The Closer You Come Read online

  Beck chuckled. "Fixing to start?"

  "Something they love to say here. Just go with it." West frowned and said to Brook Lynn, "You do realize I'll be breaking all kinds of bro-code rules if I tell you."

  "Better you break the rules than I break your face."

  "Fair enough." Looking suddenly and inexplicably irate, he said, "She's in Jase's bedroom."

  Jase, their other friend? Jessie Kay had turned her sights from Beck to him? Meaning Charlene Burns hadn't been blowing smoke. Great! "Where is Jase's bedroom?"

  "Third door on the right," West said, even pointed.

  Beck slugged him in the arm. "Dude. What if they're still busy?"

  Busy? As in exactly what she suspected?

  A tightness came over West's features but he shrugged. "Her corneas will burn, but they'll heal."

  "Dude," Beck said again. "There is such a thing as privacy."

  Leaving the pair to their argument, she stalked out of the kitchen and down a hallway. The couples who'd migrated this way were pressed against the walls, making out, so no one noticed her. She came to the correct door and prepared to knock, announcing her presence...only to hesitate. If Jessie Kay was totally tee-rashed, the guy was taking advantage of her, and if Brook Lynn gave him any warning, he would stop whatever crime he was committing and hide the evidence. He needed to be caught red-handed.

  Then again, if she walked in and interrupted two consenting adults while they were getting "busy," her corneas would indeed be burned.

  What was more important? Her sister or her eyes?

  Okay, then. Decision made.

  Brook Lynn turned the knob. Or would have, if it hadn't held steady. Dang it! Locked out.

  Well, too bad for Mr. Hand-in-the-Cookie-Jar. A lock wasn't actually a problem for her. Brook Lynn's con man of an uncle had taught her how to pick anything with a tumbler. And hustle at pool. And cheat at poker. He'd actually taken her allowance every time she'd lost during a "practice" session.

  She backtracked, avoiding the kitchen, and soon came to an office with a Keep Out sign posted on the door. Please. After confiscating two paper clips from the top drawer of the desk, she returned to the bedroom door. A quick insertion and twist...yes!...and she was able to push her way inside.

  The lights were on. A man stood at the far edge of the bed, pulling a black T-shirt over his head and oh...wow...wow. She caught a delectable glimpse of olive skin and a delicious eight pack that could only be made from adamantium. A maze of intriguing tattoos she would have liked to study in-depth decorated much of his chest, but unfortunately the material covered him a second later, hiding the visual feast of sexy.

  One thing became very clear very fast. West and his supposed most perfect perfection could suck it. There was a new and even juicier slice of beefcake in town.

  Beefcake paused when he noticed her, snaring her with the most intense green eyes she'd ever seen, making her shiver. Why? Those were not bedroom eyes; they were far too cold for that. They were frosty, practically arctic...but they were also an invitation to do whatever proved necessary to warm the guy up.

  She watched as those beautiful, sensual eyes narrowed.

  Mortified to be caught staring, she cleared her throat. "Are you Jase?"

  He gave a clipped nod. "I am."

  Only two words, and yet she had trouble tracking the motion of his lips. They'd thinned with displeasure, his tone probably stilted and stinging.

  "Who are you?" His gaze swept over her as he ran a hand through his dark hair. The strands stuck out in spikes. "How'd you get in here?"

  Never admit to your crimes. Uncle Kurt's voice reverberated through her head.

  Never follow your uncle's advice, baby girl. And there was her beloved father, just before he'd died.

  Never forget lies are poison. Her cherished mother.

  All three, now gone. A pang in her chest.

  "Maybe you forgot to lock the door?" she suggested. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't an admission, either.

  "Maybe I didn't." His lips were thinning again.

  She shrugged. "Faulty lock? Who's to know?"

  He arched a brow. "Did you come here hoping to be spanked?"

  Her heart rate kicked into overdrive, the organ pounding against her ribs, as if she'd just been shot up with enough adrenaline to revive a dead horse. "No, I didn't, but you're certainly welcome to try--if you want to have your balls surgically removed from your throat." Had threats of bodily harm replaced proper meet-and-greets, and she just hadn't gotten the memo?

  "What do you want?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Was he trying to intimidate her? She studied him more intensely--and got caught up in his appeal. He wasn't classically handsome, but then, he didn't need to be. His features were rugged, total male, with a nose slightly out of alignment and a square jaw dusted with inky stubble, leading to a tattooed neck. Two necklaces hung just over his sternum, one an oval, one a cross. He had wide shoulders, leather cuffs anchored around his wrists and silver rings on several fingers.

  He wore jeans that weren't fastened and combat boots that weren't tied. Clearly he'd dressed in a hurry. And he could be talking to her right now, but deaf as she currently was, she wouldn't know it. She returned her attention to his mouth. Once again it was a hard slash.

  "I'm sorry," she blurted out. "I need you to repeat that."

  He frowned. "Who are you?"

  "Brook Lynn Dillon. I'm looking for my sister, and I was told--" Movement atop the bed drew her gaze. "She's in here with you," she finished. If Jase said anything else, she didn't know and didn't care anymore. She approached the bed.

  The person beneath the covers stretched before sitting up, pale, shoulder-length hair falling into place around a sleep-soft face Brook Lynn recognized all too well. Relief blended with an irritation she didn't understand as her sister blinked over at her.

  Jessie Kay's lips were moist and red as she clutched a sheet to her naked chest. "Brook Lynn? What are you doing in here?"

  She wasn't wasted, as Brook Lynn had feared, but she was clearly exhausted--from too much pleasure. The irritation spread and spiked.

  "What do you think I'm doing?" she demanded.

  "Well, the first thing that pops into my head is--annoying the crap out of me."

  A typical Jessie Kay response. "Just...get dressed," Brook Lynn said. "Let's go home."

  "No way. You go." Her sister settled more comfortably against the pillows. "I'm good right where I am."

  "Too bad. It's late, and we have to work tomorrow."

  "Actually, you have work. I'm calling in sick."

  "No, you are not sticking me with a double two days in a row," Brook Lynn said. "I'll tell Mr. Calbert the truth. You know I will."

  Jessie Kay shrugged, unconcerned.

  How are we related? "I'm very close to losing my temper with you." Brook Lynn had only three goals in life: save money, buy Rhinestone Cowgirl and turn her sister into a viable human being.

  Love the girl, but I don't know how much more I can take.

  Jessie Kay loved her, too, and hadn't purposely set out to make her life hell. That was just collateral damage.

  "Calm down, Warden," her sister said. "No need to blow a gasket."

  Warden. A nickname Jessie Kay had given her at the age of fifteen. Brook Lynn gritted her teeth, saying, "Get dressed. I mean it."

  Her sister's eyes, a darker shade of blue than her own, flashed with impatience. "I told you. I'm not going anywhere." Jessie Kay said something else, but she'd turned away, and Brook Lynn couldn't follow the movement of her lips.

  "I'm on silent," she interrupted. "I need to see you."

  Jessie Kay immediately turned toward her, but her gaze got caught on Jase, and she flinched. Before Brook Lynn was able to comment, her sister rushed out, "Okay. All right. I'll get dressed. Jeez."

  Brook Lynn dared a glance at Jase. He hadn't relocated from his spot at the end of the bed, his muscled arms still crossed over his
chest. His frosty gaze was locked on her rather than the woman he'd just slept with, and she gulped.

  "We'd appreciate a little privacy," she said, praying she wasn't breathless.

  He gave a single, clipped shake of his head. "Sorry, honey, but this is my room."

  Honey? Had she misread his lips? "Well, we want to borrow it for a few minutes."

  "I doubt you could afford my rental fee."

  Depended on the currency. Shivers? Tingles? She currently had those in spades. He exuded the most potent levels of testosterone she'd ever encountered, her deepest instincts recognizing him as the kind of guy every girl should have by her side when the zombie apocalypse occurred.

  After a marathon viewing of The Walking Dead, she and Kenna had even mapped out survival plans A, B and C. Glomming on to the first strong (and handsome) man they came across just happened to be the heart of B. Plan A, her personal favorite, revolved around kicking zombie butt while stealing supplies from other survivors--girls had to do what girls had to do--while C boiled down to burning the entire world to the ground.

  "Can you at least pretend to be a gentleman and turn around?" she asked.

  "I would--if I knew how."

  A quiver ran through her, nearly turning her muscles to jelly. She should not find his unrepentant bad-boy admission sexy. No, she definitely shouldn't. Somehow she managed to look away from him. He'd just slept with her sister, so he was now and forever off-limits.

  Jessie Kay scanned the spacious room. "Anyone seen my shorts?"

  A pair of cutoffs and a tank were wadded up next to Brook Lynn's feet. She picked up both and tossed them at her sister. "Well? Aren't you going to apologize for missing five hours of work?"

  "Uh, why would I apologize?" Jessie Kay tugged on the shirt. "I'm not sorry. Besides, I barely had any customers."

  "All of your tables were full with changeovers every hour. Meaning I had to hustle--without a break--to meet the demands of your customers as well as mine. Which was impossible! I made mistakes and lost tips." A single penny counted when you had so few.

  "I'll make it up to you, swear," Jessie Kay said, shimmying into the shorts while still under the covers. "Don't worry."

  Another spark of anger burned through Brook Lynn. "Have you come into a secret inheritance, or will I be forced to dig into my savings yet again to pay your share of rent and utilities?"

  "Hey! I'm totally keeping track of every cent I owe you. I'm going to pay you back."

  It may be too late then, she wanted to scream. Her future happiness had a time limit. Edna, the owner of Rhinestone Cowgirl, had given her until the end of the year to come up with the money to buy the place.

  Brook Lynn might not be passionate about her creations, but owning that little jewelry shop was her only viable road to success. And that she wanted with every fiber of her being. She had already begun to make plans. She would pay to have a webpage created and sell her jewelry to people all over the state of Oklahoma, not just to the residents of Strawberry Valley and the seasonal flood of tourists. She would finally stop living day by day and actually live for tomorrow.

  Her sister stood and patted her on top of the head. "Hate to break it to you, little sis, but your jewelry store is just about as useless as a cow squirting water."

  Useless?

  Useless!

  "I just don't want you unhappy," Jessie Kay added, throwing fuel on the fire.

  The burn of simmering anger became a bomb of rage, exploding inside her. Unhappy? Unhappy! What did her sister think she was now?

  "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.

  W
omen 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."