by Regina Kyle
“I repeat—” Ivy pulled her shirt on with short, jerky movements “—do you not know how to knock?”
“I did knock. You two were so lost in the throes of passion you didn’t hear me.”
Gabe went into his take-no-prisoners prosecutor mode, his steely eyes focused on Cade and his hands clenched into fists. Cade braced himself for the interrogation.
“How long have you been screwing her? Since you’ve been living here? Before?”
“Hey.” Cade put a protective arm around Ivy. “That’s your sister you’re talking about.”
“I know.” If possible, Gabe’s eyes grew even colder. His mouth stretched into a hard, thin line across his face. “Do you?”
He turned his attention to Ivy. “Do you know this guy goes through women like tissues? Is that what you want? To be another notch in his tissue box?”
“That’s enough.” Cade stood and faced off with his friend. “I’m not doing this here. Not in front of Ivy.”
“Fine.” Gabe stuffed his clenched fists into his pockets. “You. Me. The Half Pint. Thirty minutes.”
He turned on his heel, the slam of the door echoing behind him as he stormed out of the house.
13
IT WAS MORE like forty minutes later by the time Cade had helped Ivy clean up things and convinced her that her brother wouldn’t kill him—even though he wasn’t too sure about that himself. Gabe sat alone at one end of the bar, an almost empty glass in front of him, his scowl keeping the other patrons at bay.
Cade hauled himself up onto a stool and waved the bartender over. “Ghost Island Double IPA for me. And another of whatever my friend’s having.”
“Friends don’t fuck family.” Gabe sucked down the rest of his drink and slammed the empty glass on the bar top.
The bartender snatched it up and sidled away, shooting Cade a look that said, “Not cool, dude. Not. Cool.”
Great. Two against one.
“Stop saying that,” Cade hissed through gritted teeth when the bartender was out of earshot. “That’s not what I’m doing with your sister.”
“You expect me to believe you haven’t had sex with her?” Gabe’s voice dripped with disdain. “What I saw seemed pretty intimate to me.”
“I didn’t say that. But we’re not just having sex.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Damned if he knew.
The bartender returned with their drinks before Cade could form an answer. He took a long pull of the IPA, praying for some Dutch courage. Or divine inspiration.
“What it means,” he said finally, “is that Ivy’s different from the other women I’ve dated.”
“My point exactly, asshole.” Gabe swirled the amber liquid in his glass then sipped. “You can’t love her then leave her like you do with all the rest.”
“I’m not the one doing the leaving.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your sister’s bags are packed the minute your father doesn’t need her anymore.”
“And you want her to stay in Stockton?”
Leave it to Gabe to get right to the heart of the matter. Did he want her to stay? Would she even consider it if he asked? And if she said yes, would she eventually come to resent him for making her give up her big-time career? The two people who were supposed to be the most important in his life had chosen their work over him. What if Ivy proved to be no better than his parents?
“Let me ask you something.” Cade shredded a bar napkin, stalling, fully aware he was venturing into dangerous territory. “When did you know with Devin?”
“Know what?”
“That she was the one.”
Gabe set down his glass ever so slowly. His words, when he spoke, were just as deliberate. “You think my sister might be the one?”
“Just answer the damn question.”
“It’s hard to say.” Gabe’s eyes clouded over and his mouth curled into a wistful smile. “But I think my heart knew that night I found Devin in Central Park, kicking the crap out of Fast Fingers Freddie. My head just took a little longer to get with the program.”
“Fast Fingers Freddie?” Cade almost choked on his IPA.
“I never told you that story?”
“I’d remember if you had.”
“Some other time.” Gabe took another sip from his glass. “I’m not here to discuss my love life. I’m here to find out what the hell the guy I thought was my best friend is doing messing around with my sister.”
“I told you. I’m not messing around with her.” Cade balled up the napkin bits and deposited them on the bar. “I like her.”
“I’ve seen what happens to the women you like.” Gabe eyeballed Cade over the rim of his glass. “A month, two tops, and you kick them to the curb.”
“In two months, Ivy will be long gone. Back to her high-fashion-photographer lifestyle. And I’ll be here, doing what I do best. Fighting fires. Rescuing cats.”
“Which leads me back to my earlier question. Do you want her to stay?”
Cade had ducked it once, but Gabe wasn’t letting him off the hook. “I wish it was that easy.”
“It can be.” Gabe drained his drink. The bartender grabbed a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black and moved in for a refill, but Gabe covered the glass with his hand and shook his head. “If you’re really serious about my sister and not just jerking her around.”
Cade slapped a palm on the bar. “How many times do I have to tell you, dammit? I’m not jerking Ivy around. I like having her in my life. She gets me. The real me. Not Cade Hardesty, good-time guy. Did I tell you she’s helping me study for the lieutenant exam? She thinks I’ve got a decent chance of passing, too. She’s the first woman who’s ever seen me as more than a pretty face and an easy lay.”
He paused to let the words sink in, to absorb their real meaning. This was more than friendship, more than sex. How much more, he wasn’t sure, but after a minute, his mouth was ready to voice what his heart was just beginning to realize. “I think I might be falling in love with her.”
“Shit.” Gabe leaned back on his stool and studied Cade. “You are serious.”
“As a heart attack.” Cade reached down to scratch under his cast. “Or a broken leg.”
“You know she’s had a thing for you like forever.”
“What?”
“Seriously, man. Were you blind, deaf and dumb in high school? She followed you around like a puppy dog.”
Cade grimaced and finished off his IPA. “I was dumb, that’s for sure.”
“What do you mean ‘was’?”
“Very funny.”
Gabe rested his elbows on the bar. “She’ll stay, if you ask her.”
“What if she says no?”
“What if she doesn’t?”
“Okay, then.” Cade rubbed the back of his neck. “What if she says yes and two or three or ten years down the line she realizes what a colossal idiot she was abandoning a glamorous career for a small-town firefighter?”
“What if she says yes and you live happily ever after?” Gabe clapped a hand on Cade’s shoulder. “Look, I can’t tell you what’s going to happen. But I can tell you this—my sister’s worth the risk. If you love her, or even think you might love her, and don’t do something about it, you’ll regret it.”
Cade understood risk. He risked his life every time he ran into a building burning. But risking his life was one thing. Risking his heart was another.
“So what’s it gonna be, pal?” Gabe asked. “Are you gonna man up and tell her how you feel, like you told me to do just a few months ago in this very bar? Or are you going to be a wimp and let her walk away?”
“Thanks for throwing my own words back in my face.”
“Anytime.” The hand on Cade’s shoulder tightened. “Now answer the question. Are you a man or a mouse?”
“I’m working on it.” Cade pulled out his wallet and threw down two tens on the bar. “But when I figure it out, I promise you’ll be the second to know.”
“Good.” Gabe added a bill to the pile. “Just promise me one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t hurt her. Because if you do, I’d have to hurt you. And I’d hate to mess up that pretty face.”
* * *
THE CLOCK ON the nightstand in the guest room, where she’d slept since Cade moved in, read 9:30 a.m. Well past her normal rising hour, but Ivy wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Not without any parties, proms or pets to photograph, the part-timer she’d hired covering the morning shift at the nursery and Cade wrapped around her like a second skin, one arm flung across her midriff, his legs entwined with hers.
It had been well past midnight when she felt the mattress dip and the heat of Cade’s body surround her. He’d muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “not a wimp” and proceeded to fall almost immediately asleep, no doubt thanks to the alcohol on his breath.
Typical. Boys bonding over brews. Better than her brother beating the crap out of her boyfriend.
If that’s what Cade was.
Neither one of them had felt the need to define their relationship, but would that change now that Gabe was in on their secret? It was only a matter of time before her parents found out. What was she going to tell them? That she and Cade were fuck buddies?
Ivy frowned as she pictured her stern Scandinavian father’s reaction to that news. If Cade thought Gabe had been angry...
She closed her eyes and inhaled the mix of soap and sweat and citrus, which had become as familiar to her as breathing, that was uniquely Cade. She wasn’t going to worry about the future, not when she had him warm and willing in her bed. Sometimes dreams did come true. And on those rare occasions when they did, she’d learned not to second-guess them.
Eyes still closed, she explored his sleeping form with her hands. Strong, broad shoulders. Thickly muscled back. She paused for a millisecond at the waistband of his boxers, then slipped her hands underneath to squeeze his beautifully biteable butt.
“Don’t stop there, sweetheart,” Cade growled into the nape of her neck. “The behind may be fine, but there’s a party going on in front.”
As if to prove his point, he tilted his hips so she could feel his hardening erection against her.
“So I see.” She moved her hands lower, cupping the globes of his ass and pulling him closer to her. “What do you propose we do about it?”
“That depends on how much time we have.”
“I don’t know. Is my brother going to barge in here again, or did you two reach some sort of détente last night?”
“Let’s just say we came to an understanding. He won’t be bothering us anymore.”
“Then it looks like we’ve got all day.”
“All day?” He lifted his head to look at her. “No mounds of mulch to move? No fiestas to photograph?”
“Not a one.” She stared back at him, a smile inching across her face. Hell’s bells, he was gorgeous, with his cornflower-blue eyes, plump, kissable lips and strong, masculine jaw, dotted with morning stubble. All hers, for the time being.
“Good.” He kissed her, quick and dirty with just a hint of tongue to stoke the fire building inside her. “Consider yourself chained to this bed.”
“Literally or figuratively?”
“Whichever you prefer.” He peppered her neck with little love bites.
“How will I eat?”
“I’ll feed you.”
He nibbled his way down to the top of her cleavage. “I intend to keep you fully occupied between the sheets.”
She caught her breath as his tongue stole deeper into the crevice between her breasts. Heat spread through her body like molten lava. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a sex fiend?”
“Yes.” He nudged aside the collar of her tank top so he could explore further. “But I’m not the one with my hands down someone’s pants.”
“Good point. They have to go.”
“Your hands?”
“Your pants.”
“I could get on board with that plan.” He raised his hips so she could slide off his boxers. Gloriously naked and fully erect, he threw off the covers and stretched out next to her, eyeing the tank top and panties she’d slept in. “You’re overdressed.”
“Easily fixed.” She reached for the hem of her top but froze when she heard the familiar strains of the Veronicas’ “Mother Mother” from her cell phone.
“Let it ring,” Cade moaned, putting his hands over hers and starting to pull off the top himself.
“Can’t.” She rolled out of his grasp and groped for the phone, which she’d left on the nightstand. “That’s my mom’s ringtone. She wouldn’t call unless it was an emergency. She’s the one who suggested I take the day off.”
That was putting it mildly. More like browbeat her into submission, even going so far as to coerce the part-timer into filling in.
“Your dad?” Cade asked, voicing her fears.
“Maybe.” Ivy found the phone and swiped the screen. “The doctors say he’s getting better every day, but...”
But what did they really know. What did anyone know? Life was unpredictable. Unexpected. Too short to be wasted. Wasn’t that why she was taking this gamble with Cade?
“Mom?” Ivy put the phone to her ear. “Is Dad—”
“He’s fine, topolina,” her mother interrupted. “But I have a problem.”
Outwardly, Ivy breathed a sigh of relief that her father was okay. Inside, she cringed at her mother’s nickname for her. She’d never been sweet or little, nor had she ever been remotely like a mouse. But some long-gone Italian great-aunt had pinned it on her at birth and it had stuck for her mother.
“Can it wait until tomorrow?” Ivy asked, sneaking a glance at Cade, sprawled on the bed like a big, beautiful tomcat, waiting to have his belly rubbed.
Or something else rubbed.
“Unfortunately, no.” Her mother’s unusually clipped voice brought Ivy back to the conversation at hand. “Today is the PTA annual summer carnival. It’s our biggest fund-raiser of the year.”
“Yes, I know.” Ivy bit back a smile. Her mother had retired from teaching at the local elementary school a few years ago to work with her husband at the nursery full-time, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still have a hand in every bake sale, raffle and pancake breakfast. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Nothing until about five minutes ago. We need someone to man the photo booth. That cretino Florian Rhodes called and canceled. Said he was double-booked.”
“I told you not to hire him.”
“I didn’t want to add to your workload. You can scold me later. Can you help me now?”
Ivy took one last, longing look at Cade. “Just tell me where and when.”
“The town green in half an hour.”
“Half an hour?” Ivy leaped up from the bed.
“As soon as you can get there will be fine.”
“Gee, thanks.” Ivy paced the room.
“I’m sorry, topolina.” Her mother had the decency to at least sound contrite. “I’m sure you were looking forward to your day off with Cade.”
“With Cade?” Ivy’s stomach plummeted and she froze midstride. Not even twenty-four hours. She was going to kill Gabe. How much had her big-mouthed twin told their parents?
“Well, he’s staying with you while he’s recovering, isn’t he? Maybe you two can come over for dinner tonight. I’ll make manicotti. It’s Cade’s favorite.”
“Uh, sure, Ma.” Ivy’s heart slowed from runaway freight train to leaping gazelle. There was no way her old-world mother, with her traditional family values, would be catering to Cade if she knew he was screwing her daughter six ways to Sunday. “I’d better say goodbye if I’m going to make it on time. See you soon.”
She ended the call and turned to see Cade propped up on his elbows, still naked as the day he was born. Naked and magnificent, all smooth, golden skin and lean muscle.
Damn, this was going to
be difficult.
He rolled to his back, crossing his corded arms behind his head. “I guess I’m not chaining you to the bed, literally or figuratively.”
“Blame Florian Rhodes.”
“Who’s he?” Cade asked.
She couldn’t look at him. She just couldn’t. Not if she had any hope of getting out the door anytime soon. She shifted her gaze to a painting above the bed. A beach scene. Water. Sand. Sky. Much better.
Not.
“He’s the photographer who stood up the PTA.”
“And you’re stepping in?”
“It’s the summer carnival. Their biggest fund-raiser of the year,” she said, parroting her mother. “I couldn’t say no.”
“Of course you couldn’t.” He sat up and grabbed a shirt off the back of the chair next to the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed.” He pulled the shirt on over his head.
“Why?”
“I’m coming with you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“I’m running the photo booth all day. You’ll be bored.”
“I doubt it.” He grabbed the pair of shorts hanging over the arm of the chair. “But if I am, so what? I’ll be bored here. Alone. I might as well be bored at the carnival with you.”
“Okay, but I’m putting you to work.” She watched him slide on the shorts and reach for his walking brace. “Light duty.”
“Fine by me, boss.” He fastened the brace, stood and hobbled over to her. The liquid heat she’d felt earlier started to bubble inside her again when he took her in his arms and rested his forehead on hers. “As long as you don’t have anything against fraternization between coworkers.”
14
“STEP RIGHT UP, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen of all ages.” Cade sat on a stool at the entrance of the red-and-white striped tent that served as the photo booth, wearing a straw bowler he’d plucked from the trunk of costumes in the corner and twirling a prop cane like he was a carnival barker. “Have your picture taken with a real live hero.”