Erin's Way. Laura Browning

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СКАЧАТЬ saw the shadows there, but whatever Stoner’s true feelings were, he kept locked inside. Maybe that was part of the problem. Erin and Stoner had a lot in common. Everything that mattered, everything important, they locked deep inside, unable or unwilling to allow themselves to appear vulnerable.

      Stoner looked at Erin’s pale face. “You want me to stay? Help get her cleaned up?”

      Sam shook his head wearily. “I’ll do it. Take my truck and go back to Catherine. Call me in the morning.”

      Stoner put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I owe you.”

      “Yeah. So you’ve said.”

      After the door shut behind Erin’s father, Sam looked at his uninvited guest and sighed. He felt like he’d been picking up after this particular Richardson for years. He left her sprawled on the couch while he stalked off in search of his first aid kit. She was awake when he returned but, for once, not ready to start a fight. She leaned against him limply while he cleaned the scrape on her head. It wasn’t big, but she did have a bump to go with it. She watched him from somber, blue-gray eyes. After a couple of minutes of her almost unblinking stare, he arched one brow at her.

      “If you have a question, Erin, I wish you’d just ask it.”

      “Where am I?” she asked.

      “My house. It was closer. Your dad thought it would be better for you to spend the night here.”

      A flush of anger quickly replaced the flash of hurt he’d seen in her face, but then she blinked, masking her expression. Long lashes dropped as she shifted her gaze away. Her eyes had always been the chink in her protective armor because they mirrored what she truly felt. Sam wanted to grab her, make her look at him, and for once tell him what she really felt.

      “I see.” Her mouth twisted with a cynicism he hated to witness. “Am I supposed to pay you for the fence while I spend the night? Is that the deal?”

      Anger burned like acid inside him, but he wasn’t sure exactly who he was angry with—her, himself, or her father. What he did know was he hated the hurt that lingered in those big eyes of hers, and he knew one surefire way of getting rid of it.

      “I don’t work that way. You might end up paying me for my fence, but it won’t be on your back. The fence cost a lot more money than one night between your thighs is worth, baby.”

      The haunted look disappeared and fury replaced it. She twisted away from him. “You prick! You over-sized gorilla. Take your freaking hands off me.”

      He’d take her anger over her hurt. He was big enough to handle the fury, but he had no idea what to do with the wounded woman lurking behind it. Sam stood, set the first aid kit aside, and stared her down. “Let me have your purse.”

      She clutched it to her. “Why?”

      “Unless you plan to spend the next little while in jail, hand me your purse, Erin. And tell me what you’re on.”

      She tossed the purse at him. “Just a little weed.”

      “If it were anyone else, I’d say you need to be at the hospital, but you’re a Richardson. Y’all have hard heads.”

      “I might have a concussion.”

      Sam arched a brow as he dumped the contents of her purse on the table and began going through them. He found the pot, the papers, her lighter, her stash of ecstasy, and the Quaaludes. How the devil had she gotten through customs with this stuff? It was a freaking pharmacy in here. Finally he held up an oblong package with pills. “What are these?”

      “Birth control pills,” Erin snapped defiantly.

      Sam’s hand tightened. What was he getting uptight about? She was nothing to him. He was nothing to her. She wasn’t a kid. She was almost twenty-seven. Had he expected she would continue to hero worship him? Save herself for him? She’d had a teenage crush on him, but she’d obviously moved on. Maybe it was time for him to do the same. How much of a fool was he? “I don’t see a prescription.”

      “It was on the box, not the compact.”

      He put the birth control pills in a different pile. When he was through, he picked up all the drugs, opened the door on the woodstove, and tossed them in.

      Erin leaped off the couch. “What the hell are you doing? Do you have any idea how much all that shit cost?”

      Sam glared at her over his shoulder. “I don’t give a flying feline, and what I’m doing is saving your cute little butt from jail time, idiot. Darn it! I’m the County Sheriff. You can’t have this stuff, especially not in my home.”

      She lurched toward the woodstove, staggered, and started to slip sideways. He caught her as she fell.

      “Sammy?” her voice was thready and frightened. Big, blue-gray eyes stared at him, and again her defenses went down for an instant. That was all it took to turn him into a marshmallow.

      “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” His throat tightened. Maybe he did need to keep an eye out for a concussion. She was always so fiercely self-sufficient, wanting no one, needing no one, that it hurt his heart to see her weakened. He knew the lessons she’d learned years ago. He’d been an unfortunate part of more than one of them. He knew deep down she wouldn’t want to lean on anyone. She would see it as a mistake because her experience had shown her that, in the end, everyone else would let her down—even family. Especially family.

      “Lie down, Erin.” Sam looked at her paper white face with real concern. Then he began to notice other things. The five earrings in her left ear and—Jesus H. Christ—was that an eyebrow piercing? “For heaven’s sake,” he ground out roughly. “Why the devil have you stuck all those holes in yourself?”

      “It’s a personal statement,” she flashed, color starting to return to her fair skin.

      “Of what?” he asked. “That you’d prefer life as Swiss cheese?”

      “No… That uptight parents and nosy neighbors need to back the hell off. It’s my life, my body.” Her eyes narrowed spitefully. “I’ve got one in my navel too. Wanna see?”

      Sam frowned with the memory, one that still aroused him. “I saw that one last fall.” He saw the look on her face. She wanted to shock him, make him squirm, make him lose his temper. It had always been like this.

      “Then how about my tattoos?”

      He quirked a brow. He didn’t remember seeing any tattoos when she’d shown up unexpectedly at Tabby’s art showing, and she’d only had the barest essentials covered. Even though he knew better, he still baited her. “What would you do if I said yes?”

      Erin smiled wickedly and teased the snap on her jeans. “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”

      “For heaven’s sake!” Sam spun away from her. He had to. The sight of her finger sliding along the waistband of jeans was making him hard, making him want things he shouldn’t.

      “Have some respect for yourself,” he said.

      Silence reigned behind him. Suddenly, Sam knew he’d gone too far, hit her where she was СКАЧАТЬ