Rocky Mountain Desire

Chapter Twenty-One

Hope parked her truck and cursed at the horrible noises it made as the final rumble of the engine died away.

It seemed her temporary wheels were fast becoming just that. She probably shouldn’t have used it to drag race through the mud a week ago, but it wasn’t as if the truck was a classic or anything. She’d have to find something else to drive, and soon, but so far she hadn’t had much luck.

She hopped out and headed around to the passenger side, chuckling to herself. If she was honest, she hadn’t been looking too hard. Between the shop, the raffle and everything else she was doing—like spending tons of time with Matt—she’d neglected to look for new wheels. Only with the ominous noises it had just made? She’d better move the search up the to-do list.

She pulled open the door and reached in for her grocery bags, hooking up all four at one time. That meant she had to use her hip to close the door. She gasped as she turned and looked up into Clay’s smiling face.

“Let me give you a hand.”

She couldn’t justify pulling away, so Hope let him take a couple bags. “What’re you doing here?”

Clay stepped ahead of her easily. “Waiting for you.”

Really? “Why?”

He grinned. “Got a lead on a car for you. I’ve got the details in my back pocket. Let me show you.”

Perfect timing. “Affordable? Reliable?”

“Not a tank?” Clay laughed. “Let’s get these into your place then I’ll show you.”

Hope hurried up the stairs, excited at the prospect of getting to drive something that didn’t take two blocks planning to turn around. She unlocked the door and dropped her groceries on the table, pointing for Clay to do the same. “Mondays as a day off is a wonderful thing, but I put way too much on my plate at times. So? Show me.”

Clay pulled out a paper covered with notes. “Sorry, my handwriting isn’t very good. I’ll help.”

He stepped beside her. All her concentration focused on the information on the page. Low enough mileage, the make looked good.

She pointed to the numbers. “What’s that say?”

Clay bent over and examined his handwriting closer. “Seven thousand, but I think we could talk him down. It’s old man Shedwick—he’s buying a new car for his wife and didn’t get offered enough as a trade. I’m pretty sure I can find out what they offered him. If you suggest a price between what he’s asking and that, he’ll take it.”

Sheer willpower kept both feet on the floor she was so excited. “This is perfect. Thank you, so much. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

Clay stepped in front of her, his body trapping her against the fridge, and suddenly the position they were in felt far too confining. “It’s the least I could do.”

Hope planted a hand on his chest, intending to open up space between them, but he closed the gap faster than she could retreat. His mouth was on hers and she protested loudly. Or as loudly as she could without air. His bulk held her in place, his arms confining.

Hope simultaneously bit down and lifted her knee as hard as she could.

Clay folded in two, backing away as if she was a wild cat. One hand stretched out to form a blockade, the other between his legs cupping his balls. He gasped for air, his sputtering proof her knee had made direct contact. For a second she thought he might drop to the floor, but he caught himself, his free hand clutching one knee hard.

Hope scooted to the far side of the kitchen near the door, ready to run if necessary. Only Clay wasn’t coming after her. He groaned a few more times before grimacing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he squeezed out, the words broken by his gasps.

She’d kicked him hard enough to make a real difference.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she challenged back. “You bring me information on a car and then maul me? Did you expect I’d just fall into bed with you for that?”

“But you left a message. God damn, Hope, stop playing games.”

“I never left any message. Not since the last time we did a quilting lesson for the raffle.”

Clay shook his head. He planted a hand on the counter and shoved himself a bit more vertical, pausing to wipe a hand across his mouth. He examined his fingers as if expecting to find blood. “You called. Said you hoped I was still interested in spending some time with you. It was a damn tempting message too. Dirty, explicit.”

What? “I’m seeing Matt. Why would I say such things?”

“Don’t bitch at me. I’m not an idiot—ah, hell. This is fucked up. I didn’t mean to…” Clay shook his head. “Someone’s played me for a fool.”

Helen.

“Oh, Clay. I can guess who. I’m sorry, but I’m not interested in anything but the car. Things are good with Matt and me. I’m sorry you—”

What could she say?

He laughed bitterly. “Maybe I am kind of stupid. I fell for it. Should have known better.”

Hope grabbed a washcloth and wet it for him. She handed it over with an apology. “Sorry about your mouth. And…”

He lifted a brow, the cloth pressed to his lip. “Sorry about my balls? In spite of being embarrassed, I’m glad to know you aren’t shy about defending yourself.”

She was totally mortified now, for a whole new set of reasons. And totally furious as well. “My sister has moved past the point of being annoying to the point of being dangerous. I could have really hurt you. Or this could have ended badly.”

Clay nodded, slowly easing himself upright. Another groan escaped. “She’s a bitch. Sorry—related to you and all, but it’s the truth.”

Hope paced back into the living room. “I don’t know what to do about her. I thought I made it clear that my life was my own.”

“Obviously not.” Clay staggered forward a step. “I gotta sit down.”

She didn’t offer an arm or anything as he made his way to the couch—figured that would only make his humiliation worse. She did hit the fridge and grab him a drink, as well as soaking the cloth again and returning it.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Don’t sit there looking at me. It’s awkward enough to know someone a foot shorter than me brought me to my knees that easily.”

Hope turned away, hiding her grin. It wasn’t funny. It wasn’t. “I am so—”

“Sorry? Don’t be. I shouldn’t have come on so strong. Just something about Matt rubs me the wrong way and when I thought I had the green light?” Clay’s eyes popped open. “Shit. You think your sister is bent on making trouble between you and Matt?”

“Looks that way.”

Oh no.

His hint registered the same moment Clay pointed to the phone. “If she goes for the obvious, you might want to give Matt a call.”

His phone rang for the tenth time in the past hour. Matt cussed louder, but otherwise ignored the call like he had all the previous times. It wasn’t a familiar family ring, which meant there was no emergency worth freeing his hands from the mud and muck he was elbow deep in. Should have turned the damn thing off completely.

By the time he had scrubbed himself clean, there were more messages waiting. He jumped into his truck and started through them en route to town to pick up supplies. He’d grab a quick burger, maybe stop in at Hope’s for a minute if she was free for lunch.

When Helen’s voice came over the line, he was tempted to delete the rest of the bloody messages all unheard. All her words weren’t understandable—slurred a little at times, and again, he couldn’t figure out if she was drunk or high on something.

She didn’t make a lot of sense in the first couple messages, but by the third, her intent was clear enough.

“You might want to ignore me, but it’s for your own good. There’s something funny going on. I was headed to work and happened to notice there’s a strange truck parked outside Hope’s place. She’s off work today, isn’t she?”

It was enough. Matt clicked erase, then turned the phone off altogether. Helen continued to amaze him. As if he’d believe anything she had to tell him, especially about her sister.

Pulling into the Stitching Post parking lot and seeing Clay’s truck there—the shot of anger that arrived was infuriating, but more at himself for continuing to have such a strong reaction to the ass. He didn’t doubt Hope, but there had better be a damn good reason for Clay to come sniffing around where he knew he wasn’t welcome.

Matt bounded up the steps at full speed, surprised to have the door swing open without using his key. Even more shocked to round the corner to find Clay sprawled on the couch, one hand rising toward Matt as if in surrender.

“Whatever you heard, it’s not what you think.”

The full-fledged pissed-off response that flashed anytime Clay was around was tempered by the guy’s instant submissive stance. He didn’t bluster like usual. Instead, he kinda folded himself up and guarded his torso.

Hope rose from where she’d been sitting, pretty much as far away from Clay as she could possibly get and still be in the same room. “Matt. Clay found me a car.”

She sputtered to a halt.

Clay and Matt exchanged glances. What the hell?

She shook her head and growled. “Ahhh, dammit, now she’s making my brain crazy. Matt, Clay is here because not only did he potentially find me a car to replace Goliath the monster truck, my sister has continued her Wicked Witch of the West imitation. Clay didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her insistence made no sense. “I didn’t say he did.”

Hope opened and shut her mouth a few time. “Right.”

“Helen called and pretended to be Hope.” Clay leaned forward and grimaced, shifting his hips uncomfortably. Matt stared for a second, trying to figure out exactly why that move looked so familiar.

“Helen called you?”

Clay nodded. “I usually have call display, but I just switched servers and haven’t set up the new system. She left a voice mail—said I should come over and she’d make sure I felt a lot more welcome than the last time we’d gotten together.”

The urge to chuck Clay’s carcass out of the apartment was tempered by rising confusion. Even though this situation was fucked up, why hadn’t Hope come and greeted him yet?

“I see. So, now you know she isn’t interested.” Matt turned to Hope. “You get the details about the car? So you can call and look into it?”

Hope nodded, still hesitating on the far side of the room.

Fucking hell.

Matt looked down at Clay. “Thanks for the tip. We’ll deal with Helen. If you don’t mind keeping this quiet for a bit? I’m not sure what we’re going to do, but until we decide, we’d appreciate you not spilling the beans all around town.”

Clay levered himself vertical, hips remaining lopsided as he took a couple staggering steps then caught his balance. “No problem. Like I told Hope, not the sort of thing I’d go boasting about. I’d prefer to win attention raising money for the charity. Speaking of which, you Colemans working on your entry for the raffle or did you give up?”

The damn quilt. Matt had hoped everyone would forget his impulsive signup for the auction. Travis and Blake had both given him so much grief when he’d mentioned it, he’d avoided the topic ever since. “No worries. You guys—?”

“Nearly done.” Clay limped across the room and pulled his jacket on. “Hell, we might be the first ones finished, right, Hope?”

She nodded wordlessly.

“Hey, Hope? I really am sorry.” Clay turned on his heel and left, tugging the door shut behind him.

Hope remained on the far side of the room. Matt checked her over carefully. She looked damned uncomfortable, and he still couldn’t figure out why. “You okay?”

Words burst from her. “I canned him.”

“What?”

“Clay. That’s why he’s limping.” She dragged both hands through her hair, turning the long strands into a riotous mess. “My God, Matt, Helen seems to be doing everything she can to tear my life apart. There’s this mess with Clay, plus she’s bothering the bank and my landlord. She’s been sending me emails through the shop’s website contact button. I’m pretty sure it’s her—stuff about suing me for poor quality products and stupid things that are just not possible.”

Matt hadn’t heard much after her first words. “You did what to Clay?”

She paused. “Kneed him in the nuts.”

It was a good thing Clay was already gone. “And what was the bastard doing that got you close enough to his nuts to have to knee them?”

All the colour in her face drained away. “I’m sorry.”

Matt tore across the room and caught her before she could escape down the hallway. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Why are you so damn spooked? The only person I’m fucking upset with is Clay because he should have known better than to give you a reason to bust his nuts. Even if Helen was yanking him around.”

Hope burst into tears, burying her face against his neck.

Matt closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, fighting for control, for balance to deal with this hellhole of a situation. It was nothing—a simple misunderstanding—and yet it was everything. It was a pain in the ass that shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

“Hope. First, answer me. Are you okay physically?”

The response came out sniffly and muffled against his chest. “I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me. I was scared, but instinct kicked in.”

Another jolt of anger hit. Maybe he’d pay a visit to Thompson and Sons and make sure that Clay’s balls were out of commission for a good long time.

She gasped for a second then pulled away, wiping her eyes. “Sorry for being so silly.”

He wasn’t done with her. “Your instincts to get out of a man’s reach shouldn’t have been triggered. Tell me what happened.”

She went into her explanation, her hands moving rapidly, her chin lifting and her face becoming more expressive the longer she spoke. He led her to the couch and sat beside her, one hand on her leg as she faded off at the end.

“So what do we do? What do I do? My God, it’s as if Helen’s turned into some crazy woman, and not a good crazy cat lady like I joked about becoming. She swings hot then cold—it’s as if she’s not all there.”

Matt leaned back and tucked Hope under his arm. She snuggled in closer, slowly sneaking her hand behind his body. Tentative, careful, as if she wasn’t sure how he would react.

It drove him crazy himself to see her so timid. As if she expected him to reach out and hit her. Or that she thought he might up and walk away.

He was totally going to deal with that issue, but first, Helen.

“She’s not the woman I remember being with for so long.” Matt stared into space, trying to recall her being this vindictive. Other than when she’d actually cheated on him and left, Helen had been careless at times, and selfish, but never truly cruel. “We can talk to the police, but Helen hasn’t done anything illegal. Being a pest isn’t a criminal offense.”

Hope stiffened as he spoke. “But she’s a nuisance. Isn’t there a law about not bothering people? Can I get a restraining order or something?”

Matt shrugged. “Not sure. I’ll take you down to the station and we can talk to my cousin Anna. Or you could phone her and ask for advice. Do you know where Helen’s staying?”

Hope nodded. “I’d call her, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t have much to say right now other than fuck off and leave me alone. Which would probably lead to me being shouted at, and things would go downhill from there.”

He agreed. “Don’t call right now. Give it time and consider the options.”

She struggled out of his arms and surged to her feet. “Damn it. Why did she come back? Why could she not just stay in Calgary and get on with her life?”

It was a good question. “The main thing is to make sure she’s not going to be able to get into your life anymore. We’ll work together to find a way to do that. Are you with me?”

Hope turned from pacing the living room, her arms slipping in front of her as she hugged herself tight. She bit her bottom lip and refused to meet his eyes…and didn’t answer his question. “I’m sorry about Clay—not about him being here, because you’re right that’s not my fault. But I feel like…”

Maybe she was going to bring it up. That weird sensation he’d gotten from her ever since he’d walked into the apartment—there had to be a reason. “Feel like what?”

“Like I’ve done something wrong. Like you’re going to be upset because he was here.”

Matt sighed. “This is because of that damn cock-fight Clay and I were having before you and I started dating, right?”

A tiny smile snuck past her frown. A fleeting sign of the woman he’d been spending his days with. The woman he’d been dreaming about at night.

“Maybe?”

Dammit. Mat rose to his feet and took her hands in his. He tried again. “I’m not upset with you. And I’m sure we can deal with your sister. Do you want my help?”

This time Hope nodded tentatively. “Can we put away my groceries before we do anything else? My ice cream is melting.”

Everything about her remained hesitant. As if the vital, lively woman he was so attracted to was being smothered under a layer of something that Matt suspected was fear. But he’d been around his share of timid animals in the past. The ones who’d been hurt and learned to be suspicious of others. There was a lot some caring and loving could do.

Family held together. Friends worked through the tough times. Misunderstandings happened, but when people were honest with each other, they could work it out.

And that’s what Hope was going to find out big-time, if he had any say in the matter.