Erin's Way. Laura Browning
you plan to spend the next little while in jail, hand me your purse, Erin. And tell me what you’re on.”
She tossed the purse at him. “Just a little weed.”
“If it were anyone else, I’d say you need to be at the hospital, but you’re a Richardson. Y’all have hard heads.”
“I might have a concussion.”
Sam arched a brow as he dumped the contents of her purse on the table and began going through them. He found the pot, the papers, her lighter, her stash of ecstasy, and the Quaaludes. How the devil had she gotten through customs with this stuff? It was a freaking pharmacy in here. Finally he held up an oblong package with pills. “What are these?”
“Birth control pills,” Erin snapped defiantly.
Sam’s hand tightened. What was he getting uptight about? She was nothing to him. He was nothing to her. She wasn’t a kid. She was almost twenty-seven. Had he expected she would continue to hero worship him? Save herself for him? She’d had a teenage crush on him, but she’d obviously moved on. Maybe it was time for him to do the same. How much of a fool was he? “I don’t see a prescription.”
“It was on the box, not the compact.”
He put the birth control pills in a different pile. When he was through, he picked up all the drugs, opened the door on the woodstove, and tossed them in.
Erin leaped off the couch. “What the hell are you doing? Do you have any idea how much all that shit cost?”
Sam glared at her over his shoulder. “I don’t give a flying feline, and what I’m doing is saving your cute little butt from jail time, idiot. Darn it! I’m the County Sheriff. You can’t have this stuff, especially not in my home.”
She lurched toward the woodstove, staggered, and started to slip sideways. He caught her as she fell.
“Sammy?” her voice was thready and frightened. Big, blue-gray eyes stared at him, and again her defenses went down for an instant. That was all it took to turn him into a marshmallow.
“It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.” His throat tightened. Maybe he did need to keep an eye out for a concussion. She was always so fiercely self-sufficient, wanting no one, needing no one, that it hurt his heart to see her weakened. He knew the lessons she’d learned years ago. He’d been an unfortunate part of more than one of them. He knew deep down she wouldn’t want to lean on anyone. She would see it as a mistake because her experience had shown her that, in the end, everyone else would let her down—even family. Especially family.
“Lie down, Erin.” Sam looked at her paper white face with real concern. Then he began to notice other things. The five earrings in her left ear and—Jesus H. Christ—was that an eyebrow piercing? “For heaven’s sake,” he ground out roughly. “Why the devil have you stuck all those holes in yourself?”
“It’s a personal statement,” she flashed, color starting to return to her fair skin.
“Of what?” he asked. “That you’d prefer life as Swiss cheese?”
“No… That uptight parents and nosy neighbors need to back the hell off. It’s my life, my body.” Her eyes narrowed spitefully. “I’ve got one in my navel too. Wanna see?”
Sam frowned with the memory, one that still aroused him. “I saw that one last fall.” He saw the look on her face. She wanted to shock him, make him squirm, make him lose his temper. It had always been like this.
“Then how about my tattoos?”
He quirked a brow. He didn’t remember seeing any tattoos when she’d shown up unexpectedly at Tabby’s art showing, and she’d only had the barest essentials covered. Even though he knew better, he still baited her. “What would you do if I said yes?”
Erin smiled wickedly and teased the snap on her jeans. “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.”
“For heaven’s sake!” Sam spun away from her. He had to. The sight of her finger sliding along the waistband of jeans was making him hard, making him want things he shouldn’t.
“Have some respect for yourself,” he said.
Silence reigned behind him. Suddenly, Sam knew he’d gone too far, hit her where she was the most vulnerable. That had always been her problem. As tough as she might seem, Erin had no self-esteem, and he had never understood why. He turned to apologize. She had her back to him and had gone still and silent, but he could see from her stiff posture that he’d managed to hurt her.
“Erin…”
“Go to hell.” It was barely an audible whisper, not her usual high volume bluster.
Sam raked his hand across his short hair in frustrated patience as he tried to explain. “The only room with a bed that’s made is mine….”
“Thanks, but no thanks, Sheriff. As you’ve already made clear again and again, you don’t want me there.”
But he did want to be fairly certain she would still be in his house come morning. “You can have my room, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Afraid I’ll take off?” she asked, some of her bluster returning, but only for an instant. “No, I’ll sleep on the couch. You’re too big to be comfortable here,” she mumbled. “I’m used to sleeping on a berth on board ship. This is fine for me. Leave me alone. I’ll be all right, and I will be here in the morning. Like I said earlier. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
It was the most she had said since he’d found her in the pasture, and it was without an attitude. She still had her back to him, still refused to look at him.
“Do you need anything?” he finally asked quietly.
“No.”
“Well, good night then. I’m down the hall if you need me.”
She snorted. “I won’t.”
* * * *
Stoner parked Sam’s truck behind the house and stepped into the kitchen. Catherine had already gone upstairs. She sat propped in their king-size bed. Seeing her made him smile. That was something else that had changed in the last six months. She had moved back into his bed. It had been a long time, not since they’d taken Erin and gone to Washington. Dear God, that was more than a third of their married life. Their daughter’s teenage years had been rocky not only for her, but for them too. In fact, their marriage hadn’t been on a solid footing since Erin’s birth.
When Catherine glanced up from what she was reading, he smiled, praying like hell Erin’s sudden reappearance wouldn’t erode what they had rebuilt. Guilt stabbed him for feeling that way. He wanted what was best for Erin, but in the past that had always translated into sacrificing the rest of the family.
“Did you find the problem?” His wife’s gaze held only mild curiosity. Most of the time loose cattle were the result of a gate left open or a broken wire, common enough occurrences in a rural area.
“Yes.” Stoner kept his tone casual. “There was an accident. A driver ran off the road and took out part of Sam’s fence. It was his cattle that were loose.”
“I hope no one was hurt.”
He smiled. “Just a minor injury. She’s okay. Carter and I helped Sam get the cattle back in and put a temporary fix on the fence.”
“Well, that’s good.” She was too intent on what she was reading to pay much attention, and he was relieved. After stripping, Stoner showered, wrapped himself in a thick robe, and returned to the bedroom.
As casually as he could he asked, “Did you ever hear anything back from Erin after you e-mailed her with the pictures of Tabby’s wedding?”
“No…not a word.”
“Was she still in the—where was it?