“Princess,” he said, his voice reverent and low, but softly pleading. “You’re goin’ to break me if you don’t stop.”
Then he stood up and crossed to the horses. He grabbed the reins and held out Heath’s lead to her without meeting her eyes. Before she could mount up and turn Heath away from the stream, Cain and Thunder were already gone.
***
Ginger was afraid that their heart-to-heart by the river would create another awkward fallout with Cain and he would start avoiding her again, but the next morning she awoke to the sounds of whistling and water outside her upstairs window. When she slipped out of bed and looked down, she found Cain below in the driveway washing Gran’s old Ford pickup.
“Hey!” she called.
He looked up at her from under the brim of his black cowboy hat, his lips widening into a breathtaking smile as he switched the water off. “Hey, yourself, sleepyhead!”
She grinned down at him, resting her elbow on the sill and her cheek on her palm. “What’re you doin’?”
“Washin’ your gran’s truck. If you’re goin’ to use this old lady as a lawn ornament, it should always be shiny.”
“Is that right?”
“That’s right, princess,” he said, putting his hands on his hips and taking a deep breath, which swelled his chest under his damp white T-shirt.
“You hungry after all that hard work?” she asked.
“What’cha offerin’? I already seen your freezer full of frozen pizzas.”
“I’ll have you know that I make a very decent sunny-side-up egg.”
He chuckled, flashing a grin to the high autumn sun and adjusting the brim of his hat. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Then finish up and come on in.”
Before he could answer, she lowered the window and stepped back into her bedroom, clasping her hands and giggling softly at this new wonder of wonders. They’d actually managed to have a deep conversation yesterday and he hadn’t run away today.
“Cain,” she whispered, her breath hitching as her heart swelled with an old love that suddenly felt new, that felt exciting—and finally finally finally—possible.
She pulled her nightgown over her head and tossed it onto the hardwood floor, pulling open her bureau drawer and selecting a white lacy bra and matching panties. She’d bought them on a whim before her senior prom, but hadn’t ended up wearing them because her date—Silas Varner—had arrived drunk as a skunk to pick her up two hours early. Daddy had escorted him off the grounds of McHuid’s holding a shotgun, and that had been the unceremonious end of Ginger’s prom. Not that she’d really minded, she thought, pulling on her skinny jeans and rummaging through her closet for a soft pink V-neck T-shirt. Silas was nobody special to her.
Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she grinned at herself in the mirror before hurrying downstairs barefoot, glad to still hear the sound of the hose splashing across Gran’s windshield.
She took a frying pan from the cabinet beside the stove and set it atop the burner, then pulled a carton of eggs from her refrigerator. As she set them on the counter, she cocked her head to the side, looking out the window over the sink to steal a glimpse of Cain. Between their quick “Good morning” and now, he’d taken off his T-shirt, probably to keep it dry as he rinsed off the truck he’d lovingly scrubbed.
His collarbone winged out from the base of his throat, strong and solid. As she followed the void between the bones down the black-haired valley from his neck to the V of muscle that disappeared into his jeans, she felt her face flush with heat. Slipping her gaze higher, she tracked the ripples of his abdomen, which led to his firm pecs, and— God damn it!
That was precisely the moment Cain looked up and caught her staring. She felt her eyes go wide as dinner plates and took a step to the side, away from the window, her heart pounding uncomfortably as she heard his bellow of laughter.
“Someone’s a peeping princess!” he yelled, spraying her kitchen window with the hose, and she reached up to place her palms against her cheeks, a soft giggle escaping as she shook her head in embarrassment.
After a moment, she remembered what she was supposed to be doing and whirled around to grab the comp’ny butter from the cupboard, slicing off a soft glop and shaking it into the hot frying pan. Four eggs followed, and when she put the carton back in the fridge, she pulled out the bread, putting two slices in the toaster and pressing the lever.
About two minutes later, the eggs were ready, and she was buttering Cain’s toast as he stepped inside, his T-shirt back on.
“Didn’t want to distract you from your breakfast,” he teased, taking off his hat and placing it on a peg beside the door.
Her cheeks, which had just gone back to normal, flushed again, but she didn’t care. Cain was here in her kitchen having breakfast, which made her so happy, it should have scared her. But all she saw was Cain, finally home again, in her home, back in her life, where her heart was sure he belonged.
“Still a cocky so-and-so,” she observed, pouring them each a mug of coffee.