Her smile faded, but her voice remained gentle. “I hated your words, but I needed to hear them.”
He nodded, looking away from the aching sweetness of her face, reminding himself that he was an emissary on Woodman’s behalf. Looking after her was fulfilling a promise to his cousin. Nothing less, but nothing . . . more.
“So, uh,” he said, “I tried out your Presbyterian church, and I think it’s a real nice service.”
“Wait, um, did you just say you went to church? And enjoyed it?”
“I’m not utterly godless, Gin.”
“That’s up for debate,” she shot back.
“Damn,” he said, chuckling softly as he took another sip of beer.
“And nice compared to what? The Church of Motorcycles, Sluts, Cussin’, and Beer?”
“Fuckin’ sassy,” he whispered, looking at her out of the corner of his eyes and enjoying her immensely.
She was right. He didn’t especially like going to church, but in the two weeks he’d been going to hers, she hadn’t show up, which bothered him. It had been an important part of her life when Woodman was alive, and he was anxious that she start going again. She needed the community—she needed to feel less alone. “They’re doin’ a, uh, a carolin’ thing at your gran’s place.”
“A carolin’ thing?”
He nodded. “Friday night next. I’ll pick you up at six and we can go together.”
And suddenly all that gentleness and sass jumped ship. She sat back in her chair, her face pinched. “I don’t think so. I’m not . . .”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Cain, “is there a very important Lifetime movie that requires your attention?”
She whipped her face to the side, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. “No, I just don’t—”
“Great. You’re free. I’ll pick you up at seven, and if you’re not dressed—”
“I know. I know. You’ll haul my ass out of bed and throw me in your dad’s truck.”
He couldn’t help grinning at her. “You’re a fast learner.”
Her nose twitched. “Fine. I’ll go. But I don’t promise to have a good time.”
“I think we’ve already established that your pleasure is irrelevant.”
“Sweet talker.” She rolled her eyes at him before turning back to the TV. “This how you got all the girls?”
“Nope,” he said, placing his empty bottle on the table between them. “My personality sucks. It was my dimples. And my ass.”
“Ha!” she chortled. “So full of yourself.”
He raised his eyebrows and grinned. “Can’t change a wolf’s howl.”
“Or an ass’s hee-haw,” she returned, taking a big gulp of her own beer before placing it next to his.
Damn, but she was quick. And funny. And gorgeous. But around her eyes, he still saw deep, deep lines of sadness. Church once a week wasn’t going to be enough. She needed somewhere to go, more to do. She needed to get the fuck out of her goddamned cottage.
“What you been doin’ with yourself?” he asked.
“Visitin’ Gran.” She took a deep breath and sighed. “And I’ve gone ridin’ a couple times.”
“When are you goin’ back to work?”
She shrugged, avoiding his eyes, though they were trained on her. “I don’t know.”
“You loved nursin’. I remember you tellin’ me.”
“I did love it,” she said. “But, I don’t think I’m ready to—”
“So you’re just sittin’ around at home all day? Goin’ to be a lady of leisure like your momma?”
“No! I just . . . I’m . . .”
“You’re what?
She blew out an exasperated breath “Know what? It’s none of your business what I’m doin’! What are you doin’? Loafin’ around this tack room drinkin’ beer?”
In fact, he’d been doing a great deal of work at Wolfram’s Motorcycles. He’d finished all the electrical wiring of the lighting in the showroom and service bays, and he’d ordered some of the more expensive equipment he needed to offer top-notch service on European bikes. He’d purchased a desk, two guest chairs, and a nice Persian rug for the office, and found a townhouse to rent in Lexington, halfway between Apple Valley and Versailles. It was in a gated community with lake views and a swimming pool, far nicer than he required. All that had mattered to him was that it might appeal to Ginger. And he had less than zero interest in exploring why she’d been on his mind so much as he’d signed the lease.
He still wasn’t ready to tell her that he was putting down roots in Kentucky, however.
“I’m stayin’ busy,” he said, keeping his eyes on the TV. “By the way, the hinge on your back gate is busted, and some of the pickets are rottin’ on the fence. I’ll be by to fix it tomorrow. If you don’t relish my company, be scarce, huh?”
She stood up. “Cain, I don’t need your help. I’m perfectly capable of—”
“Maybe a good excuse for you to go see your gran,” he said, looking at her meaningfully.
Her eyes narrowed again, and her voice took on a seriously irritated edge. “How much longer you stayin’?”