Page 76 of Rocky Mountain Desire
“What the hell is wrong withyou?” 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.
