Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

“Goddammit, Cade,” Tara snapped out then, her voice raising. “Don’t try to pull her into this mess.”

“It’s her decision, Tara,” he growled furiously. “Stop playing nursemaid to her, it won’t help anything.”

“And fucking the August men in some glorified orgy will?” Her voice was raising, anger surging through it.

“Dammit, Tara, shut the hell up,” Heather snapped out, moving between the two combatants. “It’s not up to any of you, it’s up to Sam and me, and he doesn’t want me here. So the question is not debatable.”

Cade’s head snapped around, his eyes penetrating, filled with cynical derision. “Are you insane, Heather? There’s nothing Sam wants more in this world than he wants you. Don’t play the fool at this late date.”

Heather took a deep, steadying breath. “He’s damned good at denial then. But still, that’s beside the point.” She looked at Marly, seeing the glimmer of humor in the other woman’s eyes, the way she watched Cade and Tara as though they were children, arguing over a prized toy. The woman never ceased to amaze her.

“Heather’s right,” Marly said firmly, placing her hand on Cade’s muscular arm. “Sam has to work this out for himself, and so does Heather. All the arguing in the world won’t change that, Cade.”

He swiped his fingers through his thick black hair. “Dammit, Marly, he’s going to get himself killed.”

The dark fear that pulsed in Cade’s voice seemed to fill the entire entryway. The bond the men shared went far deeper than that of any sibling relationship that Heather had ever known.

“I’ll talk to him, Cade,” Heather promised. As Tara went to protest, she held up her hand

with a sharp shake of her head. “This isn’t any of your business, Tara. It’s mine and Sam’s.”

“Goddammit.” Tara turned and stomped through the house then, the sound of her boots a rapping tap on the hardwood floor that had Heather wincing. Tara only did that when she was really pissed.

“Heather, Sam’s getting too reckless,” Cade bit out, his voice lowered in concern. “No matter what he says, try to stay closer to him. Stop letting him run you off.”

“Cade, I can’t make Sam do anything,” she said firmly as she pushed the fingers of both hands through her hair. “He doesn’t want me around.”

“But he does, Heather.” Marly turned to her then, her blue eyes soft, understanding. “That’s the problem. Sam wants you too badly.”

Heather snorted. “And you know this how?”

“Because it’s your name he cries out while he’s coming in her,” Cade growled as Marly rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Dammit, Marly, there’s no sense in beating around the damned bush here. If she doesn’t know by now, then she never will.”

“There’s no sense in being crude either,” Marly snapped back, frowning up at him with an edge of steel that surprised Heather.

Cade grimaced as he pushed his hands in his jeans pockets and looked away for several seconds. When his gaze returned, it was softer, apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Marly’s right, there’s no excuse for that.”

“Cade, just because I’m aware of your lifestyle, doesn’t mean I agree with it.” Heather crossed her arms over her breasts, watching him curiously.

She had been more than aware of the speculation in both Cade and Brock’s expressions the few times she had caught them looking her way. It wasn’t lust, not in the normal sense. It was hard to put her finger on it. An emotion swirled in their eyes, affection definitely, but still, an undefined something.

Sexual lust she could have understood. She saw it often when each man looked at his respective lover. But that unnamed emotion was there when they touched, or looked at each other’s lovers as well. The emotion Cade felt for Sarah, what Brock felt for Marly, and now, that same look was being shared with Heather. It was confusing, and often kept her awake long into the night as she tried to define it.

“Your approval isn’t what we’re asking for, Heather.” Marly’s voice chilled, her head raising proudly. “We’re asking you to stay closer to Sam. To attempt to temper his recklessness. Don’t pretend you don’t want him, just as he can’t pretend he doesn’t want you. Give him something besides the demons to concentrate on, if you truly love him as much as I suspect you do.”

Heather took a deep breath, her lips pressing together in irritation as she confronted Marly. She had rarely seen the other woman anything less than easygoing and smiling. This edge of finely tempered maturity she glimpsed in her was a surprise.

“And if you’re wrong, Marly?” she asked her softly, staring directly into the dark blue eyes that regarded her coolly. “What if it’s no more than lust? What then?”

Marly smiled, her expression softening, her eyes warming with compassion.

“We know Sam, Heather. He won’t be easy, because he cares. I can almost guarantee I’m not wrong.”

“Almost.” Heather shook her head roughly. “I can’t believe I’m about to trust my heart to an almost.”

Chapter Nine

Heather knocked on Sam’s door softly before turning the knob and opening it slowly. “Sam?” She entered the bedroom, stepping slowly inside as she saw him standing at the window, staring into the distance, his body tense as she stood silently and watched him.