by Jane Porter
“Eggs,” she repeated.
“We have some, don’t we?”
“Half a dozen, I think.”
“Perfect.”
She hesitated, her brows pulling together. “I…” Her frown deepened. “Um, I don’t know how.”
“You don’t know how to make eggs?”
Her chin lifted a fraction, and she gave him an unsmiling look. “Have I shocked you that much?”
“No.”
“Are you testing my domestic skills? Measuring how much I mastered before becoming a woman?”
Billy knew he shouldn’t, but he laughed. She was so outraged. “No need to take it so personally. I was just surprised. I thought eggs were pretty basic and something everyone knew how to make.”
Her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t eat a lot of eggs. I am more of a yogurt for breakfast kind of girl, thank you.”
He fought the urge to smile, aware it wouldn’t help anything. “You’re welcome.”
“Are you in need of eggs to start your day?”
“I enjoy a hot breakfast and prefer eggs. Eggs are a good protein, and apparently there’s an enzyme in eggs that helps you stay full longer, which is helpful when you’re always hungry.”
“You’re always hungry?”
“I have a fast metabolism,” he confessed, amused, and enjoying himself far too much.
He shouldn’t like riling her up, but when she was feisty like this, she reminded him of one of his favorite hens, Mrs. Broody, who’d get so mad when any of them entered the chicken coop each morning. Mrs. Broody was the one who’d let out a squawk and then do her best to chase them away. Billy also suspected Erika wouldn’t appreciate being compared to a chicken.
“I had no idea,” she drawled.
He smiled innocently. “There was no reason to discuss it.”
“You’ll have to fill me in on all your requirements. Until now, I’ve been pretty occupied with Beck. Perhaps I should get a notebook and write down your schedule and your nutritional needs.”
Billy laughed, the sound filling the kitchen. Erika glared at him. He couldn’t remember when he’d last enjoyed himself so much. “I’d hate to overwhelm you,” he said. “Why don’t we just focus on breakfast, and I’ll stay here and give you a little tutorial—”
“Not necessary.”
“No trouble at all,” he replied, deliberately misunderstanding her meaning. “I’ll walk you through scrambled eggs today, and then we could try fried eggs tomorrow.”
Her lips compressed and her blue-green eyes blazed at him. He could practically feel her temper rise degree by degree. “How about you walk me through scrambled eggs today,” she said through gritted teeth, “and then that’s what you get from here on out.”
He smiled at her. Most charmingly. “Will I be pushing my luck to ask for some bacon and sausage?
“I could probably do one or the other. You don’t need both.”
“You’re worried about my cholesterol.”
“I’m worried about the work required to feed you.”
“Perfectly valid. But could I request toast? If it’s not too much trouble? Two slices whole wheat, white, sourdough. Whatever we have with plenty of butter. I like it light brown—”
“Listen Billy, I am not a diner. This is not Erika’s Kitchen. You’re going to get toast, I can’t guarantee it will be the right color, I can’t guarantee it will have the right amount of butter. I can’t even promise you that it will be warm when I serve it, but you will have toast, two eggs—”
“Three?” he interrupted hopefully.
“You eat three eggs every morning?”
He nodded. “And bacon and sausage. Or a nice ham steak.”
“So you personally go through a dozen eggs every four days?”
“Sometimes in three days, depending on what else I’m eating.”
“How many slices of toast each morning?”
“Two, please.” He gave her his sweetest smile.
Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t smile back. “So let’s get this straight. Three eggs, two bacon, and two slices of toast.”
“Or three sausage links and, or, a nice thick ham steak.”
“No pork chops?” she snapped sarcastically.
He heard the sarcasm and liked it. Her fire made him hungry and hard. He wanted her even more. She was smart, beautiful, sassy, sexy. So sexy. Which just made him want to tease her more. “I do like grilled pork chops with eggs, very much. We don’t have any pork chops, do we?”
“No. No, we don’t. Now, how about I scramble the eggs and then you show me how you like them cooked. And no more changing up the order. No more special requests. You get what you get, and don’t throw a fit.”
“You sound just like my kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Gosnell.”
“I imagine you were quite demanding as a five-year-old.”
“Tommy was more so.” And then he smiled at her, a slow easy smile. “But I wasn’t an angel.”
“Huh. Shocked.”
He laughed and watched as her beautiful face turned pink.
“You know,” she said tartly, “on second thought, I don’t need you in the kitchen while I cook up your eggs. I can just go to YouTube.”
*
Erika managed to cook eggs and everything else Billy wanted. The bacon was burnt, the eggs were a hard dark yellow on the bottom, and the toast was cold, but it was food and after getting one of the bottles of hot sauce from his refrigerator and liberally dousing his plate, he ate every bite.
After breakfast, Billy told her to get to work, that he had Beck and she wasn’t to worry about a thing. Erika glanced from Billy’s sling to his stiff posture, aware that he could barely move without wincing, and she wanted to question if he could really be left alone with Beck, but she appreciated that he wanted to try.
“I’ll just be in the next room,” she said. “Come get me if you need—”
“I won’t,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ve got this.”
She gave one last look at Beck propped up in his car seat on the coffee table facing his dad and smiled grimly. Beck would probably last ten minutes before he started crying. He didn’t like being left in one position too long, but she didn’t want to be a downer, not when Billy was trying to take on dad duties so that she could work.
In her room, she sat on her bed, laptop out, earbuds in to block out noise, and got down to work, aware that she didn’t have all day. It took a few minutes before she remembered where she was, and what she needed to be doing, and then she was working, brain engaged, fingers flying on the laptop keyboard. It had been so long since she’d made headway, and it felt good to be productive, detached from the domestic worries, and free to just sink back into her writing.
She didn’t know how long she’d been at work when she saw black sweatpants in her peripheral vision. Billy was standing next to the bed and she lifted her head, removed her ear pods.
“I can’t get his diaper back on,” Billy said. “My fault for trying to change him on the couch.”
“Where is he now?”
“On the couch.”
“Oh, Billy, he could roll off,” she said, jumping to her feet.
“I blocked him in,” he answered, following her out of the bedroom.
In the living room she discovered that Billy really had blocked him in. Practically every pillow from the couch was positioned around him, forming a pillow corral. It worked for now while Beck was still so little, but in another month, Beck would be able to knock those around. She held her tongue though, and quickly lifted Beck, carrying him into her room to finish changing him.
Again, Billy followed her, watching as she rifled through a suitcase for diapers and a clean onesie since the other one was no longer wearable.
“You make that look so easy,” Billy said from the doorway.
“I’ve had a month of practice,” she answered, shooting him a quick smile. He looked ridiculously handsome this morning. Maybe it was the zipper halfway dow
n on his sweatshirt, and the fact that his upper chest was all tantalizing bronzed skin and muscle, or maybe it was the shadow on his jaw that made him look rakish. “You’ll be just as good, if not better, within a few weeks.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. “He should have his own room, shouldn’t he? With real furniture, not just a portable crib.”
She snapped the onesie closed over Beck’s diaper and gave his tummy a light pat. He gurgled up at her, his wide gummy smile delighting her as always. He was such a good baby, so sweet, so happy. “A changing table would be smart, too. It’d be easier for you to manage diaper changes.”
“What else?”
“Maybe a high chair, since he’ll be eating food soon. He could also sit in that and play with toys on the tray while you make yourself breakfast,” she said, giving Billy an arched look as she lifted Beck from the bed and kissed his forehead.
Billy gave her a lazy smile. “I love your sense of humor.”
Something in his eyes made her breath catch. The man had a ridiculous amount of charisma. She didn’t want to be this attracted to him, and yet just looking at him made her feel a little weak in her knees, and a little light-headed. “So where do you want me to put him? On the floor for some tummy time, or in his car seat with the bar of toys in front of him?”
“The car seat would probably be easier. I don’t think I can pick him up from the floor, not yet, at least.”
“Maybe I should just hang out with you guys. You’ve only been out of the hospital for a day or so.”
“You have work to do.”
“I know, but I think it might be too soon to have you taking over.” She saw his mouth open to protest and she hastily added, “You want to heal quickly, not prolong your recovery.”
Billy’s smile faded, and his gaze met hers and held. There was heat in his eyes, as well as that something that made her heart beat faster and her insides flutter. Was this the effect he had on all those other women? Blasted beast.
“You think of everyone but yourself,” he said, his deep voice low, almost a growl.
A shiver raced through her, curiosity. Pleasure. “I’m less worried about me in the big picture, than I am of Beck—”
“You don’t need to worry about Beck.”
“But I do. Beck needs you. You have to stick around.”
“Of course I’m sticking around.”
“Not if you rush back into competing before you’re ready. Not if you keep risking life and limb.”
*
He said nothing, but he did step back as she exited the room.
Erika faced him in the hallway. “What do you intend to do after you’re done competing on the rodeo circuit?”
“Not even thinking that far ahead, as I have a good fifteen years or more of competition in me.”
“Fifteen years?”
He tried to shrug but ended up wincing. “I love what I do.”
Erika’s temper stirred. He could be such a blockhead sometimes. “Is it realistic to think you can compete that long? I heard Sam talking about all of his injuries. Sounds like he’s pretty banged up.”
“Sam’s had a lot more injuries than me—”
“You just had a big one.”
“And I love competing more than he does,” he retorted, ignoring her interruption. “There are other things Sam wants to do, like ranching, for example. But I’m not excited about ranching. I bought property without a lot of acreage because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life doing what I did as a kid. I love what I’m doing now. If I could, I’d do it forever.”
“That’s a lot of travel. Almost a year of travel.”
His jaw hardened. “That’s what I like.” His voice had grown flinty as well. “I enjoy being out on the road. I enjoy the camaraderie of other cowboys.”
“And girls,” she muttered.
“Oh yeah,” he agreed, with a provocative smile. “Can’t forget the girls.”
Erika glowered, so over him. “I’m going to take Beck for a walk,” she said curtly. “You’re not invited.”
They got through the rest of the day with minimal conversation. Billy slept much of the afternoon, and when Beck napped, Erika worked on her dissertation. Beck took a long nap today and she was able to get some solid work done, and still have time for a long hot bath in the tub in the guest bathroom.
Dinner was provided for them that night by a kind neighbor who had left the spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, and salad on the doorstep. It was all still warm and so nothing needed to be heated.
Billy had been the one to let her know that dinner was on the front doormat, and she just nodded and brought everything in.
She was still annoyed with him, and he seemed just as annoyed with her.
Good. The mutual frustration should help her cope with the lust feelings, effectively dousing some of his potent charm.
After dinner, Billy did his best to clean up using just his right hand, without bending too much. She let him clean up, too. If he was as tough as he said, and that enamored with his sport, then he could suffer through the minimal dishes.
She was sitting on the couch with Beck, giving Beck a last bottle for the night, when Billy asked if she’d like a cup of tea or anything.
It was the first time they’d spoken since she’d served dinner. “I’d love a cup,” she said, as the evenings in Utah always grew cool. “As long as it’s herbal, or decaf.”
He brought her a mug of tea, the mug featuring a cowboy with the words, WORLD’S HOTTEST COWBOY, and she looked up at him, eyebrow arched. “Really?”
He smiled that slow, wicked, sexier-than-sin smile of his. “Just wanted to remind you.”
Erika laughed. She couldn’t help it. “You’re impossible.”
“Thank you.”
“Ahem. That’s not a compliment.”
He eased into his armchair. “You know, my mom always used to say the same thing.”
“About being impossible?”
“But I think she secretly liked it. I was the one who made her smile. Mom has a tendency to be serious. It gave me pleasure knowing I could get her to laugh when no one else could. Laughter’s important.”
“It is important.” Erika drew the bottle from Beck’s lips and set it down. “You are important. You want to live a long life, just like your granddad. You want to be here for Beck’s kids one day. That won’t happen if you get gored or rolled on too many times.”
“I appreciate your concern,” he answered. “I’m being sincere, too. It’s nice to know you care.”
“I’m thinking of Beck.”
“You can like me a little bit, Erika. It’s okay.”
*
Billy watched as soft pink color stained her cheeks, and she bit down into her lower lip, working it over as she did whenever she was nervous.
He wanted to be the one sucking on that lip. He wanted to feel her pressed against him. He’d wondered how she’d react if he brushed his lips across the curve of her cheek and the soft bow of her upper lip.
He’d liked the way her brow creased ever so slightly as if she didn’t quite know what to do with him. He liked the uncertainty in her eyes that always reminded him of green turquoise. She had little flecks of gold and black against the green, the gold darker than her honey hair and arched eyebrows.
There was no doubt Erika was beautiful and smart and way too good for him, but every woman needed affection and it crossed his mind that it might have been a long time since she’d been shown affection. Since she’d been thoroughly, and properly, kissed. Loved.
Maybe it was a good thing he was still so broken and sore, because it limited his ability to move, severely curtailing his seduction skills. If he was going to take her to his bed, he’d do it properly, not half-assed. She needed hours of foreplay, and that required skill, and mobility. At least he had a goal, besides getting back to work.
“I do like you,” she said crisply. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
“I
thought you were here for Beck.”
“That goes without saying. But I can care about you, too. Just because I want the best for you doesn’t mean I want to be your next buckle bunny.”
He grinned at her reference to the groupies and girls that hung around the rodeos, craving attention from the professional cowboys. “So glad we cleared that up. I might have gotten confused.”
*
Erika slept restlessly, dreaming of Billy, not sweet dreams, either, but provocative dreams of him and her, dreams where he was kissing her and driving her crazy.
She woke up feeling a little besotted.
She hated it. She hated spending so much time thinking about Billy… his body, his face, his hands, his mouth. It didn’t matter how he kissed, because she wasn’t going to kiss him. It didn’t matter if he looked hot. She wasn’t going to touch him. It didn’t matter if he’d woken her libido that had been dormant for years. She wasn’t going to get laid.
She had to focus on why she was here, and then how she was going to shift gears, when it was time to shift gears.
And maybe that was the hardest part of all, thinking about leaving.
She didn’t want to picture that day, or how it would feel to go, leaving Beck and Billy behind. Nothing inside of her found joy, or peace, in the prospect, and so she pushed it from her mind and left her bed to get her day started.
Just like yesterday, she helped Billy with his bandages and sling. Just like yesterday, she made him eggs—slightly less brown on the bottom, but this time the top layer looked weirdly wet—but he just covered it all in his Tapatio sauce and ate every bite.
Midmorning, she gave Beck another bottle and then after he fell asleep in her arms, she laid him in his travel crib and darkened the blinds and quietly shut the bedroom door. Not even five minutes later the doorbell rang, and she went to the front door and found two enormous boxes on the doorstep. She shouted a thank you to the back of the departing driver, but the driver shouted back that he had more, quite a bit more. It actually took the driver four trips in all to deliver everything to the porch, and once he was gone, Erika stared at the mountain of cardboard boxes in dismay. How on earth was all of that to get into the house… and once there, where would it go?