I Cross My Heart

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “Okay.” He let her go and followed her into the kitchen. “I knew this dinner thing was going to be a buzz kill. I’m sorry about— Hey! What the hell? You took out the linoleum!”

  She opened the freezer door and held out her hand for the bag. “I did.” She couldn’t resist a smile of triumph. “I only promised not to touch the carpet.”

  He gave her the ice cream. “Remind me to be more specific the next time I extract a promise from you under duress.”

  “I enjoyed the duress.”

  “Me, too, but if we keep talking about it, especially in sight of the kitchen table, we’ll never get the carpet out of here.” He crouched down and studied the newly revealed floor. “It looks great, Bethany. Thanks.” He stood. “But you should have waited for me.”

  “I couldn’t stand it. The house is starting to come alive, and I had to do something major to help it along. I had fun, if you must know. I’ve always hated that linoleum. Getting rid of it made me happy.”

  He laughed. “And happiness is a choice.”

  “Exactly! I chose to tear out that effing linoleum to bring myself a boatload of happiness. In fact, I was positively orgasmic after it was gone.” She winked at him. “Imagine how I’ll feel after we finish with the carpet.”

  “Wiped out is how you’ll feel. I’ll be lucky if I get a good-night kiss before you’re unconscious.”

  “That reminds me.” She opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a spare house key attached to a souvenir Yellowstone National Park key ring. It had been the one and only family vacation they’d ever taken. “You should have this.”

  “You’re sure? I’m not legally the owner yet.”

  “I know, but you’re as good as legal. This way when you leave tonight, if I’m as unconscious as you expect me to be, you can lock the regular lock and the dead bolt, too.”

  “Excellent thought.” He tucked the key in his pocket. “I did think of that last night, but fortunately the crime rate’s minimal around here. Still, I like the idea of locking you up good and tight.”

  “That sounded almost medieval. Are you a possessive man, Nash?”

  He gazed at her with those clear blue eyes. “When I have the right to be, yes, I am. But I have no rights where you’re concerned. That doesn’t mean I’m not concerned about your safety, though. Thanks for the key.”

  The sheer maleness of that statement sent a delicious shiver through her. She remembered when he’d almost called her his woman. She didn’t approve of that kind of talk, but that didn’t mean it didn’t get her hot. She blamed that on her cave-dwelling ancestors.

  “So.” He sent her a challenging glance. “Ready to rip some carpet?”

  “You know I am. I even unearthed another X-Acto knife.” After taking them out of a drawer, she handed one to him and started into the dining room. “I’ve been ready to slash that carpet ever since the guys who loaded up the furniture pulled out of the yard.”

  “I notice they didn’t take the recliner, though.”

  “They offered. Said they’d throw it in the dump for me. I wasn’t ready to part with it.” She hadn’t sorted out her emotions about the recliner yet. It represented both her first meeting with Nash and her troubled relationship with her dad. And her feelings about her dad were more complicated than she’d thought.

  “When you are ready to ditch it, let me know and it’ll be gone.” He surveyed the shadowy living room. “How are we going to see what we’re doing?”

  “Cover your eyes. There’s the ugliest overhead light in the world about to come on. It needs to be replaced with something more lovely, but for this job, it’s perfect.” She flicked a switch.

  “Damn.” He blinked in the harsh light. “We could perform surgery in here.”

  “We will.” She swept a hand over the stained carpet, which looked even worse in the overhead light with no furniture to distract the eye. “There’s our patient.”

  “Our patient is terminal.”

  “Then let’s pull the plug.” Dropping to her knees next to the spot where Morgan had started the process, she began to cut. “And we need to talk about this dinner.”

  “Yeah?” He’d chosen to work on the far side of the room, which was probably a wise decision since they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other when they were within touching distance.

  “You hinted that I might be meeting your mother. Will she be there?” Bethany hoped to hell not. She didn’t want to meet the mother of the guy she’d been boinking for fun with no thought of a commitment. In her experience, mothers took a dim view of such arrangements.

  “She wouldn’t miss it.”

  Bethany groaned. “She’s going to give me the third degree, isn’t she?”

  “Well, she did wonder how an intelligent woman could leave a great catch like me in favor of a career in Atlanta, but you have to remember she’s my mother. She thinks I hung the moon, the stars and all the planets.”

  Bethany was glad she was ripping up carpet because it helped relieve her growing anxiety. “I assume you didn’t tell her what I do in Atlanta.”

  “No, but to be fair, that might have helped her understand. She’s picturing you in some boring corporate job and can’t imagine why you’d prefer that when you could have a wonderful life in Jackson Hole and amazing sex with me.”

  “She said that?”

  “Not in so many words. But she’s not some little old lady who blushes at the mention of sex, and she’s fully convinced that we’re getting it on. She wondered if I called you Beth in our more intimate moments.”

  “Dear God.” Bethany pulled up a large chunk of carpet and coughed as the dust flew. “If she knows I’m going back to Atlanta at the end of the week, she probably thinks I’ll take whatever I want from her only son and leave him to sing the blues. She isn’t going to like me all that much.” She went to work with the knife again.

  He talked over the noise of ripping carpet. “I’ll let her know I’m fine with you leaving. We’ve had plenty of examples around here of women who thought they’d be happy in Jackson Hole and discovered too late that they hated it.”

  “So my story is that I’m not a country girl. I guess that works.”

  “It should. Like I said, she’s my mom, so she doesn’t want me to get hurt. She’s also more protective since the divorce. I think if she believed she wouldn’t get caught, she’d put out a contract on Lindsay.”

  “Nash!” She sat down on the carpet and swiveled to face the side of the room where he was working. “You do realize you’re scaring me to death, right? You’re painting a picture of a woman who will feed me to the fishes if she thinks I’m going to hurt you in any way.”

  “Nah, she’s not that scary. Besides, she doesn’t want to go to jail.”

  “Now you’re messing with me.”

  “A little.” He glanced over his shoulder. “She’s just your average mom. Most of them are like that when it comes to their kids.”

  “Mine wasn’t.” After she’d said it, she wished she hadn’t. Her mom had been the more cheerful of her parents, but she’d possessed zero backbone when it had come to protecting Bethany from anything, whether it was mean kids at school or her father’s constant criticism. But she didn’t want to be the object of Nash’s pity for that. “Which was fine, by the way,” she said. “It only made me stronger.”

  He put down his knife, got up and came over to her. “I can see that.” He sat cross-legged in front of her on the carpet. “A case could be made that if my mom hadn’t been so protective, I would have been strong enough to tell Lindsay to go to hell much sooner. But you’re the psychologist. You tell me.”

  She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I think it’s always great when a parent stands up for a kid, because then you know that you’re worth fighting for.”


  He nodded. “I did feel that way when my mom stood up for me. I still do.”

  She envied him, plain and simple. He’d had the childhood she’d wanted. “Nash, I hope you don’t blame yourself for marrying Lindsay. You were young and believed love would solve everything.”

  He met her gaze. “Yeah, I did. Now I know different.”

  “So it was a lesson learned. It doesn’t have to be anybody’s fault. You’re a great guy, and I hope you find the woman you deserve next time around. She’ll be very lucky.” For some ridiculous reason her throat tightened as she said that.

  “You’re great, too.” He reached over and closed his hand over hers in a gesture that was all about comfort, not sex. “Some guy will be lucky to have you.”

  She sniffed. “Thank you.”

  “I won’t let my mom be mean to you.” He squeezed her hand. “I’ll stick up for you, Bethany. I promise.”

  “There you go with the promises. You’d better cut that out or you’re gonna make me cry.” She swiped at her eyes with the back of her free hand. Too late she discovered it was covered in grit, which was now in her eyes. They stung like crazy as she blinked, trying to clear them. “Damn. That was a dumb move.”

  “Come on into the kitchen.” He pulled her to her feet and kept hold of her hand. “A wet towel will get that junk out of your eyes.” He laughed as he led her through the dining room. “Some help I am, huh? I come over to make you feel better and now you’re blinded by carpet grit.”

  “I’m the moron who rubbed it into my eyes.” And she wasn’t sorry, because being taken care of by Nash was a lovely feeling. Standing patiently at the kitchen sink, her face lifted, she opened and closed her eyes on command as he used the corner of a damp towel to flick tiny pieces of dirt out of her eyes.

  “There. How does that feel?”

  She blinked several times. “Much better. Thank you.”

  “Can’t have my carpet-removing partner out of action.” He leaned down and kissed her gently. Then he lifted his head, and desire flickered in his eyes. “That felt way too good, sweetheart. We need to get back in the living room and move to our respective corners immediately.”

  “Yes, sir. Can I take a rain check on whatever it is you’re thinking right now?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you may. And I’ll give you a hint. It involves ice cream.”

  “Mmm. And lots of licking?”

  “Oh, yeah. Smearing and licking. Licking and smearing.”

  Lust rocketed through her. “In that case, we should transfer it from the freezer to the refrigerator. That freezer keeps things hard as a rock.”

  He groaned. “Which pretty much describes me right now. You go ahead into the living room and start ripping out carpet. I desperately want to grab you, and I’m less likely to grab a woman who has a knife in her hand.”

  “Okay.” Smiling, she turned and walked toward the kitchen door. “Don’t forget to take the ice cream out.”

  “I won’t. But be warned. Once I come back in there, don’t mess with me, because I’ll be a lean, mean, carpet-ripping machine.”

  She glanced back at him. “Will that include taking off your shirt and getting all manly and sweaty?”

  “Would you like that?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  He grinned at her. “Then prepare yourself for the Nash Bledsoe Show.”

  She ran a tongue over her lips and gave him her best sultry gaze. “Bring it on, big boy.”

  His laughter followed her all the way into the living room. God, but he was a hoot to have around. She was going to miss him like crazy.

  12

  MOTIVATED BY AN IMAGE of Bethany covered in fudge ripple, Nash made good on his boast. He tore up two-thirds of the carpet in the living room and carted it out to the bed of his truck. Bringing his crowbar back inside, he pried up all the tacking strips around the perimeter of the room and took those out to his truck, too.

  He’d make a run to the dump tomorrow before the dinner. Mostly he tried not to think about the dinner. With the living room well on its way to being de-carpeted, he left Bethany to finish up while he tackled the master bedroom. It had a god-awful overhead fixture, too, which was actually fortunate because it let him see what he was doing.

  Lamps. He’d forgotten about lamps for in here. But he had a bed coming, at least. Jack had let him use the computer in his office this afternoon to go online and see what Jackson furniture stores had to offer.

  Jack had seemed to enjoy the search as much as Nash had. They’d found a beauty of a bed—a massive four-poster of dark wood that looked simple yet elegant. Because Nash needed everything—mattress, foundation, mattress pad, pillows, linens and a comforter, the store had given him a discount. The purchase still put a huge dent in his credit card, but he didn’t care.

  The bed was the first piece of furniture he’d bought since...well, for a long time. Lindsay had found sneaky yet devastating ways to make him aware that the pricey furniture filling their home in Sacramento had been thanks to her money. Or more accurately, her parents’ money.

  He’d told himself not to let that bug him, but it had. This bed represented a new direction in his life, and he’d decided in advance not to buy the cheapest thing he could find that would serve the purpose. Besides, he planned to make love to Bethany on it.

  That wasn’t the reason for choosing such a great bed, of course. She’d only be around a few more nights, so he’d be a fool to buy something that he thought she’d like. Even so, he did think she would like it, and he could hardly wait for them to try it out.

  He’d arranged delivery for first thing in the morning and he’d meant to tell her that earlier. But the dinner discussion had made him forget. Having the bed come tomorrow would be good timing, though. After they’d made it successfully through that dinner, they could celebrate on his new king-size bed.

  Pausing, he called out to her. “I ordered a bed today.”

  The ripping noise stopped in the living room. “You did? That’s great.”

  “I scheduled delivery for tomorrow at ten. Will that work for you?”

  “Sure.” The ripping noise started up again. Then it stopped. “What’s it like?”

  He smiled, happy that she cared. Continuing to work, he shouted over the racket because he was getting impatient for a serving of Bethany à la mode. “Oh, you know. Six feet square. Firm, but bouncy.”

  “Very funny.” She kept working, too. “Just a foundation and mattress, then? No frame?”

  “Who needs that? I can just throw it on the floor.”

  She appeared in the doorway. She was covered from head to foot in carpet dust. Her hair looked more brown than black, and smudges of dirt dappled her face, arms and legs.

  She was the most beautiful mess he’d ever seen. He could make love to her right this minute, dirt and all, except he doubted that she’d let him near her. He was a disaster, too.

  He’d taken off his shirt as promised and hung it on the back of a dining room chair to put on later. Consequently his torso was caked with dirt and sweat. He had carpet dust in his hair and it coated his jeans and boots as if he’d rolled in brown sugar. He figured the jeans and boots could be dusted off later, too.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re going to put your foundation and mattress on the floor,” she said.

  “Why not? That works. Some sheets, a few pillows, a blanket, and I’m good to go.”

  “No, you’re not! That’s tacky. At least buy one of those metal frames on wheels. They’re not expensive, and it’ll keep your foundation from getting all ratty because it’s on the floor instead of...” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You bought a bed frame, didn’t you?”

  He cracked up. “Of course I did. I’m not some teenager who’s furnishing his first pad. I want a real bed, someth
ing substantial.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Something that will stand up to whatever I throw at it.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “I know, and you’re so much fun to tease.”

  “So what did you get?”

  “You’ll find out tomorrow.”

  “Nash!”

  “Okay, okay. It’s a four-poster, and the posts are dark wood and kind of plain, but they have some shape to them. They’re thick, but graceful. You’ll see.”

  “So you went into Jackson?”

  “Nope. I used Jack’s computer and found one online. He and I looked them over together. He approved of my choice, and considering that Jack’s a connoisseur of fine beds, his stamp of approval means something.”

  “I’m eager to see it.” Then she frowned. “But we have a problem.”

  “What problem? The delivery includes setup. I ordered sheets, and if you want to put those on, that would be great. It’ll be all set up when we get back tomorrow night. We’ll have room to spread out.”

  “But the floor in here won’t be ready. I was thinking I’d rent a floor polisher tomorrow, but even if I made it back with the polisher before ten, I wouldn’t have time to finish before the bed arrives.”

  “I see the problem. I was so eager to get it delivered that I forgot about the floor.” He gazed at her as he considered the alternatives. “Okay, have them set it up in the living room for now. And don’t worry about polishing the floor. That should be my job.”

  She shook her head. “I want to. I’m dying to see how it looks, so I don’t think it’s a hardship. But if they set it up, we’ll just have to take it down to move it. Why not have them leave it boxed up? I’ll finish the floor tomorrow, and you and I can put the bed together tomorrow night.”

  “That makes sense, I guess.” He shook his head sadly. “Too bad we have that dinner. I figured after it was over, we’d be ready to bounce around on that bed and let off steam. Instead we’ll have to construct it first.”

  “Think of it as foreplay.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t know how easy it’ll be to assemble a bed when my johnson is sticking out like a damned flagpole.”