at him as he expected, she dumped out the water. “Do you do this often, then?”

“Do what?” he asked.

“Seduce and abandon women.”

He laughed; he just couldn’t help himself. “Honey, you must not know your sister as well as you think. She came on to me.” Just a few weeks ago, she’d done the same to Beck. Not that either of them had put up much of a fight or ever complained. “At first, I even told her no.”

“Are you saying she forced you?”

He lost his grin in a hurry, dark waves of rage breaking through his armor, rushing over his mind. His hands balled into fists.

He took a deep breath. Feel nothing. Want nothing. Need nothing.

Tone flat, he said, “No. I was willing. And now, this conversation is over.” He turned before he did something he would regret—too many of those already—and once again began to walk away.

Once again she called, “Wait.”

Something must have been seriously wrong with him, because he faced her, snapping, “What?”

She stepped back, as if frightened.

“What?” he asked more gently.

“I really am sorry for the damage I caused in your room.” Her features softened, making her appear vulnerable in the most tantalizing way, rousing protective instincts he hadn’t known he possessed. “I will pay for what I broke.”

He recognized integrity when he saw it and respected the hell out of it. To so many people, words were just a means to an end. To him, words were a bond. Jase wouldn’t prevent this girl from doing what she felt was right.

“I’ll mail you a bill,” he said, deciding he wouldn’t charge her more than twenty dollars for items he’d spent well over two grand on.

“Thank you.”

“And I’ll pay for the damage to your hearing aids.” He wondered why she had them in the first place. Had she suffered with deafness all her life?

“No.” She shook her head with confidence. “I was out of line, barging in on you and Jessie Kay and then starting a fight in your room. I don’t blame you for tossing me in the pool,” she admitted, surprising him. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to pay for anything.”

He made sure she had a perfect view of his face. He wanted no misunderstandings between them. “Refusing payment isn’t going to do you a bit of good, honey.”

She peered at him for a long while, silent, before recognizing his own determination and sighing wearily. “Fine,” she said. “Whoever owes more can deduct what the other owes and pay the rest.”

“Agreed. And now...” He motioned to the back door of the house.

“Dismissed?” With a humph, she stalked around him—but didn’t head toward the house. She exited the yard through the side gate. He followed at a discreet distance to make sure she reached her vehicle safely.

She climbed into a rust bucket that couldn’t have been close to street legal.

“Are you okay?” her sister asked. “What did Jase say to—”

Jessie Kay’s voice was cut off by the slam of Brook Lynn’s door. As the engine sputtered to life and the headlights blinked on, Jase returned to the house.

West and Beck were waiting for him inside his bedroom, where they knew he couldn’t avoid them.

Beck reclined on the bed, flipping channels on the TV. West sat beside him, tossing pieces of popcorn in the air and catching them with his mouth.

“Hiding from your own party?” Jase asked.

Both glanced over at him.

“I’m the crotchety old man who doesn’t like having people in his space—after I’m done with them.” West threw several pieces of popcorn at him and missed. “I’m currently done with them.”

“Old?” Jase arched a brow. “We’re twenty-eight.”

“Physically twenty-eight. But our souls? Those are older than dirt.”

Beck grabbed the last handful of kernels and stuffed them in his mouth. “I don’t mind people in my space, but we’re currently out of fresh lady meat, and you know I never go back for seconds.”

Exasperated, Jase said, “Then why did you invite everyone over?”

They peered at him, expectant. Guiltier than usual.

“Maybe we thought you could use it,” West said, his tone thick with emotion.

“Whatever you want, you get,” Beck said. “No questions asked.”

They were trying to make up for everything he’d lost. He wished he could comfort them, reassure them, but he’d never even been able to comfort or reassure himself. “For future reference,” he said, “a party isn’t the way to make me happy. I’d rather be alone than surrounded by strangers.”

More guilt from West, sorrow from Beck. Regret from Jase.

“I wanted to move here,” he said. “We’re here. That’s enough.” Six months ago, he’d asked the two to find him a new place to live. Somewhere outside city limits, where the crowds were thinner and the pace slower. West had connections out here, and what he’d described had enthralled Jase. Trees, hills, the closest neighbors miles away. And when the isolated famansion—farm-mansion, as he’d heard it called—suffered a foreclosure a short time later, the two had uprooted their entire lives, unwilling to let him make the move on his own. True, the estate needed a little TLC, but that was something Jase excelled at and was actually enjoying doing.

Beck had lived next to a golf course and West inside a room adjacent to their plush office suite in downtown Oklahoma City. Each place had been purchased soon after they’d created and sold some kind of computer program, hitting it big, and even when they’d made far more money, investing a huge chunk for Jase, they hadn’t bought bigger and better. Change had never been easy for either man. Jase knew that well, hated change himself, but the two had been willing to move here for him.

Besides, it wasn’t as if he would have survived the past nine shudder-inducing years without them or as if he’d have any kind of life now.

“Remember when we first met?” he asked, switching topics. Anything to distract the pair.

West cracked a smile. “The fosters had no idea their request for troubled adolescent boys to guide and nurture would lead to the three of us joining forces.”

Beck snorted. “I believe the mother—what was her name?—told my social worker we were fully capable of building an actual Death Star to destroy the world.”

They’d been eight, and the ten months Jase had spent living with the boys had been the best of his life, an unbreakable bond forming. Even after the system split them up, they’d never lost touch. They’d occasionally attended the same school or lived in the same neighborhood, but at sixteen, when they were able to pool the money they’d earned doing odd jobs, they’d bought a car, and that had been that. It had been the three of them against the world. Still was.

These men were the only people in the world Jase trusted. The only people he would ever trust. They were his family.

“Hey. What’s with the reminiscing?” West asked. “You wouldn’t be trying to avoid the mention of a certain girl...Brook Lynn Dillon?”

Jase rolled his eyes, even as his body quickened with...yearning?

“I’ll take that as a hell, yes,” Beck said, his grin wide and irreverent. “He hoped to avoid.”

“Are you wanting a gossip fest? Why don’t we paint our nails and give each other back massages?” Jase asked.

“Yes,” the two deadpanned in unison.

“I call dibs on the pink polish,” Beck added.

“No fair.” West pretended to pout. “I wanted the pink.”

“You guys aren’t ridiculous and immature at all.”

“But you love us anyway,” Beck said.

He did, and they loved him. “West, go kick everyone out of the house. And if you leave any popcorn crumbs on my sheets, your blood will soon join them. Beck, haul ass to the kitchen and cook your famous morning-after special. I’m starved.”

“On it.” West flew out of the room.

“Can do.” Beck grinned as he passed, even paused to pat Jase on the shoulder. “It’s not morning, but you sure did get screwed, didn’t you.”