Our Now and Forever (Ardent Springs #2)

by Terri Osburn

  “There’s a condition,” she added, certain he would never agree to what she was about to propose.

  Wearing a smile of premature victory, he said, “What’s that?”

  With a deep breath, Snow blurted, “There will be no sex.”

  Now she was fighting dirty.

  “What kind of a condition is that?” They were good in bed. Hell, they were great in bed. Why mess with the one thing they had going for them?

  “You don’t like my terms, you know where the door is.”

  Caleb held silent, gauging how serious she might be. Damn if she didn’t look really serious. He needed to make up for that stupid conversation with his dad, but how could he do that if she wouldn’t let him show her how sorry he was?

  “We need to talk about this,” Caleb said.

  “You say we belong together. Rationally belong together.” Snow tapped a finger to one temple. “Lust is what got us into this situation, and you know it. We’re aware that there’s no problem in that area, so we’ll take that element off the table while we figure out the rest.”

  “You can’t take sex off the table.”

  “I just did,” she said smugly. “Ready to walk now?”

  This was a test. She was trying to make him admit defeat before the battle had even begun. Fine. He’d give her this one, but there were ways of making her pay.

  Sliding on his best smile, Caleb said, “I can go without if you can, darling.” He’d gone without for a year and a half. What was one more month? At least that’s what his upper brain was thinking. The lower brain had reached the limits of its patience about a week after Snow had left.

  So he’d call her bluff, but if Snow thought he was going to make this easy, she was wrong. He’d seen her reaction when he’d brought up that old leather chair. She was as hot for it as he was, and that was a card he’d play as often as possible.

  “Good,” she said, looking less sure of herself. “Then we have a month until this farce ends. If you’ll excuse me, I need to finish closing my store.”

  “Wait a minute,” he said. This wasn’t all going to be one-sided. “I have a condition of my own.”

  Snow tossed the coat she’d removed over her desk. “And what is that?”

  “No calling our marriage a farce. You have to give this a fair try, Snow.” Showing more vulnerability than he liked, Caleb added, “You owe me that much.”

  She agreed with a nod, an unspoken apology flashing over her features.

  As he watched her recount the drawer and complete her paperwork, Caleb let the relief come. He’d found her. She hadn’t left him for another man, and she’d agreed to give him a chance. Caleb had a month to bring his wife around to seeing things his way, and whatever it took, he’d do it. He had to or else go home, get a divorce, and prove his parents right.

  That was not an option.

  “I’m parked around the corner,” Snow said when she’d finished her closing paperwork. She flipped the switches that darkened the store except for the counter area, which remained illuminated. “You can follow me to my place.”

  Caleb shook his head. “I don’t think so. Call me crazy, but I’m not giving you the chance to drive off in heaven knows what direction. You can ride with me.”

  Snow bristled as they stepped through the exit. “I can drive myself.”

  “Yeah,” he said as she locked the door. “Right across the state line. My Jeep is half a block down in front of the diner. Let’s go.”

  She held her ground, staring hard but holding her tongue. He stared back, letting her know he could be as stubborn as she was. When Snow huffed and marched off toward his Jeep, Caleb enjoyed the minor victory.

  Under normal circumstances, he’d have opened Snow’s door for her, but she was inside and in a full pout by the time he reached the vehicle. So long as she was going in the direction he wanted, Caleb saw no reason to look like a fool chasing her down the street.

  As he climbed behind the wheel and latched his seat belt, Snow asked, “Why do you drive this thing?”

  Caleb stared at her. “What’s wrong with my Jeep?”

  “You’re rich, Caleb.” Snow tugged the seat belt strap over her right shoulder. “This thing must be like ten years old. Why don’t you drive something a rich guy would drive? Then maybe women like me wouldn’t be so surprised to learn you come from money.”

  Since when did having money become a bad thing? “This Jeep is thirty years old, and it’s in mint condition. I drive it because I like it.” This Jeep carried some of the few positive memories Caleb had of family bonding, albeit bonding with an uncle instead of his father. Speaking of . . . “And my father is rich, I’m not.”

  Her brows shot up. “You have a trust fund.”

  “So I’m not poor,” he conceded. “And I didn’t hear you complaining about me having too much money when you were buying a new wardrobe back in Baton Rouge.”

  Not that he cared about Snow buying new clothes. As far as he was concerned, she could buy anything she wanted. But he’d spent enough years taking shit for his upbringing, which he’d had no control over, to let her throw it in his face now. And it wasn’t as if he’d intentionally kept his bank account a secret until they were married. The subject never came up.

  Snow’s jaw twitched as she stared out the windshield. “Follow Main down to Butler, then make a right.”

  Caleb put the Jeep in gear and did as ordered. He didn’t like arguing about money, and fought the urge to apologize for his words. But if she’d left him because of his money, how was he supposed to fix that? Give all his money away and become penniless? Then what kind of a life would they have?

  “Turn left up here on Fair,” Snow said after he’d made the turn onto Butler. “The house is the third one down on the right. Pull into the drive and go all the way back.”

  As he followed her directions, Caleb’s jaw dropped. The white Victorian was huge. The sweeping front porch with its ornate rail ran the length of the structure, and his headlights illuminated a row of rockers to the right of the front door.

  This place was straight out of the antebellum South and screamed old money. What kind of a game was his wife playing?

  “You live here?” he asked, the questions building in his mind by the second.

  “Pull to the left in front of the garage,” she said, ignoring his inquiry.

  The garage, a three-car monstrosity, looked as elaborately decked out as the house. He’d bet his inheritance that the building had been a carriage house long before anyone had heard of Henry Ford.

  Following Snow’s lead, who’d bolted from the Jeep the moment he’d cut the engine, Caleb stepped onto the gravel drive, then threw his head back to see the entire house. It was at least three stories, maybe four including an attic, which this place probably had. Didn’t they keep the kids up there in the old days?

  It wasn’t until Snow said, “In here,” that he glanced down to see her passing through a garden gate toward a one-level extension on the back of the building.

  He caught up and followed her up the stairs, expecting to step into a large kitchen. Instead, he entered what looked like a small room that progressed into a kitchenette area straight out of a decorating magazine. An old-fashioned stove sat on the left wall. Along the back was a counter with a centered sink and two windows above it. The only cupboards were those beneath, and all Caleb could think was where would you put stuff?

  The kitchen back home was larger than these two rooms combined. Everything in sight was white, except for the occasional touch of color. A red apple orchard sign on a shelf over the kitchen windows. Blue canisters along the left side of the counter. A green throw over the short white couch, and a burst of flowers in the painting to his right.

  “What is this place?” he asked, confusion clouding his brain. He couldn’t make a connection between the large house he’d par
ked behind and this miniature space.

  “It’s where I live,” Snow said, dropping her coat and bag over a white wing-back chair. “Miss Hattie lives in the house, and she rents this apartment to me.”

  “Miss Hattie?”

  “The Silvesters have lived on this property since the 1850s,” Snow said. “Miss Hattie is the last of the line.”

  “Right.” Caleb looked for a place to drop his bag and settled for a spot not far from the door. “It’s nice.” Tiny was the word that came to mind, but he didn’t want to give her the impression that her apartment wasn’t good enough for him. Just because it was smaller than the bedroom he grew up in didn’t mean he couldn’t adjust.

  “I like it,” she said, conveying the message that she had no intention of leaving it anytime soon.

  They stood in the middle of the room in awkward silence until Snow said, “I need to get out of this costume.”

  Without thinking, he asked, “Need some help?”

  Snow spun. “What part of ‘no sex’ do you not understand?”

  Caleb leaned an elbow on the top of the chair next to him. “I didn’t ask to get into your knickers, darling. I simply offered to help undo a zipper.” And if his fingertips happened to slide over her skin as he did so . . .

  If he didn’t know better, Caleb would swear Snow’s eyelid twitched. “I can manage,” she said, turning toward the door next to the stove, then turning back his way to ask, “How did you find me, anyway?”

  “Spotted a flier in a music shop down in Nashville for some Ruby festival. One of the sponsors was Snow’s Curiosity Shop.” He shrugged. “Figured it was worth checking out.”

  “Lucky break,” Snow mumbled under her breath. “I’ll get some blankets for the couch.”

  “Uh-uh,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  Glancing toward the miniature sofa on his left, Caleb said, “I’m not sleeping there. This couch is about four feet too small. I’ll be sleeping in the bed.”

  Propping both hands on her hips, Snow glared. “You expect me to give up my bed and sleep on the couch?”

  “I never said that. You can sleep next to me,” he said, enjoying this saucy side of his wife.

  “We agreed,” she said.

  “We agreed to no sex. There was no mention of not sleeping together.” Caleb stepped into the kitchen and perused the contents of the skinny fridge. “We’re husband and wife, and that means sharing the same bed.” Turning her way, he added, “You don’t think you can sleep next to me without jumping my bones?”

  Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “I’m sure I won’t feel tempted at all.”

  Chapter 4

  Snow had clearly underestimated her opponent.

  Sleeping next to Caleb and not having sex with him was going to test every last ounce of her willpower. She didn’t know where it came from, but the man had some weird hold over her. Not that Snow would ever admit that annoying truth aloud.

  But refusing to sleep with him would be a point in Caleb’s favor. Reveal a weakness she had no doubt he’d capitalize on. Massaging her temples, Snow considered her options, and the only real choice she had was to buck up and do it. To crawl into bed with the man and prove that she was not the weak one.

  Maybe she could put pillows down the center, delineating a “his” side and a “her” side. He’d likely accuse her of needing the added protection to keep her own urges in check, but Snow would argue the barrier was to keep him out of her space. Which went beyond stupid. If Caleb wanted to invade her side of the bed, no amount of feathers would stop him. And, Snow feared, neither would she.

  The sound of the microwave accompanied by loud whistling let her know he was making himself at home. The happy tune set her teeth on edge. Caleb thought this was going to be so easy. A sexy grin with a little innuendo and she’d be begging him to breach more than a measly pillow wall.

  Snow’s spine stiffened. Her husband-for-now was in for a surprise. Not only was she not going to have sex with him, but she would make his every waking minute miserable for the next month. Two weeks max and he’d be heading back to Louisiana.

  That thought made her feel guilty. She was still processing the fact that he hadn’t meant the words he’d said to his father. Not that he’d replaced them now with declarations of love and endless devotion, but there was no doubt Caleb was determined to make this marriage work, so he must care for her.

  For that reason alone, she’d agreed to give this a chance, and Caleb had been right. She owed him that much. But when this fell apart, as it inevitably would, they would go their separate ways. For good. Snow had never imagined she’d be a divorcée at the age of twenty-seven, but she also never fathomed doing something as stupid as marrying a virtual stranger in Las Vegas. This was a situation of her own making, and now she had to get herself out of it.

  “I don’t hear any water running,” drawled a deep voice through the door.

  Snow jumped away from the slat of wood and shot an evil glare she wished could travel through walls. “I’m getting my clothes together,” she answered, honey dripping from every word.

  “Hope it’s that little red number,” he said. “I’ve missed that one a lot.”

  Snow jerked a pillow off the bed and threw it at the door. As expected, it didn’t make a sound. She’d worn “that little red number” on their wedding night. And several times during their first month of wedded bliss, though she didn’t know why she’d bothered.

  Most of the time, Caleb had managed to get Snow out of her unmentionables in less time than it took her to get into them. Not that she’d complained much at the time. When he was shirtless and that light shone in his eyes, the slips of lace practically melted to the floor. The memories alone sent heat spreading through her abdomen.

  When Snow realized she was fanning herself, her resolve returned. She stomped to her dresser, withdrew her most conservative pajamas, along with her least sexy pair of underwear, and headed for the bathroom.

  “You’re not going to win this game, Caleb McGraw,” she said under her breath. “I am not going down without a fight.”

  “Let me know if you need me to scrub your back,” Caleb offered.

  Ignoring the taunt, Snow surrendered to the childish act of sticking her tongue out in his general direction. As she turned on the hot water, she sent up a silent prayer for strength. One lust-fogged rash decision would not ruin the rest of her life. And neither would Caleb McGraw.

  Caleb was playing with fire, but he couldn’t help himself. All those months he’d been seeing Snow only in his dreams, and the real thing was still better than anything his subconscious had created. The dark curls dancing around her face. The hazel eyes that turned gold when she was aroused. Or angry, he now knew. The slender body that radiated power and fragility while putting ideas in his head about all the ways he’d like to test both.

  As he acquainted himself with Snow’s kitchen, Caleb considered the night ahead. For all his taunting and teasing, he knew Snow held the upper hand in this battle. Eighteen months of celibacy needed to end, but thanks to Snow and her “conditions,” that was not going to happen tonight.

  Some men might have found comfort elsewhere after their wife disappeared for more than a year, with no word on when or even if she was coming back. Regardless of how fickle he might appear to the rest of the world, Caleb had made a vow, and that meant something.

  His father had been unfaithful for years, and though Vivien McGraw kept her head held high, Caleb knew it must be a painful way to live. His mother had all but shriveled to nothing over the years, going without food to keep her figure, as if that would somehow change her husband’s behavior. Playing the doting wife in front of company, but sleeping in a separate bedroom from her husband and rarely speaking or sharing a meal in private.

  That was not the kind of marriage Caleb wanted, and regardless of S
now’s temporary absence, if he’d climbed into another woman’s bed, his marriage was as good as over whether he ever found his wife again or not. And as for her insistence that they were from different worlds, that’s what had drawn him to her.

  Snow was nothing like the debutantes his mother was always throwing his way. She didn’t care about brand-name purses or if the salad fork was on the inside instead of the outside. She made him laugh, and best of all, she made him feel . . . normal.

  Most of the people his parents knew were just like them. Shallow. Materialistic. Not to mention power hungry and bullying. Jackson McGraw could best be described as a son of a bitch, which wasn’t exactly the kind of man any boy should aspire to be. Caleb knew at an early age that he never wanted to emulate his father, which contributed to his lack of settling into a career.

  His father had done everything possible short of tying Caleb to a desk to make him join the company business. Though he’d eventually caved and earned a business degree, and endured several internships at various McGraw Media holdings, Caleb had put off the inevitable by living in Nashville, near his alma mater of Vanderbilt University.

  His parents believed he was considering going back for his MBA, but in truth, he’d been avoiding growing up by partying his life away. Until he’d met Snow. From that New Year’s Eve on, his life was changed. Which was why when Snow had disappeared, there’d been no question that he’d go after her. Finding her had become his sole mission, nullifying the voices of doubt around him.

  After a year with no word, his friends told him to give up, while his mother insisted he come home. Thankfully, Caleb had been stubborn enough to ignore them all. Today, he’d found his wife. But finding her and getting her back were turning out to be two different things.

  After pouring himself a glass of water, he leaned against the bedroom door, listening for movement. Seconds of silence passed before he heard a drawer close, followed closely by the creaking of the bed.

  That was his cue.