by Lori Wilde
His lips were so close to hers, hard and angular and masculine. He smelled of hydrogen peroxide, wood shavings, and turpentine.
The tugging pull of pleasure-pain burned deep within her. She’d never felt this level of intense arousal, this brand of raw, aching need. She needed relief and he was the salve.
The next thing Caitlyn knew she’d flung her arms around his neck and she was kissing him like it was the end of the world and they were the last two people in it.
It was hormonal insanity. That was the only excuse she had for it. Her sex contracted tightly, begging for him.
“I’m so hard for you,” he rasped.
As if she couldn’t tell. The bulge behind the zipper of his jeans was like concrete.
She kissed him frantically.
He came back at her like an explosion.
His fingers kneaded her ass, pushing her firm against his pelvis. When she slipped her tongue into his mouth, he slid his hand underneath her pajama top to lightly pinch an erect nipple.
Gideon kissed her back, his mouth matching her ferocity. Caitlyn wrapped her legs around his waist and clung on for dear life. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth, feeling as if he could never be sated no matter how long he drank from her.
He wanted to cling to this moment forever, hold on with both hands.
That thought jolted him. He didn’t have two hands to grab on to happily-ever-after with. Just the one. And he suddenly felt inadequate beyond words.
Caitlyn must have sensed the shift in him because she pulled back, stared into his eyes. “Gideon? Are you okay?”
“Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Swallowing against his conflicting desires, he lowered his eyelids to half-mast, stepped away. “I should get back to work.”
“No,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“I liked what we were doing. I want more.”
“You were the one who made the no sex rule.”
“Rules are made to be broken.”
“I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret later.”
“Who says I’ll regret it.”
“You’re still recuperating.”
“We could be really careful.” She looked at him hopefully.
He groaned and, unable to stop himself, kissed her again.
Her lips tasted of springtime. Like Easter eggs and chocolate bunnies. Sweet and full of hope. She made him hope, and hope was a dangerous thing.
She reached up to thread her hand around his hair, pull his head down lower, deepen the kiss. Her sassy little tongue pushed against his teeth, demanding more, seeking entry.
Damn him, he was weak. With a groan, he parted his lips.
Her delicious tongue slipped inside him. Her grip tightened around him.
In that moment, he felt whole again, and it was a seductive sensation. He slid his right arm around her waist, tugged her as close to him as he could get her.
Her body wriggled against his.
Gideon’s cock throbbed, ached, hungered.
The scent of her hair—which smelled like flowers—invaded his nostrils. He took a deep breath, breathing in her fragrance, inhaling her taste. This woman, this woman. He could find no words to describe the level of pleasure she brought him.
Her hair trailed over his cheek, coiling like silk against his skin. Her fingers moved over his spine, exploring, seeking.
He shuddered against her, moved his mouth away, but still held her close. “Caitlyn, no,” he murmured.
“Please, Giddy, please,” she said, calling him by the silly nickname she’d give him eons ago. Giddy.
An image flashed in his mind. One of the times they’d made love. They’d been in her bedroom when her father had been away on a business trip. She was buck naked, straddling his body. His cowboy hat perched atop her head, her pert breasts poking proudly in the air, a sly smile on her face. Boldly—which in their lovemaking up to that point hadn’t been like her—she’d eased herself down on his pulsating cock, lifted the cowboy hat off her head, and swatted his thighs with it. “Giddy up, Gideon.”
After that, whenever she was feeling particularly sassy, she called him Giddy. It had become their code word for I want to make love.
It broke his heart a little, that memory. As did all the memories he had of her. When he looked at Caitlyn, he thought about their past, and thinking about their past made him take stock of everything he’d lost, all the things he could not give her.
Firmly, he put her away from him. “No, Caitlyn, not now. Not today.”
She looked hurt. Reached up to trace her fingers over her lips.
He clenched his jaw, hardened his heart. She might be hungry for sex. She might think she really wanted this, but when he took her, he wanted there to be absolutely no regrets.
“I want it to be right,” he said. That much was true. What he didn’t tell her was that he feared it would never be right. He was too battle-scarred for her. She needed someone who came from her same insular world. Who lived in her small-town cocoon, blissfully unaware of the dangers that lurked beyond the city limits of Twilight.
“When?” she asked, calling him on it.
“I don’t know.”
“Is it me?” She raised a hand to her throat. “I know I don’t have the body I used to have. I’m a mom now and things change, stretch, head south.”
“God no,” he said, upset that he’d caused her to doubt her femininity. “You are so beautiful. More beautiful than ever.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“I’m just not ready.”
Her gaze went to his artificial arm. “You haven’t been with a woman since . . .”
“Yes, I have, but it didn’t mean anything.”
“You’re saying I mean something to you?”
Didn’t she understand that she meant everything to him? But he wasn’t about to tell her that. He couldn’t bear to lay his tattered heart on the line only to have it mangled again. He couldn’t tell her that he feared he was still in love with her. He didn’t trust himself, much less her.
“I’m saying the timing is off. We’ve got a lot of things to deal with before we can even decide if this is what either of us really wants.”
She laughed then, a high, brittle sound. “Do you hear what you’re saying? For once you’re the cautious one and I’m the reckless one. You’re holding back and I want to dive headlong into this thing with you.”
“That’s the problem, Tulip. We can’t be diving into anything.”
“Because of Danny.” She nodded.
“Not just that.”
“What else?”
“You still have no idea who I am.”
She moistened her lips, and this time, she was the one who took the step back. He could see from the expression in her eyes that it was something she hadn’t considered. She was still stuck in the dream of their past, still seventeen, praying for her lover’s return. And now that he was here, she was trying to fulfill the fantasy, but he knew it was all a sweet, impossible dream. He knew if she ever saw the monster he kept buried deep inside her, the monster that was capable of killing men without hesitation, she would turn away from him.
He couldn’t risk letting down his mask, and if he couldn’t let down his mask, he couldn’t be with her. His relationship with Moira might have been casual, but at least Moira saw him for who he was, not for something she believed him to be.
He ducked his head, turned away, heard the sound of her high, rapid breathing, and knew that he’d hurt her, but also knew it was for the best.
Chapter Fifteen
Traditional meaning of asphodel—regret.
“Let’s take Danny fishing,” Gideon suggested on Saturday after the bathroom incident.
For the most part, they’d avoided each other. For the last three days, Caitlyn had gone over to supervise the progress on the victory garden since Patsy adamantly refused to let her back into the flower shop, citi
ng that she needed two good hands to fill customers, orders, but it took only a sharp pair of eyes and a firm opinion to tell the volunteers what she wanted done.
Gideon had stayed to the guest bedroom when he wasn’t playing with Danny or refurbishing the carousel. His rejection had hurt her more than she let on, and she still couldn’t figure out what she’d done wrong. Not only that, but she was more sexually frustrated than she’d ever been in her life, with no outlet for it. Every time she looked at him she felt a mix of desire, confusion, and anger. Yes. She was mad, at him for turning her down, at herself for begging.
She would be getting her stitches out on Monday and the only thing that kept her from asking him to move out was the bond he was forging with his son. Danny was quickly coming around, and the first thing he said when he walked into the kitchen each day after school was “Where’s Gideon?”
They ended up at an out-of-the way fishing spot where the locals went to escape the tourists. Most of the trees were in full bloom. Red buds and dogwood. Mimosas and oak. The sun shone warm, but the air was still cool. In the field beside the river, a carpet of yellow asphodel with their star-shaped blooms grew in profusion with bluebonnets and Indian blankets.
They carried an Igloo cooler stuffed with sandwiches and cold drinks. Caitlyn’s arm still throbbed if she held it down for too long, but she was on the mend.
Danny was excited, talking a mile a minute and running ahead of them to the water’s edge. Even though she’d required him to wear a life jacket, she still cautioned him not to get too close.
Gideon put a hand on her shoulder. “Lighten up, Mother Hen. Let him be a little boy.”
Caitlyn bit down on her bottom lip. While it had been a relief to have Gideon around to help her get Danny off to school, cook his meals, and put him to bed at night, there had also been a bit of head butting over the past few days, especially after what had happened—or ultimately didn’t happen—in the bathroom. Gideon thought she was overprotective, and maybe she was, but Danny was her only child. And she was vigilant by nature.
“Part of your job as a parent is to let him explore his world. Give him confidence to stand on his own two feet.”
“So now you’re telling me what my job is?” Yes, she was being testy. She knew it, but she just couldn’t seem to curtail her temper. Which wasn’t like her at all, and that only made her more irritable. Was sexual frustration behind it all?
Gideon carried two rods and reels in his right hand. The bait bucket was grasped in his artificial hand. Caitlyn carried the cooler. Once they reached Danny at the water, Gideon put down the poles and went back to the van for the camp chairs.
That’s when Caitlyn looked over and saw the Lincoln parked near a thicket of reeds just off the boat ramp. Her father sat with a hat on his head, a cane pole in his hand. She hadn’t seen him since he’d come to the hospital to see her. Her initial instinct was to gather up their stuff and get the hell out of there, because in spite of her having forgiven him, there was still eight years of awkward silence to deal with.
Gideon was on his way back with the camp chairs and he waved at her father. “Afternoon, Judge.”
Richard waved his hand.
Looked like they were all going to let bygones be bygones. That was good, right?
Gideon set up the camp chair and an umbrella for Caitlyn to sit under. Then he went to help Danny bait his hook and cast it into the water.
“Mind if I join you?”
Caitlyn looked up to see her father hovering beside her camp chair. “Have a seat,” she invited, even though she didn’t want to.
He set up his own camp chair and plunked down beside her. “I used to bring you fishing here.”
“I know.”
“It’s a nice tradition.”
“It is.”
The conversation fell off. Caitlyn shaded her eyes, concentrating on watching Gideon and Danny, not really sure what to say to her father. She could smell his Old Spice and Ben-Gay scent carried over on the breeze. Bees buzzed among the wildflowers growing along the boat ramp.
“How’s your arm?”
“It’s healing. I get the stitches out on Monday.”
“That’s good.”
More silence. It was an uneasy reunion.
Richard tilted his head in Danny’s direction. “He’s a good little fisherman.”
“Kevin used to bring him here a lot in the summers.”
“Kevin wasn’t so bad.”
Caitlyn whipped her head around to stare at him. “Did you just admit you were wrong about someone?”
“I’m trying here, daughter. Give me a break.”
She suppressed a smile. Danny must have gotten a bite because he was yanking back on his pole and hollering with excitement. Gideon put a hand on Danny’s shoulder and coached him on how to bring the fish in.
“Gideon’s not half bad either.”
“You keep that up and I’m going to faint on you,” Caitlyn said.
Richard shifted. “You want me to leave?”
“No, no, stay, I’ll stop being catty.”
“Thank you.”
Danny reeled in a palm-sized perch. He wriggled and jiggled with excitement. “Mom, Mom,” he said, running over with the fish dangling from his pole. “Look what I caught.”
His grin was as wide as Texas, showing off his two missing top teeth.
“My goodness,” she exclaimed. “What a fisherman you are.”
“Can we eat it for dinner tonight?”
“I’m not sure it’s big enough. Remember what the man at the bait store said when he sold Gideon the fishing licenses? You have to measure to see if it’s big enough to keep. Otherwise you have to—”
“Catch and release.” Danny sounded disappointed.
“The rule is just so that you don’t catch any that are too young.”
“Mom says it’s probably not big enough,” Danny called out to Gideon.
“Mother knows best,” Gideon said.
Danny stared at Richard. “Who are you?”
“You don’t know who I am?”
Danny shook his head. “I’ve seen you around town. Everyone says you’re cranky.”
“Oh, they do, do they?”
“Yep.”
“I’m your grandfather.”
Danny scowled. “No you’re not. My granddaddy lives in Michigan.”
“I’m your other grandfather.”
“How come you’re just now telling me?”
Richard looked to Caitlyn, shrugged, but didn’t answer Danny.
Anger simmered through Caitlyn and every muscle in her body tensed. She hadn’t wanted her father just to come right out and tell Danny who he was. She’d wanted to ease into it. Wanted to see if their relationship was even going to gel before bringing Danny into it at all. Things were slipping out of her control and she didn’t like that. Not at all. “Danny, go put the fish back in the river before it dies.”
Danny turned and walked back to the water.
“Why did you tell him that?” Caitlyn asked.
“Because I am his grandfather.”
“You should have asked me if you could tell him.”
“Hey, I stood aside for almost eight years and let you run the show.”
“The hell you did! You disowned me for getting pregnant, don’t try to put this all on me.”
Richard raised his hands. “Clearly, I’ve made you angry.”
“You think?” Caitlyn jumped up from the camp chair. “Gideon, I’m not feeling so well, I’d like to go home now.”
“That’s right, run away. It’s what you do best.”
Caitlyn whirled on him. “If I hadn’t run away, if I’d listened to you, that little boy would not be here.”
Richard gulped. “I was wrong. I’m admitting it. I want a chance to know my grandchild.”
“Well, this is not the way to go about it.”
“When did you plan on telling him who I was, Caitlyn? When he’s twenty?”
&nb
sp; “Maybe.”
Caitlyn felt a solid hand come down on her shoulder.
“Easy, Tulip,” Gideon soothed.
But Caitlyn was not in the mood to be soothed. She twisted away from him. “Don’t try to placate me.”
“Mom?”
Caitlyn turned to see Danny staring at her with those brown inquisitive eyes so much like his father’s. “Yes?”
“Is he really my grandfather?”
“I’m afraid he is.”
Danny stared at Richard. “How come you never came to see me before?”
“Ask your mother.”
“I can’t have this conversation right now,” Caitlyn said. She was too angry. If she kept talking, she was going to say something she would regret for the rest of her life. “Excuse me.”
She stalked off, headed for the van. Behind her, she heard Gideon say to Danny, “Why don’t you show your grandfather how well you can bait a hook?”
Blowing out her breath, Caitlyn paced back and forth behind the van. Maybe she should be more forgiving. In the hospital, hopped up on pain pills and anesthesia, she’d forgiven her father, but for him to just come right out and tell Danny who he was and act as if their estrangement was her fault, well, that was beyond the pale.
“Hey,” Gideon said softly.
She pushed tendrils of hair from her face, kept pacing. “He shouldn’t have told Danny. It was my place to decide when and where that news should be broken.”
“Granted, he should have consulted you.”
“Yes.” She pointed a finger. “Yes, he should have.”
“But he does have a right to see his grandchild.”
Caitlyn stared at Gideon and her mouth dropped open. “Excuse me? Are you taking his side? The side of the man who lied and connived to keep us apart?”
“He seems to regret it. He’s getting old.”
“Yes, right, so that makes it cool. What did you think when J. Foster suddenly turned all maudlin on you?”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“The hell it’s not.”
“He wants a relationship with Danny.”
“I don’t give a damn.” The pacing was doing nothing to calm her anger.
“It’s our son who’s going to suffer from not knowing his grandfather. This isn’t just about you.”