Arrogant Bastard Page 12

  Wyatt nods. “Just as long as we’re clear.”

  “Crystal.” And with that, I go to my truck and climb in.

  Fifteen minutes later, I spot her car parked on the side of the cemetery, just where Wyatt said it would be.

  I pull up behind the vehicle and search the rows of graves before I spot her sitting on the grass, still bright and pretty in her dress. I shut off the engine and climb out without a clue of what I’m going to say.

  I walk over, and she raises her head. It’s hard to see her face in the blinding sun, but she looks like an angel in her buttercup dress, skirt flowing around her, pooled on the ground, her dark sable hair glowing in the light.

  Her lips part. “It’s you.”

  I take a seat next to her. “It’s me.”

  My body casts a shadow across her face, giving me an eerie slither of portent.

  She wipes her hands across tearstained cheeks. “I want to be alone.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I prop up my legs and put my elbows on my knees, taking in the gravesite in front of me.

  Melody McKay

  Beloved Mother ~ Devoted Wife

  Followed by the dates of her birth and death.

  It’s a simple gray stone, etched in block letters. Nothing like the elaborate crypts made famous in New Orleans.

  “Could you please leave?”

  I lace my fingers, not looking in her direction, wanting to provide her with some of the privacy I know she craves. “Sometimes what we want isn’t what we need.”

  “And you think you’re entitled to make that decision for me?” Her voice is strained, like she’s fighting tears. She probably is.

  “Yeah, today I think I do.”

  “You’re wrong.” She moves to stand. “If you won’t leave, I will.”

  Lightning fast, I reach out and grab her wrist. “You’re going to sit here with me, and that’s final.”

  She glares, trying to pull away. “You have no right to make decisions for me.”

  I don’t let her go. Maybe it’s not politically correct of me, not respecting her wishes, but she’s gonna sit with me. And I’m going to make her talk. “Your body gives me the right.”

  She stares at me, galled. “Fuck you.”

  I tug at her wrist, not hard, but insistent. “Sit down, Cat.”

  She peers at my fingers locked around her fine bones. “As soon as you let go, I’m out of here.”

  I shrug. “Then I guess I’m not letting go.”

  She lets out a scream that surprises me and punches my shoulder with her free hand. “Stop it. You’re driving me crazy!”

  “Right back at you, sweetheart.”

  She tumbles to the ground, falling to her knees and shaking her head. But when she speaks, her voice has lost all the defiance. “What do you want from me, Caden? Make up your damn mind.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “I know!” She throws up her hand. “You’re hot. You’re cold. You pull me close. Push me away. It’s infuriating. Stop fucking with me.”

  With those words I do drop my hold, because she’s right. I’m being a bastard. I meet her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want you to be sorry. I want it to stop.”

  “Couldn’t you say the same though, Cat?” My eyes dip to the mouth I’ve only tasted once, but somehow the very essence of her has been imprinted on me. “If you think about it?”

  She blows out a breath, looks away. “I guess.”

  A smile flits over my lips. “Hard to stay away, isn’t it?”

  She chews her bottom lip, staring at her mother’s grave.

  “I know what I should do, but you make it hard,” I tell her.

  She picks up a blade of grass and plays with it as a muscle in her jaw works. “I’m sorry we’re attracted to each other.”

  I rub a hand over my jaw. “I’m sorry too.”

  She falls silent, appearing lost in her thoughts, and I let her have them. I sit and watch her, the play of emotions dancing across her face, the way her head tilts, and way the cords of her neck flex and loosen.

  When I first sat down in that office in front of her, I’d thought her pretty, thought she could be sexy if she let herself be. It was a shallow assessment. And a wrong one. She’s beautiful, complex, and a complete mystery to me. Every time I see her, interact with her, she grows more compelling, more addictive.

  Finally, she asks, “How did you find me?”

  “Wyatt.”

  She jerks her head to look at me. “He told you?”

  “Yeah, he did. Does that surprise you?”

  “Yes. I thought he’d have my best interests in mind.”

  I shrug. “Maybe he does.”

  She scoffs, chucking the blade of grass. It flutters in the wind before falling to the ground. “You think my best interest is a secretive, remote drifter whose only asset is a beat-up truck?”

  I chuckle, wanting to alleviate some of the tension. “Well, when you put it like that…”

  She shakes her head. “You’re impossible.”

  Her expression is exasperated, but her shoulders have dropped from hovering around her ears.

  I point to her mother’s grave. “How’d she die?”

  Cat swallows hard. “Cancer.”

  “I’m sorry.” I look at the years of her birth and death. “She was young.”

  “Yeah.” Her eyes turn bright, watery as she studies the stone. “Maybe that’s just how it is for the women in my family.”

  “What? To die young?” My heart beats fast, instinct warning me to tread lightly so I can get to the truth of her.

  She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  I take a risk and put my palm on her back, tracing a path down her spine to rest on her hip. Her body tenses, but she doesn’t push me away, and I take that as progress. “It matters to me.”

  She meets my gaze. “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t know, but it does.”

  “I don’t think that’s enough for me.”

  I take a deep breath and try again. “There’s something about you that reaches inside me and squeezes. Something stronger than sex. I don’t like it, but I can’t seem to shake it.”

  She lowers her eyes, staring down. “I didn’t think I affected you.”

  I have no idea why she’d believe that. Can’t she see what a struggle it is to stay away from her? But regardless of what I think she should believe, I’m stuck with what she does.

  “You do.” I run my hand up her back, curl it around her neck, and stroke my thumb over her lips. “If you didn’t, I wouldn’t be here, having the hard conversation.”

  Her lashes flicker. “What do you want from me?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  She raises her hand and brushes my forearm, but I can’t tell if it’s to push me away or keep me close. “You’re confusing me.”

  “Right back at you.”

  “I was fine before you came along.”

  Now that’s a lie, and we both know it. “Were you, Cat? Were you really?”

  She does push my hand away, and I let it fall. “I thought I was, but I don’t know anything anymore.”

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  She shakes her head.

  I nod. There’s time for that, and the fact that she hasn’t bolted feels like enough for now. But I do want to make myself clear.

  I meet her eyes. “Someday you’re going to tell me your secrets, Cat.”

  A shadow crosses her face. “Why?”

  “Because I want them.” I lean over and brush a soft kiss on her lips, not letting it deepen and consume us both. “And you want to give them to me.”

  She tilts her head. “And if I want yours in return?”

  I have a choice here: to put a wedge between us or pull her closer. I choose the latter. “We’ll have to work out an exchange then, won’t we?”

  Cat

  * * *

  His words surprise me.


  I didn’t expect them, and I’m not sure exactly what to think. But somehow, despite his arrogance and presumption, his presence has made me feel better.

  Him sitting here beside me, his touch, his words—soothes away all the ragged emotions pulling at me.

  I meet his gaze.

  I’ve never had a man look at me quite like Caden does. It’s not with desire—although that’s there too—but like he needs to hear every word I say, to soak them in and absorb them. It’s beyond listening, but I can’t quite articulate it.

  It’s wrong to climb deeper down this rabbit hole. I know it will end in disaster. I’m not meant to be with a man like Caden, and he’s not meant for a woman like me.

  But right now I’m weak, I want to feel better, and he’s making that happen.

  I lick my bottom lip. “Can we start with something small?”

  He reaches for me again, curling his hand around my neck. “We can start however you want.”

  I blink up at him. “What’s the first thing you think I should know?”

  He smiles. “I’m arrogant.”

  “I already know that.”

  “And demanding.”

  “Not new information either.”

  “I’m hard.”

  I raise a brow. “I’m not touching that one.”

  He grins. “Smart girl.”

  The mood lightens considerably, and I push at his chest. “Tell me something good.”

  His thumb brushes over my bottom lip. “You make me want to be a better man.”

  “Oh.” The words surprise me.

  “Now you go.” His voice is soft, luring me in.

  So I give him something, a confession. “You were right.”

  “About what?”

  My heart slams against my ribs. I know what I want to tell him, what’s pressing against my tongue and wanting to be revealed. I’m not used to admissions, though, and they have to fight to get free. “To stay.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  I nod, tiny and small. “You made me feel better.”

  “I’m happy to hear that.”

  My lashes flutter to meet his navy eyes. “You know this will end in disaster.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “We shouldn’t do this. My brothers, they need you.”

  “And what about you, Cat? Do you need me?”

  I shake my head. “Not yet, but I’m starting to.”

  I hold my breath, waiting. Because Caden has all the signs of a commitment-phobic man, and that’s the kind of statement that sends them into a panic, making them turn tail and run.

  I should know. I’ve always had a weakness for that type. I blame my daddy, who ran off when I was young and never looked back. I recognize the trait and usually stay far away from those who exhibit it. While I might be weak, I’m not stupid.

  The air is still, waiting right along with me as I search for that flash of panic, followed by retreat. I need to witness it, so this spell he’s cast on me can be broken once and for all.

  His fingers tighten on the back of my neck.

  He stares into my eyes.

  His head tilts. “What am I going to do with you?”

  I shrug. “Nothing, if that’s what you want.”

  “It’s not what I want.” His gaze dips to my mouth. “I want you. Even though I shouldn’t.”

  I don’t know what that means. It sounds noncommittal, or like an admission and condition rolled into one.

  “Now what?” I ask.

  His fingers fall away, leaving a cold spot on my neck where his palm was hot against my skin. He shifts, pointing at my mother’s grave. “Want to tell me about your mom?”

  I shake my head. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  “There must be something.”

  I love my mom, but looking at her through adult eyes, I find myself intolerant of all her failings. Instead of romanticizing her as I’m supposed to when a loved one dies, I pick at her faults, rolling over in my mind how she failed us and how we suffered because of her poor life decisions. I don’t like that I think that, so I keep it to myself.

  I divert, not interested in my past, but fascinated by his. I raise my knees under the fabric of my dress and wrap my arms around my shins. “What about you? You’ve officially met every member of my family, and I know nothing about yours.”

  “There’s not much to tell.”

  I poke him in the ribs. “See?”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “My parents had me late in life, and I was an only child. My dad died of a heart attack when I was eighteen. A while back, my mom developed dementia, and she’s in a nursing home outside of New Orleans.”

  “Do you ever go visit her?”

  “Nope.” He shoots me a glance. “Does that make me horrible?”

  I’ve long ago given up trying to figure out what makes a person horrible. The truth is, most of us are just human and prone to mistakes. We can’t help ourselves, even when we hurt other people.

  Instead an idea niggles in the back of my brain, and I scrape my teeth over my bottom lip. “We could go visit her tomorrow.”

  It’s Sunday, the slowest day of the week. We could leave in the morning and return tomorrow night.

  He frowns. “I don’t think that’s going to be on any of those best-first-date-ideas lists.”

  I cock a brow. “Is that what we’re doing? Dating?”

  He scrubs a hand over his jaw. “It’s a thought.”

  I roll my eyes. “Do you ever just answer a question directly?”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing with you.” His jaw tightens for a fraction of a second before it releases. He meets my eyes. “You’re my habit.”

  “What does that mean?” It’s probably the first revealing thing he’s said, and even that is cryptic.

  He shifts away from me, looking out at the trees on the other side of the road. “I’ve got a habit of self-destructing when I find something good.”

  “I see.” The words are slow, like they don’t want to come out of my mouth.

  He drags a hand through his hair. “I like it here. I like the way you run things. I like Wyatt and Jackson. This place is brimming with excitement and opportunity. It’s not far from where I grew up. It feels like a place I could put down some roots. And just as sure as I’m sitting here, I will absolutely find a way to fuck it up.” He returns his attention to me, gazing directly and intently into my eyes. “And, mark my words, you will be my downfall.”

  I look away, studying the grass. I rip a few blades from the ground and let them play through my fingers. He’s probably right. Especially if it’s a pattern and he’s determined to complete the circle. But it’s also true that if it’s not me, it will be something else. That’s the thing about self-destruction. You’ll find a way.

  The only real question is, am I willing to be part of the sequence of events that leads to the inevitable conclusion? In the end, it won’t be worth it.

  Sex and orgasms are never really worth it.

  But…he feels like the first thing in a long time that’s for me, that isn’t a response to something or someone else. There’s a purity in our connection. It’s about him and me, and nobody else factors into it.

  The truth is, I can’t remember the last time I felt that.

  I don’t want to give it up yet.

  I let the grass fall from my fingertips and look at him. “So do you want to go visit your mom tomorrow, or not?”

  Shadows flicker in his dark blue eyes, across the set of his mouth.

  I believe he’s going to say no, so his response surprises me.

  He nods. “Sure.”

  “It’s settled then.”

  “Can we get something to eat after?”

  “Sure.”

  So that’s it—a step toward him instead of away.

  I guess Caden Landry’s not the only one interested in self destruction.

  12

  Caden

  After the graveyard yesterday, Cat and I bo
th retreated.

  We’d gone off, done our own thing, and by some mutual, unspoken agreement left each other alone for the rest of the day.

  Last night, she texted me that we’d leave at nine in the morning. I said okay, and that was it. I’m not exactly sure why I agreed to go visit my mother with Cat in tow. When I got the job here, I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d have to go pay my mom a visit, but I’ve been procrastinating—telling myself I’ll do it as soon as I settle in to a routine. But really, I don’t want to go.

  I’m a shit son.

  My only excuse is that it’s hard to spend time with a mother who doesn’t know who you are. The only living person I have a blood connection to thinks I’m a stranger. The last time I went to see her, she thought I was a thief, trying to steal her belongings. She got hysterical, screaming for someone to come help her, asking for the police to have me arrested.

  No matter how hard they tried to calm her down, nothing worked until I left the room. I’d stood on the side of the wall, listening in the doorway to the nurses’ attempts to soothe her. Once I’d gone, she was happy.

  I haven’t gone back.

  I’m not sure why I’m agreeing to have Cat witness what’s sure to be a horrible situation. It’d be easier to go alone, but here I am.

  I dig my keys out of my jeans and lock the door to the cabin before turning around. Cat’s already there. She’s pulled down the tailgate of the truck bed and is sitting cross legged, drinking from a travel coffee mug and staring into the blue sky.

  In the sunlight, her hair is shot with strands of gold, mixing with the richness. It’s down today, a tumble around her shoulders. She’s wearing a pink sleeveless top and faded jeans.

  She looks fresh, pretty, and very fuckable.

  She spots me, and a smile that about knocks me on my ass flashes across her lips. “I thought you’d pussy out.”

  I come to stand in front of her, and since she’s sitting down, I loom over her. “I don’t pussy out.”

  “Course you do. Everyone knows men are the weaker sex.”

  I chuckle and raise a brow. “It’s gonna be one of those days, huh?”

  Her head tilts, sending her hair over her shoulder to curve at the top of her breast. “One of what days?”