“I tried to talk to Allan today.”
But that was too much. Mitch grabbed for patience. “About Cassidy?”
“No, the weather.” Spence scoffed. “Of course, Cassidy.”
“Want to tell me why you thought you needed to stick yourself in the middle of this?”
“Well, she’s trespassing on my property and has you tied in knots. Seemed like stepping in was the smart thing to do.”
“I’ve got this under control.”
“Haven’t seen your common sense this twisted up since Susan.”
Hearing his ex’s name tore through Mitch. She no longer had a hold on him like she once had, but the way she’d dumped him had left a well of anger he struggled to control. When other women walked into his life, he measured them by how close they came to Susan. Not that he wanted to duplicate her. It was the exact opposite. He vowed to bolt rather than walk down that road a second time.
With Cassidy he didn’t see Susan. On the surface, yeah. They both wanted out of Holloway at some point in their lives and craved something bigger from life. But the similarities ended there.
“This has nothing to do with Susan,” he said, knowing the truth of the comment as he spoke.
“You sure?”
“I’ve dated other women since Susan left.”
Spence mumbled something. “So you are dating Cassidy?”
Damn. “Don’t twist my words.”
Spence glanced at the ground as he moved some gravel around under his shoe. When he looked up again, a new determination filled every inch of his face. “There’s a lot of talk about Cassidy and how she treated Allan.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Mitch hated that part. The woman he’d sat with at the diner and listened to at her mother’s grave was not spoiled or uncaring like the gossip portrayed her. The public story and the private pieces he’d put together didn’t match at all. He believed her but stray suspicions still bombarded him.
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
Spence meant well. Mitch knew that. “Trust me.”
“My problem isn’t with you.”
“You’ve made that clear.”
Spence nodded. “Good.”
* * *
Later that night Cassidy paced the loft area of the log cabin. Her bare feet padded against the hardwood floor as Mitch’s borrowed T-shirt swished around the top of her thighs. Darkness loomed outside the window by her double bed, but for the first in a long time she was inside, safe and cozy warm.
They’d shared a mouthwatering homemade steak dinner and relaxed at opposite ends of the huge sectional sofa after while some mindless show she’d never seen before played on the television. The evening showed her she could add cooking, good host and nice taste in houses to his already impressive list of positive qualities.
Sure, he hadn’t said much. Just sat there, flexing his fingers and flipping channels as soon as the first sound of a commercial dared come on. Nothing wrong with that since almost an hour of searching her brain for smart conversation had failed. She blamed his faded jeans and the navy tee he’d stripped down to after dinner. A woman could only handle so much hotness before she broke and Cassidy had reached the snapping point.
All that fighting off attraction earlier made her hungry now. He’d declared his kitchen hers for the length of her stay and, well, that ice cream she’d spied in the freezer just begged for a big spoon.
She peered over the loft railing. Mitch had gone to his room over an hour ago. A nightlight in the kitchen cast a soft glow across the open family room below. She could see every inch except the part right below her. Empty and just begging for a snack run.
Moving as quietly as possible, she placed one foot on the ladder rung then the other. The wood creaked but she kept going. She was halfway down when the buzzing started in her ears. She hesitated, trying to figure out if she’d tuned into the hum of the refrigerator and listened for another explanation. Since silence continued to sweep through the room, she chalked the internal noise up to an ice cream craving and went one more step.
Then she felt him. She ducked her head and peeked into the office space under the loft. Instead of a desk and bookshelves, she came face-to-face with Mitch. Make that face-to-incredible-bare-chest.
“Uh, hi.” She wrapped her fingers around the sides of the ladder in a death grip that made her palms ache.
He didn’t say a word. Just stood there with the water bottle partway to his mouth and his heated gaze stuck on her legs.
She lowered a hand and snapped her fingers. “Mitch?”
He blinked for what looked like a thousand times. Didn’t say anything, but at least his eyesight leveled out to about her neck. The dropped mouth didn’t close.
“I was getting a snack,” she said.
“I was thirsty.” His first uttered words came out slow with beats of silence between them.
“Should I go back upstairs?” She should run. A smart woman would stop this madness before it blossomed into something she couldn’t control. Then again, no one in Holloway viewed her as being all that bright. “Mitch?”
“You should get off the ladder before you fall.”
She stood about three feet off the ground, but decided not to point out she could jump and not even make a sound. Without another word, she climbed down, sighing in relief when her toes hit the floor again. Since seeing his face, her muscles jumped and her stomach took off in a wild spin, so being on stable ground seemed like a good idea.
But he still looked a bit iffy, kind of frozen and confused. “Are you okay?”
He hadn’t lowered his water bottle yet. “I thought you were asleep.”
Talking was good. Easy banter might break whatever trance held him so still. Not that she was looking. Heck, she was trying hard not to look but only an idiot would miss the flat stomach. And he had that sexy male thing with the pronounced collarbone that was entirely too lickable.
Yeah, this living together plan was a bad idea.
Rather than search her brain for something intelligent to say, she let the babble come out unfiltered. “I have to get used to a bed again.”
His eyebrows rose. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve been sleeping on the hard ground. A mattress always feels odd at first.” Because that sounds normal.
“Really?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from wincing. “It sounds weird, right?”
“A little.”
A hard breath left her body. “It’s just that—”
“But kind of endearing.”
It was her turn to freeze. “Really?”
A sexy smile spread across his lips, complete with dimple and rows of perfect white teeth. “You are the toughest woman I know.”
That sounded like he viewed her as another guy. How incredibly…not flattering. “Is that a good thing?”
“Of course.” Those blue eyes narrowed. “Did I offend you?”
Not the right word, but something about his supposed compliment had her insides grumbling. “Every now and then a woman likes to think of herself as…you know, girlie.”
“Oh, you are all woman.” His gaze slid over the T-shirt, down to her thighs. “I’d be happy to compliment you on everything I see.”
She glanced down, stunned at how her shirt seemed to shrink as she stood there. The top cleared the important parts, but just barely. Then there was the memory that slapped her out of nowhere. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. She’d washed out her three pairs and had them drying on the windowsill above.
Oh my God.
With that little piece of news, she put one foot over the other, bringing her thighs together. She wasn’t naked, but close.
“I should probably go to bed.” Her voice sounded breathy in her head.
“Are you sure?”
There it was. The invitation. He dropped the decision at her feet and it took every ounce of strength inside her not to bend down and scoop it up.
�
��Yeah. I’ll just—” She tried to squeeze by him and their bodies touched. She didn’t even know they’d gotten that close.
His breath brushed across her hair and his hand landed on her hip. “Okay.”
Was it? “I’m trying to be smart here.”
He leaned in, his mouth hovering over hers. “You ever think maybe you could let your brain rest for a second and have your body take over.”
The heat from his body seeped into hers. “Ever since I met you.”
“When you decide to let that happen, you let me know.”
“Until then?”
His gaze searched her face as his finger traced the outline of her lips. “I’ll be waiting.”
Just as she leaned in, he pulled back. After a quick squeeze of his hand against her waist he was off. She watched him walked down the hall and wondered how she’d make it through the first night without going to him.
Water. She needed water. Preferably ice-cold water.
She walked into the kitchen. The note on the counter stopped her. Her fingers circled the cell phone sitting there as her gaze went to the bold print.
For your safety.
She traced her finger over the words and the number printed next to it. The phone beeped as she turned it on. A scroll through the contacts showed numbers for the nursery, Mitch, Allan, Travis, Spencer, the house, Mitch’s office and Darla.
Her heart flipped over as she glanced at his closed bedroom door. She’d have to be the one to make a move. He talked about her being strong. She hoped that was true.
Chapter Nine
The second night with Cassidy at his house was worse than the first. If someone had told him that could happen, Mitch would have moved her into a hotel. Last night she’d made it clear she wasn’t ready for much other than a warm bed without him in it. Accidentally scaring her at the bottom of the stairs probably had something to do with that.
The way his T-shirt fell to the top of her thighs. He could see everything—everything—she hid under there. No underwear. Just a shadow and bare skin and a hint of blond hair. Man, he’d replayed that part of the scene in his head about a million times during the day, only in his version she skipped slipping on the shirt before coming downstairs to him. He didn’t know if she realized the show she’d given him, but he wouldn’t soon forget it.
And those lean legs, so perfect he’d lost the power of speech. It had taken every ounce of will to keep from running his fingers up her thighs and welcoming her to his house the way he burned to do. Despite the sleepless night and cold shower, he went to work and kept his roommate news quiet, which meant ducking Spence and his questions all day. While he was out, Cassidy cleaned and planted flowers in the boxes on his porch. Every surface shined when he walked in the door that night.
The idea was for her to relax and decompress before hitting the work trail again. Now he knew her idea of resting differed from his. But having food on the table when he opened the front door? Yeah, he could get used to that. No wonder Austin enjoyed married life so much. Of course, Carrie didn’t cook, so there might be another reason.
Mitch had never viewed himself as a traditional guy but this was one aspect from his parents’ marriage he could get used to. The seething hatred and quiet wish to be somewhere else were the parts he didn’t want.
Two hours after sharing dish duties he sat on the couch and stared at the television for the second night, this time pretending to watch the football game. The crowd cheered and the announcer’s voice rose in excitement, but Mitch missed it all. None of it went in.
“Do you miss it?” she asked.
He stopped fighting the refusal to look at her. “College?”
She sat curled in a ball in his oversized chair in a crunched-up position only women could manage. The pair of too-big sweatpants and long-sleeved tee swamped her. The ponytail and shiny clean face made her look younger than twenty-seven.
Not that his body got lost on those details. To his way of thinking she was all woman.
He held a pillow on his lap to keep from scaring the shit out of her. His attraction burned through him. He hadn’t even tasted the food she put in front of him at dinner tonight. The relaxed chatter and pretty face had him at two cold showers a day, and it was only day two. By the end of the weekend he’d be begging for mercy and babbling like a fool.
“Football,” she said. “I remember you were going to be a star.”
Part of him was surprised she knew about his athletic career at all. He’d never seen her as a school-spirit type. “I had some talent but I blew out my knee as a sophomore in college. Lost my scholarship for the last two years and had to scramble to get loans to stay in.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“You were busy with other things.”
“Still, I’m surprised my mom didn’t say something. She was always a big fan of yours. Of football, in general.” Cassidy leaned her head against the back of the chair. “I think I disappointed her when I skipped cheerleading in favor of climbing. She said she wanted a reason to go to the games without looking like a dirty old woman.”
“It’s not something I talk about.” Ever. His career ended and so did the dream. Rather than obsess, he mentally packed it away and stepped back.
Football had given him a bond with his dad, provided a reason for his parents to cheer for something together. They were good people, and pretty good parents, but a terrible couple. In public they laughed and gushed about their kids. They talked about places they might go some day and smiled with friends. In private, the house creaked from the silence. Dissatisfaction oozed out of mom for not having taken a different road and their dad had long ago hid behind a wealth of guy weekends to escape the house.
Whatever love they once shared, if at all, when they had to get married to cover his mom’s pregnancy with him had long ago burned out. By the time Mitch and Carrie were old enough to pick up the cues, the deep divide was too obvious to ignore. Even now people would talk about their parents and their solid marriage and he had to keep his response to a nod.
“Why?” Cassidy asked.
Lost in his thoughts, he dropped the thread of the conversation. “What?”
Cassidy laced her fingers through the fringe of the pillow his sister Carrie bought for him last Christmas. She called it a throw pillow. The fancy name sounded stupid to him. He called it the perfect size to wedge beneath his shoulders when lying down to watch television.
“Why won’t you talk about it?”
Mitch didn’t pretend confusion. He knew what Cassidy was asking. “Being injured sucked. It ended my football career, and I really wanted one. I wasn’t exactly an academic scholar but I graduated because I wanted to have a job someday.”
“Did you get a hero’s welcome when you came back to Holloway?” She smiled as she said the words.
“Hardly.”
“Really?”
“Trust me. I was there.”
Her fingers froze and her head lifted until her gaze met his. “What are you not saying?”
He shouldn’t be saying anything. None of this shit mattered now. He was a grown man who refused to live through victories of the past. He’d seen friends from school do that, never letting go. It struck him as pathetic. More than anything, he didn’t want to be that guy.
Still, she asked and it festered, so he let it out. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but the town only had enough energy to cheer for one person. The people here put all their hopes on you. My career and future prospects at West Virginia didn’t hit the radar screen.”
She sat straight up. “How is that possible? This town bleeds Mountaineer blood.”
He had to smile at the memory of the university mascot. “Everyone followed along on your climbs. Except me. I stopped listening because the idea of you making your goal when I tanked mine ticked me off.” He shook his head at the memory of what an ass he’d been. “I was a hormonal moron back then, so I apologize.”
In a gentle glide, her sto
cking feet hit the floor one after the other. “I’m thinking you’ve been holding onto that anger for some time now.”
“I’m not angry.”
“Mitch, come on. At least be honest about it.” She leaned forward with her hands joined in a knot so tight that the blood drained from her fingers. “You have a right to feel cheated. You were cheated. The question is if any of that bitterness is aimed at me.”
“Of course not.” It had taken him longer than he wanted to admit, until well after graduation, to realize his frustration revolved around her but had never been aimed at her. “Back then I blamed the coach and the kid on the other team who hit me and the injury that ended my career.”
“That’s probably normal.”
“I doubt it.” He shook his head. “Told you I was a dick. But I got over it. I figured out shit happens and you move on.”
“If I were you, I’d be pissed.”
After thinking about all the ways they were different and throwing them up as excuses not to touch her, he circled around to the one way in which they were very much alike. “I’m not the only one who lost everything to injury. You didn’t stop climbing because you got lazy.”
She sighed. “I didn’t really stop climbing at all.”
“But I thought—”
She got up and moved to the seat next to him on the couch. Their bodies touched from legs to arms as she turned to face him. “The acute altitude sickness came on during the ascent of Broad Peak, my third mountain. I had to come down, wait it out, take meds. I eventually conquered it, but I was so sick. Crazed with a headache and dizziness. Going back up was stupid and unsafe, but I had these sponsors to satisfy.”
He read about the costs associated with climbing. “Money obligations.”
“Exactly. The doctors I saw after assured me it was an aberration. I’d never had any trouble before and had been climbing since I was a teen. Everest was my first of the fourteen-mountain odyssey and had gone okay except for the horrible weather conditions on the descent and the death of two climbers on other teams due to an avalanche. Lhotse was strangely uneventful. Broad Peak came next. Then I tried Annapurna and I thought my lungs would explode.”
Lean on Me Page 8