by Em Petrova
“Do you think his refusal to be affectionate is because he’s angry?”
“I didn’t think so until I saw how open he is to you. He…hugged your leg.”
“Yes, he’s a great kid. I’m glad I can be there for him. But you know that he loves you above anything else, right?”
She stopped walking, tears scalding her nose. “No.”
“Have you ever heard about boys and their mothers? A special bond lies between them. I love my pa, but I’d never, ever want to disappoint my momma. Alex will come around—I know it.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am. Here he is now.”
She looked up in time to see Alex hurtling around the corner of an outbuilding, a big grin on his face, mud slopped up his shins. He ran straight at her and threw his arms around her hips, burying his face against her shirt.
She sucked in a breath, heart throbbing in her throat. The minute her hands touched his solid back, he switched to hugging Witt. Then Witt flipped him upside down and shook him by one leg until he squealed. As another peal of delight exploded from Alex, Witt hitched him up and settled him on his shoulders.
Heart bursting, choking back happy tears, she looked at the cowboy who’d somehow squeezed his way into her life. He threw her a crooked grin that made her mind whirl as much as his kisses.
“Let’s go visit, Kiser. All three of us.” He took her hand. And she let him.
Chapter Five
Witt gasped as warm, smooth hands covered his eyes. He reached to cover Shelby’s fingers but didn’t even try to pull them away.
“I have a surprise for you.” Her voice wheedled into his brain, heating him in ways he’d never known. In the week since she’d visited the ranch, he’d seen her every day. Each time, she opened the door a little wider and let him in a little more.
“What’s the sur—” His words were cut off when she shoved something in his mouth. He bit down and sweet, delicious apple spilled over his tongue. He groaned.
“Apple pie cupcake with salted caramel buttercream.” She removed her hands and bounced before him. He savored every spice in the cupcake and swallowed. Dark heat mounted in his groin as he stepped toward her.
She backed up, eyes darting as she searched for an escape.
“You aren’t getting away from me. Any woman who can make apple pie cupcakes is going to be mine.”
She laughed and ducked under his arm, putting the length of the shop between them. At this time of afternoon, the place was empty, Nell had left early for a doctor’s appointment and Alex hadn’t yet come in from school. Leaving them alone.
And leaving a helluva lot of chores undone on the ranch. His brothers were going to kick Witt’s ass if he didn’t start pulling his weight. But there was a certain attraction for him in Vixen—one he couldn’t stay away from for too long.
He stalked toward Shelby, drinking in the way she caught her lip in her teeth and her chest worked faster under that adorable red plaid top she wore.
“What will you do with me?” she asked.
“Lock you up and force you to make more cupcakes for me, of course.”
Her phone vibrated on the counter, and he laid a hand on it. She wasn’t going to pick it up until he was done with her. Without thinking, he glanced at the screen.
I’ll meet you tonight in our old booth, okay? Just say yes.
Witt’s heart dropped. He looked at Shelby and panic crossed her beautiful features. “You’ve got a date tonight.” He seemed to speak from a distance. He set the phone down and they stared at each other from across the shop, a chasm between them.
Until now he hadn’t realized how little he knew about her. Maybe he’d been fooling himself all week, thinking she liked him too. He’d talked himself into believing she’d been standing at the window when he’d come in because she’d been waiting for him.
She shook her head. “I can explain.”
“You don’t need to.” He started toward the door, confusion making it hard to draw a full breath.
“I do.” She rushed forward and grabbed his forearm. The instant her fingers wrapped around his sleeve, he felt her towing him under once more. What was it about this woman that ripped the earth from under his feet?
“Please just sit down and listen to me.” She hauled him to a wooden chair painted pink and pushed him into it. She sank to the opposite chair, hands in her lap.
“That was a text from Vonny, wasn’t it?” she asked.
He swallowed. Nodded. Give her a chance. Don’t look at the door, waiting for the angry husband to come in and kick the shit outta you.
“You’re involved with this Vonny?”
“No. I was. He just won’t give up.”
“It’s not your ex, wanting you back?”
“No. I met Vonny after my ex and I parted.”
Witt breathed a little easier but his ribs still creaked with jealousy. He hated every man who had come before him. “Okay. You don’t need to tell me more.”
“I do, though. Witt, I’m going to come clean with you so you know how screwed up I really am. I don’t have one ex-husband—I have two.”
He collapsed against the seat so hard, the back creaked.
“And a trail of ex-fiancés.”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. Hell. He didn’t have a prayer.
Finding his voice, he asked, “How many are on that trail?” He needed to know because he didn’t want to be another standing on the dirt path.
“Five.” Her voice was small and she dropped her gaze to her hands. “I’m not proud of it. It makes me feel stupid to hop from relationship to relationship this way.”
“You were deep with them—all of them?” He felt that apple candy sitting heavily in his stomach.
She nodded and flashed him those blue eyes—the ones he’d fallen for. As had many other guys. She was still special to Witt, but he may be nothing to her.
He pushed out a breath. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“I know. I just wanted you to hear…”
“Hear what?”
“That you don’t want me, Witt. You’re a nice guy, great with kids and the best damn kisser I’ve ever known in my life.”
His head swelled along with parts much lower.
She was agitated, gnawing on that sweet morsel of her lower lip, hands twisting on the table now. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression this past week. I can’t deny that I like spending time with you, but—”
He trapped her hands, stilling them. “That’s all I need to hear, sweetheart.”
“That I’m crazy, changing guys like I’m changing underwear?”
A laugh burst from him. “If you only change your underwear that often, we have more troubles than I thought.”
“Witt!”
He squeezed her hands. “Thank you for telling me.”
She met his gaze. “It scares you.”
“A little, yeah.”
“You should go before Alex comes back. I don’t want him getting attached to you.”
“Shelby, stop. Even if you and I don’t work out, I’m still Alex’s friend. That doesn’t end, ever.”
She made a sound deep in her chest.
“I have a lot of competition, it seems. But it just makes me more determined. I won’t let you push me away, sweetheart. I’m in your life, and I’m going to overshadow all those guys in your past.”
A stuttering sigh left her and her hands convulsed under his.
He went on, “I think you like me and you’re too afraid to admit it to yourself.”
“Why would I like you? You come into my shop and make yourself at home behind the counter where you don’t belong. And you leave mud on my floors.”
He glanced at the few clumps he’d left at the door. Grinning, he nodded. “I am a pain about muddy boots, I’ll admit. Just ask my momma. I’m sorry for it, though I can’t say I’ll ever stop having mud on my boots. But I know you still like me, sweetheart.”
“How?�
� Her long brows creased as if she was trying to puzzle out whether or not she really did and waiting for Witt to tell her.
“I know because you made me that cupcake. You remembered me saying I love apple pie and you did that for me, Shelby.”
She turned her hands over and grasped his. Her touch seared straight to his soul, and in that minute he realized he was about to neglect the hell out of his chores.
When she issued a low, throaty laugh, the hairs on his nape stood on end. “Do you want another cupcake?”
“Yes, and so much more.”
* * * *
“You ought to try some new fudge flavors. I think the folks in Vixen would buy it up,” Nell said as she wiped down the counter.
“Oh? What kinds of fudge?” Shelby only had white chocolate macadamia nut fudge for sale. She’d tinkered with recipes for chocolate and peanut butter but she didn’t like those results as well.
“Penuche fudge.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“You’re missing out, girl! The recipe has been in my family for forty years. My grandmother taught me how to make it. A lot of folks around here remember that old-fashioned fudge.”
Shelby looked up at the far table where Witt was playing a game of checkers with Alex. He dropped her a wink, sending warmth into her system.
Nell followed Shelby’s line of sight. “Witt knows penuche fudge, don’t you? Your momma probably makes it.”
“Yes’m.”
His hat was pushed back, the white brim a bit grubbier than usual. Actually it looked as if it might have landed in the mud and been brushed off.
“Penuche is a combination of sugars and corn syrup but you add vanilla and walnuts.”
“Sounds delicious.”
“It is. You’d better write down this recipe. You need this fudge in your case. Trust me—I know what I’m talking about.”
“Okay.” She grabbed a notecard and wrote out the recipe per Nell’s instructions. Then the woman told her how to arrange the case with the pastries on the top shelf to tantalize the customers so they sold more before they got stale.
While she pulled out trays and reorganized, she felt Witt’s eyes roaming over her. Since the beginning of the week when she’d confided her past to him, he’d been quieter. She had no idea what that meant, but he was still coming into her shop to spend the afternoons with her and Alex.
“Shelby, come look at this too. I think we need to change…”
She gave up on the case and followed Nell’s new whim. By the time she hung up her apron and left with Witt and Alex, she was exhausted. Nell had agreed to close shop today.
Witt offered her that smile—the toe-curling, panty-melting, crooked one. They went out and got into his truck. “Momma’s looking forward to you two coming for dinner. She’s gone all-out with barbecue pork.”
From the back seat, Alex sucked in a breath. “Does that mean you killed one of the pigs?”
“Not the pigs you know. This was last year’s hog, and not a baby. It weighed nine-hundred pounds when we butchered him.” Witt waggled his eyebrows at Alex in the rearview mirror.
Shelby watched the small town fall away and focused on the countryside. Grasses swaying in the breeze, fields dotted with cattle. The tension tugging at her temples started to ease.
Witt reached across the console and scooped her hand into his big one. When he chafed his rough fingertip over the back of her hand, her body responded—an invisible string pulled tight in her nipples and pussy. She clamped her thighs together for the rest of the drive.
Then her cell buzzed with a new message and she spent several minutes trying to get rid of Jeff. After that Witt kept his hands on the wheel and she folded hers in her lap.
The Daltons’ house was bursting with family as usual. Shelby was immediately drawn into a conversation with Maggie and Charlotte about clothing. As she agreed with Charlotte about a certain department store’s selection of kids’ items, she looked up to find Witt’s gaze on her.
Heavy, concerned.
All through dinner he was silent, though he was attentive to her and Alex, refilling her son’s plate with second helpings and passing her the butter before she had to ask.
“Son, after you take Shelby and Alex home later, we need your help,” Mr. Dalton said.
“Sure.”
“He’ll forget. Witt’s too distracted lately,” Beck grumbled.
Shelby stopped mid-bite. Did they mean he was neglecting his duties because of her?
Of course he is, dummy. He’s not on the ranch—he’s down in Vixen with me.
She didn’t look up from her plate, too worried about the number of blue eyes that must be fixed on her right now.
“I’ll be here.” Witt’s voice seemed more gravelly. She stole a peek at his profile to find his lips set into a hard line.
After dinner she rushed to help clean up. Then she went outside to find Witt. He and Alex were completing evening chores together. As she watched the big cowboy instruct her son on the proper way to feed the chickens, her heart melted just a little more.
She sucked in a deep breath of fresh country air. Everything about this ranch and Witt seemed to give her and her son a peace and hope they hadn’t known since the divorce.
But she needed to put a little distance between them. What was she doing here anyway? She’d promised herself no more men. For Alex’s sake and hers too. She didn’t want a third ex-husband or a sixth ex-fiancé.
Mr. Dalton came out of the barn carrying a loop of rope and some tack.
“Can I help you do whatever it is you’re doing?” Alex’s voice carried to Shelby.
“Sure. You feeling brave?” He eyed the boy.
Alex nodded with so much enthusiasm, she feared he’d snap his neck.
“Come on, then.” He moved off with Alex running at his heels. Shelby watched them go with a smile.
She owed it to Witt that Alex was starting to allow her to touch him in small ways—a hand on his shoulder he didn’t brush off. Or a kiss on the top of the head he didn’t duck from.
“Is that okay with you?” Witt jerked a thumb toward Alex and his pa as he approached Shelby.
“Yes. I trust all the Daltons with my most prized possession. I know you’d never let anything bad happen to him.”
He nodded solemnly. “Can I talk to you?”
She gave him her attention, noting the sweat beaded on his tanned throat. Suddenly she wanted to lean in and taste him, to let him fill her nose with the scents of a hardworking man.
Got to get ahold of myself. “Um, sure.”
She let him take her hand and lead her up the porch steps to an old swing hanging from tarnished chains. He gestured for her to sit then crowded beside her.
Thigh to thigh, hip to hip. Shoulder to shoulder. He pushed off with a boot and they started to sway.
Silence fell over them and worry settled in her stomach. The swing creaked. In the distance, lightning zigzagged to the earth. Thunder followed. A big storm was coming.
“Whatever it is, please say it. I value that we don’t play games, Witt.”
He shot her a scorching look from under the brim of his hat. She joined her hands to keep from pushing off his dirty hat and digging her fingers into her hair as she kissed and kissed him.
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to discuss with you, sweetheart.”
Confusion took hold.
“I always expect honesty from people in my life, and I’m afraid you haven’t been completely honest.”
She released a noise of despair. “What?” She racked her brain for reasons he might think badly of her. Had he seen another horrible text from Vonny?
He gathered her hand in his. Warmth invaded but she tried to focus on his words. “I’m afraid you aren’t being true to yourself, Shelby.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been watching you all day. With old Mr. Latchaw when he talked about the best way to make coffee. You listened to him and the n
ext pot you made was to his standards—not yours.”
She stared at his handsome features, unsettled.
“Then when Nell came in, she talked you into making a different kind of fudge and rearranging the case her way. You didn’t do those things because you wanted to.”
No, she hadn’t but what was he getting at?
“Again with Charlotte, I got the feeling that you didn’t share her belief that the clothes in that store were the best value or quality.”
“Well no…”
“Then why did you agree with her? With any of them?”
She shook her head.
“You don’t know, do you?”
“I keep peace with people.”
“Keeping peace doesn’t mean you have to like all of their ideas or agree with them. And it definitely doesn’t mean you have to change your ways because they think it’s best.”
Damn. This was the same behavior she’d fallen into early in her life. She’d liked her ex’s favorite things and had pretended to love sports like bowling to satisfy another’s whims.
She got off the swing and crossed the porch. Wrapping her arms around the post, she stared at the heart-stoppingly gorgeous land as the storm brewed on the horizon. The clouds creating a dark beauty against rolling hills as far as she could see. From here both Hank’s and Cash’s houses were visible.
She turned at Witt’s approach. “You can’t understand. You Daltons live out here like people on another planet. Far from others. You only deal with family and well… Daltons are kind of perfect, aren’t they?”
His throaty laugh washed over her. “Perfect? This morning I got into a huge fight with Beck about shifting my chores onto him. He ripped off my hat, threw it in the mud and stomped on it.”
Her gaze traveled over the dirty brim. Somehow the marred appearance of the white hat only made him look hotter, more rugged. “Witt, you can’t shirk your duties. You need to be on this ranch, not down in the valley with me.”
“I know,” he said slowly, suddenly close enough to kiss, “but I choose it. I can’t stay away from you, sweetheart.”
He plowed his fingers into her hair and covered her mouth with his. The kiss wasn’t tender in any way. He thrust his tongue deep, taking, owning her. Pulling her onto the tips of her boots and snaking his tongue over hers until she stopped caring she hadn’t been honest with herself—she was right now, and that’s all that mattered.