Brokenhearted Beauty(Divine Creek Ranch 19)(10)

Vincent poured her a glass of iced tea and then showed her to one of the barstools at the kitchen island, the one between theirs, James noted with a little smile. His brother pulled a platter filled with catfish filets, hushpuppies, and French fries from the oven and put spoons in the bowls of pinto beans and green bean salad on the bar. James smiled when he saw the green beans, knowing it was his mother’s secret recipe.

“My mouth is watering,” Leah said as she settled on the barstool and admired the spread.

Vincent smiled and James could see the heat in his eyes as he looked directly at her. “Mine, too.”



* * * *



Leah glanced up at Vincent’s quiet reply and wondered at the way he looked at her, and at the fact that they’d invited her out to their house. Scratch that. Their huge log cabin. She must’ve been out of her mind to accept the invitation with no notice but she’d gone anyway.

There was something about the way James had asked her to come out, with his heart in his words, understanding that she might refuse. He was always a softer touch than either Vincent or Patterson—

She cleared her throat and took a sip of the iced tea, which was laced perfectly with real cane sugar. She had to cut thoughts like that off before they had a chance to snowball and resulted in her breaking down.

Don Williams crooned “Till the Rivers All Run Dry” on the satellite radio station in the living room, distracting her but not in a good way. It was another favorite of Patterson’s which meant it was best not to linger over it.

The meal was quiet and mostly relaxed, with her offering compliments about the food and growing ever more aware of the distractingly masculine presence of her hosts. Both men were a couple of inches shy of six feet tall, but at five feet tall, they still towered over her and made her feel secure and protected, despite her unwillingness to acknowledge that. There had always been something that she’d thought of as a little wild and reckless in Patterson but she’d never felt anything but safe with him—

Don Williams sang on and she said, “Is there any way we could change the music? Something different? Newer?”

“Sure, doll,” Vincent said, and lifted the remote from the counter and selected a different station without a word, though he cast a searching glance her way.

Fearing a confrontation of some kind was at the heart of their invitation, Leah’s heart quickened its pace as the meal drew to a close. Vincent rose from his seat and lifted his plate and she pulled back slightly as he reached for hers. She glanced up at him and caught the way his eyebrows furrowed as he made eye contact with her.

“I’m not going to bite you, doll.”

She shrugged and tried for nonchalance. “I didn’t think that at all.”

“Then why are you so jumpy?” he asked as he took the dishes to the kitchen sink, which was filled with soapy water. She noted how clean the kitchen was already, not piled with dirty pots and pans. A mess to clean up might’ve made for a nice distraction.

“Honey?” James asked, laying a hand on her shoulder and startling her in the process. “You are jumpy. You have nothing to fear from either of us.”

“It’s not fear. Not really,” she said quietly as she rose from her seat and looked for her purse which was all the way across the house on the table by the door. “Thank you for the meal, guys. It was delicious.”

Vincent shook his head as he returned from the sink and she saw the determined set of his square jaw. Did he know how sexy he was, with those bedroom eyes and that neatly trimmed beard and cleft chin? A tremor rippled inside her and she couldn’t help the spear of arousal that darted through her lower regions at the purpose in his gaze. She evidently had a thing for very determined men because he certainly looked the part as he strode over to her.

“Not so fast, fluff.” Of the two men, he was the more assertive one and it was showing.

She froze in midstep and the change in her was like zero to sixty. Or rather, sixty to subzero.

“Don’t call me that.” Her voice was barely a whisper and she wasn’t even sure they heard her.

“Don’t call you what? Fluff?” Vincent asked as he came toe-to-toe with her. He caressed her jaw and she couldn’t look away from him as the pain lanced through her chest. The only person to call her that had been Patterson. He’d used it the last time he’d visited her at the store, the day of the accident. Vincent followed the direction she’d looked in earlier, correctly surmising her exit strategy. “You’re not leaving yet. We’ve barely gotten started.”

“Vincent,” James murmured, disapproval in his tone. He crowded in and she was surprised when he cupped her cheeks and his thumbs stroked hot tears from her face. His heart was in his eyes. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the sob locked tight inside of her. “He doesn’t mean to be pushy, honey. We need to talk to you. This stalemate—the way things are between us right now—we want to get beyond it. The only way to do that is to talk about it.”