Keep My Heart (Top Shelf Romance Book 7)

by Lex Martin

  Her slender arms wrap around his neck, and she nuzzles him with her face. The moment is such a sweet one that it draws me closer. Allison never came back here. Never cared about the horses. Makes me wonder if things would’ve been different if she had. It’s not like I never invited her to see what I did. Would’ve loved to have her appreciate what my family and I spent our whole lives building.

  “What’s his name?” Tori asks, her eyes full of wonder and appreciation for the magnificent animal in her arms.

  Reaching behind his ear, I give him a good scratch. “Moves Like Mick Jagger, but I call him Mick.”

  “That’s a crazy name.” She slides her hands over him, a beautiful smile on her face.

  “You ride?” I’m wildly curious now given how comfortable she is petting Mick.

  “Nope.”

  Hmm. “Wanna learn?”

  Her bright eyes shift to mine. “Really?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  She bites that full lower lip. “You spend so much time with these guys. Why would you want to work more to show me how to ride?”

  The words come without thinking. “Because this doesn’t feel like work.” I’m not sure if I mean raising horses or the idea of teaching her what I do, but the answer is the same regardless.

  I don’t mean to check her out, but it’s hard not to notice her beauty or her warm amber eyes. Those rosy, flushed cheeks. Her teasing smile.

  Tori twists her long hair up into a top knot, and I can’t help appreciating her graceful neck.

  Which has me looking down her body, my pulse quickening from the generous curves of her breasts beneath the maddeningly snug tank top.

  I look away, not wanting to be that guy.

  A moment later, her voice draws my attention back to her.

  “Must be nice to have something you love so much.” A cool breeze blows through the barn, and she tilts her head and closes her eyes. “To have something that’s so a part of you, you feel it all the way down to the soles of your shoes.”

  “It’s fulfilling, for sure, and there’s nothing like teaching someone who loves horses how to ride.” It’s true. It’d be a damn delight to show her the ropes if she’s as interested in these guys as I think she is. Peeling off my baseball cap, I wipe the sweat off my forehead and put my baseball cap on backwards, so I can feel more of that breeze on my face. I lower my voice, so my children don’t overhear. “But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t stressful. Being here, doing this for my family, it’s a lot of pressure. As much as I love the ranch, I wish I could spend more time with my kids.”

  She studies my face, and those crazy golden eyes turn wistful. “You’re a good guy, Ethan Carter.”

  Her praise washes over me, and I’m almost speechless from the compliment. I open my mouth, but a shrill female voice interrupts.

  “Ethan, honey. Yoo-hoo!” Mallory struts through my barn even though I don’t have her down for a lesson today.

  The sweet, dreamy gaze in Tori’s eyes shutters faster than my brother drops his drawers on a Friday night.

  Mallory flutters up to us. “And who is this?” She eyeballs Tori up and down, but Tori gives her a small smile.

  “I’m nobody. Just the nanny. I’ll get out of your hair so you guys can work.” With a quick wave, she wrangles the kids and is out the door before Mallory’s claws fully extend.

  After I get my client out of my hair, I’m still thinking about Tori and how she made us lunch. Apparently, my brother is too.

  He elbows me when I reach for the leftover cookies in my desk.

  “Maybe you don’t need to head out to find yourself a little hookup.” He wiggles his fingers around his head. “Because the sparks were flying around here earlier with you and your new employee.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I grunt. “You and I both know I have too much on my plate right now to entertain anything like that.”

  But sometimes, I wish I didn’t.

  Tori

  Even with my bedroom door closed, I can hear the kids in the kitchen. The way their dad talks sweetly to them. His deep voice. Their laughter.

  Part of me—a big part of me—wants to go out there and enjoy dinner with them, but after we had lunch in the barn with Ethan and his brother, I don’t need more opportunities to see Ethan with his children. To see how much he adores them. How hard he works to provide for them. How much he wants to spend time with them.

  Lucky kids.

  Wish I could’ve seen my dad in the middle of the day like that. Laughed with my sister so easily when we were young. The thought makes my stomach ache.

  I’m not sure who that woman in the barn was, but she gazed at Ethan like he was a prized stallion she wanted to mount, with or without the audience. I’m surprised she didn’t lean over and lick him to show ownership.

  No amount of sexy ruggedness is enough to get me interested in a guy who might be involved elsewhere.

  Never mind that he’s still married.

  Yeah, complicated.

  I’ll stick to my single lifestyle, thank you very much.

  The best distraction just so happens to live a few miles down the road.

  I pick up my phone and call my sister. Ten minutes later, I jump in Kat’s truck, and we head to her house.

  “Hey, preggo. How’s your baby bun?” She can barely fit behind the wheel. How does she still have two months left to go? My vag hurts when I think about that delivery.

  “Kickin’ up a storm. I almost peed my pants earlier today, and my back hurts like a mother.”

  “Ooooh. Look at you almost curse.” I love teasing my sister. She’s always such a saint. Saint Katherine. I almost snort at my old nickname for her.

  “Are you settling in at the ranch? How’s your room?”

  I think about the pale blue paint with white trim and the neat bookshelf that’s been alphabetized. The lovely curtains that were obviously sewed with love and care, and the colorful quilt that covers the cushy queen-sized bed.

  “It’s perfect.” I avoid telling her about the corner of my room where my shit explodes out of my suitcase. “Like the rest of the house. Spacious.”

  Stunning. A dream house, really. A wrap-around porch with a swing and potted plants. Five bedrooms and three and a half baths. A fantastic kitchen with tons of gleaming counter space and every appliance imaginable. Big, comfy couches that make me itch to have a Netflix marathon.

  My sister motions to me. “Ethan added a whole addition. Did a ton of work himself. Well, him and his brother. The east side of the house, I think.”

  Pregnancy has made her spacey, because she was there when Beverly told us that Ethan had done those renovations. “Yeah, I’ve heard those Carter boys are good with their hands.”

  I’m looking forward to something breaking around the house so I can watch Ethan fix it. Hopefully while shirtless.

  She glances at me. “Don’t keep me in suspense. How are things going? Is Ethan still getting on your nerves?”

  My sister knows I can be a snarky bitch sometimes.

  “No, Ethan’s a great guy.” Too great maybe. I fill my lungs with a deep breath and decide to come clean. “Actually, I’m trying not to like him.”

  “Oh.” A beat passes. “Oh! Well, what’s wrong with that? He’s single and has his act together.”

  Unlike me.

  She looks thrilled at this prospect.

  “No, he’s not single. He’s in the middle of a divorce. His words, not mine.” I fiddle with a loose thread on my tank top. “Plus, he has ‘rebound’ stamped all over him.”

  If that experience with Jamie taught me anything, it’s that guys like Ethan don’t settle down with girls like me. I’m a fun fuck. A good time. A way to burn off steam or sow some wild oats. Not a forever girl. Not someone you keep.

  Regret weighs in my heart. How I wish I hadn’t invested so much of myself in that relationship.

  Ripping off the loose thread, I suddenly wish I could go back to Austin. “Ethan needs to
play the field, get laid, get over his wife, and I don’t want to be just a hookup. I’m not in the mood to be the rebound.”

  It doesn’t escape me that Ethan has photos of his wife everywhere. I wish I could say Allison is ugly, but she’s not. She has a button nose and one of those cute pixie haircuts, which makes her gorgeous blonde hair look feather-soft. I toy with the ends of my hair, lamenting the split ends, but a haircut requires money I don’t have.

  Kat rubs her belly. “I think all those rosaries Mom says for you are paying off. Listen to you, wanting something more substantial.”

  I roll my eyes as she laughs, but I’m glad she doesn’t pick up on my glum mood. I’m here to soak up her happiness. I’m here to mask the fact that I wish I were at dinner with Ethan and his kids. I’m here because I don’t want to think about how he looked at me in the barn when we were standing so close or the fact that Miss Prissy Pants earlier is probably riding him in his free time.

  It’s easy for me to think Ethan looked disappointed when I told him I wasn’t joining him and the kids this evening.

  Except I know that’s my head playing tricks on me.

  Because guys like him don’t do long-term with girls like me.

  I might as well get used to that idea.

  Ethan

  Every day, I listen to the delighted sounds of my children playing in the backyard, squealing and laughing as they buzz around Tori. Her laugh carries too, a note or two below theirs, but just as dazzling.

  But the moment I’m cleaned up after work and head into the kitchen, Tori quiets and scurries off to her room, leaving me with a piping-hot dinner on the stove and the table set for three.

  And my kids? All they do is talk about Tori. How fun she is. How she colors with them and plays pretend. How she gives them little tasks while she’s cooking so they stay busy. Snap the peas. Wash the carrots. Organize the Tupperware. And they love it. They love feeling useful. Mila tells me that Cody attaches himself to Tori’s leg half the time while she’s in the kitchen, and she lets him. Talks to him. Explains what she’s doing, and the kid listens—or tries to. It’s like she’s a goddamn baby whisperer.

  Don’t get me started about her meals. They’re delicious.

  I feel guilty as hell for enjoying them without her.

  It’s maddening. It shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t care what she does with her evenings. In fact, I told her she was free to do as she pleased when I was done working each day, but it bothers me that she seems to be going out of her way to avoid me.

  We haven’t had lunch together again either. Just that first day. Now she packs the food and sends Mila in with the picnic basket to drop it off while she waits at the entrance of the barn with Cody. Or the kids come to eat with me while she starts dinner.

  All week. She avoids me all week.

  By Friday, I’ve had enough. After I get the kids to bed, I knock on her bedroom door.

  “Come in.”

  She’s sprawled across the bed with her arm over her face. Her hair is wet and she’s wearing those tiny sleep shorts and another tank top. She does one of those cat-like stretches, and I ignore the throb in my groin when the fabric of her shirt pulls up to display the taut skin on her smooth stomach.

  You’re not here to ogle her, douchebag. I make a point to focus on her face.

  “Hey. Wanted to thank you for dinner. Best brisket I’ve had in ages, but don’t tell my mom your food is better than hers.”

  Tori sits up slowly and gives me a hesitant smile. “No prob.”

  Those bright eyes study me. At least she’s not looking away.

  Say something.

  “It’s Friday night. No big plans?”

  She hums. “I’m not really in the mood to beg any of my friends to drive this far to pick me up for a night of cheap beer and loud music.”

  “You can borrow my truck anytime.”

  A shadow passes over her, but in a flash, it’s gone. “I’d feel weird asking.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Her slender shoulders shrug. “Still.”

  Leaning against her doorframe, I cross my arms. “You always this stubborn?”

  That smile returns, and it hits me in the sternum. “Yeah. Get used to it.”

  There it is. There’s the fire she hosed me down with the first time we met.

  I chuckle and slip my hands into my pockets. “Since you’re too good to drive my truck and too cool to eat dinner with us, how about keeping me company while I watch the end of the Rangers game? You like baseball? I have two pints of Ben & Jerry’s, and I’m willing to share in exchange for conversation with someone who isn’t my sibling or child.”

  Her eyes lower. “I shouldn’t, but thanks for the offer.”

  Here we go again. “Can I ask you something? Did I offend you?” Those golden eyes, wide and surprised, meet mine. “Because you’ve been doing your damnedest to avoid me since lunch earlier this week.”

  After a long pause, she sighs. “I’m doing you a favor.”

  “How do you figure?”

  She doesn’t answer right away, until I give her an exasperated look, and she sighs again. “I’m staying out of your way. This is your house, and I know you’re not used to having a stranger around.”

  I frown. “You’re not a stranger. Well, not anymore. And I feel like a giant ass enjoying your cooking without you joining us. I mean, it’s fine if you’re sick of me and my kids and need some space—”

  “I’m not sick of your kids. Not at all.”

  It pains me to think of what she’s not saying. “Okay, so then… just sick of me?” I dig deep for the next words. “Do you still think I’m a dick? I know I’m not always the nicest guy or the most patient, but—”

  “Shut up. I’m not sick of you either. And you’re not a dick, okay?” Rolling her eyes, she gets up in a huff and stomps over. Without shoes, she’s tiny, barely coming up to my shoulders. I’m thinking Tinkerbell’s gonna shove me out of her room and slam the door in my face when she grabs my arms and turns me. “I’ll watch anything with you but the Rangers, okay?”

  I smile as she manhandles me out of her room. “How about the Cubs? They’re playing the Dodgers.” This close, I can smell the coconut fragrance of her shampoo.

  “Fine.”

  After I find the game on TV, I collect the ice cream and two spoons, drop down next to Tori on the couch, and hand her a spoon. “Chocolate Cherry Garcia or Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough?”

  “Chocolate Cherry, please.”

  “Here ya go, m’lady.”

  I adjust the volume on my flatscreen and settle in. I’m about to pat myself on the back for getting her to relax when she moans, and my dick sits up and takes notice.

  Reflexively, I turn toward her and immediately wish I hadn’t.

  The look on her face is pure ecstasy. Her eyes are closed as she wraps her lips around the spoon and moans. Again.

  Throb. Throb. Throb.

  Fuck.

  Reaching down, I yank my jeans at the knees to make more room and stretch the hem of my t-shirt out before I strategically place the ice cream over my erection.

  What the fuck? I glare down at my lap, wondering how the hell I’m sporting spontaneous wood when I’ve barely noticed a woman in the last two years, much less popped a boner around one like a horny teenager.

  “This,” she mumbles around a bite, “is sooo good. Thank you.”

  “Welcome.” I muster a grunt.

  We eat in silence while the Cubs get their asses kicked. C’mon, guys.

  The tension in my shoulders finally starts to ease, which is when I remember the phone call this afternoon.

  “I heard from the babysitting agency this afternoon.”

  “Oh?” She stills next to me.

  “They told me I was shit outta luck. That no one wants to come out this far, but they’ll keep me posted if something changes.”

  “They did not say you were ‘shit outta luck.’” She makes this little sound in the back
of her throat.

  Laughing, I shrug. “No, but you get the gist.” I look over at her hesitantly. “So what do you say? Think you could stay on longer? I know we initially said we’d start with two weeks to see how things went, but I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

  Her eyes soften, and she gazes into her ice cream like it holds all the answers. Please say yes.

  “I might have someone interested in subletting my place, so… maybe?”

  “Maybe is better than no, so I’ll take maybe. What if I promise unlimited Ben & Jerry’s?”

  She gives me a shy smile. “Giving me the hard sell, huh?”

  I try not to think about all the hard things I’d love to give her. “Just keep me posted about your apartment situation. I’d hate to lose you.”

  See, I can keep things professional.

  The room quiets as we return to the baseball game. She keeps making those eager noises as she eats her ice cream. I can’t decide if giving her Ben & Jerry’s is the best idea I’ve ever had or the worst as I try to ignore how much those sounds remind me of sex.

  Christ. Maybe I do need to get out more, but I’d rather endure my mother’s henpecking knitting circle than go on a blind date.

  A few minutes later, Tori closes up the pint and relaxes back. “I practically ate the whole thing. Guess I didn’t realize I was that hungry.”

  “What’d you eat for dinner?” I know she made me brisket, but what did she eat?

  She shrugs and doesn’t answer.

  “Tori.” I wait until she looks at me. “What did you eat?” I study her again, realizing she looks thinner than she did last week. If she’s on some dumb diet when she’s already a beautiful woman, we’re gonna have words.

  “PB and J.”

  That’s not the answer I want to hear. “Why didn’t you have a real dinner? Some brisket? You made enough to feed an army.” Roasted corn and summer squash. Fresh-baked rolls. Homemade cookies. It was ridiculous. Ridiculously delicious. But the leftovers barely fit in my fridge.

  She shakes her head—at me, at herself, I’m not sure. “I’m going to my sister’s this weekend.”