“Vic’s out looking for Sara,” Jace said. He tossed the apple core into my trash can and held both fists up in victory. I rolled my eyes. Guys may get bigger, but they never really grow up.
“Yeah, I heard.” I pulled away from Ethan, rolling my head on my shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had been building since the moment I’d smelled the stray on campus. It didn’t work, but it did give me a pretty good crick in my neck. “What about Parker?”
“He’s around,” Ethan said. “Marc has him out playing foot soldier.”
“On our own property?” My eyebrows arched in surprise as I rubbed my neck. Then the implication sank in, and my hand fell into my lap, my discomfort temporarily forgotten. “Daddy must be really spooked by all this.”
Ethan and Owen exchanged looks, but I wasn’t fast enough to interpret them before their expressions were gone. Something else was up, but they weren’t talking. Wonderful. I hate secrets I’m not in on.
“We better go,” Owen said, shooting Ethan a stern look. “We’re supposed to help Parker.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Ethan mumbled, pulling himself off the bed with one hand wrapped around the corner post.
Owen slapped him on the shoulder and shoved him toward the door, turning back to look at me from the threshold. “We’re going huntin’ later, if you wanna come.”
“We’ll see,” I said, careful not to commit myself. I loved hunting, and he knew it. But if I appeared too eager to go, they might think I was glad to be home, and I certainly couldn’t have a dangerous rumor like that floating around unchecked.
Owen gave me a leisurely, knowing smile and disappeared into the hallway. I listened until I heard the back door slam shut, then turned to look at Jace.
He smiled back at me from my desk chair, showing no inclination to leave. Big surprise. I considered kicking him out so I could pout in private, but then he turned those bright blue eyes on me—the playful sparkle mingling seamlessly with a hint of that earlier heat—and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kick him out and watch the light fade from his eyes.Instead, I returned his smile, running my hand over the bed to smooth out wrinkles I didn’t really mind in the first place.
Jace leaned back in my desk chair, his Kentucky Wildcats T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders. He was descended from the original Kentucky wildcat, which, of course, was more than just a mascot. “Don’t be mad at me,” he said. “None of this was my idea.”
“I know.” I tilted my head to the left, still trying to work out the muscle cramp. “You can stay. Until you start to bore me.”
“Why, thank you, Your Highness.” He stood to perform a deep, highly sarcastic bow. But instead of returning to the chair, he sat down behind me on the bed, brushing my hand away from my neck. Careful not to tug, he gathered my hair and laid it over my shoulder, then began massaging my neck at the base of my skull.
His touch was firm and warm, and his fingers moved with confidence, seeking the tensest muscles. I moaned with relief, then stiffened and flushed from embarrassment. Jace only laughed and rubbed harder until I relaxed again.
“So, how ya doin’, kid?” he asked, moving down to work on my shoulders.
“Not too bad, for a prisoner.”
He chuckled, sounding distinctly unsympathetic. “Could be worse.”
“How?”
“You could be a hostage.”
I huffed, plucking imaginary fuzz from my comforter as he moved lower, kneading the muscles between my shoulder blades through the thin cotton of my shirt. “At least a hostage has hope of a ransom.”
His hands hesitated for a moment, his breath stirring my hair as he sighed. “Your dad’s only trying to do what’s best.”
“For whom?” I pulled away, turning to half face him.
“For everyone.”
“What’s good for the gander isn’t always good for the goose, Jace,” I said, resorting to a mutilated cliché. It didn’t help. He couldn’t understand. Tomcats were immune to my particular plight, a fact I’d envied all of my adult life.
“You’re not poultry,” Jace said, grinning as he brushed a strand of hair from my shoulder. “And anyway, after everything that’s happened the last couple of days, you have to admit us watching out for you was a good idea.”
“The hell it was.” I beat Jace over the head with that stupid fancy pillow as I spoke, punctuating each word with another harmless blow, even when he brought his arms up in defense. “I…watched…out…for…my…self.” After one final whack, I dropped the pillow into my lap and sat frowning at Jace. “Marc wasn’t even there. But don’t you dare tell Daddy. I’m getting ready to try my hand at blackmail.”
“A new hobby? What, you get tired of the disappearing act?”
“Funny.” I smacked him one last time with the pillow. “But I’m not kidding. He has no right interfering in my life. For that matter, neither does my father.”
Jace’s grin faded slowly. “My father died when I was three, and my stepfather never gave me anything but a hard time. Your dad gave you five years of freedom. Why isn’t that enough?” With nothing appropriate left to rub, his hands settled aimlessly into his lap, and I stared at them to avoid seeing the dejected look in his eyes. He was taking it too personally. It wasn’t like I’d left him in particular.
“Because my life isn’t his to give,” I said, my words clipped short in frustration. “It’s mine, and I should be able to do whatever I want with it.” Why is that so hard for everyone else to understand?
Jace shrugged. “So, what do you want to do with your life?”
My hand clenched around a handful of my comforter. “I don’t know yet.”
Instead of laughing, he nodded as if he understood. He probably did. If Jace had any long-term goals, surely he wouldn’t have still been working for my father.
He ran a hand through his straight, light brown hair, and my eyes tracked the movement automatically. “Your dad never sent Marc, you know. He could have, but he didn’t.”
“Until today.” I tried not to pout. I really did, knowing I’d never be accepted as an adult as long as I acted like a child. But old habits really do die hard.
“Today’s different.”
“No, today’s the same.” I straightened out of my slouch, drawing his gaze up with me. “It’s the same as tomorrow will be, and the next day. It’s the same as it was when I left.”
“Not quite,” he said, and the grin was back. He shifted into a more comfortable position, wrinkling my comforter, and leaned forward, blue eyes gleaming. “You’re out of practice now.”
Out of practice? A slow smile spread across my face. He wanted to run.
“Is that a challenge?” My pulse quickened at the thought of a race, my heart already preparing to increase the blood flow to my muscles. I leaned forward in anticipation, my breath coming fast and shallow. My aggravation was gone, overwhelmed by my love of the chase.
“It’s a fact.” Jace’s eyes sparkled as he edged subtly toward the side of the bed. “There’s no way you could have kept in shape up there, with nowhere to stretch your legs.”
I flashed him a smile, brazen and cocky. “You’d be surprised.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’d be astonished.”
“To the tree line?” I asked, and he nodded. “Let’s go.” Pulling the barrette from my hair, I hopped onto the floor, kicking off my shoes one at a time. I was already halfway to the hall when Jace tackled me from behind. My knees and elbows hit the carpet with a rapid series of thuds. He fell on top of me, pinning me to the floor on my stomach, his body stretched the length of mine.
My breath whooshed from my lungs, and I struggled to replace it for a long moment, until Jace realized the problem. He propped himself up with one elbow, giving me just enough room to breathe. Irritation blossomed, and I opened my mouth to demand that he get up. But my words were forgotten at the first tentative brush of his fingers against my bare skin.
Jace and I had always enjoyed a very casual physical relationship, trading chaste smooches and the occasional rump pinch with no more significance than a hug from a brother, which he practically was. However, this was a new kind of touch, different even than his boldly seductive greeting in Daddy’s office. Before, he’d acted with confidence, almost arrogant in his certainty that I enjoyed his attention. But now he was hesitant, his touch featherlight and slow, as if he expected me to stop him at any moment.I probably should have.
“No head start for you,” he whispered, running one hand over my hip and up my side. His fingers tickled, sending promising shivers all over me. I squirmed beneath him and heard his breath catch.
“I don’t need a head start,” I breathed, my cheek pressed into the floor. His stomach was warm against the curve of my lower back, bare between the seam of my shirt and the low waist of my jeans. On the radio, a new tune played, intense, and heavy on guitar and drums. My heart raced along with its rhythm, and my legs ached to run. But instead of glorying in the freedom of speed, I was trapped, immobile. “I’ve always been faster than you, and a few years with limited practice time isn’t enough to give you an advantage.” I twisted my neck, trying to see him. “Besides, you can’t run while you’re holding me down.”