“Maybe not, but I wasn’t able to stay away, either. Why do you think I was out in the woods the night Lyle was killed?” He picked up one of her hands, turning it over and rubbing the scarred flesh of her wrist with his thumb. “You …”
“In the hospital, without Valentine, I didn’t want to live. I think Scott didn’t shoot us because he wanted us to die a slow, painful death, but the bastard didn’t have the courage to do it himself. I locked myself in the bathroom and slit my wrists with a razor I stole from a male patient’s room next to mine. A nurse found me in time, and they managed to save me.”
“Are you still suicidal?” No one would ever accuse a Porter of being tactful.
“No, I received counseling and the support of the domestic violence group that helped rescue me.” She gave him an ironic smile. “It didn’t take long for my mountain blood to kick back in. I decided to live just to spite Scott. It wasn’t much of a reason to keep living, but then I began helping other abused women. I put them in contact with those who could help, plastic surgeons to repair physical damage that is a constant reminder of the abuse they suffered.” She ran a finger down her perfectly shaped nose. “The worst thing is to be reminded every time you look in a mirror.”
“I’m thankful they were there for you.” Tate lifted her hand to his mouth, his lips delicately brushing the scars on her wrist.
“I don’t give Scott any power over me any longer, but my wedding band reminds me not to trust in my heart ever again. It’s let me down two times.”
“Your heart didn’t let you down; the men you loved did,” Tate said. “I can’t change the past. I would give my own life to bring back your daughter for you, but I can’t. I can only prove I’ll be there for you from now on.”
Sutton pulled away from him, tugging her hand out of his firm grip. “I’m not going to give you or any other man another chance. I’m finally content with my life.”
“You might have a million reasons not to trust me when I tell you I want to start over with you.”
Sutton shook her head. There was no way she would have a relationship with Tate. He might crack the wall she had created around her heart to protect it.
“Don’t say ‘no’ yet. We’ll take it slow. I’ll even let you set the rules.”
She stared at him doubtfully. Tate letting a woman be in control was beyond his capability.
He grinned at her expression then stood and reached down to pull her to her feet.
“You might have a million reasons not to trust me, but I only need one chance to prove you wrong.” He lifted her into his arms.
“Tate, put me down! You can’t carry me down this mountain. You’re too weak. You’ll fall!”
He buried his face in her neck and she slid her arms around his neck, careful not to press against the wound on his chest.
“Your heart is telling you to give me a chance … Look where we are, Sutton.”
She gazed around her, and it took her only a moment to realize where they were. It was the exact spot where they used to meet when they were teenagers, where they would lie on the old quilt and talk about their future.
Like a wounded animal, she had unconsciously sought the place she had found her greatest happiness, feeling safe in Tate’s arms.
Her heart was telling her what her mind wouldn’t accept: she was going to give him another chance.
Chapter 16
“You’re cheating,” Sutton accused him.
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You said we could move at my speed. You walking around the house half-naked is cheating.”
Tate gave her a saccharine smile. “It’s hot.”
Sutton couldn’t disagree with him. He was hot, and his body awakened desires she hadn’t felt in years, reminding her she was still a flesh-and-blood woman. She unconsciously licked her bottom lip when she noticed the growing bulge in his jeans.
Tate was leaning back on the kitchen counter, drinking a beer, wearing jeans that fell to his hip bones. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, which showed off his broad shoulders. The man was rock-hard. He didn’t have a six-pack; he was too muscular for that.
The sexual tension was building, every time she came in contact with him, the hair on her arms would stand up from the electric charge that passed between them.
“Want a sip?”
“No, thanks.”
“I thought, from the way you were staring, you wanted some.”
Sutton gritted her teeth. The man was too experienced not to know that she was attracted, just like a cat wanting catnip.
“If I want one, I’ll get one all by myself,” she taunted.
“Really? Can I watch?”
“Sure.” Sutton walked to the fridge, taking out a beer and popping the top. Taking a drink, her eyes met Tate’s. The tension between them escalated with the deliberate challenge in her gaze.
Tate slammed his beer down on the counter then made a sudden move toward her.
Her desire died as she took a step back.
Tate stopped a few feet away from her, his chest heaving as his hands clenched at his sides.
“Sassy pants, I can take the teasing, but I can’t take the fear. I would never hurt you. I would give you my rifle to shoot me if I ever did.”
Her body relaxed against the counter. “I believe you.”
“You better.” He slowly walked closer, placing a hand on each side of her on the counter, pinning her in place. “I’m not going to rush you. You deserve to be courted and made to feel special.”
“You’re not exactly a man I would take for being patient.”
Tate gave her a seductive look. “I’m very patient.”
A nervous laugh escaped her as she placed her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back. “I need to cook dinner. Go into the living room and finish your beer.”
Tate was turning to head that way when a knock sounded on the kitchen window at her back.
“Are your brothers ever going to come to the front door?” She stared at Greer who was gawking at her from the other side of the glass.
“I think he and Dustin are getting a kick with all the sneaking around. Don’t spoil their fun.”
“I’d rather kick them in the ass.” Sutton pushed the window up higher so Greer could clamor inside. “Don’t knock anything over,” she sneered at him.
She quickly moved the crockpot of beans she had spent the day cooking, if the big goof knocked them over, she would knock him over the head with the pan of fried potatoes sitting on the stove.
“Do I smell soup beans?” Greer sniffed the air, his feet still hanging from the window. “And cornbread?”
“No,” Sutton lied. Deliberately, she reached out, tugging his feet loose.
“Wait …” Greer fell to the floor and glared up at her.
“Sorry.”
“I bet.” Greer stood, picking up his baseball cap from the floor and placing it back on his head. “Woman, you have a vicious streak, but I can deal with it if you give me a bowl of those beans.”
Sutton raised a brow, remaining still.
Greer sighed. “I came by to tell you there’s been another shooting in town.”
“Anyone hurt?” Tate asked sharply.
“No, but Rider has a big hole in his helmet.”
“Rider? He gave me a ride home the night I went out with Cheryl,” Sutton butted into the conservation. “Is he okay?”
“You gonna give me a bowl of them beans?”
Before she could tell Greer where she would shove those beans, Tate answered her.
“He’s fine. The son of a bitch is a Last Rider, and they each have nine lives.”
“Thank God he wasn’t hurt.” Then another thought occurred to her. “When did it happen?”
“A couple of hours ago. Knox, his deputies, and the state police are swarming all over town, trying to find Tate.”
“He couldn’t have done it. He’s been here with me the whole time.”
“Whoever is doing the shootings doesn’t know I’m here with you, or they would have waited for you to go into town,” Tate stated.
“Is that good or bad?” Sutton asked, going to the oven to take out the cornbread. Lifting the heavy, cast-iron skillet, she placed it on the stove.
“Bad. It means either the fucker is getting ready to leave town, or …”
“Or?”
“He’s about to escalate the attacks.”
Sutton gave Tate a worried glance. “Knox said he would come back and arrest you if one more person was hurt.”
“Knox knows Tate didn’t do it. A witness gave a description of someone smaller than Tate running away down an alley.”
“Then Tate’s in the clear?”
“Not just yet. Knox sent the message to keep low. The state police aren’t exactly willing to remove Tate from their suspect list, and they said the two killings might not be connected to Rider. They sent the bullet off to the state lab. It’s going to be a few days before they can say if it’s from the same gun that killed Helen Stevens.”
Greer reached out to pinch off a large chunk of cornbread and popped it into his mouth. “Damn, I haven’t had cornbread that good since Ma died.”
“Have a seat at the table, and I’ll fix you a plate.” Sutton ignored Tate’s amused gaze as she turned to the cabinet to take out plates and bowls.