A Mom for Callie

by Laura Bradford

  A groan escaped her lips as she pulled her focus from the wall, her eyes rolling back in her head as Kyle’s tongue brought her to the edge and then over. Slowly, he repositioned her thong only to slide the entire thing down her legs as he looked up, his gaze locked with hers.

  As she stepped out of her panties, he stood, the fire in his eyes propelling her to slide her hands under his shirt and lift it over his head, the tautness of his muscles heightening her desire still more. Reaching down, she undid his pants, her body craning toward his with an overpowering need to know him in the most intimate of ways.

  Without breaking eye contact, he lifted his pants from the floor, removing a foil wrapper from his front pocket. Wordlessly, she nodded, her eyes never leaving his as she lowered herself to the floor, her hand tugging him downward to join her. With her eyes fixed on his, she wrapped her hand around him and guided him inside her, their bodies joining together with a thrust that made them both scream out with pleasure. She looked from the wall to him and back again, the sensation of his length moving inside her matched only by the image of his body lifting and falling over hers as their breath became one.

  Time after time he brought her to the brink only to slow things down, his willpower maddeningly wonderful. Each thrust of his body sent her head spinning as she cried out for more—a more he accommodated again and again until he couldn’t resist any longer, his yell of pleasure matching hers as, together, they released themselves to the moment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  For the first time in a long time he woke with a smile, the kind of smile that started deep in his soul and affected far more than his lips. Stretching his arms over his head, Kyle looked around Betsy’s sun-dappled bedroom. Somehow, during the night, they’d made it upstairs, their bodies exhausted from a second and third round of lovemaking.

  For days he’d been entertaining a host of erotic fantasies starring his next-door neighbor, wild images that had left him torn between want and fear. But no more. The reality that was Betsy Anderson—both in and out of the bedroom—blew every single one of those fantasies out of the water and left him wanting more.

  There was something about Betsy that gave him hope. Hope that maybe a second chance was possible. Just the way she worried about him made his heart twist in an unfamiliar way. Lila had only cared about herself—her needs, her desires, her dreams, her image. Betsy, on the other hand, cared about him and Callie. She worried about them and took measures to keep them safe.

  He stared at the ceiling as he strained to hear some semblance of sound that would cue him to Betsy’s whereabouts, but there was nothing. Nothing except the sound of his own heartbeat as he recalled the way they’d made love again and again throughout the night, his internal wall crumbling with each kiss, each touch they shared.

  There were no two ways about it. He’d fallen for Betsy Anderson and he’d fallen hard. And, in all honesty, it was easy to see why.

  First, she was breathtakingly beautiful in that girl-next-door kind of way. The kind of woman that made heads turn again and again.

  Second, she was sweet—plain and simple. She listened when people spoke, considered feelings when expressed and made a point of correcting mistakes.

  And, finally, she was talented, and caring, and fun, and creative and amazing in bed.

  Sitting up, Kyle swung his legs to the ground and reached for his jeans, the memory of Betsy’s hands removing them making him hard all over again.

  He wandered into the hall only to stop outside the bathroom door and listen. But there was nothing—nothing except the faint sound of tapping somewhere in the distance. Confident now of her whereabouts, Kyle wound his way past the family room and kitchen and onto the sunporch, the sight of Betsy’s scantily clad form rooting his feet just inside the doorway.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Looking up from her computer screen, she smiled at him, the sparkle in her eyes confirming what he hoped to be true. “Do you like bacon and eggs?”

  He knew he was staring but he couldn’t help himself. It didn’t matter whether she wore a cute summer top with a tight pair of jeans, or a satiny negligee that barely covered all her parts…Betsy was beautiful.

  “I could make French toast if you’d rather.” She pressed something on the keyboard and then rose to her feet, gliding up alongside him as if she was made to be there forever. “Pancakes are always an option, too.”

  He opened his arms and she stepped inside, her head nestling against his chest as his lips found her hair. For a long moment they simply stood there, their bodies pressed against each other once again.

  Finally, he spoke, his voice husky with desire once again. “Are you an option?”

  She looked up at him, her brows furrowed. “Aren’t you starving? Especially after…” Her voice trailed off as she rested her head on his chest once again, a hint of a smile brushing against his skin.

  “Of course I’m starving. But you’re a million times better than any breakfast item you can name.” He planted a kiss on her head then released her just enough to make eye contact, his body reacting immediately.

  She gently placed a finger over his mouth. “I’m not going anywhere…I promise. But, if it’s okay, I’d like to make you something to eat. You never told me what happened with the bridge.”

  He considered protesting, pondered the notion of using his mouth to sway her to his line of thinking, but he didn’t. She deserved to know what happened especially since she’d been the one to call the department’s attention to the warning in the first place. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on the idea of taking you back to bed with me. You are, after all, entirely irresistible.”

  Rising up on tiptoe, she whispered her lips across his, the tingling sensation of her skin making him second-guess his decision. But before he could say so, she pulled him in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you a coffee guy?”

  “Nah. More of a milk and OJ guy.”

  “I can accommodate that.” She winked at him then pointed at the table for two that was positioned under the room’s solitary window. “I’ll get everything ready…and you just sit. I spent all of last evening dreaming up worst-case scenarios and I can’t wait any longer.”

  “I worried you that much?”

  She turned her back to him but not before he noted the slump to her shoulders as she pulled open the refrigerator. His eyes roamed over her as she bent at the waist to retrieve a carton of orange juice and several eggs from their holder. He swallowed back the desire to ravage her where she stood.

  “Please don’t worry about me. Really, I’m okay.”

  “I know. It’s just going to take me a little time to accept that.”

  “I understand.” And he did. The heart was a funny thing. It could make you retreat behind a rock-solid wall one minute and then lead you into a place you vowed you’d never go again. “You did the right thing yesterday.”

  “Oh, thanks. Maybe I’m not just a selfish person who cared only about myself?”

  He jumped to his feet. Grabbing hold of her arm, he turned her to him, his gaze seeking hers. “I was a jerk the other night. I know that. And I’m sorry. I think we both have ghosts we’re trying to slay and you got caught in the knife’s path. I’m sorry.”

  “I forgave you sometime yesterday afternoon,” she whispered.

  “How? I didn’t see you until last night….”

  Shrugging, she stepped back against the counter, her hands finding his waist and guiding him toward her. “I realized you were acting from a place of hurt. We both are. Once I was able to admit that, I couldn’t be angry anymore.”

  For a long moment he simply studied her, his eyes searching her face for any indication that she was simply too good to be true. But there was nothing. Nothing except her sweet smile and compassion-filled eyes. “I—I love you, Betsy.”

  The surprise in her face was nothing compared to the surprise he felt as the words slipped effortlessly from his mouth. He hadn’t intended to say it, h
adn’t realized he was even truly there yet. But now that he’d put words to the feeling, he knew it to be true.

  He loved her. He truly loved her.

  She looked up at him through tear-dappled lashes, her smile wobbly. “I love you, too, Kyle. It’s why I’ve been so scared. Don’t you see? My heart is involved now.”

  Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to his chest once again. “But don’t you see? Knowing that only intensifies my need to think with my head, to make smart decisions based on my training.”

  It wasn’t until her shoulders began to move that he realized she was crying. And, for a moment, he considered trying to thwart the tears. But, in the end, he let them flow, his fingers brushing them from her face from time to time. When she was done, she looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” he asked, his gaze riveted on her face.

  “For understanding.”

  He swallowed over the lump in his throat. “I think you’re the one who’s done a better job of understanding. But that’s about to change. You have my word.”

  With one last swipe at her damp cheeks, Betsy gestured toward the table once again. “I’m never going to get your breakfast made if you keep touching me.”

  “That’s okay,” he teased.

  “Sit.”

  He sat.

  As she made breakfast, he talked, filling her in on the graffiti and the bottle of spray paint they found less than a hundred yards away. It was the tip they’d been waiting for, especially when Jake Morgan at the hardware store was able to give basic details of the person who’d bought the can not more than twenty-four hours earlier. Slowly but surely, the case was coming together.

  “It must have been hard to leave last night,” she said as she placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him. “I mean, to get the first real lead and have to leave…”

  “I didn’t have to leave,” he said as he forked a bite of eggs and stopped it just shy of his mouth. “I wanted to leave. To see you.”

  Her mouth gaped open, making him laugh. “Don’t look so surprised. As I said, you’re irresistible.”

  The tears from earlier resurfaced in her eyes, her mouth trembling. Dropping his fork to his plate, he reached across the table and took hold of her hand. “I knew Tom could handle things. He’s the best partner a cop could ask for. If something came up, he’d call me.”

  She nodded but said nothing, her head tilted downward.

  “I wanted to see you…to apologize for my behavior the night before and to thank you for distracting Callie away from the graffiti.”

  Her head snapped up. “Angela told you that part?”

  “Of course she did.”

  “I—I think I was able to convince Callie the words meant something else.”

  The worry in her eyes touched him deeply and he squeezed her hand. “Callie is fine. I called my mom right after I talked to Angela. Whatever you said worked because she left the park, talking about some little boy from her class.”

  “Peter.”

  “Peter?” he repeated.

  “The little boy from her class. They played together on the playground while I called Angela.”

  He shook his head in awe. “I’m her father and I can’t remember the name of more than two kids in her class. You’re with her for a few minutes and can remember the name of some kid she plays with.”

  Slipping her hand out from underneath his, she placed it on top. “You attend to the important stuff, Kyle…her happiness, her safety, her well-being. Remembering a name is the easy part.”

  “I feel like I’ve abandoned her lately, shoved her off on my mom time after time.” He closed his eyes, savored the sense of calm her touch brought to his soul. “But it’s the only way I can see fit to keeping her safe.”

  “And it’s smart.” Removing her hand from his, she pushed her own plate off to the side. “I imagine you have the day off, right?”

  “Normally I wouldn’t, but Tom and I swapped with another team a few days ago. Besides—” he glanced up at the clock and grinned “—if I didn’t, I’d have had an irate call from the lieutenant by now.”

  “Let’s do something special with Callie.”

  He stared at her. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Don’t you have to write?”

  She picked up her plate as she stood. “I did a little writing while you were sleeping. It’ll be enough for today.”

  “Have I told you I love you in the last minute or so?” he asked.

  “In the last minute…no.”

  “I love you, Betsy Anderson.”

  HE LEANED AGAINST THE TREE to catch his breath, Callie’s giggles interspersed with Betsy’s whispered pleas for quiet bringing a smile to his lips. Girls were lousy at playing hide-and-seek.

  Big or little, females avoided the really clever places to hide like trash cans, sewers and drainage tunnels, opting instead for the standard choices—trees, furniture, bushes. Betsy and Callie were no exception.

  Still, he waited, the easy rapport between his daughter and Betsy something to be savored and enjoyed. For as long as he could remember, his mother had been a firm believer in the one-door-closed/one-door-opened way of thinking. And, for the first time in more years than he could count, he believed it, as well.

  Lila wasn’t meant to be more than the woman who carried Callie. He could see that now. A mother was someone who listened. Someone who nurtured and encouraged a child in all aspects of life. His ex-wife simply didn’t fit the bill.

  Sliding his back along the trunk, he dropped to the grass beneath the tree, eavesdropping on the two females in his life rather than trying to catch them.

  “Are you almost done with your book?” Callie asked, her sweet voice echoing in his ears.

  “Not yet. I have about ten more weeks to get it done.” Betsy’s whispered words made him sit up, listen closer

  “And then they put it in the bookstore?”

  “No, not quite. It actually takes about nine months for that process to happen. But at least my part—for the time being—will be done.”

  Her part. The writing part. The part that had her renting the Rileys’ home.

  Scrubbing his hand across his face, he leaned against the tree as reality wiped the stars from his eyes. Three months from now Betsy would be gone—headed back to New York and her big writing career. Cedar Creek wasn’t her home. It was a pit stop, a writing refuge on the heels of a tough year.

  The realization hit with a one-two punch.

  What had he been thinking? Who had he been kid ding? Betsy’s aspirations were bigger than Cedar Creek.

  Swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat, he pushed off the ground, his stellar seeking skills finding his daughter in mere seconds.

  Eyes wide with excitement, Callie began jumping in place. “We almost had you, didn’t we, Daddy?”

  “Almost, pumpkin.” Turning from his daughter, he pinned Betsy with a hard stare, his voice taking on a wooden quality. “Almost. But fortunately for both of us I wised up just in time.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was no use. She simply wasn’t hungry.

  “I’m sorry, Angela, I really am, but I just can’t eat. It looks good but…I’m just not in the mood.”

  Angela waved her hand in the air then wrapped it around the wineglass in front of her. “I can’t blame you. Kyle is playing head games with you right now and it’s completely unacceptable.” Leaning forward across the table, the woman looked around the outdoor café for a moment before focusing her attention squarely on Betsy. “I admire Kyle for many things—his loyalty to my husband both in and out of the department, his love for his mother and his unwavering devotion to Callie. But this? It’s too much.”

  She had to agree. This one step forward, two steps back stuff was getting tiresome. Not to mention painful. Especially now, after everything they’d shared. “I thought we’d finally reached some, I don’t know, understanding, maybe? We�
��re both colored by our past and we’re aware of that. But I thought after the other night, after we made love, that things would be—”

  Horrified she’d spoken aloud, Betsy clamped her mouth shut, her hand instinctively reaching for the untouched glass of wine beside her untouched plate of food. The last thing she wanted was to be peppered with questions that would force her to relive the most magical night of her life. Not now, when the magic seemed more like a fool’s decision.

  But it was too late. Angela’s eyes widened as her glass smacked down on the table. “You were together? The other night? I knew it! I knew it was going to happen…you two are perfect for each other.”

  “No. We’re not.” Propping her elbow beside her plate, she rested her chin on the backside of her hand. “I wish we were, I really do. But we’re not. A relationship that’s truly meant to be shouldn’t be this hard.”

  Angela’s brows furrowed. “How do you mean?”

  She tried her best to explain, to put words to the revelation-of-sorts she’d reached over the past twelve months. “Well, if two people are truly right for each other it shouldn’t be so hard. Compromise is good—don’t get me wrong. But if the whole thing is compromise, someone is going through the motions all the time. A true relationship, one that’s meant to be, shouldn’t be like that.”

  “You seemed to work together pretty effortlessly when we played volleyball.”

  “Well, we certainly seem to have similar interests in terms of what we like to do—visits to the park, barbecuing with friends…”

  “Romantic backyard picnics?”

  Her face warmed at the memory. “You know about that?”

  “I think the entire Cedar Creek police force and their spouses know about that picnic.” Angela made a face. “And I know I wasn’t the only spouse who was asked why we don’t do stuff like that.”

  She laughed. “Sorry. But I owed him an apology and it didn’t appear as if he was going to give me an opportunity to give the standard verbal variety. I needed to take drastic measures.”