by Terri Osburn
Pulling his bag onto his shoulder, Caleb knocked on the bedroom door and waited for an answer. Nothing came, so he knocked again. Had she locked the door? He fought the urge to jiggle the knob and was rewarded for his patience with a muffled order to come in.
He lingered on the threshold, staring at the explosion of feminine frills bounding from every corner of the room. A long white dresser occupied the right wall, covered in trinket boxes and what looked like a strip of material straight out of a Paris fabric shop. To his left was the bed, with a white cast-iron headboard and Snow flat on her back, eyes on the ceiling, and the faded coverlet up to her neck.
For his part, Caleb couldn’t get past the explosion of colors covering her body. The bed looked as if a flower shop had puked all over it. He was secure enough in his manhood to handle just about anything, but this would push any guy’s limits. Pinks, purples, and blues fought for dominance. And not even a masculine blue. More like a sissified blue, as if the other pale shades had beaten it into submission.
If Caleb wasn’t careful, the same could happen to him. Not without a fight.
“You can put your stuff in the chair over there,” Snow said, nodding her head toward the far corner of the room. The term “far corner” was an exaggeration, as the room was barely big enough for the bed and dresser. Whoever had built this dinky apartment must have had a munchkin in mind as a tenant.
Once the estrogen overload simmered down, Caleb dropped his bag onto the wicker chair indicated. The flimsy thing would never hold him, which meant he’d have to sit on the bed to remove his boots. The soft mattress dipped low beneath his weight. A quick glance Snow’s way revealed the blanket had been pulled higher, her eyes and nose barely visible above the lace trim.
He couldn’t help but wonder what she’d opted to sleep in. When they’d been together, neither of them slept in anything. Caleb wouldn’t push his luck, or his body, that far tonight, but he wasn’t going to sleep in his jeans either. Carrying his shaving bag into the bathroom, he hesitated when he spotted the sink. Who would make a sink this small? There couldn’t have been more than four inches between the front edge of the bowl and the end of the faucet, which looked at least eighty years old, with two four-point knobs facing forward instead of up.
Doing the best he could not to make a mess, Caleb finished his nightly business and stepped back into the bedroom. Snow feigned sleep, but he’d caught her watching him out of one eye. She was clearly trying to pretend his presence wasn’t affecting her, which made this the perfect time to show his wife what she’d been missing.
The moment she heard his zipper drop, Snow sat up in the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Getting ready for bed,” he said, choosing not to mention the baby duck–covered pajamas that were buttoned to her neck. If she was going for non-sexy, she’d hit the mark. “You don’t expect me to sleep in my jeans.”
“Then what are you going to sleep in?” she asked, regaining the blankets and hugging them against her chest.
Caleb grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. “Afraid I don’t own fancy pajamas like yours,” he said with a smile, and tugged the shirt over his head.
Snow tried to cover the gasp, but it was no use. His broad shoulders glowed in the soft light of her bedside lamp, rippling with every movement, making her long to run her fingers through the light patch of hair on his chest that she knew would be soft to the touch. Her mouth dried up as other parts turned moist, and Snow couldn’t pull her eyes away. Her husband was gorgeous.
And he knew it.
Holding her gaze as he pushed the worn denim over narrow hips, down muscled thighs and solid calves, Caleb conveyed with a look that all she had to do was break her own rule and she could have anything she wanted. And oh did she want. She wanted this man as she’d never wanted anything in her life, but she couldn’t have him and win back her future.
“That’s far enough,” she said, falling back onto the pillow to stare at the ceiling.
Snow turned out the light and flopped onto her side to face away from Caleb’s half of the bed. She felt cool air against her back as he lifted the blankets, replaced by heat as he settled in beside her. His breath tickled the back of her neck, and she wished he’d face the other way. Of course he wouldn’t. Caleb meant to make this night as difficult as possible, just as she intended to make his days a living hell.
At least they both knew what they were up against.
“Do I get a kiss goodnight?” he asked, his voice a whisper in the silent room.
Snow squeezed her eyes shut tight as a yes danced on the tip of her tongue. She could turn around and fall into him. Experience the security and protection she always felt in his arms. But that feeling is what had gotten her into this.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.
“Just a kiss, Snow,” he pleaded. “It’s been a long time.”
Caleb toyed with her curls, waiting for her to change her mind. The gentle gesture weakened her resolve, and she rolled onto her back. “Why are you making this harder?”
With a deep chuckle, he said, “Something is definitely getting harder, but it’s more your doing than mine.”
His toe slid up her pant leg, and Snow fought to keep her knees together. “Your condition was that I take this seriously,” she whispered, turning to face him. “I’m willing to do that, but you have to honor your part of the bargain. We need to know each other without the fog of sex getting in the way, Caleb. Without lust clouding up our minds.”
A boyish smile lifted one side of his mouth. “Not having sex won’t take lust out of the equation. Not for me. I can’t imagine ever not wanting you, Snow.”
The confession created a piercing pain in her heart. “You want my body. There’s more to me than that.”
The toe retreated to his side of the bed. “You’re right,” he said, taking her by surprise. Before she knew what he was doing, her husband placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and said, “Good night.”
Though she should have reveled in her victory, or been relieved that he’d seen her point, Snow didn’t experience either of those things. Instead, she felt . . . disappointed. Silly, since she was getting what she wanted. She rolled onto her side again, wide awake and expecting to stay that way for hours, listening to the sound of her husband breathing only inches away. But eventually, Snow closed her eyes and drifted into dreams, lured by the dark, or calmed by Caleb’s presence, she wasn’t sure which.
Chapter 5
Caleb woke in an empty bed, not sure where he was. Nothing looked familiar, but when he leaned up on his elbows, the scent of wildflowers danced around him.
“Snow,” he said, looking around. Fear sent his heart racing.
Had she left again? Where would she go this time? Caleb jumped out of bed and was grabbing his jeans when he heard a noise from the kitchen. Like a toaster popping. He peeked through the open bedroom door to find his wife making breakfast a few feet away.
“Morning,” she said, pulling a mug off a shelf above the counter. “I was going to give you five more minutes if you didn’t get up on your own.” Reaching for a half-filled coffee pot, she said, “Do you want milk or vanilla creamer? Afraid that’s all I have. I wasn’t expecting company.”
Caleb shoved one leg into his jeans. “Milk is fine,” he answered. “How long have you been up?”
“About an hour.” He heard plates hit the counter. “I need to leave soon.”
The clock on her nightstand said 7:10 a.m. “To open the store?” he asked, stepping into the living room as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.
Snow gave him a shy smile as she handed him the coffee. “No, I don’t open the store until noon on Sundays. There’s an auction today out at the old Brambleton place.”
“That’s where you get all the stuff you sell?” he asked, sipping his coffee, which was perfectly sweetened. She must have reme
mbered how much sugar he liked.
Shaking her head, she dished eggs onto a plate. “Not always. I started as a consignment store. Locals brought in things they didn’t need or want anymore, I’d sell it, and we’d split the profit.” Sliding the loaded plate onto the counter, she gestured toward the fridge. “Butter for the toast is on the door.”
There was barely enough room to open the fridge with Snow standing at the stove, since the two appliances were directly across from each other, but Caleb managed to retrieve the butter as well as a knife from the proper drawer. “I’m surprised a town this small could cough up all that old stuff.”
“The town isn’t as small as you think,” she said, a tremor of irritation in her tone. “And some of that old stuff, as you call it, is valuable. I get customers from outside the county on a regular basis, and I earn enough to make a living.”
He’d wondered how she supported herself while they were apart. When he’d met her in Nashville, she was selling Western wear during the day, singing for tips four nights a week in local bars, and booking demo gigs whenever she could. The three jobs combined hadn’t been enough for her to live on her own without a roommate.
“Do you sing anywhere?” he asked. Though he hadn’t known she was a singer the night they met, the first time he heard her belting out “Delta Dawn” in a dive on Broadway, Caleb had been more than impressed.
The spatula hovered over the pan as Snow hesitated to answer. “No,” she finally said. One word that said a lot.
“Why not?” he asked. “You’re close enough to Nashville to record a demo now and then.”
“I don’t sing anymore, that’s all.” Snow loaded the remaining eggs onto her own plate. “Once we were married and you moved us to Baton Rouge, I thought I’d miss it, but I didn’t. Getting away made me realize that, though I enjoyed the act of singing, I didn’t like all the hoopla that went into trying to do it for a living.” Caleb didn’t like the way she said he’d moved her to Baton Rouge, as if she’d had no choice in the matter. “Besides,” Snow added, “running the store takes all my time.”
Slicing the buttered toast from corner to corner, Caleb set a piece on her plate and another on his own. “That’s a shame,” he said, reading in her body language that she didn’t want to talk about it.
They took their seats on the couch, as the apartment didn’t allow room for a table, and ate in silence for several minutes. Caleb hadn’t planned anything beyond finding his wife, and he definitely hadn’t considered playing house with her the morning after. She’d been right the night before, when she said they needed to really get to know each other. Maybe if he’d paid more attention when they’d first married, he would have recognized something had been bothering her before she left.
And if she loved this store so much, then he needed to become a part of it. Time for Operation: Getting to Know Each Other to begin.
“Tell me about the auction. Are we looking for specific items?”
Snow nearly choked on her eggs, taking several seconds to cough them out of her windpipe. “Did you say we?” she asked once she could speak.
“Yeah, we,” he said. “Did you plan to leave me here while you went to the auction?”
“If you’re worried that I’ll disappear again—”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. It’s clear I wasn’t enough to keep you in Baton Rouge, but I can see what this store means to you.” Lifting his coffee for a drink, he added, “I know you won’t leave it, even to get away from me.”
“I’m not sure how to respond to that.”
Caleb had hoped she’d refute the idea that he wasn’t enough, but he should have known better. “No need,” he said. “We have a month to get to know each other. We’ll start with me watching you work.” The words came out harsher than he’d intended.
“You make it sound like I’m applying for a job.”
“I’m the one who’s having to fight to stay on here.”
“A marriage isn’t a business exchange,” she snapped.
“It isn’t something that you quit without notice either.” This was not how he’d wanted the morning to go. Caleb set his plate on the coffee table and leaned his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know what you want from me, Snow, but I’m doing my best. Tell me how this is supposed to go and I’ll make it happen.”
Dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin, Snow kept her eyes on her plate. “I don’t know what to tell you. That’s the problem.”
Taking a deep breath, he leaned back on the couch and took a different approach. “Then let’s decide what we’re going to tell people.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, meeting his eye.
Caleb scratched the stubble on his chin. “How long have you been in this town?”
“Since June of last year.”
So she’d been here almost the entire time. Amazing.
“And in all that time, did you tell anyone that you were married?”
Snow dropped her gaze. “Lorelei figured it out yesterday, and you confirmed it when you referred to me as your wife. But no one else knows.”
“Today, you’re going to walk into an auction with your husband. We both know people will have questions.”
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Snow gathered their plates and carried them to the sink. “Do we have to tell anyone anything?”
How had he not noticed how anti-conflict she was? “That’s up to you, but I don’t think we can avoid telling them something. And before you suggest it, I’m not going to lie.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to lie,” she said, her tone defensive. “I’m suggesting we don’t need to share all the facts . . . exactly.”
Telling total strangers that his wife had run from their marriage wasn’t an appealing choice to Caleb, but short of saying he’d dropped out of the sky, he couldn’t think of any other answer.
“Why don’t we tell them we were dating before I moved here,” she said, “and that we’ve recently gotten back in touch.”
“And now I’m living with you?”
“We dated for a long time. We can even say we were engaged. Oh,” she said, growing excited about the story she was concocting. “We reconnected online and have been carrying on a long-distance relationship. And now you’re here.” Looking proud of herself, she added, “That should work.”
Caleb didn’t like having to pretend he wasn’t yet married to his wife, but this could play into his favor. The town would see them as lovebirds planning a wedding. And maybe that’s what they needed. Once Snow admitted they were good together, he could give her the real wedding she deserved.
“I’ll go with that,” he agreed, stepping into the bedroom for his boots.
When he returned with his keys, Snow was waiting by the door. “I’ll drive.”
“But I always drive,” he said. Caleb couldn’t remember the last time he’d occupied a passenger seat.
“I like driving,” she said. “You don’t always have to be the one behind the wheel. And besides, I know where we’re going.”
His sense of chivalry prickled. “You can give me directions.”
Snow stared at him with her hand on the doorknob. “Caleb McGraw, you can ride in my car with me driving, or you can stay here. Or,” she added, “you can go home. Those are your choices.”
He didn’t like any of those choices. “I can let you drive,” he grudgingly agreed. “It’s not a big deal.”
As she opened the door and waved him through, she said, “You’re not letting me do anything. Let’s be clear about that.”
Arguing was getting him nowhere, so he held his tongue and stepped past Snow onto her tiny porch. Once outside, a wave of pure satisfaction washed over him. Caleb waited at the bottom of the steps for Snow to lock the door. When she turned, reality struck. The look on her face was priceless.
They
’d left her car in town the night before.
Caleb pulled his keys from his pocket, saying, “Good thing I brought these with me.” He held the passenger door for his wife, who climbed inside without a word. Not that he needed her to tell him what she was thinking. The tic of her jaw said it all.
Finally. He’d won a point.
Snow had never considered herself a competitive person, but the hint of even a minor defeat left a bitter taste in her mouth. She should have insisted on driving herself home the night before. Did he really think she’d lead him on a high-speed chase?
He probably never thought she’d disappear into thin air two months after their wedding, so maybe his suspicious nature was justified.
As the Brambleton house came into view, Snow realized they’d made the entire trip in comfortable silence. She’d been irritated when they’d left her place, but there was something calming about sitting next to Caleb. A sense of security, as if she could relax because she wasn’t on her own. That sense of feeling protected had been a big draw for her. Few men she’d come across in her life had carried the kind of confidence and strength that emanated from the man in the driver’s seat.
Maybe that was the problem. He made her feel too comfortable. If she let her guard down completely, and then everything fell apart, where would she be? And deep down, she knew things were bound to fall apart. Caleb was the very definition of too good to be true.
Except for his annoying little quirks. Like insisting on being the big man behind the wheel.
A crowd had already gathered on the front yard of the estate. The items would likely be auctioned from the front porch, but not until potential buyers had the chance to examine the merchandise. Snow almost hated to think of the items that way. These were likely family heirlooms. Pieces that had sentimental value to someone, and that had each absorbed the history of its owners. Sometimes she could look at a piece and a scene would unfold in her head.
Ladies drinking tea and sharing the latest gossip across a Seymour card table. A lonely little boy hugging his Steiff teddy bear as he watches his parents drive off to some society gathering. Or a teenage boy in the seventies huddled over his grandfather’s old Fender guitar with dreams of being the next Jimmy Page.