Bad Boy's Bride Page 9

  10

  “By God, what a week,” Colt said, kicking up his heels on the back porch.

  “Yeah,” Sawyer said, rubbing a sore spot in his neck. “I’m sunburned and worn out.”

  Walker came out of the house with several beers in a bucket, iced down.

  “Genius!” Colt declared.

  Walker sat, all three of them leaning back in their chairs and enjoying the sunset.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” Colt warned. “Marilee called to say she’s on her way over. I get the feeling that she wants something.”

  Sawyer arched an ironic brow at Colt, who grinned.

  “I know, I know,” Colt said. “She wouldn’t call us, otherwise.”

  Walker grunted, but didn’t voice whatever antagonistic thoughts were drifting through his mind. Walker never really got over their mother’s death, having been the closest to her.

  His father publicly acknowledging his mistress so soon after the death of his wife… that was something none of the Roman sons ever forgot, but Walker was still actively angry about it.

  Nobody held a grudge like Walker, either.

  Sawyer took advantage of the lull to return a few emails on his phone, then text back Merissa and Stacy, complimenting the dirty videos they’d sent him days before. If he was a little slow to respond, neither girl seemed to mind.

  Truth be told, he hadn’t even watched Stacy’s video. Three seconds of her dull-as-dirt striptease, and Sawyer’d drifted off to sleep.

  He blamed the physical labor, wearing him out beyond all reason. Normally, he’d be pretty damned interested, especially because Merissa had the nicest pair of fake tits that money could buy.

  Her tanned skin and dark hair weren’t doing a whole lot for him recently, though. Damned if he knew why. Stacy, at least, was blonde… but her high-pitched Valley Girl voice had started to grate on his nerves.

  Turning his phone off, he put it aside and tried to enjoy the moment with his brothers.

  After a few minutes of quiet drinking, the click of heels announced Marilee’s arrival. She stepped out onto the back porch, making a face like she’d just gotten a whiff of hot garbage.

  In her tight leopard-print dress and sky-high white heels, she surveyed Sawyer and his brothers like a queen addressing her subjects.

  “Here you boys are. Why in the world would you be out here with the mosquitos when you could be relaxing in the kitchen? It’s nice and new and clean,” she said, eyeing them.

  Sawyer glanced at his brothers. All three shrugged, unwilling to insult her, but not particularly fond of the kitchen, either.

  “Well,” she said, brushing back a lock of her platinum blonde hair. “I just came out to tell you in person that I signed you boys up for some community service.”

  “Sorry?” Colt blurted out, looking baffled.

  “There are some families in Catahoula that are struggling a lot more than the Romans,” Marilee said, pinning them with a firm gaze. “I think the family should give back more. I’m making your father donate money, since he refuses to do anything. But I’m working at the food pantry, and I’ve signed y’all up to do some projects around town. Once a week, instead of the church social.”

  Sawyer considered the last part. He didn’t really want to do community service, but then again he didn’t want to go to stuffy church functions, either.

  “All the young people from church will be there,” Marilee said. “Not just boys swinging hammers, if you get my drift.”

  “Marilee—” Walker started to protest.

  “We’ll do it,” Sawyer said, raising a hand to cut his brother off.

  Colt and Walker turned to him in surprise. He arched a brow. “Hey, it’s for a good cause, right?”

  Marilee gave them a glowing grin. “Perfect! To think, your father said I couldn’t talk y’all into it. He never does give you boys enough credit.”

  “Especially where there are women involved,” Walker mumbled, too quiet for her to hear.

  “Well, I will leave you boys to your… lounging,” she said, casting a final pointed glance around the back porch.

  “Night, Marilee,” Sawyer and Colt said.

  She turned and clicked away purposefully, and no sooner was she out of their line of sight did Colt and Walker turn on Sawyer.

  “Really?” Walker asked, looking annoyed.

  “You’re mad that I got us out of a month of church socials?” Sawyer asked, leaning back in his seat with a smirk.

  “I’m not mad,” Colt said. “I’m astonished how far you’ll go to chase a girl that won’t even speak to you.”

  “I can’t believe you think you can still speak for both of us, at this age,” Walker complained.

  “Look. You need to get out of the damned house, talk to some women like a normal guy your age,” Sawyer told Walker. “And Colt, this is a great way for you to quietly stalk Shelby River without looking like a tool. As far as I see it, we’re all getting something out of this.”

  Walker stood, his expression going dark. He stared at Sawyer for a second, clearly on the verge of unleashing his anger, but he turned and stormed off instead.

  “Nice,” Colt said, righting himself. “Great job handling that, brother.”

  “It’s been years,” Sawyer said, feeling a little defensive.

  “Would it kill you to be a little more sensitive?”

  “There are over 3 billion women in the world. He can’t just give up and be alone forever at 28.”

  “Yeah, well. If Remy died, would you be in a rush to go out and replace her?” Colt asked, standing and picking up his beer.

  Sawyer glared at Colt. “Remy’s not my fiancée, first off. I’m just trying to make things right between us, figure out what the mystery is around her.”

  “Yeah, sure. You’re not just sliding right back into your pattern, the life you had before you went into service. Is that what you tell yourself every night, after a hard day’s work pushing Remy’s boundaries?”

  “You’ve got a hell of a big mouth, Colt,” Sawyer said, pushing to his feet. “I think I’m going to head to bed. Wouldn’t want to disappoint anyone tomorrow at community service.”

  Leaving Colt with a sneer on his face, Sawyer headed for bed.

  * * *

  As it turned out, Sawyer didn’t see Remy at the next day’s social. They drove out to the Hemmings’ Farm, doing hard labor felling trees to make space for a new barn. As the day turned to dusk and a bonfire started, he thought surely he’d see her then…

  But no luck. In fact, Micah River was the only one who showed up out of the whole family. It wasn’t like Sawyer could go ask him where the rest of the family was.

  The week stretched on, without a sighting. She wasn’t at the bar on Wednesday night, where all three brothers sat in a booth in near-silence. Walker was still on edge with Sawyer, while Colt was just plain worn out from their work on the barn, though of course he wouldn’t admit it.

  And Sawyer, Sawyer was caught up in memories of the past, thinking about the last time he was in town. The last time things went right, when he and Remy were still friendly.

  More than friendly, actually. He’d taken her out on a trail ride near the end of his trip, traveling a ways down Cur Creek. Down to a place by the river, the swimming hole where they’d hung out as teens, throwing bonfires and staying up late necking and drinking.

  Not that Remy had done a lot of that. He’d been with her a handful of times in high school and a handful of times since then, but as far as Sawyer knew he was her one and only. At least, that was how he liked to think of it.

  Going out to the river at 26, just the two of them on a moonlit date… it was a very different experience from their high school days. He’d laid out a midnight picnic for her with sandwiches and champagne.

  They rekindled their spark right away, like Sawyer and Remy always seemed to do. A single kiss consuming them both until it burned them down to the ground, leaving them in the ashes.

 
Remy was so beautiful that night, shyly shedding her clothes in the summer air, giving in to Sawyer’s every demand. Once he’d teased her enough, she grew bold and wanton.

  Got on top, rode him hard, took what she needed. Damn, just the thought of her like that made him so hard, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  And those lips, the way he’d taught her to suck his cock… Remy mastered it like a pro, bringing him to his knees with ease.

  He loved that about her, how she turned hot as flame, just for him. He’d had other women, some amazingly limber, or some who fucked like cheap porn stars… but none of them were like Remy.

  There was just something about her, some sweetness or beauty that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She had a secret dirty side, and it was nearly Sawyer’s undoing. It drove him crazy, had him thinking about her all the time back when he was deployed.

  Sawyer sat at the bar with his brothers, stuck in the past. Even when some decent-looking girls came over, a little young but hot, in itty bitty short denim skirts with thongs peeking out at their hips, he couldn’t stop thinking of Remy.

  Colt invited the girls to sit down and drink, which of course they did. An hour into their acquaintance, Sawyer had a cute little redhead half on his lap, and when she started groping him under the table…

  Damn, the girl was forward.

  He glanced at her, all that makeup covering up her youthful freckles, and something in him broke. He felt a little queasy, and quickly slid the girl’s hand away from where it laid on his upper thigh.

  The girl seemed to take no offense, and when Colt left with one of the other girls, Sawyer and Walker made their getaway. Colt, they assumed, would find his own ride home.

  “Looks like you had a close call, there,” Walker said as they drove home in Walker’s Escalade.

  “Yeah. She was too young,” Sawyer said.

  “She was probably 23.”

  “Yeah. Like I said, too young.”

  “Too young, or just not the girl you want?”

  Sawyer shot Walker a look, then shook his head.

  “I don’t know, man.”

  Walker only nodded. Talking to Walker was easy like that, he rarely judged and often saw right to the heart of things.

  The real question was, what the hell was up with Sawyer’s libido? Normally being elbow-deep in chicks was like… his thing. He didn’t care who, what, when, or where as long as there were new girls, and those girls were hot.

  And yet, here he was, turning down probably prime young pussy, all because…

  Because what? Because Remy wouldn’t look his way?

  Ridiculous.

  After the bar, back in his apartment, Sawyer struggled for self-control. He wanted Remy badly. The more she ran from him, the more it seemed he wanted her.

  Am I that kind of dick? he wondered to himself. The kind of guy who just wants what he can’t have? After all, I didn’t exactly rush home to see her when I left the service…

  Sawyer fell into a restless sleep, frustrated with himself, knowing that he’d regret his wakefulness in the morning. He slipped down and down into memory, but this time it was no sweet memory of Remy.

  No, this time he dreamed of the sand.

  The thing he remembered the most about Camp Leatherneck was the sand. Everywhere he looked, all around was sand. The camp was built on sand. What little wasn’t actual sand, the actual base, was colored like sand. Camouflage, yeah…

  But if he blinked, he could almost miss the base and just see an endless sea of sand dunes, stretching out across the parched, barren terrain.

  The sand got into everything. Boots, toothpaste, bunk, food. Long bouts of inactivity between missions, boredom for days and days on end, all while feeling trapped by the sand, feeling like he’d never get out.

  He remembered that specific moment, camping bivouac style with no tents about 300 miles from Leatherneck. They were returning from a recon mission, taking their time about it.

  Sawyer remembered packing up camp. Holding up his boot, turning it upside down to make sure nothing had crawled in there overnight. He remembered watching sand slither and fall, the fine tawny grains sliding from his shoe and catching the breeze…

  He felt the impact before he heard or saw it, felt the IED rumble and explode.

  CRACK.

  Sawyer sat up in his bed, an anguished wail escaping his lungs. He felt sick, his chest tight. His body hot, his arms cold, covered in sweat and shaking like a leaf.

  Blinking into the early morning Louisiana light, he rose and went to the window.

  CRACK.

  He nearly jumped out of his skin as the sound came again. Drawing back the curtain, he peered outside. Only 20 feet away, Walker was stripped to the waist, chopping wood.

  No doubt it was Walker’s way of paying Sawyer back for bringing up Walker’s fiancée the previous evening.

  Letting the curtain drop, Sawyer walked back over to sink down on his bed, burying his face in his hands.

  What a way to start the day, he thought to himself.

  * * *

  Sawyer had better luck at the second work social. The River family turned out in full force to the Scott Farm, where the men helped with the same kind of backbreaking barn repairs from the previous social, while the women all worked to process and can various jellies and vegetables on tables just outside.

  Early in the day, Sawyer took a break to grab some water. Leaving the barn, he walked up behind Remy and Shelby, who were clearly in the throes of a heated argument. Tucked away at the side of the barn, the two blonde sisters couldn’t see him, giving him a prime chance to eavesdrop.

  “Sawyer’s going to find out,” Shelby hissed, pointing a finger at Remy. “He’s not stupid, you know.”

  “It’s none of his business,” Remy said, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Remy, this is just wrong, and you know it.”

  Walker strode up behind Sawyer, clearing his throat. Both women turned and spotted Sawyer and Walker, Remy and Shelby both going a little pale.

  “Just coming for some water,” Sawyer said, narrowing his gaze.

  “Mmm,” Shelby said, drawing Remy away.

  “Interesting,” Sawyer mumbled to Walker. “They were just talking about me. About how I was going to find out about something.”

  Walker glanced at Sawyer, shrugged, and moved toward the house.

  The rest of the day, anytime Sawyer saw Remy she was surrounded by a gaggle of older ladies, making herself integral to canning or quilting, flitting from one thing to the next. Keeping herself distant from the rest of the group, basically avoiding everyone her own age.

  If it weren’t for her frilly pink tank top and the way she filled out those jeans, she would’ve blended right in with the other women.

  All through the morning, he kept stealing glances at her, sometimes catching her looking back. Thinking, all the while, about what he’d overheard earlier.

  He’s going to find out. This is wrong.

  It wasn’t until high noon, during the huge buffet-style lunch, that he had an opportunity to approach her. Sawyer saw Remy grab a mason jar full of lemonade, look around furtively, and then sneak off toward the back of the barn.

  By the time he followed her, she was out of sight, but the well-worn path leading down to the river made her trail obvious enough. The trees grew in close as he headed down, shading him from the burning sun.

  He could see why she’d come down here-shade and solitude.

  He found her sitting on the gnarled stump of a tree, jeans rolled up to her knees with her feet in the water. A pose he’d seen her take a hundred times, back when they were kids.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Remy looked up at him, her eyes a little wide.

  “Oh. Hey,” she said, her lips thinning.

  “I followed you down here,” he said, shrugging apologetically.

  “I see that,” she said, glancing away.

  “Listen, Remy,” he said. “I thin
k we got off on the wrong foot.”

  She looked back at him, her blue gaze so sharp it practically cut him. She pursed her lips and frowned, but didn’t speak.

  “I was thinking maybe you’d let me take you out,” he said. “As an apology, I mean.”

  “No,” she said, without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Remy…”

  “Sawyer, I said no.”

  “Why are you avoiding me, Remy? Just tell me that it’s something I did, and I can accept that. I can make it up to you. This stonewalling, I can’t handle.”

  “Maybe I don’t care what you can handle, Sawyer.”

  Remy pulled her feet from the water and grabbed her shoes, clearly intending to leave. When she shoved her feet into her shoes and stood, she turned her glare onto Sawyer, realizing she couldn’t leave without passing him.

  “Move, please,” she said, all her anger simmering right below the surface, plain enough to see.

  “Talk to me,” Sawyer insisted. “I know you may not like me right now, but I was there at the church social. I kissed you, you kissed me back.”

  “It was a mistake,” Remy said. “Now let me pass.”

  “Not until you talk to me,” Sawyer said, sweeping off his Stetson.

  Remy’s gaze dropped to his feet. “See you finally got some proper boots.”

  “Doing my best to fit in again,” Sawyer said with a shrug. “I’m thinking about staying here, permanently.”

  Remy’s expression went hard.

  “Well, I’m not part of your plans,” Remy said, shifting uncomfortably.

  “You could be, if you wanted. You just have to talk to me about whatever’s going on.”

  Remy stared at him for a second, those big blue eyes wide and haunted. Almost, maybe, for the slightest second, Sawyer felt she was about to admit something.

  Then, instead, she shrugged. “Not everything is about you, Sawyer. I thought the military would’ve taught you that.”

  “Tell me what it is about, then,” he insisted.

  “I don’t have time for this, Sawyer,” Remy sighed. “I don’t have like… the emotional energy to deal with this, this thing where we glance at each other over our shoulders and make eyes. I have bigger things going on in my life, trying to save the damn farm…”