Nick had no idea what to do with the disheveled pair.
They’d complicated his lunch break by deciding to have a tryst in the equipment shed, of all places. Brent stood silent, his hair sweaty and his neck flushed. He couldn’t defend his behavior, so he didn’t try. The young lady he’d been caught with threw herself at Nick’s feet in the most dramatic fashion possible.
“Please,” she sobbed. “Don’t tell anyone. He’ll be exiled.”
Nick figured she should be worried about herself more than Brent. Adulterous women were probably stoned in the town square, or hung from the church rafters in this hellhole. She continued to beg and plead, looking up at him with teary eyes. It was incredibly uncomfortable. “Get up,” he said.
She stood, but didn’t let go of him. “Please, Brother Nick. Promise you won’t tell.”
Nick wasn’t sure how to extricate himself from her. He raised his hands at his sides instead of pushing her away. Brent slid his arm around her waist and hauled her back a few steps. She clasped her palms together, still weeping.
“Don’t come back here,” Nick said.
“I won’t.”
“Go on, then. Before I change my mind.”
When Brent released her, she hurried up the hillside and took off toward the commune. She ran like the devil was on her heels.
Nick turned to Brent. “Brother Sage’s wife?”
“Her name is Nadine.”
“You two have done this before?”
Brent didn’t answer. So that meant yes.
Nick raked a hand through his hair, unsure where to begin. He gestured to the shed. “That can’t happen again.”
“It won’t.”
Nick didn’t believe him. He also didn’t blame him, or Nadine. She was married to a man in his forties. Teenagers had no sexual outlet in an oppressive religious community like this. They couldn’t date or experiment. What were they supposed to do? “If you keep messing around with her, you’re going to get caught. By someone who won’t stay quiet.”
Brent nodded, his jaw clenched.
“Are you taking precautions?”
“Precautions?”
“Against pregnancy.”
Brent gave him a curious look. “What kind of precautions?”
“Forget it,” Nick said, dropping the subject. It wasn’t his place to school this kid on the withdrawal method—which wasn’t reliable anyway—or lecture him about poor judgment. Brent was a good farmworker. As long as he stopped using the shed as his hookup shack, Nick didn’t care what he did. He collected his canteen before starting off down the road. Brent walked with him, his demeanor subdued.
“Do you know anyone who’s been exiled?” Nick asked.
“Brother Caleb,” Brent replied.
“What happened to him?”
“They say he got the devil in him and attacked one of the guards. But I don’t believe it.”
“Why not?”
“He was in love with Grace.”
Nick snapped his head around. “Father Jeff’s wife?”
“That’s the one.”
“How long ago was he exiled?”
“Nine months,” Brent said.
The significance of this time frame wasn’t lost on Nick. Grace was almost ready to deliver. Holy hell. Had they ousted a teenaged boy for having a sexual affair with the leader’s wife? And had he really been allowed to walk away after committing such an egregious sin?
“I wouldn’t mind being exiled, if Nadine could come with me,” Brent said.
“Do females get exiled?”
“No.”
“Then put that idea out of your mind.”
“She was my girl before she was his wife,” Brent said.
Nick didn’t respond to this statement, which was rife with despair and longing.
“He doesn’t even like her. He hardly touches her.”
“Even more reason for you to stay away.”
“Why is that?”
“If she gets pregnant, he’ll know it’s not his.”
Brent went quiet again. Nick hoped he was thinking about the consequences of his actions, which should scare the bejesus out of him. But Nick also knew how the teenage mind and body worked. All of those fears and anxieties faded in moments of extreme excitement, leaving only one thought—to have her.
Nick had a grown man’s experience and control, and he was still struggling to keep his hands off Avery.
They washed up and parted ways before entering the dining hall. Nick grabbed a plate and joined Avery. Lunch was soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, with a ripe peach for dessert. He was too hungry to make conversation. Avery had finished her meal before he’d arrived, so she watched him eat. She wore a standoffish expression, which didn’t surprise him. He’d bossed her around and kissed her in front of Jonah. He supposed he should apologize, but he didn’t regret the kiss. That moment had been the highlight of his day.
She slid an object across the table, hidden under her hand. “Put this in your pocket.”
His watch! Hot damn. He could have kissed her again. “How’d you get it?” he asked, tucking the item away.
“I asked Jonah for it.”
“Did you get your glasses, too?”
“Yes.”
He picked up the peach, impressed. “Nicely done.”
“You have to keep it out of sight.”
“No problem.”
Getting his watch back lifted his mood considerably. So did her presence. He enjoyed being with her, even when she was mad at him. She made him feel less jaded about humanity. He’d been wallowing in darkness too long, fantasizing about revenge.
Now he was fantasizing about her.
When they were alone in the cabin, he’d fill her in on what he’d learned today. For now, he just sat back and admired her. He liked the contrast between her sooty eyebrows and golden hair. He liked her wary blue eyes and the freckles across her nose. He liked her skin, when she was flushed and when she wasn’t. He liked the color and shape of her lips.
While he studied her, she studied the crowd around them.
“How’s your day been?” he asked.
“I’ll tell you later,” she said in a low voice. She tilted her head to the right. “Why is that girl staring at you?”
Nick glanced in the direction she indicated, where Nadine was dining with Brother Sage. She averted her gaze quickly, her cheeks red. Nick imagined she was afraid he would tell someone about her indiscretion. It might get discovered, regardless. In a community this small, her trip to the fields wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. Instead of acknowledging her, Nick scanned the other tables and polished off his peach. “I’ll tell you later.”
Avery frowned at this answer. She rose with her tray and left him sitting there. He took care of his own tray and followed her outside. He sensed that she was upset about something beyond his domineering behavior earlier. He hoped she hadn’t been harassed by Jonah, or any other creepy bastard. This place was crawling with them.
“I’m sorry about this morning,” he said.
“Are you?”
“I didn’t want to get caught arguing.”
“You didn’t want me to visit the graveyard. Why?”
“I told you why,” he said, holding her gaze. Damn her psychologist’s insights. He hadn’t been completely honest with her, and when she found out the truth, there would be hell to pay. Nick’s only option right now was brazening it out.
She didn’t continue her interrogation because there were other people milling around. Before she left, she returned this morning’s favor by leaning close to him and lifting her mouth to his. Any onlooker might have described the kiss as soft and loving. It wasn’t. She caught his lower lip between her teeth and bit him. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to get his attention.
“God’s grace,” she said sweetly, and walked away.
Nick watched her until she disappeared around the corner. A feeling he couldn’t name welled up inside him. This woman affected him like no other woman had. She was keeping him on his toes. She was driving him crazy. And, if he wasn’t careful, she was going to be the death of him. He touched the watch in his pocket, his heart pounding with unease. Then he headed back to the fields, ready to work until he dropped.
Brent jogged into step beside him. Nick wasn’t in the mood for company. He wanted to tell the kid to get lost, but he restrained himself. He could endure the earnest teenager’s presence, as long as he didn’t picture him with his pants down.
“How old is your wife?” Brent asked.
“Thirty-one.”
Brent seemed surprised. He probably didn’t believe hot women could be over thirty. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“Is that normal for outsiders? To marry someone close in age?”
“Not everyone does, but most do.”
Brent glanced around to make sure they weren’t being listened to. “Have you, um, used precautions?”
Now Nick understood why he’d started this conversation. Brent wanted to learn how to continue his dalliance with Nadine, sans consequences. Nick was annoyed by his ignorance, and he blamed Brent for rousing Avery’s suspicions. “What I do with my wife is none of your business, Brent.”
“Oh,” Brent said. His mouth went slack. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be.”
That shut him up. They continued to the fields, where Nick rewarded Brent with an afternoon of tilling. As he supervised the planting and watering, his eyes strayed to the tree near the fence line. He’d found rope in the shed, but he couldn’t hop over the fence and peek under the camouflage in broad daylight. He’d have to come back tonight.
The plan of attack helped him focus. He was getting too distracted by his feelings for Avery, too wound up with physical desire. He vowed to concentrate on the investigation and stop worrying about the peripheral details.
People. Relationships. Unnecessary complications.
Who needed them?
Nick buried himself in manual labor for the rest of the afternoon. Brent tilled the earth as if his salvation depended on it. Neither of them found peace, as far as Nick could tell. Backbreaking work was a poor substitute for sexual release.
When the dinner bell rang, they returned to the commune to wash up. Avery was late for dinner. She arrived ten minutes after Nick. He devoured everything on his plate and finished the leftovers on hers.
“Where were you?” he asked.
“With a patient.”
“Which one?”
“Brother Joseph. He has a broken ankle.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Do they faith-heal broken bones here?”
She smiled faintly. “Dr. Winslow set it.”
They headed to the cabin, which seemed smaller and more confined than ever. The tension of the day boiled inside him, needing release. He pulled his shirt over his head, tossed it in the sink and started scrubbing. He didn’t expect her to do “women’s work” for him, and she didn’t offer. When he glanced over his shoulder, she was watching him.
“Well?” she prompted.
He went back to scrubbing. “Well, what?”
“Why was Sage’s wife staring at you?”
Nick explained what he’d interrupted earlier.
“You promised not to tell on them?”
He shrugged, rinsing the soap from the fabric. “I didn’t want to get involved.”
“That’s very permissive of you.”
“No, it’s not,” he said. “I told her not to come back, and I told him to stop messing around with her.”
“You think he’ll listen?”
“As long as they don’t use my toolshed as their love shack, I don’t care.” He wrung the moisture from his shirt with more force than necessary. He felt her eyes on him, spanning his shoulders and biceps. He wondered if he looked as good to her as she did to him. His muscles were sore from the hard work, but still primed for action. The veins in his forearms stood out in harsh relief. He was sweaty and dirty, but the discomfort didn’t bother him. She bothered him. This conversation bothered him. His guilty conscience bothered him.
Nick tossed the shirt aside and gripped the edge of the sink, his head low. “There’s something else.”
“What?”
He recited the information he’d heard about Caleb and Grace.
Avery’s cheeks went pale at the implication. “This boy was exiled after getting caught with Grace?”
“That’s what Brent suggested.”
“What do you think happened to him?”
Nick didn’t say that he suspected “exile” was a euphemism for “execution.” He wondered if there was an unmarked grave in the nearby woods. He made a mental note to search the immediate area during his recon mission tonight.
Instead of disclosing those plans to her, he picked up his wet shirt and twisted the fabric to wring the excess moisture from it. Her gaze slid down his torso like melted ice. He guessed she liked what she saw, because she kept looking. He turned his back on her, jaw clenched.
Avery had accused him of using sex to avoid his feelings. He wished he could do that now, because he ached to touch her.
Unfortunately, there was an insurmountable obstacle between them. The deceptive tactics he’d used to gain her as a partner meant he’d never have her as his woman. In her apartment, he’d convinced himself that the sacrifice would be worth it. He’d been wrong.
“You’re angry,” she said in a soft voice.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Because he wanted her, and he couldn’t have her. He wanted her on the kitchen counter with her blouse open and her skirt hiked up. He wanted to be inside her.
Her fingertips skimmed his naked back, and he hissed with pleasure. Arousal throbbed in his veins and his groin flooded with heat. Her breaths quickened, fanning his skin. She slid her slender arms around his waist and touched her lips to his shoulder.
His entire body responded to the contact. This cabin wasn’t big enough for the both of them, plus his erection.
Instead of turning around and lifting her against the sink, he removed her hands from his clenched abs. He imagined those smooth hands lower, exploring his swollen length. He imagined her fingers stroking him. With a tortured groan, he twisted away and thrust his shirt at her. “Hang this up for me, will you?”
Her mouth dropped open. Twin flags of color stained her cheeks. She accepted the shirt, eyes flashing, and stormed outside.
If Nick knew anything about women, it was that they didn’t take rejection lightly. They were used to being chased, not doing the chasing. Any sexual offer they made was expected to be snapped up with eager appreciation. A woman like Avery didn’t have to beg a man to take her to bed. If she issued an invitation, and he passed… It was over.
It was over.
In the meantime, he would die from this hard-on. RIP, Nick Diaz.
He watched from the window as she hung up his damp shirt and snatched the dry one off the line. She returned from the task in less than a minute. His arousal hadn’t abated. He couldn’t hide it, so he didn’t bother trying. She surveyed his bare chest and distended fly. Then she threw the dry shirt at him. The lightweight fabric didn’t have enough heft to reach him. It sailed to the floor, short of her target.
Making a sound of frustration, she retreated to the bedroom. If there had been a door, she’d have slammed it in his face.
He picked up his shirt, smiling a little. The situation wasn’t particularly funny. It was painful, and awkward, and emotionally wrought. It was passionate. It was everything he’d never wanted, and everything he hadn’t known he was missing.
He was probably in love with her. That was why he felt like his guts had been yanked from his abdominal cavity and his dick had turned to stone. Draping the shirt over a chair, he settled down on his mat on the floor. Although it was barely twilight, he needed to get some rest if he was going out later.
He closed his eyes, but didn’t sleep.