Taming the Moguls

by Christy Hayes

  “I am,” she said. “Known for my cooking, but you don’t have to worry. He’s been pretty…down. I think he’s missing you a lot.”

  “He has a funny way of showing it.”

  Erica twisted the doorknob to Lyle’s cabin, opening the door. “I’m just going to leave this in the refrigerator.”

  Shiloh should have known they didn’t lock the door. Lyle’s fancy computer sat on the table where anyone could stumble in and take it. She looked around at the beige walls and stone fireplace. “This place has come a long way.”

  “They did a good job fixing it up. Lyle and Dodge worked on it for months. I kind of miss the noise. Sometimes it’s too quiet.”

  Shiloh peeked her head into the kitchen and then walked to a cased opening. “Are these the bedrooms?”

  “Now they are. Kevin sleeps on an air mattress in Lyle’s office.”

  Shiloh swung open the door and stared at the mattress topped with piles of blankets. That was where he chose to sleep instead of with her in her parents’ home? Unbelievable. “Cozy.”

  “Hey.” Lyle came in the front door holding Shiloh’s shoe. He walked straight to Erica and planted a loud kiss on her lips. “I found this in the driveway. Are you missing a shoe?”

  Erica pointed over her shoulder at Shiloh.

  “It’s mine.” When he turned around and lifted his brows, Shiloh said, “Where’s your idiot brother?”

  “I don’t know. He’s your idiot husband.”

  “Don’t I know it?” She walked over and yanked the shoe from him. “You’re housing him, she’s feeding him, and your mother’s probably babying him. No wonder he doesn’t want me back.”

  “You think he doesn’t want you back?” Lyle asked.

  “He’s sure not acting like he does.” She leaned against the wall and eased her shoes onto her feet. “I’m sick of waiting for him to figure things out. When you see him, tell him I’m going back to Denver to get my stuff. When I come back, he’d better have a plan. Not some half-baked idea, not some plea to give him more time, but an actual plan.”

  “I’ve got a plan,” Kevin said from the doorway.

  Shiloh turned and stared at her husband. She hadn’t seen him since she’d refused to open her bedroom window. In the daylight, with the sun at his back, she saw the muscle definition through his long-sleeved T-shirt and the defined look of his jaw. She’d never tired of looking at him, admiring his green eyes and disheveled dark hair and the way he captured all the energy from a room just by stepping inside. He’d been an angry teen when they’d met, so unsure of his life in Hailey after the death of his father. He appeared the same to her standing with his hands in his pockets and his teeth clenched together.

  “Well, Halleluiah,” she said. “It’s about time.”

  He stepped inside and closed the door. When he reached for her hand, she let him take it. He disarmed her by turning it over and kissing her palm. That one small brush of his lips had her temper evaporating like mist in the wind. “Good grief, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  An unexpected lump formed in her throat as he stared at her as if looking into her soul. When was the last time he’d kissed her like that or really looked at her? She couldn’t recall.

  “I’ve got a plan for us, Shi. But I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

  Chapter 31

  “We’ll let you two talk.” Lyle grabbed Erica’s hand and dragged her outside, shutting the door. “Sorry about that.”

  “No, I wanted to leave.” She walked toward the river. “They need to clear the air.”

  “No kidding. I’ve been trying to get him to talk to her since he’s been here. He’s so stubborn.”

  “Just like his brother,” Erica said.

  Lyle stopped walking and faced her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean you’re stubbornly refusing to let me tell anyone about our engagement.”

  “I thought you were okay with keeping it quiet?”

  “I was, but it’s killing me. I feel like I’m lying to Jack whenever he calls.”

  “I don’t want you to lie to your brother, but keeping something from him is technically not lying.”

  “That doesn’t help my conscience.” She stepped onto the rocks and made her way across the river. “Pretty soon we won’t to be able to use these rocks.” She looked at the sky. “They’re forecasting snow tonight. We probably should have taken your truck.”

  “I don’t mind getting snowed in.” When she gave him a saucy smile, he patted her butt. “You’ve got more food than I do.”

  “Is that all I’ve got? Lyle!” she screamed when he tackled her onto the bank. “You’re the idiot brother!”

  “Hey.” He kissed her neck and inhaled her scent. No smell had ever made him feel more alive and more at home. “Do you want me to tell you what you’ve got besides food?”

  “I want you to get off of me.”

  “You’ve got this fantastic way of snarling that’s sexy and pouty at the same time.” He kissed the side of her lips, and she stopped squirming. Her hands went limp where he’d captured them against his chest. “You’ve got skin that’s as soft and milky and kissable as silk.” She made a noise that had his heart rate skipping. “And all that fabulous skin is wrapped around a body that drives me to distraction every second of every day. I can hardly concentrate on work or driving or anything from thinking about you.”

  “You make it hard to stay mad when you say stuff like that.”

  “I don’t want to make you mad.” He loosened his grip on her hands. “If you want to tell your brother and Olivia, we can.”

  “No.” She brushed her fingers along his jaw. “You wanted to wait. We’ll wait.”

  Lyle dropped his forehead to hers. “I want to get you a ring. I can’t afford what I want to get right now. When I turn in the book, I’ll have enough.”

  “Lyle, I don’t want you to spend so much money on a ring. That’s silly. I’m not marrying you for a ring.”

  “I know.” He loved her that much more for knowing it. “But here’s the thing. I’m only doing this once. Marriage is forever in my book. When we have tough times, we work through them. When we fight, we make up. When life throws us lemons, we make lemonade—and knowing you, it’ll be the best lemonade in the world. I want to get you a ring that shows you and the world how much I love you, so you’ll never question it.”

  Big willowy drops threatened to leak out of the corners of her eyes. “I can’t believe you’re telling me this while I’m laying on the cold, hard ground.”

  “I’m sorry.” He wedged himself off and hopped up, offering her a hand. She took it, and he pulled her into his chest. “That better?”

  She threw her arms around his neck, nearly shoving him into the freezing river. “You say the most amazing things. You take everything that’s in my heart, and it somehow comes right out of your mouth. It’s like getting a gift whenever you say stuff like that.”

  “It’s what I feel.”

  “It’s what I feel, too. I love you so much and in so many ways. If I could tell you with words, I would.”

  “You tell me in other ways—ways I can’t.” He pulled back so he could look into her eyes. He wanted her to know how much he appreciated the ways she fed his soul. “You show me you love me every time you make me a meal, every time you sing a song and let me listen.” She blushed and hung her head. If only he could make her see herself as he saw her: a strong, beautiful artist with a heart of gold. “Every time you smile at me, I see the love in your eyes. That’s as good as words.”

  “I’m going to do my best to make you happy.” She grabbed his forearms and jumped like a firecracker about to explode. “I’m about to burst with it.”

  “That makes two of us.” His lips met hers, and the feel of them—cold, soft, inviting—had him guiding her backward toward her house. “You’re freezing.”

  “So are you,” she said, barely breaking contact to speak. “I’ll bet you’re
starving.”

  “For several things.”

  She stopped, and he bumped into her chest. “I took the soup to your cabin because I didn’t know when you’d be home.”

  “See,” he said, “that shows you love me right there.”

  She smiled up at him. “It also says you don’t have dinner.”

  He looked over his shoulder at the cabin. Neither Kevin nor Shiloh had come out. “We could always go back for it.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “That seems kind of rude.”

  “I’m pretty hungry.” She slapped his arm playfully. “Well, I am. What kind of soup?”

  “That Mexican six bean you like.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he tugged her arm. “We’re going back.”

  “Lyle, we—”

  A scream bellowed out of the cabin. Shiloh’s scream. Lyle and Erica stopped in their tracks. “On second thought, a sandwich sounds pretty good.”

  Erica nodded, grabbed his elbow, and turned him around. “You’re in luck. I make a pretty good sandwich.”

  Chapter 32

  Gretchen was ready to crawl out of her skin as Tommy maneuvered the truck along the narrow road over snow piled several feet high. If she had her phone or her computer, she could call home or they could call for help. How long would they be stuck in the middle of nowhere, alone, with everything from the past between them?

  “How are we going to get inside the cabin?” she asked.

  His jaw clenched, and he sat forward, squinting at the road. It was hard to tell where the road sat under all the snow. “He has a hide-a-key…somewhere.”

  “Somewhere?” She choked. “You don’t know where? And we’re supposed to find it when everything is covered in snow?”

  He hit the brakes and spared her one long glare before turning his head forward. The next time he stopped was in front of a log cabin with a covered porch and a mountain of firewood next to the door. “This is it.” He shut off the truck. When he reached over to open the glove compartment, she flinched. He grabbed a pistol and a flashlight.

  Her eyes bugged at the sight of the gun. “You own a gun?”

  “Most folks do.”

  “Not where I’m from they don’t.”

  He shrugged.

  “Why do you need a gun? Are we in danger?”

  “No, but I’d rather have it inside with me than out here in the truck if we need it.”

  “Will we need it?”

  “Hope not.” He opened the door and left her sitting in the truck, wondering what they were in for.

  She wrapped her coat tight around her and followed him to the porch. Tommy lifted pieces of wood, the welcome mat, and gave a half-smile when he found the key under a wooden bear. He opened the door and went in first, his gun gripped tight in his hand. She stayed on the porch until she heard him say, “You coming?”

  “What was with the cop routine? Did you think someone was in here?”

  “Nobody’s here.”

  She rubbed her gloved hands together and looked around. A stone fireplace took up one wall and was surrounded by a green couch and a leather chair with a quilt throw draped over the back. The small kitchen on the other wall held a full-sized refrigerator, a stove, a microwave, and a counter that separated it from the main room. Gretchen pointed to the doorway on her right. “Are those the bedrooms?”

  “One bedroom, one bath.” He flicked the light switch. When nothing happened, he moved to the kitchen and switched anther. “Power’s out.”

  “There’s only one bedroom?”

  He ignored her strangled tone and crouched to look into the fireplace. “Do me a favor and hand me that flashlight. I need to see if this chimney is clear.”

  “What if it’s not clear?”

  “Then we’re going to have a cold night ahead.”

  Just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse. She took the flashlight from the end table, careful not to touch the gun, and walked over to where Tommy sat on the hearth. She ignored the tingle zipping up her arm when their fingers touched as she passed it over. He lay on his back, wedging himself as close to the opening of the fireplace as possible, and flashed the beam into the chimney. Gretchen leaned over him, resting her hands on her knees. “Is it clear?”

  “I can’t tell.” He scooted closer, twisting so his head was practically lying on the grate. When he pulled the iron lever for the flue, a cloud of dust dropped onto his face. “He coughed and sputtered. He sat up abruptly and hit his head on the opening. “Damn it!”

  Gretchen moved in to check his head, but one look at his soot-covered face had her choking back a laugh. “Are you okay?” He looked like a clown with his black face and exaggerated frown. She tried to swallow a giggle.

  “You think this is funny?”

  “I…no, of course I don’t.” But she couldn’t contain her laughter. She threw a hand over her mouth, but that only made him furious. “You look like a vaudeville performer.”

  “Really?” He ran a hand over his face and flipped it over to inspect the damage. He looked up at her with a gleam in his eye. If she hadn’t felt so relieved to see something other than anger or disgust on his face, she might have had time to react. He reached out and ran that soot-covered hand down her face from forehead to chin.

  “Tommy!” She jumped back and stumbled over the braided rug. Tommy bolted up and caught her before she tumbled into the heavy wooden coffee table.

  “I got you,” he said, righting her. They were so close she could see the tiny flecks of gray in his brown eyes. Instead of letting her go, he leaned in and, holding her arms, rubbed his dirty face along hers as she squirmed and gasped. The feel of his stubble on her skin, the smell, and the aura of him surrounding her made her dizzy and disoriented.

  He must have realized she’d gone still. He pulled back, but didn’t let go of her arms.

  “There. Not so funny now.”

  She hadn’t forgotten his playfulness or the competitive streak that ran through him as thick as blood. She simply hadn’t expected to see it on display. “No, it’s not.”

  “Chimney’s clear.” He let go and wiped his hands on his jeans. “I’ll get some wood and get a fire started.”

  He’d already started a fire—a fire in her belly. Did he feel the thread of their connection, the connection that had bound them from the first year they lived together as stepsiblings? The fire they banked but could never extinguish, the fire that had engulfed them when she’d finally taken the biggest risk of her life and told him how she felt in college? He’d fought it, even when the force pulling them together was stronger than his resistance. His surrender seemed all the sweeter for having been so hard won.

  He wouldn’t surrender again. Punishment seemed the only option on the table—for both of them.

  ***

  Tommy concentrated on the task at hand. They needed heat, and they needed it fast. His fingers were going numb, and he didn’t like the color of Gretchen’s skin after she’d gone into the bathroom and washed the soot from her face.

  He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to move into her. He was only trying to stop her fall, but after, when he’d grabbed her and held on, inched forward, and rubbed his face along hers, it was as if a switch had been flipped. They were acting young again, searching for ways to touch each other that wouldn’t and couldn’t be construed as anything other than playful. They’d danced around each other as teenagers, wrestling, picking, insulting—anything they could do to jab the other because what they really wanted to do was to kiss and touch and behave as anything other than siblings.

  Leaving her to go to college had been a blessing and a curse. He finally got outside her obsessive bubble and tried to free his mind with other women. Poor substitutes one and all. When she’d come to Bickford during his sophomore year, away from their parents and finally legal, he still tried to avoid her. It was like trying to avoid the sun. He felt her before he saw her. Her laugh rang out over the quad as if she were giggling in his ear. The sound of her n
ame on his classmates’ and teammates’ lips made him want to crash his fist into a wall.

  When she did the unthinkable, when she came to him and offered herself, he was unable to resist any longer. Everything he’d fought against, every instinct he’d denied sprang to life and consumed them. He’d never been more alive or contented, even with keeping their relationship secret. She’d shattered him when she left without a word. Her marriage to his rival had completed the total destruction of his life. Knowing what had happened, what had caused her to make such rash and hurtful decisions didn’t soften the blow. It somehow rekindled the fire, never completely destroyed but only banked. Banked and waiting.

  He wanted to kill Ryan Lowry with his bare hands. He wanted to slap his mother and her father’s heads together and demand to know how they could have sacrificed Gretchen for a game and a university that meant nothing. He wanted some time away from her to process what she’d told him. The last thing he needed was to be in a confined space with her where no one and nothing could distract him from the only woman he’d ever loved.

  And it was his fault. He’d known a storm was brewing. He knew the sun would set before they returned to the valley. He knew being alone with her for any amount of time was a bad idea, but he’d done it anyway. He feared what the night would bring and what would be left of them both in the morning.

  Chapter 33

  “Louisiana?” Shiloh bellowed. “Are you kidding me?”

  Okay, Kevin told himself. Don’t back down because she freaked out. Habits were harder to break than he thought. “It’s not forever.”

  “How long is not forever?”

  “Three, maybe four weeks.”

  “Aaaarrrrghhhhh.” She flung herself onto the couch and dropped her head in her hands.

  Even for Shiloh, that reaction seemed over the top. The outrageousness of her behavior strengthened his resolve until her shoulders shook and he heard her whimper. Not the frilly whine she used to manipulate him, but genuine, uncontrollable weeping. He didn’t go to her; he was frozen in place watching his wife—his life—crumble. Her gasping for breath brought him out of his stupor and had him lunging to his knees before her, cradling her head. “Breathe, baby. Take a breath.”