Terms of Surrender Page 6

  Thank goodness.

  Through the window, she watched him lift a flowerpot and move it to a shadier part of the yard, then proceed to shed his shirt and bare his upper body.

  Muscles rippled across his chest and abdomen. The sunshine bronzed his skin. A soft sigh escaped her.

  What better distraction could a girl hope for?

  It would be wrong to pretend she didn’t appreciate all those sculptured muscles. Absolutely idiotic to ignore the tanned smoothness of his skin. Crazy not to enjoy the washboard ripples of his stomach, the strength in his arms and shoulders. No wonder she turned into an idiot whenever he was in her space.

  He was right. She couldn’t stay here, not when it was so obvious he didn’t want her in his life. The sooner she got out of Gage’s house, the better off he’d be.

  Despite the desire to curl up in a ball and feel sorry for herself, she forced herself to gather up her few belongings. Scrubs, keys…oh yeah, and the remnants of last night’s fear.

  He was right. She didn’t want to go home, not yet. The thought of sleeping alone in her house sent a shiver up her spine.

  She grabbed her cell phone, thumbed in the number of the Coltrane ranch, and waited for Sara to answer.

  The eighteen-year-old daughter of her best friend picked up on the second ring. “This is Sara Coltrane. How may I help you?”

  “Sara, it’s Harley.”

  “Harley? Are you okay? I saw the news and tried to call you.”

  “I’m fine, Sara. I need to get the lock changed on my front door. Other than that there was no damage done.” At least not externally, where anyone could see. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

  “Sure, anything. You know you’re my baby’s favorite aunt.”

  Harley felt a smile tug at the edges of her mouth. “I need a place to stay for a few nights—”

  “Of course you can. I’d love to have the company. With Mom and Dad on the road, it’s lonely here.”

  “I won’t take up much space, I promise. Even a couch will do. And it would only be for a couple of nights until I get my head on straight. I know it’s stupid to be afraid to go back to my house—”

  Sara interrupted her. “Not stupid at all. If someone broke in here, I’d be freaked out, too.”

  “I don’t have much with me. Would you mind if I borrowed some clothes?”

  “I’m too tall, but Mom should have some stuff that’ll fit you.”

  The front doorbell rang and fear raced up her spine. She glanced outside, saw Gage helping his parents, and shored up her nerve. “I have to go. There’s someone at the door and I’m the only one in the house.”

  “I’ll be home all day, so come whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks so much, Sara. I’ll see you in a little while.”

  Harley hung up and headed for the front door. On the other side of the screen door stood her brother-in-law, Mike Toryn. An annoyed frown pinched his brows. The moment he saw her, his face turned to thunder.

  “Damn it. I’ve been trying to call you all morning. Where the hell have you been?”

  “Right here.” Caught off guard by his outburst, she returned his frown through the screen door mesh. “Did you get up on the wrong side of bed?”

  “Not funny.” He wiggled the latch, but the door was still locked. “Are you going to open this up or make me stand here all day?”

  “Depends.” She smiled sweetly. “Will you calm down and be nice to me?”

  He nodded sharply, still clearly agitated, and stepped back from the door, his long fingers tapping against the frayed denim of his jeans. “You okay?”

  “A few bruises and scrapes. That’s it, Mike. Honest.” Immediately she recognized his annoyance was a sign of the depth of his concern and she felt contrite. “I’m so sorry I didn’t call you. It was late and I didn’t want to bother you and the twins.”

  His attention was locked on her face, which surprised her because ever since Hannah’s death, he’d barely been able to look at her. She pushed open the screen door, motioned him in, and the door banged shut behind him. He stopped in front of her, so close she could smell the faint scent of the aftershave that Hannah always said made her knees turn to jelly.

  And something else. Something less pleasant and more worrisome. She leaned in closer. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not the one who nearly got shot.” Mike ran his index finger down the side of her cheek, across her jaw, and tilted her face up. She bit back a groan of pain as he touched the bruise at her temple and tried to think of something to say, but ever since Hannah’s death, things had been difficult between them.

  Survivor’s guilt.

  What would he say if she told him how she felt, that she would have willingly gone in her sister’s place? Would he finally forgive her for being alive while the wife he had worshipped—the mother of his children—was dead and gone? She took a deep breath and willed the tears away because every time she thought of Mike and his two sweet, motherless girls, she wanted to weep and never stop. “Really, truly, I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.” His voice was soft, soothing, and she wanted to crawl into his arms and seek comfort. While her sister had been alive, he’d been like a big brother. Now it was like they were strangers again, wary, cautious, nervous around one another. He stepped closer, so close she could see the gold flecks in his hazel eyes and smell the faint aroma of alcohol on his breath.

  Harley frowned. “Have you been drinking?”

  “No.” He stepped back quickly, the muscles on his face tight with sudden anger, and Harley knew he was lying. “The girls are in the truck. They wanted to see you.”

  A pair of high-pitched squeals erupted from the direction of the street. She forced a smile and tried to ignore the intensity of Mike’s concentration on her. Even though she knew he loved those girls, sometimes she got the feeling they were as much a painful reminder of their mother’s death as she was.

  “Come on,” he said, and before she was ready to move, he grabbed her elbow, and dragged her outside and down the steps.

  Harley stubbed her toe on the hard cement, skidded down the last couple of steps, and jolted to a stop. “Mike, slow down.”

  “Damn it. I’m sorry,” he said as he tightened his grip on her arm and jerked her upright. “I barely slept last night, Hannah. You should’ve realized I’d be worried. What were you thinking?”

  She froze.

  Had he called her Hannah?

  No, she had to be mistaken.

  There was definitely something different about him today, something off, something that made her uncomfortable. Maybe he was coming down with the flu because he looked peaked, flushed, unwell. She studied his profile as she stepped on her right foot and hobbled after him. “I didn’t want to bother you. Besides, Gage was with me the whole time. He took care of everything.”

  “As soon as I saw the morning paper, I called. If you were here, why weren’t either of you answering the phone? What were you doing?” He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and she bumped up against him. Confused, she tried to pull her wrist free of his grip, but he tightened his fingers. “Kripes, Hannah. I thought you were dead.”

  Her head snapped up so she could look at his face.

  She wasn’t imagining things. He had called her Hannah. And suddenly, the fear and confusion were gone, and she felt sorry for him again.

  Gently, she touched his arm with her fingertips. “Mike, I’m Harley, not Hannah.”

  His stunned gaze refocused on her face and the feverish glint in his eyes cleared. He loosened his fingers from around her wrist, released her arm, and his gaze skittered away.

  “Harley. You’re Harley. I know that,” he muttered, his voice rough, subdued, the animation in his demeanor gone as he shrugged. “You’re my only connection to Hannah now. I guess that’s why I freaked.”

  Beneath her bare feet, the cement sidewalk felt cold, while overhead the sun warmed the top of her head and the back of her neck. She
realized that in the two months since her sister’s death, he was getting worse, not better. “Mike, you need to talk to someone. A professional who can help you.”

  “You mean a shrink?” He laughed, the sound a strangled version of his former robust self. “Can they take away my memories? Warm my cold bed?”

  She knew exactly how Mike felt. Lost and lonely and heartbroken. Only half a person, like she’d been ever since her twin had died.

  “Aunt Harley, Aunt Harley.”

  As her sister’s four-year-old twins screamed her name, their heads popped through the opening of the unrolled window, their sun-lightened hair a rich shade of wheat. Mike backed away from her, no longer able to look at her, and as she forced away all thoughts of his odd behavior, she allowed him to withdraw back into himself.

  For now.

  With her throat closing from the sadness which had hit them all, Harley started down the sidewalk toward the truck.

  Inside, Laura and Lisa, identical twins like Hannah and her had been, pushed and shoved at each other for supremacy over the open window. Before one of them fell, Harley pulled open the truck door, and the girls tumbled out in a tangle of arms and legs and determination to be first on the ground.

  Harley knelt down to their level and enveloped them in a hug which made them squirm and giggle and push, until she finally loosened her hold and gave them room to breathe.

  Laura wrapped her arms around Harley’s neck and hung on. “You was lost.”

  Harley hugged her back. “And now you’ve found me.”

  Lisa wedged herself in front of her sister until she stood nose to nose with Harley, her intense dark chocolate eyes fixed on her aunt. “We was soooo worried.”

  “Everything is all right. I’m all right.”

  The girls pulled back and stared at her. Lisa reached out, grabbed her nose, and gave it a gentle twist. “You look like Mommy.”

  “That’s because your mommy and I were twins, like you and Laura.”

  Laura hugged her around the neck again and whispered, “We love you, Aunt Harley.”

  “I love you, too, sweetie.” She could sense Mike’s presence behind her, even though she hadn’t heard the sound of his footsteps approach them. Pushing to her feet, she turned to face him.

  He shifted from foot to foot, his gaze skittering from the top of her head to the girls and beyond, maybe someplace where he wasn’t haunted by memories of the beloved wife he’d lost. “I called Adam. He told me what happened, where you were staying. That’s how we found you.”

  Taking each girl by a hand, Harley straightened. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone. I guess I wasn’t thinking. I’m so very sorry if I scared you.”

  “Yeah, no harm done.” Mike kicked at a pebble on the cement and glanced at the girls before lowering his voice. “They’re driving me nuts. Can you take them off my hands for a while?”

  Beside her, the girls turned still and silent, and Harley could imagine how their father’s words hurt them. So she pushed aside the worry for her brother-in-law and focused on the girls instead. “Sure. They can come visit Sara with me. Maybe they could spend the night with us.”

  He nodded and looked away.

  “Gage and your parents are around back—”

  Laura tugged on her hand. “I wanna see Unca Gage, too.”

  Lisa jumped up and down beside her. “Me, too.”

  As Mike turned toward the back yard, the girls yanked free of her grip. And they hightailed it up the driveway and around the corner of the house where they disappeared, their clear sweet voices echoing between the buildings.

  So much for a quick getaway.

  Harley sighed and headed back into the house to see if she could find some milk and cookies for the girls.

  At least Mike was back to normal. He’d called her Hannah by mistake because he’d been worried about her, that’s all. He was still in the grieving process and eventually when he was done, he’d be able to look at her again and remember she wasn’t the woman he’d loved and lost.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  While Gage moved another flowerpot for his dad, he wondered what Harley was up to in the house or if she’d already left.

  Guilt twisted his gut.

  Maybe he should have let her stay another night or two. But the last thing she needed while she was so vulnerable was him moving in and taking over, which he’d do because he liked to be in control, a personality trait he’d inherited from his dad.

  Better off not to think of her. He lifted another flowerpot and glanced up toward the kitchen window.

  His mom stopped beside him. “She’s very pretty.”

  His dad grunted. “Pretty doesn’t get the work done.”

  Gage dragged his attention from the window to the man who had raised him with an iron fist. “Where do you want this one?”

  Before Bill Toryn could give instructions, his mom spoke up again. “Does she have legs like Hannah’s? Hannah had those long sexy legs made for wrapping around a man’s waist. I always wished my legs were long and sleek instead of short and stubby.”

  A strangled laugh escaped his throat. “Geez, Mom.”

  Bill grunted again. “Don’t distract the boy, Fran.”

  “I’m not. He can talk and work at the same time.”

  With a sigh, Gage set the pot down in the spot his dad indicated and tried to change the topic. “So I hear it’s supposed to rain sometime soon.”

  His mom placed one hand on her matronly waist. “Go away, Bill. It’s time for a mother-son discussion.”

  Grumbling something about disobedient and nosy women, his dad walked away.

  Frances faced her son. “It’s not like I haven’t had sex from time to time. Where do you think you came from?”

  Sweat dripped off his forehead, into his eyes. He grabbed the discarded shirt off the back of the lawn chair and wiped his face. “Not discussing this with you, Mom.”

  She patted his arm. “Fine, I can take the hint. As long as you’re using proper birth control, I won’t say another word.” She bent to the pot and plucked off some finished petals, and when she stood up and fixed him with an inquisitive stare, he realized she wasn’t done yet. “So how long have you been sleeping with Hannah’s sister?”

  “Mom.”

  “Was it a one night stand? I’ve never had one of those, but I’ve heard they can be quite exciting.” She winked and grinned. “With the right person, of course.”

  “You know, you’re as tenacious as a pit bull.” As she continued to stare at him, he laughed and gave in. “Fine. You want the truth about my sex life? I’m taking a break. I’m not having sex with Harley or anyone else for that matter.”

  “Well, what’s wrong with you?” With the trowel in her hand, she pointed down at the front of his pants. “Be a good boy and confide in your mother. Are you having problems with your wee wee?”

  Another laugh escaped. He held up his hands and backed up a step. “There’s nothing wrong with me or my…you know what. I’m healthy and perfectly capable of…” He choked on another laugh. “You know.”

  “You’re not getting any younger, Gage. You should take a lesson from your brother and get married and start a family.”

  A familiar childish scream came from the side of the house and grabbed him around the throat. Dryly, he said, “Right, I’ll get right on that.”

  “Why don’t I believe you?” She turned to face the driveway, her hands folded in front of her. “In so many ways, you’re like your father, bottling your feelings up inside. It’s not healthy.”

  The high-pitched screams grew louder, bringing their conversation to an end.

  Thank God.

  Gage watched two tiny bundles of energy tumble around the corner of the house, pause to scope out the backyard, then dash straight for their grandma.

  Arms outstretched, Frances bent at the waist. As the twins collided with her, nearly knocking her off her feet, she smiled. “Hello, girls. I’ve missed you so much.”

  Th
eir voices rang out in unison. “We missed you, too, Grandma.”

  Frances turned the girls slightly and gave Gage a grin. “Look who’s home today.”

  The girls raced his way, bumping and nudging each other, until they reached him and wrapped their arms and legs around his legs. In unison, they cried out, “Unca Gage. Unca Gage.”

  Mike trailed behind them, an apology in his eyes and on his lips. “Sorry, bro. If I could harness all their energy, I’d put it to good use on the farm.”

  “No problem.” Gage peered down at the two identical faces beaming up at him. He’d been back in town for three months, yet still couldn’t tell the twins apart. “Okay, who’s who?”

  “I’m Laura,” screamed the one hanging off his right leg.

  “I’m Lisa,” screeched the one on his left leg, obviously determined not to be outdone in volume by her sister.

  Mike stuffed his hands into his pockets, a glum expression on his face. “Use your inside voices, girls, or Uncle Gage will ask us to leave.”

  Frances wandered over to her younger son, put one arm around his waist, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You’ve lost weight.”

  He scraped one hand over his face, his exhaustion apparent, and cracked a small smile. “They’re wearing me out, one scream at a time.”

  Gage was relieved his brother still had a bit of his sense of humor.

  His dad shuffled toward them. “Those screams reached all the way to the other side of town. Children should be seen, not heard.”

  William crouched down to the twins’ level, his knees creaking. The two girls craned their necks to check out the noise and tried to look between Gage’s legs at the same time. They ended up bumping their noggins together. As they turned to glare at each other, Gage suppressed a grin.

  Frances sent her husband a worried look and patted him on one shoulder. “Bill, they’re just having fun.”

  His dad grumbled under his breath. “What good is a noise bylaw when nobody pays attention to it?”

  With one arm, Laura let go of Gage’s leg long enough to hold up four fingers in front of her grandpa’s face. “I’s this old.”

  Lisa, not to be left out, shoved her sister’s hand away, and held her four fingers an inch from her grandpa’s eyes. “Me, too.”