Carnal Compromise by Robin L. Rotham Page A

her shoulders. She just needed to suck it up and stay the course. It would be totally self-defeating to let whatever chance of mind-blowing fantasy sex she had left slip away out of fear. She’d survived being hurt about as badly as a woman could, and by God, she’d survive when Joe and Brent made it clear they were done with her.
    Yawning, she leaned down and picked up the remnants of her supper—a pear core gone brown and bread crumbs on a paper plate—from the end table. Maybe things would look better in the morning.
    She’d just dropped the handful of trash into the can under the kitchen sink when Brent’s diesel roared up outside. Before she could make tracks for the bunkroom, the door opened and a stiff westerly wind blew Joe in. He didn’t take his eyes off her as he pulled the door shut behind him.
    “AJ,” he said tentatively, “what are you doing in here?”
    “Waiting for you guys,” she answered without thinking, drawing the quilt around her defensively. Way to go, AJ—make them feel bad and show them how pathetic you are at the same time.
    Joe frowned and glanced at the wall clock. “Where’s Brent?”
    “He’s not with you?” When he shook his head, AJ frowned, too. “He called and said he’d be another hour or so finishing up that last field and then he’d ride the ATV here. I thought he’d stopped off for a drink or something.”
    “Shit.” He pulled out his cell phone and hit Brent’s speed dial, then snapped it shut again a few seconds later. “He was alone?”
    AJ’s stomach contracted. “Yes. Do you think something’s wrong? Crap, I should have gone out with him.”
    “Yeah, you should,” he bit out.
    Her throat closed and her nose stung with tears but she managed not to flinch. Joe was absolutely right—she’d spent the whole evening primping and feeling sorry for herself while Brent was out coping with some kind of emergency by himself.
    God, talk about self-absorbed.
    She was just opening her mouth to apologize when he said, “I’m gonna go check on him.”
    Closing her mouth again, she turned and headed for their bedroom. “I’m coming, too,” she tossed over her shoulder.
    “AJ—” When she paused and looked at him, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said that.”
    “No, you were right. I should have at least checked on him.”
    At the high whine of the ATV’s engine outside, Joe’s body relaxed visibly. “Thank God.” He pushed open the door to watch Brent drive up.
    That’s when it dawned on her how much he cared. He might not want admit it, even to himself, but Joe Remke loved Brent Andersen every bit as much as Brent, however unwillingly, loved him. Which cast an entirely new light on the cheerful way he’d tolerated Brent’s refusals before last night. It was almost as though on some level he hadn’t really wanted Brent to give in.
    Which was just…brain-spraining.
    Already on shaky emotional ground and determined to give them some time alone, she yawned and pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders.
    “I’m really tired,” she said, heading for the bunkroom. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
    Shutting the door, she crawled into her bunk, still wrapped in the afghan. Hopefully she’d be asleep before he came in— if he came in. He’d shown more genuine emotion in the last few minutes than she’d ever seen from him. Maybe this scare was the catalyst he needed to finally confront his own fears, whatever they were, and open himself emotionally to Brent.
    No two ways about it, Joe Remke was a man filled with fear. He’d probably beat the shit out of anyone who said so to his face, but he was scared to death of something. She’d thought at first it might be the stigma attached to homosexuality in rural America, but now that she knew them better, that theory just didn’t hold any water. His secrets felt less societal than personal.
    Hell, why did she even care if they got in