As she drove to his house, a car she didn’t recognize pulled up behind her, riding too close to her bumper. No big deal, until the car followed her for a pretty good distance, taking the turns she took, slowing when she slowed. But...she had to be mistaken. Why follow her? Frowning, she took a turn she didn’t need to make, and sure enough, the four-door sedan with the tinted windows stayed right on her tail. Not just right on her tail, but actually giving it a light tap.
A thousand horror stories seemed to play through her mind at once. Namely: a serial killer had targeted her as his next victim and purposely causing car wrecks was his MO. No way she’d stop to exchange insurance info with the driver. Heart speeding up, she debated between leading a potential psycho to Jase—and putting him in danger—or making the longer journey to the sheriff’s office.
Another tap made her decision for her. The sheriff. Definitely the sheriff. But as she took the next turn, the car honked and sped around her, its tires squealing.
She released a relieved breath and made a mental note to be on the lookout for the sedan next time she was out and about. Being in a hurry was no excuse for such aggressive driving.
She backtracked, finally heading into the acreage. By the time she arrived, her shaking had stopped, at least. “Jase,” she called as she stepped through the door.
“He’s not here,” West said.
He and Beck were reclined on the couch. They’d clearly been waiting for her. As she dropped her purse on the coffee table, Beck pressed a button on the remote and turned off the football game, the TV screen going blank.
“I don’t know what happened between you and Jase,” West said, “and honestly, I don’t want to know.”
“But we’re not stupid,” Beck added. “We can guess.”
Limbs heavy, Brook Lynn trudged to a chair and eased down. Their words could mean only one thing, and it calmed her down significantly. “He’s freaking out right now, isn’t he?”
West inclined his head. “He came stomping in at four this morning. Woke me up. I found him in the kitchen, pounding back Red Bull and pacing. We talked, and for hours he watched the clock, waiting for the moment you would arrive. But then something snapped inside him, and he said he had to get some supplies in town. He beat feet.”
Good. A freak-out meant some part of him cared for her more than he’d realized—he just didn’t want to admit it. “Has he never done a relationship before?” she asked.
“One,” Beck admitted. “They were together for two years.”
Hate her already. “Why’d they break up?”
West propped his feet on the coffee table, saying, “Jase will have to give you those details.”
Even as curious as she was, she liked that they were unwilling to share details about their friend. Proved their loyalty. But she needed intel, dang it. “What will you tell me? Because I’ve got some decisions to make. Like how to handle him, how to handle us. If we’ve got a chance for a future, or if I should just throw in the towel now, before either of us gets hurt.” And by either of us, she totally meant I.
The guys shared a look, and Beck nodded.
West sighed and said, “He’s had a hard life. Been betrayed by everyone he’s ever loved. Including us.”
She blinked in surprise. “How did you—”
“Again, those are details he’ll have to give you,” Beck interjected.
She nodded in understanding—or, pretend understanding—then motioned for West to continue.
“I’ve never seen him so worked up about a woman, and I don’t know what to think about it.” West pegged her with a hard stare. “He looks as tough as iron, but he’s actually as fragile as glass. If you want him, you’ll have to fight for him. But if you don’t think you can handle a few internal battle wounds, it’ll be better for him if you let him go now rather than later.”
Oh, she could handle a few battle wounds. She’d never been as intensely attracted to a man as she was to Jase. She’d never before given herself so fully to one’s possession. And she wanted more, definitely. But could a happily-ever-after be based solely on lust and sex? No.