She struggled to sit upright. Adam didn’t want to let her. He remained heavy on her, groaning a little as she pushed at him.
Poor Adam, he can’t move—you’ll just have to stay here and let me lie on you.
“Adam, come on.”
Adam groaned louder. His anger was still there, and underneath it a blackness that was going to swallow him, but he’d push it aside for the goodness of Bailey.
“You’re faking it. Get off me, you big lump.” Bailey gave him a shove, and Adam finally heaved himself upright.
“Hey, stop pushing. I’m hurt, remember?”
“Yeah, I feel sorry for you. Get over it.” Bailey shoved her hair from her eyes, her face pink. “What happened? What are those papers about?” She waved her hand at the crumpled pages on the floor.
Adam dropped against the back of the sofa, resting his head on it and running his hands through this hair. “They want to sue me, end my career, take all I’ve got.”
“Sue you? Who does? Why? ”
Adam turned his head, his rage flaring then dying away into quiet bleakness. “Dawson’s brother and his wife. They don’t just want to sue me. They want the ranch, our training business, all of it, my mom’s share and my brothers’ as well as mine. They’ll punish all the Campbells to get to me.” He looked limply at Bailey, wanting to lose himself in her deep brown eyes. “They want to take away everything we have. All we’ve worked for. Every last bit of it.”
Chapter Eight
Bailey listened in horror. “Why are they suing you?” She itched to fetch the papers, but to do that meant getting off the sofa, where Adam sat so warmly next to her. She wouldn’t move right now for the world. “It was an accident.”
“I don’t know.” Adam scrubbed his hand over his hair again. “Dawson’s brother was always a serious pain in Dawson’s ass, and his wife was even worse. Dawson never got along with them. When their parents passed, Dawson inherited most of the money and his dad’s big house in Oklahoma. His brother always gave him hell for it—for that, and for going into stunt work.” Adam let out a breath. “Mark told me Dawson’s brother went after the studio, but the studio has so many lawyers they’ll tie the whole thing up for decades. I’m an easier target. Easy to blame me and get some money while he’s waiting for a settlement or whatever from the studio.”
“But …” Bailey’s brows drew together. She didn’t like Adam’s haunted look, something darker behind his anger. “I mean why you? It wasn’t your fault. You were as much a victim as Dawson.”
Adam rested his head against the back of the sofa. “That’s what you don’t get, Bailey. What no one gets. It was my fault. I screwed up, and my best friend died.”
He closed his eyes, the lines around them tightening. Adam had always believed that men shouldn’t cry—or if they did, at least make sure they were a hell of a long way from anyone. He didn’t cry now. But his anguish rang loud and clear, even if he didn’t make a sound.
“It can’t have been your fault. There was an investigation, wasn’t there? Accident reports?” Bailey spoke confidently as she laid her hand on his shoulder.
She got lost a moment in the steel hardness of his muscles under her fingers, the amazing strength his injuries hadn’t drained. Bailey sat on his left side, where all the scars showed on his face, ruining the male perfection that had been Adam. Even so, his vitality blazed through. Rather than being a disfigurement, the scars had become a part of him and what he was.
Adam opened his eyes, his fury returning. “Yeah, the report said the truck’s engine stalled and the steering wheel jammed, spinning the truck out of control. But we would have found problems like that if we’d been more careful. But the director was rushing, the shot had to be finished that day—too expensive to carry over another day—and Dawson was pushing for it. There were new people on the set—people I didn’t know. I was the one to decide whether to run it or not, and I got talked into going through with it. We should have waited, rechecked the setup, sent his truck back to maintenance, to hell with the schedule. All I had to do was say no, and Dawson would still be alive.”
It hurt him, hurt him deeply. Bailey realized where his touchiness had come from these past weeks, more than from just his injury. He’d been going over and over the accident in his head, reliving his decision, second-guessing what he should have done. He’d been picturing what would have happened if he’d argued, stood his ground, not let people talk him into doing what he knew would be dangerous. Whether he could have prevented the accident or not didn’t matter. Adam believed himself responsible.
He’d been bottling this up inside him, keeping it silent all these weeks, while his brothers had teased him, and she’d chided him.
“Adam, I’m so sorry,” Bailey said in a near-whisper.
She slid her hand from his shoulder and laid her head there instead. Adam’s skin was hot beneath his shirt—Bailey could feel his chest lift with his breath, the thrum-thrum of his pulse in his throat.
Then his fingers were cupping her cheek, lifting her face to his. Adam’s blue eyes filled her vision, an inch or so from hers.
“You’re feeling sorry for me again.” His voice was low, an irritated growl.
“Yes.” Bailey refused to move, to stammer, to apologize. She was finished being the shy girl. She had a lot to give, and a lot to offer. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Adam’s mouth set into a grim line. “Tell me the truth. Are you with Kyle?”
Bailey resisted the urge to answer, No, I’m with you, but she knew what he meant. “If you’re asking whether we’re a couple, no,” she said. “We’ve been out a few times, but not often, and we agreed it’s not exclusive. We’re keeping it light.”
Adam didn’t seem to hear anything past no. “I’m one to take what I want. But I won’t take what isn’t mine.”
“No?” Bailey asked in surprise. “I thought you and Kyle fought over everything.”
“Not when it’s important.”
His gaze unnerved her, his eyes lake blue with lighter blue flecks. “And this is important?”
Adam’s answering smile pierced her to the bone. “Yes.”
“Adam …” There she went. Blushing, stammering. I’m one to take what I want. “What are you saying you want?”
“You.” His grin widened. “What did you think? Brussels sprouts?”
Bailey cleared her throat, tried to sit up—she couldn’t—and said, “So, when were you going to bother to tell me? You’ve been home five weeks.”
“Five weeks, three days, and a couple of hours,” Adam said. “I was going to tell you when I was good and ready.”
“And you’re ready right now?”
Adam traced her cheek with a finger that shook, but not with fear. “Right now, I’m mad as hell, hurting all over, and just found out I’m going to lose everything I care about. This is as good a time as any.”
In spite of his rage, his fingers were firm, his touch strong, filling Bailey with fire. “You won’t lose everything,” she said. She wouldn’t let that happen.
Adam didn’t appear to hear her. “Just so you know, I’m not good with the romantic stuff. I don’t know the right things to say. I only know that you’re beautiful, and it’s ripping me up inside not having you.” His fingers moved on her face, his touch electric. “I’m beat up and broken, and scared of everything that’s going to come next, but just sitting here with you is making me better. So I’m going to hold on, all right? When you want me to let go and leave you alone, you tell me, but not … Not right now.”
“Not right now,” Bailey whispered, her heart full—then she laced one hand behind his neck and pulled him into the kiss she’d been imagining since she’d seen him stagger to the porch the night he came home.
Adam stilled, his hand on her face quieting. The next moment, he came down to her with hard need, kissing her back, seeking, taking.
This wasn’t the kiss of a man defeated, or ruined. This was a man who’d gone into the world
with nothing, faced it, succeeded. Would face it again.
Right now, he needed a break. He needed to kiss her.
Their bodies moved together, his grip tightening, securing her against him with no intention of releasing her.
Bailey was aware of nothing but Adam. His breath on her skin. His mouth, firm and hot. His hand on her back, holding her in place.
Adam bit down on her lower lip, the heat of that washing her clean. Bailey made a noise in her throat and he curved over her, pushing her against the arm of the sofa.
Her shirt loosened, Adam’s hands sliding under the fabric, heat in the sun-warmed room. Adam glided his touch around her back to her bra, easily finding the catch. He unhooked the bra as he deepened his kiss, pushing it aside to take his palms to the swell of her breasts.
Bailey wanted to gasp, groan, make any kind of noise as Adam caressed her. His thumbs found her nipples, which were already firm little points, stirring fire deep inside her.
She arched into him and slid her hands down his back, craving his touch.
Adam eased away from the kiss, still cradling her breasts in his work-roughened hands. Bailey’s shirt had lifted high, and his gaze dropped to her bareness, exposed in sunlight.
“You’re even more beautiful,” he said, triumph in his eyes. “I knew you would be.”
For a man who claimed he didn’t know the right things to say, Adam was melting her heart.
On Adam’s part, his pulse was pounding fast, the heat inside him making him dizzy. Maybe his head wasn’t all the way healed from the beating it had taken in the accident, or maybe it was just Bailey leaning back on the couch, her dark eyes half closed, her hair a mess, her shirt up, revealing to him how gorgeous she’d become. Her breasts were plump, filled out from what he remembered, her large nipples tight and dark.
She’d look even better out of her dusty work clothes and wrapped in sheets—better still, bare on top of his bed.
She’d always been sexy without knowing it. Adam had met plenty of women who were aware of their own looks, and what those looks could get them. It made them grasping and cold, with nothing behind their sultriness but hard greed.
Bailey, on the other hand, had no idea she was beautiful. She’d called herself a frumpy nerd, and those idiots she’d taken up with in Austin probably hadn’t corrected her. Her stupid husband hadn’t appreciated what he’d had. Only a moron would give up Bailey, didn’t matter what other woman walked past.
Adam wanted to tell her all kinds of things—I missed you; I thought about you every day; When I saw you here, everything started to come together again.
Coherent speech was beyond him, though, which right now didn’t really matter.
Bailey let out a gentle sigh, her body moving under his touch. Adam’s heart beat faster, his cock so hard it was aching. He needed her hand on it, or her lips, her tongue …
Damn, but he shouldn’t think of things like that. Adam leaned down, ignoring the twinge in his bad leg, and licked between her breasts.
Her soft gasp had him growing even harder. Bailey laced her fingers through his hair and pulled him to her, encouraging him.
Adam licked again, moving to trace her nipple with his tongue, teasing the point before he closed his mouth over it.
He liked the noises she made. The little moan as he suckled her, the half squeal as he gently bit the tip of her nipple. Adam had known women who’d faked every feeling; Bailey showed nothing but honesty.
Adam knew that if he worked his way inside her jeans he’d find her wet, her honey beckoning his fingers and his mouth. The thought of Bailey spread while he licked her, tasting every bit of her, made his wild need ramp high.
It had been way, way too long since he’d had any sex. He was in danger of coming right there, without undressing, like a crazed teenager.
But with Bailey, Adam would be forever young, and it would be forever new.
“Ah…” The one syllable cut into the room, Grant’s drawl unmistakable.
Bailey jerked in alarm and tried to squirm away, but Adam grabbed her and held her back. “Wait. It’s only Grant.”
Bailey subsided, wide-eyed as Adam drew her shirt down to hide her nakedness. He took his time lifting away from her, turning to his brother who stood just inside the front door, hat in hand, staring awkwardly at the ceiling.
“What?” Adam asked him.
Grant took a swift glance at Bailey, saw she was covered, and relaxed slightly. “Yeah, it’s only Grant, right now,” he said. “The rest of the pack are heading up the hill, with Faith. It’s a half day at her school. Carter picked her up, and they’re coming in to make a big lunch.”
“Oh, God.” Bailey scrambled up, smoothing her shirt back into place, her face red. “Grant …”
Grant gave her a wink. “Hey, I can keep a secret. And it’s a good secret. Adam and Bailey, back together. As it should be.”
“We’re not …” Bailey huffed, regaining some of her dignity. “This was just …”
“Adam groping you? Yep, I saw.” Grant grinned. “If you’re not back together, then you’re friends with benefits. But even friends with benefits don’t do it on a couch by the front door with a ton of people about to walk in.”
Adam heaved himself from the sofa and stood at Bailey’s shoulder. “Leave her alone. And keep your mouth shut.”
“Don’t I always?” Grant made a show of zipping his lips, locking them, throwing away the key.
“No, you don’t. You gossip like a girl.” Adam put his arm around Bailey. “Don’t embarrass her.”
She pulled away, anger in her eyes. “He can’t embarrass me any more than I already am. I’ll see you guys later.”
Adam couldn’t believe how empty he felt as Bailey left the circle of his arm, determined to go. If Adam opened his mouth, he’d call after her, beg her not to leave, dignity and self-reliance gone to hell.
Grant spoke for him. “Stay to lunch, Bailey. Faith will want to see you.”
Bailey’s face reddened more. “No—I’ll grab lunch somewhere. You all have a lot to talk about.”
She looked pointedly at the papers still scattered across the floor. Damn it. Adam would need to explain what was going on, something he didn’t look forward to. He’d hoped Bailey would remain and help him break this news.
But no, there she went, out the door. Grant didn’t stand in her way, didn’t try to stop her.
Adam went out after her, and Grant didn’t stand in his way either. Adam’s bad leg slowed him down, but he caught her at the bottom of the porch stairs.
“Bailey, don’t.” He closed his hand over her wrist, holding her too tightly. “Grant will keep his mouth shut. He likes you.”
“It’s not that,” Bailey said. Well, her mouth said that. Her eyes told him she was embarrassed and ashamed, and didn’t want to face the horde of Campbells after Adam had been feeling her up. “You have to tell them about the lawsuit and what it means. That’s family stuff. I shouldn’t be here for that.”
You’re family, Adam wanted to say, but at that moment Faith saw Bailey and came bouncing toward her.
Bailey jerked from Adam’s hold. She moved to Faith with a swift stride, intercepting her. Adam heard the little girl’s disappointment when Bailey told her she had to go. Carter gave Adam a puzzled frown as he neared, but fortunately didn’t ask questions.
Adam let Bailey go—for now. Not much he could do, not with his family flowing up from the drive to the house.
He watched Bailey get into her small pickup and slam the door, not looking at him or anyone else as she started it up. Faith waved to her, and Bailey flashed a smile at the girl and waved back. Then Bailey pulled out, gravel spraying as she punched the gas too hard and the tires spun.
She drove off in a big hurry down the long dirt lane, the dust in her wake dissipating in the warm, blue sky.
**
Bailey’s hands were sweating on the steering wheel, her breath coming so fast it hurt, but she realized she needed
to slow down and take it easy. Wouldn’t help if she wrecked her truck or hit someone else—or was pulled over for speeding by Deputy Ross Campbell. That would make the day perfect.
Her wrists, neck, breasts, all held bands of fire where Adam had touched her. Her mouth was raw, tender, everything a reminder of him and how much she wanted him.
If Grant hadn’t come in … It was a good thing he had. The entire family would have found Adam with his hands up Bailey’s shirt, her nipple in his mouth. They’d have found a shotgun and made Adam propose.
Worse, they’d have laughed. Adam didn’t need to be laughed at right now. He needed … well, Bailey wasn’t sure what, but teasing him for losing control wasn’t it.
She took her foot from the gas and glided down the road at an even speed, slowing to the requisite thirty-five when she hit the town limits. Welcome to Riverbend, the sign the town council had raised said. Home of the Friendliest People in Texas.
Bailey had intended to head to her house and recover her equilibrium, but her truck’s fuel gage showed the tank was empty. She sighed and pulled into Riverbend’s one gas station.
The family who owned the station had also built the restaurant next door, turning the corner into one of the most popular in town. Breakfast time on weekends saw the place packed, Mrs. Ward’s biscuits and gravy the best in the county.
Bailey pulled in next to the pumps and got out, her movements wooden. She’d fuel up, go home to her cozy little house, sit down, and try to cool off. Later she’d have to go back to the Campbell’s ranch—she was helping Grant and Tyler work up a new act for the Fall Festival. She couldn’t let them down because their brother had kissed her.
She’d have to face Adam again, look into his eyes, remembering the feeling of his mouth on hers, his hands hot under her breasts. When they’d been younger, and Adam had made love to her, he’d been all smiles and energy—now he had the slow assuredness of experience, knowing how to draw a woman into passion …
“Bailey.”