To his credit, his dad had chuckled at the small boy’s attempt rather than getting madder, and after shoving the boy aside, he’d stumbled from the house. Times got better from then on because his mother had finally gotten up the nerve to kick the old man to the curb and file for a divorce. And after his father’s variousattempts to come back, she’d hired a locksmith to change the locks on the door.
Remembering both his and Lance’s reaction to the news made him squirm. Goodbye and good riddance had been their honest response when their mother had sat them both down and told them about her decision. He’d meant it. So had Lance.
Why the hell hadn’t he learned a lesson from those days and remembered how he’d felt then about the disgusting behavior of a drunk who thought the world owed him?
Suddenly, the image of Lance and his mother began to form. They’d always gotten on so well. In fact, one could say he’d been the apple of his mother’s eye… while she’d left him no choice but to be his father’s son.
Chapter Three
Finally, Rachel said goodnight to her children and went into her bedroom to grieve for her man. Once she’d undressed and pulled on Damon’s first Christmas present of faded baby-doll jammies with silly puppies decorating them, she relaxed under the covers and let herself go back in time.
Recalling their first meeting when he’d approached her at the bank where she worked as a bank teller, she sighed. Saving her money to go to college and make her dreams of a future in finance come true had been her goal all through high school.
Only they hadn’t. Instead, Damon had erupted on the scene, and her world shifted to include him and ignore her other ambitions. Remembering how he’d flirted with her, making her feel like a princess, she’d drifted along in the sensations that being attractive to Damon had flourished.
After leaving school, she’d felt so grown up and in control of her destiny. Then a husky voice, shocking in it’s daring, spoke to her and she fell… hard. “Hey, darling, how come I’ve never noticed you here before?”
She’d looked up from her cash drawer and there stood a man wearing a shabby black leather jacket over a jean shirt stretched over a muscular frame. His dark hair had been groomed, his day-old beard covered his face, with the faint beginnings of a mustache that suited him, as did the thick eyebrows and lush lips. Unable to stop her blush, she cleared her throat so as not to squeak out her reply. “I used to work in the back room. But they’re training me on cash now, so I’m with the customers all the time.”
“Well, hallelujah for their wisdom in putting you out with us lowly, thankful people. Guess I’ll have to become a regular at this branch.”
His sexy, teasing grin had her staring into his twinkling enjoyment and unexpectedly, it made her laugh. A reply formed itself. “Glad to be of service.”What!Rachel! What are you doing?Stumbling over her forwardness, she blushed even more, hiding her red face by pretending to check her cash drawer. Not being a girl used to flirting, she just didn’t have the skills to carry on this way and pull it off.
As if he sensed her predicament, the man’s voice lowered, and he leaned closer. “Hold it, sweet girl. Of course… there’s a catch.”
“What’s that?” Rachel found it hard to believe that the hot-looking dude standing at her till was seriously coming on to her.
“If you’ll have lunch with me, I’ll open an account here so I can see you all the time.”
Her knees shook, and her hands fumbled with the money she had collected. The bundle of cash she would pay him in exchange for his government check.
That day, she met him for lunch and lost her heart to the hot-blooded, motorcycle riding hero who took her for a ride of a lifetime.
God… she’d loved being his woman. Seeing other females covertly and not so covertly staring at him and his muscularbody had made her feel ever so lucky. Walking the streets, holding his hand gave her such a high that she couldn’t get over her good fortune. Going to bed at night with his image in her mind and finding him still there to greet her in the morning had turned her world into a living miracle. Lordy, they’d had such good times. So many.
Sadly, that feeling of being the luckiest woman alive had faded once the real world began to knock at her door and invade her illusions. Now he was gone. Oh God, losing him might have been a tickle in the back of her mind but… not this way.
***
Without warning, Damon could see his petite, blonde-haired Rachel crying as if her heart were broken. It bothered him to watch as she held his t-shirt against her tears, weeping for him. What was happening? He called out to her, “I’m here.” But she didn’t pay any attention. Angry, he yelled louder at her to stop behaving like a baby and go to sleep. Morning would come soon.
Usually, his irate tone would work, and she’d listen, even come to him and wrap her arms around his waist so he would calm down. His lady didn’t like to see him upset or hurt. She loved him so deeply, that it broke her if he suffered. At least, that’s what she used to tell him.
Not so much over the last few years. The hard times they endured with the damaged economy and the stress put on him to produce more and more from a man who hated pressure had taken it’s toll. Even when things picked up and the business began doing better, he withheld huge chunks of money, unwilling to share with the family.
Rachel’s sobbing broke into his thoughts. Wishing she’d stop behaving so weakly, he moved to get closer. Weirdly, the distance stayed the same no matter how much he wanted to puthis hands on her. To insist she stop this ridiculous behavior. Behavior that made him cringe.
Frustrated, he began to shout. “Stop! Now! Rachel, please. Quit crying. I’m right here.”
Except she didn’t even look up. Instead, she threw herself across his side of the bed and hugged his pillow, her sad voice echoing in his head. “Why did you leave me, Damon? I loved you. Why? God, why? How are the kids and I going to survive?”
Chapter Four
When the doorbell rang early the next morning, Rachel left the bed and dragged her weighted body across to the front room. Waking to the realization that her current nightmare had struck her like a punch in the gut, she took a few seconds to swipe her hands across her tear-filled eyes. With her rampaging emotions still hovering, she sniffed and took a second before reaching out to twist the knob.
As she suspected, her husband’s brother stood there, his head down, hands in the front pockets of his worn jeans, and his shoulders slumped. Bad news sizzled like an electric charge around the weary man.
“Hi, Lance. Come on in.”
