Claiming the Enemy: Dustin (Porter Brothers Trilogy 3)

Seeing the smudge of his handprint on her chin, he used his shirt to gently wipe it away before looking around. Seeing what he was looking for, he raised his hand, waving at the Hayeses who anyone who wasn’t as blind as a bat could see trying to hide behind the tree that was too small to disguise him.

“Bud,” Dustin yelled out. “Make sure she hurries home. It’s getting ready to rain.”

Dustin chuckled at the foul-mouth expletive her cousin yelled back at him.

Giving Jessie a wink, he sauntered around the house, in a much better mood than when he had left her earlier.

He was jumping up on the side of the porch when he heard the crack of a gunshot behind him. Diving onto the porch, he turned to see Jessie holding Bud’s rifle.

Greer came running out. Seeing it was Jessie, he lowered his rifle with a smirk, realizing the same thing Dustin had—the foul-tempered woman had shot at him.

Sauntering toward the porch, she stared arrogantly down at him as she asked Greer, “Where are Rosie and Logan?”

“Holly has them out back.”

“Good,” she said, her voice so sickly sweet before turning her attention back to him with a mean look that had his balls curling inward in fear.

“If you’re expectin’ sex three times a day before I have a wedding ring on my finger, you’re out of your frickin’ mind.”

That Bud was enjoying her comeuppance just added insult to injury.

“You stupid enough to be outside my bedroom window tonight …”

Dustin swallowed hard when Jessie lowered the rifle to his chest.

“… I’ll blow a hole through you so big that God Himself couldn’t fix it. And I won’t be giving you a damn warning shot.”

Satisfied that he had gotten her message, she gave the gun back to Bud. “Night, Greer.”

“Night, Jessie, Bud,” Greer said, nodding to them politely.

Dustin got up from the porch, dusting his jeans off, as Jessie walked off huffily.

“Damn, she’s all fired up at you, ain’t she?”

Dustin gave him a withering look. “She’ll get over it.”

“Not without a wedding ring, she ain’t.”

“She’ll get over it,” Dustin repeated. “I ain’t getting married.”

“Why not? Marriage ain’t all that bad.”

“It’s not for me.”

“Why not?”

Dustin said the first thing that came to his mind, an explanation that Greer would understand. “She can’t cook.”

“Ah …” Greer gave him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. Then he craned his neck to the side, looking through the doorway and into the house before turning back to whisper conspiratorially to him. “Bro, sometimes a man just can’t have it all.”

20

Jessie walked back and forth from her window to her bed, telling herself over and over again that Dustin better not be there. Then she saw that he wasn’t, and went to sit on the edge of her bed, disheartened.

Running her hands through her sleep-tumbled hair, she hung her head down tiredly, her blurry eyes tracing the plaid gray and black pattern on her pajama bottoms.

She desperately wanted to go back to sleep but knew the nightmare would be waiting. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for three nights … ever since she warned Dustin to stay away.

Hearing a knock on her bedroom door, she lifted her head. “Come in.”

Holt leaned around the partially cracked open door. “Just checking on you. I heard you moving around.”

“I’m fine. Just restless, I guess.”

“You need me to get you something?”

“No, I’m going to try to go back to sleep.” Slipping back under the blanket, she plumped her pillow.

“If you’re sure, I guess I’ll head to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jessie turned her light off when she heard the click of her bedroom door closing.

Her turbulent thoughts finally settled enough that she managed to fall into a light doze, only to jolt awake in fright at a creak that she would have sworn came from under her bed.

Almost knocking her lamp over when she turned it on, she jumped out of bed to run to her chair, hopping onto it and staring fixatedly at her bed, expecting a mouse to charge out from under it.

Biting back a sob, she smothered it with her fist, biting down on her skin to keep from making a sound that would wake Holt.

Rationally, she knew she was being ridiculous, but she couldn’t drown out the voice in the back of mind that screamed, What if there’s a rat colony living under my bed?

Quietly, she haltingly got off her chair, running to get her phone off the nightstand, then ran back to the safety of the chair. She quickly scrolled through her numbers, then poised her finger over Dustin’s. Giving a mute sob, she dropped her phone to her lap, unable to bring herself to press the number.

She should have turned on the television instead of grabbing the phone, Jessie railed at herself.

Building her courage, she lowered one foot to the floor when she swore she heard rustling across the ceiling above her.