The Closer You Come Read online

  "Well, okay, then. I guess this is where we say goodbye." Kenna shot Brook Lynn a sympathetic look before departing with her family.

  "So," Charlene said, resting her elbows on the counter.

  "So. How can I help you?"

  "I just wanted to make sure Beck got those muffins I baked him."

  I think you mean bought him. "He sure did. He even said something about all these strawberries making the girls here taste just as sweet. Doesn't that make you think strawberries are his favorite fruit?" Brook Lynn added, tracing her fingertips over a strawberry pendant. She desperately needed to make a sale today.

  Charlene brightened. "I have a collection of Edna's finest at home. I'll wear--"

  Brook Lynn tried to look as horrified as possible. "You're thinking about wearing last year's fashion? Are you sure-- No, no, I'm, uh, sure that'll be fine. The other girls who came over with treats for Beck will probably wear last year's fashion, too."

  "Other girls brought him treats? Who? You tell me right this second."

  "I'm not going to name names and start a catfight when I don't even know which of you Beck wants. But if you stick around the store long enough, some of them might just arrive to buy jewelry, hoping to impress him." Not a lie. They might.

  Feminine calculation gleamed in Charlene's hazel eyes. She bought every item with a strawberry. She would never wear them all, but this way, no other woman would be wearing them, either.

  Brook Lynn floated on clouds of happiness the rest of her shift--or would have, if not for her ears--creating new pieces for the display cases. When the bell over the door rang again, she glanced up, expecting Brad--and almost snapped off a finger instead of a wire. Jase had just entered the store.

  Reeling.

  As usual, he looked good. Dangerous and good, as if he'd just stepped from a boxing ring... No, scratch that. As if he'd just come from an illegal street brawl, his dark hair mussed, his emerald eyes bright and gleaming from the high levels of testosterone pumping through his system. A man on the prowl, searching for a willing woman to satisfy.

  She set the needle-nose pliers aside. "What are you doing here?"

  He waved a piece of paper at her, his biceps flexing. "I have your new list."

  Her heart rate picked up speed as she read over what appeared to be a shopping list. Or rather, tried to read over it. Her eyes would not move past number two, her cheeks heating. "Beer. Condoms," she said, peering at him through the thick shield of her lashes.

  "Ex-large," he said with a nod. "Maybe ribbed for her pleasure. I'll let you decide."

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach. "Is there a specific her in mind?"

  "Just consider that a collective her."

  "I see." She tried to contain her blush as she ticked off another item on the list--and failed. "Hemorrhoid cream? Seriously?"

  "I don't know if anyone's ever told you this, honey, but sometimes you can be a major pain in the ass."

  Well played, Mr. Hollister. Well played. Clearly he was having fun.

  Fun. Again. And at her expense. Well, not anymore.

  It's my turn, she thought, mentally adding an item to her own list. She'd turn the tables on him. Starting now.

  "Personal lubricant?" she said, eyeing him up and down without shivering. Surely I deserve some type of reward. "Yes, I can see how you might need that. Or is it for a friend?" She used air quotes, letting him know she wouldn't believe him if he tried to take that path.

  He set his elbows on the counter and leaned closer to her. "Some women need an extra boost. None of mine ever have, but there's a first time for everything."

  The blush redoubled. "Why lice shampoo?"

  He shrugged. "There could be an outbreak."

  "What about the yeast-infection ointment? The feminine cleansing pads? The vajazzle tattoos?" Never even heard of that. "The peekaboo mirror for personal inspection?" She gazed at him and rested a hand over her heart. "Wait. Do you have a hoo-ha fetish?" She batted her lashes at him, hoping he heard the unspoken bless your heart.

  "Doesn't every man?"

  "Well, you can still count on me. I'll take care of everything. You and your hemorrhoids will be feeling better in no time. One day soon you'll even be able to sit in a chair without a cushion."

  He rocked back on his heels. "You are not handling this the way I expected."

  "Tears? Refusal? Please. I'd buy laxatives, suppositories for constipation, pills to stop diarrhea, an entire box of pregnancy tests and a tube of antifungal cream without a single moment of humiliation."

  "Great. Add those to the list. And don't forget you promised to make sandwiches tonight."

  The bell tinkled, signaling the arrival of another customer, saving her from having to reply.

  Though Brook Lynn stood on her tiptoes, she couldn't see over the wide expanse of Jase's shoulders. When she motioned for him to move, he simply crossed his arms over his massive chest, stubborn to his core.

  Fine. She stepped to the side and peeked around him, her gaze locking on Brad. As he removed his sunglasses, she waited for tingles and heat, wanted to experience them, but...nothing.

  Peachy. She smoothed her clothes in place and forced a smile. "You came."

  "Of course," Brad said, returning her smile with one of his own. "You texted."

  Jase tensed, as if the store had just been invaded by zombies.

  "Jase," Brook Lynn said, "this is Brad Lintz. He owns Lintz Automotive, and he's a true master of his craft. He's kept Rusty, my car, running for years. Brad, this is Jase. My boss. My other boss, I mean."

  Brad held out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

  Jase bristled like a porcupine before he pressed his palm against Brad's--and he must have squeezed too hard, because Brad flinched. Jase released him and stuffed his hands in his pockets, as if he didn't trust them, and returned his gaze to her. His pupils had expanded, black completely overshadowing green. A sign of heightened emotion; one she'd seen every time she'd caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror after a fight with Jessie Kay.

  He was...angry?

  His body language answered the question, shouting yes! He grew stiffer by the second and even braced his legs apart, as if he meant to pounce.

  "I should go," he said. "Don't forget the list."

  As if she would be thinking of anything else.

  He stalked out of the shop before she had time to form a reply, acting as if his feet were on fire.

  "Interesting guy," Brad said.

  "Yes." But he wasn't dating material. Brad, on the other hand...

  He was a handsome man, with well-defined features, tidy dark hair and navy eyes. A combination she hadn't seen often. He stood just over six feet--though at six-four, Jase towered over him. He was lean and when not wearing his work overalls, always well dressed.

  "What kind of list?" Brad asked.

  "Oh, uh, something for work." She tucked Jase's note into her pocket. And now it was time to nut up or shut up and ask Brad out.

  What if he says no?

  She'd survive. Maybe cry. Big deal.

  "Brad," she began. Sweat slicked her palms as sickness churned in her stomach. How should she do this?

  Do you know what my shirt is made of? Girlfriend material.

  I'd rather die.

  I don't have a library card, but do you mind if I check you out?

  I'd rather die twice.

  "Well," she said, rubbing at her ears. With Jase here, she'd forgotten how badly they'd been bothering her.

  "In your text," he said, "you mentioned you had something important to ask me."

  "That's true. I do." Open your mouth. Create words. "Brad, would you like to go out with me?"

  *

  JASE PACED JUST outside the Rhinestone Cowgirl. He should go home. He had a crap-ton of work to do. He felt as if he was being watched, his neck practically burning with an increase of tingles, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Brook Lynn was currently in an enclosed space with another guy. Alone. Jas
e didn't like that--even though he had no right to dislike it--and things just got worse.

  He was boss; she was employee. He'd made sure she understood that.

  He still didn't like it.

  The girl was chipping away at his armor, and she had no idea she was doing it. No idea that every smile, every joke, every touch between them destroyed a very necessary layer of his protection.

  Hell. The armor was already close to disintegrating, wasn't it?

  And now this other man wanted her. That much was obvious. The adoration in his eyes had been sickening. And, if Jase had to guess, the feeling was definitely mutual. Brook Lynn had brightened when she'd spied him.

  His hands fisted, the bones aching. He wanted to stomp back inside that store and kick Brad out on his ass. But of course he didn't. He wouldn't. It would be considered assault. Worse, Brook Lynn might not appreciate his helpfulness.

  Nothing but disaster awaited him here.

  He picked up the faint sound of footsteps, coming in behind him, approaching fast. Tensing at the possibility of a threat, Jase spun.

  An older man dressed in overalls paused to give Jase the stink eye. "What are you doin' loitering outside Ms. Edna's shop, boy?"

  Jase breathed, his heart rate slowing. "I'm...thinking."

  "Do yourself a favor. Go inside and buy your girl a fine piece of jewelry."

  Not what he'd expected the guy to say. "I don't have a girl."

  "Guy?"

  "No."

  "Single, then." The old man looked at the shop door then back at Jase. He shuffled closer and held out his hand. "I'm Virgil Porter of Swat Team 8--we assassinate fleas, ticks, silverfish, cockroaches, bees, ants, mice and rats. You must be one of them city boys who moved here with Lincoln. And I know. Everyone calls him West, but that's his last name, gosh dern it, and I ain't calling no one I've shaken hands with by his last name. It's rude is what it is."

  "I'm Jase. And I assure you, that's my first name." Unlike with Brad, he didn't contemplate breaking every bone in Virgil's hand.

  "You pinin' for our Brook Lynn, then?"

  Yes. No. Damn it. He didn't know what was going on inside him.

  Last night he'd wanted to kiss her more than he'd wanted to live free. Something about her called to him. Her delicacy, maybe. All he wanted to do was protect her. Or her stubbornness, perhaps. She did what she thought was right, refusing to back down. Or her wit, even. She'd taken his list and turned it against him.

  He smiled despite The Great Hemorrhoid debacle.

  "Yes, sir," Virgil said with a nod. He patted Jase on the shoulder. "You ain't the first, son, that's for sure."

  How many others were there? Yes, a man would be a fool not to recognize Brook Lynn's appeal, but Jase didn't like the thought of other men desiring what belonged to--

  Not me. Never me.

  Maybe Brad.

  "Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but I'm not comfortable discussing my love life with a stranger," Jase said. He was barely handling a discussion with himself.

  Virgil waved his words away as unimportant. "Miss Brook Lynn is a special girl, and she deserves a special man. You special, Jase?"

  "No, sir," he said, opting for honesty. "I'm not." The people of Strawberry Valley would be horrified to know just how un-special he really was.

  "Well, that's too bad."

  A feminine scream suddenly pierced the air--and it had come from inside the jewelry store.

  Jase didn't hesitate. He bounded forward, practically shattering glass as he pushed his way inside. He took in the scene in an instant. Brook Lynn was sprawled on the floor. There was some kind of small mechanical device splattered with blood resting beside her. Blood leaked from underneath her hair, down her chin, dripping on the floor.

  Brad was crouched in front of her, begging to know what he should do. He was trying to help her, but Jase didn't care. She was sobbing. He shoved the male aside and acted as her shield. She grabbed hold of his wrists, holding on to him for dear life, her eyes wide and overflowing with tears.

  "What's wrong, angel?" he asked.

  A whimper of pain escaped her. She opened and closed her mouth, but words never formed. Finally, she released him to clutch at her ears.

  Her ears. "How can--"

  She cringed, even moaned.

  "I think she needs--" Brad began, and Brook Lynn whimpered.

  Jase rounded on the guy, glaring, and slapped a hand over his mouth. For whatever reason, noise hurt her right now, so there would be no more noise. It was as simple as that.

  When he was certain Brad understood another word would get him hurt bad, Jase gathered Brook Lynn in his arms. She burrowed against his chest and cried quietly, her entire body heaving. He pulled the cell phone from her pocket, turned it to silent and thumbed through her address book to find her sister's number.

  Texting with such an old phone proved difficult, but he did it. One minute dragged into another, and he had to fight wave after wave of helplessness to keep from drowning. Not knowing what else to do, he carried Brook Lynn to the back of the shop, away from Brad and Virgil, who'd followed him inside the shop. When he opened the office door, the groan of hinges sent her into another fit of sobbing. He laid her on the couch, waited until she'd calmed, and tiptoed out to call the only doctor in her address book. He told the receptionist what was going on and was told he'd get a call back. He barely managed to keep his crap together while he waited.

  Five minutes.

  Five minutes of utter hell.

  Finally, though, a nurse phoned him and he learned that he was to give Brook Lynn the sedative that would be waiting at the local pharmacy and then take her to Baptist Hospital in the city. Jase rang Beck and quietly told him to pick up the medication and bring it to the shop. Then all he could do was wait some more.

  CHAPTER TEN

  BROOK LYNN BOLTED UPRIGHT, unable to catch her breath or hear a single sound, a residue of panic slowly fading.

  Panic? Why? She searched her surroundings for clues. A tube extended from one of her arms, ending in an IV bag. A blood-pressure cuff was anchored to her left biceps. Hospital, she realized.

  Ugh. She hated hospitals. As a kid she'd spent countless hours inside sparse, sterile rooms with strangers as roommates, drugged to the max to counteract the constant, uncontrollable pain in her ears.

  Her ears!

  Frantic, she reached up. The moment she encountered the implants, she relaxed. They were in place and clearly working, deaf as she currently was, and though the motion caused a dull throb to reverberate through her head, like a fresh bruise in the process of healing, it was far better than the itching--and what had come after.

  Once again, I'm Frankenlynn. But at least she could function.

  The room was small but private, Jessie Kay sleeping in the chair by the window. The blinds were open, allowing her to see outside. Bradford pears, oaks and wildflowers surrounded a busy parking lot.

  Memories flooded Brook Lynn. She'd been inside Rhinestone Cowgirl. Brad had just accepted her invitation, and as they'd made plans their hands had brushed together--masculine contact she hadn't experienced in a very long time. But there had been nothing. No spark. No shiver of pleasure or internal tingle. Not like the mere thought of Jase often caused. Brad had leaned toward her and, afraid he was going to try to kiss her, she'd jerked away. She'd stumbled. When she hit the floor, one of her implants had ripped free.

  The pain--oh, the pain. Every sound, from the whistle of wind against the shop windows to the patter of footsteps outside, had agonized her. Then Jase had arrived and...she couldn't remember anything after that.

  Fingertips brushed over her wrist. Gasping, she faced the culprit. Jessie Kay had woken up and now stood at her bedside. Her lips were moving.

  "You'll have to start over," Brook Lynn said, speaking over her sister. "I'm on silent, and I'm not ready to change that. I have to read your lips."

  Jessie Kay nodded and, with tears welling in her eyes, said, "I'm so sorry th
is happened. Sorry I wasn't there to help you."

  "It wasn't your fault."

  "I know, but..." Features tight with tension, Jessie Kay latched on to her hand and squeezed. "I was with Sunny. She'd just gotten a huge check for the oil leases on her land, and she staked me a few hundred bucks. We went to the casino in the city to try and win more."

  Just like Uncle Kurt. Trying to hide her dismay, Brook Lynn said, "And while you were there, you threw a penny in a wishing well and asked that one of my implants fall out?"

  "Never! Dude. You know I hate wishing wells."

  True story. Jessie Kay feared the Pet Sematary effect. "Then I still don't see how this is your fault."

  "It just is. For once in your life, don't argue with me."

  "Fine. You're to blame. You suck."

  A relieved nod. "Much better."

  Brook Lynn squeezed her sister's hand in return. "How long have I been here?"

  "Two days. You've actually woken up and talked to me a few times before, but the doc told me the drugs might screw with your memory."

  Brook Lynn clenched her eyes shut and dragged in a breath. She'd missed two days of work? After she'd told Edna she would be more reliable. After only two days on the job with Jase. I'm the worst employee ever. Both of her bosses had to be tee-icked.

  "By the way, Jase is in the waiting room. He hasn't left, not one time," Jessie Kay said, her eyes going wide with awe. But the awe was soon replaced by dismay. "He yelled at me. Told me I was nothing but a drain on you, and I needed to step up and do my part."

  Two reactions bubbled up at once...warm flutters dancing in her stomach, anger burning through her veins. Jase had stayed? Had worried about her? He cared about her that much? But he'd yelled at her sister, insulted her, when he'd had no right to do so. He didn't know the fires and trials that had molded Jessie Kay into the woman she was. He hadn't been there every time she'd tossed and turned with nightmares, crying out for their parents. He hadn't been there when she'd scrimped and saved to buy their uncle a birthday present--only to find out he'd hocked it the next day.

  "I love you," Brook Lynn said. "You know that, right?"

  Jessie Kay gave a reluctant incline of her head, wiped away the tears that had sprung up and quickly moved on. "Kenna is here, too. Brad was, but he had to go to work. I'm supposed to call him with a progress report and..." Her gaze shifted. "Hey! No one invited you in here, death-peddler."