“I thought I’d been clear. I’m well aware that I could talk quite a few women into my bed, but I choose to talk you into it,” he said in that tone that oozed ease, but underneath…underneath something dangerous and cutting was hiding.
She should apologize or make light or something other than dig herself deeper, so of course she went ahead and dug herself deeper. “You didn’t talk me into it. I showed up at your doorstep.”
“Yeah, you really forced my hand.” She could barely make out the shadow of him advancing on her, and again there was her mind telling her to retreat and stubbornness telling her to stand her ground.
It wasn’t a shock which one won, and it wasn’t a shock that her body wasn’t braced for a blow—no, her traitorous body was leaning in for another kiss. Another moment of heat and power and forgetting all the ways she was failing.
But he didn’t kiss her. He gave her ponytail a tug, much like he had last night when she’d been tongue-tied. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not. On the surface, it seemed like some strange power play, but her lady bits…well, they seemed to like the little tug just fine.
“I can’t promise you much, Ms. Shaw,” he fake drawled, “but I will promise you this.” His tone grew serious, his palm cradling her cheek. She had to repeatedly remind herself not to snuggle in like a cat desperate for a pet.
He was so quiet for so long, his hand resting against her face, her heart absorbing that painful, bittersweet ache she refused to give name to. She couldn’t wait any longer for him to finish. “You promise me what?” It shouldn’t matter. She didn’t believe in promises. At least not from the likes of him. Okay, anyone.
“I promise that I won’t make your life any harder than it already is. I’m not going to add to your load, Mel. I will do everything in my power to make sure of it.”
Her heart was beating harder, her chest tighter, making it difficult to take a full breath. You don’t believe in promises. You don’t believe in promises.
But no matter how much she repeated that to herself, his promise wrapped around her heart and squeezed, painful and sweet at the same time. She had to clear her throat before she could speak, had to blink a few times to make sure the burning in her eyes was just the air…or something.
“Thank you,” she said—a whisper, but in the quiet of the mountain valley evening, the whisper held weight.
His thumb brushed across her cheekbone, then his lips brushed against hers, so light and quick she didn’t even have a chance to reciprocate.
Which was good. She was way too shaky for reciprocation to be a good idea. “Good night, Dan. I’ll…be by…early.”
She couldn’t see his mouth in the dark, but she could only figure he had on one of those cocky-ass grins she wanted to equally smack and kiss off his face.
“Night, Cowgirl.”
“Good night.” This time she forced herself to her truck, no backing away, no dawdling. She needed to get home, not just to check on things, but to distance herself from all this…feeling. Danger.
Who knew danger could feel so good? Make her feel alive and giddy. It was better than anything.
Is that how Caleb feels when he’s drunk?
Well, good-bye giddy, hello responsibility. Would Caleb be sober today? Apologetic? Pretend nothing had happened?
She drove home along dark streets, the only interruption her headlights cutting through the thick black of night. The dread at going home wasn’t new. It was hard not to dread all the things she had to deal with, especially in those early days of Dad’s paralysis.
What was new was the wishing she was somewhere else. Wishing she’d stayed with Dan. That was new and not particularly comforting. Was that what Mom had felt before she’d left? Wishing for anything but home?
Mel pulled into the garage shed and took a deep breath. She had worked her ass off for years. She was not her mother, no matter how many times she entertained thoughts that might be similar.
Mel climbed out of her truck. She would not be shaken by any choices she made, because she had made them with her eyes wide open. If Dan made her feel, well, she wasn’t stupid enough to think that might last.
The house was dark, and Mel didn’t know what that could mean. If she should be happy or scared. What would be waiting for her?
You do not have to be responsible for it all. Caleb is supposed to be stepping up.
But Caleb had been drinking last night, drowning whatever pain he wouldn’t share, and she didn’t know how to face that without crumbling.
She stepped into the mudroom, the empty boot mat all but mocking her. She should know better than to even look at this point. She pulled off her own boots, carefully placed them upright with room for the other pair of boots that should be there.
She stepped into the kitchen and stood there in the darkness, trying to decide what to do. She should check on Caleb, on Dad, but she couldn’t force herself to do either of those things.
What she didn’t have a choice in was making sure Dad had a part-time nurse. No one had been happy when she’d attempted to take on that role back in the beginning.