Foolin'

by Allyson Young

  “Carter.” She put her hand on his cheek, his stubble rasping against her palm. “I prefer action flicks. Or mystery. Car chases and things blowing up are good. I’d prefer no horror and not too much up-close and personal bloodshed.”

  He leaned into her with relief. “I thought I was going to have to fake my way through something sucky and not fall asleep.”

  She figured he might fall asleep anyhow but left him to choose some old movie about a guy transporting something illegal across the country in a slick, black car. She anticipated a stoic, skilled hero and lots of stunts, and wasn’t disappointed.

  Carter stayed present with her for a while, the two of them cuddled together on the big leather couch in front of a huge television set. He lit a small fire in the beautiful fireplace, and she could have watched that all night, sitting right beside him.

  When he sagged, his head on her shoulder, she coaxed him into lying down and spooned into him, his hard chest and abdomen flush to her back. The couch was deep enough to hold them in that fashion without her feeling she might slip to the floor—if the solid band of his arm would allow it.

  With the heat of the fire, she was drowsy and comfortable, aware he was fast asleep. She made it through to the end of the movie, conceding the hero was handsome and skilled at his craft, but much preferring the man at her back. It was going to sting to say goodbye to him.

  “Carter?” She tried to escape his arm.

  “Hmmm?” He muttered into her hair and tightened his grip. His buckle was going to leave a permanent mark on her buttock.

  “Can you wake up?” The fire was going out, and the room was cooling.

  “Kathleen?” He took them both to a sitting position, her hips sliding along the cushion, half on and half off his lap. “What time is it?”

  A tousled-haired, bleary-eyed Carter was adorable. She caught a glimpse of what he must have looked like as a little boy. She wondered if his son resembled him or his mother. That was a curiosity she’d never satisfy. There were no pictures anywhere that she’d seen, other than a few of him with his birth family. She was in no position to remark on it and wished she hadn’t taken notice.

  “It’s probably around ten. We should head up to bed. You likely have to get up at five again tomorrow.”

  “Six. Though I should have tended to paperwork tonight, so maybe five.” He winced. “Sorry. Some kind of host I am.”

  “No worries. I was in your office, looking for your email. You’re drowning there too, huh?”

  “Yup. But we only have tonight and a few hours tomorrow on the drive.”

  Her heart sank. She didn’t want to think about that. Lots of things she didn’t want to think about. “Why don’t you see what you can do with the paperwork now if you’re rested enough? I’ll go up to bed.” She had no idea which bed to climb into, suddenly shy.

  “I can do that. Let you get some rest. Or I can head up with you and wear you out, so you sleep real well, and I’ll get up earlier tomorrow.”

  Her ambivalence vanished. “Well, if you put it like that.”

  He pulled her to her feet with him and, turning her, patted her ass. “Head up and do whatever women do before bed, darlin’. I’ll do the rounds here and be up shortly.”

  She knew he didn’t lock the doors, but figured the rounds meant ensuring things were turned off and such. “Don’t you have a dog?”

  “Old Jasper died. A great cattle dog and all around watchdog. He was damn good company. I might get another as soon as I find time to source out a litter.”

  She hurt for the man who lacked even a dog for company and was going to take advantage of the time he was carving out for her. With what she hoped was a sultry smile, she sashayed her way to the stairs, working it, and hid a laugh at his curse.

  Chapter Seven

  They made their way through an egg casserole dish, a recipe her mom had taught her, and supported by a coil-ring book of handwritten recipes that belonged to Carter’s mother.

  He’d risen early, as promised, to work in his office, stealing out of bed with a sweet kiss, and she’d woken later but at her usual time. He’d delivered on his promise last night—the man was a machine—and she’d slept the sleep of the dead. Or the well … fucked. She didn’t normally use crude words, but nothing else really fit.

  Nothing fancy, a little foreplay, and then he’d done her. Hard and unrelentingly until she’d screamed her way through two orgasms and shuddered through another before darn near passing out.

  There’d been no sign of the hands when she came downstairs, wearing yesterday’s clothes, though freshly showered. Carter was so immersed in his office, she’d made coffee and breakfast in time to feed the men, and he hadn’t even noticed.

  But when she’d rapped on the door frame, he’d snapped out of his focus and turned it on her. Like the heat of the sun.

  “I’m caught up,” he announced over a second cup of coffee. “We can do whatever you like for a couple of hours and then hit the road.”

  She could hardly believe she was thinking it, but sex was on the back burner. She might be limping a little. Spending time alone with him outside of sex held considerable allure in any event.

  “That sounds great.”

  “Josh’ll be back to clean up and put together lunch. There’s plenty of food.” His shrug conveyed a clear message that he didn’t much care what the guys ate.

  “I could—”

  “Nope. If you want, you can prepare a picnic. We’ll take the horses out and find a spot to enjoy the great outdoors. I know lots of them.”

  “I don’t think I can do that.”

  His eyes narrowed, hiding what she suspected was hurt. Or disappointment. “Okay.”

  “I don’t think I can ride Becky today.”

  His demeanor instantly changed. He smirked, then clearly thought better of it. “The ATV is probably out then, too.”

  She didn’t think she wanted to spread her legs over any surface of any sort. “It’s out.”

  “We’ll drive. Picnic on the way to the city. Take the secondary roads and play tourist. You said you haven't been out of the city.”

  It sounded pretty great. “Perfect. I’ll go get my things together.”

  “Do that, but I’ll bring your case down.”

  She managed not to sigh like a Victorian heroine. She was quite capable of carrying her own luggage, and he knew that. But he’d carry it for her. So sweet.

  “Okay. Go do whatever you need to do. Boss your men around. Give me an hour.”

  With another one of his proprietary kisses, he strode out, leaving the house far too quiet and empty.

  After she packed, she cruised the kitchen and tried to find something that might resemble the ingredients for a picnic lunch. There were loaves of bread in the big freezer and some tins of mystery meat in the pantry. Soup, canned stew, a suspect tin of salmon. She set that aside for the barn cats before chucking it. Didn’t want to even think about making one of the critters sick.

  Her cholesterol would go through the roof, but she ended up boiling eggs and mashing them while a sheet pan of thumbprint cookies baked.

  They cooled as she made sandwiches and stuffed them into plastic bags, then spooned some jam into the divot on the top of the cookies. A rigid plastic container held the sweets, and she found a thermos for some sweet tea. She was just adding napkins and some paper cups when Carter came back in.

  At the look on his face, she quailed. Their picnic lunch appeared in jeopardy.

  He said, “Merry called again and is leaning on me to bring you over.”

  She closed the sack holding the food and aligned it on the counter with the thermos. “Tell her I have to get back.”

  “She’s damn persistent and ladling guilt.” He shrugged. “She’s a great gal, though.”

  Darn it. She really didn’t want to share a minute of their remaining time together. “Look. If you think it’ll impact your relationship if I refuse, we’ll go. Maybe just for a few minutes and then
get going?”

  He studied her. “You’d rather not. She was kind of under the influence Friday night.”

  “It’s not that. Under other circumstances, I’d like to meet her and Deke again. Meet your nephews. But I’ll be back in the city, and you’ll be here, and it seems pointless. They’re your family.”

  His face tightened. “You mean you’d rather not meet my family.”

  “I mean I don’t want to give up any time I can spend with you before I never see you again.” When had she started to raise her voice? The silence was suddenly shocking.

  “Whoa.” He tipped his hat back, and his forehead furrowed. “I’ve been trying not to think about how we live separate lives. It hasn’t seemed like that since we met, you know?”

  “I know. I haven’t let myself think about it either. But it’s reality.”

  He nodded, but then said, “It’s like you’ve always been here. You fit right in.”

  She felt it too. But surely that was just the crazy chemistry overwhelming common sense. “So?”

  “So we’ll hit the road, and Merry will live with our decision.”

  He carried down her case and took it and the picnic lunch out to the truck. She was left to manage the thermos, relieved and relaxed at the way he’d done the right thing. Another truck, a smaller version of the one she clambered into, sat dusty and somehow forlorn beside them.

  “It’s the spare truck. Doesn’t get used much.”

  A spare truck. It occurred to her that Carter was financially well off. Quite well off. She hadn’t considered that in the flurry of activity over the weekend. Her esteem of him rose further. He somehow kept things going despite the odds and made a good living at it. All the same, she was glad she hadn’t known that until now. She got by, but she wasn’t close to being in his league.

  True to his word, he took a number of different roads, showing her some breathtaking sights and some fairly boring countryside. Whatever the scenery, she was content to be with him. They saw little other traffic, and when he pulled into a small park, complete with tables and restrooms, all was quiet.

  “Egg sandwiches!” He unpacked them with obvious pleasure. “I usually just fry an egg and slap it on some bread.”

  “They’re better with onion and celery, maybe some chopped peppers, but there isn’t a green vegetable in your house.”

  “They spoil,” he replied, handing her a sandwich. “Sometimes I bring stuff like that home and put it in the fridge, but it gets overlooked until I find the sloppy remains. Same with fruit, though if it’s on the table, a couple of the guys will take it.”

  It wasn’t her concern, so she dropped it, pouring them a glass of tea. They munched companionably, and he devoured the bulk of the cookies.

  “Did you leave any at home?”

  “I might have.”

  “Shit. There won’t be one left by the time I get there.”

  She refrained from pointing out he’d just eaten ten out of the dozen in the container, and hastily snagged the last.

  He called the ranch, checking in with George.

  “All good?” she asked, though she’d heard his side of the conversation.

  “Yep. But we’d better get on the road.”

  He consigned the remnants of their meal to the handy bins, tossing a crust to an inquisitive sparrow. She clutched the thermos, and they were on the way.

  The radio played quietly in the background as they chatted. She forced herself to engage with him, fighting the urge to distance herself and make the break before it was time.

  They covered tastes in music, politics—she was surprised to find they voted for the same party—favorite foods, and other date-type information. It felt ironic.

  Neither mentioned their spouses or children again. Kathleen could admit to a very real interest in the reason why Carter was divorced because she sensed he was deeply wounded. She suspected it had to do with his child’s death. That kind of terrible thing drove some couples apart.

  However, someone else would have to heal him. She turned her head to stare out the window, hiding her face, shocked at her temerity. And then stung by the thought of another woman—

  Her cell signaled a text, and she pulled it out of her purse, having left it in the truck during their picnic. Lisa had checked in this morning, and she hadn’t divulged her whereabouts to her daughter. The subterfuge should have bothered her, but it didn’t. She’d explore the reasoning behind that later.

  She literally felt the blood drain from her face when she saw her boss’s name. The message was short and sweet.

  Report to my office first thing tomorrow.

  “Something wrong?” Carter gave her a look of concern.

  “Reality caught up. My boss expects me to report first thing tomorrow.”

  “So, that Susan struck early.”

  “I guess she did. She and Mr. Johnson…” She should keep her mouth shut.

  “Let me think. An office romance.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he married?”

  She wasn’t going there. Mrs. Johnson was a nice woman, and she and her husband had elementary school-age children. “I’m not judging.”

  “Not even to save your job?” The truck hummed along, the rush of other vehicles in the lane beside them a whoosh of noise like the one in her head.

  “I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

  He was silent for a few minutes. “You’re a good person, Kathleen. I want to fix it for you.”

  Wasn’t that what men did? She made herself smile at him. “Thanks, but…”

  “Can we at least run some scenarios? I find it helps when I’ve got big decisions to make with the cattle.”

  She chuckled, despite her thoughts. “Is there a bull in the scenario in your opinion?”

  “I’m thinking not. It’s hard to have respect for a man who cheats on his wife and is led around by his dick, blind to other information. All because of a spiteful bitch. I feel responsible.”

  “Don’t.” She spoke more sharply than she intended. “I could have turned you down, not danced with you. I could have acted the consummate professional.”

  “Are you saying it’s your fault that Susan decided to try and trash your job? Because you agreed to dance with me?”

  “I should have known better than to trust her. That’s where the fault lies.”

  “Not being able to trust a colleague. That sucks.” He paused. “I shouldn’t be glad you didn’t turn me down.”

  She got a hold of herself. “Well, I don’t regret you. Us. I don’t. And I don’t even know what he wants. What he has to say.”

  “Maybe suggest he meet you today? Say you understand the seriousness of the situation you believe he’s referring to? Get a leg up on Susan. We’ll be in the city in under an hour.”

  If Susan wasn’t already in Mr. Johnson’s personal presence, bending his ear. “Let me think on it.”

  He respected her decision, and they rode in silence. As they neared the outskirts, she decided. She directed him to her house, and he followed her inside, toting her case.

  “Nice place.” He pulled off his boots as she toed off her sneakers.

  She viewed it through his eyes. It was a tiny bungalow in comparison to his place. Two bedrooms and a den. A living room and small dining area. A cramped kitchen that somehow housed all her baking efforts and attempts at creative dishes. Most of them on a tight budget after Samuel died and she’d been too proud to accept help from his family aside from a contribution to Lisa’s college fund.

  His life insurance had nearly paid off the mortgage on the house, and her independence had made her stand tall. She mostly ignored the fact the members of that family felt Sam had married below him, had even questioned the need to marry, despite the fact she was pregnant.

  All those hits to her heart she’d pretended didn’t matter crept back into being as she considered her current predicament. She tried to concentrate, get past the vulnerability.

  Carter was
peering at the wall of pictures in her living room. Some were of her parents and brother. A few of Samuel when they dated, their wedding, and tons of Lisa.

  He said, “You made a beautiful bride.”

  She’d been thinner then, more youthful, and Samuel thought she was beautiful. “Thanks.”

  “Your husband had a heart problem?”

  “Yes. He was taking a disposition and collapsed. It was some undetectable condition.” She knew what it was, of course, had memorized it and the spelling. Said it over and over to herself, as if it would have his loss make sense. “Lisa doesn’t even remember him, though I try to keep his memory alive for her.”

  She could tell he wanted to ask something, but he didn’t say a word, moving on to look at the progression of Lisa’s growth. “She’s beautiful.”

  “She is.” Lisa truly was beautiful. “And she has brains with that beauty. Third-year economics. She’s doing a four-year version. Next year, she’s going to Paris for the last semester to build her linguistic skills.”

  “Paris. Did she win a scholarship?”

  Another reason she needed to keep her position and not get demoted with a salary cut. “Nope. A bursary and she’s been working, putting money aside.”

  “Nice.” He looked back at the photos, but she sensed he’d seen right through to her worry.

  “I’m going to call Mr. Walker. If he takes my call, I’ll encourage him to meet with me today.”

  He didn’t nod in satisfaction that she’d agreed with his suggestion and she appreciated it. He said, “If he won’t, I’ll stay overnight and accompany you tomorrow.”

  He’d said he’d have her back. Told Susan he’d tell her boss what happened. Bear witness. “But the ranch?”

  “You’re more important than the ranch.”

  That couldn’t be true. “But—”

  He silenced her with a hard kiss, moving into her space with that quickness and grace that belied his size. “Call him. We’ll argue when we have something to argue about.”

  Her toes curled. She put her reaction to him away, nodded, and made her way to the den, taking a piece of paper from the sheaf on the desk. Carter gave her space, somehow knowing she needed it, and she rapidly wrote out her points in bullet form.