ELI FELL OUT of his twin bed. Twice. “Damn it,” he shouted the second time he crashed to the ground. Surely the bed hadn’t been this small when he was a kid. It wasn’t possible. He’d have ended up with brain damage. And the carpet-on-concrete floor certainly hadn’t softened with age. Irritated, he shoved to his feet and wrestled the covers into place.
The pristine sky shone through the lone window. The sun was high; he needed to get his saddle-sore ass in gear. Besides, the aches and pains he’d earned from yesterday’s manual labor meant there’d be no more sleep. The gym was fine for building a body, but hard work revealed muscles a person forgot they had and, despite his exceptional physical conditioning, he apparently had a hell of a lot of those very muscles.
His phone rang and he dug it out of the pocket of his briefcase. The broken screen again scrambled the incoming number but chances were solid it was an Austin number. “Covington.”
The voice at the other end came through so garbled he couldn’t understand a single word.
“Hold on,” he said loudly, as if yelling would help. Jogging out of the room, he was up the stairs and outside before the signal cleared. “Covington,” he repeated.
“Mr. Covington, it’s Lynette.”
He fought a sigh. Lynette, his paralegal, was the best there was, but she could get a little codependent in his absence. She always had to have more direction on the larger cases when he was out of the office, a bit more reassurance in her decision making. But her output? It was the sole reason she was at the top of her field. She worked circles around the other paralegals once she was set on task, and what she produced was impeccable. Getting her to take the initiative without his approval proved the only challenge.
“What can I do for you, Lynette?”
“Sir, the president of Macallroy Oil is demanding an in-office meeting with you tomorrow at ten o’clock central time. I advised him you were out of the office, but he’s insisting you be here to discuss the prosecution’s settlement offer.” She drew a deep breath. “He’s livid, Mr. Covington.”
Eli pinched the bridge of his nose. “Explain to him my father passed away.”
“That was the first thing I did, sir. He was rather—” she sniffed “—vulgar in his response.”
Brows drawn together, Eli couldn’t imagine what the old jackass had said to earn his paralegal’s disapproval. She’d witnessed and heard plenty to toughen her skin. “Define vulgar.”
“I’d rather not.”
“And I’d like to know how hard I’ll be taking him to task when I return his call.”
She took a moment to answer, her voice low when she finally got around to it. “He said he didn’t care if you were stuck in the Australian Outback and your dick had been eaten by a dingo. You’d best slap a Band-Aid over your bare balls and get your ass to the meeting or, for what he’s paying you, he’d find another lawyer that would make Macallroy Oil his only priority.”
While it wasn’t exactly vulgar, particularly for the man in question, it had offended his paralegal, and Eli took exception to anyone abusing the people he considered himself responsible for. “If he calls in again, tell him I’ll be in touch within the hour.”
“Should I expect you in the office, Mr. Covington?”
Eli paused, thinking through the logistics. He could theoretically get to Austin today if he left now, but he’d only be able to make a single meeting. Then he’d have to get back here to carry out his responsibilities to his brothers. It seemed pointless, but Macallroy Oil was one of the firm’s most profitable clients, and pissing the old man off wouldn’t end well for anyone.
Sighing, he closed his eyes and tipped his head to the sky. He usually had no problem prioritizing. But the current demands were all pulling him in different directions, and he didn’t know how to manage what everyone expected of him.
In the distance, someone fired the tractor up. Cattle called out at the promise of food, rattling the chains that held the metal gates as they jostled for the best positions at the round bale feeders. Overhead, the sun beat down on his face and warmed his skin.
“Are those...cows?” Confusion infused Lynette’s question.
“Yeah.” Eli hadn’t shared his background with his coworkers. The most anyone at the firm knew, he’d moved to Austin to go to school and had stayed. Nothing more personal ever passed his lips.
“Where are you, Mr. Covington?”
He hesitated. “Taking care of some business.” Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to reveal his rural upbringing, to admit ties to this place he’d called home for nineteen years.
He’d worked hard to cultivate his image, one of urbane sophistication, not that of an unpolished, dirt-road-driving, tractor-owning cowhand. He rolled his shoulders and ground his teeth.
Shoving a hand in one pocket of his jeans, he forced himself to admit that for the first time, he was ashamed of himself for leaving the ranch and his family as he had. He’d always blamed his old man for not being able to see past Eli’s shortcomings. Not once had Eli recognized in himself the longing to be different—he’d just wanted to be “better” than the people he’d grown up with.
He’d dismissed them en masse after his mother died. The lack of civilization had killed her, he’d believed. But in truth? She’d made her place here. She’d been the epitome of class and grace. She’d displayed loyalty and affection, been a good friend and neighbor and more. He’d been the uncivilized one.
He’d been so full of self-righteousness he’d never even tried to look for the good in this place and the people who made it what it was. Shit. He’d really screwed this up.
Or being here was screwing him up. He’d never questioned his choice to leave, never felt guilty about the man he’d been or the man he’d become. Not until all this emotional bullshit started sticking to his borrowed boots.
“Are you there, Mr. Covington?”
He forced himself to speak. “Yeah. If Macallroy calls, tell him I’ll be in touch within the hour. I’ll be there for the meeting, but do not advertise my availability to anyone else. There’s too much left to do with this estate business, so I’ll be returning after that meeting.”
“Yes, sir. Do you need me to make travel arrangements?”
“No. I’ve got it. Have a good afternoon.” He disconnected and went back into the house, sank into his dad’s favorite recliner and used the house phone to call Macallroy.
The old man answered on the second ring. “Don Macallroy.”
“Don, it’s Elijah Covington.”
“So your little secretary managed to reach you? Figured she would if I made it clear I’m prepared to walk.”
“Let’s not get off on the wrong foot here, Don. While I appreciate your creativity in having me unmanned by a dingo, my father died. There are obligations to the family I have to fulfill.”
“Unless those particular obligations fund your bank account, you’ve got your priorities out of order, Covington. I provide the income that allows you to live the lifestyle you do.”
“You’re not my only client. And my lifestyle and how I pay for it is none of your concern, Don,” Eli snapped. He’d intended to keep this entirely professional no matter how the old man goaded him, but Eli’s front-porch epiphany had brought too much emotion to the surface. Still...
“Don, I’m trying to work with you here. The best I can offer is a nine o’clock Skype call tomorrow morning. I’m not coming into Austin for a personal meeting, because I have to attend the first probate hearing at the local court by one tomorrow afternoon. That’s not negotiable. But I’m willing to work with you remotely to settle whatever has disturbed you.”
“You’d better come to the virtual table with some answers, Covington.”
“Anything in particular?” The cold edge to Eli’s words was unmistakable.
The old man matched his tone. “I want to know what the hell would prompt you to encourage us to settle for $35 million. You’re supposed to be on our side in this, but I get the distinct impression Macallroy Oil is getting the shaft, and the bitch isn’t using lube.”
Eli’s stomach pitched as his ethics bucked wildly. His client had run an oil carrier ashore. The hull had been breached and the crude had been dumped into the North Atlantic. Every study conducted indicated the disaster would affect the environment for the next twenty years. He’d proposed they accept this settlement because, if anything, Macallroy Oil should be paying three times the amount. But it wasn’t Eli’s job to point out his client was “lucky.” It was his job to get the bastard the best deal he could. It wasn’t the first time he’d been faced with having to do something that went against his personal beliefs. For some reason, though, this particular event chafed worse than ever.
“Conference call at nine tomorrow, Don. It’s the best I can do.” He barely refrained from adding Take it or leave it, with the hope the old man would leave it.
“Mind yourself, Covington,” Macallroy said softly. There was a distinctive click.
Eli fought the urge to punch something. He needed to go for a run, lift some weights, throw some hay around—something. It wasn’t an option, though. Not with so much to do.
He called Lynette to let her know he wouldn’t be coming in after all, and instead asked her to email him the Macallroy files and arrange the conference call with his fellow attorney on the case, Amanda English, and then Don. He wasn’t dealing with the old man without witnesses.
Eli disconnected at the same time Cade came through the front door.
The other man paused, looking him over. “Odd seeing you in Dad’s chair. Hell, it’s odd seeing you here at all.” Then he surprised Eli by moving to the sofa and flopping down. “Damn, but I’m worn-out.” His gaze focused on the rolling fields outside the big picture window. “I’ve got to admit I’m surprised you’re up and moving. Figured after last night you’d have packed your bags and be headed to your life in the city fast as your borrowed boots would take you.”
“The boots are actually my old ones.” Eli shrugged. “They’re a little tight, but they fit about as well as this life ever did.”
Cade’s gaze locked on him, detached curiosity swimming in his eyes. “You ever miss it?”
Eli slid low in the recliner and crossed his hands loosely over his stomach. He took a second to figure out how to answer honestly. He’d realized in the past thirty-plus hours that there were things he missed.
Enough to come home?
Never.
His brother started to get up, shaking his head. “Your silence says more than enough.”
“Sit,” Eli ordered.
Cade’s gaze narrowed.
“Please,” he amended, breathing easier when Cade sank back onto the sofa. “It’s just something I didn’t expect you to ask, and I wanted to think about how best to answer. If you’d asked me yesterday, I would’ve said there was nothing I missed. Now?” He sat forward, propping his forearms on his knees. “Yeah. There are things I miss. Some more than others.”
“Saw you with Reagan.”
Eli’s chin whipped up and his eyes locked on Cade’s. “I would argue there wasn’t much to see.”
“Depends on how hard someone was looking, I suppose.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Cade considered Eli. “You came home for Ty.”
The rest of the statement was left off but might as well have been shouted—but not for me.
“Ty asked me to come home and help with the estate.” Eli swallowed, weighing every word twice before he continued. “You asked me to come home and stay. I couldn’t, Cade. I don’t belong here.”
“Did you ever consider that the two of us, me and Ty, might have had dreams of our own? Your leaving meant we were obligated to stay. Me particularly, because I inherited the title of oldest whether I wanted it or not.”
Resentment colored his every word, but the exhaustion behind it all was what hit Eli the hardest. “I thought you wanted to be here.”
“What I wanted didn’t matter after you took off. Dad took me aside and explained what he expected. You know how he was.” Cade’s gaze drifted back to the window. “I didn’t want to leave him, didn’t want to put it all on Ty.” He faced Eli. “So I stayed.”
“What did you want to do instead?” Eli asked quietly.
“Doesn’t matter anymore.” Standing, Cade stretched.
“I’ve got a conference call tomorrow at nine with a difficult client. Dad’s office have internet?”
“Dial-up. Doubt it’s fast enough for what you need. Reagan’s place has satellite internet. We’ve used it before to place large orders.”
“I’ll ask her if I can use it, then. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Cade slapped his cowboy hat on. “State vet will be here at noon tomorrow. Wouldn’t hurt to have you around to speak legalese.”
“I’ll be here.”
“We’ll see,” Cade muttered, heading outside.
“Cade?” Eli called.
The man paused and glanced over his shoulder, one hand on the screen door, waiting.
“I won’t leave you guys to handle this alone.” It wasn’t the apology Eli had intended to offer, but it was what came out. It was a place to start.
Cade gave a short nod and went on outside.
Eli pushed out of the chair and, without thinking too hard, grabbed the keys to one of the ranch trucks and headed out.
* * *
THE KNOCK AT the door dragged Reagan out of a deep sleep. Squinting at the late-afternoon sunlight, she sat up and rubbed her bleary eyes. Brisket had crashed out on his dog bed on the floor beside her, but the knock had brought the dog up on all fours facing the front of the house.
A toss of the quilt exposed her overheated skin to the air-conditioned room and goose bumps broke out all over. That’s when she realized her hair was half-wrapped in the towel, the bottom half of its length still damp.
“Great,” she muttered to the dog. “I’m going to open the door looking like Medusa. If I turn anyone to stone, you’ll dig the hole to bury the evidence. Deal?”
He wagged his tail.
“Excellent.” Shoving her feet into slippers, she finger combed her hair as best she could and started for the door.
A second, louder knock sounded.
“Coming!” Yes, she worked for people, but damn if their general impatience didn’t make her a little crazy at times. She yanked the door open and nearly knocked herself over. “Eli?”
“Hey.” His heated gaze roamed over her body, taking in her thin cami and tiny sleep shorts, before trailing down her legs and back up to her face. “Can I come in for a second?”
“Stay,” she ordered Brisket. Heart pounding in her ears, she stepped out on the porch and pulled the door closed behind her. “I’m not sure it’s the best idea right now.”
He gave a short nod. “You’re beautiful.”
Heat burned her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”
“I have to talk to you.”
Reagan’s stomach plummeted. A hundred possible reasons why he would have come raced through her mind, but only one stuck. He was done with her. It had taken him one literal roll in the hay, and he was finished. “So talk.”
Dark brows winged down over blue eyes. “You have a problem with letting me in your house for this conversation?”
“Some conversations don’t need coffee and a couch. Just get it over with.”
He jerked as if she’d slapped him. “This is quite a bit different than my reception this morning.”
Lips thin, she lifted one shoulder in an approximation of a shrug.
Eli rolled his head. “I’m here to ask a favor.”
That threw her. “I’m sorry?”
“A favor.” Eli propped one hip on the porch rail. “I’d appreciate it if I could borrow your office tomorrow morning a little before nine. I have a conference call with a difficult client and some of my office staff. The ranch office doesn’t have enough bandwidth to carry the call. Cade suggested I ask if I could use your place.”
“You’re here to borrow my office?” Heat crawled up her neck and across her cheeks.
“Yeah. Why? What did you think...?” His brows shot up. “You thought I was here to end this thing between us?”
She crossed her arms under her breasts and forced herself to meet his wide-eyed stare. “It crossed my mind.”
Slowly standing, he moved toward her. The wild heat in his gaze said she couldn’t have been any more wrong.
Reagan retreated up until she was pressed against the front door, her hand fumbling to find the doorknob. He reached out and gently grasped her wrist, pulling it forward and placing it around his neck. He did the same with her other hand. Then he bent, hooked his arms under her butt and lifted her straight up. “Legs around my waist.”
“We’re on my front porch,” she whispered.
“In the middle of nowhere.”
“Clients regularly come by without an appointment.”
“Legs, Reagan.”
She secretly reveled in his brute strength as she wrapped her legs around his waist. And gasped. The hard ridge of his erection rubbed at her sex through the seriously thin cotton of her sleep shorts. Her nipples beaded. Breaths came shallow and fast as he shifted her so her feminine lips parted. The rough edge of his jeans scraped tender flesh and she tightened her arms and legs around him. “Eli,” she whispered roughly.
He supported her ass, fumbling to get his zipper down. The heat of his erection nearly scalded her skin as the broad head of his cock slipped inside her shorts. On contact, he buried his face in her neck and let out a tortured groan. “Damn it, Reagan. You’re not wearing underwear.”
“I got out of the shower and grabbed a nap.”
“And now I’m not only thinking about you naked, but soapy and wet, too.” He lifted his face and shared a tight smile with her. “You’re trying to reduce me to the green kid I used to be and make me come before I’ve had my way with you.” He dug his wallet out one-handed. “Condom’s behind the driver’s license.”
Shoulders propped against the front door as he held her up by the thighs, she fumbled through his wallet, found the condom and tossed the wallet aside. He ripped the condom wrapper with his teeth and sheathed his erection. Then he was there, pushing inside her, giving no quarter as he pulled her down his length.
Chest to chest, he never took his eyes off hers. “You’re so damn tight.”
Gripping his hips and using his neck as a fulcrum, she pressed her forehead to his before she lifted herself up his length.
He hissed. “Sweet hell.”
His mouth claimed hers with authority, challenging her to meet the thrust of his tongue in time with the thrust of his hips. The width of his cock stretched her to a point where pain and pleasure converged and she reveled in it. Every thrust was a kind of claiming. And the words he whispered in her ear, the things he said he was going to do to her, took her higher.
She rode him harder, leaning back far enough to force him to widen his stance and bend his knees a little more. Her tempo increased, nails digging into the soft skin on his neck. “Eli,” she breathed, unable to stop herself from calling out his name.
Hands on her hips, he encouraged her to move faster, rougher. He leaned her forward just enough to ensure the root of his cock scraped her clit with every thrust.
Her eyes widened and, before she could think about how good that really felt, the orgasm crashed over her. Her walls tightened around him and her whole body shook with the ferocity of her release. She was carried away on a surge of pleasure unlike any she’d ever experienced.
His fingers dug into her ass and then, with a shout, he let go. Hips pumping hard, she felt the pulses along the length of his cock as his release moved through him. His movements became sporadic, slowed and then stopped. He pressed her shoulders against the front door, pinning her there with his chest as his hands gripped her thighs. Breathing raggedly, he laid a gentle kiss on her lips. “So, can I use your internet?”
The question was so off-the-wall that she burst out laughing. “For this? You can even use my long-distance service if the connection cuts out. Just don’t touch my red Swingline stapler.”
He narrowed his eyes as he set her down. “What would I have to do to be able to use the stapler?”
“I’m not sure you’re cut out for it,” she said, getting her feet under her.
Turning, she opened the door and Brisket jumped out, tail wagging. He went straight to Eli and pressed his body up against the man’s leg. Big brown eyes lifted to watch as Eli tucked himself inside his jeans and zipped up.
The ease with which Brisket accepted Eli made her chest tight. It was as if the man just belonged, and that was the farthest thing from the truth that could possibly be said. From his expensive haircut to his smooth hands with their fresh blisters, Eli didn’t belong here. Never had. This could only last a few days at most, and then he’d be gone. They’d both be in the places they belonged, both alone again, though he was certain not to stay that way, whereas she seemed tormented by ghosts.
“Hey, buddy.” Eli rubbed the dog’s ears. “Let’s get inside.” He gestured awkwardly to his groin. “I would pay good money to have the chance to clean up.” Brisket trotted into the house. “Smart dog,” Eli commented.
“Brilliant,” she answered, watching the dog curiously. Trying to recapture the lighthearted mood of moments before, she looked over her shoulder as she headed inside. “Seems his judge of character might be warped, but he’s hell on cattle so I’ll keep him.”
“Hey!” Eli slapped her ass. “My character’s just fine.”
“Your character’s as warped as an untreated two-by-four left out through a good wet season.”
“Wench,” he growled, scooping her up and starting for the bathroom.
Panic struck her as unexpectedly as a rattlesnake strike. “No. Don’t go into the bathroom. I don’t want to use the bathroom.”
Eli stopped and glanced down at her, the deep V between his brows seeming unnatural. “I’m seriously hoping you’re not suggesting we use the stock tanks. Always makes me nervous to dunk my junk in there. A lot of those tanks have catfish.” He shuddered.
“Put me down. Please.”
He set her on her feet. “What’s wrong?”
She pushed her hair off her forehead. How did she explain that this entire house was tied to Luke? How did she tell Eli that she couldn’t do this here, have him in the space that Luke had loved so dearly? The porch had pushed boundaries. This blew past them without slowing down to even appreciate the posted emotional speed limit.
“Reagan?”
Truth, then. “This is Luke’s house.”
Eli studied her until she couldn’t meet his direct stare any longer.
His boot steps advertised his approach. Prepared for his touch, she didn’t flinch when he gently grasped her chin and encouraged her to meet his eyes. “I respect the fact this was your late husband’s house. Would you prefer I use the guest bath?”
She opened and closed her mouth. Words eluded her.
“Which way?” he asked, scanning the open living room.
“Second door on the left,” Reagan croaked, pointing in the opposite direction.
“Catch you out here in fifteen? I’d like to shower really fast.”
“You’re not mad?” she whispered.
His lips were soft, the kiss tender. “Never.”
She watched him stride down the hall in the direction she’d indicated and stood there until the door to the spare bath clicked closed.
Moving like an automaton, she turned toward her bedroom. Five minutes to clean up and dress. She couldn’t let herself think about anything else, couldn’t let history catch up to her. Because if she stood still too long, it wouldn’t just catch up with her, it would level her.
That was the power of ghosts.