Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday woke again from the same nightmare that haunted her sleep ever since she’d curled up in the armoire in Dalton’s garage.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she blinked away the remnants of the dream, heavy with shadows and fear.
Slowly, she wiped the sleep from her eyes and let her gaze settle on the room around her.
Soft light filtering through the curtains, the faint scent of worn leather and cologne lingering in the air.
This was Texas’s bedroom. This was his bed. She was safe here.
Tugging the blankets up around her shoulders, Sunday reminded herself she was indeed in St. Tite—safe—and there was a man watching over her. A man who had kissed her with a mix of tenderness and desperation that still lingered on her lips.
She shoved off the mattress, a shiver running through her as the cold air of the room wrapped around her skin. The chill made her wince, pulling her back to the stark reality outside the warmth of the bed.
Shivering, she pulled her feet back under the covers, seeking the warmth that fled from the cold room. Across the way, the fire in the wood-burning stove had burned low, its orange embers glowing weakly but no longer casting enough heat to chase away the chill.
Rubbing her arms to chase off the cold, Sunday swung her legs over the side of the bed and hurried toward the stove, desperation pushing her forward as the room’s icy grip tightened around her.
Standing on the worn rug in front of the stove, Sunday grabbed the black iron poker resting nearby and quickly stoked the embers back to life. The faint crackle and sparks brought a flicker of warmth to the room and to her thoughts.
As she shifted her weight from foot to foot, memories from her childhood drifted through her mind like whispers—faint but persistent, echoing from a time when safety felt more certain.
“Make sure you block it up to keep the embers smoldering, then add kindling.” Sunday couldn’t remember who had taught her that, but the words came back clearly. She dug through the ash with the fire poker until she uncovered more glowing embers hidden beneath the gray dust.
Carefully, she picked up a few slender pieces of wood and nestled them into the belly of the stove. With gentle stokes, she coaxed the embers back to life, watching as small flames began to flicker. Once the kindling caught, she added two larger logs, settling them into the growing heat.
Before Sunday could fully settle by the stove, a voice broke the silence—low, amused, and tinged with curiosity.
“What are you doing?”
The sound of a man’s voice made Sunday stumble, her feet tangling beneath her until she tumbled backward onto the cold wooden floor.
Looking up, her breath caught. The man standing in the doorway wasn’t Texas.
Panic surged as she scrambled backward, eyes wide, heart hammering. He didn’t look friendly—far from it.
Clause’s glare was hard, the kind that told Sunday she wasn’t supposed to be here.
“I’m a friend of Texas,” he said gruffly, his eyes flicking over the girl with her big blue eyes and tangled blonde hair. She wore nothing but a man’s long-sleeved t-shirt, vulnerable and out of place.
Without a word, Clause grabbed a quilt from the blanket rack and brought it over to her. He stood silent, watching as fear flickered across her face. When she hesitated, he held the quilt out a moment longer, waiting for her to take it.
“Thank you,” Sunday murmured, clutching the quilt as she studied the man. Her eyes darted around, silently pleading for Texas to appear in the doorway. But the room remained empty.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Clause,” he replied, his tone rough but steady. “I’m Ange’s older brother. He didn’t tell me he was home or that he brought… you with him.”
The way Clause said “you” made Sunday’s stomach tighten. Coming here suddenly felt like a mistake. Clearly Texas’s family wasn’t thrilled about her being here. Or maybe it was something else. Like the fact she was in a house he’d once shared with his late wife.
“I don’t know why he didn’t tell you,” Sunday said softly, shrugging as if trying to shrug off the unease. “Maybe he felt like he didn’t have to.”
Clause grunted an unintelligible sound as he gestured for Sunday to get off the cold floor.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway behind him, drawing his attention. A slow smile spread across his face.
“Texas,” Clause called out, “you’ve got a scared mouse in your bedroom.”
Texas had spotted Clause’s truck in the driveway and hurried from the barn, hoping his brother wouldn’t frighten Sunday. But seeing Clause standing inside his bedroom, he realized he hadn’t been quick enough.
“Clause, why are you making noise in my place?” Texas demanded, shoving his brother aside as he rushed to Sunday’s side.
Seeing her on the floor ignited a flare of anger inside him. “Why are you on the floor?”
Annoyed but gentle, he knelt down and helped her up, carefully wrapping the quilt around her shoulders.
“Are you okay?” he asked, leaning back just enough to meet her eyes, searching for any sign she wasn’t.
For a split second, Sunday stared up into his light hazel eyes. A shiver rippled through her and she wasn’t sure if it was from the smoldering intensity of his gaze or the fact she was standing there in barely anything.
For that brief moment, she forgot about Clause standing silently just behind them, the room shrinking down to only the two of them.
“I tripped over my feet. I’m fine,” Sunday said quickly, eager to ease the moment.
Texas would bet his last dollar that Clause’s gravelly voice and gruff demeanor had scared her more than anything else.
“Clause, why don’t you go put on some coffee for us?” Texas suggested, shooting his brother a pointed look.
Clause smirked, unfazed. “How about you introduce me to your friend first?”
So, it was going to be a pissing match between the brothers. Texas kept his hand steady on Sunday’s shoulder, grounding her as she found her balance. His eyes locked with hers, offering a sympathetic smirk—a silent promise that he had her back.
Stepping aside, he turned to Clause and made the introductions.
“Sunday Mornin’, this is my brother, Clause.”
“Nice to meet you, Clause,” Sunday said, staying close to Texas as his brother scrutinized her with a sharp gaze.
“You should get her some warmer nightclothes, Texas,” Clause said gruffly. “This old house is drafty, and the nights have been dipping into the forties. But you wouldn’t know that since you’ve been off gallivanting around on your bike.”
“Clause. Kitchen. Coffee. Now!” Texas snapped, punctuating each word like a warning, fully aware he was pressing his brother’s buttons.
Not waiting for Clause to respond, Texas turned his full attention back to Sunday.
“Sorry about him. He’s overprotective and thinks I’m reckless and still a child.”
Sunday gave a small, sincere smile. “I don’t think you’re a child.”
Texas snapped his head toward his brother, glaring. “Clause!”
When Texas looked back, Sunday was staring up at him. Their eyes locked, and the pull from those soft blue depths drew him in like a magnet. He closed his eyes briefly, centering himself. The desperate urge to kiss her hovered just beneath the surface, but he held back.
He kept reminding himself she needed time. Time to heal. Sunday didn’t need him climbing all over her, not yet.
It had been the gentle rhythm of her soft snoring, her head and hand resting lightly on his bare chest that made him quietly slip out of bed in the early morning hours.
As the sound of Clause’s footsteps faded down the hall, Texas smiled softly at Sunday. Leaning down, he waited until she tipped her face up, then kissed her gently on the lips.
Stepping back, he gave her space to get dressed before anything stupid happened. Something that didn’t need to happen—especially with his brother in the house.
“Why don’t you get dressed? When you’re ready, come to the kitchen.” Texas said softly before turning and heading toward his damn brother.
“I already tended the fire in the living room,” Clause called after him as he stepped into the kitchen. “Sorry if I scared your friend. You should’ve called me.”
Clause paused, turning to look at Texas as he began making the coffee again. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Texas stepped closer and took the coffee pot from Clause’s hands. “Let me handle that. You always make it too strong.”
Clause narrowed his eyes. “You’re avoiding my question.”
Texas continued filling the coffee carafe, not avoiding his brother’s questions. He just didn’t want to have that conversation yet, and definitely not one-on-one. He wanted everyone involved, all at once.
“I didn’t call anyone,” he said simply.
Sunday stood just outside the kitchen doorway, catching the rising tension between the brothers. Not wanting Texas to bear the brunt of it alone, she cleared her throat and stepped inside.
“He wasn’t sure what to say,” she offered gently, easing into the room.
Texas and Clause both turned toward Sunday, surprised to find her already in the room. Before either man could speak, she stepped further inside.
“I was supposed to stay with my sister in Montreal,” Sunday said, moving around the table to stand beside Texas.
She reached around him, turning off the running water and taking charge of the coffee-making. “I got this,” she said with a small smile.
Shooing the brothers aside with a gentle wave, she poured water into the back of the coffee pot, scooped out the grounds, and set the filter. Closing the lid, she pressed the brew button and turned back to them.
“My sister’s a traveling nurse,” she explained, “and had to leave for a six-week assignment. Texas was kind enough to offer me a place to stay until she gets back.”
“How do you two know each other?” Clause asked, leaning against the kitchen table.
Sunday glanced at Texas before answering. “I know a friend of your brother’s. Texas knew I needed a ride to Montreal.”
Texas cut her off quickly. “Sunday was stranded in New London.” He didn’t want Clause to know she’d been in Sudbury. The less his family knew about his movements, the better.
Pulling out a chair, Texas sat down, leaned back on the two rear legs, and waited, watching carefully to see what would unfold next.
Sunday turned her gaze back to Clause, forcing a tight smile.
“I have a question for you, Clause.”
When Clause looked at her, the smile faded. After Texas had left her alone, Sunday realized how rude it had been for his brother to barge into the bedroom unannounced.
“Why did you come into the bedroom without knocking or announcing yourself?” Sunday demanded, her voice steady despite the heat rising in her cheeks. “You saw me standing by the wood-burning stove, half-naked. I’d think a decent man would have more respect.”
She caught the flicker of shock on Clause’s face and didn’t care if she pissed him off.
Something about being at the farmhouse with Texas was stirring a part of her she hadn’t felt in a long time—her old self. And she wasn’t about to keep cowering.
There would always be strangers around, but she couldn’t live in fear, convinced every man wanted to hurt her.
It hadn’t been a stranger who had drugged, beaten, raped her, and left her to die in a ravine. No. It had been someone she once trusted. Someone she believed cared for her, at least in the beginning.
Leaning against the counter, Sunday waited silently for Clause to explain himself.
She avoided Texas’s gaze, knowing full well the damn man was snickering at his older brother.
“I was looking for this idiot,” Clause grumbled, nodding toward Texas, “and got caught off guard seeing a woman in his bedroom. I thought you’d broken in or mistaken his place for our Airbnb.”
“Did you see a broken window or a busted lock?” Sunday asked sharply.
“No, but…”
“Did you find the hide-a-key missing? Or are you just in the habit of leaving the doors wide open?”
“No, but…”
“So, what you’re saying is you were just being nosey and wanted to see who the woman riding on the back of his bike was.”
“How would I know he had a woman on the back of his bike?”
“Oh, please. St. Tite’s small. I’m sure someone saw us and called the main house.”
She had him there. “Fine. He hasn’t brought a woman to this house since he bought it two years ago. The whole family wanted to know who he had with him, and my mood is due to me drawing the short straw.”
Clause smirked. “Now, don’t you feel better getting that off your chest?”
Texas dropped the chair back down with a thud after hearing his brother’s words.
“Clause, why don’t you head to Mom and Dad’s and let them know we’ll be over shortly? And I expect breakfast since I’m bringing a guest.”
“This should be good,” Clause mumbled, heading for the door.
“I thought he’d stay for coffee,” Sunday said, leaning back and watching Clause walk to his truck through the kitchen window.
She heard Texas laughing and joined him.
Texas shook his head with a smile. “Come here, sweetheart.”
She took a few steps over, and he patted his lap.
“You’re feisty this morning,” he said before pulling her into a kiss.
Reluctantly, he broke the kiss. “Don’t think you can pull that crap with me.”
With a wink, he kissed her again.