by Nicole Helm
She did not like the little flip in her stomach one bit. That little flip, a hop of hope, a burst of excitement, that was the kind of thing that was going to get her in to trouble if she trusted it too much.
“Then, I guess I’m out of luck.” She pulled her keys out of her pocket and jangled them from her fingers. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Though she could just barely make out his form in the dark, she could tell he hopped off the fence and advanced on her. The kind of advance she should retreat from, but she was not a woman who believed in retreat.
Especially if standing her ground meant a kiss. Which it did. His mouth on hers, soft and warm against the cool of the evening. Strong arms around her, capable when they wanted to be. Sturdy.
Quite a dangerous illusion.
“You know, if you want to think of me tonight while you’re drifting off to sleep,” he said against her mouth, bodies still pressed together, “I wouldn’t be offended.”
“Ha.” Only she was already getting a little squirmy thinking of him and the things he’d done to make her feel good. Really, really good. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dan.”
“Yes, ma’am.” After a pause he released her and she pulled her hat back down after the kiss had knocked it precariously up.
“Come by early tomorrow. I’ll make you breakfast again.”
She stopped her backward retreat, that annoying flip taking a few extra turns this time. “You don’t have to feed me.”
“Maybe I’m not one hundred percent innocent in my motivations,” he said, and, oh hey, there were all those squirmy feelings again.
Worse, there were other feelings. Those things he made her want that she’d spent so much of her adult life trying not to ever consider. Someone to take care of something so she didn’t have to. Someone to care.
But he didn’t care. Not in that way. This was about attraction and sex and maybe some mutual fondness, but not care. “You know, there are plenty of women in town who’d sleep with you.” She meant it as a flip comment, a reminder that sex was all this had been.
It didn’t even take the whole sentence getting out of her mouth for her to realize it didn’t sound flip. It sounded nasty and mean, and he didn’t deserve that.
“I thought I’d been clear. I’m well aware that I could talk quite a few women into my bed, but I choose to talk you into it,” he said in that tone that oozed ease, but underneath…underneath something dangerous and cutting was hiding.
She should apologize or make light or something other than dig herself deeper, so of course she went ahead and dug herself deeper. “You didn’t talk me into it. I showed up at your doorstep.”
“Yeah, you really forced my hand.” She could barely make out the shadow of him advancing on her, and again there was her mind telling her to retreat and stubbornness telling her to stand her ground.
It wasn’t a shock which one won, and it wasn’t a shock that her body wasn’t braced for a blow—no, her traitorous body was leaning in for another kiss. Another moment of heat and power and forgetting all the ways she was failing.
But he didn’t kiss her. He gave her ponytail a tug, much like he had last night when she’d been tongue-tied. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not. On the surface, it seemed like some strange power play, but her lady bits…well, they seemed to like the little tug just fine.
“I can’t promise you much, Ms. Shaw,” he fake drawled, “but I will promise you this.” His tone grew serious, his palm cradling her cheek. She had to repeatedly remind herself not to snuggle in like a cat desperate for a pet.
He was so quiet for so long, his hand resting against her face, her heart absorbing that painful, bittersweet ache she refused to give name to. She couldn’t wait any longer for him to finish. “You promise me what?” It shouldn’t matter. She didn’t believe in promises. At least not from the likes of him. Okay, anyone.
“I promise that I won’t make your life any harder than it already is. I’m not going to add to your load, Mel. I will do everything in my power to make sure of it.”
Her heart was beating harder, her chest tighter, making it difficult to take a full breath. You don’t believe in promises. You don’t believe in promises.
But no matter how much she repeated that to herself, his promise wrapped around her heart and squeezed, painful and sweet at the same time. She had to clear her throat before she could speak, had to blink a few times to make sure the burning in her eyes was just the air…or something.
“Thank you,” she said—a whisper, but in the quiet of the mountain valley evening, the whisper held weight.
His thumb brushed across her cheekbone, then his lips brushed against hers, so light and quick she didn’t even have a chance to reciprocate.
Which was good. She was way too shaky for reciprocation to be a good idea. “Good night, Dan. I’ll…be by…early.”
She couldn’t see his mouth in the dark, but she could only figure he had on one of those cocky-ass grins she wanted to equally smack and kiss off his face.
“Night, Cowgirl.”
“Good night.” This time she forced herself to her truck, no backing away, no dawdling. She needed to get home, not just to check on things, but to distance herself from all this…feeling. Danger.
Who knew danger could feel so good? Make her feel alive and giddy. It was better than anything.
Is that how Caleb feels when he’s drunk?
Well, good-bye giddy, hello responsibility. Would Caleb be sober today? Apologetic? Pretend nothing had happened?
She drove home along dark streets, the only interruption her headlights cutting through the thick black of night. The dread at going home wasn’t new. It was hard not to dread all the things she had to deal with, especially in those early days of Dad’s paralysis.
What was new was the wishing she was somewhere else. Wishing she’d stayed with Dan. That was new and not particularly comforting. Was that what Mom had felt before she’d left? Wishing for anything but home?
Mel pulled into the garage shed and took a deep breath. She had worked her ass off for years. She was not her mother, no matter how many times she entertained thoughts that might be similar.
Mel climbed out of her truck. She would not be shaken by any choices she made, because she had made them with her eyes wide open. If Dan made her feel, well, she wasn’t stupid enough to think that might last.
The house was dark, and Mel didn’t know what that could mean. If she should be happy or scared. What would be waiting for her?
You do not have to be responsible for it all. Caleb is supposed to be stepping up.
But Caleb had been drinking last night, drowning whatever pain he wouldn’t share, and she didn’t know how to face that without crumbling.
She stepped into the mudroom, the empty boot mat all but mocking her. She should know better than to even look at this point. She pulled off her own boots, carefully placed them upright with room for the other pair of boots that should be there.
She stepped into the kitchen and stood there in the darkness, trying to decide what to do. She should check on Caleb, on Dad, but she couldn’t force herself to do either of those things.
What she didn’t have a choice in was making sure Dad had a part-time nurse. No one had been happy when she’d attempted to take on that role back in the beginning.
The floorboard creaked, and Caleb appeared. “Where have you been?”
She straightened, looking him directly in the eye. If he’d been drinking, he hadn’t drank very much. “None of your business.”
“Look, I’m sorry about last night, but—”
“No buts. I am not interested in your buts. Did you do any work to get Fiona to come back or find a new nurse?”
“No, I—”
“Then get out of my way, because I have things to do.” She wasn’t ready to forgive Caleb
yet. She wasn’t ready to give him that chance, and she wasn’t ready to face that him drinking as much as he had last night meant…
Yeah, she couldn’t stand to think about what it meant right now.
* * *
Dan was a man who thrived on routine, and luckily he’d forced himself into one the past few days. It made a remarkable difference on his attitude. Probably having a plan in place helped too.
Then there was Mel in his bed. Okay, possibly that had the most to do with his newfound good mood that even texts from Scott about still being “this close” to tryout possibilities couldn’t dim.
Especially with the fact that the sun was rising over the mountain, he’d gotten a hell of a run in, and Mel Shaw was driving up the gravel a full thirty minutes earlier than usual.
Oh, there was a lot he could do with those thirty minutes.
First, Mystery needed to be watered and fed. It was a chore Dan would gladly speed through.
By the time Mel made it up to the top of the hill, he had almost filled and moved all the water barrels and added a bit of hay to the pile. He felt like a right and proper rancher, all things considered, even in the face of Mel’s infinitely ranchier appearance.
Flannel shirt, heavy-duty work pants, boots, but he could clearly picture everything that was beneath now, and he looked forward to undoing all those buttons, shedding all those layers she guarded herself with.
“Perfect timing. I was about to go take a shower. You can join me.” He flashed her a grin as he moved the last barrel of water over to where she stood on the other side of the fence. He definitely didn’t miss how her eyes dropped to his arms as he hefted the weight of the full barrel.
When she looked up at him, caught in her shameless appreciation of his muscles, her cheeks tinged pink.
“I already took a shower, Dan,” she said firmly, though he was pretty sure her mouth had curved at the corners just a teeny bit.
“Are there laws against two showers in a day? Some kind of drought? Because I’m pretty sure sharing means—”
She clapped her hand over his mouth, and he grinned against it. Too bad there was a fence between them, because he was pretty sure if there wasn’t—
“You need a hose so you don’t have to heft those barrels around.” She dropped her hand from his mouth and pointed to the barrel of water he’d just moved. “Add it to your to-acquire list.”
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t enjoy the show.”
“Ugh.” But now she really was smiling, regardless of how hard she tried to press her lips together.
Something about that, that happiness that he put there filled him with a kind of…he couldn’t even put words to it. His chest felt full and tight and like if he didn’t act, it would all burst beyond any control he had in this strange place.
So he did the only thing he could think of. He hopped the fence and did the first thing that came to mind.
Tackled her to the ground.
She pushed at his chest, but she was laughing. “Lord, you really do have the mountain crazies.”
“If that’s what I have, it’s not half bad.”
She shook her head, but there was a loosening in her muscles, not quite pushing against his chest as hard. The crisp grass under his palms, the coolness at his knees from where they pressed in the ground, even the warmth of the morning sun on his back all faded away as he looked down at her…and that overflowing-chest feeling was back. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t feel right, and underneath it was a kind of excitement, like being in one of those playoff games.
The pressure. The thrill. Knowing it mattered.
You screwing it up.
Something deflated, went cold, and Mel was just staring at him, underneath him, and this was stupid. Thinking about anything to do with hockey was stupid when Mel Shaw was on the ground beneath him.
He dipped his head lower to press his mouth to hers and forget all that other junk, but she spoke first.
“Your phone is ringing,” she said quietly, her eyes steady on his, searching for something—he wished he knew what. He wished this not-knowing crap would go away already.
Or maybe he really didn’t want to know.
But his phone was ringing in his back pocket, a strange digital loop in the quiet of the mountain valley. “I suppose it is.”
“You should answer it. What if it’s about…hockey things?”
He still didn’t know what that searching thing was about, but he wondered if it had anything to do with the way she’d told him he didn’t belong here all those days ago.
Still, she was right. It could be about hockey, and…he didn’t want to think too hard about belonging here and what Mel might think of that. What he might think of that. So he rolled off her and answered.
“Sharpe.”
“Daniel.”
He immediately sat a little straighter, the feminine voice crackling through his crappy service shocking the hell out of him. “Mom. Hey, is everything all right?”
There was a pause, and dread curled in his stomach. Something must be wrong. Mom almost never called him.
“Everything is fine. I just hadn’t heard from you.”
“Oh, well, I emailed you when I got here.”
“Yes, but…” Another pause. The pauses that had begun in those weeks after she’d told him her and Dad were getting a divorce. Silences and watching and pauses, always so careful with what she said to him.
Because otherwise he might break again.
Because they were a reminder of all the ways he hadn’t handled anything, had caused his mother too much stress to stay, he couldn’t stand the pauses, the silences. To the point where they almost never talked. When he’d been a kid, it had been letters. Now, it was emails and the occasional text.
Calls on holidays only.
But if everything was okay, he didn’t understand the reason for this call. “My service isn’t the best, maybe we can—”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Worried about me?” Dan glanced at Mel as she got to her feet, brushing off her pants, her back to him. “Why?”
“I thought for sure you’d be home by now.”
“I told you this was for the summer.” Dan got to his feet, trying to decipher the tension in Mel’s shoulders.
“I know, but…” He wanted to beat his head against the impenetrable wall of those pauses. Her carefulness with him. Not thirty years between then and now, between acting out as a kindergartner and being a thirty-five-year-old man, had changed the way she approached him.
He watched Mel as she strode away.
What was that about?
“Surely you’re tired of that place. I know you didn’t agree with me that it was tossing money away, but you see that now. Surely.”
Dan tried to make sense of what Mom was saying. She hadn’t thought he’d…last this long? Figured he’d screw this up along with everything else? Well, yeah, why should he be surprised? He wasn’t the only one who thought hockey was about all he was good at, and he’d never given anyone any reason to believe otherwise.
But, good God, he should be beyond caring if his mommy had any faith in him.
“Actually, I think…” His glance landed on Mel hefting the giant toolbox out of the back of her truck. Mountains in the background, her hat pulled low, and that weird chest-expanding feeling again. “I think this is a good place to be. To build.”
Crackling silence. A sigh. More silence. Dan closed his eyes and tried to wait it out, tried to find a way to be a better son. Give her whatever it is she was always quietly wanting from him, to prove she hadn’t broken him irrevocably.
But he didn’t have it in him. Not the patience or maybe not even the desire. He didn’t know, didn’t want to know. He wasn’t broken. He was just…a person. “I have to go, Mom. But if you have any more q
uestions or financial concerns, email me. I’ve got my Internet set up and everything.”
“Of course.”
An agreement that was anything but.
“Bye, Mom,” he said, because he honestly didn’t know what else to give her.
“Good-bye, Daniel. I…” Pause. Pause. Pause. Silence. “Well, take care of yourself.”
“You too, Mom.” Though it gave him a lump in his gut to do it, he hit End and shoved his phone back in his pocket.
He took a minute to watch Mel. She was busying herself with things. He had no idea what things. He had no idea…
He needed to shove it out of his brain. There were things he did have ideas about. Llamas. Talking Mel back into his bed.
He forced himself to leisurely stroll to where she stood next to his porch. “Sorry about that interruption.”
She shrugged. “Nothing to apologize for. I was thinking we could open up those stalls like we talked about, and then head to town this afternoon to get you a hose.”
“I thought I was going to make you breakfast.” He reached out for her braid, twirled a loose end around his finger.
But she didn’t relax. Didn’t loosen. She was coiled tight, no give in her. He couldn’t for the life of him figure that out.
“I’m not all that hungry,” she said, hefting her toolbox onto his porch.
“Does this have something to do with…” He trailed off because he felt strange about bringing up her outburst about her mother leaving, and because she looked uncomfortable, and he just wanted that moment in the grass again, when he’d been about to kiss her and that was all that mattered.
“She was checking up on you.”
“Um, yeah. She thought I’d be back by now, I guess. She never did much like this place.” Or believe he could handle anything. Because you haven’t.
That tension in her shoulders drew tighter, till she looked like a stick that had taken too many slap shots and was about to break. “Your mother lived here?”
“Well, yeah. She got out as soon as she could, from my understanding, but she grew up right here.” He gestured toward the house, not quite sure why they were talking about his mother’s past.