The McCullagh Inn in Maine (7 page)

With Jeremy outside,
handling the cops, I rubbed my hands up and down my arms as I surveyed the damage to the walls and windows. This would easily set us back a few days and a few hundred dollars. But that wasn't what really mattered. What mattered was that
they
were getting closer. Soon they'd discover the truth about Richard. It was a truth I couldn't accept, but I'd done what I needed to do to survive and get out of there alive.

If I wasn't careful, my past was going to destroy everything I loved. It was time to take care of business. Obviously, my plan to escape and fade into the sunset wasn't working out, so I needed a new one. One that wouldn't quite have a happy ending for me.

If I was going down, the least I could do was make sure no one else went down with me. I had to make sure Paul and Jeremy would be okay. There was one course of action left available to me. The door opened and I stiffened, waiting for the cops to come in and question me. Instead, Jeremy came in alone. The flashing lights outside turned off and headlights hit the windows as the cars pulled away. “What's going on?”

“They got a lead on the shooters, headed down on Main Street.” Jeremy locked the door but didn't come any closer. Just stood there. “After they investigate, they'll be back to ask questions. Probably in the morning.”

I blinked. “They just…” I held my hands out, their palms facing up. “…
left?
”

“This isn't Florida,” Jeremy said dryly, rubbing the back of his neck. “There are four cops in town, and there's never been a drive-by. When it happened, they sent the two on-duty cops here. When Mr. Brady, down by Route 22, called in to report some kids joyriding in a city-slicker car, they went to see if they could catch them. An off-duty officer was told to keep watch here, in case the shooters come back, but Larry—from high school, you remember—he thinks they'll catch the kids tonight.”

“Good.” I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering. “I thought this was supposed to be a safe town. It's why I came back.”

“It is a safe town, relatively speaking.” He crossed the room, pulling me into his arms. He ran his hands up and down my bare biceps, warming me the way only he could. “I don't know why this keeps happening to you guys.”

“What do you mean?” I asked hesitantly, resting my cheek on his chest for a second.
Just one second
.

He shrugged, still running his hands over my arms. I melted into him more, even though I knew better than to lean on a guy like Jeremy. If I let him, he'd swoop in and try to fix all my problems, and I needed to do that all on my own. “Weird, huh? You and Paul having such a run of bad luck?”

“I guess.” I swallowed. “Why did you come back?”

“To town?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“I missed small-town life. I don't know what I was looking for when I left, but I didn't find it. The second I knocked on this door, though, and you opened it…” He pulled back, tipping my chin up gently with his hand so our eyes could meet. “I found what I've been looking for all this time. This inn, and you…it just feels right.”

He stared at me silently, his eyes asking a million questions. Questions I couldn't answer. I glanced away, staring at the drawer he'd so fluidly opened earlier since it was easier than looking at him. It wasn't that I didn't trust or care about him. It was that I saw how all this was going to end, and it didn't include him and me together.

Stepping out of his reach, I felt the loss of his heat immediately. “How long have you known about the gun?”

“Since I moved in.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door. “Does the fact you're keeping that gun handy connect to your recent misfortunes?”

I lifted a shoulder. “Not really. Like you said, bad luck. Or maybe karma, coming to collect.”

He laughed, but there was no warmth to it. “So you're not worried about this?”

“Aside from the fact that we now have to fix up all the damage they caused? No.” I crossed the room, opening the drawer. His green eyes followed my every movement as I picked up the gun. “But I think I'll bring this up with me tonight, for safekeeping.”

“I want to stay here to renovate longer than we originally talked about.” He rubbed the back of his neck, ducking his head and watching me. “I spoke to my boss. He said I can work remotely for as long as I want. You clearly need more help here than you thought—”

I stiffened. “I do not.”

“Chels. Your walls are literally shot up.”

My cheeks heated, and I turned my face away. The idea of him sticking around wasn't unpleasant, but shouldn't he
want
to leave? We'd just been shot at, for God's sake. I had a feeling that wasn't something an accountant was accustomed to. “I'm fine on my own. You need to stop worrying about me. As a matter of fact, in light of these new events, if you're gone in the morning, I totally understand.”

He flexed his jaw, staring at me through narrowed eyes. “
I'm
not the one who runs away.”

“Then you're an even bigger fool than I thought.”

I headed up the stairs without another word, and, miracle of all miracles, he let me. As I walked down the hallway to my empty room, I tightened my grip on the gun more with each step. By the time I closed the door behind me, I was breathing heavily. My knuckles hurt, my throat ached, and my chest burned…but I refused to give in to the urge to cry.

Big girls don't cry.
Dad's voice echoed in my head, filled with reprimand and disgust. He'd hated shows of emotion, so at a young age, I'd learned to show none. My mother had taken off pretty much the second she finished pushing, and I hadn't heard from her since. All I'd had was Dad, and Paul…and Jeremy. Leaning against the door, I took a deep breath in, exhaling it slowly.
Repeat until you regain control
.

After a few times, the burn eased and I was able to breathe…until I looked at the bed. On my pillow, bright against the white pillowcase, were four red roses. Anger choked me, and I stalked to the bed, picking them up in one swipe. A small card read:
together again
. Clearly, Jeremy hadn't listened when I'd told him to stop with the flowers.

I tossed them in the trash and slid the gun under my pillow. Sinking onto the mattress, I opened my MacBook and clicked on the email icon. I'd need all the help I could get. It wasn't every day a girl gave up everything she fought hard for to save someone else.

Especially not a girl like
me
.

Jeremy watched Chelsea
from across the living room as he held the white crown molding against the wall, lining it up to see what it looked like. It was going to match the fireplace perfectly. After the drive-by three days ago, they'd been on overdrive to get the living room put back together. They'd replaced the broken windows, plastered the bullet holes, and repainted. The room was coming back to life.

Chelsea hadn't been much of a talker these past few days.

Instead, she'd been single-mindedly focused on finishing everything as quickly as possible. Jeremy couldn't help but think it was because she was racing against some kind of inner clock. He was losing any grip he had on her. She had a certain air that screamed defeat, but if he had anything to say about it, she'd never lose. It would help if she would just trust him and tell him what he needed to know instead of leaving him to fill in the blanks himself. He knew he could fix this with minimum damage.

Aside from the inn.

Then they could continue reconnecting. There had been a few passionate kisses here and there, but for the most part, she was still holding him at arm's length. What she didn't know was that he was scared, too. But that's when you know it's real.

When it scares the shit outta you.

“Jeremy?”

He snapped himself back to the present. “Yeah?”

“You mentioned wanting to stick around here, while working remotely. Said you wanted to live in a small town again. Right?”

He swallowed. “Right.”

She stroked the brush over the mantel, leaving it a shiny antique white. Paul had been right. It complemented the peach walls perfectly. “Well…if I had to leave again for, for reasons, would you keep working on this place, bringing it back to life even if I wasn't here?”

He froze, staring at her, his heart pounding. And there it was, the confirmation that she was planning something that would result in her leaving all this work undone. “Of course, I'll do whatever you need me to do. But where are you going?”

“Nowhere.” She stroked the brush again, still not looking at him. “Just hypothetically thinking out loud.”

Bullshit. She was up to something. While he was honored she trusted him enough to leave the inn in his hands, he'd rather she trusted him with the goddamn truth about why she was running away…
again
. “Did the cops come by yesterday?” he asked casually.

She nodded, staring at the mantel as she ran the paintbrush over a spot she'd missed. “Yep.”

“I heard the investigation into those joyriding kids didn't pan out, and they still don't know who shot at us. Did they give you any new details? Something that sparked these hypothetical thoughts you're having?”

She stiffened at that last part. “Nope. I told them that I moved here to fix up the inn, and that my place got shot up.” She swiped the brush across the mantel harder. “That's all I know, so that's all I told them. End of story.”

Jeremy gritted his teeth. Enough was enough already. Obviously, she trusted him enough to put him in charge of the inn. Now she needed to trust him with her secrets, too. “Really, Chels? After all this time, you still won't let me in, not even a little?”

“I don't know why you keep asking me about this. You were there! You saw everything I did. Maybe even more.” She turned around, her cheeks slightly red and her lips parted. “You're turning out to be a lousy worker, more interested in gossip than actually helping. Are you going to nail those strips of molding to the wall, or are you hoping they magically attach themselves?”

He threw the wood down and held his hands out at his sides. “I don't know. You seem to believe in the impossible, as if I wouldn't remember that your voice goes up when you lie, so maybe you believe in magic, too. Or, better yet, maybe you could, I don't know, tell me the
truth
. Why do you need a caretaker for the inn? You running away again?”

For a second, just a brief fucking second, she opened her mouth, and he thought she was going to finally talk. But then she closed it, shrugged, and shot down his hopes with a single word. “Whatever.”

When she turned back to the mantel, ignoring him again, something inside him snapped. He stalked across the room, rage consuming him, and spun her around by the shoulder. “Damn it! Stop
ignoring
me. I'm trying to save your ass, and you won't let me.”

Her nostrils flared. “No one asked you to ride back into my life on some quest to save me. I don't need you, or any other man, trying to be my knight in shining armor. I can defeat my own dragons, thank you very much.”

Suddenly she looked more alive than she had in days. So that was the way to get her talking. Piss her off. Luckily, he was good at that. He gestured to the formerly shot-up wall and said, “Looks like you suck at it.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she pointed an angry finger at him. “Screw you. You think you can just come in here and the world will arrange itself to your will, that everything will be sunshine and rainbows just because you say so. Guess what? It doesn't matter if you're a good person or if you try to do the right thing, because evil will triumph over goodness every time. And I hate…I hate.…” A frustrated sound escaped her, and she stomped her foot, just like she used to do when they were younger. Just like she had ten years ago, when she told him she loved him and that he was a fool for agreeing to marry someone else. “I hate
you
.”

He did the same thing he had done all those years ago, when she said those same three words to him. Growling, he wrapped his arms around her, hauling her against his chest, burying his fingers in her hair and splaying the other hand across her back.

“Yeah, well, I love you. So tough shit.” The second he said it, he knew he had made a huge mistake. Chelsea and feelings didn't mix, and he was going to scare her off before he had a chance to save her life. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, and he did the one thing guaranteed to shut her up.

He kissed her.

I strained against
him, trying to get closer, knowing I should be pushing him away. He loved me, and I was only going to break his heart. When this whole thing was over and the dust had settled, he would be left alone, sad, missing me—and I didn't want that for him. He deserved more than memories. I broke the kiss off, trembling, every inch of my body begging for more. “Are you sure?”

He grabbed my hair and my shirt, nodding, not letting go. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I'm not losing you again, Chels. Yes, I'm sure.”

My heart twisted, and I opened my mouth to tell him he
had
to lose me again. I did trust him, but I'd already put plans in motion. The other night, after mourning the loss of the life I wouldn't get, I'd contacted the feds. I hated them even more than the cops—being an O'Kane and all, I couldn't help it. But in a few days, I'd disappear again with my brother at my side, and there would be no finding me this time.

It would be over between Jeremy and me, and he'd be better off because of it.

But the second his lips touched mine, I swallowed the words. He backed us out of the living room, his lips never leaving mine as we stumbled toward the stairs. By the time we made it to my bedroom, I was a mess of trembling need and untapped emotion—a dangerous combination. We fell back on the bed and it felt so right that it stole my breath. All the more painful that soon, I'd be losing him all over again.

Over the past few days, I'd pictured an actual life with Jeremy by my side as my accountant and jack-of-all-trades. And damn it, that life we could have shared had sounded good. Him. Me. Falling in love all over again. Turning this inn into a home for us and a sanctuary for others. It had been everything I ever wanted.

His hands roamed over my body. Down my hip, around the swells of my breasts, across my ribs. When he closed a hand over my breast, dragging the side of his thumb across my hard nipple, I gasped. Desire pooled in my belly, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He took advantage of my open mouth, his tongue slipping inside to claim mine as he squeezed my nipple between his fingers.

We undressed each other with unsteady hands, clothes flying everywhere. By the time I was down to a thong, its matching red bra tossed on the floor, all rational thought fled my brain. I lay on the bed, breathing heavily, as he tugged his boxers down. When he stood there, naked, staring down at me as if I meant the whole world to him, I sucked in a breath.

And I didn't exhale. If I did, I'd say something stupid like how I loved him, too. I'd say he was the only man who had never lied to me.

He rolled a condom on and crawled up my body, leaving kisses in his wake. My calf. My knee. He placed a love bite on my inner thigh, then rolled my thong down my legs, his fingers burning on my skin as he went. A fire was hot within me, and there was only one way to put it out.

I spread my legs, letting my knees fall to the side. He slipped his hands under my ass, lifting me up to his mouth, and finally gave me what I wanted—his mouth on me. It was magical, and crazy, and so powerful that for a second I thought I might be dreaming this whole thing. But then his fingers dug into my skin, his teeth scraped me, and I was breathing heavily, panting, and writhing against his mouth as the pleasure rose higher and higher. I couldn't
breathe
.

After a few minutes of this perfect torture, he rolled his tongue over me, once, twice, and with mind-clearing clarity, I came hard, my whole body hardening impossibly before I collapsed, breathing heavily. He didn't stop there, like any other man would have.

Instead, he tapped my sensitive flesh, sending me soaring over the edge again, tears running down my face because it was so intense. Every nerve, every sensation, was heightened because this was Jeremy. He was the one. He'd always been the one. The only reason I'd been with Richard was because I didn't think I deserved this—I didn't deserve a guy like Jeremy. Especially after what we'd done the night before his wedding. In a way, I was punishing myself by ruining the only good thing I'd ever had in life.

I'd stayed with an abusive asshole because I let myself believe it was what I deserved. Once this was all over and I turned into state's evidence, they would take me away to my new life in protective custody, where I'd keep lowballing myself.

I would lose Jeremy all over again.

And this time, I had no one but myself to blame.