“No name,” he answered.
Her gaze returned to his. “No name?”
He smiled. “You have a suggestion?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know her.”
“Exactly,” he agreed. “Not yet.”
She smiled back. “Oh.”
Her smile caught him unaware. Something about it, the softening of her features and the sparkle in her eyes, took a firm hold of him. Not him. But his chest. Deep inside his chest. An ache. And that damn tightening in his throat.
“Well, Clara’s having a night out.” She stepped back from the gate. “It’ll be me and the girls. Lots of purple crayons.”
A night with her and her daughters. A night of laughter and hugging and coloring and silliness. And Eden smiling. “Sounds nice,” he said.
She laughed then, glancing over her shoulder as she walked out of the barn.
Archer stood there, rigid, hoping that—now that she was gone—he’d feel differently. Instead, the ache grew. And he began to accept that Eden Caraway had done something he’d thought was impossible. She’d taken a firm grip on his heart. And more surprisingly, Archer didn’t mind.
Chapter Seven
Archer stalked into the Lodge, tired and irritated. The temporary fix he and his brothers had rigged for his plumbing was no longer working. No water meant no water. And he needed a shower and something to eat before he fell face-first in his bed.
He’d made sure the horse was bedded down, putting his dad’s even-keeled mare in the stall next to her. The little paint perked up, exchanging a series of whickers and clicks through the wall. Archer had lingered, but he was dead on his feet. He had Luke, one of the resident hands, bunk down close by with strict orders to call him if anything changed.
He slipped through the back door, knowing it was well after midnight. Most of the guests would be asleep or in town dancing at Cutter’s.
He was almost across the great room of the Lodge to his father’s small apartment when he saw Eden walking the floor. And damn if seeing her didn’t remind him just how much trouble he was in. He’d never cared much how a woman’s hair looked, or how graceful she could be dancing back and forth on bare feet. But Eden’s hair, almost white in the dim light, captivated him. She swayed in time to the song she was humming softly—so softly he barely heard her. Baby Lily fussed, clearly fighting sleep and losing the battle.
Ivy was sound asleep in the recliner, hugging a large stuffed animal.
From the looks of it, Eden’s girls’ night wasn’t wrapping up so smoothly.
He was crossing the room before he had time to think through what he was doing.
She saw him, her expression almost apologetic.
“Need help?” he whispered.
She kept bouncing Lily. “No, thank you.”
“What about Ivy?” he asked, glancing at the sleeping girl. “I can put her to bed.”
She smiled, nodding reluctantly.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Please,” she murmured, returning to her lullaby.
Archer scooped Ivy up, her weight slight, and her damp hair, fresh from her bath, had an oddly pleasing scent. She curled against his chest, her hiccup-sigh making him smile.
He followed Eden into their suite, neat stacks of puzzles, books and toys lining the walls. And a pile of papers on one bed. Eden had been working. A rhythmic beep sounded. A phone. Her cell phone—lying on the floor across the room. Half hidden by the chair.
He placed Ivy in the trundle bed, covering her with the sheets and blanket. She barely stirred.
When he stepped back, Eden was laying Lily in her crib. She stayed there, staring down at the baby with so much love he ached. She sighed, picking up the phone from the floor and turning it off. She opened a drawer, buried the phone in clothes and shut it with a surprising amount of force.
They both froze, waiting. Neither girl woke.
Her shoulders drooped. In defeat? Or exhaustion? Not that it was any of his business. And that’s when he realized he was standing in her bedroom. He was intruding. This was her world, a world of sleepless nights, complications, sticky fingers and compromise. A world he didn’t want—a world he hadn’t been invited into. No matter how this woman made him feel, he’d be a fool to want any of this.
He slipped from the room, staring out the large floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the back of the Lodge. The view was incredible. On a clear night like tonight, the ranch seemed endless—edging the horizon. This was his world.
“Thank you,” she said, making him jump.
He glanced at her, his nerves on edge. It didn’t help that she was in a nightgown, not a suit or slacks. And her hair was down, not in a braid or bun. That odd tightening clamped around his throat, making it damn challenging to breathe. He had no right to ask, but he did, anyway. “Everything all right?”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, the hitch in her breath hard to miss. “Have you ever felt trapped, Archer?”
He looked at her then. “No.” Her answering smile was sad. And it made that ache in his chest unbearable. “Are you trapped, Eden?”
She shook her head.
He waited, the slight space between them crackling with something he’d never experienced before.
She looked at him then. “I guess I am.”
He turned toward her, shoving his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t do something stupid. “How?”
She hesitated. “My dad. My ex-husband. I can’t seem to do anything right. It’s...defeating.”
“If they don’t respect you, why do you care what they think?” He ached to comfort her.
“It’s that easy?” she asked.
He nodded. “If it’s not, it should be.”
She smiled, shaking her head. “Well. I work for my father. And my ex-husband works for him, as well.”
Archer frowned. “You’re kidding me. Why?”
“Which?” she asked. “Why do I work for my father? Or why does my ex work for my father?”
He nodded, trying to understand her predicament. “Both.”
“It’s complicated,” she said, clearly uncomfortable. “I have responsibilities.” She glanced at the open door to her suite.
He watched her, noting the crease that formed between her brows and the way her mouth pulled down at the corners. “Uncomplicate it. Work for me. I’m an asshole. You know it. But I’d make sure you could care for your family.”
She looked at him. “You’re not. Trust me. I know what an asshole is. How words can cut you to ribbons and steal your confidence.”
Her sadness infuriated him. “That’s not right, Eden.”
She shrugged, but he saw the helplessness she was scrambling to hide.
He couldn’t take it. How his hands ended up on her shoulders, pulling her close, he didn’t know. But the feel of her, soft in his arms, seemed to wipe reason from his brain. He should let her go. He should show her how professional he was, how sincere he was about helping her. Instead of touching her cheek and tipping her face back. Not to kiss her, but to see her. To study her. The curve of her face and huge eyes... He swallowed, stunned and reeling and not sure what the hell was happening.
But she was moving into him, closer. Her hand rested lightly on his chest as she reached up on tiptoe...and kissed him.
Her lips—warm, soft, sweet—pressed against his. His bones seemed to melt, bonding them together. Her breath wafted across his cheek, her scent filling his nostrils, his lungs. He needed more. All of her, desperately. His fingers slid through the silk of her hair as her hands gripped his shirtfront. His lips parted hers, the heat of her mouth stirring his body to life. Damn but the touch of her tongue on his... He moaned, deep in his throat.
She swayed against him, her breath catching as she clung to him. Too tempting, too yielding. Too perfect.
All
that mattered was this: kissing her, tangling his hands in her hair, holding her close, feeling her pressed tight against him. Any thoughts of control and space and danger were replaced by want—need. The slide of her arms twining around his neck, her hands gripping his head, her mouth moving frantically with his. He’d do whatever he had to do to keep her right where she was...
But the front door opened and he heard his father’s rumble of a laugh.
Eden was gone, the door to her suite closing before he’d time to recognize she was no longer in his grasp.
“I had a good time,” a woman said. “I haven’t danced like that in years. And congratulations on the good news.”
“I confess I suspected that’s what tonight was about. Hunter and Josie have been trying to have a baby for a while, so this is good news,” his father said.
Hunter and Josie were expecting? Archer smiled, happy for his big brother.
“I’m mighty glad you went with me, Clara. I mean it. Now we just need to figure out how to get Eden to stay for a little while longer.”
His father. And Clara.
“We do?” Clara’s voice.
“I think this place is good for her. And...I’d like to spend more time with you,” his father said. “If you’re agreeable to the idea?”
There was a slight pause. Archer held his breath, waiting.
“I am.” Clara sounded nervous, giddy.
His father was dating. That would take some getting used to.
So would accepting that he was falling in love. Especially since he wasn’t sure he believed love really existed.
* * *
EDEN SMILED AS Ivy chattered away about the shape of her pancakes, how many strawberries she was going to eat and that she preferred the long sausages to the round flat ones. Eden was too tired to eat. Instead she downed cups of coffee, hating the nervous knot sitting hard and heavy in her stomach.
What had she done?
During their divorce, Clark had used a slew of unflattering, unfeeling adjectives to justify his wandering eye. Words like cold, aloof, frigid and distant. The ice queen.
Not the sort of woman who would kiss a man in her nightgown. Kiss and kiss until her body was on fire. The want Archer Boone unleashed was unexpected. Powerful. Raw. She sucked in a deep breath, placing her coffee cup on the table with a thud.
It was a mistake. One she needed to learn from. Now she knew how dangerous he was—just how intense their attraction was. And kissing him? She couldn’t let it happen again.
Clara glanced at her, so she smiled at Lily, stroked Ivy’s cheek and tried to engage.
“No teeth,” Ivy was saying. “So they peck.”
“Chickens,” Clara offered.
Eden nodded. “Thank you.”
“Peck peck peck,” Ivy said, eyeing the crumbs on her plate.
“But little girls have teeth.” Eden smiled. “And hands and fingers to help feed themselves.”
Ivy grinned sweetly. “’Course, Momma.”
Eden laughed. “And what do they eat?”
“Corn,” Ivy said. “And cake crumbs. And cookies. And pie crumbs.”
Eden and Clara exchanged a knowing look.
“Lucky chickens,” Eden said, sipping her coffee.
Ivy nodded. “I want one.”
“I’m not sure they’d be happy in our house, Ivy.” Eden sighed.
“Let’s stay,” Ivy said. “I wanna be a farmer with Mr. Teddy.”
Eden saw her daughter wave then, all smiles for the handsome older man waving right back. He was on the phone, talking animatedly. But when his blue gaze met hers, his whole expression changed. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him studying her. Like he was trying to figure something out. Maybe her sleep deprivation was playing tricks on her mind.
“What are your plans today?” she asked Clara.
Clara shrugged. “Teddy...Mr. Boone said he’d take us to the vet hospital. There are some kittens—”
Eden glanced back at Teddy Boone, but he’d turned back to the front desk. She supposed there was a family resemblance between father and son. But Archer was bigger. He didn’t smile as easily. Or talk as often. Archer had a thoughtfulness about him—as if everything he did was a clear, intentional choice versus an impulse.
That’s why she’d kissed him. Because he’d never kiss her. And last night, she’d wanted to kiss him more than...anything. Her insides turned molten at the memory of him crushing her against him, the strength in his hands and the startling heat of his touch. His groan. Her toes curled.
Her phone was ringing. Again. She’d already let her father go to voice mail three times this morning. They’d had a fight last night. She’d refused to give him editing access to several documents and he’d been livid. Chances were this was more of the same. She had no plans to listen to the messages, and clearly, he wasn’t going to give up so...
“Excuse me,” she said, carrying her phone onto the front porch. She rounded the corner and answered the phone. “Yes?”
“I’ve spent the morning on the phone, Eden.”
“Leaving messages for me,” she jumped in.
“No. Trying to make sure your suite in Palm Springs was upgraded for the girls.”
She held her breath, instantly nauseous.
“Are you in Palm Springs?” he asked.
“No.”
“Would you like to tell me where in the hell you and my grandchildren are?” he asked, his tone hard as steel. “Because I paid for Palm Springs.”
She sighed, gripping the wooden railing with her free hand. She didn’t want to tell him a thing. She wanted to hand him a well-researched dossier with everything he’d need to convince the board to deny the refuge’s funding. That had been the plan. But now...
But now, she wasn’t so sure. She swallowed.
“Last we talked you were going to relax, to take a break. Going to Stonewall Crossing was never discussed. Ever.” Her father’s anger was palpable. “But your credit card indicates you’re staying there.”
He’d looked into her bank statements? “I am,” she agreed.
The silence dragged on, but Eden refused to buckle.
“You’ve had a hard couple of years, with work and your personal life. I’ve been extremely understanding. But my patience is running out.”
His patience? Her hand tightened on the banister. She would keep her cool, keep it together. “Site visits for every current and potential recipient is something I’ve done many times. I’m not sure I understand why this is upsetting you. Consider the visit a proactive move on my part.” But then, there were things she didn’t know. Was that why he was upset? Was he hiding something?
“You may be my daughter, but you’re also my employee. If this is a work-related trip, you’d need prior approval before travel. You’d need my approval. Something you would not get. What the hell are you up to?” he snapped.
“My job.” Spending hours poring over every application, every detail, that was under review each night. She knew her job and what needed to be done. She didn’t disappoint or let people down—no matter what he thought. “On all the applications, not just the refuge. But as I’m here, I want to make sure the board has the most up-to-date information.”
“Your job, huh?” He paused, his tone sharp when he asked. “This has nothing to do with your mother?”
Eden held her breath. What did he know? What was he keeping from her? Maybe she did want to know why this place was special to her mother. What the people here meant to her. Whatever it was, it upset her father.
“No answer?” Her father’s voice was clipped and hard. “Now you’re keeping secrets from me.”
“And you’re not?”
“Oh, I’ve got plenty. Because I don’t want the memories of your momma tarnished.”
Eden’s heart was thum
ping in her chest. What did that mean? Her mother would never have been unfaithful to her father. As long as they were married, she’d have honored the vows she made. “What are you saying?”
“Me? I’m not saying a damn thing, Eden. Not a thing.” His tone was brittle.
Yes, there were plenty of Clarks in the world. But her mother wasn’t one of them. Some people honored their vows. She stared out over the rough country, the greens and browns and bright blue sky so vivid it almost hurt her eyes. “Mom believed in this place. Part of my job—”
“A job I pay you to do. That pays for your nanny, your house and your health care. I know you’ve got some idea that I treat you differently, that I’m harder on you than the rest of my employees—”
“I’m your employee and I work hard for you, Mr. Monroe. I have a nanny because you insist I work ridiculous hours, because you give me the hard cases and the difficult people, and I make it work. I earn my paycheck, every hour of every day.” She paused, sucking in a deep breath. “Any implication that my paycheck is because I’m your daughter is resented and untrue. I do a damn good job for you, one you should be proud of.” She hated the hitch in her voice—hated revealing anything to him.
“Don’t come crying to me if you don’t like what you find. Your mom’s dead. You’re not getting any questions answered.” He paused. “I’d fire any other employee for doing what you’re doing, Eden.”
She paused, staring blindly ahead. “Are you saying you’ll fire me?”
He sighed. “Guess we’ll talk about it when you get back. Got another call,” he said, and then hung up.
She stared at the phone, hating the telltale sting of tears in her eyes. So much for finally proving herself to him. Apparently it didn’t matter that she was using her own time and money to be here. Or that she was still putting in a full day’s work. It didn’t matter. He was angry. Over something he wouldn’t talk about.
Anger and defeat washed over her. “Bastard,” she sniffed.
“He always was.” Teddy Boone’s voice made her jump. “Your father, I mean. Jason Monroe. And what exactly is your job, Miss Monroe?”
Her cheeks were burning as she said, “I’m a grant administrator and manager for several trusts managed by my father’s bank.”
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