CHAPTER 27
Frankie
“I’ll never find the kind of happy ever after my brothers got…”
Something about his statement hits me hard. Special K’s got his own secrets, it seems.
But how sad that he’s already ruled out his own future happiness. That he doesn’t leave room for something unexpectedly good to enter his life. I wonder why he’s done that? Why he thinks he doesn’t deserve good things?
I nearly laugh when it occurs to me—that’s what I’ve done.
I’ve convinced myself that for the rest of my life, I’ll be paying for the biggest mistake I’ve ever made—Niko Koslov.
And because I fell for him, there’s no room for anything good in my future.
All I have to look forward to is a life on the run.
Well, whad’ya know?
It seems the stripper and the cowboy have more in common than it appears. We’ve both given up on our own happiness.
“All right, Boots. Your turn. No more stalling.”
I straighten. “My turn for what?”
“To tell me what you really do for a living. I see you’re skilled at chatting up people, so it’s obvious you’re a wonderful bartender. But I have a feeling that’s just a small part of the story.”
I jump up from the chair. “Thank you for dinner. Thank you for everything.” I throw off the blanket and immediately realize how ridiculous I am. It's not like I can hop in my Toyota and drive home after a lovely first date.
And it’s dark. It won’t be safe for Special K to make his way down the mountain until daylight.
“It’s okay, Frankie,” he says, his voice gentle. “I’ll help you get your bed set up and I’ll sleep out here by the fire. I do it all the time. I like sleeping outside, even prefer it.”
I nod.
He stands. “Again, I know I shouldn’t have kissed you the way I did. It won’t happen again. Please know that you’re always safe with me, okay? You have my word.”
I gaze up at him. His intense eyes shimmer in the firelight. A small, sad smile touches his lips.
Why do I feel on the verge of tears? On the verge of spilling my guts to him?
I’ve got to stay in control here and focus on what I must do, not what I want to do. Because I want to jump in Special K’s arms and beg him to never let me go.
But I must leave. I have to keep moving to stay alive.
It would be stupid to mistake extreme sexual attraction for some kind of deeper connection.
And above all else, I can never—ever—drag Special K MacLaine into the hellish mess I’ve made of my life. Especially now that I know the amazing members of his family.
If I pull him into my drama, the lives of every single MacLaine will be in danger. Kids, widows, wives, patriarchs, and ranch staff. Niko will be more than happy to wipe out everyone and everything to get to me.
He’ll take on all five SEAL brothers, too, and he won’t stop until there’s not a living thing left for miles.
“Here.” Special K puts Pussy in my arms. “I’ll get everything ready.”
I stand there like an idiot—a lost and confused idiot—fighting back tears and cradling Pussy. I’m usually pretty sure of myself, but tonight, alone with my favorite cowboy SEAL, I feel conflicted, sliced up by circumstance.
He steps inside and turns on two lanterns. They cast a golden glow throughout the interior of the cabin.
I watch him work. So big and graceful. Each movement with a purpose, nothing wasted.
I see how the muscles ripple in his huge neck above the collar of his jean jacket.
I notice how smoothly he drops to his hands and knees to put the sheets on my new bed, and how efficiently he slips the pillows inside their cases.
By the way he moves, it’s obvious he would be an incredible lover. But I’ll never know for sure. I can’t.
He returns to the fire circle, grabs my camp chair and blanket, and takes both inside for me. Then he’s at my side once more.
“You okay, Boots?”
I glance up at him and nod. Then I look away and shake my head, but immediately nod again. And I know I’m not fooling anyone.
Least of all a man who lets nothing get past him.
“Tell me, Frankie. Your story is safe with me, too.” He crosses his arms over his chest and waits.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out but a squeak.
“Enough,” he whispers. He grips my upper arms in his hands and turns me to face him. “What the fuck are you doing up here? How much trouble are you in?”
“I can’t. I just can’t. I’m so sorry.” I head toward the cabin, then turn around in the doorway to find that he’s right where I left him, backlit by the fire. Part of me wants him to pay no attention to my protests and just take what he wants, because it’s what I want, too.
The other part of me wants him to walk away right this second, leaving me to my misery and removing all the temptation I’m wrestling with. Because I know that if he stays, I’ll soon be too exhausted and frightened to keep fighting it.
“Thank you, Special K,” I say, my voice sounding as raw as my heart feels. “I know I’ve been all over the map with you, but I appreciate your kindness and all you’ve done for me. I’ll leave in the morning and be out of your hair.”
“Wait.”
I keep the door cracked and peer out at him. His face is shadowed with sorrow. “I’m extremely resourceful, Boots. No matter what kind of trouble it is, I can help.”
I shake my head. “You can’t. Not with this. There isn’t anyone who can help me with this.”
He tips his head and scowls. “I’m not just anyone.”
I find myself smiling, despite everything. He’s right. Special K MacLaine is not just anyone. He’s like no one I’ve ever met. In fact, I wasn’t sure men like him existed. But it doesn’t matter. The timing is all wrong.
I open the crack a bit wider, my hand gripping the edge of the door. “Please walk away.”
“I won’t do that.”
“Special K, I just heard all about what a lovely family you have. Please, I’m begging you. Go back to them and forget you ever met me. It’s the smart thing to do.”
“Boots—”
“Goodnight.”
I close the door behind me, spin around, and collapse against the rough boards, gasping for air.
I cock my ear to listen. I hear the clunk of a log on the campfire and the sound of Special K unloading the rest of the storage containers from the trailer and placing them against the front of the cabin.
Which means he either doesn’t believe that I’m leaving, or he’s simply preparing for any contingency. He strikes me as the contingency sort of dude, so that’s what I settle on.
He’s one hell of a stubborn man. He refuses to walk away, but he has no idea what that means. No idea how radioactive I am. If he did, he’d run until he was safely out of the blast area. It’s selfish of me not to force him to put as much distance as possible between us.
Force him? Has anyone ever forced that man to do anything?
Pussy jumps from my grasp and starts pawing at the door to get back outside.
“Mrraaaooow!”
“I know,” I whisper. “I want him, too.”
“Meeeeewww!”
“I can’t, girlfriend. I can’t let it happen.”
“Raaaaaooorrr!”
“We can’t always get what we want, as Mick Jagger says.”
I glance over at the bed, and out of nowhere, the dam breaks. Tears roll down my face. Tears of loneliness and regret. And gratitude. I’m in awe that someone—a stranger—would treat me with this level of care and kindness.
In the golden glow of the lantern light, the bed looks like something I’d see in a five-star resort hotel. Decadent. Pure luxury compared to the cold, bumpy, and uncomfortable options I’ve dealt with the last few nights, either in the back of my SUV or on the busted-up old sofa.
I turn to the fireplace to find that Special K has already arranged kindling and wood, so all I have to do is click the lighter to get it started. Immediately, heat enters the cabin and pushes away the chill.
I take off the hiking boots and shorts and crawl under the plush softness of the flannel sheets and down blanket, Special K’s wool sweater is the only thing I’m wearing.
Relaxing back into the sumptuous mattress, I sigh and throw a bent arm over my eyes. I told Special K that I’m leaving in the morning. And since I really need to go, I will. I may not have a destination, but at least I can get on the road. Get out of Nevada.
“Mrrrp.” I reach over and remove Pussy’s harness and leash. She crawls in bed with me, equally relieved to have a soft, warm nest to snuggle inside. She immediately begins to purr.
I don’t. My mind is a jumble of troubled thoughts.
For the first time in many, many years, I wish I could go home. I wish it was possible for me to walk right into the back room of Poker Face Pub & Grub, where The Protectors hold their meetings, and tell my grandfather that I need help.
As I well know, that’s no longer an option for me. I burnt that bridge a long time ago.