“He’s hardly in his dotage, Jericho.”
“And that’s your decision to make, is it?”
“No,” she argued, “it was Sam’s decision and he made it. You’re making a huge deal over nothing,” she said and tipped her head to one side as she stared up at him. “So what’s really bothering you? It’s not Tim going to the store. Or Sam fighting with mud. What is it, Jericho? Just say it.”
He scraped one hand across his face and blew out a frustrated breath. “I run this camp my way, understand? Stop countermanding my orders and everything will be fine.” He glanced around the room, waved one hand at the feminine touches she’d added and grumbled, “And quit trying to girlie the place up while you’re at it.”
“Girlie?”
“Pillows, rugs, blankets…” He stopped and muttered, “Hell, it’s getting to the point where I don’t know what to expect every time I come into the room.”
“Yes, well,” Daisy said softly, “pillows and crochet work are dangerous entities…”
He snapped her an irritable look. “You know what I mean. Just do your job and nothing else.”
“Uh-huh. Am I supposed to salute, too?”
“Wouldn’t hurt!”
“You are the most impossible man,” she said, shifting so that her hands were fisted on her hips. “Are you really that threatened by a few throw pillows and crocheted afghans? Do scented candles throw you into a tizzy?”
“This is still my house,” he argued, even though he was beginning to feel like a damn fool.
“Nobody said it wasn’t,” she told him. “So why don’t you tell me what’s really bugging you, Jericho? You’re not afraid of me, are you? Afraid I’m getting too close?”
The fact that that was exactly what was worrying him only irritated him further. His head snapped up and his gaze fired into hers. Gritting his teeth, he hissed in a breath and said, “Nobody gets any closer to me than I want them to be. So if you’re looking at me and seeing rainbows and picket fences, then you need to get your eyes checked.”
Rather than being put off by his gruff voice, barely restrained temper and crappy attitude, Daisy smiled at him. Her eyes lit up and she shook her head as she walked toward him. Then laying both palms flat on his chest, she went up on her toes and brushed her mouth across his.
“I see you clearly, Jericho. I always have.”
Temper drained away from him as if someone had pulled a plug. Hard to maintain anger when you were straddling a razor blade of desire and want. “I’m not the kind of man you need.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said softly with another sly smile. “You’re exactly the man I need.”
When she went into his arms, Jericho held her tightly to him, and he had to wonder if she’d be saying these things if she knew that he still blamed himself for her brother’s death.
A couple of days later, it was a cloudy afternoon with a chilly bite to the air as Jericho packed up his truck for an annual fishing trip with his brothers Jesse and Justice. While he worked, Jericho actively wished both of his brothers to the other side of the planet. For the past two days, Jericho had been treating Daisy as if she were a land mine with a tricky trigger mechanism. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if the woman had a short fuse or anything. She was usually so damn happy it was hard to spot a frown on her face. But his tension had been bleeding into her and now she was wary, as if she was no longer sure just how to treat him.
Ever since that confrontation in the great room, neither one of them was entirely comfortable around the other.
You’re exactly the man I need.
Her words repeated over and over again in his mind, making him short-tempered and more irritable than usual. What the hell had she meant? She needed him? For what? Sex?
Or had she meant something more? Was she building castles in the air around him? Because if she was, they were going to collapse. He couldn’t be the man for her. There were too many secrets between them. Too many things left unsaid, and once she knew the truth, he knew he’d never see that smile of hers again. Never feel her squirming beneath him in the middle of the night.
And that was a hell of a thing, wasn’t it? He’d begun keeping his secret to protect her. Now, wasn’t he just protecting himself? Wasn’t he keeping the truth from her so that he wouldn’t lose what he’d found with her?
This never should have begun, he thought. Going down this road was a mistake from the first and he’d known it. Hadn’t he tried to get her to leave? Hadn’t he tried to keep his distance? Hell, he’d realized right away that nothing good could come of this, but Daisy Saxon was a damn force of nature. She was unstoppable. Irresistible. He couldn’t regret what he’d had with her the past few weeks, but he knew the memories of this time with her would haunt him for years after she was gone.
So what kind of bastard was he, to know all of this and still go to her bed every night?
“Idiot,” he muttered darkly and tossed a folding lawn chair into the bed of the truck. “Keep your distance, but don’t stop sleeping with her.”
But damned if he could stop himself. What was a man supposed to do? Turn his back on a warm, beautiful, willing woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her?
Guilt threatened to rear up inside him, but he pushed it away. Daisy was here because she wanted to be. The fact that she didn’t know the whole truth of her brother’s death meant nothing. There wasn’t a thing he could do to change reality and didn’t know if he would if given the chance. Of course, he would spare her pain, but would he take away her brother’s bravery? Brant’s decision to volunteer for dangerous duty, just to keep him safe? No. He couldn’t do that and honor the kid. And that young Marine deserved the honor he’d found in death. Hell, they all did.
What was really bugging him was that he hadn’t told Daisy the whole story. When she’d asked about her brother’s death, he’d dodged her. Told her only the bare minimum. Why? To save her grief? Or was it to save himself from having to see accusation shining in her whiskey eyes?
And did it matter? he demanded of himself silently. Was the reason important when the result was that he was hiding the truth? He, who put such store in honesty, was deliberately keeping something from the woman who was dominating his every thought. So he had to wonder what was driving that. Concern for someone else or self-service?