Unbreakable by Alison Kent Page A

of the question curious rather than patronizing, as if she hadn’t heard all the stories told about the Jaynes through the years. “Just because I had a more comfortable life growing up than you did?”
    “A more comfortable life?” That made him want to laugh. Or hit something with a chair. “Is that what you call it?”
    “Sure. Why not? My parents both had”—she stopped, corrected herself—“both
have
good jobs working for the school district. Boone and I were well provided for. We didn’t have to go without.”
    “Like I did.”
    “It wasn’t a big secret, Casper,” she said, her voice softer, her coffee-dark hair falling forward over her shoulder as she shook her head. “Everyone knew your father wasn’t around for long after y’all moved here. And that your moth—”
    “That my mother was a whore who put food on our table by selling sex at Bokeem’s Truck Stop.”
    And fuck his big, fat mouth.
    He sure as hell hadn’t meant to say that, but without giving him a chance to haul them back, the words had fallen into a silence so complete he could hear his hair growing. But he had to give it to Faith. She held his gaze, no sympathy in hers, no
poor baby
tears or even words designed to soothe away the pain of his past.
    Instead, she stayed true and no-nonsense. “I didn’t know that, about your mother.”
    Really? She’d been that sheltered? That naive? “Everybody knew that about my mother, Faith.”
    “I didn’t.” She shifted beside him, reaching for the sheet and pulling it to her chest. “I knew she worked as a waitress at the truck stop, but that’s all.”
    “Well, now you know the rest.”
    Thing was, he didn’t really care that she knew. He was who he was. He’d gone through a lot to get here. What he didn’t want was sorrow, or pity, or an emotional attachment that required he explain more than he wanted to, or share parts of himself he didn’t let go of for anyone.
    She wasn’t like the women he’d had in the past, women like Angie Whitman who’d been a good time but no more a part of his life than he’d been of hers.
    Faith, on the other hand, had been with him since his family had moved to Crow Hill. She hadn’t been struck starry-eyed by any of his eight-second rides. She’d known him as a hell-raiser, as her brother’s friend. As the extra kid at the supper table.
    “Can I ask you something?”
    “Sure,” he said, turning to look at her.
    She buried her nose in the sheet she held, grimaced. “How long have these sheets been on your bed?”
    He snorted, and then said instead, “I’m a big boy, Faith. I’m not afraid of Boone.”
    “I’m not afraid of him either.”
    “Then what’s the problem here?”
    “I don’t know. His being in the house…things changing between the two of you should he find out I’m here. I don’t want the ranch partnership to go rocky.”
    “It won’t.”
    “You say that like you’re sure.”
    “We’ve been through a lot. And we’re all still here.”
    “I suppose.”
    Her shrug had him wondering if she’d thought things through. “But if change worries you, you gotta know things would be different between you two as well.”
    “I know. We’ve had issues before.”
    Huh. “Anything I need to worry about?”
    She shook her head, ran the tip of one finger down the center of his chest. “Just that I’m not a big fan of taking risks.”
    And risks had been Casper’s whole life. “Sounds like I need to show you there’s nothing to it.”
    He brought his mouth hard to hers, forcing his tongue inside to dance with hers, to slide along hers, stroking hers before coaxing hers into his mouth. The intimacy had his cock thickening along her bare thigh. And then he pulled away, moving his mouth to her jaw, her ear, breathing deeply of her scent that brought to mind the sort of soft summer he’d rarely seen.
    He knew harsh conditions. His life had been nothing but. That made being here with Faith seem like something that