Welcome to Last Chance (Last Chance #1)(29)
Author: Hope Ramsay

Jane didn’t have the heart or the courage to explain to him that he was a piker when it came to bad karma and bad luck. When it came to that kind of thing, she was the absolute queen of the Universe, which was the reason why the Universe had sent her here to listen to his story and tell him it was okay.

“So I guess you have to go rescue him now, huh?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

His hands played down her back and came to rest at the curve of her hip. He pulled her closer so that the contours of his thighs pressed against her. She wanted to melt right into him. Maybe he’d been fat once, but there wasn’t any part of the man’s body that wasn’t rock hard now.

“I’m sorry, Jane,” Clay said. “I wish I could tell you I had honorable intentions. But that’s not the case. I just want you. Bad. I just want to lose myself in you, even though it’s probably a huge mistake. That’s how I felt on Wednesday. And I still feel that way. It’s a case of runaway lust, and I’m weak.”

He leaned down and captured her mouth. He was probably right about this being a mistake, but she opened up for him just the same. The rush hit her head and her heart and her core and her sexual places and almost buckled her knees. And then, just to punctuate the point, Clay linked a series of moist wet kisses down her jaw and into the hollow of her neck right to the place where he’d given her the hickey on Wednesday.

Jane had gone to great lengths to hide that love bite, but she did nothing to stop him from working that place against her neck. Instead, she found the elastic that held his hair back and pulled it free. His hair tumbled around them. He pressed himself against her—all hard bones and soft hair. His mouth worked at her neck, and little by little, Jane lost the ability to think rationally.

Oh, yeah, this was all about hormones and chemistry. Hot, dangerous, forbidden chemistry. The kind of experiment that ended up with something being torched or blown to smithereens.

“Lord a’mighty,” he said against her neck. “You drive me crazy. All I can think about is pushing you upside the van and, well…” His hands made a slow circuit of her br**sts and then moved to her shoulders. She was ready for his next move, knowing that what he wanted—what they wanted—was less than what either of them needed.

“But I’m not going to do that,” he said in a deep and husky voice. “And not because you have some misguided notion of wanting to be my friend, either. That’s BS, Jane. We are not going to be each other’s friends, and we both know it.”

Her heart sank—and soared. “It’s because you think I’m bad for you, isn’t it? A mistake,” Jane said.

“No, that’s not the reason,” he replied. And her heart took flight again. Oh, Lord, being with him was like riding a roller coaster.

“Then why?”

“Because the next time I get nak*d with you, I’m not going to let myself think too hard about it. In fact, I’m going to let myself enjoy the ride. And when we have sex again, you are going to scream my name out loud.”

“Oh.” Her voice strangled in her throat because the fire in his eyes told her he intended to do what he said. She wanted it, too. Just the way he said. Even though her heart kept saying she wanted more than just that from him.

“And I’d go for it right now, but I’m kind of in a hurry. I gotta rescue Ray,” he said, sealing the deal. She understood where she stood with him. She was just the girl he had the hots for. The one he wanted right now because he was in the middle of a life crisis.

“Okay,” Jane said, but it wasn’t okay. She swallowed hard, trying to keep the disappointment at bay.

“Look, tomorrow is Sunday and that gets kinda busy,” he said in a tight voice. “I’ll give you a call, okay?”

She didn’t know how to respond to this. It was the classic line guys gave when they had to think things over. It was okay. She needed to think things over, too.

So Jane said nothing. He took it for assent, which was typical of most men. Then he let her go, climbed into his van, and fired that baby up. He left her standing there in the dust as he pulled out of the parking lot going faster than was altogether necessary.

Behind her, Ricki and Tricia opened the door to the bar and strode out into the alley together. They were both mad as hell—at each other, at her, but mostly at Clay, who was leaving them all in the dust.

The sound of the jukebox carried out into the night. Bubba Lockheart had punched up that stupid Tumbleweed song again, and the lyrics hit Jane upside the head and made her dizzy.

Do you love me more than need me?

Baby I gotta know

’Cause if it’s just needing, then

I gotta go.

Chapter 14

Thelma Hanks’s voice came over Clay’s cell phone as he punched the gas in his POS Windstar and peeled out of Dottie’s parking lot. “Oh, Clay,” she said into his ear. “I heard about Ray. Eugene is already on his way to the sheriff’s office.”

“Someone called him already?” he asked.

“Yes, they did, about ten minutes ago.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, honey; I didn’t take the call.”

Clay hung a right onto the state highway that led to Allenberg and thanked Thelma for the information. Then he hit the disconnect button on his phone and tried hard not to think about the conversation he’d just had with Jane. But his brain was not obeying his command these days. So he immediately began rehashing the entire scene.

It was a wonder the woman hadn’t hauled off and slapped his face, given that he’d tried three or four times to pick a fight with her. For some crazy reason, he counted her restraint as a positive. She was pretty darn mature for a twenty-something. And then he realized that he was counting positives, and that annoyed the heck out of him.

He just needed to rescue Ray, and then he could try to figure out exactly what to do about Jane. He sure as shooting wasn’t going to go looking for a quickie with her without thinking everything through two or three times. That was the mature thing to do, and come hell or high water, he intended to behave maturely from now on.

Fifteen minutes later, he walked into the fluorescent brightness of the Sheriff’s Department’s squad room. His brother leaned on the reception desk filling out paperwork. One look at Stone’s face affirmed Clay’s resolve to be grown-up from here on out.

Stone’s nose would never be the same. It was lying over on its side, and the skin beneath both of his eyes had turned a shade of purple as dark and plump as the figs on the tree in Momma’s backyard. Stony hadn’t changed his shirt, and the blood spatter down the front made something roil in Clay’s stomach.

The guilt and remorse clutched Clay’s middle and canceled out the momentary triumph he had felt during the fight. “Oh, Lord help me, Stony, I’m…” His voice got kind of wobbly, and he had to stop or lose it in front of his big brother. That would be just too humiliating for words.

“’S okay. It’s just my nose.”

Clay chose to read the expression on his brother’s face as a smile, even though it was a whole lot less than that. “Yeah, but—”

“You were due.” Stone shrugged.

“No, I was…” Clay’s voice faded out with his confusion. What was he, exactly? Upset? Outraged? Enraged? Out of control? Just what was he? He didn’t have a clue anymore. So he stood there feeling like a jerk.

Stone put his pen in the pocket of his ruined shirt and took a couple of steps forward. “You were due. You’ve been like a pressure cooker for a long time, since all that trouble in Nashville. And Uncle Pete’s getting sick hasn’t helped none. Not to mention that a-hole Alex showing up throwing his weight around. You were due, big-time.”

Clay bit the inside of his cheek to keep from asking the suddenly urgent question about when Stony might be “due” for a breakdown. Near as anyone could figure, Stone had shed zero tears for his dead wife in almost five years. So when would Stone allow himself a breakdown? Probably never. Stone was made like a rock in more ways than one.

“I’m sorry, man,” Clay said. The words were a pale substitute for the things he wanted to say about all the issues that lay between them—jealousy for sure, and sorrow that was too deep and too wide for brothers to talk about unless they both were drinking beer and sitting in a bass boat somewhere far away from public scrutiny.

“Apology accepted,” Stone said.

“So I guess Eugene is here bailing Ray out?” Clay asked, breaking eye contact as he scanned the deserted squad room looking for Ray and Eugene.

“I don’t think anyone’s getting bailed out tonight, Clay. Ray confessed to stealing the money,” Stone said softly.

“What?” Clay’s gaze panned back to his older brother.

Stone put a steadying grip on Clay’s shoulder. “Look, I know this is hard for you.” Stone’s voice had that mature and rational quality to it that Clay hated. His brother was so perfect sometimes.

Stone squeezed his shoulder. It was more than a friendly gesture. The touch told him that Stony cared about him, forgave him, loved him even. And that made Clay feel worse. He shucked the touch away. “Ray confessed? Why’d he do that?”

“Because he’s guilty.”

“Oh, for crying out loud, Ray didn’t take the money.”

“We found it in his locker at the store,” Stone said.

“So?”

“So that’s incriminating.”

“Right. C’mon, Stone, if Ray took the money, why would he leave it in an unlocked locker? And why would Ray steal from the store? I’m pretty sure Alex set this whole thing up. Alex wants Pete to fire Ray. Alex figures he’ll be in charge once Pete kicks the bucket. He also says Ray is a money-losing proposition. I’ll bet you a hundred dollars Alex stole that money himself, just to get Ray in trouble.”

Stone squeezed his puffy eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them again, he gave Clay a somber look. “You can’t go around saying stuff like that without evidence. I’m sorry, but the evidence points to Ray taking the money. He doesn’t have an alibi, and the patrons at Dot’s put him on Palmetto Avenue about the time the crime took place. He had opportunity. Besides, Ray said he did it, Clay.”

“What? Why would he—”

“My guess is Ray was lashing out at Alex. But maybe not. Maybe he just had some other wild-ass notion. Who knows what goes on in his head?”

“Oh, for chrissake, you can’t blame him just because—”

“Stop it. You’ve always got an excuse for him. And that’s admirable. But you’re not his keeper. Ray isn’t stable. And what happens to him if Pete dies, God forbid? Are you going to stay here and look after him the way Pete’s been doing all these years?”

“You know good and well that Ray would never—”

“It’s got to end, Clay. For your own sake. It’s got to.” Stone took Clay’s shoulder again and gave him a little shake. “And now it has. He needs to be put someplace where he won’t hurt himself or anyone else.”