Can't Hardly Breathe Page 27

  And she was the luckiest woman. After all her trials and tribulations, Daniel was her reward. "Freckle marks the spot."

  He laughed but quickly sobered, too caught up in the moment...the need. Then he leaned over her, his chest pressing against her back. Heat to heat. Skin to skin. His erection teased her opening but didn't enter her.

  Warm breath fanning over her nape, he said, "I like having you at my mercy."

  "Less gloating, more filling."

  A foil wrapper ripped, the sound ramping her up.

  He ran her earlobe between his teeth. "I know you are perfect just the way you are."

  With a shout, he thrust inside her. Pleasure. So much pleasure. Part of her died, part of her came to life.

  When he pulled out and slammed back in, the bed rattled. Another wicked sound. She was wet, soaked, and he somehow grew harder, as if he were a sword forged in her fire. Everything was a stimulant. The air. The forcefulness of his breath. The way his fingers dug into her hips. She would be bruised tomorrow, and she would love it; she would remember his possession, and she would smile a secret smile.

  He reached around her and caught her swollen little nerves between two fingers. Fingers he scissored. A climax rocked her, swift and sure, her heart practically exploding as her inner walls clenched on him.

  His body jerked against her, and he roared her name, coming, coming so hard she felt it. She was branded. Forever marked as Daniel's girl.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  DANIEL DIDN'T WANT to leave Strawberry Valley. He'd begun to dread the arrival of the weekend, when he would have to venture into the city for a job--where he would have to spend an entire weekend away from Thea. But Friday morning arrived on schedule and, because he'd made a commitment, he stayed in.

  Jazz and Charity had stuck around longer than anticipated, but they, too, were leaving as soon as they finished filming some kind of segment at the inn. A home-in-the-heartland piece they hoped the network would air to catapult the inn into the vacation destination for all Oklahomans. Their way of apologizing to Thea, he was sure.

  Since he and Thea had made love in the theme room, he'd spent every night with her. They'd drunk golden milk on the roof while gazing at stars. Sleeping still wasn't his favorite thing, and nightmares still plagued him, but his girl knew just what to do. He always fell back to sleep with a smile.

  They'd already said goodbye, before he'd driven to his dad's to pack and get the dogs situated, but damn it, he needed one more kiss.

  Virgil was in the kitchen with Adonis and Echo, eating a plate of food Carol had sent over. Daniel joined them, and the dogs rushed over to demand pets.

  "Don't forget to--" he began.

  "I know, I know," Virgil said. "Take the dogs to Dorothea at seven, when she's done for the day."

  "Thank you."

  "They're my granddogs. They'd be just fine spending the nights with me."

  "Yeah, but she needs them." Never going to be alone again. Daniel poured himself a glass of orange juice. "You still thinking I'm not good for Thea?"

  "Well, isn't that what you think?"

  "I...don't know," he admitted. His need for her still scared him, despite his hatred of fear, but he was working on it. He sat at the table and buried his head in his hands. "How did you know Mom was the one for you? That you could risk being with her...one day losing her."

  "Easy. I couldn't breathe without her." So simply stated, without fear or reservation. "She was worth any risk."

  Jude and Brock strode into the kitchen. Jude was frowning, of course, and Brock looked posthungover and prehungover at the same time.

  "Need coffee." Jude scrubbed a hand down his face, revealing cracked and bruised knuckles.

  "Rough night?" Daniel asked.

  "Ryanne banned Jude from the bar for fighting." Brock pilfered a piece of bacon from Virgil's plate. When Virgil slapped his hand away, he growled, "You should thank me. I'm helping reduce your cholesterol, old man."

  "You let me worry about my cholesterol. You worry about the fork you're gonna be wearing if you reach for another piece of bacon."

  Brock reached for another piece.

  Virgil didn't fork him, but he did grumble under his breath. "You boys are about as useful as a screen door on a submarine. I'm gonna enjoy the peace and quiet while you're gone, yep, that's what I'm gonna do."

  After Jude drained the coffeepot dry, the three of them loaded their bags in Daniel's truck.

  "You boys be careful now, you hear," Virgil called from the porch, the dogs dancing at his feet.

  Daniel saluted him before driving off. "Gotta make a pit stop," he said.

  "Let me guess." Jude slipped on a pair of sunglasses. "The inn."

  "You are so whipped." Brock, who occupied the front passenger seat, twisted to peer back at his friend. "And so are you. You've been sitting in a dark corner of a bar watching every move the bartender makes like a creeper. I'm embarrassed for you."

  "Screw you. Screw you both," Jude snapped, and Brock laughed. "There's talk of a rival bar being built across the street, and how the supposed owner is not a nice man. I'm looking into him. I'm also protecting Daniel's girlfriend's best friend."

  Whatever you gotta tell yourself, buddy.

  "I'll just be a minute." Daniel parked in front of the inn and jumped out. The sky was a brilliant baby blue, the sun shining.

  No one sat behind the reception desk, but he'd linked Thea's phone to the front door, and it was only thirty seconds or so before she rounded the corner. Her dark curls were piled on top of her head, as usual, and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. Those freckles slayed him. Her cheeks were bright with color, and her eyes sparkled as she met his gaze.

  "What are you doing here?" She frowned, her hand fluttering to her throat, and he noticed her nails were still striped, indicating her emotions were all over the board. "Is something wrong?"

  "Yes, something's wrong. I don't want to go. I've got things to do here." Things he enjoyed. He liked hanging around at the inn, deciding which room patrons would get, monitoring the security feed and working on the theme room. "My boss, also known as the dragon lady, gets pissy when I'm not here to do the hard labor."

  She fluffed her hair, actually appearing proud of the new nickname. "Trust me. We'll be fine without you."

  "Please. I single-handedly run this place."

  She rolled those gorgeous shamrock eyes. "I haven't seen you lugging a cleaning cart around."

  "Sweetheart, I don't need a cart. I walk into a room, and the mess hides."

  Now she snorted. "Have you always been this full of yourself?"

  "It's a recent development. Someone thinks I'm the greatest man in the history of ever, and since she's the smartest person I know, I have to believe her." He should go. He'd already passed the promised minute, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away. Not yet.

  She rested her elbows on the counter. "Well, that someone is wondering if anyone has called or emailed about the receptionist position."

  "The assistant position." He pulled at his collar, suddenly uncomfortable. "Haven't set up any interviews." The same truth he'd given her the last time she'd asked. A truth she would thank him for. So why the hell did he feel so guilty?

  "Dang it. I need help, and I thought there were people in this town who needed a paycheck."

  "You don't need help. You've got me." He'd gotten only one other call, but he'd told the girl to ring back in three to six weeks. She'd said something about being willing to risk the wrath of the beast, something he hadn't understood and hadn't wasted time questioning. Now an idea hit him. "I wonder if someone warned people away."

  Way to shift blame.

  "Who would do such a thing?" Her hands fisted and she grated, "Holly?"

  "We'll investigate when I return." He leaned over the counter and pressed a hard kiss to her mouth. One that said Remember me every second I'm gone.

  By the time he lifted his head, her features were luminous. He swore. If he didn't
leave now, he wouldn't leave at all. "You'll call me if Jazz corners you again?" he asked her.

  She sighed but said, "Yes."

  "All right. You better stay safe," he said. "And be ready for me when I get back. Because the first thing I'm going to do--is you."

  *

  LORD SAVE ME, Dorothea thought, her heart racing as Daniel strode out the door. That man knew how to leave her hungry for more.

  She rushed to the door to watch as his truck sped away. When his taillights vanished, she stayed in place, searching the clouds. They were soft, fluffy and white right now, but radar suggested a storm was headed this way, due to arrive tomorrow afternoon; it was supposed to be a doozy, with a high likelihood of hailstorms but only a small chance of tornadoes.

  That night, as she lay in bed with the pups, she missed Daniel like crazy. Was he missing her? She wished he would call her. Strawberry Valley had two earthquakes today. Small ones, but two glasses had broken in the kitchen. Shouldn't he wonder if she had survived?

  She already felt as if she loved him more than he loved her--not that he loved her. And that was the problem! She loved while he liked. Their relationship was imbalanced, and her uncertainties were escalating.

  In the morning, as she walked the dogs to Style Me Tender, she noticed a greenish hue in the sky. When she returned to the inn, she checked radar. The likelihood of tornadoes had gone up. A lot. As she worked, she continually checked her weather apps and by 10:00 a.m., conditions had worsened. She had an hour, maybe two, before things got superbad.

  She returned to her bedroom, worry for Daniel growing. Thankfully, the tornadic activity was localized. Strawberry Valley and the adjacent counties would be endangered while the city would receive only rain and hail.

  Next, she checked the safe room in the basement. Bottles of water? Check. A box of flashlights? Check. Blankets, a cordless radio and chairs to sit on? Check, check, check. Jazz and Charity had checked out earlier, leaving their room keys on the counter, and she had only one other guest. There was plenty of space. But not every business in the town square had a safe room, and the owners knew they were welcome here. If everyone showed up, "plenty of" would change to "barely enough," but she wasn't going to worry about that. She would rather be uncomfortable for a few hours than know someone was out there, unprotected.

  She sent a text to her sister at school--weekend classes to ensure she graduated. Weather's getting bad. Come home. I'll call the front office & check you out.

  Maybe she was being overly cautious, but her gut was shouting Be prepared.

  Holly texted her right back. Okay, yes. Yes, I'll come home.

  How agreeable, she thought with a sneer. Then she sighed. When had she become such a raging witch?

  She made the call, as promised, but it went straight to voice mail. Did no one work the front office on Saturday?

  She left a message anyway, and a few seconds after she hung up, her phone buzzed. Someone else had just come through the front door. Or exited. She checked the screen and groaned. Jazz, Charity and the rest of their crew were back.

  What now? She trudged to the lobby.

  "It's getting worse out there." Jazz wouldn't meet her gaze. "Charity and some of the crew would like to stay until the storm passes. If that's okay."

  "Sure," she said. "But what about you?"

  "I'm a storm chaser. I'll be filming."

  She looked him over. He was dressed in a shirt and jeans, not really camera ready. But then, he wasn't going to film himself.

  Excitement bloomed, and she said, "I want to go with you."

  "What? No." He shook his head. "You don't have the proper training. You could be hurt."

  "I have some training," she grated. Two semesters worth of book smarts.

  "But..." Charity glanced between them, worrying her bottom lip between her too-white teeth. "I was hoping you'd stay here, Dorothea. You can help me. The network will be cutting to me just as much as Jazz."

  "I'm going, and that's that." Daniel had suggested she film herself and stream it live, and thanks to Jude, her site was ready to go. What better time to get started? Jazz could do his filming, and she could do her own. "I just need to get my family settled in."

  At last he met her gaze. Whatever he saw in her eyes convinced him to agree. "You have twenty minutes before I head out. If you're not ready, I leave without you."

  "Thank you." She called her mom, who was at a book club meeting at the Rhinestone Cowgirl. She didn't waste time with pleasantries. "Come home and bring the other ladies with you. And bring Virgil, Anthony and the dogs. Looks like we're gonna have ourselves a twister."

  "Are you sure? We have storms all the time. I bet this one will pass, too, and we'll--"

  "Now! And hurry."

  Took a little over twenty minutes for everyone to arrive, but Jazz waited. The wind had really kicked up, whistling as it hit the sides of the building. Dorothea gathered the supplies she'd need, filling a large black duffel bag.

  "Stay here," she told the masses. "Do not leave." She placed her laptop on a shelf, the screen already set to her webpage, where she would be streaming the feed she captured on her phone. "I'll keep you updated."

  Her mom wrung her hands. "Are you sure you should be going out there?"

  "Daniel would not be pleased, young lady," Virgil said.

  She kissed her mom's cheek, then Virgil's. "I'll be fine, promise. But this is something I've always wanted to do, and I'll be with a...professional." Besides, Daniel would encourage her to live her dream. Right?

  She experienced a tendril of unease. Stay safe, he'd told her. Meaning stay put?

  Did it matter? Even if he had issued a flat-out command, so what? Her days of people pleasing were over. Amen.

  As she strode to the exit, Holly stepped into her path. "Don't leave. Please, Dot--Dorothea."

  Last week she would have been so eager to earn back her sister's affections, she would have done whatever the girl asked. Today? Not so much.

  "I'll be back," she muttered, and stepped around the girl.

  Jazz was in the lobby, peering out the door. Other storm chasers from other networks would be out there, of course, but they wouldn't know the terrain like she did.

  When she sidled up to Jazz, readying her phone, he said, "Are you sure you want to do this? The danger...my liability--"

  "I'm sure." She almost added, "My middle name is Danger," but decided she'd sound like a dork, so she kept her mouth closed.

  Thump, thump, thump. Clink, clink. The hail had begun to fall.

  "The doors are unlocked," he said. "All you have to do is jump in."

  His van--with shatterproof windows--was waiting under the portico, she realized.

  "You ready?" he asked.

  "Ready."

  He raced outside, and she followed. Her hair whipped from its knot and slapped her cheeks. The cold and the wet hit her full force, nearly knocking her off her feet, but she kept going.

  When she made it to the vehicle, her relief was short-lived. She couldn't get the door open; the wind was too great. Jazz had to help her from the inside. Teeth chattering, clothes plastered to her body, she buckled in.

  "Not too late to stay here," he said as he studied the storm in the distance.

  And let him hog all the glory? No!

  One fact became very clear. He'd never believed in her.

  But Daniel did.

  "Is that your way of saying you're scared?" she asked.

  He looked at her, aghast. "No."

  "Then shut up and drive."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  DANIEL TOOK ANOTHER stroll around the Michaelson Hotel ballroom. Despite the elegance of gilt mirrors, white columns and a freshly polished marble floor, the place lacked the inn's intrinsic charm. But then, he had a feeling no place on earth would ever compare to the inn. His home.

  He was beginning to feel like a normal person. Someone who could maintain a stable relationship long-term. He was sleeping at night. He could hear a
loud noise without freaking out. And he could almost--almost--believe Thea would stay with him, through good times and bad.

  He wanted their relationship to last.

  He should have called her when he'd first arrived in the city. Then he should have called before he'd gone to bed last night. Hell, he should have called her this morning. Like an idiot, he'd tried to temper his feelings for her.

  Things with her were good. Very good. Almost too good.

  In his experience, trouble always struck at Too Good O'clock.

  Concentrate. You're on a job. The morning gala had bled into a silent auction and lunch buffet, which would ultimately bleed into an evening party. The ballroom was already crammed with people. Everyone was decked out in formal wear, the women sparkling with precious gems, and the men in tuxes. Even Daniel wore a tux, and the tie was about to choke him, but he kept his hands at his sides, ready to grab a weapon, if necessary.

  Ten minutes stretched into thirty and thirty into an hour. A storm erupted outside. Many of the guests pulled out their phones to check the latest news. Thunder boomed, and hail began to beat at the windows.

  "Daniel, we've got a problem." Jude's voice spilled through the bud in his ear. "Your dad couldn't reach you, so he called me."

  Jude was in one of the hotel's lavish rooms, watching everything from a makeshift wall of screens. Daniel had turned off his phone the moment he'd gone on duty.

  He missed a step. "Is he okay?"

  "He's fine. He and the dogs are in the basement at the inn. Dorothea has gone out with Jazz, chasing the storm. I've sent a link to you. It's the website I created for her. She's streaming."

  Chasing the storm? What. The. Hell.

  "That's not all," Jude said, his voice nothing but doom and gloom. "Power lines are down in Strawberry Valley, and cell towers are clogged. I lost touch with your dad."

  Daniel spoke into his wrist mic. "Brock--"

  "Yep. Heard. You go do what you gotta do, my man. We've got you covered here."

  Daniel rushed into the hallway leading to the lobby and whipped out his phone. He followed the link, and after several tries, he was able to log on to see video footage of the storm. A dark sky, black with shades of green. Rain and hail the size of golf balls poured, the trees whipping in the wind, limbs breaking. One tree was even uprooted; it danced across the terrain like a tumbleweed.

  In the background, he heard Thea shouting, explaining what was happening. A loud roar had kicked up, as if a freight train was headed straight for her.