Vivian Arend - Rocky Mountain Desire

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.