by Siera London
“Daddy, can she?”
Studying Ivy’s profile in the soft warmth of the bathroom light, Owen frowned.
“Hold on, Cai.” He turned back to her. “Ivy, tell me.”
She gave him a shaky smile. “You go, I don’t want to intrude.”
When she tried to separate their hands, he yanked her into his arms. Was the possibility of a package deal too much for her? This afternoon, when she’d thought of his son, not him, he’d seen something different in her. Other women had expressed their interests in him, but he could tell when they weren’t too keen on raising another woman’s son.
“He wants to see you.”
Her face softened, yet he could tell something was holding her back.
“Ivy,” Cai called. “Do you like The Land of Do As You Please?”
Ivy looked to Owen for guidance.
“His favorite book.”
She bit her lip, and then she succeeded in extricating her hand from his. He wouldn’t force her. Any woman that wanted to be in his life had to accept Cai.
Ivy walked, albeit on shaky legs, to Cai’s open door. “I…ah, never read that one, baby.”
“Oh, wow. Daddy we can teach Ivy. She can’t do as she please.”
They both laughed. Either Autumn or Cai had pulled the book from the shelf. Cai’s room as exactly as Caitlyn had left it. A racer bed, with Ironman drapes and coverlet. Cai wanted the entire room painted red, but Owen had put his foot down at one accent wall. At least, Caitlyn had called it an accent wall when one of the three walls bore a different color.
Cai placed the book in Ivy’s hand. She rubbed her hand over the cover as if studying Braille. He watched in confusion when she flipped through each page, lines of concentration marring her pensive features.
“Cai… I might mess up a few of the words, okay,” she said shooting a glance in Owen’s direction. “I need you to help me.”
Realization hit Owen like a frozen slab of beef. She was nervous about reading in front of him.
Cai’s eye lit with delight. One thing about his son, he liked to help.
“Yes,” he beamed, clapping his hands.
“Ivy, I could—,”
“I can do it, Owen.”
Pride swelled in his chest. She shared her vulnerability with him, and he would stand beside her in support.
Moving closer, he placed one hand on her shoulder in encouragement. When she reached up and covered her hand with his, he felt like he’d won the biggest teddy bear at the Sacramento County Fair.
Ten minutes later the story was done, and Cai was sound asleep. On quiet feet, they exited the room and partially closed the door.
“I’m dyslexic, Owen.” She dropped her head in embarrassment. “Was nine-years old before I could read with any fluency.”
She seemed to shrink before him. What the heck did she expect him to do, criticize her?
He took her into his arms. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart. It takes courage to confess a difference that others can’t see.”
Ivy hugged him so tight that his heart broke a little for the challenges she must have faced. Who’d made this wonderful, passionate woman feel less than perfect?
“I like you, Owen Tate.”
He chuckled. “Oh yeah?” he teased, raising a brow.
“Yeah,” she said burying her head in his chest. “I do.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” he smiled. “Come on, let me tuck you in.”
When she blew out a breath, he knew he’d made the right decision—to go to bed alone. Even now, feeling her willing body curled against his, Owen knew his life would never be the same. Twenty-four hours ago, he never imagined the sense of hope that unfolded on the inside. Had he found the woman for him and his son?
Chapter 7
Ivy wanted to keep Owen with her a while longer. Reading with Cai and admitting her disability to Owen had shaken her. A lot had changed since she tugged on the door to No Limit Bar and Grille. They stood in the entryway to her room. Did he want to stay by her side, too? His fingers tangled in her hair before she felt a gentle tug.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Should she admit that the last thing she wanted was to lay down alone. Ivy has spent most of her life alone. Even growing up in her mother’s home, she’d felt so alone after her father left. It was like his absence had created a void in both her and her mother’s lives. A void her mother had no idea how to fill.
“I was thinking your hand could use some ice.” The lie rolled off her tongue with ease. Would he take the bait?
Relaxed, he slid his big arms around her waist, a peculiar look covering his handsome features.
“Ivy, if you want to stay with me, just say that. No need to create a reason.”
She blushed. He must have seen the color change because he chuckled.
“Not used to a man being direct.”
She shook her head. “Not with his feelings.”
“His feelings? You thinking of a specific man?”
Ivy refused to discuss her past, with anyone. She went still at the low grumble in his chest.
“You can trust me not to judge.”
It wasn’t his judgment she was concerned with. Ivy had beat herself up enough over the foolish choices in her life. In reality, she didn’t want to open Pandora’s box, because that heifer talked entirely too much.
“I know.” Though she’d known this man for less than seventy-two hours, she inherently knew she could trust him.
“So, you’re not ready?”
Her body was ready for everything his touch promised, but her heart needed a little more time.
“I am.”
He rubbed a thumb over her lips. Ivy’s mouth watered. The feel of his roughened hands against her skin spiked her temperature. What would he do to her with those calloused fingers?
“I want everything, Ivy. More than your body.”
She opened her mouth to deny his claim, and he pressed his lips to hers.
“Don’t lie.” His eyes hardened. “Like I said before, when the time is right, it’ll happen between us.”
Her mouth, no longer wet with desire, felt dry suddenly. He seemed so sure of her. Ivy gave, “by the seat of her pants” a challenge. She couldn’t think of a time when she felt absolute in one of her decisions. Flexibility was key to a life on the move.
“Why are you so sure about me?”
“You like my hands on you.”
Actually, she loved the feel of his hands caressing her skin. Never had a man’s touch undone her. His fingers acted like a master control switch. Ivy knew she was powerless to refuse his commands.
“I do,” she admitted, not ashamed to share her desire for him.
“You’re the first woman, since I lost my wife, who has garnered my attention, Ivy.”
Whoa. Had she ever been anyone’s first?
Her heart soared at the compliment.
“That’s nice,” she said, giving him a coy smile.
A guarded expression crossed his face, but then as fast as it had appeared it disappeared. Was he troubled by the revelation?
“Owen, if this is too soon-“
His hands settled at her waist, before he took her mouth again.
“Come downstairs. I need to make sure, Autumn closed up the bar.”
She hesitated only a moment, before she fell into step beside him.
“Why didn’t Autumn come upstairs to put Cai to bed?” Had he said something to the woman? Not that Ivy cared what the babysitter thought of her, but it was never her intent to cause Owen any trouble. After all, Cai would need her once Ivy left. The thought surprised her. But, somehow she knew she would take care of both Owen and his son for as long as she stayed in Endurance.
“I told her we would get Cai off to sleep.”
With a squeeze to his hand, Ivy halted their descent.
“Why would you do that?” Owen Tate saw entirely too much when he looked at her with those bottomless blue eyes.
�
��’Cause I noticed you watching us.”
Her breath hitched. Had her disappointment been that obvious?
“I did no such thing.” She so had. He gave her a smirk, and her facade crumbled. “Okay, maybe a little.”
“Ivy, I have to consider Cai in everything I do. There are no cat and mouse games between us.”
That was the thing, though. She felt pursued. His every look, every touch had her acting on instinct, mating instinct.
“Come on. I could use that ice.”
The fact that he was hurting jolted her into action. She began to move, with a smooth stride down the steps.
“Is your hand ache?”
“Not my hand, sweetheart,” he grimaced.
She frowned. “Then, what is it?”
“My hand is fine, but there’s a part of me that’s for sure swollen.”
She knew it was pure male arrogance that prompted him to divulge his “situation” but joy blossomed inside her. Owen Tate saw her, the flirting, the edge, the flaws, yet he still desired her.
“Yeah,” she said meeting his eyes. “I think I could use some ice, too.”
Once in the kitchen, Ivy prepped an ice pack while Owen checked the ovens, refrigerator temperatures, tomorrow’s menu, and the doors.
With the heating unit dormant for the night, the California chill common to the western desert settled over her skin. Goosebumps rose, and the ice she held didn’t help.
Right on cue, Owen entered the room. He studied her and though she felt the cool in the room, her body heated. Taking in the evidence of the chill to her skin, he plucked the bag from her hand, depositing it in the sink at her back.
“Come here, Ivy.” His voice struck all the right cords on her sex-meter. God, ever cell in her body wanted to be tangled up in this man. Without conscious thought, she walked right into his arms.
“I’ll warm you up,” he whispered, closing strong arms around her. How had she lived for twenty-two years having never felt the sensations coursing through her body? This man appealed to her in the basest of ways, yet he fed her spirit, her hopes, and dreams.
“Gosh, Owen. What are you doing to me?”
“What does that mean?”
The whole time he kept her close. She couldn’t remember her father or her mother cradling her with such tenderness. For the first time in her life, she truly felt cherished and dare she allow herself to think it, loved. Could Owen Tate love a woman like her?
“I can’t bear to be away from you,” she confessed
“And that’s a problem, why?”
“Owen, be realistic. You’ll be judged for cavorting with a woman like me. A nomad with limited education, limited resources, and an unlimited potential for screw-ups.” That’s when he drew back, leaving her with an empty sensation.
“All I’m hearing is how other people might perceive of us. I know you’re an amazing woman, Ivy. Is there a reason you can’t be with me?”
And there it was. He’d put the decision back in her hands. She could hear the underlying in his voice. Why don’t you want me? Ivy’s novelty wore off quick. The flirting, the sassy comebacks were her weapons. When she was alone, she was just plain old Ivy— a woman with no home, no connections, and no future.
“There are a lot of reasons,” she said, not quite sure she could share what happened to her mother at the hands of a lover.
“I want to hear them, Ivy. I’m not walking away from how I feel about you.”
Ivy’s heart beat a little faster in her chest. Here was this big-hearted guy, well-educated, trusted member of society who’d lost his wife, yet he’d endured that grief in silence and focused on raising his son. Now, by some twist of the universe, he wanted Ivy with all her problems to share in his world. How could she not fall in love with him? He needed to know the truth.
“Owen,” she breathed. “My mom and I never had very much. There were times, when I was growing up that we had to live in a women’s shelter. The Second Chance House in Shell Cove, its home for me,” she said not looking at him.
How pathetic she must appear. Who considered a shelter home? Ivy felt the sizzle of his warmth before he touched her.
“You could have a home here, Ivy, in Endurance.”
When Ivy looked into his blue eyes she saw compassion rather than condemnation. She wanted what he offered so bad she ached with need.
“My mom had a tough time with men, Owen. A lot of different men,” she emphasized without saying more. As a got older and understood the all the uncles in our life were men she depended on to take care of us. I started looking for opportunities to stay away from wherever we were living at the time.”
Owen pulled her into his embrace. “You were a kid, Ivy. You should’ve been protected from that. It’s a good thing you learned to protect yourself.”
“I had to look pretty, put on a dress,” she hissed. Thinking of how she felt like an object up for auction, Ivy’s stomach rebelled.
He stopped her. “You don’t have to perform for me, Ivy. I see you and I like what I see,” he whispered.
“I know, but-” What if she judged Owen all wrong?
“She met a nice man and I thought she had finally gotten it right. I felt okay about staying away. She was safe,” her voice trembled. Ivy had never regretted being wrong more in her life. She suspected she never would.
Owen had picked up on the change in tone in her voice.
“What happened?”
“They got in a fight. He lived to tell his side of the story—my mom didn’t.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry,” he pulled her in close to his chest.
“I wasn’t there for her, Owen. I let her down.”
“Shh, now.” With his big hands, he rubbed her shoulders, and made soothing treks up and down her back. How could he treat her with such kindness? Her mother had been the only person in the world to really love her, and Ivy had failed her.
“You did no such thing.”
“I did. She trusted him. I put my trust in a man to-“
“As a parent, I would never want my child in harm’s way. She loved you. Trust me when I say your mother was thankful you weren’t there that day, Ivy.”
Could Owen be right? Could she realize the guilt of having failed the one person who loved her unconditionally? Right now, she could not put the emotional energy into unpacking all the hurt, pain, and loss she felt over the decision to stay away that day.
“Thank you, Owen. I appreciate you sharing your perspective.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Not all men take advantage of their women, Ivy.”
Guess he’d picked up on her man issues. “Let’s not talk about that now.”
He pulled back, encircling her upper arms in both hands. Owen looked down, his eyes fixed on hers.
“Then when? I would never hurt you, sweetheart. You know this about me, right?” His eyes lit with determination. She knew the topic would be waiting for her in the morning. “So, what are you searching for, Ivy?”
She’d found it here in Endurance, with a little boy who loved sweet potato muffins and a blue-eyed protector who loved to touch her.
“Nothing you don’t already possess.”
At her admittance, those determined eyes, softened with satisfaction.
He tugged her hand. “Come. I’ll put you to bed.”
She followed, wishing she could spend all her nights in his bed.
* * *
Owen could not allow Ivy to push their relationship strictly into the physical realm. He felt her eyes on him, begging him to take her to his bed. Somehow, he knew after everything they’d shared today, making love to her now would relegate him into the same category she used to dump other men. Her body held a definite appeal, the woman was toned and curvy, but he wanted to possess the heart of her. The portion she guarded with bold flirtations and that sharp tongue.
“Get in,” he said pulling the cover back.
Wordlessly, sh
e climbed between the sheets. White lacy panties peeked out from under her t-shirt, taunting him.
Next, he pulled the covers over her chest. The rounded globes bounced, and his body tightened at the knowledge that besides the panties, her body was bare beneath the thin shirt. Gritting his teeth, Owen ignored the burgeoning stiffness in his pants.
Small fingers wrapped around his wrist.
“Will you stay with me?”
Just like that, Owen felt his will power slipping away just like those panties she wore. He could have her bare and beneath him in minutes. It would be so easy, but how long would it take tomorrow to mend what he broke tonight? He wouldn’t betray the trust he knew she needed, even if she didn’t realize everything she asked of him.
“I’ll stay,” he offered, but then quickly added, “until you fall asleep.”
Even in the shadow of their bodies, he saw her eyes drop to half-mast.
Toeing off his boots, he stripped down to his boxers and shirt and climbed in beside her.
Without asking, he lifted and pulled her lithe form onto his chest. He replayed everything that happened today. Man, Delaney’s callout had netted him one of the best days he’d had in years. Ivy had handled the bar and grille with ease, wowed his customers and put a smile on his son’s face. In a word, she was incredible.
“Thank for agreeing to make Cai’s birthday cake,” he whispered.
When the soft pads of her fingers brushed across his pecs, he placed a palm over her hand, keeping it there. Ivy couldn’t know how much that cake meant to him and Cai. Caitlyn’s accident had happened the day before Cai’s third birthday. She’d promised to bake Cai an Ironman-shaped cake complete with the red outfit. In the aftermath following her death, Owen had been too grief-stricken to deliver on his wife’s last promise to her son. They spent Cai’s birthday in tears, both of them. Owen lost in his grief, Cai with a broken heart.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered back, tickling the underside of his hand.
““Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he warned, knowing tonight would be all wrong for lovemaking. Seeing Ivy in his kitchen, the sheer delight she exuded at providing a meal for people she liked, told him she was more traditional than she let on. He needed, no…wanted, to woo her. Show her and himself he could romance a woman.